#so ready to be done with this fic cover so I can start posting stuff again

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Over the past day or so BC has written...

Wordcount: ~1000? (Not an exact wordcount cuz I'm not counting other stuff like journal entries.)

What I wrote: More of my TF2 fic.

Today BC drew...

Some work on a commission, a little bit of work on an illustration for my TF2 fic, and the flat colors for my Psychonauts fic cover!

Something to show:

[ID: Part of a WIP of my fic cover. Shows a closeup of Oleander's face as he frowns and looks to his right (his false eye is slightly unfocused). The flat colors are done. /end ID]

[callsigns-haze]

A blow for an answer

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!classmate!reader

summary: people see the two of you as the goody two shoes but truly there's only one real way you study.

warnings: smut, mention of bombings, blowjobs, unhinged coryo, work sex, dominance, short fic

A/n: This is my first hunger games post so I hope y'all enjoy!

It was a wednesday morning. It was your day when classes start an hour later than usual, allowing you to have a light sleep in before starting a whole day of hard study. Your room was only illuminated by the thin, bright beam of light that peaks through a gap in your curtains. It didn't quite disturb you till the light hit your face, stirring you to awake, quite so lightly.

You decide to turn in your bed to face the other way, pulling the covers further up so that the light didn't disturb you but the young seven year old did it instead. "Wake up! Coryo is about to be here!" Ellie's voice broke the silence as you lift your head to look at the alarm clock next to you. You slept in.

Nobody in the world would have ever experienced you jumping out of bed so quickly, running to your chair to get your ironed uniform to run to the bathroom. "Ells, why didn't you wake me sooner!?" You squeal running into your bathroom. "I tried to! It's not my fault you hibernate!"

You close the door shut and the first thing you do is run to the sink and open the cold tap. You let some water run before you splash a gracious amount onto you face to awoken you.

You had to get ready as soon as possible, Coriolanus will arrive any minute now and you've only risen from bed. Coryo, he was your classmate and assignments partner. The two of you always study together, it's what you do best. A lot of classmates tease that even though your head barely makes it out of books it's not like your father can't buy your way into further studies.

You didn't care about what they thought, now or never, their opinion doesn't matter, especially as you swash your mouth empty of toothpaste and begin to quickly brush your hair before grabbing some jell, water and hairspray. The quickest hairstyle you can maintain is your signature slick bun with a fancy hair tie at the base of the bun.

You've never dragged your hair back so quickly and aggressively, you needed to get it done now. The uniform was easy to put on but you wanted an easy make-up, just plain powder and mascara. You'll still look daring but quite plain for a rich kid.

You take out your powder and apply it onto one of your brushes. Your mom bought you this powder box years back, each time saying that she can replace it but you didn't want that you only got it refilled, it reminded you of times she was around more and let you dig in her stuff to play.

No more time to have sad flash backs. You throw off your nightgown, allowing it to pool around your feet as you slip on some red tights and your blue button up shirt. You put on the skirt, which has been made shorter for women during the years and throw on your blazer. Just on time.

------

Coriolanus was a man who was always punctual. Never missed a day of school in ten years or has never shown up late to any class. You admired that in him, he had potential, like your father says, 'his father was a man who loved his country, his son is much like him', and that was true.

Coryo knocks on the big wooden doors of your family home just to hear some squealing and screaming between the siblings. Like always your little sister Elizabeth runs to the door with hesitation, and peaks through the corner glass to see who has arrived. She smiles when she sees Coriolanus and screams upstairs, "Y/n, he's here! He's here!"

She does a little jump up and down as she twist the key that is at the other side of the door unlocking the door. She runs to him as he leans down locking her in a short hug as the little girl whispers to him ,"She slept in."

He let out a slight chuckle with that. The little girl throwing her older sister right under the bus at every chance she gets. He smiles at her as she talks about her playdate she had with a friend yesterday and how they have a rose garden, like the one his Grandma'am talks about but is quickly interrupted by you standing on the bottom step calling out.

"Ellie, Chase is in the kitchen waiting for you." She rolls her eyes and you give her a darn stare, the one that tells her to get in the move now and you close the door as you exit it and sigh. Coryo let's out another chuckle with that and smirks, "You slept in again, didn't you?" You groan, it's like he knows every time. Are you really that predictable? He laughs at that as he takes some of the books your holding and carrying them under his arm.

"I wouldn't have, if Highbottom was so stuck up and gave us a ten page essay to do in one night!" You moan as you never liked your dean. He was rude, alcoholic and possibly even a drug addict. In all those cases it proves that he should not have the right to teach young adults.

"Hey, I've seen you write essays and each time you get top notch marks. He can try to bring you down but he never will," Coriolanus confronts you as the two of you weave through the crowds trying to get to the university as fast as possible.

"And anyways, if you ever need some motivation to write an essay, you know where to find me," his stupid teasing, especially in public, makes your whole face go red and you shove him slightly but instead of managing to get him away he wraps his arm around you. "Aw, come on Y/n, you can't fight it."

"Oh, you're about to find out what I can or can't fight." You break off running leaving him miles behind. You look behind you to see Coryo throw his hands up in the air as you take off.

------

"Here's our golden girl," Arachne drags those words like nails on a chalkboard. She is one of those girls who run off daddy's money because between both of those ears is suppose to be a brain but no. Just emptiness. "Leave her alone Arachne, I bet once we all hear her essay our jaws will drop." Festus's comment made you let out a small smile, spoiled kids always tried to be bitchy and the best but there's nice words around sometimes.

"So where's your golden boy, I hope he's not with Plinth," Felix roles his eyes. Such an unmannered daddy's boy, your waiting for his father's campaign to be over to see what he's got to say then. He'll become a basic like the two of you.

"Don't be rude Felix, at least he has more manners then a pig like you," you snap at him being fed up of how he quickly insults Sejanus for his family and wealth but none of you are any better than that, it's just that he comes from district.

Festus let out an airy laugh as Clemensia bit her lip to prevent her laughter. You always knock Felix off his high horse and he always reminds you off the position his father holds so you come back at him with the same. You would've continued your little word scrap but the bell rang at that.

"Don't make me finish this off later, zip it."

------

"Who knows what sparked the painful action in the Capitols heart during the dark days?" Your dean asks the class. None of them try to make eye contact with him. Trying to avoid getting picked but here you where raising your hand to answer the question. "Yes Ms. Trevino."

"During the dark days the rebels bombed a shelter where the capitals wife's and kids of politics or generals where hiding. It caused deaths of twenty seven kids and nine wifes."

He nods at you, quite impressed of your knowledge and smiles. "Right, word to word, Ms. Trevino." He was impressed, no one writes about that in any book, the information barely exists anymore yet a girl in his class knew the question to the question almost immediately.

"Very well, what districts or rebels caused the bombing?" That question was meant for you only and know the whole classes eye lay upon you, waiting curiously for the answer.

"They were travellers. Didn't belong to a certain district, always on the move. They were found almost immediately and hung for their doing."

Another correct answer that he did not expect you to be able to get. You look up to see Coriolanus smiling with a proud look at you. He didn't know this himself but for you to be able to know that is quite incredible.

"If you don't mind me asking, Ms. Trevino. How do you have this information?" You hated talking about it, it was quite forbidden at your house. No word was mentioned, no tears were shed anymore, just pure acceptance.

"I lost a family member at that bombing, sir." The looks of pity filled the classroom as you said that. Coryo knew that you mentioned before that you had another older brother but all he heard was that he passed away tragically and here that theory was quite confirmed.

With you saying that, Highbottom went back to teaching from the book. It was a quite slow class leading from then on since all this information was way better covered in the essay you wrote from better sources, this was like a whole baby type of revision.

As the class went on your dean questioned you all on the material, which you knew top notch but the thing he announced after that was truly unfair. "Since you all seem so 'interested' in this sector, tomorrow I shall exam you on it. Ms. Trevino, you will be free from the exam since you've covered all of this in the work you handed me. Now, your all dismissed."

------

Your parents always liked Coriolanus, they believed that even though you get highest marks that he has a great impact on it and they're not wrong. The two of you work rather marvellously in a studying pair.

He sits at your desk since tonight you'll be studying here. You didn't have homework or study due to your dean letting you off but you could clearly see that Coryo was overly stressing at this point and none of the information was going into his head.

"Coyro," you murmur, sitting down upon his lap, pestering his neck with kisses and light bites as he continues reading the papers in front of him. "Hmm?" He hums as he is slowly losing concentration as you rock your hips back and forth over his clothed shaft that is tucked away in his uniform pants.

He isn't wearing the usual red skirt that comes with it, meaning you have less to remove before you start your magic, "let me relax you."

You sink down onto your knees and Coryo begins to feel the kisses that you give to his groin area. You sit up, perched, with your knees hitting the carpeted bedroom floor, in between his legs. You slip down the pants as they reach his ankles and to remove them fully he kicks them onto the floor, bringing his underwear with him.

He's fully exposed besides the blue school shirt that he still wears. You wiggle your body up straight and your face is in front of his sprung, half hard cock. You lean the side of your cheek in the dip of his hip and grab a hold of the hardening cock. You gently begging to tug at him watching his foreskin go up and down as it comes over his shaft. You stare at how he looks so big with your small hand.

As you continue the pre blowjob, Coryo tries to focus on his study notes, but each delicate touch of yours makes him feel like on cloud nine and it's only your little hand. You lean your head more in his hip dip to kiss his shaft from the bottom base to the very top of his shaft. You know this is making Coriolanus sensitive from the feeling of your lips on him creates an arousal.

"So, kiss kiss tell me what was the war?" The most simple question but you kissing every square inch of his cock made it hard to think straight. "It was…fuck…a rebolt against the capital…holy shit."

With the right answer you bend down to take his whole cock head in your mouth and begin giving it soft sucks, you weren't going to go very hard at the beginning. The hiss that left his mouth showed that he was beginning to enjoy this .

You hollow out your mouth and sink a tiny bit more, this wasn't a cheap fuck, it was basically a quiz, but with a lot more spice.

One of your hand is wrapped around his base as you lower your mouth in the top. You keep your movements steady after you ask the next question. Just the way he likes a blowjob. You eyes keep closed and enjoy the moment.

Around four questions later you begin to feel Coriolanus's breathing to pick up as you watch his chest move up and down more rapidly. From now, he has completely lost the ability to speak straight. He was feeling to good to concentrate and technically you've asked him on pretty much everything. The only thing that was in his mind was your warm little mouth around his big thick cock.

He accidentally jerks his hips up leading you to let out delicate gags as he hits the back of your throat, usually he's able to control himself unless he's fucking your mouth.

"God, Y/N." His moans are deep. Hearing him moan so loudly makes you get wet and turned in. You know that once your done with him, he'll give back a favour in return.

You continue bobbing your head up and down for a bit longer until you feel something on your tongue at his very tip, which he was leaking precum. He feels so good he feels his muscles in his stomach contract and thighs shake. He wanted to give you a warning before loading off in your mouth. "Y/N, fucking hell! I'm going to cum!"

As he throws his head back you begin to go faster. You suck hard since you don't intend to pick up the speed to much but you know it'll drive Coryo over the edge, it always does.

He ejaculates his hot cum in your mouth as you continue sucking his tio and rest your hand at the base of his shaft. His salty liquid happily makes it down your throat once you swallow.

Coyro's careless moans escape, he doesn't care about how load he's being. You make him feels so good and the two of you are alone in your house. He grabs the sides of the chair to build up pressures as he believes his orgasm moments. You stop sucking and tugging to not overstimulate him and lift your head off his limp shaft.

You sit up on your bent knees, breathing heavy from your lack of breath while giving the blowjob, and Coryo lays there almost lifeless, still trying to float back to earth. Then you crawl up his body and lay flat on his heaving chest, wrapping your arms under his back.

"I know you don't need to study but I think you deserve a recap of the woman's body autonomy."

Hunger games taglist:

@rosiahills22

@shanimallina87

@callsign-magnolia

@hardballoonlove

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@buckysteveloki-me

@hookslove1592

@kmc1989

@callsign-dexter

[chishiyaisasnack]

Shower time

Here’s a fic that I’ve been working on for a good while now and I’m finally content with posting it. It’s sfw even though it’s a shower scene. Mostly fluff (?) and a tiiiiiny but of angst.

Disclaimer! This story is based in the Borderlands and it mentions blood, wounds and trauma from it. It’s not about how they got injured, but more so very mildly describing that they are injured. I consider it sfw but it does contain nudity since they’re taking a shower, but I’m not describing bodyparts or anything. Also, small references to sex just for humor, but there is no smut whatsoever.

Oh, and the reader doesn’t know that Chishiya is a doctor.

I’ve written and am posting on mobile so I’m sorry for any formatting issues.

”I’m going to take a shower.”

With strong steps - actually more like a wobble - you walked into your room at The Beach, Chishiya following close behind you, watching your every movement just in case you would trip over your own feet, like you already had done about 30 times since you left the game area. It had been a rough one and it had left you wounded, exhausted and a bit lethargic. Not to mention the strain it had taken on your mental state, like the games always did, but you had turned off your feelings for now and had only one goal in mind: a long, warm shower to wash off all the remnants of the game.

”No you aren’t, it can wait until tomorrow.” Chishiya sounded like he always did, bored and condescending, but you knew that there was some worry in there somewhere. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to follow you all the way back to your room, offering to catch you when you’d eventually fall.

”I feel gross. I’m covered in … stuff.” Blood. You were covered in blood. You raised your arms to make your point clearer, in case he missed what an absolute mess you were right now.

”Fine. Come on then.” Chishiya sighed, walked around you, and went towards the bathroom while you stood confused, watching him open the door and look back at you before stepping inside.

”Wait, what?” you asked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Why was he joining you?

With slow steps you followed him, wondering if he got the wrong idea. He was gorgeous, but sex was the last thing on your mind, especially shower sex. Didn’t he say that you were in no condition to even take a shower to begin with? You stopped in the doorway and waited for a response.

”You most likely have a concussion, you’re wounded and you’re exhausted. You’re going to collapse by yourself.” He turned on the shower and let the stream of water fall, waiting for it to turn hot.

”Okay, okay, doctor.” The smirk you got back confused you even more. Did he have a thing for being called ’doctor’? It wouldn’t suprise you, he was a mystery. But even him would surely have preferrences. Wait, why were you thinking about sex again?

You shook your head as you walked inside the bathroom, limping past Chishiya as he was making his way out again. Or so you thought. In the corner of your eye you saw him stretch, but it wasn’t until you turned around that you saw what he really was doing.

”Uhh, why are you taking your clothes off?” Your eyes widened as his hoodie hit the floor. He had no shame, appearantly getting naked with you without warning was completely normal in his world.

”I’m getting ready to help you when you realise that I was right. Don’t worry, I won’t join you until you ask me to. Which will be soon, so I’m preparing for that.”

You didn’t know if you should feel thankful or offended by what he said.

Chishiya however, smirked again, cocking an eyebrow at your dumbfounded look. He was enjoying this. While still looking at you he started to pull down his shorts. Your eyes were fixed on the pile of clothes he had created on the floor, which thankfully wasn’t added with more pieces since he decided to keep at least his boxers on. The daring look he had on his face when you turned your eyes back up was annoying. Did he like that you were looking at him? Not that you were looking at him like that anyway. You just wanted to take a shower. Or so you told yourself.

With his shirt and pants off he sat down on the toilet seat, turning around so that he had his back against you and the glass wall of the shower.

”Go ahead” he said, a hint of amusement hiding in his voice. ”I won’t look.”

”You better not” you huffed back at him, watching him carefully while you started to remove your own clothes, ripped apart and stained with blood. Instead of putting them in a pile you threw them straight into the trashcan. Once removed, you looked into the mirror over the sink and you almost gasped at how wounded you actually were. Cuts and bruises covered your arms, legs and back. Patches of your skin were stained red, even your face still had traces of blood left on it. You looked terrible.

Sighing, you stopped studiyng yourself and looked over your shoulder. Chishiya was still sitting with his back against you, shoulders rising and falling slow with every breath, the muscles of his back tensing when he moved. He looked soft. You wondered what he would look like wet.

No! This was not the right time to daydream about Chishiya and his pretty back, his blonde hair that fell in waves over his shoulders, those shoulders that probably would feel great to hold on to while your lips were… Oh, for fucks sake, just get in the shower y/n.

After disrupting yourself from your thoughts you made your way into the shower, closing your eyes as the water started cascading down your body. The glass wall seperating the shower and the rest of the room was conveniently half covered with frosted glass so that it covered most of your body, from your shoulders down to your knees, making you a bit less embarrassed over being naked in the same room as him. Being naked in front of someone when it wasn’t sexual wasn’t your idea of calming, and even though he had no shame, you still had. This was too intimate, too casual. But if it was what it took to take a shower then you’d do it. Even though you didn’t like to admit it you did trust Chishiya to treat you with decency and respect. He might be considered one of the people you shouldn’t trust in the borderlands, a bad person perhaps, but not bad enough to overstep someones boundaries like this.

”Let me know when you need me.” Chishiyas voice rang somewhere in the distance. Not even a ’if you need me’. He was too confident and it just made you even more stubborn. You were definitely able to take a shower by yourself, you were damned to not let him win this one, you told yourself while reaching for the soap. With unsteady hands (no, they absolutely weren’t unsteady because you were tired) you started to scrub the dirt off yourself, one part at a time. You hissed whenever you discovered a new wound you weren’t aware of and eventually the pain from it made you a bit dizzy. No, you could do this.

You clenched your jaw as you continued, slowly moving from head to toe, covering yourself with suds. Finally, everything you could see and feel was gone, so you let the stream of water fall over you once again, closing your eyes, enjoying the warmth that it gave. You felt your muscles relax, your breathing slowing down, your eyelids getting heavier…

”Chishiya…” you mumbled weakly, mad that he was right, again.

”I’m here.” A voice right behind you made you jump. You turned around and swung your fist towards him, ready to punch him out of pure panic, but he caught it before it landed on him. The borderlands had really done a number on you, you were constantly prepared for survival and appearantly even Chishiya was a victim of your anxiety. ”Calm down, it’s just me.”

”How long have you been standing there?!” You wobbled to the side as you tried to fight your bodys urge to fall onto the ground from the sudden movements. Chishiya steadied you by holding your upper arms, and helped you turn back around so that your back was facing him again.

”You moved slower and slower so I was ready when you called for me. I haven’t been standing here ogling.”

”So you have been watching me?” You didn’t even think about the fact that you probably flashed him completely just now. Well, if he saw something he didn’t care about it, which was comforting in this situation.

”Of course. I couldn’t see anything other than your head anyway. It wasn’t quite the show you think it was.” Chishiyas voice was dripping with amusement.

Once again, you didn’t know if you should be thankful or offended.

”Give me the schampoo bottle.” Chishiya asked, or rather commanded, reaching his arm out next to you so you could hand him the bottle. Once he got it you could hear him shake it before opening it and pouring out some of the liquid in his hand, followed by a low thump as he put it on the floor behind you.

Slender fingers moved over your hair, softly massaging it with his fingertips, giving you full body shivers from the way his fingers drew circles between the strands. It felt nice. Safe. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes again and just relish in the warmth radiating from his hands. He was so careful with how he touched you, slow and gentle while he worked his way through all of your hair.

A part of you wished that he would step closer so that you could feel the warmth from his body wrap around you, so that you could lean back and relax in his arms, just enjoying how your body would feel so at ease while being comforted, but you had no idea how to ask him for that without it sounding sexual.

”Shower head, please.”

You did as he asked and handed him the shower head, turning up the water pressure while doing so to make it easier for him to rinse.

”Close your eyes and bend your head backwards. Tell me if you feel dizzy.” Chishiya didn’t sound so stern this time. His words were soft and comforting, asking you to trust him. So you did.

He rinsed your hair in silence. One hand holding the shower head while the other one kept massaging your scalp, making sure to rinse out the schampoo properly. Even though you desperately tried to relax and just enjoy the feeling of being taken care of, you couldn’t stop your emotions from seeping back into your mind. Pictures of the game were flashing before your eyes. People screaming. Fighting. Lasers going off.

”Chishiya…” you whispered, no longer able to stop thinking about what had happend earlier.

”Mhmm..?”

”There was a child there tonight.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel the movements in his hands stiffen as he continued to rinse your scalp free from schampoo.

”I didn’t know that there were children here” you continued, trying to get the thoughts out of your head so you wouldn’t be tormented by them during the night. ”I thought maybe we were sent here to repent or something like that, that we were getting what we deserve. But why would a child deserve this? Even if we are all randomly sent here, without any reason behind why it’s us in particular, why would they choose a child?”

”…I don’t know.” He sounded emtpy when he answered, not that you were expecting his words to be comforting. They rarely were. There was a long pause before he spoke again. ”Did the child make it?”

”Yeah…” A shiver ran trough your body when Chishiya stopped rinsing your hair, already missing the heat from the water. Another thump came from the floor when he put the shower head down. ”Some of us worked together and protected him as much as we could.”

”Do you have conditioner?” he interrupted, sticking his hand out next to you so that you could hand it to him. You placed the bottle in his hand and watched him retrieve it. A click of the bottle cap was followed by another thump when he put it down on the ground. You wondered how many times he must’ve stared at your ass by now.

”Anyway,” you continued, shaking the image of him smirking at your butt away. ”That’s why I look like this. I took the hits for him.”

”That sounds like you.”

You hummed at his words. It was reassuring that you were considered to be a nice person, even in this hellscape.

Gentle fingers threaded through your hair again and you leaned into the touch. It went by faster this time since he didn’t need to scrub, although you wished he would keep doing this for hours. Every time he let go of you - this time to pick up the shower head again - the ache in your body took over, making you tremble ever so slightly even though the steam from the hot water was surrounding you. You were relieved when you felt the water against your back, contently closing your eyes and bending your head back into Chishiyas palm.

”I envy you sometimes.” Chishiya mumbled, so quiet that the sound of the water almost drowned it out.

”You do?”

”I wouldn’t have helped someone else if it meant that I would have to work for it, let alone get hurt from it.” Chishiya paused briefly, like he was choosing his words carefully. ”Especially not a stranger. You didn’t think twice about doing so.”

”I don’t believe that.” You cut him off before he got the chance to put himself down even more. ”You’re better than you think, Chishiya. Just look at what you’re doing for me right now.”

”I’m washing your hair, I’m not saving you from dying.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

”You don’t have to save me from death to help me. This is helping me. Besides, from the sound of your attempts to stop me from showering, I could die in here if you didn’t help me.”

”Maybe I just wanted to see you naked” Chishiya joked with such a monotone voice that anyone else would think he was serious, but you knew better. Well, if he was serious he had gotten his wish - paired with a fist coming at his face.

”Right” you snorted, too tired to laugh. A blush still crept over your cheeks, imagining his eyes on you in that way. ”Keep telling yourself that if that makes you feel better.”

”There” Chishiya ignored your answer and handed you the shower head. Cold air rushed to your skin as the water left it, leaving you almost begging for him to continue. Would it be so bad if you did?

”You can turn off the water now. I’ll get you some towels. Stay there.”

With a pout you put the shower head back into it’s place and turned off the water. Behind you, you could hear how Chishiya was gathering towels from a drawer, his footsteps making their way back over the tiled floor that would be cold and uninviting for your own feet in a second.

”Lift your arms a little.” You did as he asked and lift your arms halfway up, stopping waist high, only to see Chishiyas arms poking out from under them, holding up a towel that you thankfully grabbed a hold on and quickly wrapped around yourself to try to regain some of the warmth that the shower had given you.

”You’re safe to turn around now.”

”Thank you” you quitly replied as you gently spun around, just to be met by a still undressed Chishiya with his own towel hanging around his neck and a soft expression on his face. If you didn’t know better you would think that he was worried about you.

A smaller towel was in one of his hands - which soon landed on your head, covering your face at the same time. Your sour expression that was revealed as you peeled it off made him grin.

”Do you want help to dry it?” He asked, eyes shiny from amusement, and watched as you stubbornly started to squeeze the ends of your hair, too tired to lift your arms up and dry it completely.

”No, I’ll just put the towel over the pillow when I sleep. It’s fine” you replied, following his example and put your own towel over your shoulders. The chill in the air was starting to really get to you, and you decided that you couldn’t get to the bed fast enough. Just thinking about laying down, surrounded by warm covers, maybe even a pair of socks on your feet at first, burying your head on the pillow…

”The wounds on your back looked fine but I still need to cover some of them with bandaids. I need to examine your front too. Let me know when you’ve covered up so that I can check your arms, legs and stomach.”

Ugh, why did he have to interupt your dream about your bed with another naked request? You just wanted to sleep.

”I’m sure I’ll be fine Chishiya” you groaned back at him, slowly (and unsteadily) making your way past him and towards the bed. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, just a few more steps and you’d reach the doorhandle, that doorhandle that would open the gate and lead you straight towards the nice, warm, fluffy….

You groaned even louder when you felt a hand grip your arm, stopping your weak attempt to get out of the bathroom and keeping you still while Chishiya made his way around you so that he was facing you again. That calm face was back and you didn’t like it.

”Please, Chishiya, just let me sleep” you pleaded but to no avail.

”Come here.” You had no choice but to move after him, not being strong enough to even attempt to break loose from his grip on your arm, that was keeping you somewhat steady as you plopped one foot in front of the other until you reached the end of the bathroom. Then - lo and behold - Chishiya opened the door and led you out into the hotel room, making your way straight towards the bed. Right as he reached the foot of the bed he stopped and slowly turned the two of you around in a circle so that your back was now facing the bed, and then pushed you back so that you fell down on the soft duvet cover with a yelp. It felt like heaven to finally lay down, like a cloud was enveloping you and taking you with it to the land of dreams.

”Where are your underwear?” Chishiya once again interrupted your inner monolouge.

”Why? Wanna see them so badly even though you’ve already seen me naked?” You rolled your eyes and leaned your head to the side so that you could watch him dig around in a dresser until he grabbed the first, best pair of panties he could find and threw them at you.

”Put them on please, unless you want me to examine you naked. I’m fine with either way.”

You just huffed at him, secretly liking the playful look he was giving you. When he turned his back to you, you managed to shuffle around and get your panties on, just to let your legs fall back down onto the bed with a loud thump. God, you were exhausted.

”I’m done, doctor.” Once again, he reacted with a grin and you were now positive that he had some wierd doctor patient kink and that you were so going to make him confess that. A mission for another day.

Chishiya sat down next to your legs and reached over them to pick up a first aid kit you didn’t even know was laying next to you. Was he a wizard too?

You kept still, listening to the opening of packets, a liquid poured onto what you imagined was a cotton ball, and then your own hiss as he touched the first wound on your leg. It wasn’t the liquid that hurt, it was just the tender touch from the gauze he dabbed against your skin that hurt enough to make you wince. He must have started on a bad one.

”Try to keep still” he murmured gently, sounding like he was completely occupied with his task of tormenting you just a bit more before letting you sleep.

You stayed as still as you could, trying to concentrate on his hands and fingers working their way over your legs, dabbing it with the liquid, letting it dry, then putting a compress and some adhesive tape over it like a home made band aid. His touch was so gentle that it was barely there.

Your eyelids turned heavier with every touch of his fingertips and even though your wounds were stinging, his warm skin eased the pain afterwards and comforted you without knowing so. Before falling asleep you murmured a ”thank you.”

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of being enveloped in something warm, probably the cover that wasn’t underneath you and a soft whisper.

”You’re welcome.”

[thelovelylolly]

It Will Come Back

Summary: It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways... Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood, and violence, kinda hurt/comfort, reader is described as smaller/shorter than frank, let me know if i missed anything :) Word Count: ~1.9k Notes: first fic of 2024! first off, frank castle with a hozier song makes me go bonkers. second, my requests are open and my guidelines are in the pinned post so please send them in :)

You met Frank in a very unconventional way. You weren't able to sleep one night, your gut telling you something was going to happen, when he slumped against your window on the fire escape. You heard a thud and raced to your room, seeing a dark figure being lit only by the dim streetlights.

You considered the risk of letting him for a second, then crossed your room and opened the window. His body was limp, but he was awake as he fell back into your room. You tried your best to break his fall, but he was heavier than you anticipated. You both grunted as you pulled him all the way into your room and helped him into your nearby desk chair.

You gave him a once over as you closed your window, unsure if you were his saving grace or next victim. He was covered in blood, sweat, and bruises, so you guessed you were safe. He didn't seem as dangerous as he could be. You noticed his dark gaze and tensed body, even if he was injured. His nose stood out to you most, the one thing that made him seem familiar.

"Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me, or are you gonna help me?" He grumbled, groaning as he sat up more in his seat.

"Sorry," you replied softly. "What can I do?"

His gaze darted around your room, like he was trying to figure you out just from what you had in it. "You got a first-aid kit?"

You nodded and went to your bathroom, quickly returning with a first-aid kit in your hands. You turned the tall lamp next to your desk on before setting it down. Your turned back to him, getting a better look at him under the light. His dark hair matched his dark eyes and some of the dried blood on his face. He had some bruises already blooming on his face and a few cuts, nothing life threatening there.

You cleared your throat, stopping yourself from staring at him too long. You popped open the first-aid kit, hoping you had the things he needed. "Where are you hurt?"

"Got slashed pretty good on my left side," he answered, lifting his arm a bit to show you the cut in his clothes and skin.

You nodded and reached for the zipper on his black hoodie. "Can I take this off?"

"Mhm," he hummed.

You quickly unzipped it and pulled it off, careful not to irritate his cut or any other injuries he may have had. You dropped it onto the floor and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up just enough to see the gash.

"Can you hold your shirt up for me?" You asked quietly. His hand replaced yours, holding his shirt up while you grabbed some of the gauze from the kit to press onto the bleeding cut. You used one of your hands to press the gauze and the other to grab the stitch kit you had inside the kit.

"Can I ask why you have a the stuff for stitches at the ready?" He asked as you got the needle and thread ready.

You laughed dryly. "Can I ask why you showed up at my window with a giant gash in your side and probably other injuries you're not gonna mention?"

"Fair," he replied, a tired smirk on his face.

"You want anything to numb the pain, or are you good? You seem like you've done this before," you said, surprised how easily you fell into this banter with him.

"I'm good, just do it," he grumbled.

You moved your gauze away, taking a deep breath to calm your shaky hands before starting his stitches. You heard every sharp inhale and long exhale as he took deep breaths to get through each stitch. His hand holding up his shirt gripped the fabric tightly, his knuckles turning white. You went as fast as you could without hurting him any further.

It felt like an hour, but in a few minutes, you were done. You tied the thread up and cut it, quickly placing the needle on your desk and grabbing more gauze to hold against it. You pressed the gauze with one hand again and grabbed gauze wrap with your other.

"Can you sit up please?" You asked, glancing up at him. He glanced down at you and held your gaze for a second before looking away and wordlessly sitting up.

You quickly wrapped the gauze wrap around his midsection and finished up, ignoring the way your face heated up when his gaze met yours. You grabbed the bloody gauze from earlier off the floor and put it with the needle you used before standing up.

"Anything else?"

He shook his head as he dropped his shirt back down. You quickly cleaned up the kit and tossed the used needle and gauze into your trashcan. You picked up his hoodie and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," you replied with a soft smile. "You wanna crash on my couch? I don't think you should go anywhere far in your, uh, condition."

He nodded quietly. You helped him up and led him into your living room, letting him put some weight onto you as he walked. You lowered him onto the couch and he sat down with a sigh. You went into your small kitchen and got him a glass of water and some painkillers, setting it on the coffee table after walking back.

"Can I get your name?" You asked, sitting in the chair across from him.

He popped the pills into his mouth and downed them with the water. "Frank," he answered, setting his now half-empty glass down.

"Like...Frank Castle?"

Frank's gaze jumped to you, eyes a bit wide with surprise.

"That's why you look so familiar. I've seen you on the news and in the papers," you quickly add.

"Ah, thought you'd freak out on me and call the police," he replied, leaning back on your plush couch.

"I think...I don't agree with your, um, methods, but you're cleaning up the streets. Making it a bit safer for people like me to walk home at night, y'know?"

"Glad you see it that way..." He trailed off, waiting for you to give him your name. You did, and he echoed you, almost like testing it out.

"Well, I'm going to try to get some rest," you said as you stood up with a smile. "I think you deserve some. Goodnight, Frank."

"G'night."

------

Since then, you let Frank into your apartment late a night to stitch him up and let him sleep. It wasn't anything more than that. Sure, you two bantered or talked about random subjects, but it was mainly to distract each other from the blood or wound. You were just there to help him, and you two never crossed the unspoken boundary you both had. You silently agreed to be acquaintances, maybe friends.

Then Frank started to cross that.

He started to drop by earlier in the evening, no bruises or blood on him. He'd just show up at the window he always came in, and of course, you'd let him in. You were confused why he would show up this early and not hurt like usual, but you found it nice that he was there without the need to be sewn back up.

He'd come in for a bit, you'd give him a drink or offer him dinner, and you two would talk. You'd spend a long time talking, or sometimes just enjoying each other's company, until it got dark enough and he left to do his job. Sometimes, he'd come back in the early morning hours to get patched up. Other times, he wouldn't show up until the next day when he'd stop by to spend time with you.

Soon enough, you saw a slightly deeper version of him rather than the surface level one you met. He still had some things covered up, but he had revealed enough to cause you to start falling for him. You wanted to stop yourself so you wouldn't make things complicated, but you knew if he wanted to, he'd leave and never look back.

That's what scared you. Your feelings would be one sided and once he figured it out, he'd stop coming by just to hang out with you and eventually, stop coming by for you to patch him up. You didn't want him to leave any time soon, but you knew it could easily happen.

"Hey, you okay? You zoned out there," Frank asked, gently putting his hand on your shoulder to bring you out of your thoughts.

You looked over at him, who was sitting on the other side of the couch as you. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired."

"I can go if-"

"No, no, stay," you quickly say, cutting him off. "I, uh, I like your company."

You watched his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn a little pinker as he looked away from you. He ran a hand over his face, like he was trying to rub the blush from it. You looked away from him, playing with the hem of your shirt. You thought you had crossed a line and made him uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna get some water," you said quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the kitchen.

You quickly grabbed a glass and filled it up with water. As you drank it, you thought you'd hear Frank's heavy footsteps head to your bedroom and the window open. You thought you'd hear the sounds of Hell's Kitchen flood in through the open window as he left. Instead, you heard his footsteps approach you slowly.

You finished your drink and put your glass in the sink before turning around to face him. He wasn't very close, but in your small kitchen, it felt closer than it was.

"Why do you come here even when your not hurt and you don't need anything?" You asked, breaking the silence between you two.

Frank sighed. "'Cause you're...you. I don't know, I'm not good with words. But ever since you started to help me out, I...I wanna keep coming back to you. I think I fell in love with you or something because you keep pulling me back here."

You smiled softly at his confession. "I think I fell in love with you, too. I was just scared you were gonna leave if I said anything."

He smiled back, stepping closer and closer to you. A comfortable silence fell between you two. One of Frank's hands fell to your waist and the other tilted your face up to look at him. Your hands naturally wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Your eyes darted to his lips before meeting his eyes.

You caught his gaze dipping down before meeting yours again. You started to lean in and Frank met you halfway. When his lips met yours, the months of banter and drinks and dinners together made sense. He had quietly been telling you he cared about you, maybe even loved you, for so long.

You melted into the kiss and his touch, pulling him as close as you could. It was sweet and slow. You could tell from the way he held you and kissed you just how much he wanted this kiss, how much he wanted you.

When you pulled away, you both stayed close to each other, leaning your foreheads against each other. He brushed his nose against yours as you both smiled.

"I'm not gonna leave you, sweetheart. I will come back."

[stephdrawsjohnlock]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2024!

Looking for a scene drawn for your story? A piece to help inspire you to write a fic? A new icon? How about covers for your story with full print-ready Graphic Design service? Maybe a pinup, or some trading cards (up to 10)?? Maybe a gift for someone, or just your vision of a character(s) (up to 3 character sheets) for your AU?

Well, that’s just some of the stuff I’m willing to offer for this year’s @fandomtrumpshate​​ Charity Event! FTH is a WONDERFUL community project that supports amazing non-profits through donations for fanworks via  this wonderful annual event!

I am participating for my fifth year by offering 2 fanarts for y’all in either the BBC Sherlock or Good Omens fandoms, starting at 20$ for the non-profit of your choice!

Here are some past FTH pieces I’ve done, if you’re interested in seeing the scope of the work you would be getting from me:

2020:

GO - :FTH 2020 – Lagniappe for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

GO - :FTH 2020 BONUS – Réveillon for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

2021

SH - :This Year: (FTH #1 for @discordantwords​​)

SH - :Burlesque Johnlock: (FTH #2 for @ohlooktheresabee​)

2022

SH – :A Quiet Moment: (FTH #1 for @totallysilvergirl)

SH – :Against the Wall: (FTH #2 for @anarfea)

2023

SH – :Let Me Come to You: (FTH #1 for  ShakespearelovedLadyMacbeth)

SH – :Couch Cuddle: (FTH #2 for @discordantwords)

SH – :More Every Minute: (FTH #3 for @totallysilvergirl)

And of course, you can browse all my art to see my range:

@stephdrawsjohnlock​​

stephdrawsfanart on Instagram

@stephratte​​ (Primary Multifandom Art ​Blog)

stephratte on deviantART

I will draw any ship from any of the above fandoms. All my work is done as a hi-res 3000x3000 print-ready piece in Procreate. Traditional media (markers, India ink, and pencils) is also available if you prefer, done on illustration or marker paper at the paper’s size, with the option of acquiring the original if you choose. I will also do it at a requested size if you have a preferred format for something specific (like a book cover or a comic panel). Feel free to DM me if you have any questions.

The browsing begins on Feb. 26, and the bidding opens on March 1! I hope I once again get a chance to do a couple fantastic pieces for y’all!! I love doing this so much, so keep an eye out for my info post soon once it’s official!

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Gorgeous

kai parker x reader (both 18+!) (shy!virgin!kai)

summary: troubled by his own body, kai's afraid to go all the way with you. that is, until you confess you love him regardless of the way he looks, giving him just the confidence he's needed all along.

tags: friends to lovers, kissing, minor fingering, shy!kai, mentions of child abuse / physical abuse [I can't just write a normal fic, can I?], implied s3lf h4rm, emotional hurt / comfort, confessions, making out, blow jobs, virgin!kai, top / bottom switching, reader is a little freaky, nipple sucking, pet names, aftercare, cuddling

word count: 5.5k

a/n: sooooo... this has been sitting in my wips for over a year. for some reason, i just never posted it. but unfortunately, i have work tomorrow, so i'll be dead as a doornail that evening, and the work i wanted to post isn't done yet, so i'll post this in the meantime. that being said, i think i'm finally starting to get back in the swing of things. i'm still working on requests as well as other stuff, but i'm coming back slowly!

also, if this idea is totally unusual, that's probably why it sat in my drafts for a year. it's a year old fluffy smut with a strange premise. bare with me. 😅

The minute you get back from work, you collapse onto the nearest chair and groan.

“You okay there?”

Looking up, you see Jo and her boyfriend on the couch watching a movie. Oops.

“Sorry. Yeah. Long day. Where is everyone?”

“Our dads went to the flooding company people to try and get that situation covered, and our moms took the kids to the park.”

“My brother too?”

“Your brother, but not mine.”

“Cool,” you give the girl a thumbs up. “Hey Cody.”

Jo’s boyfriend looks over at you, “hey, Y/N.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Okay!”

You make your way up the stairs slowly, wondering where Kai is. Poking your head in his room, you see he’s not in there, but you don’t hear him anywhere else. Oh well. You’ll find him after your shower, because you really, really need that shower. 

In your room - also the Parker’s guest room - you grab a new set of clothes and your hairbrush, before going into the guest bathroom in the hallway. See, you and the Parkers are neighbors and have become close family friends. Though one night after a really bad storm, your basement flooded, as did several other houses nearby. This is a problem Mr. Parker could easily fix with magic, but considering the electric and flooding companies know your house was one of the ones affected, he can’t do anything without revealing his coven. Instead, your family temporarily moved in with his until the county could fix the issue.

It’s been two weeks, no progress. But you’re not complaining; you get to spend more time with Kai - your best friend who you’ve recently started dating in secret. 

As you’re busy undressing and getting the water ready, you don’t hear Kai come in from outside. The boy stands in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular.

“Is everyone still out?” He hesitantly asks Jo.

“Yeah. But Y/N came home.”

“Oh. Where is she?”

“Mhm, went upstairs.” Then she snaps her fingers, “oh wait! She said she’s taking a shower. So don’t bother her. Just go to your room and wait for her to come out. Don’t be weird.”

Kai scrunches his nose. As if he’d ever make you uncomfortable on purpose. “Okay, thanks.”

Quietly, he makes his way upstairs. When he hears the water running, he bites his lip. Don’t be weird, Jo had just said. But she doesn’t know how close you two actually are. Swallowing hard, he slowly turns the knob to the bathroom door, trying not to alert Jo to which door he’s opening. Inside, the hot water steams up the mirrors, making it hard to see, but he can vaguely point out your figure through the glass. 

“Y/N?”

You hear him and pop your head out of the door, “Kai! Hi. Come in,” you gesture for him to enter all the way.

He does, then shuts the door just as quietly. “I don’t mean to bug you, I just wanted to make sure you were here. Jo said you were, but…” he shrugs.

“You’re not bugging. Come on, join me.”

“What?”

“In here.”

“But… I’m wearing jeans.”

“Well then take them off, you goof.”

“I-I… um.”

Deciding to give him privacy, you stick your head back in the shower and rinse out the shampoo. The whole time you’re finishing your shower routine, you assume Kai’s going to join you at any time. You haven’t gone that far in your relationship yet, but he is a teenage boy, and he does love kissing you every chance he gets.

You two have done more than kissing, of course, but just haven’t gone all the way. And there’s plenty of reasons for that: too many people in this damn house, someone might walk in, someone might overhear, etc. etc. etc. But aside from the obvious reasons, you can’t help but feel like there’s also reasons that Kai isn’t sharing. 

He likes to spend a lot of your time together practically worshipping your body. His lips and fingers have touched nearly every part of you, but he isn’t too keen on letting you do the same. 

Kai holds you in place with a hand on your neck. His lips are attached right below, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand’s busy farther down - two fingers pumping in and out of you quickly. You bite your lip hard to not moan as you cum on his hands. He continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, not letting up until your body stills. Then, he tastes one finger before putting the second in your mouth. You suck on it, eyes trained on him the whole time. 

“My turn. Let me make you feel good, Kai.”

“You are. I like watching you like this.”

“No, I know. But I want to taste you, too. Let me blow you.”

Kai bites his lip as if he’s having an internal debate. “Isn’t this so much better, though?” Before you can say anything else, he kisses you, feeling his hands up and down the sides of your body as he does. “Now let me cuddle you, m’kay? Let me take care of you.”

You’re too overwhelmed in pleasure to fight, and succumb to his open arms. Minutes later, you’re both asleep. 

You don’t pry if he tells you ‘no’ the first time, but of course, you can’t help but wonder why he’s never let you even see his body. 

“Take your shirt off, why am I the only one exposed?” You joke, pulling at the hem.

“Hmph, no, baby, I’m too focused on you,” he says. 

Every time. He won’t even take his bracelets off, let alone any of his clothes. Again, you don’t push him - he’ll take that step when he’s ready - but you really want to pleasure him the same way he does you. And besides, he just has to be hot under there; his face is insanely attractive, arms are strong, and figure is lean. You’re dying to know. 

“Y/N?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts.

“Mhm?”

“I, um, actually nevermind.”

“You okay, angel?”

“Yeah, just…”

Done with your shower, you turn off the water and grab your towel. You would just go out nude despite him there, but you know the air will be cold, so you wrap the blue cloth around your body. “Well now I’m done.” Carefully, you open the door and step off the slippery floor.

In front of you, Kai is standing awkwardly. His jeans are still on, but his shirt is off and folded neatly on the bathroom counter. You gulp the minute you see his body for the first time. As you expected, he’s lean and rather well-toned for someone not allowed out of his house much. His arms have some muscle to them, and you can see several prominent veins close to the surface of his skin. What catches your eye most, however, is the sharp v-line shaping his hips, leading to somewhere still hidden from your sight. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Kai swallows hard. His eyes are red. You don’t notice the signs of discomfort, though, until a small sigh escapes his lips. 

You narrow your eyes when you hear him. “What's wrong, pumpkin?” Hurrying towards him, you cup the sides of his face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I hate it.”

“Hate what?”

“Hate my body.”

“What do you mean? You’re gorgeous, Kai.”

“All the ew, all the stupid… everything.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t see anything ‘ew’.”

“Look closer.”

“Are you sure? If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t.”

“Just do it.”

Nervous, you step back to look at him closer. “Oh,” you mutter, suddenly saddened. Discolored skin in shades of green, yellow, and purple. Bruises, new and old. Handprints, whip marks, slaps from an open palm, all fading from red. Then there are the cuts, up and down his arms, some on his stomach, some on his shoulders. Clearly self-inflicted, though the bruises were all clearly marks of abuse. 

“Now you see how ugly I really am.”

“No, no, Kai…” Gently, you run a finger across a row of evidential abuse. He flinches a little and you can’t help the tear that falls from your eyes. “You’re still gorgeous, baby.”

“Hm,” he mutters, shaking his head ‘no’.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I promise. You are still beautiful to me. And I still want you, I still want every inch of your body. You don’t have to hide from me. Hey, I have some, too.”

You peel the towel away a bit to expose several cuts along your upper arm. 

He sniffs, “those weren’t there the other day.”

“I know, baby. But yesterday was really hard with my dad, and this was the only way I could think of to cope.”

Kai remembers yesterday. Your dad had forced you to go out with him to visit different universities in the area. By the time you both got back, he was fuming and you were holding back tears. 

“He got pissed at me when I said I didn’t want to go to college. He asked me why I was the family failure, and why I couldn’t be more like him.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay, now that I’m back beside you.”

“He’s a dick. Your brother’s a dick.”

“My point is, Kai, that we have a lot of the same scars. You don’t think I’m any less beautiful because of them, so why should you think that about yourself?”

“Because I also have bruises from my fucking dad.”

“That’s not your fault, baby. Your dad is an even bigger dick than mine. And just because you have wounds on your body from his hand doesn’t mean I don’t love you or your body any less.”

Kai freezes, “you love me?”

You then freeze, too. “I, um…” Then you realize that that confession may be exactly what he needs to hear. “Yes. I do love you, Kai.”

Tears that were welling in his eyes are now falling, “why?”

“Why? Why not? Because on top of being absolutely gorgeous, you’re an amazing friend and boyfriend. You’re sweet and gentle and trying your best despite the awful circumstances you’ve been given. You’re always there through the good and bad, and I could never get tired of being with you.”

“Can I admit that I love you, too?”

You smile and nod happily before leaning in quickly to kiss him. Amidst your excitement, your towel falls from your body, and your breasts rub up against his bare chest. Kai lets out a moan at the contact, but then separates from the kiss to cover his mouth with his hand. You just raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Feel good?”

Instead of answering, his hands find your breasts and feel them. His eyes roll back in his head. “So soft,” he mutters.

“Kai?”

“Hm?”

“Does this mean I can see you now?”

“Um, I, n- uh-” he stutters over every word. 

“You know what? It’s okay. Later?”

“Okay.”

“Sounds good. And I hate to say it, but we have to stop,” you pause to pull on your panties and jeans, “because Jo will start getting suspicious soon,” you have to ignore Kai’s pouting face as you put on your bra, “and she doesn’t need to see us like this, because she’ll tell your dad.” Your shirt is on next, “and then my dad. And then you’ll get hurt.” He watches you pull your hair out from under your shirt and flip it to curl around your face, “and you’re not getting hurt on my watch. Okay?”

Kai nods, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, pumpkin.” You two share another kiss before leaving the bathroom. Kai grabs his shirt on the way out, fumbling to put it on, along with his multiple bracelets. “Downstairs? I need some water.”

“Sure.”

The minute you reach the last step, Jo calls out to you, “did Kai find you?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Okay. He came in a little bit after you went up. I told him you were in the shower, but not to bother you. He listened to me, right?”

“He didn’t bother me at all. Was very gentlemanly and waited in his room for me to come out.” You wink at Kai as you lie straight to Jo’s turned face. Luckily, she’s fixated on the movie. 

“Okay, good.”

“I’m just going to get a drink and then we’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

◇◇◇◇

“Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’s a huge festival, it’s a lot of fun,” Mr. Parker asks one more time as he’s halfway out the door. 

You take another glance at the amount of people crowding the doorway: your brother and parents, plus Kai’s parents and all his siblings. Minus him, of course. “I’m sure. I’m not too big on crowds, and I’m kinda tired. Might just see if Kai wants to watch a movie.”

“Okay, but be careful.” Then, Mr. Parker leans closer to whisper in your ear. The gray hairs of his beard lightly touch your skin, making you shiver in fear. “And don’t get too close to him.”

“Noted.”

“We should be back around three-ish, more or less,” your Dad adds. 

“Okay.”

“Don’t leave the house, and certainly don’t let him sneak out,” Mr. Parker piggy-backs off your dad’s comment. Jeez, it’s like they’re long-lost irritating brothers.

“I won’t. He’ll stay here with me.”

“But not too close, becau-”

“I heard it the first time, Dad. I trust Kai enough that we’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Go have fun, okay?” You had to downplay your friendship to make them think you only trusted him a little. If they knew the truth - that you’d trust him with your life - they’d definitely stage an intervention and never let you see each other again. 

“Okay, just making sure. See you later, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

Finally, they leave. It takes ten minutes for nine kids to assemble between two cars, between the Parkers’ van and your parents’ SUV, but they eventually make it work. You can literally hear two kids crying over “having to sit in the back again”, but then you hear your Dad’s voice, “ride with me, if it’s okay with your Dad.” The crying ceases at last, and the cars pull out of the gate. 

“Are they gone yet?” Kai comes downstairs about a minute after they left.

“Just pulled out. What were you doing?”

He swallows, “um.” While struggling to answer, you give him a look. “I’m used to hiding during the van-packing process.”

“Okay,” you answer, not entirely convinced. 

He bites his lip, “okay, that part is true. I do hide when they do that because sometimes someone storms back in to grab something to appease the ones stuck in the back, like a snack or whatever. But, um, what I was actually doing was… trying to,” he pauses, and you let him find the words, “build up the courage to, um… can I just kiss you?”

You’re confused, but you’ll never deny him a kiss. Smile forming on your lips, you close the three foot gap between you two, hands tracing his jawline, capturing his face, while kissing him softly. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips. There’s something different about this kiss than your usual ones. Something more hungry… willing, maybe. Whatever it is, you let him take charge. 

As soon as the shift in control changes, he spins the both of you around so that you’re pressed into the counter, rather than himself, while he kisses you deeper. His lips leave your mouth to trail down your jaw, to your neck, but then he suddenly stops to look up at you. 

“Everything okay?”

“Can we go upstairs?”

“Of course.” You joke, “afraid someone’s gonna walk in?”

He misses your teasing tone and replies bluntly, “no, I wanna fuck you.”

You nearly trip up the first stair, causing you to grab a tight hold of his hand. “What’d you say?”

“Is that okay?”

“I-uh-um- yes, just caught me off guard. What brought it on?”

“You said you loved me. And that you liked my body even with all the scars. And that if I can love yours with scars, you can love mine.”

“I did say that. I meant every word.”

“And so now we’re here alone, and I’m going to act on something I’ve wanted to do a long time ago.” 

You reach the top of the stairs. He has an arm around your back to prevent you from falling, just in case, as he stares into your eyes for hesitancy. You give none. “Then do it.”

Instantly, your back collides with the hallway wall and he kisses you with the same tenacity he did downstairs. Out of habit, your hands find his hair; his, your waist, but he’s a lot more confident now. Slowly, he inches the both of you towards his door. His hand fumbles with the knob, making him frustrated.

“Wish I could just open the stupid thing with magic.”

“If I had magic, I’d let you take it whenever,” you answer, again, with no hesitancy. 

He stops to stare at you. “You would?”

“Mhm. I mean it, Kai, I love you.”

“But the siphoning hurts.”

You shrug, “can’t hurt that bad. I imagine it’d probably actually feel good. At least for me, maybe not other people. Send little tingles all the way down to my-”

He cuts you off with an open mouthed kiss. “Now I really wish you had magic.”

“-and then a part of me would kinda be in your blood, too, right?” You finish the second part of what you wanted to say. 

“Holy fuck, you’re turning me on.”

“Open the door, Kai,” you urge. 

He finally does, but in the second you take to catch a breath, he’s back on you. He takes advantage of your state and slips his tongue in your mouth, no regard for anything but his and your pleasures. You go weak in his arms and let him explore, enjoying the feeling much more than you probably should. Then, he taps on your hips signaling for you to jump. You do, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you to the bed, finally, and throws you down rather roughly.

Immediately, panic takes over his face. “Shit, that was way harder than I meant to! You okay?”

You, on the other hand, can’t get a word out because you’re giggling too hard. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” He tries again.

“You’re so hot when you’re all dominant. Well, you’re always hot, but-” and then you continue to giggle. 

Kai relaxes, realizing he didn’t hurt you. “Oh you little-” he climbs on top of you until he’s hovering over your face. Legs tangle together, bodies close but not close enough… You buck your hips. There, now they’re close enough. “You’ve been wanting this,” he observes, fighting back a moan at the contact. 

“Yes, but also, your comfort is my number one priority. It’s much better now, with you enjoying it too, than if we were to try when you weren’t ready.”

“Thank you, princess,” he kisses your nose sweetly. 

“Thank you for trusting me. One thing though.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you trust me right now?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Without further warning, you grab his wrists and flip him over so that his back is pressed into the bed. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on top of him, and the power makes you giddy. 

“I thought you liked me being dominant?”

“Oh, I do. But I also want to see you writhe under me,” you wink at him. 

Kai gives you a look, and you know he’s going to start fighting any minute now. It’s in his eyes, and you can feel his muscles under you tensing to build up the strength. In the last second before you think he’s going to try and take charge, your hand goes down to the outline forming in his jeans. All fight is immediately gone as soon as you start to feel him. He can’t even fight the moan he’s been holding back since you started making out downstairs. The sound spurs you on and you rub him harder.

“More, princess. Please.”

You move your legs to straddle him, hands going to his belt. “This okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Words, please.”

“What am I, five?”

You cock your head at him. “Words, or no further touching.”

“Princess,” he tries to buck his hips like you did, but you’re holding him down.

“Come on, Malachai.”

“Don’t use that name.”

“Mala-”

“Fine! Yes, please. It’s okay. Please.” You smirk, not expecting the begging, but loving it. “You little sadist.”

That only makes you love it more. Not wasting another second, your hands are undoing his belt. As much as you want to take it slowly, you’re both too excited to drag it out any longer. Besides, just by looking at him, you can see how hard he is, and you know you’re almost soaking your panties with wetness. 

“Wait,” he pants. 

You stop immediately. “You okay?”

“I need… I need. C’mere,” he beckons you forward, and you listen. “Need this off,” he pulls off your shirt. “And this,” next is your bra. The minute it’s off, he loses control and grabs your tits like he did in the bathroom a couple days earlier. Before you know it, he’s fondling one while the other’s in his mouth. 

“If mine is, this is coming off, too.” You make a grab for his shirt. He pauses, tongue still around your nipple. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he seems to decide in that instant. 

In order for you to pull the fabric over his head, he has to disconnect his mouth from your breast. But when it’s off, he swallows hard and doesn’t reach for them again.

“Kai… c’mon, pumpkin.” You take his hand to put it back on your body, trying to return that sense of comfort, but he doesn’t grasp your breast again. Sighing, you take it as a moment to get a closer look at his body. The bruises, the scars, everything. A tear escapes your eye, and you lean down to press a kiss to one of the purplish wounds. Then, you start to do that with all of them. From his neck to his hips, you kiss every mark made on his body, whether by his dad’s hand or his own. On the fresher ones, your lips are more gentle, barely there, not wanting to cause him more pain. But on the older ones, you leave multiple kisses, or even lick them with your tongue before kissing. “I meant it, Kai. You’re gorgeous. These marks don’t stop me from loving you.”

Slowly, he makes eye contact with you again. His hands reach out to your face, and when he gets a hold of you, he pulls you in for another deep kiss on his lips. “What did I do to deserve you?” He asks with a tear emerging.

“You don’t have to deserve love, baby.” You kiss his collarbone. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your lips travel to his chest. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you swirl your tongue around one of his nipples. He moans loudly, arching his back.

“Holy shit, I didn’t know that would feel that good.”

“Can I continue to make you feel things like that?”

“Yes, please. I need it, I need you. Wait, but let me-” he suddenly sticks two fingers into your wet heat, hovering over his own body, and pops them in his mouth. “You taste so good.”

“Are you gonna let me taste you now?”

“Sure. Yes. I meant yes.”

Your eyes warm and you continue to kiss him further down - this time, trailing his v-line. You had noticed the prominent indents the other day, but are now getting to see it up close. He moans again, enticing you more. 

“Princess.”

“I’m working on it.” Finally, you shrug his jeans down and off his body. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to hide his now-bare legs, but you opt to not pay attention to them anyway. Your gaze goes straight to the bulge in his boxers that looks even thicker without his jeans in the way. Mouth watering, you touch him first, enjoying the feeling. 

“Y/N, please. It’s uncomfortable. Too tight.”

Succumbing to his wishes, you tap his hips for him to lift them, then peel back the final confinement. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach in the process. You’re quick to lean forward and lick a stripe from the base to the tip. Kai sinks his head into the pillow, groaning huskily. After pulling his boxers all the way off, you refocus your attention back to the length in front of you. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” you mutter. The praise makes him twitch, and you immediately reach out to grasp him between two of your fingers. “Need to taste.” And then you finally do. You start at the tip, rolling your tongue over the slit counter clockwise, stimulating precum in the process. Some of it leaks into your mouth, straight down your throat, but most of it drips down the side of cock. It doesn’t get far, though, before you move your head to catch it, licking your way from the base to the tip, again. 

A shiver runs through his body. “Feels so good.” Barely audible, but you hear him. 

Positioning your head over him, you prepare to take him fully. To you, it’s a five second break of deep breaths, but to Kai, overwhelmed in pleasure, there’s almost no warning. As soon as you’re ready, you sink your mouth down on him until you get about halfway and your gag reflex kicks in. Cock hitting the back of your throat, you gag around him.

“Y/N, you okay?” He sits up on his elbows, worried he’d accidentally hurt you.

Slowly, you lift your head back up, “I’m good, baby. Just training my throat to take you.”

He swallows so hard that you see his Adam’s apple bob. “Oh, um…” He doesn’t lay back down, opting to watch you instead. 

You don’t mind as you go down for a second time, getting further now. You do it several times, taking more and more of him each time. Your tongue swirls around his length and traces his veins. In fact, there’s one vein in particular that especially makes Kai moan every time you hit it. It’s on the underside of his cock, and you start to pay special attention to it. The rest of his length sits against your face as you focus on it.

Kai doesn’t know if the sight or the feeling is affecting him more. Either way, he feels himself getting close to release. Your mouth is around him, head bobbing up and down rapidly, when he twitches. He whines, resisting the urge to hold your head where he wants. Suddenly, though, you stop and remove your mouth completely. 

“Fuck, wait, I’m about to…”

“I know, pumpkin. Can’t let you do that yet.”

He’s about to ask why, but then sees his answer. In one quick motion, you’re removing your own pants and lining your bodies together. “Ready?”

“Mhm. Yes.”

You smile, grab his cock to hold it upright, then sink your heat down onto him. Kai collapses, elbows no longer supporting him, as pleasure consumes him.

“You okay?”

“Yes, oh- oh god.”

“Can I move? I’ll start slow.”

“Please.”

As promised, you slowly begin to ride his length. Your hands rest on either side of his body and lips are pressed to his chest, leaving hot kisses all over his skin. 

“Let me know if you want to try and take over.”

“Okay.”

When Kai starts to relax, you pick up the pace. Not too fast, but little by little. Soon, his hands find your hips and he helps guide you. His fingers have a tight grip on you, but it only makes you wetter. 

“I think, I wanna… wanna try…”

“Want to be on top, angel?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. You can just flip us or I can move, what are you feeling?” But the hungry look in his eyes already gives you your answer.

As soon as you nod and grab onto his shoulders, he flips the both of you so that you’re now pressed into the bed. With his usual role re-established, so does his dominance. You open your legs wider to give him more access, and he immediately takes advantage of it. With a lick of his lips, he pushes his cock into you, not stopping until he’s run out of length. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“Is it too much?”

“No, you’re perfect. Move when you’re ready, mmkay?”

He nods, then copies the way you rode him when he begins to move: arms on your side, head ducked into your chest. His lips attach to your nipples, sucking, and pulling them between his teeth. When he gets a hold of his balance, you feel pressure on your clit, too. 

“Fuck, Kai. You’re so good.”

His body jolts, “say it again.”

“What?”

“Name. Say it again.”

“Kai,” you pant as he quickens pace.

“No one else is home baby, say it louder.”

You had forgotten this fact, actually, but the minute he reminds you, you let yourself go. “Fuck,” you moan, rather loudly, “feels so good, Kai! Fuck. Harder.”

He spreads your legs wider and thrusts harder upon request. Obscene sounds fill the room, mixed with your moans and whimpers.

“Kai,” you pant, “need to hear you, too.”

“I’d rather hear you, Princess.”

“Aw, come on, gorgeous. Nothing turns me on more than men moaning,” you admit. “Need to hear you.”

Previously held-back grunts and groans tumble from his mouth at your confession. When his lips return to your nipple, he makes sure to keep up with your request, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

“I’m close, Kai. So close, so close… don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“I’m getting there, too,” he twitches again. “Come for me, Princess.”

As soon as he asks, your orgasm rips through your body. Loud moans follow, and your eyes roll back in your head. Kai rides you through yours, before pulling out and immediately releasing all over your face and chest. Some drips off your shoulders, down to the bedsheets.

The minute he catches his breath, a worried expression takes over his face, “I’m sorry! I knew I shouldn’t do it inside you, but wasn’t sure where else to. I aimed for your chest and misfired.”

You make direct eye contact with him, then swipe a bunch off your cheek with your finger before sucking it off. “Oh, I’ll never complain about a facial.” You dart your tongue out to the side to gather more. “And don’t worry, I kinda like the taste. How the hell were you a virgin, Kai?! You were amazing the whole way through!”

He blushes, “um, thank you.”

You can’t help but giggle. Only Kai would be sweet enough to thank you for complimenting his sexual ability. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you had lost your virginity, threw you an, “I know,” when you told him he was good. This little fact just made you love Kai even more. 

Then, as if he couldn’t get more perfect, his next words are, “can I clean you up now, Princess? And then we can cuddle and nap?”

“Of course. Give me a kiss first.”

Kai leans forward and kisses you sweetly. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, wetting it gently. 

“Blood,” he comments.

“Hm?”

“There’s blood on your lip.”

You run your own tongue along it, “must’ve bit it in pleasure.”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He pulls on a loose pair of sweatpants from his drawer, giving you a wink. 

“Okay, darling.”

Two minutes later, Kai returns with a warm rag and a water bottle. First, he cleans the small sore and any remaining blood off your lip, then hands you the bottle. “Drink,” he insists. As you do, he moves the rag over your face and down your neck and chest, cleaning off his drying cum. He rubs your lower body next, easing some of the soreness as well as wiping away your cum. “Anywhere else?”

“No, I’m okay. Do you need anything?”

“Just you,” he sappily replies. 

“Okay, come here then.” Arms wide open, you gather him up and pull him close. You take a hand away for a split-second to pull the blankets over you two, earning a whine before he realizes what you’re doing. As soon as your arm is back around him, he snuggles into your body. “I love you, Kai,” you whisper with your lips against his cheek.

“I love you, too, Princess. Thank you for making me feel like I’m worth something to someone.” 

As much as his words sadden you, they also make you feel warm inside. You’re the one that makes him feel that way, and that’s pretty fucking special. 

“Always, my sweetheart.” You give him a kiss to the cheek, keeping your lips there even afterwards. His heartbeat slows into a comfortable rhythm and breathing evens out, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your arms. 

[buckets-and-trees]

First Night

I promised two anniversary fics this weekend, and it's still "this weekend" in a couple of time zones...

Fandom: MCU Series: The Brooklyn Boys Title: First Night Characters/Pairings: Stucky x female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Takes place immediately after the events of the final part 10 Steve and the Best Friend. Dinner and a movie and...

Content Warnings: fluff, feelings, soft semi-retired superheroes

Additional Notes: Filling my ninth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - U1 "Galaxy" and is the much spoken of (by me) PROMISED ANNIVERSARY EPISODE TO CELEBRATE POSTING PART ONE FOR THIS SERIES A YEAR AGO! These boys meant a lot to me back then and writing for them again to celebrate this with all of you has been a dream.

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Bucky kisses the back of your hand, then stands from the couch, checking his watch. “Dinner’s about ready. I’ll go finish it off.”

As he leaves the living room, Steve scoots a little closer. He pulls you into a short kiss, then rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, and you breathe in the moment.

“I know it’s so predictable to ask you about your day,” he says, “but I’ve been waiting for weeks to just have these everyday conversations with you.”

You smile, though you know he can’t see it. You’re sure he can feel it because you can feel it coming from him, too.

“When we went to dinner that night, I thought that was going to be the beginning of so many days like that, seeing you, texting with you, just sharing everything with you.

Your heart stutters and leaps, “I wanted that, too. I’m sorry it wasn’t–”

He stops you with another gentle press of his lips to yours and cups your cheek. “No, I didn’t mean to bring it up to make you feel guilty. Tony would say if you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs. I think we’re coming through for the better.”

In the time that you’ve spent with Steve, you’ve become aware of how influential and powerful his mood is in any situation, and right now he’s feeling a contentment that really does envelop you.

So you sit back a little in the armchair, but take his hand, and start talking. He holds your hand in both of his, idle stroking of the back of your hand with his thumb as he listens. You talk about the bookshop. Bucky has become a regular, but Steve hasn’t been in yet. You’re eager to share that with him soon, too. You tell him about an upcoming book launch event you solidified today with a local author – it’s their debut novel, but they’ve been a frequent friend of your shop for a few years. “Oh,” you suddenly remember to ask, “you mentioned before that you were getting a lot of chatter about some things happening in Turkey. Is that where you and Bucky went?”

“Yeah.” He grins, probably pleased that you remembered. “Turkey was… interesting.”

“I’ve wanted to go to Turkey! Mission stuff aside because I know that’s probably classified, did you get to experience anything?”

“Not too much, but we did get to see a little of Istanbul. It was beautiful.” He tilts his head a little. “I… would like to go back and see more.”

You plant your elbow on the armrest of your chair and prop your chin on the hand Steve’s not holding. “Steve, have you even been on a vacation?”

He shakes his head. “Only day trips or weekends once or twice upstate when I was a kid. We kept on the move and covered a lot of territory when we didn’t agree to the Sokovia Accords, but that was survival and trying to be of use while keeping a low profile, not traveling. And during The Blip, it never even crossed my mind.”

You squeeze his hand.

“We should go.”

“I’ve never done as much traveling as I wanted either. Couldn’t afford it when I was starting out, then… yeah, The Blip, and since the Second Snap, it’s been busy, but now…”

“Now maybe we have even more reason to make it something to prioritize.”

Butterflies flare in your stomach when he smiles at you like that. Your chest gets that happy tightness. This was why you said yes to them.

“So, Turkey,” you say, a little breathlessly.

“I’ll put it on the list.”

You’re melting.

“Dinner is almost ready!” Bucky’s voice calls from the kitchen. “Steve, come set the table!”

“France should probably go near the top of the list.”

Steve nods in agreement and pulls you up as he stands. He keeps your hand in his as he walks both of you into the kitchen.

“Bucky won’t let us eat in the kitchen, not even at the stools at the counter,”

“Damn right I won’t!” he says, already catching your conversation. “The French wouldn’t hear of it, and I worked hard enough for us to eat at the altar of a proper table.”

“Everything smells incredible,” you gush when you enter their beautiful kitchen. Every part of the brownstone you’ve seen so far is beautiful.

Bucky turns and flashes a devastating grin before turning back to his prep. “Glad you think so.”

Steve brings you to a stop right next to Bucky, who is fully occupied whisking egg yolks one at a time into a custard on the stove, a separate pan with melted chocolate set off to the side. You lean your hip against the counter so you can watch.

Standing behind him, Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder on the other side and leans over the stove to stick his finger in the chocolate, getting his taste before Bucky can stop him.

“Rogers!” Bucky growls.

You laugh, and Steve grins wickedly.

“It’s good.”

“Get to setting the table. Food’s already set, just going to finish this off and put it in the oven.”

“And pour the wine?”

“We’ve got a Syrah, right? Or any Bordeaux blend.”

“I’ll look and see.”

“Can I help?” you ask.

They both immediately frown at you. “You’re not lifting a finger the first dinner you’re eating here with us,” Bucky says adamantly.

You hold your hands up quickly in surrender. “Understood,” you laugh.

“Good girl,” Steve says, his smile immediately returning. “I’ll go sort out the wine.”

He squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he leaves the kitchen.

It hits you out of nowhere. There’s a short constriction in your chest at seeing how easy that casual intimate gesture was between them. They’ve known each other for years and years longer than they’ve known you. You’re nowhere near close to that ease and familiarity with them yet. Will this work?

“Come here,” Bucky invites you in closer, and as you step forward, he tucks an arm around you and pulls you securely into his side while he continues whisking with his other hand. Did your insecurity show on your face? Did he merely suspect it? Or maybe he just wanted to hold you for no other reason than wanting to. Whatever the reason, it does soothe away that doubt that had tried to creep in. He presses a kiss to your temple. “I missed you. I don’t know if I would’ve been patient enough to wait much longer. Steve was adamant we had to wait for you to set the timing though.”

Your chest blooms with warmth. You’re glad they did wait – you had needed the time to think and sort out your heart so you could feel secure jumping all in – but it also made you feel good to know he’d been eager. You circle your arms around his waist and look up at him. “Thank you.” You could say more, but you think he knows. His eyes and a squeeze of his arm around you say that he does.  “Kiss me?”

“Always,” and he does. It’s a swift kiss because he is in the middle of the complexities of whatever he’s cooking, but he makes sure even the short kiss takes your breath away.

You only just manage not to whimper when he draws his lips away. Instead, you content yourself with resting your head against his chest. “Now what is it you’re making?”

“The boeuf bourguignon was easy to finish off, and I had decided something decadent for dessert was in order. Chocolate soufflé.”

“Damn, Barnes, you know how to impress a girl.”

He laughs. “Honey, get ready for a lot more of this.”

Your stomach flips, but he doesn't leave you flustered for long, diving into normal conversation while he continued working, Steve coming in and out of the kitchen to set the table. Bucky allows you to assist him as sous chef for only a moment, letting you to open the oven door when he was ready to carefully put the chocolate delicacy in to bake.

Then the three of you sit down to dinner, and it wasn’t an oversell to say it is one of the best meals of your life. The food is incredible, and simply being there with the two of them with the conversation, the laughter, the way they look at you, the way they look at each other, all of it is bliss. That bliss bleeds into Bucky taking the chocolate soufflé out of the oven and the three of you devouring the rich masterpiece. Then you settle in to watch a movie together, you tucked between them.

When you wake up, you are no longer tucked between your super soldiers, but instead tucked beneath a set of soft sheets and blanket that are unfamiliar to you, your head rests on a comfortable but foreign pillow, and your body feels the awkwardness of having slept in your jeans and button-down blouse. The latter wasn’t awful, but never ideal. Why were you asleep in your day clothes? You shift and yawn and sink a little more into the pillows and mattress, appreciating how cozy they are but wondering where exactly you were. You rewind your memory and start to recall a few of the last details in your mind – leaning up against Bucky’s side, Steve pulling your legs up across his lap and giving you a foot massage while the opening scenes of a movie played out.

They had let you choose the movie, and you’d gone with The Count of Monte Cristo, one of your favorites, but now you weren’t certain you’d even made it to the Chateau D’If with poor Edmond Dantes before falling asleep. Actually, you were pretty sure it was that soothing foot massage that had you lost to the land of the waking. You do have a vague half recollection of being scooped up from the couch into someone’s arms, but that was it.

It's clearly what landed you here.

You roll onto your back and smile. The ceiling is littered with carefully mapped out constellations, a glow in the dark replication of the galaxy. Adorable nerd, you think, and with a look around the room, the shelf full of books that covers an entire wall of the room and a neatly stacked pile of three books on the bedside table let you know you must be in Bucky’s bed. There is a low level of moonlight casting a glow across the room from the windows, and you remember the distinct thought you’d had about wanting to see how this man kept his books and what else was in his collection, but that would need to wait for daylight. You never would have dreamed this was how things would have played out all those weeks ago.

A little more alert, your throat feels a little dry, and knowing once the thought has crossed your mind you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep without a drink of water, and it was clearly too late to go home (or late enough to absolutely justify staying in this very cozy place for the rest of the night and seeing your boys in the morning), you pull back the covers and shift out of bed. Sitting at the foot of the mattress you see a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that are clearly meant for you, and a huge sleepy smile splits across your face. You discard your clothes, feeling immediately comfortable in the alternative – which smell like Steve.

Bucky’s bed but Steve’s clothes.

Your head spins happily as you pad quietly into the hallway and make your way to the kitchen.

Once properly watered, you make your way back to the bedrooms, carefully bringing the partially-refilled glass with you just in case you get thirsty again. It is so quiet in their home, but comfortably so. You will get to see more in the daylight, but you love how it feels already. You pause at the doorway to Bucky’s room, bite your lip, and turn to look across the hallway at another bedroom door.

You don't want to sleep alone in Bucky’s room when they are together in Steve’s.

Heart pounding just a little, you step across the hallway and slowly turn the doorknob, trying to open the door as quietly as you can. You step inside, but then stop and look around. This was an unoccupied bedroom – it had a bed, but that bed was empty, and this room didn’t seem to have much to it. It was a guest bedroom. A little bloom shoots through your heart at the thought that while they had wanted to give you every bit of privacy – leaving you clothed, giving you a bed to yourself – it felt intimate in its own way to know that they’d tucked you in in Bucky’s room, not the guest bedroom.

Not at all nervous now, you step back into the hallway, close that door, and make your way further down the hall, eager to find where these two impossibly wonderful men were slumbering and join them. The next door on the left was a bathroom, but the door on the right is Steve’s. Bucky is asleep, but Steve is sitting up against the headboard and had been engrossed in scrolling in something on his phone, earbuds in, but looks up when your movement pulls his attention. He grins and pulls the buds out, “Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you breath, padding toward his side of the bed.

He nudges Bucky as you make your way over. Bucky groans.

“Told you our girl would make her way to us before sunrise,” Steve says to him, and that seems to bring Bucky around slightly.

Steve sets his phone on his bedside table, takes the glass from your hand to set it there as well, and pulls back the covers so you can hop up and crawl in and join them. Bucky immediately pulls you in to his chest, kissing the top of your head. You sigh as Steve closes in behind you, and between your two super soldiers, you quickly drift back to sleep, held safely in their arms.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[unicyclehippo]

reminder to self: finish the dang wash prompt

[have read it too many times & now my brain is fried so that’s it!! im done!! for @possibilistfanfiction​ the ray fic as promised, i hope u enjoy it!! for everyone else, if you think you’ve read this before, that’s because the start is functionally identical to the thing i posted a few weeks back for the “wash” prompt]

//

you should have listened to your brother. 

the thought makes you shudder and you ignore it valiantly as you start your morning, because at the heart of it, that’s what you do: you’re a runaway. 

hop out of bed; don’t think about it. make breakfast in your tiny kitchen, the overhead light a little dim but bright enough against blue pre-dawn morning; don’t think about it. get ready for work, check the to-do list note in your phone twice to make sure you’ve got everything you need; don’t think about it. not thinking about it works just fine until, asshole that he is, he calls you as you’re climbing into the car. 

you think about ignoring him but as much as he ticks you off—and you know that the first or maybe last words out of his mouth are gonna be, when are you coming home, ray—it’s been three weeks since the last time you spoke and you miss him. plus, it’s not as if he’s wrong (ugh). it is lonely here, sometimes, and you have friends closeby but no family, and your stomach hurt all last winter because no one wanted to learn to surf when the water was fuck-off cold and the jobs you got to cover those in-between months didn’t ever last long enough, and he’s right about all of that but he’s wrong about it not being worth it. he’s wrong about you needing to come home, because there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here and maybe, yeah, maybe that makes you selfish or reckless or any of the other things he’d called you in anger, regretted quickly, but the smell of seasalt and smog clings to you and you feel good, healthy, when you swing into the drivers seat of your car and excitement swells up inside of you—like always, every morning without fail—because this was never about running away, not really, it was always about this. about running to something, about having a different home, about making a place where you feel right in yourself, braver and better too. maybe when you explain that to him this time, for what feels like the hundredth time, he’ll get it. 

you put the phone in its clip, up on the dash, and answer his call. 

‘hey,’ he says, voice gravelly with the early hour and the crackle of your shitty reception. ‘didn’t think you were gonna pick up. figured you were still ignoring my calls.’

god, you miss him. but he’s your brother so you won’t ever say that except under pain of torture, maybe. Instead, you say, tone clipped,

‘thought about it.’ it’s not helpful to be short with him but hell, you answered, didn’t you? It doesn’t fall on you to fix all of this. 

he sits with that for a second, then clears his throat. you can picture him clear as day: he’ll be leaning back against the counter of his kitchen, arms folded, face folded up as he listens hard to every word. there’ll be coffee brewing in a pot, and all the stuff for the kids lunches laid out ready for the assembly line. 

he tries again. you love him for this, you admire him for this—not that you’ll ever admit it to him. he never stops trying. 

‘you off to work?’

‘yeah.’

‘how’s that going?’

for a second, there’s another short answer on your lips. something terse, something not quite unkind but not welcoming or inviting. but then you think about him standing in the kitchen pre-dawn making your sandwiches, day after day, and glance to the passenger seat to your bag where you tossed the sandwich you’d made this morning in your tiny kitchen—exactly the way he used to make it, and makes now for his son and daughter—and instead you say, 

‘i have a new student.’

‘oh? kid or adult class?’

‘adult.’ 

there’s a smile in his tone, just exactly as teasing as when you were fourteen and admitted to having a crush on sophie perez (a year older than you and so much cooler), when he says, ‘is she pretty?’

‘oh, come on marco.’

‘what! i’m just asking.’

‘you’re just being nosy is what you are.’

‘sorry, sorry,’ he laughs. ‘but that’s totally a yes, by the way.’

you roll your eyes. there’s not really a word for what beatrice is. pretty, yes, absolutely. but it’s sneaky, the ways in which she’s really stunning, and even after three sessions teaching her how to surf you still feel kinda knocked around by her, not quite able to find your feet. she’s so composed, always, that it makes you feel awkward. listens so intently to your instructions and advice that under that close attention you feel singular, like the only person in the world. and, you don’t tell him, cannot tell your brother without seeming like the world’s biggest weirdo, you’ve seen her smile two and a half times. the half had been an accident; you’d turned to her at just the right moment to witness it—she’d been looking at nothing in particular, an empty spot on the beach, eyes gone wistful—but it wasn’t for you, and it wasn’t exactly happy, so it doesn’t seem right to count it as a full third. each time she smiles, it makes you want to see another with a fierceness that startles you. you are no stranger to want, nor attraction, and you know that makes up part of your fascination with beatrice but, if that were not enough, there is even more to her. 

all the rest, your brother could wheedle out of you eventually, but this is something you keep locked tightly away, something you have not ever spoken to him about. 

you should, eventually. you will (you might). 

the first time you met beatrice, spoke with her after wading up and out of the hissing surf, with her lingering on the outskirts of your lessons to “inquire how to take part”—she’d taken the sheet you’d handed her and filled it out right there and then in careful script, beatrice, she/her, twenty four, england, never surfed before, email, phone number, emergency contact, the last of which had made her pause for a long time—something in you had recognised something in her. grief, still painful, had welled up in your chest, nailed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, stung in your eyes powerfully that you’d had to turn away and run your fingers through your hair, dig your heels into the sand, step back into the wet sand and the water pooling around your ankles. the ocean takes away everything you’re not ready to feel; while you are out there, it holds you up, weightless. two minutes into talking with beatrice, you know that she wants the same thing. 

none of which you particularly want to tell your brother, so you say, ‘yeah, she’s pretty.’

‘single?’

‘i haven’t asked.’

‘you should.’

‘should i?’ 

pulling neatly into the park by the boardwalk—your favourite, for no particular reason other than this was the same one you always take, the same one you took the first day you came here, ended up here—you turn off the car but don’t make any move to get out. the engine quietens, then goes silent. marco fills the silence. saying things like how long has it been since you went on a date and you never know unless you try. you pull the keys from the ignition, toss them into the little waterproof bag you’ll take down to the sand with you. sunscreen, food, first aid kit. 

‘what happened to, it’s time to come home?’ you interrupt his teasing. 

he sighs. the line crackles, weirdly high-pitched, as the kettle begins to make noise on his end. 

‘listen, ray. i miss you. i’m not gonna pretend that’s not true, or that i don’t worry about you all the time. and with all the shit that’s been going on lately… i want you nearby. but asim said, and i guess he might be right, that i’m being overprotective. and an ass.’

you’ve thought similar things about him before. twice, just this morning. but hearing him say it, voice warm and tired and a little ashamed, makes you want to take the first plane home and hug him until all the weird, unsettled, lonely parts of you find their place. like all it’ll take to fix everything is a hug from your big brother. but you know that isn’t true. knowing it makes you feel a little old and sad. resolute too, because you’re good here, better than you were. you made this place for yourself and you’re filling it with good, important things. 

that’s far too many feelings for four a.m. so you say, ‘say asim was right again,’ and marco laughs. and then, because he was open first, and that makes it easier to follow, to admit to your own missteps, mistakes, you say, ‘i think about it all the time. coming home, i mean. i love you guys, and i do miss you guys, and you’re right. it’s hard out here. but…i love it. my life, the beach.’ he laughs again at that, which is fair. you could have said one or the other; the beach is your life, after all. ‘hey marco, i gotta go. before the waves get tired.’

‘yeah. yeah, i get it. hey - talk later?’

‘yeah. anytime.’ 

‘love you. be safe out there.’

‘always am. love you too.’

//

beatrice is waiting on the sand when you finally get down there; she’s not looking for you, just watching the sun rise, and you’re going to call out to her when something changes—maybe some ephemeral thing, little more than a change in the quality of the light when you take a step closer; maybe the way she’s holding herself, one hand folded over her wrist where you’ve seen the black ink in the divot of her wrist, delicate letters small enough that you haven’t been able to read it when you’ve snuck a peek or two before. whatever it is, you decide to give her a second on her own. 

the sand is hot on the surface and cooler beneath. you shift your weight, dig your feet down until the sand covers the tops of your feet, just to give yourself something to do. and then you stare out over the ocean and breathe. 

it’s beautiful. it’s so fucking beautiful. you’ve known this was where you were gonna end up since you were eight years old and your cousin gabriel had pinned a photo of it to your wall—no one will ever consider it a masterwork of photography, that old blurred snapshot of sand and water and the sun, and just a tiny bit of his fingertip, no one but you because it had been his and he gave it to you, because he’d stood on the beach—maybe this beach, maybe right where you are now—and loved it so much he’d taken a photo of it and you’ve got the proof of it (proof of him, always) tucked into a book on your bedside. 

‘good morning.’

you drag your eyes away from the sunrise—super gorgeous, thin wispy clouds like cotton-candy, pink in the sunlight, striped across the distant horizon, and everything shimmering in what, logically, you know is the smog haze but for a second it can just be beautiful too—to find that beatrice has wandered up to join you. she’s watching you with the attentive curiosity you’ve come to expect—warmer than polite, cooler than inviting. 

‘hey, morning. sorry i’m late—got caught up talking to my brother.’

she nods her understanding. it has a thoughtful tilt to it, or maybe questioning. ‘does he live elsewhere in the world?’

‘excuse me?’

‘it’s early for a call. is he in another timezone?’

you don’t think she’s interrogating you, or she doesn’t mean to interrogate you. you actually think she’s trying to be nice and show interest, so you say, ‘well, he’s home—mexico—so… i think it’s an hour later for him. something like that. but he’s a get-up-and-go kinda guy—has been, ever since i took up surfing. he used to drive me to the water when i was a kid.’

‘older brother, then.’

‘only by a couple of years.’ you roll your eyes, ‘that’s all he needs to get up in my business.’

‘that’s what brothers are for. so i hear.’

‘true.’ you think about saying something more, because all you want to do right now is keep talking to her as long as possible, preferably forever, but that urge seems like a you problem, and something that’ll get washed away the second you dunk your head in the water. ‘okay! hey - mind taking this board and i’ll run back for the other one?’

when you return with your board, hauled down off the roof of your car, beatrice has set her sandals neatly beside her tote a few meters up from the tideline where it’ll all stay dry. you dump your bag right beside hers and jog to join her, check her out with a quick look. of the wetsuit, that is, that you had advised her to buy if surfing was something she wanted to keep doing. 

she crouches, wets her hands, and secures the leash of her board carefully around her ankle. 

‘good job!’ you compliment, because it’s four-something in the morning and, yeah, it’s your choice to get up this early but that doesn’t mean you’re firing on all cylinders yet. you want to say something impressive and kind and get her eyes on you because she’s pretty and interesting but, here’s the thing, most of the time you’re teaching children so the compliment comes out the way you would say it to little jayla (eight years old and nervous about everything and therefore, in your opinion, the bravest little soul in the world for keeping at it). 

beatrice looks over at you, amused, and you earn your third full smile from her. 

she’s laughing at you, definitely, which you don’t mind, have never minded when it comes to girls; years of report cards scrunched at the bottom of your bag, with comments amounting to smart enough but needs to spend more time listening and less time clowning around for the girls will back you up in that regard. your mami despaired of your grades and your attention (or lack of it) and she had chided you then, sat you down at the kitchen table opposite her as you made dinner together for the whole family, splitting the excess. she scolded—and pressed a ripped piece of bolillo into your hand to tide you over to dinner—she lamented—and passed over a bowl, diced tomatoes, crisp and red—and she talked to you about hard work and the importance of school and respect for your teachers and you know now that it was all love, that loud bright kitchen and how she made you handle it all together, space and work and life; you didn’t have the words to explain then—though you remember trying, loudly—that you knew, or thought, you were only really any good at two things, that most of the time you feel like you’re sleepwalking through your life and it’s only when you’re out there in the water, or making your friends laugh, that you feel totally real and vital and incredible. 

here, today, beatrice’s eyes are on you and you’ve made her smile (laugh, even). you feel invincible.

you laugh at yourself. run a hand through your hair. ‘you wouldn’t believe how many people put their wetsuits on backwards, or don’t bother with the leg rope, so. really, you’re doing great.’

she shrugs very slightly, cheeks gone a little pink under the compliment, or the sunrise, or maybe—a girl can dream—your singular attention. ‘thank you, then.’

‘sure,’ you say, and, ‘i can get your zip for you, if that’s okay? it’s not quite all the way up.’

‘thank you, yes.’ 

she turns away from you so you can fix it and you do, immediately and without lingering. she has freckles across her shoulders; the teeth of the zipper tug closed, swallow up the sight of them. you think, briefly, about kissing her there on the back of her neck, her shoulders, of taking a zip between your fingers and pulling it down. 

‘how does it feel? i know the wetsuits can be weird at first.’

‘it’s fine. i’ve worn stranger.’

you desperately want to ask for details but, aside from her first name, you don’t know anything much about her except that she wants to learn surfing, and probably the first time you ask for more information shouldn’t be about what she’s worn, even though your brain is filled with all kinds of theories. so instead you swallow back a flirty comment—also she is paying you to teach her, you remember abruptly, and maybe you should wait until after the lesson to flirt with her—and nod to the water. 

‘let’s hit it, then.’

the sand is golden, and the ocean is starting to turn gold under the sunlight, and you feel a bit golden too. you think idly, self-indulgent, you want heaven to be like this. a golden beach, with everyone you’ve ever loved on it with you. you take it in—a great start to the morning—and, smiling, run forward into the water.

/

she’s lighter, after surfing. 

in your first few lessons, you weren’t sure whether it would be like that for her. it’s not the physical part—she’s obviously fit and athletic enough to be good at surfing (you’ve noticed); there’s this…relaxation isn’t the right word, meditative is close but too dramatic for your tastes.

it’s like this. you paddle out to the calm, past the small waves that break close to the shoreline, and sit on your board and wait, legs dangling in the water, fingers drifting over the surface of it. maybe you sit in silence, maybe you chat with your buddy. and then you pick out a wave and then there’s this feeling when the wave swells and you catch it just right—you’re a little outside of yourself, entirely out of your head, and you experience it totally, trusting the wave to carry you and your body to move the way you’ve taught it to. you thought, when you first met her, that beatrice was too contained for that, every movement so precise, so controlled, intentional and intelligent and totally present, always watched, always watching herself. if there’s anyone who needs to get out of their head, you thought then and think now, it’s beatrice. 

and now. it’s only been four lessons, four days of knowing her split up over a couple weeks. you’re sitting on your board, legs in the water, cold spray in your face. august and siti—a couple of the regulars, friendly, you talk sometimes enough to say hello at the least, and lent august your sunscreen last week when they forgot to pack some even though it is not cheap—are a decent way further out. you see a good wave start to roll in and before you can say anything to beatrice, she’s already spotted it and moving. you stay where you are, watching as she catches it alone so you can check her form and you see it happen. she pops up smooth and rides it all the way in. a second later, you’re searching for a wave you can catch and wave at her to stay; you tumble off in the shallows, not your most graceful wave ever, and rush up to her. beatrice is smiling (four and a half, you think, totally brainless), big and so pleased, and you can’t help but grin back at her. 

‘you felt it!’ you call out—accuse, almost—when you’re close and she laughs. slicks her hair back off her face with a trembling hand. 

‘i - i think - yes, i did, yes.’ she’s breathing hard, from excitement you think—she’s caught waves before, bigger ones even, but this is different and you can tell. it’s entirely confirmed when she reaches out, clasps your wrist, and smiles—all for you. (five and a half.) ‘thank you, thank you.’

‘yes,’ you say, a little brainless, a little helpless. ‘of course.’

(fourteen years old, madly in love with sophie perez and madly heart-broken when you spotted her hand-in-hand with some scruffy-haired unfunny boy, your cousin gabriel had driven far across town to pick you up and, ignoring the impressive sulk you’d sunken into, packed you into his car and took you to the beach. he hadn’t spoken to you at all while you cried into his shoulder, his arm thin and strong around you, holding you tight, a tether, and when you roughly scrubbed the tears off your shame-hot face, he’d smacked your hands away and pulled a pack of tissues from his bag, cleaned you up carefully. nodded when he was done, approving. and then he stood and walked knee-deep into the water, not seeming to care that he was in jeans or that you’d have to get back into his car in wet clothes. 

love is like the ocean, he’d said. 

you remember rolling your sore eyes because at fourteen years old you already knew that love wasn’t the ocean. love was enjoying all the same music and turning up early to class to get the seat across from hers and the way your heart sped up when you passed her in the hall and staying up way too late dreaming of ways to make her laugh in class the next day. but gabriel was your favourite so you listened carefully, and you’re thankful for that now because you can remember so much. his dark curls, the smudge of his eyeshadow, how cold the water had been on your skin, how warm his arm had been around your shoulders.

not everyone loves her the same way. some people stay for a day and then head back to the mountains. he’d paused. mountains are, i dunno, a loveless marriage in this metaphor. you’d laughed at him. some people paint it, or make movies, but they never swim in it. some people sail out in their nice boats and go fishing. take what they want from her and head back to dry land. but for people like us? gabriel wore rings on his fingers and a shirt, tight, in a dusky kind of orange. love for us is like the ocean. we could drown in it and it wouldn’t be enough. he had a boyfriend in the city, and was beautiful and proud and kind, and you’d looked out over the calm sea and thought the world must be really different for him, vibrant and strange and wonderful. you felt special, nestled into his side. 

people like us, he’d said, and you remember because you remember everything about that afternoon, that in amongst his kindness, he’d sounded sad.)

you’re not fourteen anymore. you love the ocean more than you love anything else. when beatrice smiles at you, your heart swells, crashes, drags you under. you love her, too.

/

‘i love surfing,’ you tell her later, pleasantly tired. 

you trudge up toward the car park, stumble a little at the tide-mark where wet sand turns dry and gives way under your weight. you swear under your breath; every spare moment of your life has been spent at one beach or another, and you’d think that would earn some kind of loyalty perk, like, never tripping over your feet in front of cute girls, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. but beatrice only laughs, kindly, and puts a hand out to steady you and you don’t need it but you take it, of course. beatrice is slimmer than you, and a little taller, and far more graceful; you wonder if she’s ever tripped over anything in her life. her hand is cool from the water and calloused and scarred, which you didn’t entirely expect but makes a kind of sense in the collage you’re putting together in your head of what little scraps of information she’s given you.

beatrice takes her hand back; you keep your observations to yourself. 

‘you love surfing,’ she prompts. and then, ‘i’m starting to love it too, i think.’

‘it’s okay if you don’t, i won’t think less of you,’ you say, only lying a little bit, which you think she knows because she arches an eyebrow in your direction. you grin back. ‘of course i hope you do. but if you’re only coming to lessons for my many charms, i completely understand.’

‘is it hard? surfing, with such a large head?’ she snarks, unimpressed but eyes bright.

‘god never gives us more than we can handle,’ you say, absolutely facetious, absolutely cocky. she looks away. you put “doesn’t like jokes about god” in the collage of beatrice and move on. ‘you thanked me. earlier. you don’t need to. you’re paying me, first of all,’ you tease, ‘but. i love surfing for what it is, for myself, out there alone. i love every bit of it. but the teaching part… i didn’t expect to love that. it’s turned out to be so cool. getting to know all kinds of people, introduce them to surfing. and the water, too, sometimes. watching them fall in love with…’ 

you stop at the rocks and look behind you. the strip of sand, the greedy suck of the tide crawling higher up the beach, the shimmering green-glass sea.

‘with all of that.’

you think about being embarrassed about your tone—way too sincere, way too holy—but when you meet her eyes you see she understand this, too: that holy can be found outside the cathedral, that hymns can be the raucous gull shriek and wave crash and breath. 

‘getting to partake, and teach, and do what i love every day? honestly my genuine pleasure.’

the words bring something complicated to her face. sad? wistful? a little angry, definitely. her eyes return to the view; you stay looking at her, not keen to lose whatever she might say to the crash and hiss of the waves. 

‘i wish…’ she holds herself still. she’s lost the lightness surfing brought her; you don’t know if it’s your fault, you hope it isn’t, or if it was never going to last very long for her. ‘i wish i had that.’

if you were thinking about it properly, you don’t know beatrice or her situation well enough to give advice. but you like her, and you want to be able to help, and you get the impossibly strong (if slightly uncertain) vibe of queerness absolutely radiating off her and that you understand. plus, surfing makes you brave—a little stupid in that invincible way, like nothing can hurt you, like nothing can truly go wrong, like anything that does go wrong can be fixed—so, picking up your board again, you head off toward your car once more and she follows. 

as you walk, you say, ‘i think you can have it. i think you can make it. joy, passions, a life you want to live… that doesn’t fall out of the sky, you know?’ she flinches at that but you keep going, since you already dove in. ‘most of the time, you have to work for it. all of the time, it’s about making decisions and figuring out what’s important. figuring out who you are—how you feel, how you want to exist, what you want to do. and then you have to find your way there.’ scraping your fingers through your hair, pushing it back out of your eyes, you take a second to think. ‘once you know the life you want to have, you can go out and get it. a little at a time.’

she stops where the sand hits concrete, which you get. the beach feels worlds away from reality, sometimes, and you get wanting to stay there as long as possible. everything seems smaller, compared to the ocean. more manageable. you stand there with her.

‘what if what i want is impossible?’

‘…damn. great question. i don’t know. set yourself an easier goal?’ that startles her, and for a moment you think it would have been better to be gentle or sincere but then she laughs, louder than before. god, you think, thank you for letting me meet her. thank you for letting me make her laugh. ‘i don’t always turn into a life coach and give unasked for advice after surfing, i swear. it costs ten bucks more for that package, if you want to spring for that next time, but hey, first one for free.’

‘perhaps i will. you seem to have all the answers.’

‘maybe not all of them but yeah, i know some stuff.’ you let sincerity bleed through, here, because you joke around but there’s something serious and seriously healing about being with other people, being able to be open and honest with them, and you can be that for beatrice, if she wants. 

‘what about you?’

‘what about me?’

‘you made the decision to come here,’ beatrice says, with that faintly accusing, faintly interrogative tone she gets. ‘why?’ 

ah. here is what your invincibility gets you—the sting of salt in your eyes; a heavy pressure against your head, your ears, like you’ve dunked you head beneath the waves and all you can hear is the slam of your pulse; and that feeling—one that doesn’t hit so often anymore—that you are just one little creature treading water at the top of the vast ocean, alone, with no one around to help you out. 

it only lasts for a few seconds. 

you’ve talked to people, on and off, for a few years. and you know how to ground yourself in the here and now—the heat of the sand, the sun on your shoulders, your hair drying into careless waves and curling a little around your ears, tickling your jaw, the taste of salt and lip balm when you lick your lips, the click of your wrist when you flex it. 

you step off the sand and into the parking lot, toward your car. for a minute, you work in silence getting your board up onto the rack; the work helps but the collar of your wetsuit is soaked and heavy, tight around your throat. when you turn back to help beatrice with her board, you grab for the zipper and tug it down an inch, let it slacken so you can breathe better. 

it has been a long enough delay in answering her that she’s starting to make assumptions, observations of her own. she also has the faintly horrified look of someone who has stepped in something gross—dog shit, or, in this case, brought up a more deeply personal conversation than she was prepared for—and looks like she’s searching desperately for a way to change the subject. but it was a direct question, an honest one and not unfair, not one you’re unhappy answering, so you say, 

‘when i say you make decisions, choices…things happen to us in life and we can’t control that shit. but you get to decide what to do after that. something… something kinda rough happened in my life.’ you look at her, and think of a grief so profound that you have to wear it on your skin. you flex your hands, and look down at the tattoo on her wrist that you still haven’t taken the time to examine, not visible under the sleeve of her wetsuit. ‘my cousin died,’ you tell her. ‘he was really important to me. and after that, i chose to come here. left my hometown, my family, and started again. i’d wanted to do it for ages and i guess i realised this was the only life i was gonna get. so here i am. and that,’ you say, tone much lighter, ‘is all you’re getting out of me this morning. you know how it goes—just a little of a great thing at a time. can’t risk you getting sick of me, can i?’ 

beatrice looks at you for a long moment, fingers resting on her wrist. eventually, she shakes her head, passes over her board. ‘i’m not sick of you.’’

‘oh yeah?’ you hoist up the board and fix it in place. when you look back over your shoulder, you mean to say something teasing but lose your head because she’s looking at you—your back, your arms. you flex a little more than you need to and her eyes dart to your muscles, your wrists, and linger on your tattooed hands. 

she turns away with pink cheeks you’re certain isn’t the sun’s fault. clasps her hands behind her back. 

‘thank you,’ she says, sincerely. ‘for sharing that with me.’

‘sure, of course.’ it’s not really an of course. you can count on two hands the number of people you would talk to about gabriel. but it’s an of course for her. you don’t think too hard about it. 

‘and for the lessons.’

that makes you laugh. ‘the ones you are paying for? you’re welcome.’  it’s kind of obvious at this point that she’s just looking for things to say, to hang out a little longer, and you take pity on her. and also, you want to spend more time with her too so, hey, works out perfectly. ‘if you’re not busy, if you don’t have to run off, maybe we can talk some more? i don’t have to be anywhere for a while and there’s this place down the road—a few minutes that way, walking distance, easy. decent coffee, great view. we could get coffee. breakfast, even.’

beatrice turns super slowly and stiffly to look in the direction you point. it’s a long, long moment before she looks at you.

‘as a date?’

‘hopefully, yeah.’

‘oh.’ her eyes dart around the mostly empty parking lot—it can’t be later than six, if that—and suddenly contained seems a little more like hidden. ‘I’m—that’s kind of you—’ she swallows. sets her shoulders, her jaw, and meets your eyes. ‘i have a partner.’

‘that makes sense.’ you wonder, briefly, what her partner is like. you hope they’re stoic and serious as beatrice is, because if they’re hot and funny like you it’ll be vaguely devastating. maybe you’ll get to meet them. ‘as friends, then.’ beatrice hesitates. ‘would your partner be cool with that?’

beatrice smiles again, one of those not-for-you smiles. you think again, more fervently, that you’d like to meet her partner—they must be something seriously special to have captured beatrice’s attention, first of all, but to get her to smile like that… 

‘she’d be delighted, actually.’ she touches her wrist and nods. ‘yes. thank you. i - we - can do that. get coffee.’

she makes it sound revolutionary, like she’s never had coffee before, which you know is not the case because you’d mentioned, offhand, that if one more goddamn politician or bank twitter account advised people to save money and make coffee at home you were gonna lose it, and she’d agreed that she preferred homemade tea and store-bought coffee, and mentioned an article she’d read on how coffee was produced and how it worked, which she though was “quite interesting” and when she forwarded it to your e-mail it wasn’t a think piece like you’d been expecting but rather a fourteen page research article, peer-reviewed, on the social aspects of caffeine consumption, or something like that. there’s genuine nerves in her rigid posture, and you think of how revolutionary, world-changing, bold, fucking terrifying and a little bloody it’s been to get here, where you’re standing now. 

‘cool. if you’ve got time after, there’s this surf shop—it’s a bit of a hike but,’ you flick your eyes to the cloudless blue sky overhead. ‘nice day for it. we can look at a couple of boards for you. i’m happy to go with you, help you find something good. borrowing a board is fine while you’re learning but it’ll be easier and feel better when you’ve got one that’s properly suited to you.’

she nods seriously, the way she always does when you talk about surfing, student to teacher. ‘i - would like that.’ 

‘yeah? awesome, alright!’ 

//

the cafe is a decent size and decently popular, which normally makes it hard to get a seat sometimes but today is a day of miracles and a couple is clearing out right as you get in, freeing up a table in the laneway. it’s in a good spot, shaded by one of the wide umbrellas and not in the way of the servers, so you sit sideways in your chair and happily stretch out your legs, pluck off your sunglasses and hang them off the collar of your t-shirt. opposite, beatrice tucks herself into her seat prim and proper, no surprises there; what does surprise you is how still she sits and how, even though you know that she agreed—wants—to be here, it’s like she’s trying to go invisible. 

the server who brings out your drinks is young and harried, doesn’t even pause when you thank him. you’d ordered an espresso, and beatrice had asked for the same, but now she’s staring down at it doubtfully.

‘did you want something else?’

she shakes her head no. ‘i’d like to try it. this is your preferred coffee?’

‘my abuelo makes the meanest espresso you’ve ever had. this is water in comparison.’

‘oh.’

‘but it’s a nice place and i like the beans they use here. i really should ask what their blend is one of these days but,’ you shrug. ‘i don’t have a machine at home so what’s the point, right?’

she nods. picks up the little cup and sips at it. immediately, her nose wrinkles and her lips twist and her perfect posture breaks for a second as she bodily fights the urge to say, presumably, judging by her grimace, ‘yuck!’ she lowers it but doesn’t set it down, like it would be impolite to abandon it immediately, and watches with the tiniest grimace as you drink it happily. 

‘not for you?’

‘at risk of sounding like a stereotype, i am more of a tea drinker. this is…rather a powerful taste.’ she looks a little guilty setting it back down. ‘do you mind if i order something else?’

‘no, course not. but i might judge you on what you get,’ you tease, grinning, and she just rolls her eyes, nods. you split your attention between enjoying the morning and watching the line creep forward until she’s at the register, shake your head when she folds another note into the tip jar. 

she comes back to the table with another coffee—an oatmilk latte, with lavender of all things—and, as promised, you tease her gently about it.

‘really settling in, aren’t you? very LA of you,’ you say, and pretend to gag. ‘lavender. gross.’

beatrice smiles over the lip of her cup, shakes her head. ‘your favourite drink tastes like battery acid, i don’t think your opinion counts.’

‘ouch.’ 

‘you mentioned your abuelo,’ she says. ‘do you have much family?’

talking about family is easy, even if beatrice does make it a little of an interrogation—she gets everyone’s names and ages, nodding with this intense look in her eyes like she’s filing it away somewhere in her brain, like if you never spoke again and ran into each other in ten years she would still remember. you don’t have anything to hide, happy to tell her: yes, you’ve been here a while, a little over five years; surfing has always been your favourite thing to do; no, it’s not your only job, you have a very boring desk job but the boring bits are compensated by the fact that you get to work from home and your boss is kind of amazing about letting you take your afternoon run down to the beach and back; yes, you’re queer, you’ve known forever and so has your family, and yes they’re fine with it, very supportive, and they love you the same as they always did after you came out. 

‘barely needed to, really. my mami said she knew since i was like ten, eleven, maybe. all because i followed my tennis coach around like a duckling, which makes sense because i can’t think of why else i would play tennis, it fucking sucks.’ beatrice sips guardedly at her coffee, looking away, and it’s so carefully inoffensive that you have to laugh. ‘tell me you don’t love tennis, beatrice, please.’

she shrugs carefully. ‘i’ve enjoyed it in the past. both playing and spectating.’

you groan. ‘no, beatrice! christ.’

‘it’s an olympic sport—‘

‘it’s dead boring,’ you insist.

beatrice frowns at you, considering. ‘you’re bad at it,’ she announces after a moment, very confident. ‘if you were better at it, perhaps you’d enjoy it more.’ you laugh, shrug a little, because she’s hit the nail on the head. she continues, ‘to its credit, tennis has serena williams, the most incredible athlete—‘

‘messi.’

‘team sport,’ she counters, and you cede the point with a nod.

‘certainly she’s the greatest tennis player of all time—‘

‘oh undoubtedly.’

‘—and it’s also one of the only sports that pays men and women equal prize money, and has mixed competitions.’

‘great points,’ you allow. ‘and yet, somehow it’s still fucking boring.’ beatrice fully scowls, shaking her head, and you have to ask, ‘are you rethinking being friends with me?’ 

she relents after a moment. sets down her drink with a sigh. ‘we can be friends,’ she tells you after a moment. ‘so long as we’re on the same page regarding serena williams.’

‘i’d love to regard serena williams.’

‘you should watch tennis, then,’ beatrice tells you bluntly, and smiles, pleased, when you laugh hard at that.

‘okay. you know everything about me now so what about you?’

‘what about me?’

you push a hand through your hair, ruffle it; her eyes follow the movement, your hands, and then she stares down at her coffee. ‘how long have you been in LA?’ 

‘a month. perhaps a little less.’

‘and you came here because…?’ when she hesitates, you say, ‘wait, wait, let me guess—you’re going to be in movies, right?’ she laughs like that’s ridiculous—even if one in five people you meet here is an aspiring actor, and none of them as compelling or, honestly, attractive as beatrice is—and relaxes. ‘ok, not movies. tv?’

‘no, i’m not here to act. i’m here to…’ she picks up a knife off the table, turns the cutlery smoothly between her fingers. ‘settle, i suppose. i’ve been travelling for some time.’

‘oh yeah? where to?’ 

it takes a little nudging for her to get going but when she does, she speaks very sincerely of the world, of its people and religions, of sights natural and man-made. she’s light on details but you can tell that the travel was important and life-changing, which you sort of understand. you haven’t been many places but every town away from where you grew up felt like a whole new world, like freedom, and you can only imagine that beatrice’s travelling was like that but no doubt on a far grander scale. 

‘and your partner? what are they like?’ you ask, and immediately know that you’ve fucked up, because beatrice looks abruptly striken. ‘sorry, i -‘

‘no. it’s fine. she - ‘ a little of the horror in her fades the moment she says she, like even the thought of her partner is enough to soothe, but most of it stays. she picks up one of the paper napkins, twists it harshly between her fingers. ‘she’s sick.’

sick, she says, voice thick, unsteady. it occurs to you that she’s lying, trying to soften the blow or maybe deny it to herself again, but beatrice doesn’t seem like a liar. you choose to believe her. this is what it was, you realise. the source of that grief you’d felt, seen, ever since you first met her. you recognise the grief in her eyes—loss, fear, confusion too, like she doesn’t know quite what to do with herself. you remember that. the fog, the ache, when he was gone like an organ removed and your life having to close and heal around the lack. trying to find something that filled in that empty space, or fit enough that it didn’t hurt so much. 

love for us is like the ocean. that’s true for you, then and now. you don’t think it’s the same for beatrice. 

there’s love in every part of her—the joy and the waiting, the grief and the hurting—and there’s a cross around her neck that drags low, heavy, and there are words on her wrist that stand out stark against her skin and you think for beatrice love is like religion, holy, dedicated, faithful. you’re terrified that she’s waiting for a miracle that will never come; you hope, of course you hope and will pray for it tonight, that she gets it.

it’s also far too much to consider on a weekday before coffee, and you’ve already planned to keep her in your life in whatever capacity you can, so. you can talk about it later. 

‘oh. that’s -’ beatrice looks like if you say another word she’s gonna bolt; if she does, you’re not sure that she’ll come to her next lesson, even if she has already paid for it. instead of condolences or well wishes, you say, ‘do you wanna hear about the time i hopped a fence and ripped my pants? right in the butt.’

she wasn’t expecting that in the slightest, obviously. a small smile curls her lips upwards and she resettles, looking dramatically less like she’s going to flee. ‘yes. that sounds very amusing.’

‘it’s funny now, sure, but back then? first of all, i got teased a lot. and second, it fucking stung,’ you bemoan, grinning when she looks a little unsure of whether this was, like, the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. she relaxes a little more and you thank god and your parents and brother that you get to be the person you are, someone who can make other people laugh. that’s not a bad life–surfing at the beach, a boring job, and making your friends laugh? not bad at all. 

‘sounds like a pain in the ass.’ beatrice says, looking very pleased with her joke when it makes you groan, which is a lot better than her looking devastated. ‘what happened?’

‘usual idiot kid stuff. playing footy with my brother, kicked the ball over the neighbours fence. i thought i could jump it, get it back for us, and i did. mostly,’ you add after a tiny pause. then, slyly, you say, ‘the only reason i didn’t rip my boxers and my pants is because i was going commando.’

‘no.’ 

‘better a cut up my ass than ruining my good boxers,’ you wink, and beatrice laughs.

it’s just as easy as that to turn the conversation to lighter topics. she knows what you’re doing—you can tell, because her smile is occasionally too grateful than is deserved for just a chat over coffee—but she allows you to do it, and all too soon it’s been an hour and she’s buying you a second coffee, takeaway this time, and tipping, like, two hundred per cent with the most pristine notes you’ve ever seen tucked away in this slim handsome wallet, and you’re walking lazily, slowly back the way you’d come toward the beach. it’s not really a surprise that she declines the offer of heading to the surf shop—she still seems a bit unsteady after the mention of her partner—and you’re a little worried that she’ll disappear from your life now so you slow your pace when you see your car, twirl your keys around your finger. 

‘what is it, ray?’ she asks, a touch cautious but mostly good-natured, curious. 

‘busted. i was just thinking… you have a partner—major bummer, by the way,’ you tease, which is a fucking risk, but she manages a tiny smile. ‘mostly for you, because i was gonna ask you out and it would’ve been a good time, i know all the coolest places in LA.’ her cheeks go a little pink but she’s still smiling, so, ‘so despite being heart-broken, i’m going to this party tomorrow night. just a small thing, house party with a bunch of folks i go surfing with. you’ll probably meet most of them, if you keep up the dawn patrol, but it might be nice to get to know them out of the water. y’know, wearing clothes.’ much more seriously, much more sincerely, you tell her, ‘it’s absolutely cool if you want to be with your partner, or if you’re not going out much, but i wanted to invite you anyway. i think you’d enjoy it. very casual scene—music, some beers, a disproportionate amount of queer folk. plus, i’ll be there looking hot, that’s always a plus. you can be my wingwoman!’

beatrice frowns, considering her words carefully. ‘my partner is… she’s in a speciality hospital so i don’t get to visit her. i - promised her i would have some fun,’ she tells you, fingers brushing against her wrist. in this life, you’ve managed to read now, sitting opposite her for an hour in the morning sunlight, drinking coffee that almost tastes like home, sitting in a body and a life that entirely feels at home, and you look across at beatrice and see someone who is almost there. almost certain, almost sure, almost happy. ‘yes,’ she says, after taking a bolstering breath. brave, you think, with sudden fondness, protective. it comes to you, a splinter of a memory, being afraid of the ocean; gabriel plunging in ahead of you with such joy that you forgot. ‘yes,’ she says again, ‘i’d love to come to the party.’

‘amazing!’ 

‘and, while i find it difficult to imagine you would have a problem finding people to go on dates with you, yes, i will be your…wingwoman, if you require it. what is the dress code?’

‘too hot for leather, unfortunately,’ you tease, and have the extreme delight of watching beatrice stumble over literally nothing, ears going pink. so, so valiantly you manage to not comment on it. instead, you say, ‘wear whatever makes you feel good and happy. hot, if you want to feel hot. that’s always the rule.’

‘you get to decide what you do.’ it takes you a second to place her words—they’re your words, from this morning, which makes you smile because she’s quoting you, very seriously and kindly like that actually helped her, maybe. ‘i do best with rules, or a guideline,’ she mutters, but sets her shoulders and nods, decisive. ‘i’ll find something to wear. you have my number.’

‘from your form, i do, yeah. it’s cool if i text you?’

‘yes.’

‘alright. awesome, i’ll pin the address for you.’

‘good.’ 

beatrice walks you all the way to your car, shakes your hand like you’ve just concluded a job interview, and then continues on quickly. she’s got a white-knuckle grip on the handle of her tote bag and walks away with this quick, neat stride that makes you feel self-conscious about your own walk, like maybe you’ve been doing it wrong for your whole life. more importantly, there’s about a thirty per cent change that beatrice will actually turn up at this party but you’ve hoped for things with worse odds that were way less important to you than this, so you easily, recklessly hope that she’ll turn up. 

//

the likelihood of beatrice actually showing up is still low, you remind yourself, even though she had texted this morning to accept and had thanked you very sincerely - and formally - for the invitation. the uber drops you off on the corner where you had agreed to meet and you hop out, saying a cheerful goodbye to your driver, rajeev, who had taken one look at you and nodded and switched his playlist to something titled GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS which…accurate. he totally earned his five stars and you’re clicking through to leave a quick review—clean car, GREAT music—when beatrice calls your name. 

‘hey! you came!’

beatrice strides up the street to join you. the timing of her arrival three seconds after yours is odd enough that, for a second, you wonder if she’s been waiting and for how long. then, you get distracted by beatrice in her gay ass outfit—lightwash jeans, loose, that fall to her ankles; a soft-looking crewneck, blue; and birkenstocks that are either brand new or excruciatingly well-cared for, with not a speck of dirt on the white sandals—and realise you’ve made a huge mistake. there’s no way beatrice can be your wingwoman. every queer woman in this house will flock to her and her damn british accent and her freckles and her polite, comfortable, slightly masculine air, and the way she looks at everyone like they’re important. god. beatrice is devastating at four in the morning in a wetsuit, hair slicked back with ocean water; she’s devastating now, with the sleeves of her crew folded just once, precisely, enough to show off the dip of her wrists, and her hair pinned up in a pristine bun. 

she stops mid-step, looks you up and down, and you stop calling yourself an idiot long enough to preen. with beatrice coming tonight, you felt like getting a little dressy and picked everything with slightly more care, ending up in a satin-type top you’ve tucked into high-waisted pants. it drapes open rather handsomely almost to your belly button—you’ve only done up half the buttons tonight, because you believe sincerely in being god’s gift to women and it’s your duty to parade around with a little skin showing, enough to tantalize. maybe a little slutty, just for fun. you’ve got a few chains hanging around your neck, and some rings on your fingers. 

‘oh, i am gay,’ beatrice mutters when she gets a good look at you. ‘sorry - that’s,’

you wave off her apology or whatever she’s going to say, because a compliment is a compliment and that is a damn good compliment, especially coming from her. 

‘delighted to be of service, honestly. any time you need reminding.’ you stroll over to greet her properly—not a hug, but an obvious once over, so she can see how much you approve of her look too, and then a tap to her elbow in hello—and she examines you a second time, looking marginally less embarrassed to get caught. this time, her eyes linger on your necklaces; no, your cross. 

‘catholic?’ 

‘born and raised. you?’ 

she only nods, lips pursed. glancing around, she says, ‘the party is around here?’

‘yeah. oh, yeah, it’s on this street. one minute walk, maybe two.’ she looks a little confused and you admit, ‘i wasn’t sure if you actually wanted to come. i wanted to meet up with you first, make sure you were comfortable.’

rather than being offended, beatrice relaxes. ‘that’s kind of you.’

‘well, i want you to have fun. it will be fun,’ you insist, and start in the direction of luis’s place. ‘i’ll take care of you tonight, i promise—you can drink, if you want, or smoke. no pressure. i’ll stay sober anyway. but what i really want is to introduce you to my friends, i really think you’ll like them.’

‘because we’re all queer?’ beatrice guesses, a note of something odd in her tone. it’s not suspicion, but something akin to it. 

‘yeah, sure. i know what it’s like moving to a new place and not knowing anyone, it’s rough. especially for us,’ you say, light on the emphasis but apparent enough that beatrice looks at you again, and nods to herself. ‘but aside from being queer, i just really think you’ll like them. luis is the one hosting tonight. they’re super smart, they’re finishing a phd in anthropology, movement in borderlands—oh, and they will offer you weed every half hour but that’s not you, and you don’t have to accept, it’s just their idea of hospitality.’ beatrice nods very solemnly. you can practically hear the information being locked away in her brain and the image makes you smile. ‘it’s this one, up ahead.’

as promised, the party is pretty chill—low lights, not too packed, good music. it’s a really nice night and there are a few folk standing around on the porch, drinks in hand; when you get in, you’ll probably find most of the guests have spilled out into the back yard. plus, you’re only a few streets back from the beach—based on the last few parties luis has hosted, the beach is where you’ll end up in a few hours. 

beatrice stops outside the house, stares in through the open door. she touches two fingers to her wrist. you stand with her, beside her, and part of you aches because you know that there is someone else who should be here, who she wants very badly to be here, and it seems terribly unfair that something this simple - a party, new friends, the distant sound of the ocean - isn't simple at all.

‘all good?’

‘thank you,’ she says, softly. ‘for inviting me. and don’t say you need a wingwoman because i sincerely doubt that.’

you grin. run a hand through your hair in a way that makes you look particularly douchey, according to your ex. ‘thanks. i appreciate that. and no, i don’t need a wingwoman but it can’t hurt... except if the girls hear that accent, actually,’ you say with a thoughtful frown, like it’s only occurring to you now that beatrice is hot. you step in front of her like you’re blocking her way to the house, even as you back up toward the house, the party. ‘this is bad, i’ve made a huge mistake, you gotta go,' you insist, teasingly.

beatrice laughs and follows you in.

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

All My Love For You (Arthur Harrow x Reader)

Requested by Anonymous-Hiii there! I really enjoy all your stuff and I literally am in love with your writing!

If it’s not too much to ask, may I request for Arthur Harrow x reader fic where the reader is in love with Arthur but she doesn’t think he feels the same? Like unrequited love but in secret Arthur likes her too? Angst/fluff or hurt/comfort would be amazing!

A/N-Finally, another request finished and ready. Again, I felt I’ve gone overboard with this, but hey at least it’s finished. Anon, I hope you enjoy this after waiting over a year for this to be done.

Requests have been opened back up for two weeks. If anybody still wants to make a request, please send it through my inbox or DM (Direct Message) so that I can get started on it :). Lists are down below for better navigation.

Also, on my last fanfic request post, I’ve noticed people commenting down below to be tagged in the next part of it. If anybody wants to be tagged in the next fanfic request or one of my own, please do so, it’ll help me out more when I post…

List of Characters IV

Underworld Requests

Good Omens

Warnings: Major angst, some language, fear of loneliness, not being loved back, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of past abuse, and tons and tons of fluff at the end 

Citrus Scale: 🍎

W.C+: 4.4K

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Love. That’s the only thing you feel for your master and mentor Arthur Harrow. It felt like a stupid high school type crush, but for you it feels more serious than that.

In the past, you’ve had many abused relationships with other men and how they abused your love for them. After your last relationship ended very badly, you’ve had enough and left without turning back. The only thing you took with you was your backpack with only clothes and some money you’ve saved up.

As you walked alone down the streets at the dead of night, you cried your eyes out with your heart aching with complete heartbreak. Your soft sobs echoed through the abandoned alleyways of the buildings you’ve passed by.

Your cries were heard, as a mysterious man came out of the shadows of one of the buildings. He was quite shocked to see you at this time of night. That’s when he noticed your tear ridden face, glistening beneath the street lights. Whatever you’ve been through, he invited you to come inside with him.

With everything you’ve been through and nothing else left in your life, you took up his offer and went inside with him.

Taking you in by your hand, he guided you into the building and took you into a private area for you to rest.

After a few hours of rest and some warm food inside of your stomach, he asked you why you were walking all alone on the streets in the dead of night. Soon after you broke down and told him everything that happened. 

He listened carefully to you as you told him about your past relationships and how they abused the love you’d given them. After your last relationship ended on a sour note, you’ve had enough and left that sorry asshole behind. You sobbed and sobbed with your hands covering your tear ridden face, feeling like total shit as you told all of this to a complete stranger you just met.

But he sat there, listening to you talk about what you’ve gone through and how horrible you were treated. Rubbing his hand up and down your back, comforting you in a way.

He felt so bad for you, watching you cry. Sorrow filled his blue eyes and felt his heart grow heavy with it too. With no other place to go to turn to, he offered you a place within his community to stay and heal from your past.

You were forever grateful for his offer and for himself. You had a place to stay and to call it home. You felt safe now.

That was a few years ago. You’ve been living happily inside of the community ever since and never looked back. Feeling more safe in this new environment and connecting with the other members of the community as well. 

Over the past few years you lived here, you’ve became more closer towards Arthur. Teaching and mentoring you through his guidance. How his soft voice puts you into a trance of sorts whenever he speaks to you.

The time you spent with Arthur, the more he understood of what you’ve went through. How each time his heart grew heavier and heavier of sorrow, when you talked about your past partners and how they never loved you in return.

He’s always there for you. Checking up during the day and night to see if you're comfortable, seeing each other during meal time, and spending quality time with just the two of you. 

With all this quality time spent with Arthur, you’ve grown much closer to him in the past three years. From holding hands to embracing one another under the moonlight, you never realized what was happening right before your eyes. You were falling in love again.

But how? After your last relationship, you swore to yourself not to fall in love ever again. You didn’t want to start all over again. Didn’t want your heart broken. It felt like a never ending cycle for you and it haunted you deeply.

The very thought of it scared you each minute you spent with him. It felt like you were sick, but you were fine. 

Any time you were with Arthur, the pit of your stomach grew more and more wider as your love for him took over your mind. You didn’t mean to fall in love again, but you couldn’t let go of the feeling.

It felt like Cupid shot you with one of his arrows and can’t take it out. That arrow will be forever stuck inside of your chest. Your heart fluttered like a little caged bird every time you saw Arthur or spent time with him. 

The more it grew, the more you loved him. But you never told him. You became afraid of what’ll Arthur would say or think if you say ‘I love you’ to him. That he’ll never love you back and leave you. That’s the thing you feared the most in any relationship. Having somebody leave you.

That’s the very thing you didn’t want happening to you at all. So you kept it to yourself and never said anything about your feelings towards Arthur. Keeping it a secret meant that you’ll never tell him and he’ll never find out about the whole thing either.

You kept your feelings a secret for a few weeks, until one night they were uncovered.

It was a quiet night in the community. A gentle, cool wind blew through the leaves and branches of the trees outside of the walls. Sweeping through the dining hall and into the other areas of the community.

You zipped up your jacket to your neck as the cool breeze passed through where you were sitting in the dining hall. After shivering a bit, you went back to eating the hot, lentil soup that sat in front of you on the table. 

Half of the community members were gathered around one another for tonight’s meal. All of them were talking and laughing over what they were up to or what they did from today. They were all happy, not caring about anything at all. You wish it was the same for yourself.

Your (E/C) eyes scanned through the dining hall to see if Arthur was anywhere. It was really hard to tell through the large crowd of community members.

After looking around for a few moments, you went back to eating. Taking in another spoonful of the lentil soup, you felt the semi hot liquid swirl around your tongue and trickle down your throat slowly.

It felt really nice to have a warm meal each day and a cozy bed to sleep in, but that wouldn’t have happened without Arthur. He gave you a place to stay and food to eat. He also didn’t give up on you either. 

Standing by your side almost every day, as you slowly got over your heartbreak. He never left you alone, until you got better. 

Arthur treated you much differently than the other members of the community. In a way, it made you feel special in his eyes.

After a couple of weeks of staying here, you started to warm up to your new surroundings. The members of the community were very nice to you and accepted you as one of their own. You became a part of their family in a way.

For the past few years of calling this place home, you felt something pull yourself towards Arthur. At first you thought you were sick, but you were completely fine. This also happened on other occasions whenever you were around him too.

There were instances when Arthur spoke to you with his soft voice, your whole face felt hot and glowed red. You didn��t even know that was happening at all and it felt like your heart was ready to explode from it too.

Other times you felt your heart beating faster than it should. The blood rushing up to your face so quickly you almost fainted several times. Your heart felt like a caged bird ready to burst out of your chest.

There were a number of other things like Arthur’s hand slightly brushing up against yours, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, letting you sit next to him at meal times, and spending time alone with just you.

At first you thought it was Arthur treating you differently after what you’ve been through before coming to the community.

 You missed the signs so many times, not even realizing until it was too late. Never realizing that you’ve fallen in love with Arthur.

Ever since, you’ve been trying to avoid the topic and avoid Arthur at all costs. 

You felt defeated in a way. Mostly defenseless against your own feelings overcoming you and your whole mind. Lately, you’ve been overthinking about this whole situation. What would Arthur say and how would he react to you saying you love him?

The awful dread filled both your mind and heart like a large black hole swallowing you whole. Arthur hating and leaving you for loving him haunted you all over the place in your mind. The very last thing you ever wanted to happen was to be alone and heartbroken forever. Still, you don’t really know how to deal with the whole situation that’s causing you pain and torment mentally.

As you continued to eat another spoonful of lentil soup, a hand suddenly came out of nowhere and gently gripped your shoulder. “Aw there you are my dear. I’ve been looking all over the place for you,” a familiar voice followed. Taking the spoon out of your mouth and swallowing the soupy liquid down your throat, you looked over your shoulder to see it was just Arthur.

Arthur looked peaceful tonight. He always is. Standing over your shoulder like a calm shadow. Both of his hands gripped the two handles of his cane, as he slightly leaned over. Several silver strands of his grayish brown hair blew across his pale skin when another gust of wind came through. 

His blue eyes looked upon your surprised face after startling you. He could tell you were quite surprised and somewhat uncomfortable when he touched you. That was soon replaced with a smile on his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry my dear have I startled you?” He asked as he pulled a chair up to sit next to you. You shook your head a bit. “Not a bit Arthur.” You said with a smile and took another spoonful.

He chuckled a bit, “That’s very good to hear. How’s your lentil soup?” 

“Good as always Arthur,” you said after removing the spoon from your lips and placing it back into the halfway done soup bowl. You then grabbed the cloth napkin from your lap and used one of the edges to wipe your mouth off.

“Another good thing to hear,” he chuckled more at your response, “good thing to have on a night like this.” You nodded in response. Another small gust of wind came through, making you both shiver at the same time.

Arthur had on his beige jacket like he always does at night. Even though you had your jacket zipped up to your neck, you still felt cold from the breeze coming through.

You picked the spoon back up and dipped it into the bowl again. “(Y/N) I like to ask you something,” he said as he watched you put another spoonful in. It was usual for Arthur to ask you questions about certain things, as long you know what he’s talking about. You nodded your head in response as a yes, what is it.

“Have you been feeling ill of late? You’re not your usual self when you’re around me.” You felt your heart skip a beat or two when he asked THAT question. The one you’ve been dreading he’ll ask you about what’s been going on with you lately.

You shook your head. “No, I’m perfectly fine Arthur. Why do you ask?” You asked after taking the spoon out and placed it onto the table next to the wooden bowl.

Arthur shifted a bit in his seat and darted his eyes away from you, as he looked around the community dining room for a bit and then came back to look at you.

“You’ve been acting quite strangely the past couple months, I’ve grown very worried for you. It’s like you’ve been distancing yourself from me. Did I do something wrong or has something been bothering you lately,” his voice sounded a bit hurt.

Shit. He’s starting to notice. I need to put a stop to this now or else. I don’t want to start this fucking cycle all over again, your thoughts took over your mind. This can’t go on forever. You have to tell him. Tonight, but not here. There’s too many eyes and ears all over the place. You have to make your move now or it’ll be too late.

“Yes Arthur,” you finally say, “something has been bothering me. The reason I haven’t been around you much, is because I didn’t want to worry you about it. I didn’t know how to talk about it either.” You turned your head away a bit and closed your eyes.

“I see,” he said as he let out a heavy sigh. You opened your eyes back up and turned your head towards him again.

He was turned away from you, but his head snapped back towards you. It was like he was waiting for you to look back at him.

“Not that I’m mad about it at all my dear (Y/N). I understand that you’ve kept this issue from me. You wanted to spare my feelings from what you’re dealing with.” He sounded so calm, but sounded wounded in his voice.

“Whatever it is (Y/N). I want to know what you’re going through. You can’t keep me in the dark if you continue doing this to me. I’m still your friend here. I don’t want you to deal with this on your own. This issue you’re dealing with won’t let up if you just talk to me about it.”

Arthur has a point there. You can’t keep this up anymore. Arthur deserves the truth. The truth that you love him.

You turned away for a bit and looked through the dining hall, making sure nobody near you was listening. Then you turned back to Arthur.

“Alright Arthur, I’ll talk about what’s been on my mind,” you then leaned in closer towards him, “but not here. I want to talk about it privately. There’s too many eyes and ears around us.”

Arthur nodded in agreement with you, “alright. Perhaps after dinner then. It’ll be much quieter for us to talk. How does that sound?” You smiled a bit at him as you nodded in agreement.

“After dinner sounds good to me Arthur. It’ll help me more with my thoughts,” you said as you felt your face heat up a bit.

“Let’s talk about in my living area. It’ll be much quieter when everybody has gone to bed for the night,” he said as he got up and lightly patted you on the shoulder. 

“Alright. I’ll see you later Arthur,” you gave him a warm smile and he smiled back at you. As he walked away with his cane in hand, you felt your heart grow heavier by the second. You have to tell him. Now or never.

After finishing the last of the lentil soup, you helped clean up and put everything away for the night. With everybody gone to bed now, you headed to Arthur’s living area on the ground floor.

Your thoughts began to eat at your mind again, as you walked up to the door with the crocodile door knocker looking down at you. Before you could knock upon the door, it opened up with Arthur on the other side. There was a friendly smile on his lips. The mere sight of you always makes him happy.

“(Y/N). Come on in. I’ve made some tea for us,” Arthur stepped back a bit and you came inside. Arthur’s living area was quite different from the other living spaces, including yours. It was more spacious and had more room to it. The kitchen area was almost the same size of your bedroom alone.

“Go on and sit down at the table. I’ll bring out the tea,” he said as he closed the door behind you and then walked off towards the kitchen. You walked over to the table that was near the wall towards where the kitchen was.

You pulled out the chair nearest to the end of the table and sat down. Your thoughts raced through your mind rapidly. Trying to think of what to say to him and how he’ll react to it. Your hands started to shake a bit and your fingers twitched. It felt like you were about to have a nervous breakdown. The clinking of glass brought you back to the real world.

Turning and looking over your shoulder, you watched as Arthur walked out with two terracotta red mugs in each hand. Steam swirled around in the air, when Arthur walked closer to the table.

Once he got to the side where you were sitting, he placed down the mug in front of you with one hand and then the other mug at his seat. Finally, he sat down at the end of the table and pushed the seat forward at an angle to face towards you.

“Go on ahead my dear. It’s ginger, lemon and honey. Helps with a sore throat,” he said as he took some small sips from his mug.

You picked up the mug placed in front of you, blew into it a few times, and took a few quick sips of it. The hot and sweet tea went down your throat quickly as it burned a bit. You tasted both the lemon and ginger right away, with the honey following.

It took a moment or two for the tea to cool down a bit to be more drinkable. With your tea half gone, you let the other half cool off some more and set the mug back down onto the table. Arthur puts down his as well, licking some of the left over tea off of his lips.

“So (Y/N). What’s been bothering you,” he asked in a calm voice. When he asked you the question, you felt your fingers twitch again. It’s like your entire body was going haywire.

You thought it out for a moment or two, until you found the right words. “It’s difficult to explain Arthur. There’s so many words and I don’t know how to use them. Like swallowing them all at once, but can’t seem to find the right ones.”

As you started to talk, Arthur rested his chin in the palm of his left hand as he placed his arm upon the table for support.

“Arthur,” you said as your heart began to slowly beat faster, “a few years ago. You invited me inside and let me live here after what I’ve been through that night. I’m forever grateful for what you did for me.”

“Over the past few years, you’ve shown nothing but kindness and compassion towards me. Helping and guiding me through your teachings as I became a member of the community here. Treating me like a totally different person entirely and making me feel safe within these walls all of us call home.

“And through that, something inside me changed. I didn’t know at first. I thought it was just a one time thing, but it never went away. Whenever you spent time with me, that thing stayed with me the entire time. To me, it felt like pulling myself towards you as it swelled up more and more. Still, I didn’t know what it was, until it was too late when I found out.” 

Arthur shifted in his seat a bit. Growing very worried about you by the second now. “Found what (Y/N),” he asked in a calm, worried manner. “What did you find out too late about?”

Your heart began to beat much faster now. Like a bird stuck within a rose bush full of prickly thorns. Your mind racing all over the place, as you try to keep calm.

“I thought of forgetting about the whole thing and just move on. It only worked for a few weeks, until now. I stopped thinking of the whole thing, but they crept towards me and my mind. By now, it was already too late.” You grew silent now. Your heartbeat increased in seconds, waiting for a question from Arthur.

“Too late? Too late for what (Y/N),” Arthur was becoming more worried now. In his voice, he sounded hurt.

IT’S TIME. JUST SAY IT, your thoughts started screaming at you. Every fiber inside of your body felt like they’re going to explode now.

“Arthur Harrow. I’m in love with you.” Once you said that, complete silence filled the air. You felt your breath hitch in your throat after saying that. 

Shock quickly went across Arthur’s face. His hand left his chin and went to the table in a quick flash. “You’re what?”

Suddenly you felt the flood gates open very rapidly, “oh God Arthur, I’m so sorry,” you cried out. Tears began to stream down your face very rapidly. “I didn’t know how you’ll react to this. Ever since I came here and after the shit I’ve been through, I thought it would never happen to me again, but it did. I started having feelings for you when we started to get closer with one another. At first I thought I was sick, but instead I was love sick. Love sick for you. That’s all it is. Feelings for you. I grew afraid that you’ll never love me in return after I declared mine for you. Wasting all my feelings away and I regret that now. I’m sorry for doing this to you Arthur. I didn’t know this was going to happen to anybody, especially you of all people. I just didn’t want my feelings crushed again. I just want to-”

You were suddenly cut off, as Arthur kissed you on the lips. You never saw him get up, since your tears blinded you in your rant. They felt warm and soft against yours. The smell of the tea he made intoxicated your senses as he slowly kissed you. It tasted sweet. Slowly, Arthur lifted his head up and removed his lips. 

He smiled a bit, as tears began to run down his face. You felt shock go through your whole body. Both your heart and mind were fucking screaming like crazy. You opened your mouth, but no words came out yet.

 “Arthur-” you finally said, but was cut off when Arthur raised his hand. “No need to explain any more my dear (Y/N). You were afraid of telling how you felt about me and I understand that. Believe me, you’re not alone on this.” Arthur choked up a bit, as more tears streamed down over his cheeks.

You felt your heart skip a beat or two, “Arthur, what are you talking about?” You leaned in a bit closer, awaiting an answer.

Arthur sighed heavily, turned his face away from you, and slowly closed his eyes. You could tell he felt uncomfortable. There was something else that you didn’t know about.

He then turned his head back over to you and slowly opened his eyes back up, with tears still streaming down.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, “the very first time I met you, you needed help. You were all by yourself that one night. Walking along the dark alleyway and I took you in. You were so fragile, I didn’t want anything else happening to you. I made sure you were safe when I invited you into my home. From that night on, I felt something blossom inside. At first I thought it was something else, but it wasn’t. That’s when I felt it. Love. I fell in love with you (Y/N).”

You felt your heart stop for a second or two, with your breath caught inside of your throat. Arthur. He’s in love with me. But why did he hide this from me, your thoughts were running rapidly as your heart started fluttering inside of your ribcage.

“Oh Arthur,” you breathed out with a sigh, holding one hand close to your chest while the other covered your mouth. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“Three years,” he said in a calm, low voice, “three whole years I’ve kept it secret from you. At first I didn’t know how you’ll react to it. So I kept quiet about the whole thing and went on. Though, I only showed little signs of my love for you. Hiding it was the only possible way to keep it secret. Until tonight of course.”

Three years. Three years he kept it secret from you. You felt relieved and happy at the same time. Arthur felt the same way as you did. Keeping his feelings and love for you hidden, because he didn’t know how you’d react to him.

Both of you have feelings for one another, but didn’t know how either of you would react when you proclaimed your love for Arthur and his love for you. 

“Oh Arthur,” you said as you removed your hands from your mouth and chest and knelt down in front of him. You then placed your hands on top of his on his lap. Arthur looked down upon you, with his tears stopped flowing down his face.

“It’s alright Arthur. I understand what you did and I don’t hate you for it. Both of us didn’t know how to handle our feelings for one another. But that’s okay. We love one another and that’s all. Just the two of us, Arthur. Just the two of us.”

Your thoughtful words brought a big smile to him and to yourself.

“You’re absolutely right my dear (Y/N). We have each other’s love.” He said. You then picked yourself up off the floor slowly and then you placed your lips upon his. With your hands still on his, you felt your fingers intertwine with one another as you kissed and kissed.

At last, you felt your heart sync up with Arthur’s. There’s no other way, but just to keep kissing and kissing as long as you could.

Finally, you have somebody to love you in return and love you for all eternity.     

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Chapter 21 of Chained: To Wield The Blade We Have Forged

A/N: This chapter is stephcass focused enough that I think people might enjoy this as a standalone thing, so I'll be posting the chapter both on AO3 as usual, and right here in this post! This also connects to the reblog I wrote up the other night gushing about Batgirl (2000) #19 and the potential in a Cass vs Jason confrontation!

For this chapter only, NOT the whole fic: Rated T for Teen Ships are Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain and vaguely hinted at Jason Todd/Tim Drake There's gonna be a LOT of plot points that don't seem to go anywhere, cause they're parts of much bigger arcs, but there's some really sweet talk about deep stuff towards the end and the start is Steph handling a deescalation scenario Hope you enjoy ^w^ !

Dear War Diary,

You know, some days I don't even think Ivy should be in Arkham. Logging, pollution, hair spray tearing a hole in the ozone layer, pesticides - if I could feel plants' pain as they were broken apart, I'd want to feed people to ambulatory venus fly traps too. Heck, back in high school I was sure tempted to let her have at some of my more obnoxious classmates.

Unfortunately, today was not one of those days.

We knew something was weird this time around when the docs at Arkham called warning us that she woke up screaming and her powers went out of control. Usually when this sort of thing happens she goes towards a clear goal. Like, there'll be a construction site or a factory or something damaging the land and drawing her out.

Thing is though, the more we chased her, the clearer it became that she wasn't running towards anything.

She was fleeing, and seemingly had no clear place to bolt to. First she fled to the meat packing district. Then she ran down to the water, and like, we expected her to follow the coast? But she just swam right in! Left huge algal blooms in her wake too; like the lacy train of a queen's dress. She even left Gotham altogether for a hot minute only to turn back again for no reason. She was very obviously out of her mind frightened of something, but we had no idea what it was, and frankly, we still don't.

Tonight had real big 'predator running from the wildfire' energy, is what I'm saying.

It took several days, but eventually she gave up on running and bunkered down in one of the parks. The concrete storage shed she picked as her new home was so overgrown by the time we got to it that it was impossible to see a single square inch of the structure. The hardwood and thorn vines covering it had to have been at least a meter thick.

And that little backstory finally brings us to tonight's patrol.

I tapped my earpiece, "We getting anything on the seismic, O?"

"Nope. If she's digging she's doing it slow enough we're not gonna get any warning. Good news though, I finally got an answer back from Waller. Harley Quinn can be on the line within ten minutes notice."

"Awesome. Speedy, you good to cover me?"

"Yup! Got a whole quiver full of tranquilizers and frog crotch arrows ready for her."

I snort-laughed, "God, what a name!"

"I know right?! But yeah, you're good to go. I'll be aiming from the East, so gimmie a sign if you think you'll need me at a different angle."

"Got it. Alright O, give that ten minute notice and I'll start the approach."

Step one: Get the cops to back up the perimeter by at least ten feet all around. Frankly they were gonna be useless in a fight if it came to that, and the whole goal here was to get this done without bloodshed.

This part was pretty damn easy. I knew one of the cops there by name and she was more than happy to back her fellow officers out of the negotiation zone.

Step two: Establish a desire for peaceful communication.

I spoke through a megaphone into the general direction of the tree-bunker, "Doctor Isley? Would you be willing to come out and talk?"

The woods creaked and groaned, shifting minutely. My heart pounded in my chest, waiting, watching, every leaf bud an acid spitting behemoth in the making.

Nothing came out.

I called out to her again, "Okay. Doctor Isley, you seem really upset, and we don't understand why, but you haven't hurt anyone yet so we're not going to hurt you."

I glanced around surreptitiously at the cops. Lucky for me they all seem to be on their best behavior tonight. No one was grumbling about wanting to hurt her loud enough for me to hear, and I just had to trust that meant the grass couldn't hear them either.

"If you don't want to talk to me, that's okay. We want to get you some help, so we're going to try and get Harley on the phone so you can talk to her."

Against my ear, the phone crackled to life.

Time for step three: Get negotiation partner on board.

"Which bat-brat do I have the displeasure of speakin to today!?"

"It's Batgirl; we need your help getting through to Ivy."

"HAH! Well fat fuckin chance, asshole! I ain't talkin her inta anythin she don't wanna do!"

"And we're not asking you to! She hasn't even hurt anybody, and she's not making any threats, but she is clearly terrified. We think there's something or someone after her, and it's not us."

I gave her a moment to think it over. She's got to know we wouldn't let Ivy die, but there's always the chance we're just lying.

"Fine. Alright, what's the plan here?"

"Thank you! I'm gonna hold the speaker up to the megaphone, and you let her know you want to talk, then I'll slowly approach and once in speaking range I'll take the megaphone off of the phone to give the two of you some privacy."

"An you'll still be listinen the whole damn time of course."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but at least the cops won't be."

Harley sighs, "Turn the lights down in the house and start the music then. Lets get this show rollin an' over with."

Step four: Negotiate and deescalate.

Through the phone megaphone combo she said, "Hey Sweetpea, mind lettin me hear yer pretty voice again?"

The protective wall started growing again, getting thicker. I chance a few slow steps forwards anyway, since nothing offensive starts growing either. Or at least I hoped there wasn't something offensive in there.

"I've missed ya. Not the same kickin ass with these bozos in here, ya'know?"

As I got closer, the smell of ozone got stronger, breathing started to feel weird, and every drop of sweat evaporated off of me, leaving me parched. Her hypergrowth vegetation was stripping the carbon dioxide and water out of the air so fast that the atmosphere around it was going haywire.

Just as I thought she was waiting for me to get close enough for her tree's roots to just use me as a nutrient bag, an opening formed over the doorway to the storage unit, and she shakily poked her head out, calling for Harleen.

She was messed up. She clearly hadn't been able to take care of herself and

I'm not writing the next part down verbatim. Just seems too... invasive. They said a lot of sweet an

I don't feel great about this, but just in case I need it, I am going to record what I remember of how Harley talked her down.

Harley said, "Pumpkin, I'm so sorr

Okay. Third time's the charm?

This was not a criminal wrecking havok for profit. This was not a terrorist making demands. This was someone having a breakdown due to forces outside her control and her girlfriend comforting her as best she could. I shouldn't even have been hearing it, really, so yeah I think I'd feel too skeezy to keep dinner down if I wrote it all out 'just in case'.

Informationally speaking, hopefully the only part of their conversation I'll ever need to know again is that Ivy said "The green is dying" and "She's made the world barren; the flowers will never bloom again" and basically made it really clear that the damage was already done and no one was after her.

If you're reading this Future Me and you desperately need to know exactly what happened, sorry not sorry, get a time machine or something.

Anyways, after it became clear that there was nothing we could do for her other than get her back to mental help, I gave Speedy the signal to take the shot. The tranqs hit her before she realized anything was up, and there were only a few seconds of scuffle, then she was down for the count.

I picked up the phone again to cut the line and Harley said, "So that's it, huh? I talk her into openin' the treeline, you drug her up, and that's curtains?"

"There clearly wasn't anything else we could do for-"

"Fuck off you insufferable, controlling, shitty, furry knock off cops! I shoulda told her ta mulch ya!"

There were the muffled sounds of the phone being taken out of her hand, and then a voice I didn't recognize, "Well, I hope that clown to plant heart to heart was worth the favor."

"Zero injuries, zero deaths, zero horrifying poison scares: I'd say it was."

She, whoever she was (I assume it was Waller) chuckled, "Well you aren't the one picking up the tab. Tell Oracle it was a pleasure doing business again."

The line went dead.

"You get that O?"

"Loud and clear. And hey, don't let what Quinn said get to you. You did great."

"Thanks," I kinda didn't feel it, but the sentiment was nice.

The rest of patrol was a long and boring ride on the top of a police van, making sure that no one ambushed her on her way back to Arkham, and then a short conversation about what they're going to do to keep her there this time.

They've had a couple different ways to cut her off from whatever The Green is for a while now. Every method has nasty side effects, and half her breakout attempts were in direct opposition to using them. At this point their policy is to just help her manage being connected. Considering what I saw that connection putting her through tonight? The docs rubber stamped cutting her off from The Green again, at least temporarily, and I'm pretty okay that.

So yeah. We won. Yippee. And all it took was arm twisting a woman held prisoner by a shadowy government agency in order to trick the love of her life into making herself vulnerable to us...

God this job sucks sometimes.

And the suck was not over yet, not by a long shot! And the suck was not only reserved for me either. Uh, okay obviously since Harley and Ivy, but also!

Oracle called to tell me this: "I need to give you a heads up before you return to base, and Speedy needs some time to handle a private phone call so I'm telling you this now. Black Bat got into a fight that upset her pretty bad. She's been on the training sims and dummies for over three hours, and I'm kinda worried she's not gonna sleep unless someone helps her untangle her head."

"I thought everything went smooth on her end, what the heck happened?"

"Easier if I just show you," Oracle said and fed a video taken by one of the Bat-House's internal cameras into my HUD.

It showed Ca (gah trying not to write anyone's names is a mess) Black Bat in civilian clothes, standing in a doorway. She's staring at the Red Hood from across the room with an expression of frustrated determination.

He ignores her for a while, continuing to read, curled up on the couch in a posture so terrible I have to wonder if he's trying to give himself back problems.

She just... kept staring. And staring.

Finally he asked, sounding very snarky and annoyed, "Can I help you?"

"Why did you pull the trigger again? You were better. You did better for so long. Why?"

"I don't owe you that shit," He narrowed his eyes at her, "And you don't get to decide I was better just cause you liked it more when I was docile."

She marches over to him, "I know how it hurts. I see it hurt you! I want to help. I want to know why."

"No," He said, standing up to loom over her, as though she couldn't kick his ass five ways from Sunday with a hand tied behind her back, "You want me to get on my knees and sob and beg for forgiveness. As though any of you shitheads ever even deserved my forgiveness!"

"No! I want to see you get better! I wanted another little brother!"

"Well congratu-fucking-lations, you got one! Don't worry, Dickie hates it just as much. I'm sure he can give you some pointers on how to go fuck yourself about it."

My jaw started hurting from how tight I had my teeth clenched as I watched her face twist in open rage-hurt-sorrow, "Why won't you stop burning our house down!? You're in it!"

"I. Don't. Owe. You. That."

She glared up at him defiantly, "You owe someone."

"No. I don't."

"Sheezus!" Black Canary said as she entered the room, "I leave you alone for five minutes and you're already picking a fight with her? Seriously?"

Black Bat's anger simmered below the boiling point again, "Not a fight."

"That sure looked like-"

"Not a fight." She declared bitterly, storming out of the room.

BC raised an eyebrow at Hood.

He smiled all teeth and irritation, "Not a fight!"

She rolled her eyes and took her post back up as the video ended.

I sighed, "Well. That'd do it. Thanks for the warning, I'll see if I can talk to her, take her mind off it."

"Appreciated. I tried but... I dunno. You'll probably have more luck."

"We'll see I guess! So, am I good to check in with Speedy, or is she still on her phone call?"

"You're good."

When I grappled up to the roof she was on, Speedy looked pretty damn unhappy. So, like, clearly tonight was sucking complete ass for everyone. Mercury in retrograde or some shit, idk.

"You got news I take it?" I asked.

"Mhm, great news! By which I mean totally shit news. Apparently the lab I get my bloodwork done at broke, as in everything is giving false negatives. So yeah, all my bloodwork for the past who knows how long might have been wrong!"

"Oh shit. You want us to test you in the Batcave? Guarantee the lab down there could handle whatever you need!"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll need to fast for twelve hours beforehand no matter what, so it wouldn't really be any quicker. Also my civilian GP would be pretty leery of a Bat-Diagnostic, especially since they already got me an appointment with the closest available people."

O cut in over comms, "That is suspiciously fast..."

Speedy shrugged, "I've got a feeling Green Arrow might have pushed me up the list somehow. He might not be (secret identity stuff I can't write down here :P ) anymore, but he's still got some pull."

"Hmm, well, both of you get back to base and we can figure out the logistics once you're here."

"Roger."

"Aye Aye Captain."

Once she cut off I offered, "Grapple line tag on the way there to take your mind off it?"

"You know what? I could use something to stretch my legs out after all that sniper crouching. Fuck it, let's do this."

Swingy swingy swingy over the buildings, across the bridge, to grandmother's imposing, minefield-surrounded cave we went!

We got into the cave, changed out of our gear, and sure enough, Black Bat was still in the training section, running herself ragged. Speedy went up to get some sleep since she couldn't eat dinner now anyways (do NOT envy that). So I went straight into an attempt to pry Black Bat off the training mats.

"Heads up!" I called out and tossed a bottle of water at her head.

She caught it without even looking, swapping to kicks and using her other hand to demolish her sandbag opponents, "Been drinking enough just fine."

"Sure. What'll it take to convince you to take a break and drink it with me anyways?"

She paused, leg still raised to kick, perfectly poised like gravity wasn't even a factor. It always makes my legs hurt looking her like that. Makes the rest of me swoon too.

"Would um..." She frowned, like she expected me to think less of her for making the request, "You bring dinner down here? For us both?"

I gave her a smile, "Yeah, of course. Mind saying how come?"

"Because Hood's up there and I want to fight him more. If I fight him, have to look at him. Have to watch him feeling and thinking and..." She finally put her leg down, and fidgeted with the cap of her water, "And I just don't want to."

"Didn't realize you hated him that bad."

"Not sure I do? Messy."

"Yeah, messy for me too."

Translation: I still don't know how to feel about him taking grisly revenge against Black Mask 'in my honor'. Still also super don't know how to feel about his welcome home gifts of a gun and an offer to come murder criminals with him.

Then I add, "But I'll have you know I'm a first class mess messer with-er! So if you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to."

She very briefly smiled, then her face feel again and somber moment passed before she said quietly, "Yeah, okay. Bring food down and... we can talk."

"On it."

"Um, wait!"

"Huh?"

She caught my arm and reeled me in for a kiss on the cheek, "There."

I laughed and gave her a proper kiss, "There! Love you."

Diary, have I ever told you about how she looks when she blushes? Because I seriously think I'll need to pull out the old poetry textbooks in order to do it justice.

Upstairs took me passed the dining room, where Red Hood and Red Robin were talking.

"The fuck is that?" Hood asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Blueprints. I'm having a section of my house renovated while I'm stuck here."

"Wwwwhy?"

"I am swiftly being driven mad by boredom and saw a really neat indoor garden set-up on pinterest."

"An indoor garden? In Gotham? Do you fuckin want to get strangled to death in your sleep by vines?"

RR does the little 'tch' thing he picked up from Robin, "Whatever, it'll be fine, these are tiny little arboreals and I'll have reinforced airlocks leading in and out."

"That does fucking nothing for attacks in your sleep."

"Which is why I'll have the whole lockdown system automated. I was already going to do automation for the plant care stuff anyways, cause lets be honest here, there was no way I was ever going to keep them alive on my own."

"...The speed and ease with which you oscillate between self depreciating paranoia and megalomaniacal hubris is fascinating."

And even as pissed off as I am with both of them, that still almost made me friggin lose it laughing, RR seemed so offended too, it was great!

And speaking of pissed off? Yeah, seeing RR acting so chummy with Hood was kinda making my blood boil! Like, maybe he didn't even know they fought. But he's supposed to be her friend too, and it's still sticking in my craw, and I'm busy with the whole damn city needing patroled, and so bottom line: I didn't talk to him tonight, and I'm probably not gonna talk to him tomorrow night either!!

Agent A had several plates set to the side already when I got into the kitchen. I think he assumed at least a few of us were gonna go off in our separate corners after the argument. Made it nice and easy to snag two and bring it down.

She had clearly been pacing, waiting for me, back down in the cave.

We sat together and she held my hand while we ate - pretty awkward, but super worth it. We stayed quiet, me cause I wanted to give her the space to start talking, and her probably because she wasn't sure where to start.

Once all the peas and mash were gone and she was pushing her drumstick around the plate she asked, "Ready?"

"Go for it. All ears."

"It's a guilt thing I think? Least a little?"

"Kinda always figured you were uh, how to put it, I guess invested in him, cause of that sort of parallel between you two?"

She nodded, "Not all of it's that, though. Different guilt," She gives me a rueful smile, "I'm layered in it, huh?"

"Like a lasagna of angst," I told her solemnly.

She huffed a quiet laugh, fidgeting with my hand, "Am I um. A tasty lasagna?"

"Oh yeah, you're delicious," I said with a cheesy wink.

"Terrible," She laughed a bit more, running her thumb over the back of my hand, and the nervous sad crept right back in, "You know about um... One day, I rescued a man? Murderer. From the gas chamber?"

"Yeah. Not well, you've never said much, but I've read a bit about it. Was kind of a big news thing."

"On the way out I met the mother of his victim. She demanded justice. She demanded his death. I didn't know how to- to reconcile her grief. Still don't. But back then... I put him back in the gas chamber. I look at Hood. Wonder if he's the murderer or the mother or the executioner. Wonder what the mother was. Wonder what I was. Wonder if the distinction matters at all."

"Hood's trying to cut all the bad people out, trying to bleed the world better. You're trying to keep it all alive, trying to keep everyone growing. Maybe the other distinctions don't matter, but I think this one has to."

She squeezed my hand tight and kissed every one of my knuckles delicately, "I hope so. Trying to believe so."

"I kinda think you already do. You may be an angst lasagna, but you don't do what you do just out of guilt, yeah?"

"Guess so... I wanted so bad to find out that they'd been replaced by aliens or something. Find out that wasn't him. Not now and um. Not on TV all those months ago. At the very least I was hoping to find regret."

"I really wish I had something better to say than, you know, his determination to be an asshole isn't something we can fix. Just gotta keep growing our garden and hope he decides to join us for real sometime."

"Yeah..." Another round of knuckle kisses, "Yeah, you're right," She wrinkles her nose, "Sucks you're right."

"Yup."

She pressed her forehead against our intertwined hands for a while.

Then she asked, "Tell me about one of your shows?"

"Sure."

So I chattered about some light stuff she nodded along to until we were both ready for bed. It was honestly really nice, and I think I needed it too, a lot more than I realized.

So yeah, here's hoping tomorrow is less of a complete shit show from start to finish.

- Batgirl IV

[asshlyyyy]

Pumpkin Carving (Elvis Headcanons)

I wanted to get headcanons up between every fic this month. The same will be for the next two months as well. We are in holiday season my pals. I have four other headcanons planned, and yes these will all sadly be headcanons... I might have one fic planned that fits in the halloween theme.

Are we liking these? Are we not? Well, too bad. Because this is how its going to be. I also haven’t started on any fics so... That is great as well. I swear I am an amazing writer at keeping stuff posted for you guys... he... he... hehe...

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elivs / Elvis x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Spelling and Grammatical Errors

“Why do we need pumpkins again?”

“So that we can carve them,” you smiled and looked over at Elvis, who was currently driving the car.

“And what do we do with said carved pumpkins?”

“You put them outside, silly. It’s for decoration. You can even put candles in them to make them spookier.” You explained.

“Wouldn’ they just rot?”

“After a while yes, but they will last al of Halloween.” You replied.

"Okay, my darlin’, whateva ya want.” He hummed.

The two of you arrived at the pumpkin patch shortly afterwards.

You wanted the biggest of the biggest you could find.

Elvis wanted you to get one that you could carry. Of course, you argued with him and eventually you won.

So, you found the two biggest pumpkins and Elvis carried them for you.

He found it weird that pumpkin patches existed because… you went there for pumpkins and that’s about it.

He called it a waste of gas, but of course… he would do anything for his significant other.

You were his one and only

The love of his life

The one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with

“How do we even carve these?”

“Well, you cut off the top, and then you pull out all the guts. You want it to be completely clean. No seeds, no guts, no coconuts.”

“What?” Elvis looked over at you confused. You laughed gently and shook your head.

“No butts, no coconuts. You haven’t heard that?” You questioned as you went to grab some trash bags.

“No? Should I have?”

“No, you just had lame parents.” You stocked your tongue out at him.

“My mama raised me good, what do ya mean?”

“I know, but it’s just something my mama said. When I would say butttttt,” you smiled softly at the memory. “She would response, not butts no coconuts.”

“That’s cute,” Elvis smiled and walked over to you.

“That she was,”

“I was talkin’ bout ya darlin’,” He wrapped his arms around you. You giggled lightly and shook your head.

“Help me put the garbage bags on the table. DOn’t wanna make a mess.” You said and pulled away.

With Elvis’s help you were able to cover the table with garbage bags.

After pulling out the knifes and a tray for the seeds to cook later, you were ready.

“Elvis… please don’t cut off a finger.”

“I feel like I should be saying that to you. You’re more clumsier then me.” You gasped at his words.

“How rude.”

You too then started to get to gutting.

Elvis was a huge baby.

He was gagging the whole time, which made you gag in return.

But, eventually the two of you finished gutting the pumpkins, and you had a great amount of seeds to bake later.

Not to mention, you could make pumpkin pie as well.

You loved making your pumpkin pie. Not to mention, everyone also loved it. Especially Elvis.

“So now what?” Elvis asked.

“You make a design… like a face, an animal, or even a word.” You explained as you tried to figure out what to do.

“So I could do anything…?”

“Yes.”

So, time came where you two spent some time on your carving.

Elvis was done before you… of course.

You figured it was because he did something simple.

“Okay… I am…. Done!” You announced as you finished.

“Took you long enough.” Elvis chuckled. “What’d ya make?”

“Let me turn it around,” You said as you moved around the knife. You turned the pumpkin around so that Elvis could see your designed.

“Aw, that’s so cute, darlin’.” You blushed lightly and shrugged liked it was nothing.

“Nothing special.”

“Yes it is. How did you even do that? I mean… A heart with our initials in side… I love it.” He smiled and reached over for your hand.

He took it in yours and laid a kiss on it.

“Let me see yours now,” You giggled. Elvis shook his head and went ahead and turned his around.

“… Are you kidding me?”

“What?” He chuckled like it was nothing.

“You swore! We can’t put this out. Kids will see it!”

“The only ones who will see it is us and family and friends. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe you swore.” You shook your head and stood up.

“Ya dragged me into this.” Elvis pointed out.

“I wanted this to be cutteeee, not… you swearing.”

Elvis got up and went over to you. He wrapped hair arms around you and pressed soft kisses against your check.

“Elvisssss,” you giggled.

“‘m sorry, dalrin’.”

“It’s okay, Elvis. I forgive you. Could always do more.” Elvis groaned and pressed his face against your shoulder. You giggled and lifted up his face and kissed him deeply.

“I love you,” you whispered and pressed again other kiss against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.

Taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @slutforblueeyes, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @starryhazee, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @smbonilla2002, @homebodybirkin2003, @apparently-sunshine, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @jeonggukschris, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @thelaziest10, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @lovingly-unlovingme, @starlight-jpg, @omegellenlouise, @gyomei-tiddies, @Chlobug07, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @Itzjira18, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @ilovemuppets, @hangmanswhore, @theinvibislecapricorn, @hariestyles1, @annamarie16, @holliemahady, @misacc08, @Brighteyesscum, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud, @lovelyney, @lordandmistress, @Sharkslayersblog, @billysway, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar, @aliciaelle47, @kh1898, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @bob-the-tomato, @crabat-the-queen, @naveyelise, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @iluvnerds69, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil, @Tylerdurdenisme, @laperceval, @xcallmetaniax, @londonalozzy, @mslizziesblog, @rosemochaaesthetic-blog, @bxbylexi23, @gloomynigvts, @persephones-blood-iris, @milaa24, @randompointlessbeauty, @auds02, @BubblyYork, @nora-nexus-34, @jazmin2211, @kittenlittle24, @Rqseycheeks, @moonbird1507, @bobthefishiesworld, @cevans-winchester, @luckyevansstan, @noorreads, @idc123sworld, @normatural, @hauntedarchivesx, @Luna4mnoon, @imagineslut01, @Kayleealicej, @thatcrazyfangirl22, @amiets2, @loveisalover, @myguiltypleasures21, @poppet05, @xcallmetaniax, @fullmetal-falcon, @kaitaesupremacy, @rainydayz101, @asd-n-adhd-fox, @loveisalover, @eliseinmemphis​, @adaydreamaway08​

[yv-sketches]

@internetbanality I’m not sure if this helps because I suck at explaining things, but here’s my bookbinding progress.

Everything is under a read more because it's a loooong post.

1. Big pile of paper.

2. Fold all of them into the sets of 4 like formatted.

3. I check every page with AO3 to make sure no lines are missing and there are no weird markings on the pages. (Like the weird stripe on the left)

1. Press for one day. (My book press is just two pieces of wood with holes drilled through them) If you have less than 10 sets you don't really need a press, a heavy book is enough weight.

2. I prick holes into each set of 4. First I lay the pages on two books so the pin will go between the spines of the books instead of in the table. My paper is A4 sized (21 cm) so I prick at 1.5 / 5 / 8 / 10.5 / 13 / 16 / 19.5 cm.

3. Thread the needle with about 70cm of thread. I tie a double knot just to be sure

1. To start sewing, I zigzag through the first set of 4 pages

2. Zigzag back

3. Fix the thread together by pulling the needle through the knot and add the second set on top of this one. Make sure it's the correct way up and the page numbers make sense.

1. When sewing the second set, loop the needle through the zigzagged thread of first set

2. Go back through the same hole and repeat until the end of set 2.

3. For every next set, loop the needle through the thread of the set before it. Do not put it through the first set.

1. Heres a better picture of where the needle should go. A curved needle helps. There are curved bookbinding needles but if you apply some violence to a regular needle it works too.

2. Continue as adding sets until you’ve sewn together everything. These are 10 sets together (40 papers. 160 book pages. About 30k worth of fic) Don’t be me and do a 100k fic as first attempt.

3. If you’re out of thread, cut it off and start with a new 70 cm. Tie the two leftover threads through the new knot so the two threads are connected

1. Endpapers are just slightly sturdy coloured papers, folded just like the pages

2. Put glue on part of the last page (like 3-5 cm)

3. Add the endpaper as if it were another page, on both sides

1. Put it back in the press (or under the heavy book). Make sure the edges are as ‘straight’ as possible so they’re actually getting flattened and not folding into each other.

2. Add glue to the pressed edge. Again, this isn't necessary of you have only a few sets because it won't weigh enough to cause trouble when reading.

3. I like to glue a piece of paper to the edges so they have something to stick to. Leave it for 3 days, just to be sure.

1. For the cover, I had this sheet special printed to measure. (I feel like there’s a whole tutorial necessary for the digital parts so I’m skipping that for now) Next to it are a finished cover and the pressed book.

2. I glue cardboard into the exact place and cut the little flaps so they can fold around it.

3. After the first cover, I fold the binding into the sheet to find out where the other cover should be

1. The cover fully wrapped around the cardboard

2. Glue the endpapers into the cover. In this picture only one side is done. If you open the cover, you’ll see the endpaper as first ‘page’

3. Apply pressure so the glue will set correctly. I recommend putting it in the press but the press is occupied atm

The result: A book (?)

(@applesandbannas747 the one on the right is yours when it's dry. The stuff that went wrong isnt super visible from the outside)

I made a sample file here. It's a .pdf consisting of 6 sets, ready to print and sew. Kinda like those sneak peek samples people give away sometimes? I added a cover and back so the last 9 steps with the endpapers and cardboard aren't necessary.

[ov105]

Short: Relax

A quickly assembled fic made out of a craving for an foot massage. I always felt like sleeping there. A little delayed for posting since university-related stuff got in the way. Going to need some self-love at the beach after this one!

2,088 words of Nancy

Enjoy

“Relax, it’s all on me, those bastards that don’t take our advice can get lost.”

I remembered what my boss told me before he went the other way down the hall. Having turned down the opportunity to pay, and probably also for a promotion, as he handed a little too much cash to the front desk. Sighing under the warm towel on my forehead while I scrolled on my phone, lying only in my boxers. I wasn’t supposed to be worried, I was about to get a free massage, after all, so I sighed again. It was a quiet room, with a quartet of candles lit on a shelf, dimmed lamps directed into the ceiling, and some basic royalty-free sounds of nature playing. It just seemed right to unfold part of the towel to cover my eye.

I was already halfway asleep when Nancy came back. Hearing the door open and close silently as she shuffled toward the edge of the massage table. Rubbing her hands with oil, I felt her fingers on my toes, and probably thinking I already was dozing off, pressed her palm down. Hard enough to make my head spring up and take the towel off.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was going to,” I shrugged. I laid my head back down as she asked me how I wanted the next hour-and-a-half to feel. As goes with most things in my life so far, I blurted out my preference; mild.

“Alright, I’ll keep it mild. Just lie down,” and as she started to press, softer this time around, and sensing the tense muscles on my foot as she pressed down again, she said.

“And just relax.”

That seemed to do the trick. Now, Nancy had a soft tone. From how her hands worked and slid up my leg, and from earlier smalltalk before she had started. This wasn’t our first rodeo however, though the last time I saw her, she had longer hair. A twist however is that I was asleep for at least three-fourths of that first meeting. The second to fourth was just a repeat. Since then, I’ve met at least two of her colleagues, yet none of them had that touch that she had lulled me to sleep.

I’ve always noticed one thing; she stood slightly wider next to her colleagues. Her thick frame was barely hidden by the baggy faded purple uniform they all wore. It only took a few angles and glances from my phone to notice. I always thought I came first, so I always stole the luxury to end up dozing off—only to hear a faint moaning from the next massage room.

That guy, or on a few occasions, my guys, got their happy endings. And their money’s worth. So I wondered when I was next.

The next hour passed by, dozing in and out, only snapping awake to flip myself over. However, a sensation crept up my thigh that started to stir me. Trying to fight with myself as I tried to think my incoming erection away. Trying to force it to stay down from forming a tent in the towel. Yet Nancy’s fingers just kept coming back, further knocking at my second brain as my blood flowed down to my loins.

Before I knew it, I was on the losing end. It was Nancy anyway.

“You seem ready,” she remarked as she took her fingers off, “Do you mind if I do.”

I just waved my hand. I was her client, after all. A good time was overdue.  

Grabbing at my bulge, giving it a gentle squeeze, before she took the hem of my boxers and slid them off. Taking my cock in her fingers, and like a cat to a laser, she had her eye on it. Turning to look at me as her lips opened, the brush of her breath quickly overridden by her lips. Sucking hard at my semi-erect cock, gripping at my shaft as her tongue glided down. Having done her work for her as I only got harder. Kissing at the tip as she slowed down, but all the same being loud and sloppy.

Having a free hand, I swung it up and rubbed on her thigh, awaiting some sort of signal. Nancy just smirked. Then lifted her lips for a second and swirled her tongue around my cock.

“Go on.”

So I slid it up to her ass. Proving myself right as I squeezed the soft flesh, making her shift a little as I felt her up. What I got in response to that was a deeper dive, sucking harder as she pulled back up. Setting that tune for herself as I laid my head back and hummed to Nancy’s lips on my cock.

It wasn’t long before, what had been an erection I’ve been fighting to keep, became one that I fought not to pop in her mouth. Feeling myself rock a bit as she became unstoppable. I needed more. I thought of reaching my hand deeper on her ass. I pretty much grabbed her and hung on as my fingers dug in. And that seemed to do the trick. Nancy released me with a loud pop, replacing it with a slow, almost unfelt, stroking.  

“You want a little extra today, huh?”

“Just getting my money’s worth.”

“I usually don’t do this, not with our usual clientele,” she began, looking at me and my cock, “But you don’t seem so bad yourself.”

“It’s been some time.”

“Also, this one’s going to fit snugly in me, so,” Nancy said as she took position on the side of the table, “You got a condom?”

I just pointed to my pants, standing up and walking over naked to get it from my wallet. Hearing Nancy pull her pants down to the floor as she waited.

“You know, I haven’t used this in a while,” I said as I tore the packet open and unrolled it over my shaft. Then turning around to be greeted with the sight of her bent over.

Nancy just glanced at me, hiding a smile as I came up behind her. Rubbing my cock excitedly between her lips, thick much like herself, and teasing her with my tip, she looked back at me with eyes that told me to get over myself already. I knew we were running on a fast clock. I was just waiting for that look. So I pushed my tip in, only to freeze as I shook in the sudden tightness and warmth, placing and pressing my fingers into her hips. Barely able to start moving until I couldn’t, shuddering all the way through the second thrust.

I swear I was melting as my crotch met Nancy’s as I continued. Finding it hard to even pull back. But seemingly having watched me this whole time, I read her lips that only mouthed one thing; Faster.

Snapping my head back in place, I bucked my hips forward. The tugging grip she had on me instantly made me click into gear. Both of us groaned and devolved into mere animals as I went for deep, long thrusts to loosen her up. Pushing and pulling her against the massage table and a hair’s breadth away from carelessly pistoning. Unable to hear anything else in the room as I threw my head back, watching her just looking at me with a wicked, inviting impression.

Nancy knew what she wanted, airing her compliments out as I struck some chord in her. Telling me how much she’d wanted it since mere minutes ago, moaning loudly as she barely held herself up. Shifting to the way my cock rammed itself into her. Removing the facade of a meek customer and masseuse, to just two reckless adults. Her ass, fat and soft as I had felt it earlier, was bouncing along nicely. The thrill of misbehavior coursing through me as I did little to impend my orgasm.

“Grab my tits,” she said as I stopped.

Holding and pulling her up with one arm, I dialed down to shorter thrusts, with her hips greeting mine as I was stuck to her. Sliding my hand into her shirt, I forcibly pushed her bra up and grabbed at her tits. Having a bust larger than most, and feeling, squeezing it at the palm of my hand, almost sent me into overdrive. Nancy sucked me into her depths and egged me on.

What I had thought was just another fifteen minutes jerking off in a shower was now being spent inside my massage therapist, with far less control over myself. Clenching down on me with her folds, or was she always this tight? Making me think she was doing this not for a little extra, but rather a favor for us.

Rolling my hips impulsively, there was little I could do but watch her squirming as she let me have her. Remembering that I was just getting the most of my money as she evaded my lips when I tried to kiss her neck. Apologizing for crossing the line, with her instead pressing her ass back to me.

“Just keep fucking me.”

“I’m getting really tired though,” I protested, not adding another detail; the massage oil was starting to make me feel sticky.

“Fine,” Nancy sighed as she slipped off me, “Lie down.”

Doing as she instructed, I lied back down on the massage table where it all began. Grabbing a chair and carefully squatting atop of me, putting her feet on what little space was left on the padding. And with as much as a little tap on my cock, I felt my cock sliding between her lips and pushed herself down on me. All while not having taken her gaze off me, except to let out a long moan as she slowly threw her head back.

Placing her fingers on me, Nancy began to bounce, her thighs providing the perfect cushion as she did. And for having taken me completely raw and without foreplay herself, already so wet.

“Fuck,” she said shakily, “Other clients usually don’t let me do this.”

“Why so?” I barely managed to huff out.

“They’re too wide,” Nancy replied, “And would’ve cum earlier than you.”

I was unable to reply, completely taken over by the pricking feeling of an incoming orgasm. Shuddering and clenching my fists as she bounced on top of me. I was acting much like a freshman, being held under her grip. Acting as a conductor of my cock as she skillfully gyrated and rode it.

“Just hold on, I’ll make you cum in me.”

If this equated to a five-star review, I’d rate it higher. If only I could cackle now, raising my hands up as if redempted from a droning boredom, I would. Only to be substituted for a twitching cock that was being wildly ridden and leaving me a rumbling mess. Almost feeling like I needed to pay a little more for another go. Nancy was loudly moaning, slipping up bit-by-bit as she grinded, gyrated, and rode me all at once. Trying to get me to fill her up.

And with a faint whisper from her. I weakly thrusted upward and knew my hand was up.

Pressing her crotch down and gyrating did the trick. Shallowly rising back up, only to come down as my cock started to fill Nancy up. Grinding as I came deep inside, feeling every backed-up spurt barreling into her, my cock a prison, and her pussy an anticipating sleeve, save for the thin sheet of plastic that prevented it. Forgetting where I was or whose pussy I was releasing myself into. A combined feeling of relaxation and excitement leaving with every twitch that eventually rendered me a blob of flesh.

I just laid in that state, only snapping back when she asked me.

“So, I’ll see you next time then?”

I sat up, speechless, sitting completely naked on a massage table as my massuse waited for my reply. Nancy looked unaffected by the fucking I’d given her. I was the less fortunate case. Looking down at my cock and then only remembering the condom that I put on it. Snapping it off of me, tying it as I took a deep breath. Remembering I was the paying customer, I said.

“Next time, just say it straight.”

“Next time,” Nancy started, “I’ll try to massage you faster.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“So we can have more time, maybe even do it raw?”

[the-bi-space-ace]

Quick update!

First! I’m gonna start tagging posts with spoilers here on out with tbb spoilers and tbb s3 spoilers and tbb season 3. Covers all the bases, ya know?

I didn’t avoid spoilers at all for season 2 until the finale but this time I want to go into each episode with zero indication about the content. It’ll make the episodes more fun for me to watch and I want to soak up as much fun as possible.

I’m also going to speed run S1 & S2 and I have some ideas on a few posts about themes etc that I’d like to talk about! (Probably heavily focusing on Echo & Crosshair bc of course I would.) I might even throw in some hopes for S3 because ohhhhh boy am I excited.

I’m also going to really buckle down and get The World Tumbles Down ready so I can start posting it the first week of March. I’m already done with the first four chapters, which I know doesn’t seem like a lot but it’s over 30k words already and there’s still a lot left to write! It’s super plot heavy and I’m really proud of my progress so far so I hope the wait is worth it 🩵

I have quite a few fics planned for 2024 and I’m going to spend as much of this next month as I can writing which means I probably won’t post fic in February even though I was planning to - that could change but as of rn this is the plan. A lot got put on the back burner bc I started a new job in January and with the stress of moving to a new city in October plus having to find a new job I was dead tired and really low mood-wise. The sun is staying up later in the day which has helped my mood improve (thankfully). All of that was really just to say that you can expect some new stuff from me soon lol.

I’m excited for this season and I was very positively impressed with S2! Expect some chaotic ramblings from me in the next few weeks 😅

[animeomegas]

Hey, can I ask a favor? I’m looking for some fics.

Ok so I really really love those ‘morning after’ scenarios yk, After you did It

Just the softness, pillow talk, cuddling, laughing ugh I just really love it

So I’m asking, do you know any fics like this, or have you written them? I can’t find anything and if I do find it, it’s sub!reader and that’s just annoying.

Thank you!

Hi! I don't really know if I can think of any morning after fics, I mainly write direct aftercare stuff, but I do have a short piece that I wrote for an original character of mine that's the morning after, if that interests you?

He's an original character from a story I started making a while ago for fun, but I don't mind posting this morning after scene for you!

Here you go, hopefully this scratches the itch! @kyrrless

Matthew awoke groggily, gently being tugged from sleep and into consciousness by something he couldn’t quite place with his sleepy mind. It only took him a few moments to realise that the world’s most annoying patch of sun was shining through the curtains and directly into his eyes.

He huffed and rolled over, the duvet feeling divine against his bare skin as he buried his face into his pillow. His body ached from last night, but in a pleasant and satisfied way that was slowly coaxing him back into the land of slumber, like the satisfied ache after a good stretch.

Matthew was warm and cosy but there was one thing his mind fixated on as missing from this perfect scenario. You.

He stretched a handout to the other side of the bed to search for you, but he found only cold sheets. He abruptly sat up, blinking dizzily at the empty space of bed beside him.

Oh. He was alone.

Embarrassment and shame curled in his gut. Of course, he was alone: you were a busy person with a busy schedule, and Matthew shouldn’t be surprised to find that you couldn’t wait around for him all day, even after the attention you’d lathered on him last night.

He shivered a little and tugged the duvet up towards his naked chest to fight the chill. Mentally, he shook himself. He was behaving like a child pining for attention. He just needed to get up and ready like a normal person, like you’d obviously done.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He had class in three hours anyway and he still needed to swing by his dorm to get his books.

Decision made, Matthew went to remove the duvet and stand, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking open slowly stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh!” you said, sliding into the room with a tray in hand. “You’re awake.”

Matthew blinked at you, hands fisted in his lap. You only smiled at his surprise, perhaps taking his mussed hair and bleary eyes as a sign that he wasn’t quite coherent yet.

“I know you have class later, but I went to the bakery down the road to get breakfast first,” your voice was soft, and a tension Matthew didn’t know he was holding melted away. You didn’t leave him here to go to work… you’d gone to get him breakfast. Affection burned through his chest.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Matthew said shyly, fiddling with his fingers. You lowered the tray to the foot of the bed, allowing him to see to-go cups filled with what smelt like hot chocolate and a bunch of pastries and muffins on little plates.

“I know,” you smiled, sliding up to him and cupping his face in your hands. They were cool against his heated skin. “But I wanted to.”

Matthew wasn’t sure where the desire came from, but before he knew it, he was pushing towards you, trading the cradling grip you had on his face for a more traditional embrace. And despite Matthews worries that you would push him away, you accepted the embrace with ease, the way you always did.

“You’re cold,” Mathew muttered, goosebumps covering his arms as he hugged your clothed body to his not-so-clothed one. He didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed by his state of undress when you were holding him so securely.

“I was outside,” you said back, breath tickling his skin. “You on the other hand are delightfully warm.”

You held the embrace in silence for a few more moments before attempting to pull back, but Matthew only tightened his grip, grumbling in dissatisfaction at the move.

“What’s wrong, Matthew?” you asked with a low voice, tracing meaningless patterns on his bare back. “Is everything okay?”

Humiliatingly, tears burnt at the back of his eyes, but he furiously blinked them away. He would not cry, absolutely not. He had cried more than enough on the day he’d first met you to last forever.

“’m fine,” Matthew mumbled into your shoulder.

“Sometimes I don’t always pick up on subtle emotions and I’ve definitely hurt people by accident because of that, so please tell me if there’s something wrong,” you said earnestly, pulling away from him to see his face. “If I’ve hurt you in some way-“

“No!” Matthew denied slightly too loudly. “No, I just…”

You waited patiently for him to finish. He wasn’t used to someone valuing his words so highly, so to see you wait for him rather than speak over him almost robbed him off his words. Thankfully he managed to squeeze them out, even if his face was probably a bright pink.

“I just missed you,” he mumbled.

Your face softened and you pulled him into another hug.

“I’m right here.”

“I know.”

You stayed like that for long enough that Matthew found himself dozing against your shoulder, the hazy morning vibes having returned full forced. That was probably why he jolted so much when you suddenly gasped and pulled away.

“The food! It’s going to get cold!”

You turned and messed around with the tray while Matthew rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes. You got so worked up over the smallest maters of comfort sometimes and it amused him greatly. He imagined you’d have a heart attack if he admitted to eating stale crisps and pickles for breakfast last week when he was running late for class.

You pushed the tray further up onto the bed, allowing space for you to slide into the space it had vacated. You looked up, mouth open like you were about to tell him something, but then you stopped and turned away, biting your lip.

Matthew blinked at the uncharacteristic bashfulness.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s ah-“ you waved a hand around in the vague direction of him, still averting your eyes, cheeks slowly turning pink. “The blanket, I think it’s, um, slipped a little.”

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as he instinctively looked down to his lap. And sure enough, the blanket was now pooled around his upper thighs, covering nothing that it was supposed to. With a yelp, he frantically yanked the duvet upwards, suddenly feeling the need to cover every inch of his skin from view.

Small chuckles escaped your mouth as you watched him. He glared at you.

“It’s not funny, I didn’t even know and-“

You burst into full on laughter, bending forward onto the bed for support.

“Stop laughing!”

Despite his protests, Matthew found small giggles slipping out of him too.

“You’re laughing too.”

“I am not!”

“You absolutely are.”

“Just- Shut up and eat a pastry!”

(Hopefully you enjoyed! If you have any questions about Matthew or the story, I'd be happy to answer them :) )

[stephdrawsjohnlock]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2023

Looking for a scene drawn for your story? A piece to help inspire you to write a fic? How about covers for your story with full print-ready Graphic Design service? Maybe a pinup, or some trading cards (up to 10)?? Maybe a gift for someone, or just your vision of a character(s) (up to 3 character sheets) for your AU?

Well, that’s just some of the stuff I’m willing to offer for this year’s @fandomtrumpshate​​ Charity Event! FTH is a WONDERFUL community project that supports amazing non-profits through donations for fanworks via  this wonderful annual event!

I am participating for my fourth year by offering 2 fanarts for y’all in either the BBC Sherlock, Good Omens, or Our Flag Means Death fandoms, starting at 25$ for the non-profit of your choice!

Here are some past FTH pieces I’ve done, if you’re interested in getting a custom art piece from me:

2020:

GO - :FTH 2020 – Lagniappe for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

GO - :FTH 2020 BONUS – Réveillon for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

2021

SH - :This Year: (FTH #1 for @discordantwords​​)

SH - :Burlesque Johnlock: (FTH #2 for @ohlooktheresabee​)

2022

SH – :A Quiet Moment: (FTH #1 for @totallysilvergirl)

SH – :Against the Wall: (FTH #2 for @anarfea)

And of course, you can browse all my art to see my range:

@stephdrawsjohnlock​​

stephdrawsfanart on Instagram

@stephratte​​ (Primary Multifandom Art ​Blog)

stephratte on deviantART

I will draw any ship from any of the above fandoms. All my work is done as a hi-res 12x12 print-ready piece in CMYK or RGB in Procreate. Traditional media (markers, India ink, and pencils) is also available if you prefer, done on illustration or marker paper at the paper’s size, with the option of acquiring the original if you choose. I will also do it at a requested size if you have a preferred format for something specific. Feel free to DM me if you have any questions.

The browsing begins on Feb. 26, and the bidding opens on March 1! I hope I once again get a chance to do a couple fantastic pieces for y’all!! I love doing this so much, so keep an eye out for my info post soon once it’s official!