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Plague AU Ch. 7

Just a little reminder!!!!! This is fiction, these boys in this particular AU are not any sort of relationship to strive for- my writing about these behaviors does not equate to me endorsing them. That said, please enjoy some drama lmao

Three days, three nights, a singular bowl of stew, seven bottles of wine, and a self loathing that doesn’t seem to find its way out of my bones.

I want to rot, just me and several loose pieces of parchment with new, poorly done, drawings of a man I regret missing. Drawings I’m sure will also serve as tender for the fire at a later date.

But I can’t simply remain here, a drunken mess of apathy, hunger, and abandoned desire. No, I must make my way into the world again- I’m out of wine.

Unfortunately, wine costs money, money is scarce now that I’ve been missing from work for thirteen days and… I really don’t have my pick of professions. I eye the plague doctor outfit, dreading the stuffy heat- nowhere near as much as I dread the possibility of seeing Donny. I sigh and set to my task, pulling on the ensemble and making my way into town.

It’s strange starting the day without the routine I’d gotten so used to, a daily dose of brightness in a person before I step into a world full of death. It’s even more off putting realizing how much I’d relied on him, helping me carry boxes, move patients, or generally acting like an extra set of hands. 

I catch myself starting to call his name out of habit, the beginnings of it falling from my mouth like a stone to the ground when I realize I should not. I spend most of the day working on my own, occasionally being assisted by another keeper- one who doesn’t know the ritual the way Donny does. He gets in the way, needs direction, doesn’t just act the way Donny would- I try not to give in to the frustration that finds itself settling into my blood. Then, as I’m instructing him on where to move supplies, I finally see Donny. I don’t think he even realizes I’m here, which is for the better, but the sight of him alone is an icy shock of adrenaline throughout my whole body- enough to make me stumble over my words and restart my sentence.  I can’t bring myself to drag my attention away from him, wonderment at his state tugging me into a steady flow of flaws in logic. It’s not going to hurt anything to observe from across the room, I just want to be sure he’s okay.

Except he glances over his shoulder, catching me staring at him. I shift my gaze away, hopeful that he’ll assume I’m just another plague doctor, that he won’t realize it’s me. All things considered, from a distance I should be strikingly unremarkable.

I hazard a glance back over- I would bristle like a startled cat if I had the ability to. His eyes are still locked onto me but now he’s considerably less cheerful. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the slight scowl that appears as he turns his attention elsewhere.

My heart clenches in my chest- not that I’d deluded myself into believing he’d suddenly forgive me and all would be well but… well, hope is a foolish thing, doesn’t understand its boundaries even with stern reminders. Hope and I share the same stupidity, in this instance.

Several days go by this way, no contact with each other and nothing but quick glances at the other. At this point, the keeper who had started filling Donny’s role is getting better at his job- able to easily carry out his duties without much direction.

This is when I start to notice a strange behavior in Donny, nearly scavenger-esque like a jackal in the way he waits to swoop in and take the work from the other keeper. I observe this behavior, finding a finite amusement in both the determination he displays, and the astonishment of the other man who is eager to work less.

So as Donny tries to make his way over as if he doesn’t care at all, I intercept. I step in stride beside him, not missing the tension in his demeanor as I do so. “What are you doing?” I ask casually, like nothing has happened, as if we’ve always only been coworkers.

He glares down at me and I enjoy the redness in his face, a true marker that I’ve gotten under his skin in some aspect. “My job. Remember? What we’re here to do.”

“I thought Michael took care of it quite well, wouldn’t you say?”

He makes no response, only looks ahead of him as he walks.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like Michael?”

“I have no opinion.”

“You wouldn’t be jealous, right?”

He stops abruptly, grip tightening on the handles of the box he holds. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well I’m just saying-”

“-you have no right.”

I hit the nail on the head, it seems. “Why be so touchy, then?”

He glances around him and places the box on the nearest table –too hard, it clatters loudly and I worry that something might’ve broken– then he turns to me with a fury I didn’t expect, nose wrinkled in disgust. “What do you want, Ha-”

I slap my hand over his mouth, sheer instinct and panic, the action preceded the adrenaline that spikes through my body. His eyes go wide for a fraction of a second, then he grabs my wrist and pulls it from his face, turning and marching with me in tow. I don’t have much option in this situation, wrenching from his grip would be impossible even on a day where he’s less irritated at me.

He pulls open a door, drawing me into a dim and abandoned hallway before slamming it shut behind us and shoving me in front of him. I stumble a few steps before turning to look at him, running a hand gently along the tender bruise that started along my wrist.

I didn’t realize how intimidating Donny was, not fully, not until now. He stands over me with a scowl across his face, fierce and steely. I feel adrenaline give way to sheer terror as I start to understand the situation I find myself in. “Why are you here?”

“I-I needed work.”

“So you come back? You come back and-” He sighs harshly, pulling my mask off and I gasp at the motion, watching helplessly as he throws it to the floor with a strange crackling sound– glass on cobble. “You come back here and stare at me all day? I’m just supposed to be okay being watched like that?”

I stumble over my words for a moment, taking a retreating step back. “I… didn’t mean to. I just… You’re hard not to watch.”

His glare softens slightly, calculation evident in the way his eyes flicker over me, measuring the weight of my words. He’s probably trying to decide if I’m honest or not. “Why is that?”

I swallow, flushing and staring down at my feet, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I don’t- you’re just interesting, I don’t know…”

“You need to find somewhere else to work. I’m not your damn experiment anymore.”

My heart clutches in my chest, a sickly-sharp pang of sadness resonates throughout my core. “No- I don’t- I can’t.” I look up at him again, feeling a familiar pull that hasn’t left me since the first time I’ve seen him, cursing the feeling. “Please don’t.”

He flinches slightly at this. “What, are you willing to admit I’m not just research anymore?”

I grit my teeth, fighting the rush of frustration that is prompted by the accusation. He was never simply research, but admitting to him is admitting to me– I don’t want to start down the same path as I’d walked before, let one person be the thing that causes everything to crumble. “I’ve never said anything different, I don’t know where-”

“We’re done. I’m not sitting around and being drawn for hours just for your fake science, I’m not willing to be lied to.” He turns and starts making his way back to the door and I grab at his wrist before he reaches it.

“Please! Donny!”

“What!?” He turns on his heel, pulling his arm from my grasp. “Goddamnit, what!?”

“I- I’m not just- it’s real science. I’m-” He turns away again and I feel the desperation welling up inside me, overflowing like water at a boil. “I burned them! I burned the drawings! I won’t draw you again!”

There’s a long silence before Donny looks down at me over his shoulder. His countenance shifts from the anger he’d felt to confusion, to sadness. “You… burned them?”

“Yes. I don’t- I don’t have any- I mean, none that you’d posed for. They’re gone.”

“Why would you do that?” There’s an edge of hurt in his tone now, I’m starting to question my choices.

“I- I didn’t- I thought you would be happy about that…”

“You’re right- nothing but research.” He steps through the door, not even bothering to close it behind him. I watch him walk away for a moment before I realize I’m not wearing my mask. I shove the door closed, turning and walking over to my mask, crouching beside it. When I pick it up I notice one of the eyepieces is cracked, spiderweb fractures dancing throughout it.

I sigh, fitting it back over my face and taking a moment to stand in the silence of the empty hallway.

I didn’t realize it’d hurt him the way it did. I feel like I should apologize but- why should I apologize for doing as I please with my own things? It’s not like he drew them.

I open the door, doing a quick scan of the room and realizing with a slight sinking feeling in my stomach that Donny is gone. I ask a nearby keeper where he went and she shrugs. “Home, I think. Didn’t really stop to talk to someone.”

I thank her and make my way to the box he’d placed on the table- a glass did break, there’s salt coating the bottom, shards of glass scattered throughout it. I bring the box back to the supply room – less of an official storage space and more of a small room with more than one cleared bookshelf– and start taking all the other containers out, placing them on shelves. I start picking glass out from the basket, placing the shards in a cloth I’d laid out to the side.

In hindsight, removing gloves to allow myself extra dexterity was not my brightest move. I should know better, now I’m staring down at a large slice cut into my fingertip and trying to grit my teeth through the intense burning of the salt. I swear roundly, several times, shaking my hand and clutching a fist with the other. Goddamn useless, shitty, day.

I wrap the wound in gauze, frustrated and feeling as if nothing good could possibly happen today.

I think, at this point, I need an early day as well.

I head outside, walking the familiar path, a pace that has purpose with it, fueled by emotion more than by energy.

When I get far enough away, I pull my mask off and allow the pain to finally hit in full. I walk off the path, down to the riverbed, and sit in the dirt. Here, I allow myself to cry. Not simply tearful, but wretched, in a way that makes me feel as if my lungs may burst, like I can’t find any air, like the world has completely closed in around me and I am left with my misery.

I sit on the riverbank until the sun sets, staring at the passing of time before my eyes, counting minutes by the number of clouds in the sky, then by how many stars appear.

Then I stand and continue on my way, walking on autopilot, not realizing until I’m there where my feet were carrying me.

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Childhood AU Prologue

Idk if you guys would want the first chapter to this, I'm considering publishing a lot of my wips that only have a chapter or two to maybe gain a little motivation to move them along.

Middle school sucks, especially when you’re moving to a crappy apartment in a new state because your dad died and your mom can’t pay the bills. I don’t hold it against her, obviously it’s not an easy time for either of us. She got offered a job here and she accepted, so now I’m the new kid showing up in the middle of the school year.

Which really means that school life hasn’t been easy so far. I’m a few weeks into it and I haven’t made any friends. I guess everyone already has their group, and I’m just here on the outside watching. It’s fine, meeting new people makes me nervous anyway, and I can always dig into a good book. It bothers me sometimes, like when I have nobody to eat with at lunch, but I’ve started practicing origami to keep my hands and mind busy. Mostly, though, I’m trying to fly under the radar. It’s much easier said than done, it feels like the spotlight is entirely on me at all times. Which is my problem right now. There are no empty tables today, and I’m standing with my lunchbox in my hands, a book, and nowhere to sit- I feel nauseous, like maybe I should just give up on lunch altogether. It’s not worth trying to sit with strangers, even if I have classes with them. I recognize a few kids, but they’re already with their friends and I’d be intruding. I sigh, glancing back towards the hallway. Maybe I just go sit somewhere quiet, where it’s not quite so overwhelming. I start heading that way, but a teacher stops me, telling me to stay in the lunchroom unless I need to go to the bathroom. I want to lie and say that I need to but at this point it would be obvious that I’m just trying to leave. “Do you want me to find you a seat?” She asks, looking out at the tables. “No! I mean- I’m okay.” She arches an eyebrow at me but returns to leaning against the door frame, watching the lunchroom. I try to get a little further from her sights, off toward a corner. Maybe I’ll just sit on the floor.

I look down at the shiny, cold, tile and sigh. It’s this or nothing, I guess. So I sit, back against the wall and with my legs crossed like a pretzel. I open my lunch and pull out the sandwich I’d made last night, taking a bite awkwardly. There’s a table of girls nearby, despite my trying to sit as far away from them as possible I’m still close enough to be noticed. One of the girls sneers at me, then says something to her friend on the other side of her, they burst into laughter. I feel my face flush hot instantly, I’m over exposed and they won’t stop looking over and laughing.

I throw my sandwich back in its bag, then into the lunchbox. I stand and start trying to put distance between us, clutching my lunchbox to my chest and walking briskly with my eyes fixed on the floor. I’m trying not to cry, the humiliation suffocating me like a thick cloud of hot steam. And then I run directly into someone, knocking his drink out of his hand. It splatters on the floor, splashing both of us in the soda that was within, it pools out of the can and he lets out a noise of frustration. “Dude!” My heart drops to the pit of my stomach and a rush of panic races through my body. I bend to try and pick it up quickly, to at least prevent the mess from getting bigger- apparently he had the same idea. Our heads smack together and he flinches back, putting a hand up on his forehead. “Fuck! Just- move.” I stumble back a few steps, he grabs the can and gives me a final look of annoyance. His friends are watching the spectacle from the table, exchanging questioning glances. “You okay?” One of them asks, peering at his forehead as he seats himself back at the table. “Yeah- just annoyed.” “He owes you another drink.” She replies, and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll just buy another one after school.” Another friend wrinkles her nose up at me. Leaning in and saying something to the group in a low voice so I can’t catch it. It processes a little too late that I’m just standing next to their table, listening to them. “I-I’m sorry-” The guy I originally ran into glances over and then turns away from me- I should leave. I do my best to keep my retreat at a dignified pace- trying not to look like I’m running away, despite the embarrassment that’s swallowing me whole. I’m starting to run out of corners of the lunch room to hide out in. I scan the room over again and accidentally make eye contact with my teacher. I give her a fake smile and a thumbs up, hoping she doesn’t see through it. I make my way to the corner and sit, focusing my attention down at my lap, trying to ignore the hot sting of tears, trying to let the humiliation die down.  I wish I could turn invisible. I wish nobody noticed me. It’s not like I’m trying to bother anyone, I just want to be left alone.

It’s that final thought that pulls the tears from my eyes, as I pull my knees up and huddle into myself to hide my face from the rest of the room. I hope they think I’m sleeping, or really anything but crying. I don’t want to be the weird kid who just sits by himself and cries- I know that’s who I am but I don’t want them thinking it.

I try to wipe my tears on my sleeves discreetly, sniffling and waiting for an eternity for the bell to ring so I can finally go to class. The best thing about assigned seating, I don’t have to play any social games, I just have a spot that’s mine every time.

“Are you okay?” I look up, a ginger-haired boy looks down at me with concern. This is exactly what I didn’t want.

I nod, trying to give him the same smile I’d given my teacher but he shakes his head.

“Why are you crying?” He sits down next to me- I scoot a little bit further from him.

“I’m not.” It’s obvious, I don’t know why I’m lying to him. Though, I guess the shock of being approached has completely stopped the crying, so maybe I’m not technically a liar. I rest my chin on my knees, wrapping my arms around my legs and watching the rest of the lunchroom.

“It’s okay. Sometimes I cry, too. School can be weird like that. There was one time where I exploded my pudding all inside my locker and I had to spend the entire lunch cleaning it up, it was all over everything! I was so upset, and I didn’t even get to eat lunch, so I was also hungry. You know what? I bet spiderman doesn’t spill his pudding everywhere. Do you like spiderman? He’s one of my favorites-”

I glance over at him, more confused now than put off by him. “What?”

“Oh, do you not know who spiderman is? That’s okay, I can explain! So there’s this comic book series-”

“No- I know who- how did you get spiderman from talking about pudding?”

“Uh- actually, I don’t really know. It just sorta popped into my head.”

I let out a small laugh. “For no reason?”

“Well, I guess I like him a lot?”

I stare at him for a moment and he smiles widely. “I’m Donny. Just so you don’t have to call me spiderman boy. That would be a lame nickname. But if you think of any good nicknames I need one! Donny is just the short version of my full name, so it’s not really an official nickname like if I called someone who was really good at homework ‘smart-guy’ or something, you know?”

Do I? He talks so fast- “Oh! Hey, we have the same shoes! Or, the same kind, they’re different colors.” He kicks his foot out and laughs. “But that doesn't matter! It’s like we were meant to be friends!”

Friends? He’s already made up his mind and I’ve hardly had to say anything at all. “Oh- I-I guess.”

“You know what we should do? We should switch shoe laces, so you’ll have a blue one and I’ll have a green one.”

“Uh- why would we do that?”

“For fun, why not? Wouldn’t it be cool?”

“Uh- sure, I guess.”

“Great!” He leans over and starts untying his shoe.

“Oh! Right now!? In the lunchroom?”

He freezes, looking over at me. “Yeah?”

“Won’t- won’t people think it’s weird?”

“I hope they do! Good! Weird is great!”

I laugh again, the self-assurance makes me feel a little bit better. “Well, alright then. Sure.”

I start pulling the laces off my shoe, he’d chosen his left so I choose my right, and we swap.

And just like that, I’ve found myself a best friend. 

[yellowsticky-notes]

Plague AU Ch. 8

This is mature content :)

The last person I’d expected to see tonight, or maybe the last person I wanted to see, stands in front of me. I glare down at him, separated by nothing but the threshold. 

“Now you’re at my house.” I can’t stop the venom from dripping out of my words, harsh distaste for the entire situation. He can’t just leave me alone, he has to follow me everywhere I go.

“I-I know I just- I have to talk to you.”

“We’ve talked plenty.” I go to shut the door but he squeezes inside like a snake. He slips through with a speed and agility that, quite frankly, surprises me. I’d be impressed if it were anyone else, but I’m currently annoyed.

“Please!” He clutches at the collar of my shirt with a desperation that startles me, causing me to retreat a step, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Get off of me.” I try to say it calmly, try to keep the harsh tones out of my voice, fighting the adrenaline-anger that’s starting to course through my blood in white hot fury once again.

“No. Not until you listen to me.” His grip tightens as I try to step away again, now I grab at his hands, attempting to wrench them open.

“Why do I want to listen to a liar!? It isn’t enough that you’re at my job? You hunt me down at home too? I’ve met less annoying mosquitoes.”

He stumbles forward, fighting my attempts to dislodge him, I step back again and the heel of my foot catches on a rug.

I fall backwards, clumsily, not catching myself on the nearby table by a hair's width and slamming against the ground with a hefty grunt. He lands on top of me, placing both hands on my shoulders and straddling me.

He smirks down at me, irritating in the expression of dumb confidence. “Now you have to listen!” 

I simply laugh. “You think I can’t just-“ I grab him by the waist, tossing him aside and sitting on top of him, my hands landing on either side of his head so I’m looking down at him. “Fix that problem?”

Except as I glare down at him, he blushes up at me, wide eyes and quick breaths giving him away a bit too clearly. 

“I-I guess you could.” He admits, gaze wandering over me for a brief moment— lord, have mercy on my restraint. “I couldn’t dream of beating you in a contest of strength.”

“Not at all.” I try to ignore the honey-tone he imposes into his voice, pushing away thoughts of the last time we were in a compromised position.

“So I won’t try.” 

Then he pulls a hand up, running his fingertips along my arm, to my neck. This is a feeling I should be used to, but at this moment I shudder under the touch. Electricity flickers through me as he leans upward as best he can, and whispers in my ear.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy.” 

There’s only so much a man can do before rational thought fails him entirely. I push him back down to the floor, taking in the sight of his mischievous smile, before leaning down and kissing him. 

It’s like an avalanche, unavoidable, how one small action suddenly spirals out of control and gains momentum. A small lack of judgement and a singular kiss turns into a desperate moan into his mouth as his hands wander down to my hips– he grabs at me as if he’s trying to rip my flesh from my bones. If I were to look into the eyes of a starving wolf I’d find more restraint, less savage desire, than I do looking into Harvey’s. He breathes a laugh, joy in his chaos, before sinking his teeth into my shoulder. The sting of it sends a thrill through me, a sensation I nearly beg for– I do beg for, gasped and frenzied pleas pouring off my lips before I can stop them. He grins at me, sparks of deviousness alight in his eyes as he tugs at my shirt– I assist in its removal and he hums his approval, meeting my eyes, catching my face in his hands. “Gorgeous.” He practically purrs the word out, my breathing falters and he scrapes his teeth over my collarbone. “I’m going to need you to ask again.” I swallow, recognizing the challenge in his voice, the way he seems to constantly want the upperhand. It’s impossible not to give it to him when he’s running his tongue along my throat. The words come out between gasps, reactions to his every move– his hands that have started to wander. “Please- I need-” My words are cut short as he utters a soft exclamation, clearly pleased with my compliance, and he bites into my bicep. “Wonderful-” He mutters up at me, kissing the mark he just left. “Now, mon cheri-” He pushes me slightly, directing me to lay on my back. When I do this, he climbs on top of me, trailing kisses and nibbles down my chest and stomach– each time I let out any sort of sound, utterance of pleasure, thankful word, he leaves a new bite mark. This devolves into a depraved game where neither of us win, neither of us lose, but the goal is to play as long as possible. The goal, through the haze of desire that’s overwhelmed me, is to prolong the pleasure. Every part of me begs for more of this, the way his hands brush along my thigh, the reverence he displays as he removes each article of clothing, the beauty that is him removing his own.

I love the way he looks on top of me, slender lines and beautiful, lightly freckled skin. I want to touch him, rub my hands along his body, listen to the soft hum of pleasure as my hands wrap around his waist. I soak it in, committing everything to memory the best I can, the dim flicker of firelight dancing over him, the beautiful depth of brown curls that fall over his eyes as he stares down at me.

A hazy dream, something that could dissipate if I lose focus, so I keep all my attention fixated on him. I want to be devoured by it, consumed whole, revel in the carnage, dance in it.

In the bloody aftermath of it all, my final words would still be thank you.

I repeat them, near constantly, worshipping a body that must belong to a holy creature, and losing myself in awe as he returns the praise— muttering about how good I’m being for him. I agree in a stupor, mindless for how entranced I’ve become by him, and find my head reeling as he moves himself down to my hips, kissing my thighs and smiling up at me. 

When he trails his tongue along the inside of my thigh I can hardly help the sounds that escape me, animalistic and heavy with want. He chuckles before biting into the soft flesh there, gripping his fingertips into my hips, and I nearly choke on the gasp it elicits. 

He moves smoothly, shifting his weight in such a graceful action I’m reminded of a wildcat stalking prey, running his tongue along my hips, eyeing me, waiting for me to beg for the thing I want so badly. 

“I’m right here.” He says, his breath hot against my skin, lips brushing against me as he speaks. “What do you want?”

“You.” 

He hesitates for a moment, giving me a sudden soft and open expression. “Yes- in what way?”

“In every way you could possibly think of.” 

The way he speaks now is soft, delicate, filled to the brim with gentle emotion. “Beau gosse.” Handsome boy. He maneuvers himself, straddling my hips, and leans down to kiss me. It’s far less feverish this time, a slow gentle kind of kiss that lulls you into it— like a boat on a calm sea, relaxed, like we have all the time in the world. “Then you shall have me.”

The evening rolls on like this— some sort of ebb and flow between soft moments of adoration and more passionate moments where I find myself entirely at his whims. I always have been, in one way or another.

I’m enraptured by him, the way he moans praises into my ear—each one a new electric-shock of pleasant sensation—the way my fingertips leave bruises in his hips at his request, the feeling of him around me as he demands more. 

And in the end, I’m fully captivated by the calm, the way he lays his head on my chest, kissing the salt off my skin gently with light laughter, commenting on how we should probably bathe. He’s different like this, tamed, much less a starving wolf—a sleepy dog by the fire, settled in as if it’s known this hearth its whole life. 

As we lay like this, I feel myself drifting into rest, eyes struggling to stay open. Things feel correct, comfortable, he slots into my arms like they were made for him, and all else does not matter anymore.

So I allow slumber to take me.

I regret it.

When I open my eyes again it’s cold. The morning is bathed in the blue light of dawn, the fire has gone out, and I am alone. I am empty, used and tossed aside, abandoned.

My soul feels hollow and I suddenly feel as if I’m tainted, some dirty and disgusting thing- not even worthy of a farewell.

We didn’t even talk anything through.

I stand and start getting dressed, drowning in the silence of distant birdsong, the sound of the rest of the world waking up. 

I look down at myself and feel sick, tracing a fingertip over the bruised bite marks that mar my skin. I thought, in the moment, that they’d bring me some sort of mischievous joy—concealing such things and feeling like we’re getting away with something, together—but now I am simply aching.

I suddenly don’t feel much like going into work. 

I make my way to the bed, pulling blankets over myself, and try to shut out the world around me. I make a futile attempt at sleep but my mind is too loud to let me drift, thinking about all the ways I’ve been foolish. 

What kind of man gives in so easily? I should’ve known better, I’m nothing but naïve. He’d refused to acknowledge any feelings, why did I let him get under my skin? Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

The most frustrating part of this whole ordeal is that no matter what, I can’t undo what we did. I can’t forget it, I can’t unhear the things he’d called me, the sweetness in his voice.

I have to keep reminding myself that it’s all an act, he’s done it to get what he wanted from me and now that he’s gotten it he’s gone.

Maybe he’ll leave me alone for good.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to will myself to go numb, trying to chase away rogue thoughts. They come anyway, phantom feelings and sounds, the memory of him moaning my name and the way I’d fallen apart for him being far too strongly settled into my mind. 

So I give in, thinking through the entire thing, missing it, wishing for more, wishing for none at all, eventually being startled awake by the sound of a knock on the door. It’s evening already, I must’ve slept all day. 

Déjà vu clouds my mind as I go to answer the door, tired and still half in my dreams. 

Another round of Déjà vu hits when I see who’s standing on the other side, far less dejected than last night, with a look of concern and… a bundle in his hands. 

“You weren’t at work today.” He says, holding out the bundle to me. “I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well- I got worried.”

“Why would you care if I was unwell?” The defensiveness is still there, frustration at him for the confusing situation we’re in.

“I’m not sure what I’d do if you got the plague.” He says, furrowing his brow. “Can I come in?” 

“Harvey, I- I don’t know. I don’t know if this is a good idea. You’re… we haven’t talked about anything and- and then last night and you were just- gone.” 

He lowers his hands, accepting that I’m not taking whatever he’s offering me. “Well- I didn’t think- I didn’t know that’d bother you.”

There’s a long silence where I fight back the tears that sting at my eyes. “It did. It does. I’m not- I’m not some kind of… toy. You don’t get to set me down and pick me up at your leisure.” 

“I didn’t intend to do that.”

And through it all, it’s not an apology. He’s defending himself, but never just saying sorry.

“That’s… not enough. You should go.”

He stares at me, cold and unfeeling, like a stone pillar. “Okay. If that’s what you want. I made you some food, in case you were sick.” He sets the bundle down in the stoop. “You can keep… everything.” He turns and pulls his mask on before walking away without another word. 

I feel like kicking his food into the dirt, or throwing it at him, but I simply grab it and bring it inside. I unwrap the bundle and find he packed wine, cheese, bread, and soup. 

I sit at my table and stare at the spread for a moment before I finally lay my head in my arms and allow myself to cry. It feels pitiful. It was my fault I turned him away, I didn’t have to but- he hurts.

I’m not sure there’s any way to fix that.

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Childhood AU Ch 1.

“Come on! You can do it!” Donny calls from the branches of a large tree, leaning down, gripping on to one and holding his hand out. “Here! Just make it far enough to grab my hand and I’ll help you up!”

“I don’t think I was made for this!” I call through huffs of effort as I grab onto the next branch, hauling myself up onto it and taking a moment to catch my breath. Donny laughs. “You think I was? Look at me!” I give him a questioning glance. “You’re the one up there.” “I’m the one that looks like the Pillsbury dough boy.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Shut up! You do not!” I pull myself closer, finally grabbing onto his hand and he helps pull me onto the thicker branch where he sits. He shrugs. “That’s what mom says, but she also says I’ll grow out of it once I start doing sports.” “That’s a mean thing to say, Donny.” He furrows his brows, giving me a confused look. “Not really? I mean- it sounds that way but you don’t know her like that, she doesn’t mean it that way.” I’ve been to his house a few times, his mom is rough- usually yelling at him or his sister over unfinished chores or being too loud. When his dad is home she’s either fighting with him or gone. 

“Well- you don’t look like that, either way.” He flashes me his usual, carefree grin. “I’m not worried about it! Anyway, we’re almost there, we’ve just gotta get a few feet higher and we’ll be able to see it.” “It better be as cool as you say it is.” “I promise.” We start climbing again, finally reaching as near to the top of the tree as we can. He points and I squint out to the distance- he’s right. Someone’s building a castle out past the park. “Woah!” I lean forward, squinting and trying to take in more detail. “It looks huge!” “I wanna go see it, but it’s so far.” I nod. “Yeah, we’d have to get your mom to drive us.” “She won’t, she doesn’t like that park.” “Why not?” He shrugs. “There’s one closer so why would she go all the way out there?” “Maybe we could take a day and walk. Bring snacks, something to drink… I wish I had a bike, too, it would be easier that way.” I don’t realize where my footing is, when I shift to look back at him I slip. There’s a long second where all I can think is I’m going to die- then everything goes too fast for me to process as I tumble downward through the branches. I try to grab on to them, find one that can catch me, but several snap with the force of my fall. There’s a strangely dull thudding noise, the wind gets knocked out of me, and I hear Donny screaming from the top of the tree. I try to keep my eyes open, I can’t tell if they’re blurry because my glasses are gone or from how hard I hit the ground, but eventually I can’t control it anymore and I slip into darkness.

I have to force them back open, struggling to regain control of my brain. Once I’ve managed it, though, my other senses seem to follow suit, restarting with a slow fade in. I recognize an extremely familiar sound, ma crying. I turn my head to the side and she grabs my hand. “Harvey! Honey, you’re-” She takes a break for a moment to sniffle, stifling her tears. “You’re in the hospital.” I try to respond, but my mouth is so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of it. I just stare at her, hoping she’ll understand that I understand. “You had a pretty big fall, but you’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” It’s more like she’s reassuring herself than she is me, as she repeats it a few more times. Eventually I fall back asleep.

When I wake up again I feel a little less groggy, sitting up and looking over to my right- instead of ma, Donny is sitting in the chair next to my bed. He looks up as I move, letting out an excited gasp. “Hey! I’m glad you’re awake!” I nod, still not feeling like speaking with how thirsty I am. I gesture for a cup. “Oh, dad asked the nurse earlier, they said while you’re waking up you shouldn’t have a cup cause you’ll be groggy but they have this sponge on a stick thingy-” He holds it up. “Sponge water!” I take it from him, thankful for anything I can get at this point. A few passes like this and I finally feel like I can talk without rasping. “Thanks Donny- your dads here?” “Yeah, he let me skip school. Mom wasn’t happy about it but I promised I’d work extra hard so I don’t get behind.” “I’m sorry.” “You shouldn’t be! If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. The tree was my stupid idea.” “I still have my own brain, not like you made me.” “I still feel bad.” “It’s alright- not like you knew. It was kinda stupid of me not to look at what I was doing anyway.” “At least you’re okay though. I thought you were going to be dead when I was climbing down.”

“Ugh- I thought so too… We missed the history quiz.” He laughs. “Good, I didn’t study.” “Mrs Brooks is going to make you take it tomorrow.” “Oh well. You’re more important.” I grin at him, laughing lightly- which sends pain through my body, but I ignore it. “Don’t let your mom hear that.” “She’d kill me, for sure.” The door to the room swings open, Donny’s dad and my mom step into the room. “Donny, we’ve gotta go home.” He says, giving me a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, Harvey. I hope you get better soon.” Donny stands up, only to be ushered to the door by his dad with a hand between his shoulder blades. “Uh- bye Harvey!” “I’ll see you tomorrow!” I wave at him just before the door closes behind them. Ma stands next to the bed, fretting over my injuries- checking them, though I don’t think she’s actually supposed to do that if I’m not her patient. “Ma, I’m fine!”  She huffs out a breath, stepping back and looking at me with teary eyes. “Do you know what could’ve happened to you? You could’ve died!” “But I’m okay! I promise!” “You- They brought you here and I was on shift and nobody would tell me what was going on. I thought you-” He voice breaks and she begins crying again. “Harvey, I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not you. You’re my rock.”

Guilt piles up in my stomach, I avoid her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” “No, you won’t. I shouldn’t have let you run all over god's green earth on your own like that- Sal and Christy didn’t keep an eye on you and I almost lost you for good.”

“It wasn’t their fault-” “-I know you see it that way but you’re not an adult, honey. They’re responsible for you when you’re over there and they let you get hurt.” “But-” “-I told Sal you and Donny won’t be playing together any more.” “What?! Ma!” Instantly, tears spring into my eyes. “No! Please don’t! He’s my best friend!” “He’s a bad influence.” “He didn’t do anything wrong!” “Harvey, I said no!” She snaps at me and I find myself going quiet. She sighs, slumping into the chair and rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry- I’m doing what’s best for you. I’m trying my hardest here, bud… I’m doing it on my own.” I hate seeing her stress like this, I hate when she feels like she’s failing me. I know she's doing her best, and I’m just stressing her out by fighting. I wipe my tears away and take a breath, trying to swallow down the misery. “I know… you’re doing good, ma.” She gives me a grim smile and grabs my hand. “You know I love you, right? I’ll always love you.” “I know, I love you, too.” It’s not the first time, it probably won’t be the last time, but I’m saying it out of habit more than feelings. Trying to fix her, take away the stress I’m causing. “Can I go home today, though?” She smiles at me, the tension leaving her. “Yeah. I’ll go ask when we can leave.” She stands and relinquishes her grip on my hand. It isn’t until I get home and into my bedroom, hours later, that I finally let myself cry about Donny. It hurts, my head throbs and my ribs send searing pain through me, but the sadness of knowing I won’t be allowed to be his friend anymore aches deeper than the physical wounds.

The hours pass and I remain in my room, wallowing. Ma calls me to dinner and I tell her I’m not hungry, even after she insists I come out to eat, I just tell her I’m too tired to. She sighs and closes my door again, I hear her turn on the tv and start watching some sitcom. 

I lay on my back and listen to cheesy dialogue and laugh tracks, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to tell Donny tomorrow.

Eventually I fall asleep, when I get up in the morning ma has already left for work. A note on the counter catches my attention, ‘come straight home from school and be sure to lock the door.’ I sigh, picking it up and crumpling it in my frustration.

I hate sitting here by myself, cleaning, cooking, and pretending I’m not home when someone knocks on the door. Donny had been an escape from it, an excuse to get away from the sounds of fighting neighbors that scare me, from the shouting of someone on the street, from loud bangs that I swear are gunshots. 

But what else am I supposed to do? I don’t want to cause trouble, I don’t think ma could handle the stress. It’s already bad enough as it is.

I grab my backpack from beside the door, checking that I have my keys, and lock up behind me before heading to school. Donny is waiting for me outside, as usual. “Hey! How are you feeling? I’m so glad you’re here, I was worried I’d have to deal with Mrs Brooks by myself.”  “It’s not like you skipped class, your dad called the school right?” “Yeah but I feel like she’s always mad at me.” “That’s cause you goof off.” He shrugs. “If it’s boring, it’s boring.” “Then don’t complain when she’s mad that you’re not listening.” “Okay, I should’ve known better than to try and get you to sympathize with me.” “What does that mean!?” “Teacher's pet.” He teases, nudging against me and laughing. “Of course you’d take her side, you’re mister perfect.” “Oh, shut up! I just understand why she’s like that, is all.” “Okay, whatever you say.” He starts toward the doors. “Let’s go before we’re late.” I know I have to tell him. Eventually I will, but I don’t want to think about it right now, and I don’t want to tell him while he’s cramming for the test retake. We have until lunch time. After that, I can tell him while we eat. But when the time comes, and we’re sitting in the too-loud cafeteria, I can’t bring myself to broach the subject. It’s Donny who ends up pushing the conversation to a point where I need to say something. “When you’re over today I’ll show you the new secret I found about the game- it’s really cool, there's this hidden area-” “Donny, I can’t come over.” I feel nauseous saying it.

“Oh. Well, okay, tomorrow then.” “No, I mean- my mom said we can’t hang out anymore.” “What?!” “Yeah… I guess we’re just stuck hanging out at school.” “No! That’s not fair! Why?” “Uh-” I’d rather not say, I know he feels bad for me falling in the first place. “I don’t know, she’s just… being unreasonable.” “It’s because of the tree thing, isn’t it?” I look down at the table, staring at my mostly-uneaten sandwich. “Yeah.” “That’s not fair though! You’re okay! And you shouldn’t be grounded because of me! It’s my fault!” “I’m- I’m not grounded. She thinks you’re a bad influence.” He stares at me, jaw dropped. “What?” “She thinks I’d never do something like that… if it weren’t for… you.”  “... do you think that?”

“What!? No! Of course not!”

“It’s just… I had to talk you into it and… I mean-”

“No, don’t even go there. It was still my choice. Anyway, it’s not like I died.”

He sighs and slumps down a little. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well- you’ve got other friends, don’t you?”

“But they’re not my best friend! What if I came over and convinced her?”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? She’s gotta at least listen, she can’t just ban us from hanging out forever.”

“I really don’t think she’d like it, it might make her more mad.”

“Okay well… I guess I hope she changes her mind soon, then.”

“Me too.”

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I LOVE that harvey does aerobics 😭😭 Hes so cute in his outfit i cannnt💚💚

(zoom in for better quality :])

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Dodle Harvey loves his Eden keychain 😭💖💚💙

:)♡

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Hiiii new post because I finished the second part mwahahhaha

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HELLO TUMBLR I BRING ANOTHER STARDEW POST FEATURING MORE LAN!! HUZZAH

[yellowsticky-notes]

Hotel Room One Shot

Hey guys! I did a little bit of a spicier rewrite of one of my chapters from Aura of Life and decided maybe to just post it here for fun. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip this one. Though, I will say, it fades to black so I would rate this mature but not explicit. As always Donny belongs to @tuna-jsgross

We stumble our way into the hotel, giggling and dancing our way down the hallways to our room. We’d taken a cab, leaving the truck in the parking lot of the restaurant, and now we’re ready to retire for the evening. 

Donny’s loosened his tie, unbuttoned a few buttons off the top of his shirt, and his hair has fallen loose of the gel’s feeble attempts to hold it in a slicked-back style. All things considered, even in his mussed state, Donny looks lovely in formal wear. 

“I should ask you to dress like this more often.” I coo at him, pulling his tie completely undone with a gentle swoosh of the fabric and tossing it over his shoulder. He grins down at me, lopsided, blushing, and full of roguishness. 

“Yeah? It’s not my favorite but if you like it I guess it wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Oh, ‘like it’ is an understatement- I could stare at you all night. I think I just did, actually.” 

He laughs, pulling an arm around me and unlocking the door to our room. “You love to stare when you’re drunk.”

“Because you’re intoxicating- the most handsome man in the world.” 

He opens the door and I gesture widely for him to enter. 

“Dork- you’re going to give me a big head.”

“Never. You can’t call it an ego if it's a simple fact.”

“Flatterer.” He states as he loosens my tie, pulling it off and placing it aside. A moment later, his joins it, pulled off his shoulder and tossed with far less care than mine. “How do I get more of that to happen?”

I pull his jacket off his shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek as I do. “Just keep being how you are, I can’t help it.” 

“Can’t help it, now?”

“I mean- look at you-” I gesture at him, he flushes slightly- but his grin does not fade in the least. I turn and hang his coat in the closet, taking mine off and hanging it next to his. The size difference is almost laughable. 

“I say it a lot but I love you- you don’t understand.”

I laugh now, turning back to fix him with a look. “Whatever do you mean? Like I don’t feel the same? I’m also quite enraptured, remember?” 

“Mm, but I think it’s impossible for you to understand how I feel, anyway.” He walks over and grabs me by the waist, pulling me close and giving me a kiss. I’m unsure, entirely, if my head spins because of the dopamine or because of the alcohol. I hear myself giggle, pulling him back in by the collar of his shirt. I’m not particularly concerned with the details of the cause of my joy at the moment.

He picks me up, the same as when we’d had our first kiss, my stomach does a flip of excitement and for a moment I forget all else as I wrap my legs around his waist-

Until there’s a loud thud and I realize a few moments after that it was the sound of my head hitting the wall- I only process it by the way Donny is apologizing and asking if I’m okay. 

“This seems to be a rough ride.” I comment, intertwining my finger through one of his loose waves, curling the strand around it. “I’m not sure if I trust the driver anymore.”

He laughs gently, burying his head into my neck, bracing himself against the wall. The whiskers of his beard tickle, sending goosebumps across my flesh. I do my best to hold back the giddy laughter from it. 

“Sorry. Are you okay? Really.”

“Yes, I’m fine. But perhaps we aren’t sober enough for that- as much as I like being tossed around.”

“I’m very invested in you enjoying being thrown around, Harv.” He teases with an arched eyebrow.

This causes the blood to rush to my face, the tone of his voice catches me off guard. “Yeah, well, what if I want to do what you like?”

“Me.” He draws back and meets my gaze. “Easy answer, do me.”

I laugh, full bodied and joyful, appreciating the gleam in his eyes when I react this way to him. “Yeah? What do you want me to do with you?”

He thinks for a moment, studying my face, then pulls me away from the wall and tosses me onto the bed- I can’t lie and say I’m not impressed by the sheer strength it takes to do such a thing, that I’m not attracted to it. He sits down and starts taking off his shoes, chucking one and then the other before laying down with me. “I like being able to be close to you, to hold you, to kiss you- I like it when you do those things first.” “What else?” I kick my shoes off, Donny’s eyes track the motion before wandering back up to my face.

“Well-.” He takes a slow and deep breath in, looking over me again with a spark of heat. The rest of his response is murmured in a low and bassy tone. “I want you to touch me, make me lose my damn mind.”

He pulls me close and I find myself running my hands along his arms. I’m captivated by the subtle shifting of muscles under my fingertips, frustrated by the fabric which folds and catches as I try to etch the lines of them. “Do you need this?” I tug at the sleeve and his eyebrows shoot up. “I hope not.” He sits up, starts undoing the next button on his shirt. I sit up with him, pull his hand away and take over the task for him- kneeling as I work on the buttons. “You know… I find the human body fascinating. It’s amazing how we function, move, breathe-” I glance up to meet his eyes, the redness on his face betraying nerves in equal measure. I pull the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside and pressing my palm against his chest- feeling his too-fast heartbeat in rhythm with mine. “And- I like knowing that I’m the reason your heart is beating like this.”  

I trail my hands up, gently pulling him toward me for a kiss, reveling in the way his breath hitches as I brush fingertips along his jugular vein to the back of his jaw. 

His lips meet mine and I can’t help the smile that forms on my face as they do, delight being such a simple concept in the moment- but how it ever existed without him, I do not know.

He brings his hand up to my neck and pulls me closer, starving for more as if the kiss will never be enough. In this particular instance, I agree. 

Somewhere within this exchange, I find myself wandering. My hands glide over beautiful skin and I enjoy the way Donny seems to melt into my touch, breathing a soft hum of approval as I move. 

He pulls away suddenly and starts to kiss my neck, a gesture that sends my head reeling, the feeling of wet, open kisses on my skin is nearly too much to bear. 

He works on the buttons of my shirt at the same time- fumbling, slightly, until I impatiently tell him to just rip the damn thing open. He glances at me questioningly, but then simply chuckles and obliges. The buttons fly off in a cacophony and he slides the shirt off my shoulders freely, kissing along my clavicles as he does.

Then he falls onto his back, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me with him so my hands rest on either side of his head and I’m straddling his hips. I smile down at him for a moment, then grind my hips into his. He moans loudly, throwing his head back and flushing deeper, a sight and sound that I enjoy to its fullest before I move on.

I start kissing a trail down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, arching my back as I move lower, pulling myself further back on my knees. I glance up at Donny as I do this, loving the way his eyes are following me in reverent hunger. 

I giggle, feeling the rush of joy from the look of anticipation on his face, and sink my teeth into his chest. Once again, Donny moans for me, spitting out a swear and gripping at the blankets- being more worked up the longer I take.

So I take my time, breathing over his skin and whispering soft proclamations about his beauty, the way I adore him, the way I love how he sounds- I mean every word of it and he damn well knows it. Each word hits him in full, a new rush of sensation, another hitched breath, another exclamation of how much I’m driving him insane.

But we both know he won’t do anything about it until he’s on the edge of desire- this is the game we play. 

So I begin describing in detail the nerves that run along his arms, tracing them softly with kisses before graduating to discussing the science behind endorphins. 

I demonstrate this by gifting him several bite marks along his sides and hips, explaining his pain threshold to him as he writhes under me begging me to stop teasing him.

I answer this by sliding my fingers along his waistband, slowly unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down and off of him. The underwear follows suit without much ceremony. I can tell by Donny’s breathing that he’s sure that I’m done now, he feels relief in the finality of the movement- so I trace a trail back up his body with my tongue, gently kissing along the way and muttering how he’s been so good for waiting so long. 

But he’s growing frustrated with the waiting, the way I’ve pulled every trick I possibly can to make him want this more than he’s ever wanted anything, and when I look back into his eyes all I see is an all consuming, lust-sodden, darkened gaze. 

So mercy, it is -as if I’m not on the edge of teetering over into animalistic carnality anyway- I hurry to dispose of my own clothing, tossing them off to the side and relishing the feeling of flesh against flesh. 

Donny’s hands glide down my back, warm and heavy and beautifully large in the way they nearly encapsulate my hips entirely when he grabs them. 

Now it’s my turn to plead with him, leaning down and savoring a kiss that’s as much lust as it is appreciation, when I pull away I breathe out a simple ‘please.’ 

It’s enough for him, he fumbles a bottle of lube and I feel a shock of anticipation heatwave through my body- a moment passes before Donny gives me a nod, I kiss him again, and with an utterance of “good boy” said more like a song than a gasp of pleasure, I lower myself onto him.

[yellowsticky-notes]

a participation drawing for #tuna60k on instagram :)) this is for the harvey and donny fans out there ‼️

(@/betablindspots on instagram for bg inspo!)

(/@tuna_jsgross on instagram and @/tuna-jsgross on tumblr)

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Plague AU Ch 6.

This is a POV switch :)

At first glance there is a yearning, one that carries me toward him without thought. Three lengthy strides, a hand in the beginnings of reaching out toward him as if all other troubles have been swept aside by his sudden appearance. But before I reach my destination, grab him by the hands and let my reservations crumble to dust, my eyes fall on the sketchbook held within them.

I stop short- my stomach churning in a sudden anxiety, anger, irrationality. He’s in my home, why is he here? Why did he show up while I was gone? Why did he take it upon himself to search through my things? Logic cuts through all delusions, excitement, any part of me that would’ve been happy to see him.

“What- what are you doing?” My eyes will not leave the book in his hands, as if I’m being pulled into the way his calloused fingers wrap around the edges of the page. Rough with something far too delicate, like the book may tear apart just by being held by him. “Why do you- that’s my-“ I swallow, stepping forward and reaching for the sketchbook.

He pulls away. My eyes snap up to meet his and he looks almost as shocked as I feel. 

“Donald- give that back!” I reach again and he dodges again. I become aware of the fact that I’m shaking now, anger feeling as if it’s gnawing at my bones. “Don-“

He furrows his brow suddenly, demeanor shifting from a dazed shock to frustration. “Why?”

“Because it’s mi-“

“No! You know what I’m asking! Why!?”

“You’re being childish! Just-“ I reach once again and he lifts the sketchbook into the air, far out of my reach. 

As if it’s not enough of a absurd gesture to be in my home in the first place, as if it wasn’t enough to look through the one thing I know for a fact he knew I didn’t want him to see- now he’s leveraging his physical attributes against me, keeping one of my most beloved possessions out of my grasp. 

I start to grab at his arm, trying to bring it within reach. The damn man is so muscular he barely moves at all,  a wall of strength and defiance staring down at me with a growing agitation.

“You said you were afraid I’d abandon the project-” “I’m not talking about this-” “You are and I’m not giving this back-” He shifts, his weight uneven enough for just the right amount of time for me to cause him to stumble slightly. He lets out a sharp swear as his reach dips for a moment and I reach with my other hand. He grabs my wrist with his one free hand, shuffling slightly so I have to adjust my footing or fall, letting out a small sound of effort. I shuffle back slightly, wrenching against his grasp on my wrist- to no avail, not that either one of us would be surprised at that result. “Let me go!” I pull back with my full body weight, feeling his grip tighten on my wrist slightly. “Stop trying to fight me! I just want answers!” At this point, I must admit, rationality has abandoned me. The sheer frustration at the situation has created a strong resistance to reason, I don’t want to concede and admit defeat. I don’t want to give him the damned satisfaction. I glare up at him, satisfied at my flustering him being evidenced in the flush on his face and how his eyes widen slightly. “What a shame, I won’t give them.” He sets his jaw, taking pause to give me a withering look of frustration. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” I reach for the notebook with my free hand again, trying to push myself into him and knock him off balance enough to gain some sort of advantage- he stumbles back a step before sighing and grabbing that wrist in his free hand as well. He spins slightly, stepping forward with my hands held above my head. I try to keep the space between us, attempting to hold my pride despite the obvious loss I’m suffering. 

I step back several paces in time with his advance before I feel my back land flush against the wall. He pins my wrists up against it, leaning into my space. I stare up at him, suddenly feeling entirely out of my depth. My eyes linger on the sketchbook for a moment before meeting his again and I have to swallow back my nerves. “Are you ready to give up?” He asks, something in his tone far less hostile and perhaps more tired. “No. I didn’t do anything wrong.” “That’s what you think?” He scoffs, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Your hypocrisy is insufferable.” “Then why come back!? Let it be!” He leans closer, mere inches away from my face. “Because-” There’s a moment of hesitation, he struggles with a few words before forcing out a low “you’re driving me insane.” It's at this instant that my body seems to catch up to the situation, suddenly I’m aware of his grip on my wrists, the warmth of his rough hands, the fact that he’s not holding me tightly enough to actually cause any discomfort. My heartbeat starts to race, a thrumming in my ears as I stare at him, as the words catch up to me. “Don’t be ridiculous I-“

“`Ridiculous? I don’t even know your name. Who are you?” 

“That’s- you don’t need to-“ my heartbeat is resting in my throat now, he’s close enough that I can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

His eyes flicker down to my lips as I talk, I hate that I notice it, I hate that I flush at it.

“Tell me your name.” He demands once again.

Tension lingers suspended in the few seconds it takes me to answer, something within me suddenly wanting to rise up to the challenge- a sudden rush of giddy glee in the frustration I cause him.

“Make me.”

He stares at me blankly, seeming to process what I’ve said. I expect more anger, to get a rise out of him, instead he lowers the hand with the sketchbook down to his side. Then he drops the book with an unmistakable sound, one that sends a slight shock through me. His eyes lock onto mine, he takes a breath in before whispering so softly I have to wonder if I’d imagined the word leaving his lips. “Tell me.” My heart skitters in my chest, for a brief second of time I wonder if I might be drunk for the way my head spins. He raises his free hand up to my chin and gently grabs my face, making it impossible for me to look away. I can’t avoid noticing the smaller details, the way his chest is heaving with too-fast breaths in sync with mine, the high flush upon his cheeks, his dilated pupils as his staring bores holes into my soul.

“Harvey.” It’s like a confession, something I feel deep shame for, something I wish I could leave behind. The security of being unknown crumbles around me as he smirks down at me. “See? Not so hard-” “We're done. Get out.” I come across far more defeated than I intend, weaker than I’d want to.

“Unfortunately for both of us, I need answers”

“You’ve got your damn answer, let me go!” I strain against him and he grits his teeth, squinting at me. “No- I got one answer and you’re still avoiding the issue-” “There’s no issue! Nothing but your delusions-” “My delusions?! Mine?” An accusation, one that makes perfect sense to me. I’ve been far less than a doctor should be, acting without thinking, letting my desire overtake my sense. “Yes!” “You started this!” “So-so let me end it!” “No!” “Why? Just- let it be!” He shakes his head, letting out a laugh that very nearly chills me to the bone, wry and exasperated. “I tried that. You’re the one who won’t leave me alone.” “What? I’ve-” “Every day- every day my mind wanders back to you. I can’t stop wondering what I did wrong- I can't stop thinking about… How am I supposed to just- how am I supposed to just walk away?”

“It’s- it’s just research…” A pathetic lie, one I’ve told myself plenty of times. Then, with hardly a warning, our lips collide. Heat floods through my body in an undeniable spark of need, the flush on my face deepening as he pulls his hand off my wrists and slides his arm around my waist. He pulls me close, flush against his body, and instinctively my arms wrap around his neck. I find myself pulling him into me, a carnal desire to be held, needed, wanted, consumes me to the core- I forget myself, all else seeming to melt away. The only thing that matters is the firm pressure of his hand against the small of my back, is the heat of his body against mine, the strength of his hand wrapped around the back of my neck. Then he withdraws, sudden and just as shockingly as when he’d started the kiss- I find myself wishing he hadn’t torn himself out of my grasp, left my hands feeling strangely empty, my chest feeling cold. “Is it still just research?” He asks, almost with a sense of triumph in his tone, still breathing with a quick rise and fall of his chest, still flushed and looking as if he’s a starving animal and I’m his next meal. Still being far, far, too easily swayed. Still proving that I could never make a new life for myself if I were to remain in his presence. Still hauntingly beautiful, painfully wonderful. Still far too much of a liability for me to be comfortable around. “... Yes.” Any joy he might’ve felt falls from his face, replaced by disgust and colored with hurt. He says nothing, just steps backward away from me as if I’d transformed into some hideous beast, something utterly repugnant, sickening. Perhaps I am, I feel as if I may be someone worthy of such a response.

Then he turns, walking out of the house without even glancing back at me. I’d expected the door to slam shut, some sort of last word, but instead he closes the door gently and I am left standing in the cold room alone. I can’t bring myself to move just yet, instead I look down at my sketchbook where it lay on the floor. I hate it, everything within it, the proof of words thrown at me with such malice that they take permanent residence in my mind.

There’s no intelligence in a man who cannot separate his love for his science from his subject.

It seems I’ll never be an intelligent man, simply a hurtful one. I crouch down and pick up the sketchbook, thumbing through the pages- so many are filled with drawings of him. So many failed attempts at catching the spirit of the man who sat before me, so many times I’ve cursed my hands…

I sigh, trying to swallow back the tears in my eyes as I look over the sketches.

I cannot live like this.

I light a fire, kindling it to a blaze, and cast the sketchbook into the fireplace.

I watch as the flames lick at the pages, charring and devouring them, curling the edges in on themselves until they’ve been turned into ash. I tell myself, so it burns away the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the way I’d memorized him, every laugh line and callous.

I wish I felt warmth in this, but I simply watch it all burn and feel further from myself with each passing moment. In the end, though, it’s what’s best.

Nobody needs me to practice medicine on them, or attempt to- I couldn’t even find myself in a physician's course of study.  No, a simple artist and nothing more- taking on a plague doctor's task out of reckless disregard for my own life… he’s better off not knowing me at all.

[yellowsticky-notes]

Day 5 🧡🩵

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my farmer oc Eden :)

Farmer oc Eden🗡⛏️

a little context about eden:

Eden is 28 years old when she arrives in Pelican Town.

Eden is a very impulsive person and often gets into trouble because of it. Eden may seem selfish because of the decisions she makes, but she is not. On the contrary, she always tries to help and fix things, but because she is so impulsive and overthinks so much, she ends up ruining everything.

Eden is a very strong person and a person who likes risks and new experiences, but what she really wants is to have a quiet life, to have a place to belong and not feel excluded, she is a person you can trust and she will always defend the people she loves.

Eden can be very stubborn about what she wants, when

she has something on mind there is no one who can stop her.

About her design, Eden is an androgynous person, at first everyone thought she was going to be a male farmer but they discovered she was a woman, Eden was never bothered by people thinking she was a man, Eden is usually a person who is not bothered by anything.

About her relationship with Harvey: It's a relationship that's progressing little by little, they're both going to get to know each other and they're two very different people but with little things in common. I have an analogy to describe them, while Harvey tries to fix the broken dishes he ends up cutting himself...while Eden tries to hold all the plates by herself and ends up breaking them. They both went through a long journey before having a relationship with each other, they both support each other and see the problems that each one has, they both support each other and move forward together.

About the drawings: In this drawing Eden has scars and her hair is a little longer, all of this is part of year two (when Eden arrives in Pelican Town she doesn't have any scars) the scar on her face has context but I 'll leave

:) In future post I will add more context (and small wips of the comic)

too much text... sorry

[yellowsticky-notes]

hoping to make a set of 8 here.. any other poses you might like from him? :)

[yellowsticky-notes]

the best dad in the world 🥺🫶💚💚

Harvey realmente ama explicarle todo a liam, ama ver la curiosidad de liam y como intenta entender todo lo que su padre le explica ♡

[yellowsticky-notes]

Day 4 🧡🩵

[yellowsticky-notes]

Plague AU Ch 5.

The lack of sight casts everything into a new veil of sensation, far too much left up to the imagination-

I’m sure I’ve never flushed so hot before, felt so nervous, heard my heartbeat thrumming so hard in my ears.

I hear the sound of metal, then the gentle sound of what I assume to be the mask being placed upon the table. Fabric rustles gently, then with a shock I feel his touch on my shoulder. I flinch, slightly, embarrassingly- being unable to tell where he is sets me at unease.

Even so, after that moment all I can feel is the way he traces routes along my arms, gentle fingertips eliciting a trail of goosebumps, drawing from my shoulder to my wrist, following some unknown path. Then his hand leaves me and I’m lost to him again, suspended in a void of darkness and vague sounds of movement.

Then I gasp slightly at his next touch, running a hand along my clavicle, tracing across my chest with a muttered exaltation in breathless french- loosely translated into a prayer of thanks or a proclamation of disbelief. I set my jaw, trying not to think too hard on the words he’d uttered, the fact that he probably believes them to be private. I’ll let him have his reverence, the astonishment he seemed to feel so strongly that he turned to a god he does not believe in.

I try not to think about the way I’m already shaking, how I want to pull my blindfold off and finally see him, how the way he’s examining me makes me feel like it’s less science and more worship.

I try not to flinch away from the way he tilts my chin up to observe me, resting his thumb on my bottom lip- I cease breathing for a moment, swallowing and trying to focus back on the task at hand. Wasn’t there a reason for this? I can hardly even remember anymore, I’ve grown so lost in the sea of sensation-

My heartbeat rages in my ears still, I realize with a start that I’m in this situation so he could listen to it- I’m not even sure at this point if I want him to.

Though, he’s aware, surely, of his effect on me currently. There’s no way he hasn’t taken note of the way my breath faltered when he’d grabbed me, the redness in my face, the shaking in my hands.

“Are-” I start a question, cringing the moment the first word leaves my mouth- too loud, shattering the reverent atmosphere. “Are you okay? Its-its quiet. I’m… nervous.”

“Sorry-” My breath hitches again, my head spins slightly- this is the first time I’ve heard his voice clearly, with no mask, actually speaking to me. “Yes- I’m… making notes.”

“Oh- okay.” I’m struggling to formulate a sentence, feeling him trace a line down the side of my neck before he places a flat palm against my chest.

“I’m going to give your heart a listen now.” He finally says, slightly quiet, like he’s just as lost in this situation as I am.

I nod, clenching my hands into a fist and trying to focus solely on breathing evenly.

He rests his head against my chest, his breath hot against my skin, stray strands of hair brushing against me gently. There’s a moment where, with his body pressed against mine, I feel the urge to wrap my arms around him in reciprocal- an urge I curse myself for when I catch the thought dancing through my mind.

I place my hands flat on the table instead, counting seconds while the doctor does what he needs to do.

“Your heart’s racing.” He finally says, quietly, a hint of disbelief within his voice.

“I know.”

There’s a longstanding silence before he responds. “Mine as well.”

Then he steps away from me, I hear the tell-tale scratching of a pencil on paper, and then I hear fabric rustling, the sounds of him putting the mask back on.

I almost don’t want this to end, don’t want to walk back into reality, to see and know the moment we held together and pretend it never happened.

But he reaches back around me and unties the blindfold with swift movements, gently pulling it away from my face. I blink my eyes back into focus and find myself unable to look directly at him, still fighting away the flush that feels as if I’ve been set ablaze.

“You should go home.” He says, a finality to his tone. “You should- I’m- I won’t walk you tonight, I’m sorry. You should go.”

“What!?” Confusion blurs through me at a speed I can hardly process- all I know is I don't want to leave.

“This is- this is a bad idea- We shouldn’t have ever started this- just- please go. I-” He sounds nervous, panic rising in his voice more the longer he speaks. “I don’t- I can’t- please-”

“Okay, okay- I’m- I’m going. I’m sorry.” Suddenly it feels as if everything is shattering around me. I pull my shirt on, making my way to the door. I glance back at the doctor, who doesn’t even look at me, and steal away into the darkness.

I move at a pace I hadn’t taken for well over a month, quickly making my way down the road, fighting back stinging tears- I wouldn’t have felt this kind of pain if I hadn’t let my imagination run away with me, if I hadn’t entertained ideas.

I shouldn’t have let myself hope the way I did, it was a mistake allowing any sort of affection to grow for someone I know nothing about. He saw me clearly for the first time and- and I still know nothing, have seen nothing, am being played like a fool.

When I get home I head straight to my room, slumping down into my bed and trying to hold back the tears that make their way down my face anyway. I lay down, staring up at the ceiling and letting them fall, feeling rather stupid for the entire situation, trying not to play back and criticize every moment of interaction.

But I do anyway, I can’t help but try and picture what he saw, try and imagine his thoughts- what was the final thing that made him decide to turn me out of his home?

Maybe he realized I was not simply nervous about the procedure, realized it was a reaction to him. Maybe the thought of it disgusted him, even though he’s had a male companion before. Perhaps all his flattery was no more than kindness.

I sigh, turning over and bringing my blanket up over my head as if it’ll protect me from the onslaught of harsh thoughts. Instead, my mind wanders to the way he’d muttered a breathless prayer of thanks- in a language he’d assume I do not know.

No, I do not think I am something so wretched as to drive him away. I just cannot fathom what would make him suddenly so harsh- cancel the entire project we had started.

Or, at least, I can speculate but I’d find it rather hard to believe. For now, though, I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it. I shut my eyes and try to welcome sleep.

It’s hardly restful, a night spent remembering the ghosts of his touch and pretending I don’t- trying to chase away the thoughts of it, bring my mind elsewhere.

When morning finally arrives and I make my way to work, I notice a distressing lack of the doctor. I try to ask another keeper, ‘have you seen the plague doctor today?’ and her response was ‘which one?’

I have no answer for her, though I bit back from responding ‘my plague doctor’- as he’d begun to be known by his association with me.

So I work through the day keeping an eye out, heart skipping a beat every time I see someone who might be around his height covered in a cloak, then chastising myself for the dog-like loyalty.

By the end of the day it had become clear he wouldn't be here.

I stare into the distance, toward the path we take to his house, and contemplate walking over.

I decide against it. As much as I want to, as much as I would love to find some answers, it seems clear to me that he wants space.

So then the next day at work goes the same way.

Followed by the next.

On the tenth working day without the doctor there, I grow concerned. There’s been a pit in my stomach rapidly consuming me, a sickness and weariness that haunts me- I’m not even done with my work day yet before I excuse myself and set off walking.

I reach the stoop of his home and realize a little too late that I’d not come up with any sort of plan. I don’t know what I’d say to him, what questions I have or how to ask them- all I know is I’m worried he won’t be here, that he’s moved on to somewhere new. I’m worried that I’ll find nothing but bitter disappointment.

I raise my hand and knock loudly, waiting and listening for movement. I hear nothing from the other side, not even the crackling of the fire. I step back and see no smoke from the chimney- my heart sinks.

I knock again, waiting a few moments longer, and still nothing. With my heart held in my throat, I try the handle.

The door opens with ease and I step inside, peering around the room.

It doesn’t look as if he’d left, after all. I sigh in relief, closing the door behind me. He’s simply out.

I glance over at his desk- the sketchbook sits open atop it, and I hesitate.

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be in here without him, really, this is already a little too imposing…

But it’s left open. If I were to walk by and see what is there, how much harm could come of it, really? He’s not here to catch me. Besides, what if this is the only clue I get as to what is happening?

I walk over slowly, keeping an ear out for any sounds that may indicate his return, and look down at the sketch book.

There are several drawings of me on the page. Half of them are scribbled over, clearly done so in a fit of frustration, the other half are incomplete.

I wonder when these were done? I don’t remember some of these poses, so they must be older-

I glance around the room quickly and then make a split-second decision to grab the book and start thumbing through it.

This is the last page of its kind. I flip to the beginning of the book and find drawings with notes written in french alongside measurements- par for the course, exactly what I had expected.

As I thumb through the pages, however, the drawings become more detailed and the notes…

They start sounding like journal entries.

“Today he laughed and it set my heart alight- I wish I could capture his smile and take it out on the difficult days, a light to strengthen my spirits.”

“When he smiles he gains laugh lines, his eyes crinkle up in a delightful manner.”

“I could never draw him well enough- I believe myself incredibly lucky to perceive him at all.”

I flip through to the final drawings- the final notes.

“Canceling the research, my personal feelings are becoming too intertwined. I believe it’s influencing both him and I.”

I look through the drawings several times, recognizing some of the poses and reading his observations- it seems no detail escaped him, every scar, every freckle, all written down in depth.

For how hard he’d been on himself over the drawings, they’re actually incredible- I can’t bring myself to stop staring at them, wondering if this is how he views me.

The man on the page is- beautiful in a way I could never consider myself to be, depicted in such a way that I marvel at it.

“Donald?” A surprised voice calls out and I turn with a shock, apology already halfway off my lips-

And for the first time, our eyes meet.