Get these gay people OFF my screen >:/

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

Hello !! Hope you’ve been well 🫶 if you’re taking requests (if not you can skip!!) may I ask a scenario with law and a shy creative reader?

The kind of creative who’s super sweet and open to the heart pirates (how can you not be?! 💘) but law finds that within their messy, fun filled pages of their sketchbook there’s smaller notes, writings and things that show the opposite hidden emotions?

Sorry if that’s super niche and weird and super specific aashdhfjfk you can take any direction you’d like !!

Take care of yourself and have a wonderful day 💞 thank you!!!

A/N: Hihihi!!! I hope your holidays have been treating you well!! I finally got back home last night so I got to work on this!! This was such an adorable idea and I thank you for the request I hope you enjoy!! Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None! WC: 1k You always brought creativity to the Heart Pirates, your artistic touch was always being sprinkled throughout most of the crew's life. Whether it was doodling sketches, making clothing for the crew, or even attempting to crochet a scarf for Bepo, even if the extra layer threatened to give him heat stroke. Your creative spirit along with your kind demeanor never failed to brighten the ship.

Law found himself drawn to you from the very beginning. Your sweetness and openness to the Heart Pirates had endeared you to the entire crew, and he couldn't deny the joy that emanated from you. The troublesome life of a pirate was an odd setting for someone like you, yet you embraced it with a smile.

You had your own little place in the ship for all of your creative endeavors. It was bursting with the marks of your imagination. Floor to ceiling the walls were filled with art or sketches. Trinkets and half finished crafts were sprawled across various shelves and desks. You had certainly left your mark on this area of the ship and it had become your artistic haven.

One day, you were working on something for Law– an embroidered shirt for him. Your fingers worked to shape the crew's jolly roger onto various parts of the fabric. Satisfied with the outcome, you left the finished shirt on your desk and decided to take some of your empty plates into the kitchen to clean up. 

You got caught in a conversation with Ikkaku in the kitchen, and Law ventured into your haven to check on the progress of the shirt . Spotting the shirt neatly placed on the desk, he picked it up and admired the details. Law's eyes drifted to the desk, where an open sketchbook lay. The sketches on the first few pages immediately caught his attention.

Law couldn't resist the temptation to flip through the sketchbook, expecting to see more of your work. As he flipped through the pages, he took in every doodle, every sketch, every drawing, with awe. As Law ventured deeper into the sketchbook, he started to notice some things. Smaller notes and writings scribbled in the margins, hidden within the art. These weren't just annotations or comments on the drawings; they were snippets of self-doubt, worries, and fears—emotions that largely contrasted the sweetness and openness you expressed on a daily basis.

You returned from the kitchen, expecting to deliver the shirt to Law. However, as you entered, you caught sight of Law flipping through your open sketchbook. Embarrassment flooded you as you registered the intimate nature of the contents.

In a panic, you rushed over to Law, snatching the sketchbook from his hands with a speed that surprised even you. The book closed with a soft thud. As you held the sketchbook tight against your chest, your face burned with your newfound embarrassment.

Law looked up at you with a raised eyebrow. "Did I stumble upon something I wasn't supposed to see?" he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes filled with curiosity.

You stammered, trying to find the right words, "I-I didn't mean for you to see that... it's just, you know, personal stuff." Your gaze flickered between Law and the closed sketchbook, a silent plea hoping that he would understand.

Law observed your flustered reaction with amusement, his eyes lingering on your embarrassed expression. As you clutched the closed sketchbook to your chest, he could sense the vulnerability of the contents of the sketchbook. 

Without missing a beat, Law decided to play it cool, feigning casual interest. "Well, as the Captain, I am responsible for the well-being of the crew," he began, as if searching for any excuse to ask about what he saw. "Knowing more about my crew members helps me understand and support them better, right?"

Your eyes widened at his poor attempt at justification, and a nervous chuckle escaped your lips. It was evident that Law's curiosity was winning, and he wasn't fooling anyone with his thinly veiled excuse.

You decided to play along, a hesitant smile spreading across your lips. "Captain's orders, huh?" you mumbled in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, I guess you're right. Understanding your crew is important for a captain."

Law smirked, sensing your shyness and appreciating your effort to engage in the conversation. "So, anything you'd like to share, or are you planning to keep it all under wraps?" he asked, his gaze flickering between you and the sketchbook.

Your face heats up more, realizing that Law is not even bothering to hide his curiosity anymore. "Um, well, maybe some things are best kept as a mystery," you replied softly. To change the subject, you walk over to your desk and pick up the shirt, handing it to him, hoping he would take it and leave.

Law took the shirt out of your grasp, his fingers running over the threads and a subtle realization dawned on him. In the sketchbook, he had caught a glimpse of your insecurities, particularly about impressing others. "This shirt is impressive," he commented, in a sincere tone you don't usually hear. "The attention to detail and the dedication you put into it—it's clear you have a talent for this."

Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such a straightforward acknowledgment from Law. A warm feeling spread through you as you took in his words, appreciating the recognition of your efforts. "Th-thank you," you stammered, a genuine smile replacing the initial fluster on your face.

Law nodded in understanding and left the room with the shirt in hand. You would never know just know much he saw until you would hear subtle comments falling from his lips that served the purpose of contrasting those negative feelings in hopes that those notes and scribbles turn into more positive ones. You also would never know, but more often than not he would find himself sneaking glances at your sketchbooks more often to see just what he can do or say to make your day better. That one moment may just have served to spark a deep interest in you and a desire to make you happy.

For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

Carved

Pumpkin carving blurb for the spooky season 🎃 pure fluff and cute.

I hope you enjoy!

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——

“You’re going with a very ambitious carving.” Y/N gave his sketch in the pumpkin a cautious gaze. It was a bunch of bats, with a moon. He has chosen it from the stencils they’d found on Pinterest. Y/N herself had chosen a signature face, a classic jagged teeth and triangle eyes and nose.

“Your faith in me is beautiful, honey. Really.” He snarked back, giving her the raised brow signature as he went back to the sharpie in hand, finishing up the last bat wing and placing the cap right back on, daringly holding the pen between his lips. “I think it will be beautiful, really. I haven’t carved a pumpkin since I was a teen.”

The spiel made Y/N sigh softly, well aware of the repeated story she was going to get. It was the same one he had told the cashier at the grocer while they picked up the pumpkin. Harry had said it was damn near blasphemy that they weren’t going to an actual pumpkin patch but it was a bit too late in the season. There wouldn’t be enough big ones left for his taste. So they trotted off to the grocery store to make a night out of it.

In the oven were sugar cookies with the image of pumpkins settled in them, dipped in sugar, along with some experimental pumpkin pie flavored ones that he had thrown haphazardly into the basket. The paycheck had hit and they both were feeling especially brave with money. They had stumbled across a good recipe for some pasta they had eaten earlier, and slightly full tummies only set the mood to be especially cozy.

The fireplace was lit in a soft blaze, the crackle heard in between the pauses in her ‘Fall-ing for you’ playlist playing over the speaker in their house. The pair had been trying to do more things together, wanting to make traditions now that they’d settled into the place. Y/N’s eyes stayed on him fondly as he retold the last apparent traumatic experience in cutting his pumpkin.

“Next thing you know, Niall’s cackling like a lunatic into the quiet room and bam. The knife slips.” He sighed sadly. “Real blood isn’t exactly what we want to have on the pumpkins, I feared. So I took it out and had to wash it, and then go and get 4 stitches,, baby. 4!” He said it with the same amount of enthusiasm he had the first time he told it, which only seemed to make her heart grow fonder. It’s why she never interrupted him. The simple excitement to tell a story was something she loved from him. He wasn’t the most outgoing so to see him be excited about talking was something she adored. Y/N never wanted to dampen that light.

“Oh wow.” She murmured, scooping out the inner guts of the pumpkin into the steel bowl. “That’s why you’ve got the scar between your thumb and index, yeah?” She knew because she laid kisses to it every so often when they were in especially soft moods.

“Mhm.” His reply was muffled by the hot chocolate lifted to his mouth. A slight dollop of whipped cream sat on his nose, making her coo. “What?” His cheeks flushed as she giggled, staying still as she appproached his seated figure and leaned in. He had assumed she was going to give him a kiss, puckering his lips but was met with a wet sensation on his nose. “Oi! What?” He pulled back with a crinkled nose, trying to work out what happened. “Did you just lick me?”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders shrugged as she went back to her pumpkin, going elbow deep to get the insides clean. “Had whipped cream on your nose. Couldn’t wipe it off, and we literally lick each other’s genitals. Don’t be a baby.”

Harry sputtered before melting into a laugh, shaking his head as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. A bit of whipped cream remained, making him scoff. “Couldn’t even get all of it. Weak.”

Y/N responded with a simple toss of a slimy pumpkin seed in his direction, nailing him in the cheek.

“Heeeey! I was just joking. No need to result in violence.”

—-

“Do not laugh.” His voice was wavering, trying to keep his own laugh in as he looked at the now lit pumpkins on their front porch. “Do not. I see you shoulders shaking. Don’t do it.” Harry couldn’t blame her when she burst into a slew of giggles.

The carving was indeed very ambitious for someone who didn’t carve a pumpkin since he was a teenager. The jagged bats were a bit hard to make out, and the ‘moon’ was hanging on by a very thin thread. Once the animals got to it.. it probably wouldn’t last too long.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She wheezed, leaning into him, laughter muffled by his Halloween sweater. It was to get in the spirit, but right now he was feeling like it mocked him. The pumpkin carving spirits had betrayed him, really… “You tried, that’s what counts. And the cookies came out great!”

“Ah yes, the cookies I placed on the pan and sprinkled sugar on.” He deadpanned, arm a wrapping around her body. “You’re so lucky I love you. Makin’ fun of me and my pumpkin. It’s a fluke. I will get another tomorrow and show you.” He huffed, a puff of hair blowing from the wind of his breath.

“Harry.” She sobered slightly, looking at him in the eyes. “No. No more massacred pumpkins. We can get some and paint on them with nontoxic paint or something for the dining room. It’s a miracle you aren’t injured, considering your last experiences.” Y/N was being fair. An alternative. Considering the neighbors would definitely be able to see the pumpkin and the fake candle showed the extent of the disaster it had showed, he did think the paint would be the less dangerous option.

“Fine. But let’s get the cool pastel paint from the craft store. I’ll go on Pinterest and-“ Y/N’s hand came up to gently cover his lips with her sweater paw’d hand, giving him a look.

“Let’s leave Pinterest alone for a bit, shall we babe? I’m all for creative expression, but we don’t want to scar our guests when they come for the party. Yeah?”

Harry grunted, sinking his teeth lightly into the sweater covered palm to make her squeak. “A bully.” He grumbled as she wiggled out of his hold. “Wouldn’t think so with how sweet you look, but you’re awfully good at being a deceiving little witch.” He followed her inside the house, hot on her heels.

“Hey! At least I’m honest! Let go. Do not tickle me.” She warned, feeling his arms wrap around her as he kicked their front door closed. Instead of fingers in the stomach, she was given a kiss to the neck, and then she felt it. The wet of his mouth, and the buzzing. Blowing raspberries into her sensitive neck, making her squeak and try and escape the vibrating sensation.

Making her escape, she dove behind the couch with narrowed eyes. “That was cold. Low, even for you, Styles.” She hissed, wiping her neck off. The joyous glint in her eye made him smirk though, shaking his shoulders up and down as he simply crossed his arms. “Deserved, as you and your friends say. Besides, you said not to tickle you. I didn’t. Simple payback for earlier and for being a smart mouth little bully.”

Y/N grumbled to herself as she pulled the fuzzy orange throw blanket printed with pumpkins over her shoulders, sitting in front of the fire. “Hmph. You love me and my smart mouth. Next.”

“That I do, little brat. That I do.”

❥ A Perfect Experiment : Wally x Reader (She/Her Pronouns, Named) ✿

Chapter Masterpost: [  ♡   ♡    ♡ ] Chapter Six; Gifted

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Though a few of the neighbours had offered to clean up in the morning, by the time anyone got to the clearing, it was long gone. Even Frank’s expertly crafted bonfire pit looked like nothing had ever happened, the grass flat and pristine as ever. Most of your neighbourhood shrugs it off, but you do take a note of Detective Julie on the case, dragging Frank around the clearing with an adorable outfit and a magnifying glass that is just far too big. She keeps calling him ‘Watson’ and you vaguely wonder how she knew a reference like that. You file the situation strictly in ‘not my circus, not my monkeys,’ and resolve to let yourself just be thankful you didn’t have to move your own record player again. Everything was returned in perfect condition, after all, even set up exactly as you liked it. Though, you will admit it was a tad worrying that someone had come into your home while you were sleeping. Though if it really was one of the neighbours, just too nervous to admit to such a sweet deed, you sincerely weren’t worried in the slightest. You were thankful for the spare time, vaguely remembering something important you needed to look into. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Alright, so here’s the plan. We’re gonna make up yesterday’s lazy day, which had turned into such a wash. Barnaby decided before even heading to sleep last night; he had SO much relaxing to catch up on, and nothing was going to stop him. He was going to wake up nice and late (He did not– the hustle and bustle of the clearing stirring him before he was ready), He was going to head to the bugdega for not one! But two! Of the most perfectest hot dogs ever! (How was Howdy out of ketchup? Of all the condiments to miss on the perfectest hot dogs– Why ketchup???) and he was going to return next door to his own home, where his newest friend had promised a dip in what was now going to be the warmest, nicest water ever– Why was he out? Now– Barnaby was NOT the grumpy type, but even he had his limits. Despite the warnings, here he was in the felt; Wally Darling, set up off the beaten path with a huge easel and canvas, staring intently at the landscape before them. Barnaby watched for a minute, and Wally just never moved. His exhausted eyes blinked one, then the other, and the only further movement was him squinting even harder. He couldn’t just sit and watch this. But… He peered past his darlingest friend; The paddling pool sat there, beckoning him… He let out a pitiful whine before succumbing to the responsibilities that came with being a good friend. “What’cha painting there, Buddy?” “Huh? Oh! Barnaby!” Wally, startled, turned up towards the dog towering over him, “I… Was just… Ah, I was painting Home, of course!” He finally dug the brush into his paint, swirling it around and lifting his hand towards the canvas, trying desperately to work around his trembling arm. “Home, Huh?” “Yes! Home,” Wally nodded firmly, and stubbornly pressed the brush into the fabric, sketching in the familiar box that he called his home, “You see, I saw the morning sun hitting it, and,” He mimicked a chefs kiss motion, completely forgetting the ‘kiss’ part before returning to his work, “I need to focus! Can’t dillydally, now!” “Mm,” Barnaby smirked, and flopped down a little, resting his big doggy head on Wally’s unsuspecting shoulder, “Weird– I didn’t know Home was blue. We have that in common!” The snicker from his shoulder shook Wally to his core. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his darkened gaze shifted to the peripheral, examining the blue mass on his shoulder carefully. “You gotta rest, buddy.” Barnaby was firm on this, gingerly taking the brush from his hand. Wally grasped for it again, but was held back by Barnaby’s massive paw on his face. It muffled the ‘I do not!’s as Wally squirmed desperately, tantrum noises rumbling the blue felt in his face. Barnaby waited a few moments for him to tire himself out, before scooping him under his arm, the man hanging there limply, but continuing his grumpy mumbling. What a drama queen. “Yeah, yeah. I getcha. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, Buddy. But you just gotta–” He sent a tired look into one of Home’s windows as they approached, and the door swung open easily for him. Barnaby lifted Wally with one hand, and readied himself, before bowling the puppet through the door, “Roll with it,” Home’s door snaps shut before Wally realises where he is, and Barnaby gives the structure an appreciative pat on it’s trim, “Thanks, Bud. Take care of him, I’ll be back,” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● You take another bite of your peanut butter toast, and flip the page in your notebook. It was as you thought; Last night should have been a bright, beautiful full moon. The weather said nothing about clouds, either, not a dang one! So what was that strange phenomenon? Perhaps it had dipped so low that the trees had hidden it from that angle, but… Surely you still would have seen the light? You take another bite, puzzling your question over with it, and staring lasers into the far wall. You resolve to answer this question later, closing the book and leaving it on your kitchen island, turning away to wash the crumbs off of your plate.

You fully expected a knock on your door sometime today, what with Sherlock out in full force, but you definitely weren’t expecting Barnaby. Especially not this early! You treat him to a big smile, though, and open the door wide, “Barnaby!! I don’t have snacks ready yet, but you can come in if you like, I’ve got the a/c running full blast and–” He holds up a paw to stop you, and takes in a deep breath. “It is time.” You stop in your tracks. “I have to admit…” You’re holding your breath. “... and this is hard for me, y’know,” Your brain is practically vibrating out of your skull. The excitement on your face is impossible to ignore, and leads to a steady laugh from Barnaby, “I, Barnaby B. Beagle… Might, just possibly!!!” He continues to draw it out, wondering how long you’ll go without blinking. “Might!!! Not know everything. I have a question.” All the tension leaves your body. You might just be able to die happy. After all this time, after all these adventures, Barnaby B. Beagle had a science question for YOU! You squeal with delight, and grab at his ginormous paws, pulling him inside and making a beeline for your lab, not even bothering to shut the front door. You scramble to shove your arms through your coat, and hurry to the table, pushing a few forgotten experiments out of the way haphazardly as you peer up at the dog, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement. “Honestly… Its more of a request. Y’see, I need some medicine.” You look crushed. He takes one look at you, and lets out a set of wheezy belly laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, Barnaby. Shouldn’t you maybe go to Howdy’s for that? There are lots of kinds, and you really should leave mixing those things to the professionals–” You’re cut off as he finally manages to finish his riot, sniffling the last bits from his nose, “Not that kinda medicine, no ones sick!” He explained, resulting in a soft ‘phew!’ from you, “Y’see, I need something to make someone sleep. He’s havin a lot of troubles lately, ‘n he needs somethin’ nice to just put him to bed for a lil’ bit. Y’know?”

Hmm. You did know. Though the ‘perfect cure’ had certainly worked, and continued to work when you were desperate, you too were plagued by fitful sleeps. You explain your hypothesis, but Barnaby shoots it down pretty quickly, explaining that the friend didn’t really like to have company in his home after dark. Huh. You wrack your brain, tapping a finger against your lips to try to help you concentrate. There were things you knew of, teas and smells and flowers and honeys… “Though,” Barnaby muses, tilting his head, “... He might not mind as much if it’s you.” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● This was how, despite your protests, and after an hour or so of mixing and chopping things to bring with you, you’ve ended up on the doorstep of Home. You peer behind you; giving a bitter stare to the dog that had made himself comfortable in your paddling pool, balancing a beach ball effortlessly on his nose and jamming out to your radio. Unfair; completely unfair. Though… You turn back to Home. You hadn’t spent much time with it since you arrived, and nervously, you give it a good morning. It creaks in response, and you can see the windows bend in to a cheery smile. Truthfully, despite your reservations, once you’d known one of your friends was in need you probably would have dropped all your plans anyways. Wally, however, wasn’t the type to need things. “May I?” You ask, raising a closed fist to the door. Home creaks agreeably, and you give a gentle but firm knock on the door. You wait a minute or so with no reply. You can hear noises from Home, though you don’t believe its directed at you. “... Home, I know I should wait, but I have some things I need to drop off for Mr. Darling. May I come in a moment?” You lift the basket that is hanging off your other arm to show to it’s waiting window. Another few internal noises sound before you get an affirming clap from the shutters. The door squeaks open, and you take the invitation heartily, stepping over the threshold. Home is decorated exactly as you’d expected. The living room is spacious, with an armchair big enough to get lost in, facing an intricate fireplace that looks well maintained. In fact, everything looks well maintained. Despite the dense collage of paintings decorating the walls, not a speck of dust is visible. From the entryway, you can see into his kitchen. You’d swear it had never been used before if you didn’t see the bowl of apples, piled higher than necessary, sitting on the counter. Despite the light pouring into the front rooms, the stairway just in front of you is shrouded in darkness. A shiver of fear runs down your spine, but you can’t put your finger on why. Wally wasn’t dangerous, he was Wally. He was sweet and charming and agreeable and polite. You push through your reservations, and call out through the dim halls, “Mr. Darling?” You pause, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. Your heart stings a little at this, hoping that at least the two of you were friends enough that he wouldn’t ice you out like this. “... Wally?” You ask again, a little more firmly. It takes another moment, but you hear a weak noise from somewhere beyond the staircase. There he was. You take the first step, and reach for the lightswitch, waiting a beat for the affirmative squeak from Home before you flick it, and complete your ascension. You find Wally in the room at the end of the hall. He is in his bed, blankets wrapped tight around his body but especially his face, leaving only his unblinking eyes visible. This look gives you pause. Barnaby said that he was exhausted, but the Wally in front of you looked so wired that he might just never sleep again. For some reason, you thought he looked an awfully lot like… A stray cat, ready to swipe when given the first affections from a good samaritan. Your lip wobbles a little with this adorable thought, and the worries you have for the situation fade away. You know exactly how to handle this kind of situation, easy peasy. You don’t acknowledge him, strolling over to his bedside table and setting a cloth wrapped parcel on top. “What’s that?” He asks in a hushed tone, obviously apprehensive about the whole situation. You unwrap the top, and the sides fall to reveal a plastic tupperware of sliced apples. His breath hitches, and you crack open the top, before turning on your heel, “I’ll be right back.” You promise, and stroll back downstairs. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● By the time you return, the container has been practically licked clean. The top had been set back where it belongs, and a bit of the tension in Wally’s form had fallen. You take this as a sign to continue the calming assault, stepping back into his bedroom with a tray. Two mugs are balanced on it precariously, and you announce your presence softly, “Alright, Mr. Darling. I’ve got some–” “Wally.” He says sternly, and it stops you in your tracks. “What?” “You called me Wally. Earlier.”... He wasn’t wrong about that. A pang of guilt hits you in the chest. Did… He feel left out? It was true that he was the only one that she wasn’t on a first name basis with, but… Well, he’d never seemed to mind. You wonder for a moment if there were other ways you’d treated him differently, or unfairly. The thought of that nearly breaks your heart. “... Is that tea?” He asks finally, breaking you from your haze. You nod. “... Can you turn off the light?” This was a request you completely understood. A smile returns to your face, and you oblige, turning back and stepping into the hallway to turn off the light. You make your way carefully back to him, and sit yourself on the floor next to his bed. You take one of the mugs, and hand it to him, mentioning to be careful of the heat. You hear him untangle his hands, and though your eyes hadn’t quite adjusted, you feel him pick up the mug out of your hands. You pick up the other one, and take a sip. “It’s chamomile, and honey.” You explain quietly, gazing down at the mug as the shapes in the dark start to form again. “It helps with circulation. It’ll make you sleep better. I think it tastes pretty nice, too,” You give the liquid a quick swirl before taking another sip. You feel the warm edge of a mug bonk you on the cheek, and you turn back to the other puppet in the room, “Wally, you really should at least try it–” “Drank it all,” He promised, and when you lift the cup, you’re surprised to find that its completely true. You must’ve been so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear him sipping. Strange. You decide not to press it, though. You tend to act a little weird around Wally as is, it wouldn’t be out of the question that you’d missed some things. Or a lot of things. You pull the basket back to your side, digging around in it for the last gift. As you lift it up and turn back to Wally, your vision has adjusted enough to finally see him. His grip on the blanket has relaxed, and it's now just draped over his shoulders. His eyes have returned to their half-lidded gaze, and hes watching every movement you make in the darkness. His pompadour has deflated, and blue locks curl across his face haphazardly. You set a tiny cloth bag, tied delicately with a pair of swirly ribbons and a tiny star-shaped charm, down next to his face. He stares at it, and picks it up, turning it over with a confused look. “It’s lavender, amongst other things,” You explain, “I mixed it up myself. The smell is known to be relaxing. I thought if I packed it up, you could keep it nearby to help? You know, with the sleeping?” He takes the package and lifts it to his face, giving it a short sniff. You briefly wonder what orifice he smells through, but again abandon this line of questioning. All your new friends have quirks, Wally could have this one too. “... Smells like you,” A squeak escapes you. He’s staring again. It was true that on occasion you’d mixed up a batch for your own spastic sleep schedule, but you didn’t think it was that strong. You lift your wrist to your nose and give it a curious sniff. Wally finally lets out a dry laugh in return. “... How do you feel? Sleepy?” You ask quietly, and tilt your head. Wally doesn’t move for a moment… Then he turns his face away from you guiltily, mumbling something under his breath. Oh, dear. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you came prepared. You gently push the tray of mugs off to the side where they won’t be stepped on, and stand up. You can do this, you’re so brave, and you’re going to be so unbelievably normal about this. Wally is your very dear friend, and you’d done this with practically every other friend you had at this point. You could give him the courtesy, too, even if it made your brain swim and your stomach flop. Start small. You climb onto the bed, Wally sitting up with a start. He narrows his eyes at you defensively. You reach a hand towards him slowly, giving him a chance to pull away if he needs to, and brush the strands of hair out of his face. Your hand presses against his bare forehead. He hesitates a moment, before you feel him pressing back against it. You trace your thumb across his brow, and move your hand down slowly to cup his cheek. The tension in his shoulders all but disappears, and you can see his kitten grin broaden as he melts into your touch. You didn’t know how long you’d been holding your breath, but you finally release it in a soft sigh. You release him, and scooch yourself over to the head of the bed, making yourself comfortable before patting your lap. He blinks at you curiously. “I can’t take credit for this one,” You admit with a smile, “Poppy showed it to me. It’s scientifically proven to help you sleep, though. Promise.” You take his hand, and guide his head onto your lap. Hes stiff, gripping your previous gift in his hand so tight that you briefly worry that it might break. Luckily the tie holds, and slowly he relaxes. You tell him to close his eyes. He obliges. “... Can you sing me a lullaby?” He asks under his breath. Your cheeks flush, but you can’t possibly say no to such an adorable request. You bury your fingers in his hair, rubbing the top of his head with your thumb, and relaxing back onto the headboard before you start to sing to him, “If the stars were mine, I’d give them all to you,” Your voice is low and hoarse, still a little nervous that he was only joking, and that he’d pull away from you and laugh. That wasn’t the Wally Darling you knew, though, and you took his contented sigh as reason to continue, “I’d pluck them down right from the sky and leave it only blue… I would never let the sun forget to shine upon your face, so when others would have rain clouds, you'd have only sunny days.” You can feel his smile at this against your lap. Somehow you knew he’d like this one. “If the stars were mine, I'd tell you what I'd do… I'd put the stars right in a jar and give them all to you…” His breathing is slow. Nearly there. You continue the hypnotising movement in your thumb, trying to keep your mind from dwelling on just how soft his hair is. “If the world was mine, I’d paint it gold and green~” Wally’s soft voice cuts through the darkness, and nearly scares you out of your felt. You hadn’t expected a reply, and you press your free hand against your chest to try and slow the rapid beating of your heart. “I’d make the oceans orange… For a brilliant colour scheme. I would colour all the mountains, make the sky forever blue, so the world would be a painting, and I’d live inside with you…” His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled himself closer, making himself comfy closer to your tummy than your lap. You lift your chin to stare at the ceiling, trying to keep any bit of composure you have, for sleep’s sake. His voice was wavering, you could hear his exhaustion creeping through. “If the world was mine, I tell you what I’d do… I’d wrap the world in ribbons, and then give it all… to you…” He breathed the last line in a satisfied sign, nuzzling his head directly against you. His breathing slowed. His body fully relaxed. Finally, Wally Darling rested. (A/N: Another long one! I think we all deserve a nice rest tonight.) @elegantkidfansoul

Daily Check-in: April 20, 2024 🎀

No update for Friday as all I did was go to class then go to work, come home, and sleep. But Saturday was a very good day and I feel as tho I did a good amount of things! And I feel good about the thing I did! <3

🩷 What I Accomplished:

woke up early before work (didn't hit my alarm three times and wake up tired, like I've been doing)

worked a ~7hour shift

agreed to cover a coworkers morning shift on Sunday 4/21

created a budget/ work plan for next semester to see how much I can make vs what most of my spending will look like

made an appointment to get a tattoo at the beginning of May (it's a tattoo to honor my dad and my late mother, who will have been gone 10 years this year. I wanted to honor my dad with the tattoo as well because he has been an amazing parent for the last 10 years, and I love and appreciate him so much)

booked an intro class at club pilates for mid-may (finally going to see if I enjoy it, and if so, will continue taking classes next semester!)

did a morning yoga workout

reflected on why I've been having a hard time sticking to my goals/daily tasks lately

washed my laundry (didn't put away tho)

💞 Good Things That Happened:

my friend gave me a ride to work

my favorite supervisor gave me a ride home from work

ate some spicy cheesey ramen

had a really good day at work

was able to request a day off work for beginning of May

got told my tattoo won't cost as much as I had thought

talked more with my roommates

💔 What Could've Gone Better:

drank too much coffee, and too late at night

had a near panic attack because of the coffee and cried myself to sleep

didn't zoom with my boyfriend because of how bad the coffee made me feel

lost trust with a different supervisor that I had thought was cool with me ( made me realize you can't trust most men to keep their word nowadays. not all men. just the men where I live at least.)

didn't study anything or do anything I felt was productive

💗 Stuff For Sunday:

work a shift

clean bathroom

wash pillowcases and towels

dust bedroom

practice some past chemistry homework problems

pick up medication from pharmacy after work

draw up rough sketch of tattoo idea

morning yoga?? we shall see

DONT drink too much caffiene

til next time lovelies 🩷

p.s Check Out My Depop shop!

💕 Song of The Day: Pied Piper - BTS

this song has been making me feel the same way that House of Cards has, which is saying a lot. I love this song so much right now.

Answering asks #4

I have been... procrastinating over answering asks in my inbox... just a bit 🥺

I'm really grateful for everyone's patience so I'm finally sitting down to answer all the asks I got! Again tysm ;w;

• Finny art request + Timelapse and brief overview of my art process

My deepest apologies anon! Not only did you send this ask back in July, but I additionally promised you a reply back in August- and it's October now! 😭 I am so sorry for my lateness and am so grateful for your patience!

In any case, you asked for a Finny drawing so I offer a Finny drawing! As well as a timelapse of my art process and brief overview of how I do things since you were interested!!!

I wasn't sure what style you wanted me to draw him in (I have so many styles RIP) so I picked the most difficult one I (sometimes) use! Aka my painterly style!

As for how I draw like this uhh, it's a lot of messing around trying to find the right colors basically!

Also focusing on quick brush strokes that communicate the shape of whatever surface I'm rendering!

I also love casting most of the upper part of the face in shadows. Does it make sense? No. Does it look good? Yes!!

As for my lineart, again- rly depends on the style I'm going for- but I tend to use a more sketchy style of lineart these days.

Like a superrr clean sketch. I think it looks nicer with my rendering style, bc the lines have that sketchy rough quality so it's easier to hide the imperfections bc I can hide under the "well it's supposed to look rough duhh" excuse LOL. Work smart not hard! I always say that.

I hope I'm making sense with my rambles. I've never been the best at explaining my art process bc I myself don't rly get what I'm doing usually. It just kinda comes as a reflex almost?? I've been drawing for so long I just kinda go with the flow at this point.

Anyhow hope it was worth the wait XD enjoy your Finny!!!

• Kuroshitsuji Musical idea suggestions

To refresh everyone's memory (bc I'm so late at answering asks), awhile back @shadowalkingschemer asked if I ever planned to make a Kuroshitsuji musical parody type songs/animations like I did for Umineko, to which I said "probs no bc an actual official Kuroshitsuji musical exists, but it sounds like a rly fun idea tho". ANYHOW- this was the followup ask I got from the same person! So let me finally answer!!!

Oki so I looked up this Beethoven's Last Night thing you mentioned and???? OMG??? It goes hard from the first few minutes I listened to. It's a rock opera I assume? And it's such a bop?? And yes this would be perfect for Kuroshitsuji, it matches that classical sophisticated vibe SO WELL with the general edge of the story (bc duh. it's a recreation of Beethoven's compositions but with epic rock music). God this is so good, thank you for the recommendation I will have to listen to the full album soon bc WOW.

• Nice person in my inbox :D

Thank you so much @eynnwwyjth !! That's such a sweet compliment too ;W; to call my art enchanting AAA ty!!! :>

• Animation advice

Thank you for checking out my YouTube @aeowolfestheater !! It's my primary social media, and I'm glad you fell down the rabbit hole of my many many uploads I posted over the years XD

To answer your question, I don't rly have the best personal advice when it comes to starting out as an animator rly! I kinda... fell into it? XD I started animating (well trying to animate in MS Paint), before I even turned 10, so I didn't really have that traditional learning curve? It was mostly a lot of trial and error, trying to figure out what works and what doesn't.

(If anyone wants to see how my old animations looked and how they improved over the years, I posted many "Animation Improvement" type videos that showcase my work over the years, so you get the idea of what I'm talking abt!)

Best advice I can give to any animator right now is probably the boring advice I personally never took (hence why it took so long for me to get where I am now). Learm the fundementals (the principles of animation, the ins and outs of the animation program you're using, general art skills are also a bonus depending of what you wanna animate). I think it's also important when you are first starting out to focus less on making your animations smooth and clean and more on learning how to capture movement itself (that's the point of animation after all!). Learn how things move depending on material, speed, physics etc. and how to communicate that in animation. I think just observing life helps a lot. References are your friend (video references are probs the best). Ofc clean and smooth animation is great as well, but that comes after you learn the basics I think. Stay on model the best you can while animating any shot (ofc unless you are doing squash and stretch or experimental animation). It makes it look less janky. Uhh I can't think of much else right now (bc again I never rly learned animation the normal way haha), so I will link my two animation tutorials here! They are abt Clip Studio Paint EX though, idk how helpful they are if you don't have that program :'0!

• Tumblr mutual reunion!

Omg hi @rissynicole and so sorry for the late reply!! As this post has shown so far I am extremely slow at replying to the asks I recieve in my inbox! Anyhow it is me! Katrinci! I got back on Tumblr in 2022 (has it already been over a year??)! Sadly someone else took my old username (an innactive empty blog too... I'm so mad), so I got a new username heyooo. I hope you've been well!! I'm doing better then I have in gosh, years I feel like XD. Mostly bc I'm finally out of school and finally focusing on stuff I wanna be doing (art career stuff and irl stuff!) But yeah I hope you've been well too!!! Feel free to reply or shoot me another ask if you feel like, I'll do my best to reply on time this time! (I'm so so sorry for being so late!!) Anyhow YIPPIE!

• Where to watch my silly Umineko Musical parody

It's here! I privated it on my main channel bc I thought it was too goofy/self-indulgent even for me (also it wasn't doing well and y'know how YouTube is with channels that underperform T_T), so I moved it to my secondary channel! It has both the song you are referencing and the other song I did! Enjoy :>

• What Croatian stereotype is Katzone?

Well every region in Croatia has its own stereotype, I'm from Dalmatia, and we are stereotyped as loud. So I def fit that one! And also I fit the "cura iz umjetničke" (girl from art school) stereotype quite well. I went to an art highschool and I'm gay, autistic, slightly mentally ill and look vaguely alt (literally I don't btw, but ppl see a buzzcut and it blows their minds, like "woah that's so alternative and quirky", not knowing I only have a buzzcut so I can't pull my hair smh (trichotillomania, look it up for more info)). Though I don't smoke weed so mby I am a bit subversive and not like other art girls.

• Kat sexuality confirmed??

Oki so what @xxparanoidvampirexx is referencing here is when I posted a poll asking my followers to guess my sexuality.

These were the results!

I have been democratically declared a lesbian by popular vote. This is probably true. Listen I'm like 95% certain I'm a lesbian but you never know. My autism makes it hard for me to figure out any sense of my identity bc I often mirror ppl around me (and most of my friends are lesbians or sapphic women in sapphic relationships), you get me? We can never know. My sexuality is currently a Schrodinger's cat situation I'm afraid.

ANYHOW, to answer LMAO- I mean fair assumption. I do mostly post about women on my blog (Saldy... I got back into Adventure Time recently and my blorbo there... is a *shivers* man. I saw someone on Twitter today as that fictional middle aged men are to lesbians what Taylor Swift is is to gay men. And like. Yeah.)

• Nice person in my inbox #2 + "What's your favorite Ciel outfit?"

First of thank you so much anon for the kind words!!! I'm rly happy to hear my art makes you gayer (the only correct compliment ever). Jokes aside, but fr this is super sweet :'D thank you!!!

To answer your question, I had to go skim through this video by @/nullbutler to refresh my memory on what outfits Ciel wears throughout the anime/manga/official art.

Here's the video if you wanna watch it!

Anyhow, my personal fave fits of his are extremely basic. While I do love Ouji fashion, I dislike seeing him in most of the oufits Yana puts him in. Like yes they look lovely, slay extremely hard and fit the visual aesthetic of Black Butler perfectly- but every time I see him in these frilly oufits I'm like "this is not reflective of his personality in any way, he would not wear this on his own, it's pure camp". Don't get me wrong- I love camp, and this anime/manga is as camp as you get. So while I love the more campy frilly oufits he wears aesthetically (and those are way prettier), I perfer when he's in stuff like this:

Like yes, these outfits are objectively less interesting and pretty- but I see stuff like this and I'm like yeah that's him. If Sebastian dropped dead and couldn't pick out his clothes anymore, this is what he would wear on his own accord methinks.

• STOP MAKING ME FEEL OLD 😭

Here's my live reaction of reading your ask @porfiriea :

What do you mean?? You were 6?? I doubt you watched my 2014 MS Paint animation era, I assume you found my channel during 2016-2017 at earliest (my Undertale and Yan Sim animation era). I refuse to believe you were born in the 2010s. Nuh-uh. No. Not happening. Fake news.

Jokes aside, but it's always cool to see ppl be like "oh I watched your stuff b4, I didn't know this Tumblr user was you!" It's a strange feeling!! Makes me feel like I did leave a mark on the animation side of YouTube. Feels nice! :'D but also old. And I'm only 20!! How will I feel when I'm 30 or 40?? Will I just turn to dust on the spot??

• Grelle's gender masterpost update

I'm so sorry anon, but I completely lost interest in this topic T_T! Plus even if I ended up making a masterpost, it wouldn't be fully accurate (or at least- I wouldn't be able to verify its authenticity completely), as I don't speak Japanese. So I would have to go off of Google translate and translations by English speaking fans who understand Japanese. And I don't wanna talk too much abt Japanese queer culture either. Even though I did a ton of research, I'm not Japanese and I never went to Japan! So I'd rather not risk spreading any potential misinfo. Sorry to let you down ;;!

• Another YouTube viewer spotted me in the wild!

Omg you spotted me!! In the wild!! That animation was crazyy, bc I made it rly fast and rly didn't expect it to do well. But I remember it did super well during the first day (got 100k views on the first day it was wild), and while I love that old video, I'm like. Rly? That one blew up?? Out of all my other ones?? I mean the idea was creative! But I feel I half assed it a little, I barely animated anything for it outside the headbop tweening and blinking animation XD. Mby I'm being too harsh on 14 year old Kat here. Nahh I'm not, I felt the same when I posted it innitially as well. But hey I still love that vid. Love the style I drew in at the time, I was still using a mouse for everything back then. Love the colors too! Mby I should remake it one of these days. Mby!!!

If anyone wants to watch the animation @gentle-starlight is refering to:

• Umineko time

@anawkwardlady This is the universal Umineko fandom experience I'm afraid. Being sad over Beato and wishing she was vibing (after you learn abt... the horrors...) XD

• ???

I'm so very concerned and do not know what this means or what this is refering to. I'm afraid O_O @hononyan what does this mean...

• What happened to my old Tumblr blog

It's completely ok to ask anon! In truth, I have this rly bad habit where I delete social media accounts when I'm having a bad mental health moment. It's always an impulsive decision I end up regretting. I deleted my old Tumblr in early 2021 I'm pretty sure, and I'm still so sad about it. I wish I didn't delete it. I had that blog since 2015 and now it's gone like poof. I can't get it back and I'm always emo abt it.

I might make like, an archive or something of my old art one day. I mean I still have most of it saved on my computer, but it would be nice to have all of it in one place publically again (it's always good to have stuff backed up somewhere)! Adding that to my to-do list XD

Oh and the worst part? I can't use my old username on Tumblr (Katrinci). Someone else took it. A BLANK EMPTY BLOG. I'm so mad. I'm soooooo mad give it back to meeee.

• THE END!

And with that I have answered all the asks I had in my inbox! Well, all the questions and stuff, I still have other stuff in my inbox like art requests but I'll get to that some other time if I feel like doing any of those! In any case, tysm for being patient everyone! Ik it took me very long to reply but I hope my responses were worth it! I wish all of you a nice day! My hand hurts from typing owie.

PAPER RINGS part.4

So here we are, with another chapter, and now I wanted you to cry. Did you cry? I HOPE SO. Plus, our favorite Four boy is here!

MASTERLIST

4. I was screaming “Go, go go!”

FIVE MONTHS BEFORE CAPITOL 

«Do you think Katniss will come to dinner?» You ask, chopping the last vegetables on the plate. You are not a great cook, Haymitch is definitely better when he is in the right mood, but today he spent the morning chopping wood - a great sight you might add, sweats on his shirtless chest - and you don’t want him to do everything.

«No, I don’t think so, from what I’ve gathered she wants to spend dinner on the phone with her sister.» Katniss can’t legally go to her sister in District One. Or Two, you don’t remember, you only remember that Mrs. Everdeen has been kind of a bitch about it. You understand it’s not easy for her to see her house being destroyed, the very same house she used to live with her husband, and Prim on a wheelchair has been the last straw, but at the same time she has two daughters, not one. Katniss is almost an adult, but by the way she always bargains in your home with an excuse she feels lonely without a parent. Hell, sometimes you miss Holly at home. Lora often tells you how Chaff has been fundamental for her in the months after the Games, he became a parental figure for her, helping her crisis. And she is young, but an adult.

Katniss is a teenager who killed a dictator, she needs a mom.

«Oh. So sad.» You beam at the kiss on the head Haymitch gives you. «So does that mean we don’t have to do anything today?»

«Not more than usual, no.» And you’ve done the usual. You cleaned, you removed the dust, you fed the disgusting birds. You are still recovering and he doesn’t even want you to do this, but you don’t want to feel useless.

«Can we snuggle up and watch a movie?» You propose, as you feel two strong arms around your hips. He doesn’t like Capitol movies, but you love them. And there is no such thing as a Twelve movie, so he better get used to them. You adore romantic films and he snorts all the time, but they put you in a romantic mood so he bears them if it means hot sex after the movie session.

«I have a better idea, tell me how you do what you do.» He proposes. You watch him, a little confused.

«What do I do?»

He looks at you like you don’t understand basic math. «Your dresses.»

«Really? You want to know that? You’ll be bored.» You don’t think he even knows what you do for a living. He knew better when you were a teacher, because he likes to read - he loves to read - but now you suppose he is in the dark. Sometimes he says you “Want to wear dresses”, and that would make you a model, not a stylist. And he must have some sense of the difference, in all these years of Games, but at that time Effie used to do all the work for him. He just had to show up and suffer.

«Let me choose if I get bored.» He kisses your knuckles. 

You smile brightly, giving up your objections almost immediately. You feel proud that he wants to know you better. «Ok, I’ll show you.»

Five minutes after you are showing him your stuff. Some sketches, most of them are the ones you plan to show Portia, one or two for him. He is a great subject, and you like sketching clothes for him, something with a strong Twelve taste but also fashionable. You sewed him some outfits, and now he doesn’t always wear only a pair of jeans and a shirt, he wears three pairs of jeans and three shirts. Baby steps.

«And how do you begin?» He wants to know, and maybe for the first time he sees you working.

He is usually in the same room as you, but he is always doing something else. Feeding the geese or cooking or cleaning something. Or it’s the middle of the night and he is trying to sleep like the rest of the world, while your mind tells you “That idea is incredible and you have to draw it now or you will lose it!”.

«Well you sketch it, like this, then you make a model and then…» You continue to explain it, and he shows interest. You teach him about the dresses and the blouses, the shoes and the sandals, how to design a zip and what are the difficulties about it.

As you keep on, you find out he is watching you, not the sketches. «What?»

«You are fucking beautiful when you are passionate.» He whispers. He cups your cheek with his big hands. He is so gentle when he wants to, and he rarely wants to (you have bruises in mysterious places to prove that) but his touch can be the touch of a gentleman.

You try not to blush. «Why, thank you.»

«Thank you.» He leans out for another peck. 

«For what?»

This time the kiss is deeper, slower. He wants to prove to you that he is here, he is not going away. The scent of pines and woods is intoxicating, it’s the kind of scent you steal sweaters for.

«For being mine.»

PRESENT DAY

It happens in a moment. Haymitch takes a step back and then sees you and freezes. Marjorie looks at you with a guilty expression on her face. Everyone is paralyzed, until Ivy waves her little hand at you. She is adorable in a new pink dress, different from the one before. This baby has more dresses than you.

«Hi, Auntie Daisy!»

You can’t cry in front of a child, so you pat her head and you take your bag. 

Don't cry in front of Ivy, she'll think she did something wrong. Don't cry, don't cry.

«Goodbye.» You murmur, and you start running but Haymitch is right behind you. You don't even want to know what he has to say, you don't even care. He cheated on you. Kissing another person is cheating. Dear heavens, he is so jealous he would have killed someone if he was you.

«Daisy please-» He begins but this time you turn around quickly and you have such a murderous expression on your face that he takes a step back. He is a Victor and he adores it to remind you and to everyone else, and maybe you didn’t win anything, but you still survived the Hunger Games. You are a killer just like him, you have blood on your hands and nightmares too. He knows he can’t push it. He knows you are dangerous too and you are in therapy because of that, but therapy is not a miraculous system that cures you in two days.

«You don’t get to say please.» You are raging, and you are actually quite proud of yourself because your first instinct is to chop his head off. The second is to cry out loud, but now it would be showing weakness, and you won’t. The third instinct is, and you are very ashamed of yourself for that, to jump in his arms and forgive him immediately because the mere thought of not having him around is suffocating.

«Let me explain.»

«Did you fall and land on her lips?» You growl, a sound you rarely make.

«She kissed me.» He argues. 

«I know. I know she fucking kissed you!» You turn around again, but this time he is faster than you and circles around to face you. «But you let her!»

«No I didn’t, I was surprised, she barged into the house…» That’s another thing to explore. What was Marjorie doing in your house? Oh, wait, it’s his house, just his, not yours. What was Marjorie doing in his house? She magically sensed you two were having a fight or what?

«You were surprised? Surprised? Haymitch, she’s been after you for a whole year, how could you be surprised?» You yell, but now you don’t care. You are giving a pretty show for the village to see. «Do you even want me?»

«What? Of course I want you, Daisy, we have to get married.» We have to. Like it’s something he doesn’t want to do anymore, like it’s an imposition. You defloured the girl, you ruined her and now you have to marry her. Or maybe, maybe you were thrilling at first, the pretty young girl who has a thing for him, and now you are just a boring woman he has to deal with on a daily basis.

«Then why do you spend time with her?»

«She, she needed help. I owed her.» The same fucking excuse all the time. She did it because of me. She lost everything because of me. Well, the entire district lost everything because of you victors and you don’t see him befriend everyone around.

«You are full of shit. So righteous. The great Haymitch Abernathy, the victor!» You shout, like you are introducing him in a show.

«Daisy-» He tries to grab your arm, but you shake it off of you. He can’t take another step in your direction, you can’t be trusted around him. You like him too much, you love him too much, and if you thought you were smart and intelligent, around him you feel like you are too young. 

«Where was she when you were drinking? Did she clean you, did she stay with you? No, I did it. I was there. Don’t I deserve it too?» 

He should have known better. He should have known that he could have hurt you so much you now feel like you are dying. 

«Baby…»

«No Daisy, no baby and don’t you dare call me Sweetheart. I love you. But this is not working.»

His face goes pale in a second. «What?»

«We are not working. I can’t be the only one who cares about the wedding, and when I return home you say it’s your house and you kiss your ex fiancé!»

«We were sixteen.»

«You should tell her that, not me.» She is the one who kissed you. She is the one who is willingly ruining everything. You are the one who is letting her do it. 

«Daisy please, let’s talk about it. Please. Please, don’t give up on us.»

«You are giving up on us! Not me, you! I never even once looked at someone in the Capitol. You kissed her. For a moment, tell me the truth.»

«Yes... For a moment. I didn’t even know what I was doing!»

«I can’t.» You try hard not to cry. «I can’t, let me go.»

«No.»

«Let me go!» You slap him to free yourself. He watches you in disbelief, but you are walking to the train station.

You slapped him.

You hit him.

You don’t do this. You, as a couple, don’t hit each other. Even when things are not pretty, even when the urges are there because there are urges to hit when you are in the Hunger Games, you don’t cross the line.

You cry all your way to the Capitol. You have your sketches and not much more, just what was in your bag at the moment. Your luggage is still in Twelve, but the thought of going back is heavy. You always have your id and your documents in your purse, so you don’t need anything else. 

You keep thinking it was a mistake. He didn’t want to kiss Marjorie. You should come back. But your guts hurt and you don’t want to see him, not now.

Your Haymitch. This wasn’t a crush anymore, you loved him, you love him. And he loves you. He loves you, right? But if you love someone you don’t kiss someone else, this is not how it works, at least not for you. You see Perla, Effie or Lora are stunning but you don’t desire them, you only want him.

A voice tells you you couldn’t survive this. Your love flourished in war, you are at your best when your life is in danger, when everything is messy and chaotic and you don't know if there is going to be a tomorrow.

Some days are not good, some days you can't get out of bed. These days, Haymitch stays with you. He kisses your hair and keeps you in his arms, he doesn't care about tears on his shirt or smudge makeup from the day before.

«Don't worry, I'll protect you. I'm here now. Don't worry.» He sings like a chant in your ear, keeping you close.

«Forever?» You murmur.

«Forever and a day more, Sweetheart.»

Some days are bad for him too, days in which the urge for a drink is almost too strong for him to resist, the shaking is heavier and the headache is insufferable. He stays in the chair, worried he could hurt you, but you end up in his lap, stroking his hair and whispering sweet words. You are so strong, you are my man, you are courageous, be strong for me.

In this you excel. You are a great couple. But when things are quiet and calm and it’s all right to stop and breathe, you are not capable of doing it. 

You have no clue why he asked you to marry him if he doesn’t want to. You didn’t expect it, it’s not something you joked about, and you have been on cloud nine because of it but you are so young it wasn’t your first thought. But now it is, now you want to get married with him, you want to be Daisy Abernathy, to sign with his name and you are proud to be his.

He is not proud to be yours. He doesn’t care one bit.

You still have three days, so you stop in the only place you can disappear to. 

District Four.

When you knock at his door and he opens, Finnick Odair can’t believe you are there. His blonde hair is longer and he seems a bit tired, but he is handsome as always. You thought he was at work, but you now remember he doesn’t need to, he has the Victor’s money. Not everyone is like Peeta, who likes the bakery.

«Daisy?»

You try to resist, but you start crying hard and you push yourself in his arms. He is confused, you appeared in his district unannounced with no warning and you didn’t go to Perla but to him, but he is one of your best friends and you didn’t feel like giving any explanation to Perla. 

Perla doesn’t like Haymitch. She will probably be very happy.

«Daisy, hei, what happened? You are worrying me.» He hugs you back. You must be a sight, with crazy hair, puffy eyes and a red face, without makeup on. 

«I don’t think I’m with Haymitch anymore.»

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

«Do you like District Twelve?» Haymitch asks you. He is feeding the geese, and you are trying to mend a pair of his jeans, on the patio. The scene is so awfully domestic and you smile so widely it hurts.

You like living with Haymitch, lingering until ten in the morning in the bed, kissing every chance you can. It’s not forever, you will have a job but it’s the perfect recovery.

«Yeah, my love, I like the District where I was born and raised.» You laugh, «Why?»

«I mean, you didn’t choose it after the war. You didn’t even choose the house.» He shrugs. You can feel his brain working, he is one of those days. His hands are shaking more than usual and his mind goes in dark places. Places where he loses you, you go away because you are too young or too bright for him, at least it’s what he says.

«It’s a bit difficult when you are in a coma.» You deadpan as you see him walking towards you. 

«Very funny.» He strokes your cheek. «You are happy, right?» 

«I would have chosen it. I promise.» You get up to kiss him and you hum in joy when he puts his hands on the pockets of your trousers. «I would have chosen this house and this bedroom and this man over everything.»

«Isn’t it a bit boring for you?» Boring. You are not bored, you are never bored. You are enjoying your life, your peace. You thought you’d never have peace in your life ever again, so this is like paradise. 

«Boring? Are you bored?» Maybe this doubt is his. Maybe he is the one who wants his life back. The old grumpy man who lives alone with his animals. It must not be easy for him to share his space with you all the time, even if he is the one who decided it. He switched from doing everything alone, with no timetables or schedules whatsoever, with a freedom you could only have when you live alone, to stay with you twenty four hours per day, a routine he has to be a part of, not always leading it. And with you of all people, a person who he loves, but you are not the easiest girl alive. You scream at night because of the nightmares, you are clingy, you have difficulties at being alone.

«No, but I’m forty. It’s not exactly fun around here.»

«You are fun!» You protest. «I’m always very entertained, thank you very much. I get what you mean, it’s not Capitol’s “All parties and stuff”, but I’ll have my fair share of them when I get to Portia. And we could arrange a holiday in Four to see Finnick and the kid. That way of life is a holiday, tho, a trip. This is real life. And I love it.» The smile you only give to him it’s so blinding he has to believe you. 

«Yeah? You mending and me feeding the geese?» He goes for a peck that you decide to deepen, because he looks too good with his blonde hair in the sun and his eyes are so blue and his arms are majestic.

«Yes! And you cooking, and you baking, and you cleaning and you prepa- ah!» You squeal in surprise when he lifts you up in a laugh. «Ruffian! Put me down!»

«So it’s me cleaning and me cooking and me doing everything, and you?» He laughs, and he packs your ass.

«I look pretty.» You declare. 

«I’ll tell you pretty.»

«Put me down!»

«Nope.» He goes straight to the house, with you on his shoulder. «You look too fucking beautiful for me to release you.»

PRESENT DAY

«Here, a cup of tea.» Annie hands you a beautiful light blue mug and you take it with a brief smile. Annie is sweet, and you can’t see a glimpse of an annoyed reaction for your ambush, but you feel a little guilty. She is only twenty two and a kid under one year, she must be exhausted. 

«Are you sure I can stay here for a few days?» You ask her. You don’t feel like facing the truth, and you know you will need to give explanations. Effie has her problems, Lora too… Perla will comment on it and you can’t deal with it right now. You just want to lick your wounds in peace. And you are exhausted yourself.

«You are always welcomed here, darling.» She answers you with a sweet smile on her face. «Finnick is alive thanks to you.»

You actually don’t remember it this way. The way you know it, Finnick saved your life and now you are barely even.

«Go rest, my love.» Finnick kisses her cheek, with Finn asleep in his arms. «I’ll stay with Daisy.» 

The sight of the Odair family, two people so young and in love, with their perfect life, it’s almost unbearable. You are envious, and you still want them to be the pretty family they are but you want it too, and since you are a spoiled little brat the first instinct is to stamp your food and demand for it.

As she goes, he looks at you. «You are not bothering anyone here. Stay as long as you want to.»

You want to cry. You love him so much, and you love his wife too. You just want to go to bed and cry for a week. You feel like your heart is not beating anymore. You just want to stop everything.

«Are you sure it’s not too much for Annie? I can help with the baby.»

«I don’t work, Daz. I can handle it. Now, do I have to kill him? Because I’m quite good at it. And I look good doing it.»

You really want to laugh but when you try your eyes fill with tears, so you just shake your head. «No.» 

You quickly explain everything, and you must be really ridiculous in your yellow top and blue skirt, a happy outfit for what you’ve thought was a happy evening.

«Do you want to know what I think?»

«If it agrees with what I think, gladly.» You deadpan.

«I think you need to go back to Capitol City.» That’s new. You thought he was either going to say that you needed to talk to him or to forget him. 

«Ok, I thought I needed to-»

He stops you. «I don’t care now, and I think you need a few days. You have to sleep, Daisy. I’m sorry but you look like…»

«Shit?» You guess. 

He shrugs. «I wouldn’t put it in these words… but your eyes are red and you look terribly tired. Tell me what you usually do.»

«In a day?» 

«Yeah.»

«I fail to understand what it has to do with-»

«Just tell me.» He sits on the couch with you and he takes your hand. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until now. You don’t have a brother, but you feel a little like he is. He is the one that saves you, and sometimes you hope you save him a bit too.

«I work. Basically I work.»

«And nothing else?» The mere thought of doing anything else is not fun. You don’t want to think about anything else, just Haymitch, but if you think about Haymitch you want to cry and scream and punch him.

You shake your head. «I don’t have much time. I want to go back to… I wanted to go back to get married.»

«But you are losing all the Capitol experience! Hell, I hate that city, but it’s a giant amusement park. And you are not taking advantage of it. So, my friend…»

«Yeah?»

«I’ll rescue you. Again.»

Maybe a shower smut with eddie ? 😗

April Showers 🌧

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Its the beginning of track season at Hawkins High. And while your boyfriend is super supportive(from under the bleachers) of your athletic choices, you can't deny practice has taken up way to much of your time. And Eddie intends to make up for lost time.

Word count: 3.3k 😳🥲

TW: SMUT 18+ MINORS GO TOUCH SOME GRASS, DONT INTERACT, established relationship, Shower sex, semi public sex (girls locker room), its a quicky that feels like forever because im a slut for getting carried away rambling. Im sorry. swearing, Unprotected sex it's not stated but reader is on birth control. Just pretend. (don't be silly, wrap your willy. A pregnancy test is one Etch-a-sketch that can't be undid homeskillet) -Oral- (m receiving) Spit. He spits in readers mouth. Pet names(baby or babe i can't remember, princess & sweetheart) probably forgot something. If I did please tell me.

This is so unedited. And written. Late at night.

A/n: 1.) Thank you so much for requesting this. I was so exited exited write it.  With that said:

This is my first published work containing smut. Use lube and go easy on me I'll get better I swear. Give me feedback. Give me all the feedback.

2.)I never ran track. I don't know track season. So I'm sorry if this isn't accurate. I Googled HS track season and it said (training began oct-nov, with actual season being feb-may) and I just REALLY liked the title I picked. So sue me ��� and let me live in my fantasy world where after i had a choice I stopped participating in sports. Okay love you byeeee 😘

I do not give permission to have this posted anywhere else. (You'll only find it here and on my AO3 which is the same username) Please don't take my work. Ive worked hard on it and I'd like to continue doing it.

You were a good student. Reliable. Trustworthy. Responsible. Just a few adjectives thrown around by the faculty at Hawkins High. Which is why your guidance counselor and track coach had absolutely no problem giving you a spare key to the school gym and locker room only asking you clean up after yourself and lock up when you're done. Something you've been doing since last school year. You had a tendency to practice in the early hours of the morning. It was cool out. Quiet, with no one there to bother you. No overly horny teenage boys with way to much time on their hands and nothing better to do than yell scandalous risqué remarks at their classmates of the opposite sex simply because their little under developed, sex riddled, cavemen brains couldn't comput farther than: "Girls" "Shorts=ass" and running in a tee shirt was the closest half of them would ever get to seeing boobs bounce. Give them a few years. They may grow out of it.

For that late reason alone you preferred morning runs on the track. Reserving the after school evenings for team practice. Where you'd still try hard. But not hard enough to elicit said comments.

It's almost the end of April and most, if not all, of your time has been spent on this track. You began as soon as the leaves started falling in mid October at the indoor gym at the request of your coach. But it was a drive. Which is what prompted you to ask to use the gym in the mornings last year once it got semi warm enough to begin using the outdoor track.

If you weren't on the track you had your nose shoved in some AP class workbook. Grades were very important to you. Just as important as sports. As they went hand in hand. This unfortunately meant skipping out on plans with your friends. Often.

Which also meant having to "rain check" dates with your boyfriend. Claiming

"Unless you're going to throw 'Study' in front of that 'date' word, we're going to have to give it a rain check."

Now you'd think most guys would love a good 'Study' date. Not your boyfriend. It's as if the word itself was dipped in holy water and burned him simply thinking about it. Which is funny considering who he is. That's right. Little Ms. Straight A's Sporty McSportsPants boyfriend was none other than the infamous Devil worshiping, master of the occult, every parents worst nightmare for their sweet baby, friendly neighborhood bad boy.

Eddie. Mother fucking. Munson.

And although his chocolate button, puppy dog eyes were so close to making you say "fuck it" and toss your books in the air. You had to be the level headed responsible one of you both. Easier said than done. You'd not hadn't had much time together in months. Aside from the half hour at lunch, Mrs. O'Donnell's class (which she conveniently had you both on separate ends of the classroom) the few minutes after practice you got before having to rush home for dinner, and a night filled with homework. Your time together was really few and far between. And while it made you both sad, Eddie would still find cute ways to keep you from getting discouraged. From cute notes of encouragement in your locker on days you'd have track meets. (Especially the ones you were nervous about) Throwing rocks at your window after your parents had gone to bed to get some time in with you till you fell asleep. Even if it was only 10 minutes. And sometimes if you looked real close you'd see him under the bleachers cheering you on. You really couldn't understand why everyone thought the awful things they did about him.

On this particular morning it was cool out. Slightly windy. And very overcast. The gray sky looking like it would give way to rain at a moments notice. You almost opted to not practice this morning. But you had a big meet coming up this Saturday and there was no way you were losing. You pulled your Hawkins High Tigers hoodie off exposing your skin to the cool air. Letting out a shiver you jogged to the track. Looking at your watch

5:30am (this should be illegal)

Setting your alarm for 6:30, giving yourself exactly one hour before you needed to head to the locker room and hit the shower. Kids would start arriving by 7:30. This would give you the perfect amount of time to Shower, dry your hair and drop your clothes in your locker before grabbing a muffin and heading to class.

You begin running your laps and time just runs away with you. Though you're not racing a physical person you feel a sense of competition. You're racing time. And time is racing you.

~~~~♤~~~~~♡~~~~~♤~~~~

You made it 30 minutes in before you heard it. The soft low rumble of the incoming thunder announcing the imminent approaching storm. The wind began to pick up as well. Not that you'd complained it helped keep you cool for the most part.

Deciding not to chance it you run off to the bleachers and grab your bookbag along with your duffle that had your change of clothes, shampoo, towel and all important keys that granted you access to the areas of the school you needed. And with that you jogged to the school building.

As you reach the girls locker room you head into the shower room and turn the water on allowing it enough time to heat up. You exit back to the locker room and begin to remove your shoes and socks. But just as you're getting to your shorts you hear the door open. Causing you to pause.

"Hello? This room is currently being used."

Nothing.

"If there's someone in here you have exactly 3 seconds to make yourself known or I'll borrow Bethany's softball bat. And ive been told I've got a pretty good swing." You yell out.

"I'd love to see you swing a bat. Bet it be hot as hell."

You jump, turning on a heel to face the intruder. He's smirking at you from under that beautiful mess of hair.

"Edward Alan Munson, I can and I will if ever do that again. What are you doing here?" you ask confused. Knowing this man isn't known for getting up early.

"Firstly, just because Wayne let it slip the one night he came home early and saw us making out on the couch, doesn't mean my middle name is available for public use. Even if it's from someone as cute as you. And it is super cute when you use it in your 'I'm so serious tone." he boops your nose.

"Secondly, I knew you'd be here even if a tornado threatened to rip the school down to its foundation because you have your meet against Greenwood on Saturday and, for reasons I'll never understand in the world of sports, you'd rather die than let them win this year."

You rolled your eyes with a smile at his comment. It was a true statement.

"And thirdly, I'll take any time I can get with you." He smirks dropping his jacket and vest all in one go. "You just say the word. It's always better to shower with a friend. Conserve water you know. Great for the planet. Wouldn't want you to slip in there." His brain thinking of more excuses. But he's cut off as soon as he sees you slowly walk backward toward the showers pulling your shirt off and winking at him before dropping your shorts, grabbing your shampoo & body wash and walking through the door. And he's so quick to shed the rest of what's in the way almost falling and breaking his neck trying to get his jeans off. With a final tug his shirt falls to the ground and he's running after you like a kid in a candy store to the showers.

You were already under the water, in an attempt to try and at least was your body before all hell broke loose, when you feel his hands slowly snake around your hips a he pulls you closer to him. Until you feel his skin against yours. And his very prominent hard on pressed against your back. A shiver of excitement pulses through you in every direction as he slowly sweeps his hands across your body. Agonizingly slow. You lean your head back against his chest and he let's out a chuckle.

"Someone seems a little stressed." He says into your ear in a breathy voice that has your legs turning to jello. His hands feather light skimming across your breasts. So light you might have missed it if weren't for him adding the slightest of weight to his hand as he circled your nipper.

You felt yourself begin to relax under his touch. A breathy moan as you say his name,

"Eddie."

The verbal action making his cock twitch against your back.

"Yes Princess." He teased.

"Touch me, please."

"I am touching you." He laughed.

What he'd give to take his time with you. He'd have you so relaxed to the point you'd forget your own name. Only remembering his because he'd have you screaming it repeatedly. But he knew you were both on borrowed time so he cut to the chase.

"Okay sweetheart but only because you asked so nicely." He kissed the side of you temple as his hands moved lower and lower. Till he was still semi teasing you by gently rubbing your legs.

"Edd-" you didn't even get his name out before he said

"Let's see just how excited you are for me" and dipping his middle and ring finger to swipe through your slick folds.

Eliciting a moan that could only be described by Eddie as what the heavens must sound like.

"Jesus baby, even you can't play this one off as shower water. You're absolutely soaked." He said softly biting your ear. You're a mess, as he slides his fingers up slowly till he finds your clit and begins running soft figure eights into the little nub. Not enough to do to much but enough to get you more worked up.  If it wasn't for Eddie holding you up right now you'd fall to the floor.

Which gives you an idea. Since you're kinda on a time crunch. You pull his hand away, even though it pained you to do it. Turn around, and grab his face before he can protest bridging the gap you've caused between you two for the most intense kiss to ever exist at 6:48 in the morning. A clashing of teeth and tongue but only for a brief moment.  Because before the boy in front of you could register the series of events unfolding in front of him you drop to your knees looking up at him through wet lashes (which he's now moved to the top of his list of 'hottest images of my girlfriend burned into my brain to date')

Giving a slight devilish smile before running your hands delicately over his things in almost the same slow, agonizing pace he was teasing you with not moments ago.

Throwing his head back you hear him mutter a "fuuuuuck me" to which you replied "oh trust me i plan to" as you grasp his length in your left hand and begin stroking a few times. Making sure to run your thumb over his aching tip that's beading with pre-cum to gather it and as he looks down you stick in your mouth to suck off. A sort of pre-warning. One that he can barely handle. And with a pop you remove your thumb replacing back on his aching cock, pumping once. Twice. Thrice before giving the prominent vein under his cock a lick from base to tip finally taking as much of him in as you possibly could. Thank God for the wall behind him because he throws his head back and becomes one with the wall thrusting his hand into your hair and gathering it to keep it out of your face.

"F-Fuckin hell. You are so damn good at that. God's baby who knew such a good girl could have such a bad mouth."

The moan you release sending sweet vibrations to parts of him he didn't know existed. Its all going to his head. And rather quickly. You begin pumping what you can't fit as you continue bobbing your head up and down at a pace Eddie has deemed 'fucking perfect'.

"God baby if you keep up like this I won't last much longer." He looks down.

You look up at him with doe eyes through lashes coated in tiny water droplets. He's died and gone to heaven. He feels his release nearing and he's quick to remove himself before he does. Lifting you up to your feet.

"As much as I'd love to cum down your throat. Let's I don't know rain check it," He jests, 'because right now I want to fuck you up against," He paused looking at the 3 available walls in this shower wall eliminating the one with the knobs and shower head, "that wall. But first open, since i know you were so looking forward to having my cum run down your throat. Here's a substitute." He quickly takes his middle and ring finger, swiping them up your soaking cunt, returning them to his mouth to quickly suck and savor how you taste on his tongue. He taps your jaw and your quick to open for him. As he spits a mixture of your slick and his spit into your mouth.

"Swollow." He doesn't have to ask twice. And because he can't help himself his mouth is quick to seek out yours in a passionate kiss filled with teeth, tongue and the fact this will be way faster than either of you want it to be. Suddenly he's tapping your thighs signaling you to jump and you do. Your back is met with the cool stall wall as Eddie is quick to line himself up with your center. There's no slowness anymore. You've all but run out of time, students would start arriving soon. And from previous moments with Eddie you both came to the realization, you weren't quiet. And you couldn't be even if you wanted to.

As he slides in you let out a pornagraphic moan and let your head fall back against the wall. Legs wrapping around his waist, one arm half hazardly drapped around his neck the other holding his shoulder. He stretches you out perfectly. And you fit him just as well.

"F-fuckin hell you're so goddamn tight. Just sucking my cock in. God I can feel you tightening around me."

You rock your hips a little to signal he's okay to move. And boy does he move. He slowly begins to piston in and out of you. Breathing heavy as the shower water falls down like the impending rain. It's probably raining right now. He begins kissing down your jaw to your neck getting to your collar bone where he begins sucking and biting, just a small mark. He likes looking at them later.

You're a moaning, swearing mess. Praying no one hears anything and decides to come looking to make sure a student isn't hurt. Which would be very awkward and extremely frustrating as you can feel that coil in you winding up, so close to snapping. And as if on cue Eddie snaps his hips up in such a way he hits that magic button and just like that his name tumbles out of your mouth. The only name you'll remember for the rest of the day.

Eddie.

RIGHT THERE

Eddie!

EDDIEEEEE

FUCK EDDIE DONT STOP

IM GONNA CU-

He continues his pistoning into that spot with everything he has in him. He's chasing his high and yours. His free hand snakes down to rub on your bundle of nerves in such a perfect way that he has you coming undone in seconds. Following behind you moments later. He slows his thrusting down as you ride out your highs. You rest your forehead on his as you both try to slow your eradicate breathing.

After a moment he pulls out of you slowly, trying his best not to make you uncomfortable. Still holding onto you because you currently have the legs and dexterity of a newborn deer. He kisses your nose as he reaches over and puts some shampoo in his hand returning to massage it into your hair.

"God he's perfect." You think to yourself with a small giggle.

"And whats, pray tell does the lady find funny." He smirks.

"You give me an mind altering orgasm. And now you're washing my hair. It's just cute is all."

"I'm making up for lost time. I believe you have at the very least 30 more coming your way in the near future. Not all at once. But I'm sure I can pull a few out of you with each of our upcoming 'Study' dates. I do need to pass Mrs. O'Donnell's class if i want to walk that stage with you. And I fully intend to." He winks. His statement making you're eyes widen and a blush fall across your cheeks.

"As long as we actually study first Edward Ala-" He cuts you off with quick kiss tilting your head back enough allow the water to wash the shampoo away without it getting into your eyes.

"I recall mentioning the ban of using my full name. But I'll excuse it this time as your brain is still probably a bit to fried." He smiles giving your forehead a quick kiss. And then you hear it. Your watch alerting you that it's 7:30. Fuck you'd have no time to dry your hair. Both mentally cursing the beeping noise, Eddie turns off the water.

"I'll go out first. And quickly get dressed. I'll set your clothes in here on the bench." You give him a kiss as he nods at your plan.

You grab your towel and quickly wrap yourself. Walking fast into the locker room. Pulling your clothes out. Sliding on all the articles. As quickly as you could without paying attention.

Trying to use the towel to dry your hair as best you could before running a brush through quickly and tossing it into a ponytail.

You run to gather all of Eddie's clothes and then set them on the bench.

"The towels a bit wet but it's here too. I'll see you in a minute." You smile as you hear the stall unlock.

Grabbing your bag you make sure the coast is clean before waiting outside the girls locker room door. A few moments later Eddie emerges.

"Hey sweetheart, come here often." He winks at you. Making you giggle.

"Occasionally. Do you?"

"I sure as hell might start coming more often." He grabs your backpack from your shoulder slinging it over his are before throwing his free arm around your shoulder.

"What do you say we go find our rowdie band of weirdos. They can't be left alone for too long. Especially not with Henderson.

"Okay let's go find your freshman children." You say, lacing your fingers in the hand draped around your shoulder. "I'd hate to think what weird heated conversation topic Dustin has Mike and Gareth. Kid gets a level over passionate about many things." Causing both of you you break out laughing.

"It's his tone. I swear it's his tone." Eddie breathes out. As you approach the cafeteria you look outside.

Just like you thought it's absolutely pouring out.

"Eddie." You whisper into his ear at a sudden realization before finding everyone at the table.

"Hmm" He looks at you puzzled.

"Eddie. We're both wet. They'll know why I am. But you never this awake this early. This," you look him up and down before finishing, "wet. They're going to know."

As he looks out the window.

He looks back at you with a smirk.

"I'd blame it on the rain. But I doubt they'd believe me."

April Showers is an understatement.

13. The Last Time

Part Thirteen to Every Little Thing!

CW: No smut but drunk!Gator lol

Then

Marseille was different from what Daphne had expected. The girls she’d been traveling with insisted it was dangerous, that they would have a rough time their whole stay. It wasn’t like the other parts of France that she had visited, but she didn’t think it was that dangerous either. 

She met Hugh at a bar, her sorrows drowning out the feeling of loneliness as loud music blared around her. She’d slowly been trying to work up the courage to make her way up to the karaoke spot, but each time a new person went up she sank lower and lower into her seat.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his accent thick and heavy as he pushed something towards her. She felt her eyes widen, slightly surprised by how attractive he was. His hair was dark with messy curls on top of his head. He had a strong jawline that she was still able to make out from the thick stubble across his cheeks. 

Her heart lurched inside of her chest for the first time in a long time. She didn’t feel the same way she had felt when she looked at Gator, but she thought it was similar enough. The stranger was handsome. He didn’t share Gator’s looks, but he did have matching dark hair and hazel eyes. 

“Huh?” She glanced towards him curiously, leaning a little closer so she could hear him better. She blinked, realizing he was pointing towards the napkin on the bar, “Oh, is this me?” She was surprised as she looked down at the sketch, a flush beginning to spread across her cheeks. The lines were thick and jumbled, but she could clearly tell that it was her. 

“Is it alright?” He asked her, his lips curling into the gentlest smile as he watched her expression. She nodded her head quickly, really flattered at his actions. It was perhaps the most creative way she’d been flirted with since she’d been here. 

“Yeah,” She grinned as she looked up towards him, her cheeks hot, “Thank you. It’s really pretty.” She smiled as she pushed her back towards him, her stomach flipping at the way their fingertips barely pressed against one another. 

She learned that his name was Hugh and his family had nothing to do with him. He didn’t mention why and she didn’t press for too many details. She liked the way he spoke, how it was rough and raspy and how he’d sometimes have to pause to think of the word he was looking for.  He was a struggling artist, but he had thought about getting into Biology for the longest time. He had ultimately decided against it, claiming that it wasn't his dream.

She kissed him back at his apartment that night, pretending his lips were a softer shade of pink and his skin was smooth and clean shaven. She thought that his hair could feel similar to Gator’s when he didn’t slick it back, though it wasn’t as thick. She didn't feel as lonely with his hands on her waist and his tongue in her mouth. She suddenly felt alive, even if her chest was swarming with guilt as she thought of Gator. 

“Wait,” Hugh stopped them before it got too far, breaking them apart roughly, “Not yet. I just- I want to get to know you first.” He reasoned and she was more than happy to go along with that reason. She hadn’t slept with anyone but Gator and she really wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. She agreed with taking it easy, thinking that it would give her a real reason to clear her head. 

Things were easy between the two of them. Hugh liked to listen to her and even more he liked to try and help her solve her problems. She was sure that he thought he knew her like the back of his hand, but he was very wrong. She didn’t think he knew her at all. She didn’t want him to know her, not really. She was ashamed of a lot of things but mostly she worried that if she scratched the wound open again, everything would come rushing out in a bloody stream. It would be like she never really moved on. 

She liked to write in her free time. She wasn’t good at writing stories or journaling, but she wasn’t too bad at poetry and lyrics. It just frustrated her. By the end of her sessions, all she could think about was Gator and what she thought was their lost love. She was sure that he wasn’t even thinking about her right now. It just made her feel all alone all over again. She wasn't sure if she would ever rid of the feeling, even with Hugh at her side.

“They’re just silly lyrics,” She shook her head in panic one afternoon that Hugh had stumbled across them, reaching her hand out again in hopes that he’d hand the journal back, “It’s nothing.” She brushed off the way he had his eyebrow raised, like he was really analyzing what she was saying. 

“These are really good.” He took her by surprise, grinning as he looked over his shoulder. She bit her lip, trying to keep her excitement at bay. 

“You’re just saying that.” She brushed him off, thinking of the way Bruce had told her that she had been wasting her time. She just did this for fun. It wasn’t anything serious. She knew that it never would be. 

“No, I mean it,” He replied as he smiled towards her, “I really like these. Who is this guy you speak of?” He questioned her, tilting his head as the smile suddenly fell from her face. She felt a bitter feeling forming deep inside of her stomach. She didn’t want to be reminded of Gator and she certainly didn’t want to speak of him to Hugh. 

“It’s just a fantasy,” She said softly, her heart suddenly raw and sore as she glanced away, “No one.” She brushed him off, shrugging her shoulders as she closed the book and hid it away once again. 

//////////////////////////

“You know,” Ruby paused softly over the phone one sunny afternoon. Daphne was sitting outside on the balcony, breathing in the fresh sea air after her shift at the bookstore, “He still asks about you.” She brought up slowly, making Daphne’s heart shrink in size. 

Despite it being so long, two years now, it still hurt her. She had moved in with Hugh since then. They were comfortable, still going slow and trying to adjust to one another. Sometimes he felt like more of a roommate than a boyfriend, but he was sweet. He pushed her towards her dreams and supported her when she needed it. 

“I gotta go,” Daphne said quickly, her heart hammering roughly inside of her chest, “I’m taking a few cooking classes, you know, branching out a bit.” She told her mom, lying about what she would be doing after this. She was sure that she would just collapse on her bed and try to erase the memory of Gator. She stopped, noticing that her hand was resting over her stomach again. 

“Oh, why waste all that money when you could come back home and I could teach you for free?” Ruby asked her seriously, sighing deeply like she didn’t understand. Ruby had been more supportive than Bruce had been. 

“It’s different food than you make,” Daphne teased her softly, “I miss you.” She told her truthfully, still not believing that it had been so long since she’d felt her mother’s arms around her. She missed her hugs, her cookies and the way she made hot chocolate when Daphne was sick. 

“When are you coming home?” Ruby asked her softly, her voice sounding raw again. Daphne always hated this part. She felt like she was hurting more people than just herself at this point. 

“Soon,” Daphne promised as she brushed her thumb across her bottom lip, “I just have to figure a few things out.” She mumbled, watching the way her fingertips drew soft circles over her empty stomach. 

“What things?” Ruby questioned, “You know, my mom told me it was never good to run from my problems.” She pointed out, sounding a little stern but also playful. Daphne had listened to many stories about her grandmother’s sayings before. 

“I don’t have any problems,” Daphne shook her head as she brushed her fingertips through Birdie's fur once he jumped up on her lap, “I just want to explore a little bit.” She said at last, breathing in deeply through her nose. 

They said their goodbyes, taking a little bit longer than usual this time around. She was a little saddened for sometime, realizing just how deeply she missed her mother as she continued to give Birdie pets. He purred in response, curling deeper into her chest. 

“Was that your mom?” Hugh peeped his head out, a tint of blue on his cheeks as he looked towards her. She sniffled and nodded her head quickly. 

“Yeah,” Daphne smiled, “She’s worried, as usual.” She laughed softly, brushing off any concern that he might have. 

“What does she think of me?” He asked her suddenly, taking her completely by surprise. She felt her jaw go slack as she quickly tried to think of the response. 

“Oh,” Daphne paused for a moment, “She loves you. You know, she can’t wait to meet you.” She lied rapidly, blushing as she realized she hadn’t said much about Hugh at all. The little that she had said, she could tell that they weren’t fans of him. 

“Really?” He asked, looking a little hopeful as he spoke. She tried not to hide into her chair, knowing that he probably appreciated it from the lack of communication from his own family. 

“Oh yeah,” She nodded her head quickly, “She just thinks you’re incredible.” She told him softly, trying not to think of the way her parents raved about Gator. They still kept her updated. He was a deputy sheriff now and she wondered if he thought about her at all. 

/////////////////////

She found a picture of them one afternoon, surprising even herself as she was sure she had left them all behind. Her heart ached as she held it up, looking at the way she fit easily into his lap. It was one that she’d taken on her phone, a selfie from a day of swimming at the crick. She could make out their matching tattoos in this picture. 

“Where are you?” Hugh’s voice rang out from their tiny apartment, making her jolt in surprise as she quickly fumbled the picture frame. 

“Oh, uh,” She paused as she shuffled the photo into the bottom of her underwear drawer, “Just sorting through some things.” She replied awkwardly, her voice a little shrill as she quickly tried to shut the drawer. She winced, pain erupting through her fingertips as she slammed her fingers in the wood. She yelped, yanking them free as she tried to jerk the pain out before Hugh entered the room. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Hugh shifted awkwardly as he looked down at her, one eyebrow raised at the way she was fumbling with her hands, “I mean, do you want to go out for dinner?”

“Oh,” She looked at him, taken aback before she nodded her head in agreement, “Yeah. Of course.” She grinned, feeling a little casual about the whole ordeal. 

She dressed nicely, wearing her prettiest blue dress as he took her to a fancier restaurant than normal. She was surprised, unsure of how he’d be able to afford it but she kept those comments to herself. She was just glad that he was treating her so sweetly. 

Dinner was nice, but she could tell that something was wrong by the way he kept drifting off. He didn’t even appear nervous, just like he was distracted by something else. Her smile continued to grow stiffer by the end of the night as she was unsure of what he wanted. Yet he still paid for everything, even managed to get her favorite dessert from the bakery that was always busy and sold out.

“Daphne,” He breathed out softly after he drank the rest of his wine, cleaning out the entire bottle, “Will you marry me?” He said it a little louder than she was prepared for, her eyes widening at the amount of people that turned in their direction in interest.

She suddenly felt rushed from being accidentally put on the spot. She felt her body warming, flushing clear down to her toes as she tried to think of a way to go about this. There was no easy way, just one solution.

“Yes.” She answered quickly, her eyes wide with surprise at her own words as she pictured someone else asking her. 

Now

Things had moved so fast. She wasn’t planning on rushing the wedding or doing it overnight, but she also wasn’t sure what to say to deny it.

Something had gone wrong with Hugh’s visitation papers. They’d tried to work it out together, but it was clear he wasn’t getting the three months that he was allotted. He was going to get deported. It felt like her hands were tied behind her back. She had tried to argue at first, but when he had begun to question her on why it mattered she froze.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to do it, she just thought that she’d have more time to clear out her jumbled mind and conflicted feelings. Hugh didn’t make her feel the same way that Gator did. She knew that without a doubt. 

“Are you all set?” She asked Hugh softly, fiddling with his tie as his bag sat on the counter ready to go. He nodded his head, his fingers twitching a little nervously as he looked down at her.

“I think so,” He said softly, “It can’t be that bad, can it?” He asked her, looking a little panicked as she felt a smile form on her lips. Bruce was mad, but he wouldn’t do anything that dumb.

“No,” She told him truthfully, “It’s a guy's trip. They’re just going to, you know, fish and other stuff. Watch out for the hooks.” She teased him, brushing her fingertips across the place where he’d been stabbed.

“Right,” He grinned as he leaned down to peck her lips, “You’ll be alright here?” He looked a little worried, like she might be afraid of being on her own. She was glad for it. She wanted a good cry from her last conversation with Gator. He’d cut her deep. 

She spent the night in her most comfortable pajamas, enjoying a glass of lemonade on her own after she ate a whole frozen pizza to herself. She tried to distract herself by rewatching the Princess Diaries movies, but it didn’t matter. She kept thinking of Gator. 

A sound from upstairs made her jolt. She paused, confirming that Birdie was next to her before she settled back into her seat. She reminded herself that this was a new house, that the floorboards were still adjusting.

By the second loud sound she knew that she had to investigate. She crept up the stairs slowly, gripping a crow bar that had been left in the unfinished dining room. She moved slowly, her heart hammering roughly in her chest as she peeped into the bedroom. 

She paused, dropping the crowbar as she quickly crossed the room, noticing how the window was partially opened and how the body was stuck between the glass. 

“Gator?” She looked at him in shock, quickly pushing the window open as he stumbled through head first, “Shoot. What are you doing?” She asked him harshly, feeling angry at the way he just thought he could come into her house. She was angry. She meant that she didn’t want to see him again. He was mean to her. 

“Seeing you,” He slurred, “Is that okay, or is your husband here?” She opened her mouth, about to tell him where Hugh was before she stopped herself. She didn’t owe him anything. Not after what he’d said about her. 

“You’re drunk,” She told him softly, wincing at the loud way his boots hit the floor, “I thought you didn’t care?” She asked him seriously, picking up his boots so she could shove him out of her house.

“You said that first.” He said harshly as he pointed to her, staggering closer as his eyes glazed over in hurt. She looked at him surprised, wondering where he came up with that idea. 

“I never said-,” She started to protest, shaking her head in defense of herself. 

“You did,” Gator spit out, fire in his eyes as he peered at her in disbelief, “You left. You left me. Just like everyone else.” He said as he began to laugh, the whiskey rolling off of his tongue and smacking her in the face. 

“Gator,” She exhaled sharply, her features relaxing as she took in what he was meaning, “I didn’t mean for it to be like that.” She said honestly, her chest aching at the realization of what he must’ve thought when she was gone. She didn’t want it to be like that. She didn’t want to be compared to his mom who had just up and left him. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, because he was right in a way. She had left. 

“It was like that,” He said with a small laugh, “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t contact me. It was like you were a ghost, a memory.” He held his hands out as he spoke, gesturing towards her in amusement. She met his eyes, noticing the glazed pain that was swirling inside of them. She sighed deeply, understanding that he’d probably been drinking for the longest time. 

“I’m sorry,” She replied gently, truly meaning her words as she looked up at him. She paused, reaching her arms out slowly to hold onto his biceps to steady him, “I -, I really didn’t think you’d care.” She told him honestly, but was beginning to wonder if that was just her being selfish. “Why would I not care?” He shook his head, nearly too fast as he stumbled a little closer to her, “You mean everything to me.” She shivered, trying to remind herself that he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the moment. He probably wasn’t being serious. She wasn’t sure if she could handle his drunken confessions. 

“You didn’t want anything serious, remember?” She reminded him softly, watching the way he jolted away from her and held his head back in frustration, “No. I gave you my heart and you said you were too young. You didn’t want that yet. I wasn’t going to wait for you to change your mind.”

“So you just leave?” He blinked roughly, his eyes looking a smidge red, “Like those other worthless bitches?” He spat out, venom in his voice as he continued to stumble about and bump into her. His words still slightly hurt, but she understood where he was coming from this time around. 

“If you’re going to be an ass again, you can leave,” She said at last, not wanting to fight with him again. She was too tired to deal with the screaming, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She said honestly, but clearly knew now just how badly it must’ve been for him. She felt awful, worse than she had before.

“You left to clear your head, I get it now,” He looked at her, leaning forward fast enough that his usual slicked back hair fell onto his forehead, “You’re selfish. Everything is about you.” He pointed at her again, this time his finger brushed against her shoulder. She looked down at where they touched before she shook her head. He had no idea what she had gone through. At one point she had felt like she lost everything. She was still partially in that mindset. 

“That’s not fair,” She responded, her heart thumping harshly against her ribcage. Her bottom lip wobbled, “I was going to tell you. I just needed-,” She held her hands out, unsure of how to explain it. She hated that she felt like she was peeling the layer of her heart back, exposing where it hurt to him. She didn’t even know how to explain it herself. 

“To run.” He finished for her, his eyes still fiery like he was challenging her to disagree. She felt on the spot suddenly, not liking how it was all suddenly her fault. She had done things wrong, but he hadn’t been completely innocent either. 

“Gator,” She drew in a soft breath, “If you feel that way about me, maybe you should just go. I can’t do this right now.” She told him seriously, determined that he wouldn’t see her cry tonight. She had a feeling he might mock her for it. 

“What?” He looked at her,  his lips curling into a wide smile as he laughed, “Too busy with your husband? Seems like you’re having a nice wedding night.” He continued to laugh, like it was funny as he stumbled back against the bed.

“Why did you come here?” She spit out in anger, shoving at his chest so she could get him out of her room. He stumbled back a few steps, instantly making her reach out to grab him again by the way he nearly tripped over his feet.

He laughed, falling forward as he wrapped his arms around her. His chin brushed against her forehead as he roughly rubbed his hands across her shoulders. She breathed in deeply, sighing at the way his lips began to drag against her skin. 

“Missed you,” He mumbled, “It has been a long time since I saw you.” He breathed out, as if they hadn’t just seen each other yesterday. She took a shaky breath, tilting her head away as he tried to bring his lips down upon hers. He kissed along her cheek instead, all messy and sloppy as his nose bumped against her skin. 

“You’re drunk,” She told him softly, shushing him as he quickly tried to protest, “You need to go home. I can’t see you right now.” She told him honestly, figuring that he would just be worse if he was around her. He clearly wasn’t happy with her. She didn’t think she could handle a whole night of him yelling at her. 

“I don’t want to,” He responded quickly, whining as she slowly began to drag him down the hallway, “I wanna stay.” He pulled away, knocking his fist back against the bare walls harshly. He winced, rubbing at the skin as she tried to balance him again.

Her frustration was beginning to grow, she could feel a headache forming as she tried to think of the best way to approach him. She opened her mouth to speak, only to notice the way he was suddenly growing pale. She quickly grabbed his hand, ushering him towards the bathroom in haste.

They made it just in time. He roughly fell to his knees, the sound echoing in the house as he bent over the toilet and emptied his stomach. She winced, patting at his back and looking away as it took everything in her to keep from gagging. 

When he was finished he sat back against the wall, wiping at his mouth as she moved to quickly flush the evidence away. She frowned, kneeling next to him as she moved a few strands of hair from his forehead. She rubbed at his cheek, her heart hammering as she watched the dazed look that filled his eyes. She felt bad, awful. She really had left him. 

“Here,” She mumbled softly, slowly beginning to strip his messy shirt off of his shoulders, “You’re messy.” She said gently, watching the way his brown eyes fluttered up towards her. She ignored the way her heart was hammering as she gently took his hands in hers and helped him stand on his feet. 

“I don’t feel good.” He groaned softly, moving towards her as she squeezed at his hips softly. She moved around him, quickly turning on the water so it could warm up for him. He teetered back and forth, his chest hair brushing against her arm as he did so. “You drank too much,” She confirmed before she began to unbuckle his belt, “A shower will help.” She tried to reassure him as she let his pants fall to the floor. She gave him a warning look as she pulled his boxers down next, ignoring the sly whistle that fell from his lips. 

She struggled for a moment, wincing as he gripped the top of her head to balance himself as she pulled his pants, boxers and socks free from his body. She sat up, kicking his dirty clothes away before she unpackaged one of the new toothbrushes she’d just bought. She put a line of toothpaste on it, hoping to make his mouth taste better. 

“Come in with me,” He said softly as he gripped her wrist, “Please.” She looked up towards him, nodding softly in agreement. She didn’t speak it outloud, but she didn’t plan on leaving him on his own anyways. She was too afraid she’d find him passed out if she left. 

“Okay,” She said softly, nodding gently as she held onto him so he could clamber into the tub. She paused, feeling like this wasn’t the best idea. If Hugh happened to come back for whatever reason at this time, there would be no explaining why she was showering with Gator, “Scoot over.” She told him, deciding that she’d deal with that later as she stripped out of her pjs.

“What have you been doing?” He mumbled as he turned towards her, standing straight under the shower head so the water was racing down his head. She tried not to laugh as she reached out of the curtain to grab the tooth brush that she had set up. 

“Watching movies with Birdie,” She mumbled softly as she began to scrub at his teeth. He protested at first, before ultimately giving in as she gently scrubbed at his teeth and then his tongue and the roof of his mouth, “Were you out partying or just partying by yourself?” She teased him as she cleaned the brush with the shower water. She watched as he spit into the drain before he answered her.

“A bit of both,” He admitted, “I would’ve preferred if you were there.” She nodded along softly as she washed the gel from his hair, unsure of how to handle him when he was being so vulnerable. It wasn’t a sight that she was used to. 

She gently hummed along, watching the way his eyes fluttered as she dragged her fingertips through his scalp. He swayed back and forth, lingering against the stream of water. She thought a lot of what he had said to her, the good and the bad. She felt guilty above everything else. She didn’t want to leave him the same way his mom had. She didn’t like being compared to Linda. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” She laughed softly, shivering as a gust of cold air hit her. She didn’t mind that much though, thinking that Gator looked cute as he let the warm water pound against his back, “I don’t think I can carry you back to bed.” She told him softly, placing a gently kiss against his shoulder as he moved to rest against her. 

“Tired,” He mumbled against her skin. She rubbed at his skin softly, unsure if it was water or drool that was leaking against her shoulder, “Really tired.” He said dreamily as he held onto her, his fingers loosely pressing against her skin. 

“Are you done showering?” He nodded his head lamely, stumbling again like his knees might buckle. She moved her hands to his face, pulling him away gently to confirm that his eyes were shut, “Hey, let’s go sleep in the bed. It’s more comfortable than here.” She told him seriously, knowing there was no way she’d get him off the floor again if he went down.  Not while he was like this. 

Gator was far too out of it to do much more than lean against the shower wall. She wrapped her hair in a towel, then her body before she began to shimmy a free towel around his wet skin. She scrubbed softly, smiling at the way his eyes continued to flutter shut. She reminded herself to get him some water before he officially laid down. 

She felt bad as she wrapped a towel around his waist. She’d have to put him in a pair of Hugh’s clothes, as it didn’t feel right dressing him in his dirty outfit. She quickly dressed herself, not bothering to brush her hair out as she helped him stumble back through the hallway. 

Hugh’s shirt was slightly baggy on Gator, but she figured it would keep him from freezing. He didn’t seem to notice whose it was regardless as he continued to observe her, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion and a need to sleep. 

“Here,” She crouched down on the floor in front of him, “Lift up your foot.” She commanded softly, patting against his right leg gently. She gazed over his knees, noticing that they were indeed red from how hard he hit the floor. He reacted instantly to her touch, moving his leg nearly too high as she began to place a pair of Hugh’s old pj pants on him. 

She held onto his hands, gently helping him stand before she pulled the pants up over his waist. They were still a size too big and he laughed at the way they began to slide down as soon as he plopped back onto the bed. 

“Drink this,” She said softly, handing him her tumbler of water, “Feel any better?” She asked him, pushing his hair back softly as he brought the cold water up to his lips. He took big gulps, large enough that part of the water slid out of the corner of his lips. 

She quickly wiped it from the corner of his mouth, not caring about his drool as she wiped it onto her pants. He leaned forward, burying his face in her chest for a moment before he groaned deeply. She glanced around in panic, wishing she had brought a trash can in with her. 

“I think she would’ve looked like you.” He mumbled into her skin as he gently brought his hands up to her waist. He held onto her, inhaling deeply as she slowly moved her hands onto his shoulders. 

“Huh?” She looked down at him curiously and then wiped away the water from his skin that she had missed the first time. He blinked up at her, his eyes swimming with sorrow. Her heart hammered harshly inside of her chest. 

“Our baby.”

“Oh.” She replied, unable to think of anything else to say as her hands suddenly felt too heavy. She still wasn’t sure how to approach this topic. She had spent so long burying her own feelings and heartache that she still wasn’t sure how to speak about it. She was surprised that Gator was bringing her up. She wondered if he thought about what could’ve been the same way she did. 

“Did you have a name picked out?” He asked her softly, genuinely looking curious as he continued to brush his fingertips over her exposed skin. She parted her lips, realizing that he still had no idea what her worries had been at the time. 

“No,” She responded gently, “I was too worried about what you would think and how I would tell you.” She admitted as she rubbed her thumb across his cheek. It had been so long ago, yet it was suddenly so fresh in her mind. 

“I would’ve been happy.” He declared as he looked up at her in determination. She felt a little sick as she nodded her head in agreement, knowing that she had made a very rash and dramatic decision. Still, it wouldn’t have changed what had happened.

“I know.” She told him truthfully as she traced her finger down the curve of his nose. She pressed on the tip of it gently, watching the way he wrinkled his features in response. 

“I like Piper.” He took her by surprise. She thought about it for a moment, smiling as she thought it would’ve been a pretty name. Everything suddenly felt too real for her. It was too heavy of a conversation to have with him right now, especially when he would probably wake up and remember none of it. 

“That’s a pretty name,” She nodded her head softly, trying to ignore the burning that was forming in her eyes, “You should lay down.” She told him, stepping back just a bit so she could help lift his long legs into bed. He groaned as he tried to sit up, like he had somewhere to be. 

She pressed back on his shoulder gently, softly commanding him to lay down. He moved rapidly, falling onto the bed as a soft blissful sigh left his lips. She shook her head, lifting his feet fully onto the bed next. She pulled the covers up over his shoulders, sure that he had already dozed off. 

“Thanks.” He said dreamily as he moved his hands up towards the pillow. She wasn’t sure if it was right to keep him in her shared bed with Hugh, but she couldn’t kick him out. Even after everything that had happened. She didn’t want Gator to leave. 

“Don’t mention it,” She mumbled as she rubbed her finger across his cheek after she had crawled into bed next to him, “I suppose I owe you. You did take care of me when I freaked out on edibles.” She mumbled softly, briefly thinking of the memory. It had been long and tortuous , but she had Gator there the whole time. Even if he had messed up on their doses, something that she had learned later. 

“Do you love him?” He asked her once the darkness had drifted in between the two of them. She felt a slight dip in the mattress as Birdie climbed in. He moved past Daphne, moving to rest onto Gator’s chest instead. 

“What?” She looked at him surprised, glad that he couldn’t see her expression in the dark. He gently pressed his fingers through Birdie’s hair, petting him as the silence began to consume them. 

“Hugh,” He said softly, “Do you love him?” He asked her again once he clarified what he meant. She shuffled underneath the blankets, wishing she knew how she truly felt. She thought the worst part was that she did know how she felt. She didn’t love Hugh. She cared for him, but she didn’t love him. Her love was reserved for someone else. 

“I don’t know.” She admitted at last. Hugh was a lot of things. He was different from Gator. But she didn’t if she was in love with him. She felt terrible saying that, considering she had married him. She felt like she was living a lie. One that she didn’t know how to fix without hurting him. 

“That’s not a very good answer.” Gator pointed out as he snorted softly. He continued to pet Birdie, who was now rubbing his face up against Gator’s. He smiled dorkily, looking like he enjoyed the feeling of Birdie's whiskeys against his skin. 

“I care for him,” She said a second later, “But he’s not who I thought I’d end up with.” She told him honestly as she rolled onto her side. She watched the way Gator kept staring at the ceiling, like he was examining something. 

“Who was that?” He asked her curiously, his tone a little rough like he was jealous. She furrowed her eyebrows together, wondering if he was that dense. She had told him how she felt yesterday, only to receive hurtful words in response. 

“I think you know.” She told him as she fought the urge to reach out and touch his face again. Birdie purred louder, filling the gaps in their conversation. 

“Me too,” He mumbled underneath his breath, his eyes slowly closing, “Her name is Daphne.” She felt her heart hammering roughly inside of her chest as a bright spark formed inside of her stomach. 

“She sounds like a trouble maker.” She laughed softly, sure that she may cry from his words. She wondered if he really meant that. She had meant it when she had said she was in love with him. 

“She’s sweet,” He continued to hum softly, sounding like he was seconds away from snoring, “She’s far from here though. She’s like sunshine, like a dream. She’s special.” She listened to him, hoping that he would remember this in the morning. 

i’ve turned my life completely upside down in the last week and a half. actually it is now the correct side up. if i thought things were fine before, they’re a gajillion times better now. i cannot stress the importance of what i’m about to say: i started taking care of my physical health. i can hardly believe the words as i type them out. not weight loss, or an aesthetic glow up, like my actual health, my insides, my bones, my muscles, my organs, the machine that actually keeps me running. had to spend a buttload of money at the gp and pathology and chemist tho. but it’s a necessary expenditure. i will come clean about one thing though, that that reason behind all of this, the catalyst, the final push wasn’t just my rock bottom, i actually, how do i say this, i’m not one to struggle with words, at least not when discussing my feelings. i have started to have feelings for someone. and this is entirely one sided, not that that’s a problem with me, in fact, it’s kind of a preference. i dont know a love more pure than the unrequited kind. that is not to say that i didn’t break down and cry about it more than a few times. anyway, so i’m taking all my potions and applying all my concoctions, and my health was so bad, that i’m already seeing huge improvements, after just one week of care. i’m inspired to be better. i’m inspired to have the life, happiness and health i wish for the ones i love.

i’m so hopeful that even jinxing doesn’t scare me. bring it on you evil planets. i picked myself up from rock bottom. i have intentionally found the good in the most horrible things. i am deserving of the happiness that comes my way.

i did overeat a little today and last night, a little bit stress eating, and a little bit extra hungry. and so i will go on a walk today inshaallah.

i’ve had a bit of creative energy lately, and i’m putting it to good use. sketching out a fashion collection, and i’m really liking the ideas and how they’re coming together so far. someday things are going to fall into the place i’m pushing them into. and i am most hopeful.

today was supposed to be my first day back in uni, but i am sick and coughing every 10 seconds, so i emailed the lecturer letting her know ill be joining the online repeat class this evening, instead of the on campus class this afternoon. missed out free gelato at uni today, they had some amazing flavours, but i’m sick anyway. so i couldn’t have had it.

someone’s gonna love me someday, when i am not so difficult to love. when i am ready to accept it. that someone might be me. a person i met recently told me to date myself, with intention and mindfulness. and that rlly stuck, because yes. also i’m happy that therapy has started again. since two days ago.

i’m drinking tea. i bought a pot to dedicate solely to tea making. and it’s been such a good little treat. i’m putting condensed milk in it, because i am not afraid of sugar. i’m going to build and rebuild my life. and things are going to be just fine. i’m going to be just fine.

In The Heat of the Mountain Bluebird

Nothing more than some late night bird watching......

Claudia raced up the stairs of Castle Dimitrescu at an impeccable speed. The grin on her face was almost as wide as the long strides she took to make it to her desired destination. She made it to the Lady’s bedchambers in no time, almost slamming against the door as she stopped herself to knock on it. Her knuckled smashed a sporadic series of knocks before rapidly opening the door. She didn’t bother herself with waiting on an answer, too excited to wait even a second longer.

“Alci! Quick, take a look at this!”

Alcina turned her attention to the woman that busted into her room. Her back rested against the headboard of her bed but she sat up a little straighter after taking notice of Claudia. Blankets covered her from the waist down, she wore a deep red nightgown and her face was clean of her usual makeup. It was clear that the countess was retiring for the night and was quite startled by the unexpected visitor. Her shock quickly transformed into content; Claudia’s company was something Alcina looked forward to the most. The shorter woman was rushing over to the bed so Alcina was only spared a few seconds to be self-conscious of her current attire.

I thought Claudia would be occupied for the rest of the night. How tragic that my more flattering nightwear is currently being washed. I feel like I’m wasting a possible opportunity for…something to happen.

Her nightgown was quite sheer, red silk did very little to hide the peak of her nipples. Her soft stomach hugged the fabric. It worried her if Claudia would find her body unappealing if she really knew what it looked like. She crossed her arms against her chest in an attempt to hide herself.

I’m not nearly as beautiful as the other women that compete for her attention…

Claudia ran over to where the larger woman lounged in bed, leaping into her lap.

“Alcina! You are just the woman I wanted to see!”

Claudia squealed as she cradled the woman’s face in her hands. Her curls were placed into a messy bun and she was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with an oversized white t-shirt.

“You wanted to see me so badly that you felt the need to rush over here in such a panic?”

Alcina questioned with her voice sounding unintentionally snappy, she was feeling vulnerable and made the accident of projecting it into her words. Claudia had no reaction to her attitude. She only leaned in closer with an undeniable excitement.

“YES! I need you to confirm that the bird I just sketched was a mountain bluebird. I figured it was due to its color but I wanted to get confirmation from the expert herself before I share my good news with Daniela.”

The village was hosting a bird watching competition in the local area, the residents have started new trends amongst the town in recent years in the hopes of strengthening their sense of community. Claudia and Daniela have been spotting various types of birds around the Romanian town for a few years now during their weekly picnics, the pair was ecstatic when the competition was announced. It had only been 13 days and the two of them already found almost all the birds on the list….except the mountain bluebird.

“That’s the last one you and Daniela need to identify to win the competition, correct?”

Alcina shifted slightly under the shorter woman. Trying to maintain her focus on Claudia’s eyes instead of the way the woman’s legs were spread on top of her.

“Uh huh, I’m so excited! Daniela has been so dedicating to finding them all. I’m going to let her turn in our results so she had an excuse to talk to that girl who works at the town library. That’s all she seems to talk about these days.”

Alcina rolled her eyes,

“I’m not surprised.”

Claudia chuckled at the woman’s response.

“Oh stop that, its cute! Young love at its finest. All that matters to me is that she’s safe and happy, anything else is up for them to decide.”

Alcina softened at Claudia’s consideration for her daughter, she uncrossed her arms and placed them on top of the woman’s thighs.

How did I get so lucky to meet a woman that cares so much for my daughters. Claudia has worked endlessly on locating all these birds with Daniela. She’d make such a good mother to them. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she will…someday…

“You’re right, draga. Go ahead and show me this bird so the news can be passed along.”

Claudia smiled and reached for the journal she brought with her. She stared to flip through the pages to find where her writings turned into sketches. Alcina watched as the woman thoughtfully searched, she didn’t feel the need to speak. The silence between them was always comforting rather than awkward. She didn’t speak up until something caught her eye. She noticed that her name was beginning to appear on the pages.

“Wait- turn back to that page draga.”

Alcina requested as she reached towards the journal.

“NO! I uh- I mean that’s not the right page, I-I’m still looking. Just a few more seconds”

Claudia’s face was burning up as she avoided Alcina’s gaze. She desperately searched through the pages faster.

The woman’s slight outburst amused Alcina and now she HAD to see what was written on those pages. In one swift motion she snatched the journal from her tight grasp.

“Hey! Wait no, Alcina please don’t read that.”

Claudia tried to reach for the book back but Alcina was faster, she extended her arm and held the book up high.

“Or what draga? Worried I’ll discover your dirty fantasies about me?”

Alcina offered back playfully. It was fun watching Claudia squirm. The other woman was usually so confident, so Alcina took great satisfaction in making her stumble with her words.

“Alcccinnnnaaaaa. Come on, stop being a jerk and give it back.”

Claudia whined as she tried to reach once again but the taller woman wasn’t budging. She started to pout and demanded for the journal back. Alcina leaned in closer to the woman; feeling a bit bolder than usual, she spoke with a sultry tone:

“I love it when you whine me draga, such a needy girl you are.”

Claudia froze. Her face was so hot it hurt. Her palms were starting to sweat as her heart sped up. Alcina smirked at the reaction she was creating. Claudia refused to give her the satisfaction of winning. Alcina may have started this but she was going to finish it. She had no problems with playing dirty.

Her pout quickly morphed into a smirk of her own. She took her hand and slowly rubbed up the arm that held up her journal, sliding up to Alcina’s palm and clasping it against her own. Alcina’s fingertips still held on tight to the small book. Claudia snapped her hips forward so her core sat against the other woman’s stomach. She leaned her face in so close that their noses touched.

“You want me to whine for you baby?”

Now it was Alcina’s turn to get flustered, she couldn’t fight the pink threatening to spreading thoughout her neck and face. Her underwear suddenly felt uncomfortable against her. She pushed her legs closer together to aid the ache she felt. The journal was long forgotten as it fell to the ground.

“Maybe you’re the one with the dirty fantasy,”

Claudia countered before she closed the space between them. Her lips lightly touched Alcina, still a little hesitant that she may crossed an unspoken boundary. The taller woman wasted no time returning the gesture, however. She kissed her back with more force, unclasping their hands so she could grasp Claudia’s waist. She moaned softly when she felt Claudia’s tongue slowly lick the around the bottom of her top lip, the shorter woman took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Alcina couldn’t help but whimper as their tongues danced against each other. She felt Claudia place her hands against her shoulders shortly after, pushing slightly to separate the two. Alcina felt disappointed at the loss of contact; but it was short lived after witnessing the grin on the other woman’s face. Alcina couldn’t help but sport one of her own.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

Claudia whispered more to herself rather than Alcina.

“I’m glad you did.”

Alcina admitted before her mind caught up with her, face still flushed with various shades of pink. Claudia giggles quietly,

“Me too.”

She offered the Lady one last peck to the lips before sliding off her lap and making her way off the bed. She picked up her journal as she made her way towards the door.

“W-wait!”

Alcina called out before Claudia had a chance to exit the room completely, in hopes that stalling would make her stay longer.

“I thought you wanted me to check the species of that bird?”

Claudia turned back and flashed an alluring smile,

“No need, I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

Alcina blushed once more.

“Sweet dreams, M’lady.

She officially made her exit for the night, planning to seek out Daniela first thing in the morning. Not before paying the lady of the house a visit, of course.

Do You Two...Fondue? (10)

Shore to Shore, Part Three (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve takes care of you while you heal, and you help Steve heal invisible wounds. (Warnings: smut and awkward/deep conversations. MINORS DNI.)

You’re thoroughly convinced that he pulled several strings to get you out before bedtime that very night. Steve is sure to set out towels for you and asks if you’d like to grab some things from your apartment. Considering how jostling the car ride to HQ was on your sore ribs, you tell him to leave it for the morning. You’re tired. He puts you to bed and lets you rest, saying he’ll be just in the next room. Before you drift off, you notice the time on the clock is outrageously early for how late you usually stay up and think about how Steve is likely sketching, listening to already soft music on a low volume to ensure you are not disturbed.

He’s not there when you wake and has obviously not slept in the bed at all. You’re groggy and need to pee, but you stumble and bump your casted arm on the doorframe. Not a great start to the day. Pulling down the sweatpants from the hospital is awkward. Wiping yourself hurts your ribs. Still, you stare longingly at the shower and pray you don’t smell as bad as you feel. The other times, when it was just your fingers broken, you could duct tape plastic bags over the hand and still had dexterity to push a sponge back and forth. No such luck this time. The cast goes about halfway up your bicep. It’s all you can do to wash your face slowly with a washcloth.

In the living room, spread across the coffee table are all your instructions and meds, but Steve isn’t there. You ignore the bottle set on a page that reads “take one” with an arrow in favor of snuggling into the deep blue couch that smells potently of Steve’s cologne. He must have slept there overnight.

You’re positive you’ve just shut your eyes when the door opens, and the light from the windows has completely changed. Nearly an hour’s gone. Steve’s brought things from your apartment. He wanted to let you sleep.

You follow him back to the bedroom where he lays out everything he brought, but you can’t imagine putting clean clothes onto a body that feels this filthy, even if it looks fine, even if it smells fine (which it does not). The daunting task makes you emotional and frustrated.

After hearing a series of growls and whines from the bathroom, Steve comes to the door. You’re trying to set up the detachable shower head and soap and shampoo as close together as possible so that you have access with just one arm. You are about to give up and just take a bath with a towel wrapped as a loose turnicate for a splash buffer.

Steve doesn’t see the dark humor in your predicament. “Well, how did you manage this last time?”

“Wipes.” Your tone is bitter, a sharp word atop an ocean of anger. You simply want to feel clean and human. That’s all. It’s also an impossible task.

“May I help?”

He could and he should. It’s the most logical solution, but you’re stubborn. You’ve felt exposed and observed for the past week. You haven’t gotten to shave. Being alone sounds nice; being washed sounds better. He helps remove the hospital sweats, steadies you while you climb into the tub. After some discussion while you cover your dry, naked body, you both decide your hair might be more easily washed leaning forward under the spout, cast protected while resting higher on the tub rim. Then he wraps your hair while helping clean your upper body, cast lifted in the air. You soap up and scrub as much as you can, and he controls the spray to rinse you, though he has to do everything for your back.

Steve is the epitome of professional, platonic, and unaffected. He says nothing when you ask him to turn away so you can clean your undercarriage, and then he’s back to help you tackle legs. Your arm and shoulder become too tired to lift, so he has you rest it behind his neck while you sit in the tub, asking if the angle feels alright.

While he’s helping you adjust, the stream of the shower head he isn’t paying close attention to blasts over your clit. You can’t control the gasp that escapes you while you are mid-sentence telling Steve your shoulder is good.

Steve’s pupils pulse larger at the noise.

You’ve never been looking right at him when he’s touched you, not with the lights on anyway. You’ve never seen arousal blossom on his face, darken his features, overcome his chivalry.

“Sorry,” you moan. You don’t know what to say. This is the least plausible of sexy things you could do with Steve in his apartment, but hell if you’ll stop him. “It’s…been a while.”

“Do you need to come?”

Jesus, Rogers. It’s not even a remotely lewd way to ask, but it’s definitely dirty the way he looks at you for permission to keep going. His blown pupils look hopeful, keenly voyeuristic, and Steve slowly circles the spray of water back over your mound, searching for the exact spot that gives him another mewl of encouragement.

His eyes methodically rake over your wet body, but your mind is torn between paying attention to Steve’s lust-filled face or letting the rippling heat of stimulation consume you. At some point, you cease to have a choice and your head falls back, knocking the towel around your hair loose. You feel the fabric become water-logged while tucked down by your hips but don’t care. The only thought not about how close you are is how Steve said he likes that swell of your hip the towel is plush against, and then he spreads his fingers around your side—for support, you’re sure—only to land at his other favorite spot, grazing the side of your breast.

Steve doesn’t relent, shimmying the pressure back and forth, in tiny twirling circles, and then he bends his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. The reactive arch of your back tweaks your raised shoulder and as amazing as everything feels below that problem limb, you have to hiss for Steve to stop.

Damn. So close. But the pain radiating up the arm is quickly surpassing the ache of your core.

##########

Steve immediately turns off the water and unhinges your arm from around his neck, apologizing profusely. He’d gotten so carried away. Of course, you’re hurt. How could he be so stupid?

He grabs more towels and fusses until you are safe and dry and comfy on the bed. He realizes he never set out any clothes for you to change into after washing, so he swings one leg back off the bed to go, only to be stopped by your hold on his forearm.

Steve settles himself back to sit beside you, dazzled by your loving gaze. He gets a little too lost and doesn’t notice your hand sliding up his thigh to palm at his crotch.

“You’re hurt,” he groans while failing to move out of your reach.

“But I’m not dead, and I want to make you feel good, too.” Your hands trails back and forth, easing pressure against him.

If Steve could let himself go, if he could be as naive as he was back in ’43, he might let you continue. He can’t, so he sweeps your hand away and tells you to relax in the bed.

He knows a little about the world and his own body now, and he’s not willing to repeat any foolhardy moments, like the one with Beatrice in the prop closet. She called him a dish, and she was an ace at pleasing a man. A dancer in his war-bond performances for a dozen cities across the Northwest, Bea hardly cared about the hard stage floor against her knees as she worked him, peepers high and meeting his almost every second. She left her unmentionables under his helmet in his locker the next day, but she left the show less than a week later.

It was so…impersonal, a lot like Steve imagines modern toys feel for men. He doesn’t want that with you. He doesn’t want that for you. What if it smells? What if he tastes bad? What if he makes you feel used even if that’s not his intention? He can’t possibly let you do anything while injured. He can’t really think of anything more selfish since at this moment all he can think about is what your body could do with his. Based on what your body does to him even when you’re not with him…he’s in trouble.

“Honey, let’s just focus on you. You said you needed to—“

“I need you—“ you grab his wrist with a power he feels is not-so-gentle for you “—to talk to me. Tell me why. Please.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…that cannot be pleasant for you. Not while you’re hurt. Not after. If we do…anything, shouldn’t we both get something out of it?”

Your eyes dart to his hand still reaching for your sex. “And what, pray tell, were you gonna get outta this?”

His answer comes out low and breathy. “To watch you.”

Your whole body shudders, tipping your voice high. “And that’s not one sided?”

Steve’s a bit lost in how your shudder made your breasts shake. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you move his hand up. He can’t fathom describing the texture of soft yet firm tissue beneath your smooth skin and hard nipple. Your whole being is a conundrum of sensations to him and each touch produces its own wave of conflict between his body and mind. Pay attention. Lose yourself. Control. Surrender.

The point of the serum was to make him a perfect soldier, and it changed his body to match. The serum enhanced Steve himself, his personality as well as his flaws and insecurities. He realized years ago that his outsides didn’t necessarily match his insides, and at first, that meant he didn’t trust women to want all of him instead of just his body. He hadn’t gotten far enough with anyone to consider the mismatch meaning part of him might be inadequate. Nothing is ever good enough for the one you love; how can he be?

He hasn’t spoken, but it’s clear from your look that he’s provided an answer of sorts.

“So why would it be any less exciting for me to touch you?”

“I don’t want you to feel used.” He rests his reaching hand on the top of your thigh.

You purse your lips at him. “I’m starting to feel used like a beard here, Sketch.”

He has to think about what that means. He’s heard that term before.

“Nevermind, if the choices are groping or gabbing, grope away.” You stretch out over the bed, presenting your whole naked body for Steve, but his hand retracts, brow furrowing.

The daylight robs him of the option to do this in the dark which was admittedly easier for him as well, so he pinches his eyes closed. “I might be…bad at this,” he mutters as loud as he can manage. It’s a whisper at best.

He opens his eyes just in time to see yours close, your lip bitten harshly to stifle a laugh. You lift both hands to cover your face but can’t and settle for covering your chest as thoroughly as you can with the cast. Your leg crosses the other to hide from him.

“Sweetheart…” You take a while to think. “I understand that you are a superhero, but this is not a fairytale. Obviously. This pressure of having to be perfect each and every second is absurd. I don’t want you to be perfect, Steve. God, I hope that you aren’t because that would really make me feel a little better right now. I just want you to be present. I mean, statistically speaking, you will not be good at sex because you’ve hardly tried, and I expect that. Honey, I welcome it--it’s—” you try to roll but fail “—I can’t turn over that way. Will you please come over here?” 

Steve crawls up to take you back in his arms, and you card your fingers through his hair. 

“Bet you thought you might be a bad kisser until you attacked me,” you say with a smile.

He blushes and shrugs. It had not occurred to him until this moment. His lip twitches with worry, but Steve remembers that even though he’s ‘messed up’ being physical with you several times over several months, you are still here in his arms. He should probably listen then. You’re smarter than he is.

“Got news for ya, pal,” you continue, winking. “You’re a quick study and a natural. And I highly anticipate many long hours of practice in our future. For science, of course. I know it’s not typically advised to speak of past experience, but I’ve had bad sex, and let’s just say that there’s an arguable correlation between bad kissing and bad sex. So I’m worldly and you should assume I’m right in all things.” The devilish smile and your body shifting closer make him think that’s a cue.

Steve starts to slide his hand down your stomach but stops when you giggle.

Your question is quiet. “Can I confess something?”

“I killed the mood, didn’t I?” Steve winces.

You match his face and nod. “Yeah, but I’m tired and I will accept cuddles as recompense.”

Steve walks his fingers up to your neck and gently pulls you into a kiss. “You drive a hard bargain, Keeps.” He shifts and adjusts you both until you can lay on your side comfortably with a few pillows he positions and finally hears that little sigh that says you approve, that one that says you can feel his devotion. He is present, and that’s what you wanted.

“Steve,” you start tentatively in his arms, wiggling into your nook as little spoon, “I just wanna say all this so you can hear it. Because I don’t think that it’s made…very clear in modern or olden days.”

He hums to signal he’s listening.

“There are always awkward moments. Bodies don’t do what they’re supposed to—or can’t. You or I won’t always be as awesomely sexy as we want to be. We’ll be tired or feel self-conscious. Someone will fart.” You press your hand out into the air. “I’m not saying who, but it’s me, and I think you should know that sex and sweat and all the stuff that comes along with—oh god, bad phrasing—whatever, it can’t all be categorized as…good or sweet or pleasant. Basically? Except for it is all of those things to a partner. I mean, it’s not all rose and sandalwood, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t, well, erotic. That—those things are meant to stimulate and excite. It’s probably always gonna feel naughty in some way, but—“

And here you lace your fingers through his, pushing his hand down to rest on that high curve of your hip he loves so much. Today is the clearest view of all of you he’s ever had, and he’s besotted by the teasing stretch marks that lead to his favorite places. He’ll trace them all in the sunlight some other time, after you finish your speech.

“But I’m certain that nothing you do will hurt me or make me feel anything but happy and loved.”

Steve decides right then to marry you. Somehow, you’ve miraculously put up with his stalling and excuses. You’ve been more understanding and forgiving than any reasonable person could be under the circumstances. Not only do you not treat him like he’s crazy, but you also make sense of all of his crap when Steve himself can’t.

You’re it. You’re all he wants. Forever. Now he just wants to be worthy of Miss America.

To be continued... (Next Part)

Forgive that I have no idea what I'm doing with a taglist, but we gotta learn somehow, right?

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

It began with a twinge.

Not quite a pang. Not even an ache. Just a point of queasiness low in Fiore’s gut from the moment of waking.

Fiore blamed it on last night’s wine and thought no more of it, though it did prevent him from breaking his fast.

Nor did he take anything at mid-day. He spent the hours sketching and waiting for the queasy feeling to subside. It did not. Instead, it grew into a pain that ebbed and flowed, sometimes spreading across everything between his ribs and hips, sometimes diminishing to that singular point low in his gut where it had begun. He supposed he had something within him that would work its way out on its own. He could wait it out.

By evening, the pain had ebbed again, and he had hopes it might vanish altogether by the following dawn. He felt confident enough to go up on deck to the tavern. There he found a gentleman interested in what he had to offer and brought him down to his room.

While Fiore didn’t feel up to much, he thought he could make do with his mouth. The gentleman was neither particularly large nor particularly rough. Fiore had many years’ experience swallowing others just like him.

Yet when the head of the prick touched the back of Fiore’s tongue, he gagged.

Even that he could usually work past. But tonight when he tried to swallow, his gorge arose, and he had to whip the gentleman from his mouth and turn his head to avoid spewing all over him. He’d eaten nothing; most of what came up was acid and bile. Still, it was enough to kill the mood, and the gentleman excused himself without paying.

Fiore remained kneeling on the floor for some time. When the nausea ebbed, he staggered upright to fetch bucket and rag. He managed to clean the mess without adding to it, which he felt a feat worth celebrating, then groped his way to his bed. He crawled beneath the bedclothes and lay clutching his stomach in darkness for he knew not how long before sleep claimed him.

He awoke to a gentle tapping at his door.

Fiore opened his eyes none too willingly. Sunlight poured in through the window. He’d slept through the night, at least, and supposed that was something. His guts still ached and lurched within him as he dragged himself out of bed and shrugged on a robe to answer the knock. He opened the door and found perhaps the only person he could feel genuinely happy to see even in the midst of his discomfort.

Fiore smiled despite his stomach. “Thought you weren’t coming until mèrcore.”

Enzo blinked beneath the mask. “It is mèrcore.”

Fiore’s stomach did a queer plunge. “Oh.”

“Is everything all right?” Enzo asked.

“I’ve overslept,” Fiore admitted. He did not, however, divulge that he’d overslept by an entire day. That felt a touch too disconcerting.

And yet not quite so disconcerting as the way the whole room slid down to the left as if the Kingfisher had slipped back out to sea.

Fiore staggered. His vision blurred. Strong hands clasped his shoulders and held him steady. When the room ceased spinning, he knew not how long after, he found Enzo’s masked eyes staring keenly into his own.

“You ought to sit down,” said Enzo.

Fiore rather agreed. He let Enzo steer him back towards his bed and sat on the edge of it. Enzo sat beside him and laid the back of his hand against Fiore’s brow. His knuckles felt queerly cold.

“Don’t,” Fiore protested. “I don’t know if it’s catching.”

Enzo heeded him not. “I’ve already had the plague. That’s why I’m mother’s favorite.”

Fiore didn’t have the strength to argue. Still, he groaned through gritted teeth, “So have I.”

This seemed to give Enzo pause. He dropt his hand from Fiore’s brow and instead began rubbing circles onto Fiore’s back, which felt comforting, despite all. At last he spoke again, this time with more hesitation. “I’ve heard that, in your line of work, there may occur certain interior tears or bruising. Is this perhaps…?”

“Already done as well,” Fiore said, biting back another groan. “It’s not that, either.”

Enzo fell silent again. Fiore knew he ought to send him off. But his touch—and his presence, Fiore had to admit—soothed him and made the sickness feel more bearable.

“May I try something?” Enzo asked.

Fiore nodded.

Enzo ceased rubbing his back, much to Fiore’s disappointment. He moved to stand in front of Fiore. His hands reached for his breech-buttons.

“I can’t,” Fiore began.

“I’m not,” Enzo replied.

Fiore hesitated, then nodded his assent.

Enzo unbuttoned him. Rather than pull his breeches down, however, he merely folded the waist-band over and drew his shirttail out of it and held it up above his ribs to reveal the crests of his hip-bones.

“Tell me how this pains you,” said Enzo.

Nothing good ever started that way. Still, the gentle tone and tender gaze bespoke a desire to do no harm, and so Fiore nodded again.

Enzo took two fingertips and tapped them against Fiore’s belly, just above his left hip-bone.

Fiore winced. It didn’t feel good, certainly, but it hurt no worse than the rest of him.

Enzo tapped again, this time just beneath his navel.

It didn’t feel much better than the first.

Enzo tapped a third time, above his right hip-bone.

Fiore doubled over with a bitten-off scream.

Enzo caught him by the shoulders again. “I thought so.” “Thought what?” Fiore gasped.

“Appendicitis.”

This answered nothing.

~

FIORENZO is a queer fantasy-of-manners romance featuring secret identities, hurt/comfort, and a happily-ever-after - out now wherever fine books are found!

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