#I’ve just been caught in grey wash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mauvecherie-writes · 2 months

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so ready: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader

summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.

warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.

notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.

w.c: 3.5K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

buy me a kofi.

You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.

Deeply attracted to him.

Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.

It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.

Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.

“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.

“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.

“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.

“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.

Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.

“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.

“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.

“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”

He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.

Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.

“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.

A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.

One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.

You needed that breather.

“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.

“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”

“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”

“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.

“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.

“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.

“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”

“Prove it.” You spat at him.

Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.

He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.

Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.

He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.

Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.

Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”

The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.

You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.

Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.

“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”

“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.

“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”

“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”

“This dick would change your life baby.”

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

“Turn around and say that to my face.”

He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.

Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.

“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.

“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.

You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.

Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.

“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”

“Lewis … please.”

“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.

His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.

“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”

“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”

He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.

“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.

“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.

He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.

You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.

You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.

You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.

His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.

Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.

“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.

“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.

You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.

You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.

“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.

When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.

“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.

You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.

You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.

Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.

Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.

Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.

For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.

Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.

Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”

You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.

You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.

“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.

You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.

So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.

London fashion week be damned ….

#mauvecherie writes #so ready fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #sir lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton #lh #sir lewis hamilton

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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frenziedfireworks · 9 months

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hi! i was wondering if you could do something like draco having a sort of mental breakdown, and the reader comforting him? or maybe the reader catches draco trying to scrub or scratch his death eater mark off. ps, i love ur work 💗

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : Your boyfriend is having a tough time and you're there to help.

CW : sad!Draco, Draco rubbing his skin raw, bit of a mental breakdown + comfort

You had been staying at Malfoy Manor quickly after you received an owl from your boyfriend. The tyrannical things his father was making him go through and the trauma he had to endure.. You had hoped to lighten it. You knew he had his bad days but he mostly preferred to keep it to himself. He had said “it’s easier for him to think” during those moments. You had more just accepted he still wasn’t used to affection and he had been terribly neglected.

Today was one of his bad days. You had sauntered around the manor all day in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Much to your dismay the only person you caught was Lucius.

“Ah, Y/N. Out for a stroll? Do be careful. You never know what you will find around the manor these days. Definitely at this time of night.” Lucius said in a haughty tone as he looked you up and down. You simply nodded to the man and began to walk away. You had to see Draco.

–

Your hand went to knock on his bedroom door when you heard the muffled sobs. You knew he wouldn’t let you in until he had finished or would just act like nothing had happened. So despite better judgment and privacy for your boyfriend, you yanked the door open.

Draco’s bloodshot eyes met yours before he turned away. You noticed his pulled sleeve and the scratches against the dark mark. He had been picking at it long enough to draw blood.

“Dray, sweetie.” You moved in and rubbed a hand lightly against his back. His body wracked with silent sobs as he slowly leaned into the touch. You took it as a good sign and wrapped your arm around him, pulling his form into you. “It’s going to be okay. I know things are hard but we are going to get through this. Together - remember?” You whispered to him and he took a few deep breaths. His head turned and you saw how puffy and red he was. Evidently crying for some time now.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay Y/N? After everything I’ve done? I am just becoming what I hated.” His words spat with disgust and his nails traveled down the scratches on his forearm. Your fingers pushed his hand away and you brought it up to your lips. You placed delicate smooches against the burnt skin, watching as his grey eyes widened.

“You have been pushed and pulled in every direction. You do what you must to stay alive. You are not them and never have been. You are a survivor.” You brush at his pale locks and lean in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The blonde’s face melts and he automatically nuzzles into your neck. His grip around you is tight and his breath left goosebumps.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Draco’s voice was small, obviously still feeling the turmoil. You just hummed and held him in the embrace. You were glad he had finally allowed you to see him - the true him.

“I love you too. There is no need to apologize. I’m here for everything. Good or bad. You’re safe with me.” You could feel the tiny smile against your flesh that widened on Draco’s face. He may not have an easy life but he would always have you.

–

“Let’s clean you up and get you to bed.”

You walked to the bathroom and grabbed a rag. You wetted it with warm water and made your way back, grasping at his mangled arm. Draco took a few deep breaths as you washed over the spot and then placed the towel against his face. Moving it against his porcelain skin you wiped away until he looked pleasantly relaxed. You placed a small kiss to his lips before placing back the cloth. Draco scooted up the bed and got in, waiting for you to join him.

You got comfy beside him and sighed as you felt his head lean against your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair and his breathing began to slow.

“Goodnight Y/N. Thank you..”

Your heart warmed at the soft and sweet tone, happy to bring some comfort to your dear boyfriend.

“Anytime honey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #harry potter #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy imagines

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codfanficedits · 7 months

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One fucking mistake - Part Eight.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader - She/her pronouns being used

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 2125 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with no comfort, conversation, mentioning of memoryloss

A/N: Part eight! I had a lot of trouble starting this part. I'm a fulltime student and my classes have been kicking my ass, and I really don't want to be THAT person, but the next part might take a lil while, I'm sorry :(

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ AO3 Link

244 days.

You finally can remember it all. How Simon begged you to come with him on this mission, something he could’ve done by himself easily, but he tried to sweettalk you, bribe you, just anything so he wouldn’t have to go alone.

And you fell for it. How could you not? After all, he promised you he’d do the dishes, and you hated doing the dishes.

You remember Simon double checking your gear, softly tugging on the bulletproof vest to make sure that it was safe and secure. He always made sure you were safe and secure, no matter what happened, Simon had made it clear that you were his number one priority. You, and you alone.

The moment of eye contact that follows after always makes your heart flutter, the little lines next to his eyes when his lips tug to a smile, it is enough to make your stomach do a million summersaults. The moment you smile, and the little apples of your cheeks start to rise, he brushes his knuckles against the sensitive skin on your face. The callouses on his knuckles was something that you always enjoyed feeling, a little routine before a mission. Something you always held dear.

It didn’t matter that he was wearing his mask on the chopper flight to the area you had to scout. You could see in his eyes how much he was smiling every time you added something on the list of dishes, the fine lines around his eyes, the sparkle in his eyes.

A gasp. “I’ll let you even wash the food dish of the cat.”

“Lovie, we don’t have a cat.” His voice sounds amused.

“Nuh uh, I’ve been feeding the strays that live just outside the base.” You protest.

“Fine, fine, fine.” It isn’t even a real protest, Simon would do anything to make you happy.

“AND.” Your voice sounds happy, as if you just got the best idea ever known to man. “You have to wear an apron.”

“An apron?”

“Yeah, I still have a pink one.”

“Fine.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, but I’m wearing nothing underneath it.” Simon snickers.

“Deal!”

“And, you can only look but you can’t touch.” He adds.

“But that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, lovie.”

Life indeed wasn’t fair.

Because the next thing you remember is a white flash, ringing in your ears and a lot of stumbling. A lot of pain when you tumbled down the stairs. You can remember Simon calling for you, screaming your name and you want to react, but your body doesn't allow you to.

Another loud noise, and you realise that a grenade must’ve gone off when you’re getting covered by debris.

It is dark when you wake up again, the sensation of someone tugging on your ankles is waking you up, your body hurts and you’re disorientated, your eyes flutter as you try to stay awake, as you try to grasp what has happened. The men towering over you speak a language you don’t understand, and frankly, there is nothing you understand at the moment.

Who are you? And why are you here?

One of the men pulls you up, his hands under your armpits as he drags you away, your skin is grey from the dust and debris and as your eyes finally focus you can see the fear in the eyes of the people around you.

You desperately try to remember, your brain knows there is something hidden inside, something that would explain all of it, but you can’t. You can’t seem to find the key to the door inside of you that hold all the information you need.

Your dog tags get caught on a pole of metal sticking out of the rubble, and you groan a little when it cuts off your airflow, even if it is for a brief moment. Neither you or the man carrying you realise how important those dog tags are. But of you are just focussed on getting you out of there.

Another groan when the ground gets more uneven, sharp pain being unbearable with every bump. You try so, so, so hard to stay away, but your body tries to protect you against the pain, and before you know it your eyes start to roll back, and it gets dark again.

When you wake up again, you’re in a bed, stripped of your belongings, but a variety of bandages around your limbs, a woman speaks to you in a hushed tone, but you can’t understand the language they’re speaking. A soft groan leaves your lips as you try to speak, but your throat is dry and everything hurts.

Later, you learn that you’re taken in by the local villagers, who have been tormented by the war for the longest time. The same war you and Simon participated in, the same war where you were convinced you were on the right side, only to learn that there are only losers when it comes to war.

As the universe continues your injuries start to heal, and while you still don’t speak a word of their language, the villagers are nice to you, almost as if caring for you is just what they need to take their mind of the running war in their area. You know something is missing, you can’t remember your name, age, your life, Simon. Nothing. Not an ounce of recognition when they show you your torn up uniform. Not an ounce of recognition when you hold up a mirror in front of your face.

Not an ounce of recognition when the local men are shouting against each other, and while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you know it is about you, the way they point and glare, the way they call you a fucking filthy Brit. The other half of the group of men is a lot more quiet, they plead, and you can only imagine it is for your life, yet you do not fear for it.

What is a life worth if you can’t remember it?

But they let you live, and while you’re not sure why, you end up being thankful for it. At night you always end up dreaming about the same things, it is almost like clockwork, either you dream about yourself, walking around a maze, which seems to be without end, a skull mask in the middle of the maze. You always, always wake up whenever you find the mask.

The other dreams is about a faceless man, tugging on the bulletproof vest you wore when you were found, his knuckles brushing against the apples of your cheeks. He tries to shield you before the white flash goes off, but your dreams never reveal his face to you.

One time they dragged you back to the area where they had found you, a black chopper had landed nearby and you could make out that they wanted to know if the men rummaging the area seemed familiar to you.

But they didn’t. Four tall men, and while they wore the same uniform as you, none of them rang a bell inside your mind. You shook your head, implying you didn’t know them, no matter the matching uniforms. Not even the heartbroken screams from the masked man could crack open your memories.

Looking back, when the dreams started to come, you knew you recognized the mask one of them was wearing, it was the exact same as you would always find in the maze, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the face beneath it.

Slowly, but surely small glimpses of your life started to seep into your mind again, droplets of memories coming back. The smell of oatmeal brought a snippet of your childhood back, the memories of it being breakfast, and secretly feeding a spoonful to the dog.

With every little dot you could connect to your former, came an explanation to the people around you, with a lot of gestures, and some drawing, you could get your point across.

The smell of lavender brought you back to the house of your grandma, the strong scent always lingered in her house, and if you pressed your eyes shut and let the sun settle down on your skin, you could go back to that time.

While you peel off the skin of an orange you’re hit with a new memory, your breath hitching in your throat as your mind slowly makes the memory clear. You’re peeling an orange, a large hand holding on to your thigh as you peel the fruit. “Thanks lovie.” The gruff voice sounds so clear when you remember it, as if he is in the room with you and you know that it is someone important to you, as your body warmed up when you remember his voice.

But you just remember his voice, and not his name.

It would frustrate the living shit out of you, knowing that there is so much more memories hidden away in you, and you just can’t seem to remember them. You know that there is so much more to you, yet you’re unable to discover your own secrets.

When you’re stargazing, late at night, a new memory pops up, the masked man laying next to you in the grass, while the both of you look up at the stars, in the corner of your eye you can see him takes his mask off, the balaclava being pulled up to his nose, before he leans over and presses a kiss on your lips.

The realisation dawns on you, and while you can’t remember his name, it is clear that he is important for you, that you are important to him, and a cold feeling comes over you when you realise you let him slip between your fingers just because you didn’t recognize him. A knot in your chest as you try to remember who he is, who you are, why you were wearing the uniform. Panic taking over when your mind can’t answer your questions. The knot in your chest spreads through your body and soon you find yourself unable to breathe. Short, desperate burst in which you try to suck in as many air as you can.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

Fuck.

You remember, you remember walking in on him having a panic attack, you remember kneeling down to him, telling him to take a deep breathe in through his mouth, exhaling out his nose. You remember. You remember walking in on Simon.

Simon.

A loud sob leaves your mouth and your hand claws at your chest as you remember. You remember all the kisses, the three squeezes on your shoulder, or your bicep when he couldn’t tell you he loved you but still wanted you to know, you remember all the late evenings and lazy mornings.

Oh you finally remember.

Your loud sobs wake up the people who had cared for you, they’re worried and you can’t yet explain if the tears are from happiness or agony. But it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you finally remember. You could be described as hysterical when you point to your old uniform, back to yourself, trying to tell them that you DO remember, that you DO know who you are.

And never had you imagined how easy it would be to go back to your old life. You’d learn that you would be considered missing and killed in action for more than eight months now.

Eight months. You had missed 244 days of Simon’s life, and he had missed those days in yours.

The ambassy was kind enough to listen to your story, your fingerprints confirming your identity. K.I.A flashing the screen when they pull up your information. And you want nothing more than to go home, to feel safe in his embrace again. You’re not allowed to call him, since the two of you aren’t married he isn’t your legal contact person, and you have to wait, but you’ve waited 244 days, how much more will a few more hours hurt?

God, how you have missed him, with the returning memories, the feeling of longing for him also came back, and right now the only thing you wanted in life was to hold him again, to feel him again, to be his again.

The rest of the trip goes by fast, your mind can barely cope with the returned memories, let alone process what is happening when they put you back on a plane to your base, but you can feel the excitement, the love, oh you can feel it all.

Just like you can feel the dread seep into your bones when you see him, holding another woman’s hand.

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littlemissaddict · 1 year

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Welcome Home - Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader (18+)

Summary: Joe comes home after months away filming and he just can't seem to keep his hands to himself.

Word Count: 1049

Writers block is kicking my ass right now but this came to me after being inspired by this nsfw audio (18+ minors do not even think about it) Part 2 maybe? idk let me know what you think.

RPF please keep scrolling if it is not your thing

She busied herself tidying the apartment ready for Joe’s arrival home, not that it was dirty, there was just a few bits of washing that needed hanging on the airer to dry and her breakfast pots from this morning that she had planned to do after her shower only she’d left them forgotten in the sink. She cursed herself for leaving it so late almost as much as she willed herself to hurry as he was due to be home soon and she wanted to greet him at the door when he arrived, not have him come find her while she was doing chores.

She moved as if on autopilot and she was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door open or Joe call her name as he entered the apartment. In fact she didn’t realise that he was even home until she felt his arms wrap around her middle while she was still in the middle of putting the wet clothes on the airer.

“You know I had hoped for more of a welcome home but I guess Cinders had more important things to do” he muses, his breath ghosting against her ear as she lets out a snort of laughter at his comparison, laughter that was soon cut off by a gasp as his lips met the skin of her neck. The top in her hands that was midway to the airer was forgotten the moment his lips brushed against her skin and it was soon on the floor as his hands left her hips in favour of running over her body instead, “God I’ve missed you so much love, I swear it was torture being away from you for so long” he hummed as her body melted against him, her head falling back against his shoulder and unintentionally giving him more access to the skin of her neck which he took full advantage of.

She couldn’t help but moan his name as his teeth nipped against the sensitive skin in the junction where her neck met her shoulder, just above her collarbone. “Missed you too” she spoke almost breathless after a few kisses and touches from him but then again it had been a long few months without his touch, so long that it felt like a lifetime ago or so she told herself to lessen the embarrassment of how easily he got her worked up. Although when she felt the hard length of his cock pressing up against her lower back she realised just how much he needed this as well.

“Yeah?” he asked, one of his hands now working it’s way down her body, ghosting over her hip until it disappeared beneath the waistband of the grey pyjama shorts she was wearing and wandered lower still until he was groaning as his hand was snug between her legs, pressing firmly over her panties and feeling the wetness that was now soaking them. “God you’re soaked, I bet you’re so turned on that you can come from just a finger pressing against that sweet neglected clit of yours” he chuckled lowly as his hand moved to slip under her panties, running his fingers through her folds and getting them wet until he did just as he’d promised.

A broken moan escaped her as his middle finger pressed against her clit and he slowly increased the pressure on it causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot through her body as her hips ground into his touch and because he still had her body pressed against him it caused her ass to rub against the tent in his pants. “Fuck baby, that’s it grind against me, make yourself cum for me” he moaned encouragingly as his lips began their assault on her neck again, sucking and nibbling hard enough that she was sure he was going to leave marks that she would have to cover up in the following days.

Not that that was high on her priority list in the moment, not when his free hand slid under her shirt and began toying with her nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds which only made her arch her back in an attempt to push her chest further into his hands as she chased her high that was approaching quicker than she’d have expected. A chant of his name was all that left her lips in a vague warning just as she tipped over the edge and the pleasure washed over her, “That’s it good girl” he praised as her body tensed and her legs shook and he took over beginning to rub small, fast circles over her clit as he worked her through her orgasm only stopping when she was whining from overstimulation and pushing his hands away.

“You did so good for me baby” he cooed, retracting his hand from her shorts, sucking the remnants of her cum from his hand before wiping his hand on his shirt. Lifting her head from where it had stayed in the crook of his neck she turned her head so that she could kiss him and he welcomed her lips happily, revelling in the slow languidness of it as she recovered from the fuzziness still clouding her brain.

When she pulled away she turned on still shaky legs, moving to drop to her knees in front of him but his hands gripped her forearms keeping her upright as she tried to protest but he just shook his head, “I need a shower and you, Cinders, need to finish up here” he teased, letting go of her arms when she stopped trying to fight him instead she settled for jutting out her bottom lip and looking at him with the best puppy dog eyes she could muster in hopes of getting him to change his mind. Instead all it seemed to do was make him laugh, “after that though love, I’m all yours and you can have me however you want” he promised with a smile as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead, making her smile as she allowed him to go. She turned and picked back up where she left off, her mind racing with all the ways she could give him the welcome home he deserved.

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader smut #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader smut #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn drabble #joseph quinn oneshot #joe quinn smut #joe quinn drabble #joe quinn oneshot #joseph quinn #joe quinn #rpf

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jminshairtie · 2 months

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Can we be something more ?

Min Yoongi x Reader

Yoongi is VERY soft.

Reader is half Korean and half Western(White, Black, Hispanic, Japanese, Native American)

Reader knows who Bts is but doesn’t really care for them

I wrote this in my notes app so pls😭😞

I was sitting alone in the coffee shop until I saw a group of men, they looked kind of young…maybe in their mid 20s. I looked back down because Seoul isn’t the SAFEST place for a woman like me to be in at 12 am. My stomach started to bubble as I felt a strong wave of…depression? Tiredness? Fatigue..? I felt sick. I looked back up at the window and saw the seven men now standing closer to the door. There was one in particular who caught my eye. He had on a hoodie, a grey bucket hat and black sweats.

His face was bare and glossy, which made me think that he had just washed up before coming outside with his friends. The bell rang signaling that the door was being opened. My eyes shot to the door as me and the same man held eye contact. “Yah! I’ll see you later, take jungkook home. ”(응! 나중에 보자, 정국을 집에 데려가." He said in Korean. His Daegu dialect coming out strong. The man looks really familiar. Like I’ve seen him before. Maybe I was just seeing things. “Hi, um ma’am…” I looked up and saw him standing above me fairly close. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you want to sit here?” I questioned softly. “Nah nah it’s fine, I just wanted to ask if you were alright…I didn’t want you thinkin’ I was a creep considering you’re all alone..” His face is so smooth..and his eyes are so soft. He looks SO damn familiar. “Um ma’am..?” He waved his hand slightly across my face. “Oh I’m sorry…uh yea no I totally didn’t think of it. I was about to leave either way..”

“No no…you should stay. I’m pretty sure you arrived here early and it’s dark. In order to keep a beautiful woman like you safe please, stay until I leave..” okay now I would NEVER stay if a man, RANDOM one at that asked me to stay until he left but…fuck it. “Sure” I said in English. He smiled at me with his gummy smile. “What do you want to drink?” He questioned. He kind of sounded like Min Yoongi from BTS. Holy shit….GIRL- It is yoongi… “Anything iced..” He giggled… ”Okay cutie.”

20 mins later

It’s been around 20 minutes since he’s been here and we’ve made good talk. “So um…do you have a husband or, boyfriend of chance…?” I have a failed talking stage that I’m still friends with… I thought to myself. “Well, I have a failed talking stage but…I don’t really talk to him anymore so…I came here to empty my head you know?…” he took my hand in his and softly held it in his. “It’s okay pretty…don’t worry about it anymore…” I smiled and nodded. “What about you yoongi…is anyone catching your eye lately..?” His eyes went wide as he turned around then looked back at me. “Please..how did you know..?” “That gummy smile of yours.” He smiled softly and embraced my touch. He started shifting in his pockets before pulling his phone out, and sliding it across the table.

“I trust you pretty girl….”

#min yoongi #jimin x female reader #bts ot7 #bangtan #bangta boys #jungkook #yoongi #suchwita #taehyung #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #namjoon #jhope #bts jhope

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beenjen · 2 months

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I’m having a bit of a struggle. Generalizing, and maybe it’s a me thing, I just don’t feel I can be successful with ALL the different balls I’m juggling up in the air.

I either kill it at work, have a clean home, have my self care on point, have an amazing connection with my husband, nail it at parenting, or I’m dropping one of the ‘balls’ and it shatters.

> If the house is clean and I’m working out regularly, I may forget a kid assignment, not get a good conversation with hubs.

> if hubs and I are really quality timing, the house goes to shit, the yard is a disaster and the kids may get too much screen time.

> if I’m on point with my job, I’m not keeping tight enough check with my dad, I forget the dogs medicine and I might miss yoga.

Why does this feel so hard? The more I work at balance, it’s like a handful of sand - you cup your palm and the sand stays there, but you try to grip it and hold onto it, it’s squeezing out, oozing between your fingers, sifting to the ground. Is it that I need to chill the fuck out? Am I not chill enough? I constantly feel like an utter failure.

I’ll have a brilliant success at work and amazing patient engagement, but a call from school that the kids are doing x/y, or I’ll fuss with hubs. I’ll do amazing at getting caught up with laundry, grocery shop, make dentist appointments, but somehow miss the kids are out for an ENTIRE WEEK IN MARCH.

Which is what happened. The kids, as long as we’ve been at this school, have not had a full week off. We extend the week in the fall for a full break, or add a Friday for a trip here and there. This year though, and despite me vividly remembering I put all the school break dates on the calendar, and them never having a week off in March in the past 4 years, they do, and I missed it.

So, it’s in 2 weeks. I’ve restructured everything, to make it work, BUT, how did I miss that? Also, why is it only on me? The responsibility of missing something so big? I don’t feel accountability is equal. In so many things.

At my job, I work with patients, and the details I’ll keep to myself, bottom line though, at least 5 times a week, a patient who has missed the last 3 appointments, hasn’t come in for labs, didn’t go to PT or another specialty referral, will call in furious saying nothing has been done for them.

At home, my kid, who never picks up a damn thing, will be super upset she can’t find a certain toy. Or will have left something outside and it’s now ruined because it rained, or the dog ate it and it’s somehow my fault?

J doesn’t have clean socks, because they are all wadded up at the foot of his bed, or between the couch cushions, instead of in his laundry basket and they aren’t washed. My bad?

Momma is spent folks. I’m barely fucking surviving here. I am surrounded by folks who take no responsibility or ownership and I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not even washing my hair regularly, getting a walk at work, nor can I commit to even one day a week of yoga or even the same day of yoga consistently, but somehow, any and everything that goes wrong, is missed or overlooked is on me?

Is anyone feeling me? Please don’t tell me it’s my effing hormones, I’ll probably break something.

Love you guys xx

#poll time #serious question #feel me #east nashville #nashville #working mom #i want to cry #Spotify #feelings

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parvulous-writings · 9 months

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About the Night before // Vander x reader

Request: Hi! What about a reaction of Vander x reader where vander goes to benzo and he sees some scratches on vanders shoulder or back from the night before with the reader? :D don’t rush things it was just a thought! :3

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: Benzo visits his friend Vander one morning, and finds out what the old Hound of the Underground has been up to.

Warnings: Mild language

Words: 2K

Notes: So, it’s not scratches, per se, but a very similar situation! And it turns into a very long convo 0-0 My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

A thick, green fog clouded the upper skies of the Lanes, letting nought but a little ray of light through here and there; a particularly nice morning for the Undercity. Business, of all kinds, was starting up as per the norm, one of these being the Last Drop - a frequent place for all dwellers of the Lanes. As the freehouse opened it’s doors to the general public, the first to stroll in was a very close friend of the owner - another local merchant, by the name of Benzo. Trailing behind, and nearly getting hit by the door as it started to swing shut behind Benzo, was the older man’s young ward, who had insisted he accompany him to the establishment, so that he could see the few other children around his age. Benzo, of course, complied - anything to keep the young boy out of trouble, and somewhere he knew. Well, for a little while, at least. Whilst the more youthful of the pair scuttered off to find his peers, Benzo made his way over to the bar. “Mornin’.” He grumbled, resting his arms on the cool wooden surface as he shuffled himself onto a stool. The tall man behind the bar - by the name of Vander - gave Benzo a small huff in greeting as he ran a damp cloth over the surface of the bar, trying in vain to remove some of the years old sticky patches where beverages had been spilt. "And what do you want?" The man asked, though not in any way malicious. His tone carried the amusement that most of their conversations held at one point or another. Benzo pretended to think for a moment. "How about a mate who's less of an arse than you?" the pair chuckled lightly, and Vander shook his head slowly, he knew it was all in good fun. “Just thought I’d drop by, check in, and whatnot...” Benzo continued, “Been a while since I’ve seen you... something wrong?” Vander glanced at the man across from him, as he moved to pour him a pint. “No, nothing’s wrong...” Vander replied honestly. “Just been busy...” “Kids getting into scuffles again?” “No, not more than usual...” Vander shrugged. Benzo hummed at this. “Right...” It was unclear whether or not he actually believed Vander. He tapped the fingers of one hand rhythmically against the scratched surface of the bar, somewhat deep in thought.

Vander watched him, his grey eyes flitting between his friend’s face, and his never-resting fingers. He quirked one, bushy brow, waiting patiently for Benzo to do or say something more. But, he didn’t. Not for a few minutes at least. It was then that something caught Benzo’s eye; something only just visible over his friend’s shirt collar. A small mark, possibly even a shadow - Benzo wasn’t sure. “You got a little bit of uh... dirt, there...” Benzo scratched the area that was affected on Vander on his own skin. Vander’s brow furrowed slightly, and he replied simply; “I han’t been anywhere that bad... And the better half ran me a bath last nigh’...” He grumbled, starting to rub his neck, initially thinking that perhaps he had missed a patch whilst washing the night before. It seemed to click for both of them at the same time. Vander’s cheeks started to turn an interesting shade of red, though thankfully this was mostly hidden by his beard. Benzo couldn’t help the chuckle that started to bubble past his lips, hanging his head and shaking it slowly. “Good night then, I take it?” The man asked, finally bringing his face up to lock eyes with Vander again, before falling into a new lapse of giggles. Vander just sighed, giving his friend a moment to get it out of his system. “Yeah, actually. Had some alone time with the other half, and-” “I can see that.” Benzo blurted, laughing again. Vander, once more, looked unimpressed. “... And had some conversations.” Vander tried to continue, not that Benzo was listening this time around. It took another minute or so for his friend to settle again. “I’m glad you’re finding it so amusing.” “How can I not?” Benzo continued to chuckle. “I’d have thought that a man, at your age, would know how to hide a bloody hickey!” Vander just sighed in response to his friend’s guffaws. He knew better than to try and speak over his friends instances of giggles - firstly because it would only anger himself and Benzo, and secondly because he knew that moments like this could be few and far between in the Undercity. “Right...” Benzo sighed happily, “Sorry, I’m done, I’m done...” He wiped under his eye with the back of his hand. Vander looked quite bemused. “I’ll take your word for it...” Vander shook his head, a light smile on his lips, only just hidden by his beard. “But yes... had some conversations, after the fact, I mean.” “So we’re just skippin’ to the end of it all, you’re not tellin’ me any details?” Benzo asked, only half joking. Vander gave him a mildly unimpressed look. “No, you’re not getting details.” He paused, and then continued. “So, me and the better half had a conversation...” “Yeah, you said that.” “... About maybe having some more kids.”

Silence fell between the two men. Benzo was the first to speak. “More kids?” He asked, incredulously, leaning back slightly where he sat, keeping one hand on the table to steady himself. He let out a long breath of disbelief, as if he were the one who was planning to expand the family. “Don’t you think four is enough already? Not to mention the amount of trouble they get into on their own? How the hell are you going to deal with more kids?” “We’ll manage.” Vander replied simply; he had faith in both his abilities, and yours. His kids had always taken a shine to you, why or how it had happened was never really clear, but the younger ones certainly seemed to listen to you more than they did most adults. Benzo just looked at him in more disbelief. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, now. “Stop gawking at me.” Vander scolded, but the man’s expression did not change. “I’m not helping if they get into trouble...” Benzo warned. “I wouldn’t expect you to. They’re not your problem, are they?” Vander chuckled, slinging the rag he used to clean glasses over his shoulder to keep it out of his way. "I s'pose not... But they'll be around little man, won't they? That'll eventually make them my problem." Benzo laughed - it was quite a common thing for Vander's kids and Benzo's ward to get into trouble together. Vander hummed in agreement. "Yeah... But I think Vi might help them... As much as she can, at least." "Aye, she's a good role model, besides all the scuffles and back alley fights... Takes after you. I remember when we were that age and you were just the same." Benzo recalled with a sly smile. "Yeah, I remember... And I also remember the reason I got into those fights." Vander looked knowingly at his old friend. ”Certain someone I knew kept getting himself into trouble... And it’s not like me to just leave someone to fend for themselves in a situation they can’t handle, is it?” Benzo sighed quietly - he knew Vander had a point. He couldn’t remember a time where he had been in over his head, and Vander hadn’t come to give him a hand. It was certainly unlike the burly man - or his pink haired daughter, who certainly took after him when it came to fist fights - to leave someone unable to defend themselves. “Vi will take care of them, if me or the other half can’t... I know it ain’t... ideal, in a place like this, and I know it’s another mouth to feed, before you even say anything.” Vander cut Benzo off just as he was about to speak. “But, I don’t know how to explain it to you without you thinking I’m a complete and utter sap.” “I thought that anyway. You’re just confirming my theory.” Benzo joked with a deep rumbling laugh. “To be fair on you, though... Could take your mind off of other things, eh?” Vander nodded quietly in response - he agreed entirely that whilst an addition to the family could cause certain stresses, they could also be an absolute joy to have. “An’ on top of that,” Benzo continued, “Could help some of them calm down a bit... I think that could also help with all the scuffles...” Benzo was referencing one child in particular; and Vander knew it. Young Mylo had been bristly ever since he turned twelve. Vander was sure that it wasn’t something the young boy always meant for, but it certainly happened often, especially with the youngest of the bunch, Powder. Perhaps Benzo had a point - a new addition to the family could in fact help Mylo regulate his emotions with a little more success, or it could go in the exact opposite direction and lead to a total fallout.

“So how you goin’ to tell ‘em?” Benzo quizzed - a valid query. “Well, I think Vi already knows... or at least has a feelin’ that that’s we’ve been discussing, behind closed doors an’ the like...” Vander moved around the bar to actually sit next to his friend, rather than remaining standing on the other side of the bar. It made him feel closer to his friend, and more at ease than before. This was a close conversation between the two of them, so why not physically be closer? “Y’know, she ain’t brainless... But I still don’t know how she feels about it all... I think she thinks the same way you did... It’s dangerous - and neither of you are wrong... It just... Might be a kind of light in the darkness, for us...” Vander’s voice was quieter now, more gentle. “You have never sounded sappier than you do right now. And that’s saying something.” “I know.” Then silence fell between them both once more. There was something... Odd, permeating this silence. A sense of... Almost comfort, or as comforting as the pair dared to get with one another. The two were extremely close, but they rarely would divulge into their emotions with one another, it wasn’t the done thing. There were touching moments like this, though they were very few and far between, as neither of the men really felt comfortable in doing so, it wasn’t something that they had done with most people - or in the case of Benzo, any people. It was new to them, and naturally they shied away from the feeling, and the discomfort of bearing their souls to one another. “What about the other kids?” Benzo broke the silence, unable to bear it any longer. “Well they’ve got no idea... I don’t think Powder will be worried, she’ll probably be more excited than anything else... Claggor will be a little wary, but the same... It’s Mylo I’m worried about - ‘specially when the kid gets older. Y’know what he’s like.” Benzo nodded sagely as Vander went on, humming quietly in agreement. “If he don’t mellow out enough for you, send him over to mine sometime, I’ll keep him busy... He can help little man, they’ll keep each other occupied, I’m sure.” Vander gave Benzo a smile, “I owe you one,” He told the man, as both got to their feet. They knew from the dim light streaming through the window in the door it was time for them both to go their separate ways for the day, and reconvene at a later time. “You owe me more than just one, Vander.” Benzo jested, and both laughed, shaking the hand of the other, before Benzo gave a wave, going back to his shop on the other side of the Lanes. Vander moved back behind the bar, and the day went on as normal, operating practically like clockwork, as it had done for so many years now.

#vander arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane fluff #vander x reader #Vander #arcane vander #vander oneshot

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rubeau-art · 5 months

Text

PREVIEW - A Town Called Hope

Hey all! The current draft of chapter one is under the cut (to save people on mobile from a long post), and the Mp3 file can be found [HERE]

The audio isn't the best, but it's serviceable

Cheers!

A Town Called Hope

Chapter One

Grey clouds hung heavy in the evening sky, the threat of rain rumbling within them. The trip had been uneventful, but looking at those clouds would give anyone pause. Reynard was no exception. Uneventful or not, he was not about to drive through that approaching storm in the dark. It looked like the next village he found would be his home for the night.

It was hard to tell if the sun had set by the time the lights of next the village came into view. ‘Blackwood’ the faded sign by the road announced. A fitting name for the place. Dark woods pressed in on the little village from all sides- expect the one that was pressed in by a broad lake. The clouds Reynard had been trying to avoid had settled into a dark blanket over the woods and thatched rooftops, and by the time he pulled up to the village Inn, the rain had dropped. It clattered like marbles on the windshield of his tiny yellow car, and for a moment he debated sleeping in the back seat. He glanced back at the seat in question. No. He was not going to scrunch himself in there just to avoid getting a little bit wet. Not again. Taking a deep breath, he snatched his bag from the passenger seat and swung the door open.

In the few seconds it took for him to sprint across the carpark to cover of the Inn, Reynard was soaked through. He hunched his shoulders against the cold highland air and hurried inside.

A wave of relief washed over Reynard as he stood there, dripping on the doormat. It looked like most of the town was in that night. To get away from the rain? Or to not be alone during the storm? The warm air was full of circling chatter and laughter, interspersed with the occasional crack and pop from the roaring fire at the far end of the building. The sounds seemed to hold up the old wooden rafters overhead, giving the place a life all its own. Reynard received some warm smiles as he dripped his way over to the bar, but everyone seemed content to keep to their little circles and conversations. That was until he made it to the bar and caught the attention of the young lady behind the counter.

“Excuse me, Miss? I was wondering-“

The young lady turned to face him, tucking a wayward strand of bleached-blonde hair behind her ear. The second she laid eyes on him she let out a small, shrill squeak- then covered her mouth rather quickly, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Oh no, Reynard thought to himself.

“I- I’m so sorry, I don’t know where that noise came from,” She waggled her hand in the air between them. An anxious tick maybe? “You’re Reynard Walker! You must get this a lot, but I’ve read all your books. I’m really a huge fan.”

He didn’t ‘get that a lot’. The few books he had written had been poorly received by the public. They much preferred the articles and fluff he wrote for magazines as a part of his day job. This young lady seemed to be one of the few exceptions. He felt a smile pull on his lips and nodded politely. “I really appreciate that. It’s a pleasure to meet a fan. Miss…?”

“Shit-“ she covered her mouth again, cheeks burning, “I mean, um- Anna. It’s Anna.” She took a moment to calm herself down and did her best to keep her hands from fluttering about. “S-so! What can I do for you?”

“A room for the night, please. And maybe a mop.” He glanced at the line of puddles he’d left on the flagstone floor behind him.

Anna followed his gaze. “Oh gosh- I’ll sort that in a second.” She fished about beneath the counter. The click of a lock. A soft clink. A key set on the bar. “We have more than enough rooms this time of year. No one hangs around after the end of the Autumn festival. Not unless they’re hungover.” Reynard raised an eyebrow as he picked up the key. She might have floundered before, but Anna had been quick to find her stride. Not the worst fan he’d come across by any means. “If you don’t mind me asking-” Anna continued as she went back to pulling pints for the locals. “What brings you all the way out here? Didn’t think there would be anything worth writing about in these woods. Unless it’s a personal trip? You getting yourself away from the big city for a while?”

Reynard felt his lips tighten. “Personal work.” He said flatly, “Not here though. I’ll be heading up to Hope in the morning.” He saw the way her eyes lit up. Anna wanted to know more. Reynard was not going to give it to her.

Anna sighed and smiled. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait, then.” Reynard blinked. He was surprised there had been no attempt to push. His shoulders relax and smiled again. He was too used to being around other journalists.

Anna waved her hand at him, shooing him away from the bar. “Go on now. Go get yourself dry. We don’t want you catching a cold and having to stay here when you’ve got work to do.”

---

Reynard found his room upstairs, dropped his things and showered before heading back down to the bar. Tucked away in a quiet corner, he watched locals drift in and out with the breaks in the downpour outside. Anna brought him dinner at one point. As he ate, he fished out his phone and tapped out a text.

‘Hey Chris, finally stopped for the night. Cute town. I think you’d like it.’

Almost immediately his phone rang in his hand. It was Chris. He picked up.

“Glad to know you’re still alive. Not one text. All day.” Chris was clearly annoyed, but Reynard could tell she was happy to hear from him, “Anyway, did you make it to the border, or is this another cute town you’re talking about?”

“Not at the border yet. Storm held things up.” He could hear her relief through the phone. Relief that he hadn’t pushed through the storm and into the night no doubt. “It’s nice here though. Little village, nice Inn. Chatty locals.”

“Oh you must love that.” She laughed, and Reynard smiled. “Alright I’ll let you go now I know you’re alive, but you have to tell me when you arrive tomorrow, okay?”

“If there’s any reception. Otherwise, It might be a day or two before I get back here.” He could hear the little noise she made in disapproval. “Hey, at least Hope’s an empty town. How much trouble could I get into?”

A few tables across, a stranger tilted his head, listening to the writer’s half of the conversation.

“Oh my god, Ren! Now you’re for sure going to get into trouble. It’s like saying ‘what could possibly go wrong’.” She was laughing. “You just can’t help yourself can you. Listen, have a good night and I’ll send the police if I don’t hear from you in a week.”

“You know they won’t come again.” He teased, hearing the roll of her eyes.

“I’ll use a fake name for you. Goodnight, Ren.”

“Night, Chris.” Reynard looked at the blank screen of his phone after the click. After a moment a flicker of movement at the edge of the table pulled him from his thoughts.

A young man stood there. Long dark hair framed a tired-looking face. But those eyes were anything but tired. Reynard recognized that look. That spark of curiosity. He’d caught it on his own reflection many times. Reynard tucked his phone away, his gaze set on the man as he waited. An awkward pause dragged on before the stranger spoke in a hushed voice.

“I overheard you talking to Anna. You’re heading to Hope-” Reynard frowned, the young man hurried to explain himself. “Wait- Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it. I gathered that much from your talk with Anna. But I… I have something that might be of interest to you.”

“What makes you think that?” Reynard’s tone was calm. Where was this going?

“You’re a writer, yeah? A writer going to Hope for a ‘personal project’.” He fixed Reynard with a stare laced with- what? Understanding? Urgency? Another pause. Reynard gestured to the seat opposite him. The stranger slipped into the booth, a little smile on his face. “I’m Roman, by the way.”

“Reynard.” He offered. Then, with a hint of humor in his voice, “Though you probably ‘overheard’ that too.”

“Maybe.” Roman chuckled, “Bad habit of mine. I’ve read some of your work too. Your research is solid. That’s why I think you might want to take this.”

Roman pulled a battered notebook from inside his duffle coat. Its spine was reinforced with tape, and the pages of the book groaned from the sheer number of notes stuffed between them. He set it on the table and pushed it across to Reynard.

Reynard picked up the book and turned it over in his hands. Thumbing through the pages, his eyebrows raised. The book was full of research notes. Photos, fragments of maps, cuttings from newspapers across the decades. It was all about Hope. Roman had puzzled together a record of the town’s cryptic history, right up until it had gone dark in the late 40s. Pieces were missing, but it was as near a complete a report Reynard had ever seen. As he turned another page, a photograph fell out. Faded and water damaged, it showed children running in a schoolyard while a woman watched on.

“How did you get all this?” Reynard almost whispered, staring at the photo on the table. The water damage had made the woman’s face impossible to make out, but something about her was familiar. It made him uncomfortable.

“I’ve been looking into the town on and off for a few years.” Roman glanced over his shoulder. Paranoia maybe? “Figured with you being a writer and all, you might be able to get some use out of them.”

Reynard tucked the photo away and set the book down on the table. “You would pass over ‘a few years’ worth of notes to a stranger because you overheard me talking about the same town at a bar?” He didn’t even bother to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“Only if they have a ‘personal’ reason for going there.” Roman locked eyes with him. “No one has been there since the town was fenced off decades ago, and there’s no evidence that anyone ever left the town before it went dark. At least not in the records. But what if off the record, there was someone who made it out after all-“

“They would be dead by now.” Reynard cut in sharply. He pushed the book back across the table and stood. “Nice meeting you.”

“Wait! I- Shit!” Roman moved to stand- and his phone rang. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him hesitate in going after Reynard.

Reynard didn’t hang around. He strode out of the bar, up the stairs into the quiet of the guestrooms.

---

Sat in the quiet of his room, Reynard pulled a battered leather case from his things. Resting his thumb on the latch, he stared at the worn edges and patched corners of the case. His hand was shaking. Roman’s words rattled through his brain. Someone had gotten out. But having Roman pin him that quickly had been unsettling.

He couldn’t do this to himself. Not tonight. Overthinking it all would do him no good. He tucked the case back into his things and pushed them under the bed. ‘Tomorrow’s problems’, he thought.

Thunder rolled overhead as he turned off the light. Rain against the windows pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

#Darkbloom #The Deep Archives #A Town Called Hope #Reynard Walker #Roman Hart #Anna Stevens #Christine Burroughs

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eggcompany · 2 months

Text

Oh Heavens Me

Chuck comes home expecting a sleeping Ned. She gets so much more than she ever imagined.

AKA; Chuck walks in on Ned masturbating by humping a pillow. She watches him fall apart and they talk while he showers after. She gets a terribly good idea.

“Ned, honey, I picked up the tape and plastic wrap. Let’s refresh that- oh” Chuck said as she walked through the door. Ned had said he was going to lay down for a nap before she left, so she turned to their bedroom with her shopping bags in hand. But she was met with quite the scene.

“Oh my god!” The man, her man, screeched and jumped, successfully throwing himself off the side of the bed.

He’d just been caught humping his pillow like a dog. He shoved his cock down into grey sweatpants and sat up already spitting out an apology.

“I’m sorry I thought you’d be out for another hour and I thought I locked the door! I’m sorry! I-” He said quickly, waving his hands around in panic.

“What were you up to Mr. Piemaker?” Chuck asked as she walked around to stand by Ned’s feet. She stared down at where Ned’s erection pushed up the fabric at the front of his pants. She couldn’t believe what she’d just seen. It was hot, obviously, but also so odd. But so was Ned.

Ned scooted back and pulled his shirt down to cover what was about to be a wet spot. He swallowed thickly and tried to breathe a bit slower.

“I um I was doing nothing?” Ned said and smiled weakly. The way the pilled material of his sweatpants rub against his tip and shaft made him wanna curl up and finish what he had started. He tried to keep his eyes focused and his breathing even but it was difficult.

Chuck smiled and shook her head. She looked back to the pillow that was previously being assaulted. She picked it up and examined the wet spot on it. There was a bit of a divet from where the man been driving his cock against it.

Ned got onto his knees and tried to grab it back but Chuck was faster and pulled it back as Ned stood up.

“No, don't touch that! It’s um it’s dirty! I need to wash it!” Ned said quickly and kept trying to snatch the pillow but being cautious not to touch Chuck's hands. He really didn’t need her to tease him right now. Each movement rubbed his hard cock against the inside of his sweatpants. It made his knees weak and made his hips tremble.

Chuck snickered and turned her back. She could still see Ned’s cock hard and needy in his pants. His face was all red and blushed and he sounded so desperate. She thought he looked so… hot. Cute and hot.

“Hm I don’t think so. I don’t think you finished what you started. Come to think of it, I've lived here for quite a while and I’ve never seen you masturbate.” Chuck said with fake innocence.

Ned whined and pressed his hands down on his dick. He didn’t want Chuck to know how he masturbated. It was weird and he knew it. He didn’t want that to be the thing to drive her away.

“That’s cute. Now keep going.” Chuck said seriously and tossed the pillow into Ned’s chest.

Ned looked shocked for a second, clutching the pillow to his chest, as Chuck sat in the chair that was in the corner of the room. She kept a serious face the entire time.

“What? No, no I can’t. I can’t, I get nervous.” Ned said and moved from foot to foot. He was so close to cumming. His balls ached. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to let Chuck see him. He really just wanted something to rub on his cock and let him cum.

“Yeah no. That’s not gonna work. You're not nervous right now. Looks like you're even more excited. Now keep going.” Chuck said as she looked directly at Ned’s crotch as he kept shifting around. She crossed her legs and kept her eyes glued to him.

Ned chewed the inside of his mouth and shifted foot to foot and thought.

It’ll be fine. Fine. It’ll be Fine. It’s Chuck.

He sat down on the bed.

Chuck faked being bored and motioned her hand to come on . She was really quite excited but if she was excited Ned would get embarrassed and shut her out.

He scooted back to the middle of the bed and crossed his legs criss-cross. Pillow laying beside himself.

It’ll be fine.

Ned looked at Chuck with a nervous look.

“You’ll be okay. Just do what you were doing. I’ll be right here.” Chuck said and smiled sweetly. Ned always just needs some reassurance. He just needs a little encouragement.

Ned swallowed and pulled his pillow into his lap. He let out a sigh. The pressure against his cock was good. Better if the hot skin could rub against the soft silky fabric.

Ned gave one more glance up at Chuck, who’s eyes shimmered and seemed to get darker as her pupils expanded, before pulling his cock out behind the pillow. The border between them helped. She wouldn’t be able to see his cock or the way his hips desperately bucked.

He pushed his forehead into the top of the pillow and whimpered a bit as he moved the pillow to press against his length. His first small thrust pulled a sigh as he melted into the firmness of his pillow, wrapping his arms around it, almost hugging it. He let the plush cushion support his weight.

He pushed up against the pillow and moaned lightly. He did it over and over and over, pushing the pillow down as his hips pushed up. He got lost in the pleasure of it, whining and forgetting all about his audience.

He pulled the pillow closer to himself and pushed it harder onto his cock. He let out gasping little moans and high squeaky whines. He tried to keep his noises down, though he never really made a whole lot of noise in the first place.

He breathed harder and felt his balls drawn up and globs of precum smear across the pillowcase.

He felt his orgasm coming closer and closer. He brought his face to lie sideways on the top of the pillow, facing out, and caught Chuck's eyes.

He gasped and tears pricked the edges of his eyes. He started to pant harshly as his eyes floated out of focus, only really seeing Chuck’s outline.

“You’re so pretty. I wish I could kiss you right now.” Chuck whispered with her eyes full of devotion and love. She could barely strangle back the urge to tackle him back onto the bed and kiss him and feel his body and sit on his-

Ned’s eyes crossed as he fell forward and pushed his hips up two more times before he let out a long low moan. His mouth formed a perfect O as his muscles spasmed for a moment.

Chuck drew in a strangled breath as she watched Ned’s eyelids flicker and his hips stutter. He went completely lax and laid with his face against the sheet and the pillow supporting his body.

Ned caught his breath after a moment of his eyes being closed. He looked up and Chuck wasn’t in her chair anymore. He moved to be on his hands and knees.

“Ch-“ He started but was stopped.

He felt a pillow on his back.

“You have a cute ass, you know that? Why won't you let me see your body more? I bet your all over really cute.” Chuck said softly as she rubbed the pillow that laid across his back. She had saw an opportunity to see the Pie Makers little bottom and she jumped at the chance.

Ned shivered and turned red with embarrassment. His sweatpants had slipped down his hips and off his ass. It revealed his pale buttocks, each with a few freckles speckling across them, and his shirt had ridden up to show his thin waist and boney back.

Ned groaned and sat up slowly. Chuck walked back to her chair and flopped down into it.

“I’m not ‘cute’. I’m big and gangly and and not cute. I don’t understand why you even wanted to see me like this or why you’d ever want to see me naked.” Ned grumbled in a nasty tone as he sat back and grabbed a tissue from his bedside. He wiped away the cum from his softening cock and put himself away. He carefully pulled the soiled pillowcase and turned the case inside out.

“It’s because I think you’re cute. You’d like to see me naked I bet. You’d like that wouldn’t you Ned?” Chuck said the last in a low seductive tone. Ned whipped his head around and he watched as Chuck unbuttoned her blouse.

“You d-don’t need-” Ned tried to object but he couldn’t as more and more of her chest became exposed.

“I’ll take something off. You take something off. I’ve just seen you orgasm, Ned. How about I’ll get down to my underwear and I get to see you shower? Fair enough?” Chuck said as she pulled her top off. Ned was frozen as he took in her form. She stood and slipped her skirt off her legs and sat back down in her chair with her legs crossed.

He just stared at her for a long moment. She had on a simple plain looking cherry red bra and yellow cheeky cut underwear. She looked so… warm. Soft.

Ned stared at her thighs as they squished against the chair. He had flashes of thighs about being between them. He looked at her chest and imagined how nice it would be to kiss the space between them. He got lost in thought.

“Ned, you need to take yours off now.” Chuck said and smiled at Ned who stayed standing by the bed, cam on pillowcase in hand. Face blank of expression. Other than his blow out pupils and the faraway look in his eyes.

“Ned, come on. If you really don’t want to just say so. I won’t judge.” Chuck said kindly and raised her hand in surrender. This snapped Ned out of his daze of… less than savory thoughts. His face pinkened and he looked down at his pillow. The wet spot reminding him of what he just let Chuck see.

It’s fine. It’s just Chuck.

Mind still fogged a bit with the sweet release he hadn’t been able to reach in over a month, he pulled his shirt over his head. He still turned away from Chuck after a moment though. His skin prickled at the chill of the apartment air.

“Oh come on I just saw youtube off on your pillow, your nipples don’t scare me.” Chuck said, chuckling and stood up. She wished she could grab his shoulders and turn him around. Or pull his sweatpants down to his ankles. Oh she’d love just to be able to pull those sweatpants down.

Instead she walked to the doorway and stood. Ned turns red and kept his eyes down. He put his shirt in hand with his pillowcase and put his hand on his waistband.

“Are you sure? You won’t think anything weird, will you?” Ned said and looked over at Chuck but quickly looked away. He’d seen her dressed like this before, realiving bees and going to bed. But in this sense it seemed… so intimate. Too intimate.

“I make no promises about my thoughts. But I will try not to think anything too odd. Just c’mon Ned! I’m so curious…” Chuck offered and smiled at Ned's shy attitude.

“Nothing too… nothing too scary.” Ned replied, swallowing thickly. He glanced over at Chuck's eyes and slid his pants down to his ankles and stepped out of them. He wanted to hold the trousers over his crotch but just shoved them into his hand and walked quickly to the doorway, keeping his eyes up above Chuck's head.

"Excuse me." Ned forced out of his mouth.

Chuck just stood and took in all the boy in front of him. He was in fact quite cute. Thin, pale, and cute. She took a moment to look down at the still pinked up cock that laid against a slim thigh. That was cute too, now that it was nearly soft. Big but cute.

She stepped aside and let him walk past her to first put the pillowcase beside his hamper and then his clothes in the hamper and walk to the bathroom.

“Don’t look at my butt.” He said as he turned on the water and pulled only the clear curtain closed. Chuck giggled a bit and sat on the sink facing her boyfriend. She hadn’t even bothered to close the bathroom door. She indeed stared at his butt as he bent down to make sure the drain was open.

“Why not? Your little butt is so cute. I love the freckles.” Chuck said and obviously stared at Ned’s rear. He couldn’t decide whether to cover his junk or his butt and ended up just standing under the water turned away from her a bit.

“Oh come on don’t be so bashful. Actually, continue. It’s darling.” Chuck teased more and Ned giggled as he got a pump of body wash and started with his shoulders and arms.

“So why? Is it a kink or something?” Chuck asked as she took in Ned’s naked body. She liked his body. He was so lean and long and cute as a button. His muscles flexed under his skin each time he moved. His happy trail that was usually hidden by underwear was in full view, all short neat dark hair. His thighs and butt were slightly speckled with freckles. Maybe one day she could count them.

He turned and brought his hands up to wash his ears and neck.

“I don’t like um I don’t like touching myself with my hands. Like in a sex way. The whole touching dead things all the time really makes ya know. Lose it.” Ned said and nodded toward his groin. Chuck nodded and thought about it. Makes sense. Sort of.

“You know they make sex toys for that, right? Like tube contraption things with-“ Chuck said and started waving her hands around making shapes.

“Shush shushshushshushushushushush, I know but I can’t just go buy one. I tried and ran out of the store.” Ned stared off and ended up looking at the shower wall. He shivered at the memory of himself only two years ago walking into the dark store and being so overwhelmed with everything… going home full of need and discovering things he’d never thought about before…

“Why not?! Don’t you think I’d feel better than a pillow? Surely that pillow rubs you raw. You deserve nice things Ned.” Chuck explained exasperatedly. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact Ned knew he could have something better.

Ned shrugged and turned around which showed Chuck his front. Chuck couldn’t help but watch as the soapy studs slid down Ned’s slender form. From his shoulders down his chest over the ridges and dips of his abs over the dip of his hips and down his pale legs.

“I just… I went back a few times and tried but I always got too nervous and then a saleswoman asked me if I needed help because I was always there but I never bought anything. Anyway I got terrified and just stood there like an idiot. Well until I literally ran out of the store. I was too embarrassed to ever go back.” Ned explained and washed his hair. His neck all long and unmarked. She’d love to cover it in hickies. Especially over his adam’s apple which stood out with his head thrown back as it was.

“Well what if I go get you one? Then I could really get you going. Huh, how about that?” Chuck said and let her voice drop to a deeper and quieter tone. She also dropped from the sink and walked toward where Ned had his head back, rinsing his hair.

He wiped the water from his eyes and was about to object and say “ ‘oh no I could never ask you to do that and plus there are risks! Why don’t we stick to what we already do now’ ” but when he opened his mouth there was a crinkle of plastic there was suddenly a hand holding his fully soft cock causing him to curl over himself and let out a gasp and a breathy moan.

“I could tie you down and keep you there. I could milk you dry, Mister Pie Maker.” Chuck said quietly, in a low sultry tone. She drew her hand down his cock, pulling her hand tighter over the crown. The plastic was slick with water and offered no resistance.

Ned’s knees were unfortunately in the same state and he buckled. He barely softened the blow to his knees with his hands sliding down the shower wall.

Chuck gasped and knelt by him, obviously concerned.

“Oh my god! Ned! Are you okay?!” She said and Ned’s eyes flickered and then looked up at her. His lips were slightly open and he breathed slightly heavier. He swallowed and nodded.

“I’m okay. Just… ah really sensitive still. Oh gosh Chuck… I just came, you can’t talk all… all bothering like that.” Ned said as he turned the water off and stood up behind the plastic barrier.

Chuck smiled and made a decision in her mind.

“Well I think I forgot something at the store. How about you make dinner and actually take a nap. I’ll see you later.” Chuck said and leaned forward to catch the pie maker's lips through the plastic. Ned closed his eyes and started to melt into the kiss. He was tired and warm and a nap sounded perfect.

Chuck pulled back and cradled her lover's chin in her hands for a moment. She smiled at him and turned and marched out to put her clothes back on. She heard a whine as she left.

God. What was that woman thinking about?

#fanfic #egg_company #smut tag #pushing daises fanfic #pushing daisies #charlotte charles #ned the piemaker

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maccreadysbaby · 7 months

Note

can you torture tim drake for me please

… I have the ability, yes.

(I’m using the most popular age canon stuff to say that Tim is about 18 in this and Damian is robin, so, like 12 or 13. Which means Jason is around 21, and Dicks, like, 26? I’ve just integrated the Joker Jr thing into Tim’s time as robin for this piece.)

TW: major angst. vomiting. gore. mention of firearms. very vivid nightmare about m!rder.

Joker Jr.

(aka me forcing jason and tim to bond)

Tim was standing in a nasty, old, dark bathroom. He didn’t know why.

The whole thing was grey and smelled really moldy. The bathtub to his left was cracked, and the faucet looked like it’d fall off if he so much as breathed in its direction. The fabric curtain was laying in the floor, but the plastic one that stayed behind it was still hanging, covered with splotches of dark mold. The toilet was next to the tub, and the nasty yellowing tiles were cracking and broken near the base. The actual porcelain bowl was cracking as well. There was no water in it, but there was a line inside that indicated there once had been. The entire bowl was discolored like the floor tiles.

Tim was staring down into a nasty old sink, gripping the sides like there wasn’t probably four billion germs there. (There most definitely was.) He could hear the pipes beneath the basin dripping every once in a while.

He caught sight of his own feet — he was wearing sleek dress shoes. As his eyes took in his own appearance, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him.

The dress shoes were paired with a plum purple suit, a green undershirt and a plum tie. All ironed and sleeked to perfection. Despite how dim the bathroom was, he could see the colors perfectly.

The bathroom got way stuffier. It felt like he was trying to breathe on top of Mount Everest — he was pulling in as much air as he could but it wasn’t doing anything. He tugged at his collar and tie with a trembling hand, and when it didn’t come loose, brought up another trembling hand. He wasn’t doing this, not again.

As fiddling with the tie and collar wasn’t working very well, he glanced up into the shattered mirror to get a better look so he could get this freaking thing off of him. So he could breathe.

His breathing promptly stopped.

Staring back at him was a contorted version of himself — not younger, like the had been the first time — but himself now. His face was painted a flaky white, with a familiar red around the mouth. His hair was slicked backwards, and green, not black. And his lips… they were pinned up into the most sinister, twisted smile. He wasn’t smiling. He even touched his face, he wasn’t smiling, but he was smiling in the mirror. Tim still hadn’t taken another breath.

“Hahahahahahahaha!”

Tim’s eyes shot to the closed door to his right, and the shrill, maniacal sound from the other side made him want to cry. He might’ve, if he could breathe. Which he still couldn’t.

“Hahahahaha!”

The sound was coming from behind him now. From what, the bathtub drain?

“Hahahahaha!”

He spun in circles. It was coming from everywhere. From the drains, the door, the broken vent on the ceiling, the faucets, the cracks in the walls, somewhere deep inside his own head.

His surroundings fizzled away into nothing more than a grey dust, replaced by a massive concrete room. The laughing stopped. Tim took a breath. Then he remembered he was still wearing the suit.

He did a three-sixty. There was a figure standing on the other end, and a bittersweet relief washed over him.

“Jason!” He exclaimed. Jason turned. He was in his full Red Hood get up. Tim staggered forward, toward his brother, tugging at the collar and tie that wouldn’t give. “Jason, help me. Get me out of this, please…”

Jason stepped forward, as if he considered helping, but stopped short when Tim felt a presence behind him. A hand found its way to his left palm, and it put something cold in it. “You know what to do. Heeheehee.”

Tim went ramrod stiff when he saw the gun shining in his hand.

“Heeheehee,”

When he looked up, they were all lined up next to Jason. Bruce, Dick, and even Damian, all suited up as Batman, Nightwing, and Robin. They were all staring at him strangely. Tim felt like he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore as he silently walked forward and held up the firearm to aim right at Bruce’s head.

He was screaming. Or he was trying to, at least, but sounds still wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He felt his eyes burn until they spilled over, the tears falling onto the concrete with cloudy white face paint mixed in. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak.

The Joker’s hand grabbed his own from somewhere behind him, assisting Tim by helping him squeeze the trigger.

BANG!

Thud.

The Joker carefully guided him down the line.

BANG!

Thud.

BANG!

Thud.

BANG!

Thud.

Tim really was crying now. Sobbing really, with snot and everything, but he still couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. The Joker wiggled the gun out of the boy’s tense hand, rubbing a hand up and down the boy’s back tentatively.

“Good job,” He murmured sinisterly. Tim tried his best not to look at the pools of blood forming on the floor.

The Joker finally made his debut, sauntering in front of Tim with a massive, gut-churning smile on his face. He held the gun in one hand, caressing it carefully.

“Now that the big four are down for the count,” He chuckled maniacally. “Time for number five.”

Tim was staring down the barrel of the gun.

“Three-heehee!”

Tim thought he was gonna hurl.

“Two!”

He tried to move. He couldn’t. He really felt like he was gonna hurl.

“Who even counts to one anyways? Buh-bye!”

BANG!

Tim jerked back into the world of consciousness when a large clap of thunder melded with the sound of the handgun. He didn’t have time to get off the bed. He sat bolt-upright and tried to bring a hand to his mouth, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blood, the bangs, the fact that it was him behind the trigger… it was all too much. He hadn’t so much as got his feet on the floor before his body convulsed violently. He threw up all over the clean sheets and himself.

He was trembling, and crying, too, though he hadn’t considered that crying in a dream would mean he was actually crying. His breaths were forcing themselves in and out with a harsh violence.

The thunder cracked, and he almost threw up again.

He let his head fall down into his hands with a near-silent whine. He was in Wayne Manor, he reminded himself. The room was dark, but the bathroom light was on, shining on his queen bed and the desk to its left. The lightning kept illuminating the windows. He was in Wayne Manor. Bruce was in Wayne Manor. Damian was in Wayne Manor. They were all in Wayne Manor, alive. Dick was in Bludhaven. Jason was, well… wherever Jason went. They were alive.

And Tim was sitting in a puddle of vomit.

He exhaled shakily, glancing at the clock that sat on his bedside table. 4:31am.

Everyone was alive, he was alive, and he needed to clean this up before anyone saw.

He pushed himself off of the bed with wobbly legs, sniffing loudly as if he was demanding the tears to stop. It seemed to work. He turned on his lamp.

He made a task out of the sheets, mostly to distract himself. He pulled them off and folded them neatly as to contain whatever bile he could. There were no stains on the mattress. He chucked them in the laundry basket to be dealt with tomorrow.

Then he changed into more pajamas. Chucked the dirty ones into the basket, too.

Then he rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth without glancing in the mirror. He made sure to shove that stupid brush into every crevice he could find, and he didn’t stop until his gums were bleeding from the effort.

He could deal with this by himself. He’d always dealt with nightmares by himself. After all, he only had them when he was little — they came less frequently since moving into the Manor, but even when they made a debut, he never made a fuss about it. He hated when people fussed.

Just as he was grabbing a clean pair of sheets from his closet, there was a knock on the door that made him flinch.

“You’re not dying in there, are you?”

When the hell had Jason invaded the Manor?

For some reason, his voice made Tim want to cry again. “M’fine!” He squeaked. It didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

“Sure, sure. Because you’ve had a stable definition of that word in the past,”

Tim tossed the clean sheets at his bed. “You can go away now.”

“Not allowed to care about you anymore?”

“Not since you tried to kill me,” The words slip out before he can stop them. Really, he shouldn’t be holding that over Jason’s head anymore. They’d ended up at some kind of stalemate or another regarding that whole situation, but frankly, he was wondering how long it’d hold up.

After all, he’d just murdered Jason in his dream. Did that mean they were even now?

Hell, he hadn’t meant to think about that. The thunder cracked and he almost leaped out of his own skin.

“Are you sure you’re fine, squeaky-mcsqueakerton?”

He’d squeaked? God, he wanted to die.

“Yeah,” He replied, but it only came out as a whisper as he fumbled with the sheets. He wasn’t paying much attention and was pretty much just rolling them up more. “Yeah,” He repeated, louder.

He stood there for a solid thirty seconds trying to unravel those sheets, but they were being too stubborn. He felt the back of his eyes burning with frustration. The thunder clapped and he gave up on the sheets, deciding that sitting down in the floor was a better option.

CRACK!

He could’ve swore he smelled something metallic, like blood, and he could’ve swore the thunder sounded more like a gunshot than thunder. He heard a thud somewhere. He knew it was just in his mind. But did he?

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

CRACK!

Thud.

Heeheehee! Said something in the back of Tim’s head.

No. It was thunder.

CRACK!

Thud.

There was a gun in his hand and his dead family in front of him. Wasn’t he just in his room?

He was screaming again. Crying. But he wasn’t making any noise. He was in his bedroom and he knew that but he wasn’t actually in his bedroom because he was looking at his dead family and holding the gun-

“Jason, help me! Get me out of this! Please….” He shouted in his dream, just like he had the first time, but Red Hood was laying on the floor, lifeless. Why did he have to see it all again?

“What? Tim? Tim, get you out of what? Hey!”

Tim snapped back into reality when Jason slapped him in the face. Lightly, but hard enough to shake him. Jason was kneeling in front of him now, features hard and cold as always, but riddled with something else Tim couldn’t really place at the moment.

CRACK!

Thud.

“My dream, I… I can’t get out of it, I’m… I’m still in it-“ The thunder cracked again and he pressed his forehead between his knees. “Help me.”

“Touch something, Tim. Touch the floor or the bed or… something. Just touch something,” Jason’s somewhat distant voice echoed around in Tim’s head.

“It’s the thunder. I was fine but the thunder-“

“Just do what I say,”

Tim, indeed, did touch something. He reached for the closest and most available thing — Jason’s arm.

“Wh- okay. I guess that works…” He murmured. “You’re not in the dream anymore. You’re not. You’re awake.”

A moment of silence passed. “Open your eyes and look at me. Do you know where you are?”

Tim didn’t really get the memo about opening his eyes. “I… I’m… in my room.”

“In your room where?”

“In the Manor?”

“Yeah, the Manor,” Jason sucked in a breath, cursing lightly. Tim thought he heard him whisper ‘one hell of a dream’ but he didn’t really know.

“C’mon, read the posters on your wall. You can’t read if you’re in a dream.”

He didn’t really want to open his eyes. But he did.

He was sitting in the floor next to his bed. Crying, again, because life couldn’t just let him not humiliate himself in front of Jason.

Speaking of, Jason was still there, staring intently back at him. His hair was messy and bedraggled, the white tuft at the front hanging down toward his eyes. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, his typical sleeping attire. They usually spat insults at one another when they were that close together — fake ones or some with a little venom — but neither of them did. Jason just kinda watched him, which got weird after a moment.

He glanced over to the left, at the Scream poster on his wall. He could read it. He dissected every word and read them all one letter at a time like a dyslexic kindergartener. The words were all there.

The thunder cracked, and he jumped.

“It’s just a storm outside,” Jason reassured. “Nothing else. We can even go open your window if you want to feel the rain.”

Why was Tim getting the feeling this wasn’t the first time Jason had talked someone back into reality?

“I think…” Tim drew in a shaky breath, turning to wipe his face on his shoulder. “I think I’m here now. I’m sorry.”

Jason creased his brow. “Huh?”

Tim realized he still had a hold on Jason’s hoodie, so he released it. “For bothering you. Didn’t mean for you to hear me. You can leave, I’m fine.”

Something else flashed across Jason’s face, but he stood up anyway, offering Tim a hand. He had an entire courtroom case with a lawyer and jury in his head before he decided to take it.

He stood up and immediately sat on his uncovered mattress. His brother hovered awkwardly.

“Y’know… sometimes it helps me if I sleep somewhere else,” Jason admitted, averting Tim’s gaze. “I was gonna go downstairs after I checked on you anyways. If you want to come.”

Tim stared at him, taking in every glint in his eyes, every shift in his expression.

“Only if you promise not to maim me again,”

For a moment, Jason was taken aback, and he didn’t really know how to properly respond until Tim let the corner of his mouth twitch up.

Jason sighed. “Dick.”

“Wrong brother,”

“Piss off,”

(They slept in the den, and Tim didn’t dream again.)

#tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc robin #red hood #red robin #batfamily #batman #batfam

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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heartguy87 · 1 year

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Josh’s Heart: Part 1 - The Exam

[This is a short story that I’ve had on the go for a while now, working on it on and off when I felt inspired and I figured I should finally share it here. I purposely left it open-ended as I’ve got some ideas for where to take it next. Let me know what you think! (please be gentle - it’s my first story and my ego is fragile!)]

----

Josh sat nervously in the waiting room of the cardiologist’s office. His father had recently been diagnosed with a heart condition and the family doctor decided to send Josh for a series of tests on his heart.

As he sat there and looked around and saw another young man about his age - 18 years old or so. Pretty cute, Josh thought to himself, wondering what he was here for. Just as Josh looked over, the young man returned his glance, held it for a second, then looked back down at his magazine.

“Matthew Johnson?” the nurse called.

“Yes?” the young man replied.

“The doctor is ready for you now. Please follow me.”

He put down the magazine he had been reading, stood up, and walked toward the hallway off to the side of the reception desk where the nurse stood waiting. Following the nurse down the corridor to an exam room, he glanced back at Josh, still seated in the waiting room, with a slight smile.

Josh felt a stirring in his stomach but caught himself.

Probably just being friendly, he thought.

----

As the minutes passed, he became even more anxious and just wanted to get it over with. Not just because he was worried there was something wrong with his heart, but also because, ever since he was young, he’d always felt strange at doctor’s visits. As he got older, the vague sense of nervousness became a mix between embarrassment, anticipation, and arousal. At his last couple of yearly physicals, he’d tried so hard not to get an erection while the doctor examined him. Last time, despite his best efforts, it happened while the doctor listened to his chest. If the doctor couldn’t tell he was aroused from his quickening heartbeat, he could certainly tell from the visible wet spot forming on his white boxer briefs. “Why the fuck did I have to wear white boxers that day?” he thought to himself.

As if on cue, the same nurse as before appeared at the reception desk, clipboard in hand.

“Josh Richards?” she called.

Josh sat upright from slouching in his chair. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Could you please follow me? The doctor is ready to see you now.”

He got up from his chair and shuffled down the tiled hallway behind the nurse. She opened the door to a small room with a chair and a curtain – one door down from the one he’d seen the young man go into earlier.

“Good, now if you’ll please remove your clothes except your underwear and socks and put this on with the opening in the front,” she said, handing him a folded blue paper gown. “You can leave your clothes on the chair in the corner.”

Fuck, he thought. He was hoping he would just have to lift up his shirt and take a few deep breaths - not get fully undressed. A fresh wave of nervousness washed over him.

“Okay,” he gulped.

The nurse left the room and shut the door behind her.

Once she was gone, Josh sat down and slowly untied his shoes, took them off, and set them under the chair. Crossing his arms and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, he pulled it off and tossed it onto the chair. He stood up, unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned his jeans. With a sigh, he pulled down his jeans and stepped out of them – now covered only by his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and grey athletic socks.

Damn, it’s chilly in here, he thought. He unfolded the paper gown, struggling for a few seconds to figure out the right way to put it on. Eventually, he got it, put his arms through the holes, and pulled it over his shoulders. The gown hung open in front and went down just past the hem of his boxer briefs. Josh saw there were a couple of ties to keep it somewhat closed and quickly knotted them together.

There was a knock on the door. “How are you doing in there, Josh?”

Feeling more than a little silly in his flimsy paper gown, Josh opened the door to find the nurse standing there.

“All ready?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, please follow me across the hall.”

He stepped out into the cold hallway, following a couple of steps behind the nurse. Just as they reached the door of an exam room, Josh looked down the hall where a door had been left ajar.

Through the narrow opening, he caught a glimpse of the young man from before. He was reclined on an exercise bike of some kind, a dozen electrodes attached to his smooth chest with grey wires connecting to a monitor. He was peddling hard and his chest was shiny with perspiration. Beside him, a technician stood holding an ultrasound probe and pressed it into the left side of his chest as sweat dripped down the young man’s face and neck. His eyes met Josh’s through the crack in the door.

Josh stood transfixed for a moment. Then the door shut abruptly from the inside, cutting off the view.

“Josh?” the nurse called after him.

He realized he didn’t know how long he’d been staring, or what the nurse had said to him.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. I was just saying you can take a seat on the exam table and the doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

-----

Great, more waiting, he thought.

The paper of the exam table crinkled underneath his butt as he shifted his weight. He glanced around the exam room. On the counter, there was laid out a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope with a shiny metal chest piece. He gulped again nervously, as he knew these instruments would be used on him shortly. Over in the corner, a metal cart holding an EKG machine could be seen, its wires all coiled up. A box containing packages of electrodes sat on the bottom shelf. He’d seen machines like that on TV of course and wondered if it was a test he’d be subjected to today.

But before Josh could think about it too much, the doorknob turned, and in walked the doctor.

“Hiya Josh, I’m Dr. Smith. How are you doing today?” he asked

The doctor was much younger than Josh was expecting. He looked like he was maybe in his late 20s. He had dark hair, green eyes, and a small amount of stubble covering his jaw. Beneath his white doctor’s coat he wore a light blue collared shirt, the top button undone. A few dark chest hairs were visible in the V of his shirt, hinting at a more substantial patch of chest hair underneath.

“I’m good,” Josh replied nervously.

“That’s great to hear.” Dr. Smith flipped open a folder he’d been holding. “I see in your file that there’s a family history of heart conditions and you’re here to get checked out, is that right?”

“Yeah, my dad has a heart condition...I forget what it’s called...and he had surgery a while ago. The doctor said our family should all get checked to make sure we don’t have the same condition.”

“Hmm, well you can’t be too careful,” Dr. Smith replied. “Have you experienced any chest pain? Any symptoms I should know about before we get started?”

The doctor turned to the desk behind him and picked up the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. He draped the stethoscope around his neck and turned back to Josh. “All right, I’m going to take your blood pressure now, Josh. Please relax your arm as much as possible.”

He ripped the velcro open and slid the cuff onto Josh’s right arm above the elbow. After cinching it snugly around his arm, the doctor refastened the velcro. Taking the stethoscope from around his neck, he placed the earpieces in his ears and slid the chest piece just underneath the cuff on the inside of the young man’s elbow. Squeezing the bulb several times, he inflated the cuff tighter until the brachial pulse was no longer audible, and noted the reading on the gauge. After a couple of seconds, he slowly released the air to deflate the cuff until he could once more hear Josh’s pulse.

“110/70. That’s good.”

-------

“Okay Josh, you can lie back on the table now.”

The doctor raised an extension at the end of the table and locked it in place. “There, that’s better for a tall guy like you,” he said. He switched on an overhead light.

“I’m also going to have you open up your gown so I can take a look at your chest if that’s all right.”

The moment he’d been dreading. “Okay,” Josh replied. He sat up, and fumbled with the strings on the front of the gown, pulling the end of the knot to untie it. The doctor reached over and pulled both sides of the gown open, exposing Josh’s chest.

Josh inhaled nervously. He had always felt weird taking his shirt off in front of others. This made him more nervous because he knew his bare chest would be the focal point for the next couple of hours.

His chest was mostly smooth, milky white skin - hadn’t seen much sun in a while. He had some muscle tone, but not much. On top of his slightly defined pecs, a few hairs sprouted around his nickel-sized pinkish-brown nipples which had become semi-erect from the cool air in the room.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Smith said reassuringly, sensing Josh’s trepidation. “I’m just going to take a look at your chest, and later on listen to a few spots.”

The doctor began palpating near Josh’s collarbone, pressing his fingers lightly into the young man’s pale skin, which had begun to show goosebumps.

The doctor took the stethoscope from around his neck and placed the earpieces in his ears. “Sorry, this may be a bit cold.”

Josh shuddered as the metal chest piece made contact with the skin, near the top of his left pec. Fucking right it’s cold, he thought. The doctor held it there momentarily, listening intently. He slid the chest piece down an inch or so and repeated. He then moved the stethoscope to listen to the mitral valve - his thumb grazing Josh’s left nipple as he positioned the stethoscope. Josh shivered from the sensation, but he would’ve been lying if he said it hadn’t excited him just a little bit. He wondered if the doctor had noticed his reaction.

“He’s sure taking his time, '' Josh thought to himself as the doctor slowly inched the diaphragm of the stethoscope between different points on Josh’s chest, before listening to each spot again, this time with the stethoscope’s bell. This part of the exam lasted nearly ten minutes.

“All right Josh, can you please roll onto your left side, arm behind your head?”

Josh did as he was told, shifting onto his left side. The gown fell open as he turned over, revealing his armpit as slightly damp with sweat. The doctor’s arm came around from behind Josh to place the stethoscope over his mitral valve.

Okay good, you can lie on your back again. Dr. Smith’s hand moved toward the waistband of Josh’s boxer shorts. “Just going to pull these down slightly so I can listen to your femoral pulse.” Josh breathed in sharply and the doctor’s fingers hooked the elastic waistband and pulled them partway down, exposing his pubic region which was covered in dark curly hair. Josh was now incredibly aware of his semi-hard cock throbbing slightly underneath a thin layer of material.

----

“All right, Josh. We’re going to do an EKG now.”

Josh watched as Dr. Smith walked over to the corner of the room where the machine sat on its cart and wheeled it over beside the exam table. The doctor plugged the power cord into a nearby outlet and then pressed a green power button. He uncoiled the bundle of grey wires and laid them over the machine. From a box underneath the machine, he took an alcohol wipe.

“I’m just going to clean off a few spots on your chest so the electrodes make good contact,” he explained as he opened the gown completely and touched the moistened wipe to the young man’s chest. Josh shivered from the cool sensation of the alcohol as it evaporated.

Reaching into another box, the doctor pulled out a sheet of round electrodes. Standing beside the exam table, he began pressing his fingers into Josh’s rib cage to locate where to position the electrodes. He peeled the electrodes – made of foam, with a wet gel in the center – from their paper backing and placed them on Josh’s chest: one on his right pec, one on his left pec, several in a row below his left pec around to his left side almost under his arm. Hope they don’t hurt too much when they get taken off, thought Josh.

The doctor untangled the grey wires and attached the leads to the electrodes. “Okay Josh, now if you can just lie still for a minute while I take a reading.”

Josh did as he was told, breathing in and out slowly, trying not to let his quickened heart rate betray how aroused he was by how much attention was being paid to his heart. The doctor pressed the start button on the machine, which caused it to begin spitting out a print-out tracing of Josh’s heart rhythms.

------

“All right Josh, there’s one more test I’d like to do today and that’s an echocardiogram - an ultrasound of your heart. If you will just follow me down the hall, we’ll get that done, and then you’ll be all done for today.”

Josh sat up on the table, tied his gown, and stepped down onto the floor.

Dr. Smith opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Josh followed behind him, holding his gown closed with one hand.

As they stepped out of the exam room, the other young man from before walked past them toward the reception desk. His face still had a hint of redness, and Josh could smell the fresh sweat scent coming off him as he passed. As they made eye contact, Josh felt a twinge in his young cock beneath his boxer shorts.

----

The doctor opened a door to another exam room and motioned Josh inside. The lights were dimmed but an adjustable exam table could be seen, with an ultrasound machine next to it, its monitor emitting a blue glow. The handsome technician from before entered the room.

“Lie down on the table on your side facing towards the machine please,” the technician said.

Josh did this. The technician pulled the ties of Josh’s gown and opened it, exposing his chest once more.

He took a squeeze bottle of ultrasound gel. “This is going to be cold.”

He popped the lid open and squeezed out a stream of transparent blue gel. Josh took a sharp breath in as the freezing cold gel made contact with his chest.

The technician pushed the transducer against Josh’s chest wall, moving it back and forth while he watched the monitor to get the best image.

The doctor put the earpieces of his stethoscope in and pressed the chest piece against Josh’s chest below his left nipple. Josh could feel his heartbeat quicken. His semi-erect cock pulsated in his underwear, barely covered by the gown. Pre-cum soaked through the fabric and betrayed his arousal.

Dr. Smith gave the technician a knowing glance. This young man was going to be a perfect candidate for their research study.

—--

Once the exam was over, the tech handed Josh a small towel to clean himself off with and began removing the electrodes from his chest.

“Well Josh, your heart appears to be in relatively good shape, however, we did observe an interesting anomaly that I’d like to look into further.”

“Fuck,” Josh thought, “I knew it. I’m gonna end up having the same heart condition as Dad.”

The doctor detected Josh’s worried expression and quickly added, “Oh it’s nothing to be overly concerned about. In fact, it’s more of a scientific curiosity than anything.”

“Right,” Josh thought to himself, “like that makes me feel any better…”

He sat up from the exam table as Dr. Smith pulled a chair over and sat down facing him.

“Josh, I’m currently running a research study with the university that focuses on measuring cardiovascular and other physiological responses to various sexual stimuli. Judging by your rather noticeable bodily ‘response’ during the echocardiogram test, I think you’re a perfect candidate to participate as a research subject. What do you think? Interested in participating?”

Josh stared blankly at the doctor for a second. It was the weirdest-sounding research study he’d ever heard of, and his gut reaction was to tell him “absolutely not!”

“Oh, I should also mention that research subjects will be compensated for their participation. $500 per session, each of which lasts about 4 hours. How does that sound?”

“I’m gonna regret this,” Josh thought. But the money was too tempting to pass up. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Dr. Smith did his best to disguise his excitement at the prospect of being able to study this handsome young man and subject him to all the experimental procedures he had planned.

“Excellent. Well, you can go and get dressed now. I’ll meet you out by reception and have you sign some forms and send you home with some more information about the study and instructions for the first session so you know what to expect.”

—-

Josh went back to the changing room, took his clothes from a bin, and got dressed. He walked back down the hall toward the reception desk where Dr. Smith was already waiting, smiling warmly. He explained that Josh just needed to sign a standard consent form and then he’d be officially enrolled in the study. Josh skimmed the form quickly and signed his name in the bottom right corner.

“Perfect,” Dr. Smith said. “Welcome aboard our research study. Your first session is scheduled for this Saturday at 11 am. Make sure you read and follow the instructions in the information package thoroughly before your session. Specifically, you are not to engage in any sexual activity, including masturbation in the 48 hours before the test. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Goddamnit,” Josh thought, “it’s gonna be torture not jerking off for two days…”

“Yes, I can do that,” he said quietly, his face slightly red from embarrassment at talking about this stuff. He hoped none of the other handful of people in the waiting room overheard their conversation.

“Okay, well I’ll let you be on your way then,” Dr. Smith said. “See you this Saturday.”

As Josh walked out the door and left the clinic, his feeling of embarrassment was slowly replaced with growing anticipation and titillation as he began to imagine what lay in store for him when he returned that weekend.

#cardiophile #medfet #gay #young #man #ekg #exam

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jungle-angel · 1 year

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A Selkie in the Sunshine State: Part 1 (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: When you were young, you had heard tales of the seal people. Many thought you were completely crazy, until you met one for yourself. You just didn’t know how much it would change your life for the better.

Tagging: @lt-bradshaw I know I’ve gotta do a taglist but I’m completely inept with technology and with this hellsite in general (lol).

Key West, Florida

You stepped out into the bright Florida sunshine, feeling so much more at ease now that you had all the time in the world to yourself. Sunshine, sunscreen and sandals....you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Moving to Key West had been the best decision you had ever made, getting away from the cold winters in your hometown and far, far away from the things that bothered you day in and day out. Your health drastically improved with the tropical sunshine, your eating habits had gotten better and you could walk to and from work with no problem. Hell, you were finally able to wear all those pretty clothes you loved that would have normally had to be packed away during the winter.....but here, you could finally be yourself. Your wonderful, free, self.

Down to the white, powdery sand beach you went from your little cottage, the turquoise and peach pink shuttered little structure facing part of the street with its little white picket fence and porch while the back faced the ocean. The turquoise and teal water gently pulled in and out off the beach, the smell of salt and sunshine tied together in the breeze. Today was sure to be perfect. You had a feeling that you just knew that everything about today would be perfect.

All along the shores you went, gathering shells and sand dollars, the water washing over your feet as you stepped over a small pile of seaweed. Your eyes suddenly fell to a yellow-green piece of something in the washed up weeds, something plastic with thin threads that formed a diamond lattice.....part of a ripped up drag-net.

It wasn’t uncommon that you found something like that. Every now and again, you clipped up those pieces along with empty soda can rings to make sure no sea critters became their unfortunate victims. Yet something else caught your attention from further down the beach, something that sounded like crying.

You rushed to the commotion, following the noise until it grew louder and louder when you suddenly laid eyes on what was making the noise.

“Oh buddy, I’m so sorry, c’mere, you’re ok.”

It was a little grey monk seal with thready little rings of white around its eyes. The poor little thing bawled and cried, tangled in the drag-net that had washed it up on shore, the seaweed hanging from it like clumps of dark green hair. You clipped away at the tough, plasticky threads with the Swiss army knife you kept in your pocket, trying painfully hard not to hurt the little guy who squirmed and wriggled.

“Ok, ok, you’re almost out,” you cooed to the seal.

No sooner did you cut the last plastic thread that something frightening and strange unfolded right before your very eyes. The seal’s skin seemed to drop away like wet cloth as flashes of a pale, human form were revealed. The seal skin hung from one shoulder, a wet, bedraggled mess as the figure kept his hands planted in the dirt, coughing and spitting up water. Your breath stilled as you reached out your hand to touch his well-muscled back, your movement slow and tentative, fearing that when he turned around, he’d instead be some hoary, razor-toothed horror of the deep.

Your hand had barely touched him when he let out a loud gasp, both of you startled by it all. You instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth, in complete disbelief at the man who faced you. He wasn’t some terrifying humanoid from the darkest depths of the ocean. His eyes were of the deepest cerulean blue, the features in his face soft and shy looking. His chin and pencil thin lips wobbled a little, from what, you had no idea. His hair was a soft, dark blonde that grew lighter in the midday sunshine while perched on his nose was a pair of wire-rimmed aviator glasses......birth control goggles as the airmen from Pensacola would call them.

“I.....you.....what are you?” you stammered.

“Miss please I.....I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just.....”

You were still tentative to even speak as the grey seal skin fell from his shoulder. The only noise you could remotely hear was the gentle slapping of water. “No, I should be the one who’s sorry,” you told him. “I didn’t....I didn’t know.”

The young man cleared his throat, the sunlight making his unusually pale skin a near blinding white. “I um....I would stand up but.....”

“You have a cut somewhere?” you asked.

“No it’s.....it’s a little more complicated than that Miss uh.....”

“(Y/n),” you answered. “My name is (Y/n). You?”

“Bob,” he answered.

“Bob?” you said, chuckling a little. “I’ve never heard of a selkie named Bob before.”

Bob’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening like a guppy gasping for air. “How do you....?”

“I read alot,” you admitted. “C’mere, I’ll help you up.”

“Oh (y/n), please, I don’t think you want to do that,” he said, turning bright red.

“And why not?”

“I’m.....I’m naked.”

You blushed a little too, a snicker escaping your nostrils. It wouldn’t have been the first time you saw a man naked nor would it be the last time. You took his hands in yours, instantly aware of a strange, warm sensation rippling through you. Not a bad one, but something warm and comforting.....just like home.

“How about this,” you said, biting your lip and trying not to cast your eyes downward. “I have plenty of clothes back at the house. You can borrow them until we can get you some new ones.”

“Thank you,” Bob chuckled.

He picked up his seal skin, shaking the sand off its damp surface before he wrapped part of it around his waist and followed you back up to the cottage.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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veeples · 1 year

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message received tuesday at 1:41 am

✦ Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

✦ Pairing: Specialist Agent Mason/Faustus Valentine

✦ Word Count: 737

✦ Warnings: Slightly suggestive language. But c'mon.

✦ Notes: 72 hours remain to Book Three. :)

✦✦✦✦✦

Message received Tuesday at 1:41 am.

“Voicemail, huh? Really? I’m a little surprised, to be honest. You’re good at your job, better than what all that sulking lets on. Guess your phone must be dead or something.

[read on ao3]

Well, that’s– That’s good, actually. I’m relieved. This isn’t an emergency or anything. No sewer monster jumping out of the toilet while I’m trying to piss. [laugh] Hey, are sewer monsters real? Fuck, I hope not. It took like three washes to get the stink of stale muck and human waste out of my damn jacket. No way I’m shimmying my ass down a manhole again.

Don’t laugh at that. It’s not even that– [laugh] I can hear the way you would, you know. Even if you barely fucking laugh, I can hear it so clearly in my head. Deep, gravelly. Rough, but never loud. Growling, like distant thunder. It’s nice.”

[pause]

“Okay, so I don’t have a real reason I’m calling you.

It’s late, I really should be sleeping – Jesus, I can’t remember when I’ve had a decent night’s rest. Between the Agency and the music store yanking me around I’m so fucking spent I barely have energy to choke down cold pizza, but I still can’t sleep. Remember that night we spent on the roof? It’s still like that. The nightmares, I mean. Almost every night.

It’s stupid, isn’t it? We caught Murphy. He’s in the Agency’s fucked up little mind prison. I shouldn’t be this piss scared. Months later and still it’s like I’m waiting for something to be waiting for me in the shadows. It’s just…”

[sigh]

“Hard to forget. I guess. Nothing looks the same anymore. Nothing feels the same. The veil’s been lifted, the rose colored glasses are off. The world’s at a permanent tilt.

Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so– whatever. Just a lot of shit crowding up my thoughts.

You know, there must be a leak from the upstairs unit. It’s soaking into my bathroom ceiling. One big, ugly water stain growing in the corner that drips grey water every time Mr. Yu runs water up there. It’s got this dark center, like a rotten, moldy heart. I watch it sometimes when I’m shaving or brushing my teeth. I think I see it grow. It moves like a wave. Like a pulse? Spreading its fingers across the ceiling.

It never drips long enough for me to ever remember to call the office to get it looked at. All I do is kick an old mop bucket under the center to catch the water because the dripping drives me fucking nuts.

Eh, it’s fine. Probably. I’m not too hung up on it. If getting a dirty blood transfusion and having my throat ripped open in a rusty warehouse didn’t kill me, I’m sure a little bit of black mold won’t.”

[pause]

“Fuck it.

I called because it’s been too damn long since I’ve seen you, Mason.

What’s it been, a month? It feels longer than that. I keep thinking– remembering the last time we got to touch each other. The way your eyes look in shadow, hard and sharp, like flint. How you’re a little soft in the stomach.

Carnival, right? Haunted house. Dusty corner, stale smell of popcorn, faint stink of vomit– yeah, you remember. I got a little more than fake ass cobwebs stuck in my hair because you didn’t give me enough warning, asshole.”

[laugh]

“Goddamn. What a mess. Like two stupid teenagers.

You know what I miss? The smell of your cigarettes. They don’t carry them in store. Not any in Wayhaven, at least. I must have gone through all of ‘em. Gas station, grocery store. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. It’s not even a particularly nice smelling cigarette. Little too woody for my taste. Almost burnt. But it’s you.

One day I’m going up to that stupid warehouse. Fuck the Agency. Fuck their paperwork. Fuck the music store too. I miss you. I miss how warm you are under my hands. I miss the scratch of your stubble on my thigh. I miss how sweetly sharp my name sounds in your mouth.

Have you thought of me? I hope you have. I hope you miss the way I say your name too.

See you soon, sunshine.”

End of message. To erase this message, press one. To save this message, press two. To replay this message, press three.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #veep writing #specialist agent mason #oc: faustus valentine #ship: fauson #goodbye everyone! i'll remember you all in therapy!#[i do have therapy on release day btw. it's not gonna fix me.]

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nqds · 3 months

Note

Eleven

Aurelia

“Get up.”

Caspar had been sprawled on the floor passed out for the past two days. Amithi and I had a serious talk about how much sleep tonic she had given him. He looked ragged, his hair sticking out in places I didn’t even think humanly possible. His clothes wrinkled and stained from the floor in the room, not bed – another chat, with Beatrice. He looked up at me squinting. “What?” “I said, get up. Do you want to come outside or not? Besides you need a wash. Desperately.” I say wrinkling my nose. “Well, I’m sorry my looks offend you; I clearly chose to be knocked out for two days.” He rolled his eyes and groaned as he rose from the floor. I step aside and let him through the door. The sun light hits me, peeking through the grey clouds. The first bit of sun in days, a contrast to the dark clouds on the horizon. “Congrats Hansley, your first day on deck, and you’ve already got some sun. Maybe you should take me up on that offer to wash?” He sneers at me and stomps off to what I think he assumes is the small washroom the ship has, he’ll be sorely mistaken when he enters the room to Beatrice, Linette and Genevieve playing cards, I never really interrupt them, when they play, they get so angry. Blaire appears beside me. “Should we warn him?” “No way, I want to see how this plays out.” She grins. “Where does he think he’s going?” “The washroom.” “Ha! Oh boy this is going to be so funny!”

We stand there in quiet hysterics; the rest of the crew turn to watch where Caspar is walking. Grins, and smothered laughs rise up. This isn’t going to end well. I start to follow him as opens the door walks inside promptly shutting it behind him.

“He didn’t even knock!” Amithi’s laugh rings out.

Silence.

Then a yell. A loud crash. Several more. The door swings open nearly flying off its hinges. Caspar tumbles out of the room, cursing soundly. “Do that again and you’ll learn exactly why we were wagering our knives.” Was all Beatrice said before slamming the door. “The washroom is next to yours.” I say offering my hand to Caspar. He bats it away and rises on his own. “Bitch.” He stalks off toward the edge of the deck, scowling at the stifled laughter coming from everyone. “That might be true. But the washroom is still next to your room.” I call out.

The small amount of sunshine that had shown itself had completely disappeared by the time Caspar had stopped brooding and washed himself, he now leant against his door watching. The dark clouds had faded, bringing in a mild wind and heavy downpour of rain. Iris moved from where she was standing under cover, she whispered something into Blaire’s ears before Blaire nodded and ran off giggling. I smile, that is why I’m doing this. So everyone can do that so children can run in the streets playing instead of worrying they’ll be caught and punished by the Royal Guard. I – we, are doing this for them, for the people of Nystra not just our own revenge, for peace.

Blaire ran back out from wherever she went carrying a flute. She looks over to Iris and starts playing a tune. I recognise it – Dabbler’s Moon, Blaire’s favourite – the fast-paced song starts up as Iris and Blaire walk out into the rain. Slowly one by one, all the girls joined in, leaving only me and Caspar dry and out of the rain standing awkwardly next to each other. Until I catch Blaire and Naomi’s eye. They start walking over predatory grins splayed across their faces as the drag me into the rain. The first cold drops hit my face providing cool relief and a temporary buffer between me and Caspar. The girls drag me into the group swaying and dancing to Blaire’s flute. I move along with them giving into the music and rain, calm yet paced. Until Iris splashes me. Then it’s just war. We shriek and laugh moving around the ship, hiding from each other seeing who can get the best splashes in.

Eventually I’ve had enough and excuse myself from the group. “I’m going to dry off.” I call out to the girls and make my way over to my cabin. Grabbing a towel off a hook I dry myself off as best I can before peeling the wet clothes away from my skin. Slipping into dry shirt and pants. The soft clothes rub against my skin. Linette did well with this set of clothes. She sews well, often joining the seamstress in town when she has free time. Her skill never goes to waste. I put my coat on and walk back outside most of the girls had finished playing around and had gathered underneath the ledge huddled together for warmth. In the distance the looming mountain of the Underlands was awaiting us, land, maybe not even a day away. “Girls!” I call out in Nystrin, “Time to plan.” Heads fly in my direction at the use of Nystrin. “Can he, you know, understand us?” Harper asked nodding to Caspar, who had moved as far away as he could while still trying to stay dry. “Let’s check then.” Blaire grinned turning to Caspar. “Hey, Caspar you’re a nice lacya pancyal” She chirped in a bright tone not giving away the insult she just said. Caspar seemed confused. “Thank you?” “See,” Blaire turned back to me “He can’t understand us.” I nod and inform everyone that the planning starts as soon as they change out of their wet clothes. They dispersed quickly and I walk over to Caspar. “Hey.” “What do you want?” His words were crisp, sharp. “To inform you that we are approaching land soon.” “And?” “That means you’re going to be tied up.” “Right my luxury time on this boat is over. Great” He rolled his eyes. We stood in silence for a moment before he suddenly turned on me. “What is going to happen to when this whole thing blows over?” “What do you mean?” “Well, when you either die because of my father or somehow manage to obtain magic to prove you’re the heir. Which by the way if you really are the heir, you shouldn’t have brought that necklace with you. It completely contradicts your claim. Anyone could show up and claim the throne if they had that necklace. Hell, even I could do it if I wanted. But no, you stole that necklace and me, might I add. What happens at the end? Do you kill me? Give me back to my father? What?” I smile softly “You’ll have to see.” I turn and walk towards my now full room of waiting girls. “And the necklace,” I say stopping once speaking over my shoulder. “Is merely for sentiment.” I swing the door shut and look up to the room of smiling girls, in Nystrin I say, “Let’s send that bitch of a king a message.”

______________________

We docked early the next morning. The huge trees greeting us at the edge of the sand. The rich deep brown soaring into the sky, topped by glistening leaves covered in dew. The forest was green, the ground covered soft moss and grass, the dew sticking to our shoes and leaving prints as we walked. Occasionally we would stop for Amithi to collect samples for her healing, spiderwebs hung between trees like an invisible string with drops of water clinging to it, glittering in the early sun. Caspar was grunting, we had tied him up, with rope making sure to keep anything sharp away from him. Though he wouldn’t be stupid enough to free himself, we were his only way out of here. The serene forest welcomed us, autumn was in full swing now, but this forest was frozen in a permanent spring. The Underlands’ Queen must have influence over the forest. Her gift must be earth.

The forest rarely changed as we moved through it, quiet but not at the same time. A light breeze filled the clearing we had stopped in to have a rest. A brief respite from the humid air. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I plopped down on a log next to Iris. She turned to me, “How much longer do we have to walk? I’m pretty sure the bottom half of my body is numb.” I look around the clearing to the rest of us sprawled out, at the tired looks my friends were giving me. “We walk for a bit more. I know.” I say cutting of protests, “I’m tired too, but we need to get as much of a head start as we can on the royals.”

“How do you know they are coming?” Caspar called out, he was resting under a tree, his brown hair sticking to his face wet with his sweat. “I saw their ship a few days ago. But while we got rain and a bit of wind they got the brunt of the storm, so they’re still a bit behind.” That was a piece of information I had kept to myself for the past days, I didn’t want the others worrying and regretting their decision to come. From the annoyed looks I was getting; it probably wasn’t the best choice.

“Aur we’re tired, and from that very vital piece of information you kept from us, we’ve still got a lead on them let’s just stay here. Just for the night.” Linette said from her seat in the tree, that tone indicated that there would be a very stern talk about not telling them about it. Definitely not the best choice then. “What are your names?” Caspar said suddenly. We all turned on him. “What do you mean?” “Well, I know your name, but are everyone else’s?” “You haven’t picked up any names this past week? While we were all stuck on a ship together? Not even me. You didn’t even hear me calling them their real names?” “No, your crew thought it would be better to use your code names, quite ridiculous really. ‘Hey Scorpion, hi Viper.’” My eyebrows shoot up, and a laugh bubbles out of me. “You guys managed to go a whole week without giving your names out? And you did it using your code names?” I laugh again, most of the girls can’t stand being called their code name for more than one day, let alone a whole week. “Impressive.” I say, “As for our names you’ll have to learn them yourself Prince.”

~~~~~~~~~

thats 11 chapters down so far - 10 to go - (at least to where im up to)

this is so funny like

i love beatrice tho

but your writing is 🔛🔝

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musicprincess1990 · 1 year

Note

Sherlolly trope duos: 2&15 please ☺️?

2: Bad day turned good; 15: Flatmates. Taken from this list, prompts are closed for the time being.

Technically, this is a pairing I’ve done before, but since you’re one of my most devoted readers, I’m just gonna do it again. 😁 Read the first one here, and hope you like this second one too!

For some context, the setting is just after The Empty Hearse, and Tom is not in the picture. Nobody misses him. 😉

~*~

Quiet Strength

The door slammed with greater than usual force, the sound of which dragged Sherlock out of his mind palace, where he’d been sorting through and deleting files on his latest case. Thunderous footsteps on the stairs soon followed, and he braced himself for a prospective client, or perhaps a former client who had been dissatisfied with the results of Sherlock’s efforts. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time. But as the figure trudged into view, he was surprised to see…

“Molly?”

She ignored him, continuing up the next flight of stairs to her room. Sherlock might have rolled his eyes at her theatrics and gone back into his mind palace, had he not caught a glimpse of her face just before she turned away from him.

She’d been crying.

For some reason, that bothered him. He couldn’t account for it, which bothered him even more. It wasn’t difficult to deduce that she’d had a rubbish day, perhaps an unpleasant interaction with one of her colleagues, or a challenging post-mortem with an uncertain cause of death. There was also the possibility that it was related to her love life, or lack thereof. As far as he could see, she hadn’t had any romantic paramours since the infamous “Jim from IT.”

Sherlock was relieved, to be honest. Molly was more clear-headed, and more accommodating, when she had no dates or boyfriends. Nevertheless, it always upset Molly, who wanted very much not to be alone. He could understand that, and though he had no place for romance in his life, he admittedly did prefer to have people around him, especially at home. It was why he’d offered her John’s old room in the first place. 221B was entirely too quiet with only himself and Mrs. Hudson, who was often gadding about with Mrs. Turner, or with this week’s lover, or simply insensible due to her “herbal soothers.” He needed a companion, a friend, someone to fill the silence, and Molly was the only person besides John who fit the bill. With John soon to be married, he was no longer an option. So, he offered a key and a ridiculously low rent price, and she moved in a week later.

Three months had gone by since then, and his friendship with Molly had deepened. He had always trusted her, as he’d told her himself, but now he felt more confident in calling her his friend—a fact which he did not take for granted, as he had so few.

However, that did not explain why seeing her cry made him feel as though someone had kicked him in the ribs.

He didn’t like this feeling, and in spite of his attempts to relieve or ignore it, it persisted. Well, there was only one thing to do: find out why Molly was upset, and help her to be not upset. Not really his area, but the alternative was distraction and discomfort, and he was not about to give in to either of those.

Sherlock stood and made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on, washing out a pair of cups while he waited for it to boil. He smiled to himself as he imagined the look of complete shock that John would be wearing if he could see him. Knowing Molly’s preferences, he prepared a simple herbal peppermint with sugar, and an earl grey for himself, then made his way upstairs with both cups.

Using his elbow, he knocked on the door. “Molly?” Silence. Not entirely unexpected. “I have tea,” he told her, and then he heard her soft footfalls inside the room. He stepped back a bit, and she opened the door. The rib-kick sensation doubled upon seeing she’d been crying even more. Sherlock held out the peppermint, and she took it with a frown.

“Why are you giving me tea?” she asked, her voice timid and broken.

“Because you’re upset,” he answered.

Molly blinked slowly. “Oh… well… thank you, that’s nice of you.” She gave him the least convincing smile Sherlock had ever seen, then moved to close the door.

Thinking quickly, he placed his hand flat against it. Her eyes flashed with confusion and anxiety, and he felt another imaginary kick to his ribs. “I…” he hesitated, wondering why in God’s name his pulse was elevated. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to continue, “I don’t like that you’re upset.”

Her expression softened, and she stared openly at him. “You… don’t?”

Sherlock bristled. “Of course not, Molly, did you honestly think I would?”

“NO!” she blurted out, then winced at her volume. “Sorry, no, I just… I didn’t think you’d care one way or the other.”

That, he had to admit, stung quite a lot. “I do care, Molly. You’re my friend.”

Molly smiled again, this time sincerely. “That’s good to hear.”

For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, neither of them quite sure how to proceed. Finally, Sherlock asked tentatively, “Would you like to… talk? About why you’re upset?”

After a few seconds’ hesitation, Molly nodded, and the two of them shuffled downstairs into the sitting room, he in his usual chair, she occupying the chair he’d always thought of as John’s. It didn’t… bother him, precisely, seeing her sit there, but for some reason, it didn’t seem right to him. Something to think about at a later date, he decided.

Molly took a sip of her tea before she spoke. “I was called into a disciplinary meeting today. Mike and his superiors finally cottoned onto the fact that I helped you face your death. I don’t blame you,” she hurriedly went on, “and I don’t regret helping you, not in the least. But it’s… it’s not good. I’m on a forced leave of absence for the next two weeks while they determine the best course of action… and being sacked is not completely off the table.”

Sherlock went perfectly still, even held his breath. Of all the possibilities he’d considered, that had not been among them. The idea that Molly might face consequences for her actions hadn’t even crossed his mind, much to his shame and regret. Worse still, she might lose her job, which she loved, and he would lose the only pathologist willing to work with him, the only one with any degree of competence.

No.

Without a word, Sherlock slid his phone out of his pocket and began typing out a text.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, sounding both curious and wary.

“Texting Mycroft. I’m sure he can use his influence to ensure your position is—”

“No, Sherlock, please don’t,” she shook her head, and he paused, staring at her in disbelief. “I’m not afraid of facing the consequences.”

“Molly, it’s as good as done,” he insisted, then quickly finished his message and pressed send. “There, it’s done. You’ll probably still face some form of disciplinary action, but nothing drastic.”

“Sherlock—”

“You’re not losing your job, Molly,” he cut her off firmly. “Not on my watch. And it’s my fault you’re in this situation in the first place, so ensuring you keep your position is the very least I can do.”

Again, she shook her head. “I told you, I don’t blame you.”

“I do,” he blurted out, surprising both of them.

They were stunned into silence, gaping at one another as the air around them seemed to hum with electricity. Sherlock noted the subtle dilation of her pupils, and at the same time realized his own pulse had become elevated. The electric current intensified, and Sherlock was on the verge of… something… taking some form of action, God only knew what… when his phone let out a chime, effectively shattering the strange and rather worrying moment. He happily turned his attention to his phone, reading the response from Mycroft:

IT’S ALREADY DONE. YOU’LL BE TAKING MUMMY TO THE THEATRE IN THREE WEEKS.

“There,” he gave a satisfied nod, rising to his feet as he pocketed his phone. “I expect you’ll receive nothing more serious than a few months’ probation and observation, during which you will no doubt prove both your capabilities and professionalism.” When his eyes finally landed on her face again, his chest constricted. “You’re crying again, why are you crying?”

With a watery laugh, Molly wiped away her tears, then she stood and walked toward him. Time seemed to grind to a halt as she leaned in, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself, then reached up to press a feather-light kiss to his cheek. A warm, tingling energy spread from the point of contact down each of his extremities, while his heart danced a samba beneath his ribs. He was surrounded by the scent of vanilla and lemon soap and a trace of formaldehyde, and something else just underneath the more obvious aromas, something sweet and lovely and entirely Molly.

As he lingered within that moment, memorized her scent and the touch of her lips, he finally understood the feelings that had been plaguing him since he first saw her tears. The pain of knowing she was upset, the buzzing energy surrounding them only minutes ago, and now the racing of his heart and the warmth of his skin as she touched him… they all pointed to one obvious conclusion.

He was attracted to Molly Hooper.

Shit.

Molly stepped away, perfectly oblivious to the turmoil raging inside his head. She smiled bashfully, her eyes lowered, and Sherlock had to suppress a shiver at the loss of contact. “Thank you, Sherlock. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

He shook his head. “This is me repaying you, Molly,” he insisted. “And it is nowhere close to enough.”

“I’d do it again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but still resonant with the quiet strength he knew she possessed. “Without question.”

The electric charge returned in full force as their eyes connected, and Sherlock began to question his resolve where sentiment was concerned. Caring is not an advantage, his brother’s voice taunted from within his mind, and he immediately disregarded it. What further proof could there be to refute that claim? Here before him stood a woman who loved completely, unconditionally, and without restraint, and beneath her soft, slight, sometimes child-like exterior, she was a pillar of strength.

Sod it.

In an instance, Sherlock’s arms were at her waist and dragging her towards him. Molly scarcely had time to gasp and put her hands on his shoulders before his lips claimed hers. Every sensation he’d felt thus far was amplified tenfold, and his hands curled into fists around the fabric of her jumper. After the initial shock wore off, she relaxed in his arms, though her grip on him never loosened, as if he were the only thing that kept her standing. Sherlock, acting purely on instinct, responded by hoisting her up, crushing her against him as he took advantage of the new angle and deepened the kiss. Then Molly—his strong, brave, beautiful Molly—surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist and raking her fingers through his hair. He groaned against her lips, hungry and aching for more… but well aware that this wasn’t the time.

Slowly, with great reluctance, he ended the kiss, but unable to bear releasing her just yet, kept hold of her and touched his forehead to hers. For a time, neither of them spoke, their laboured breaths the only sound.

Eventually, Molly broke the silence. “Well… that was unexpected.”

“Quite,” he agreed. She tensed, and his eyes shot to hers in concern. “Molly?”

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked plainly.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she persisted. “You’ve never… not once… and I just… why now?”

Sherlock shoved aside the flash of irritation at so many unfinished sentences, and answered her with a single word: “Sentiment.” When her brow puckered with confusion, he went on, “I’ve dismissed it as a weakness for years… but thanks to you, I’ve realized that it’s anything but. It’s strength. And I am tired of fighting it.”

Her lips curved into a radiant smile, which soon turned mischievous. “So… you fancy me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes, then silenced her giggles with his lips.

~*~

I live for Sherlock realizing he’s caught feelings for Molly and just going, SHIT. 🤣 Thanks so much for the prompt!

#my writing #sherlolly trope duos #sherlolly fanfiction #sherlolly #flatmates #bad day turned good #these two kids #can't get over how adorable they are #i ain't even mad #thanks for the prompt

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