#do you think my social anxiety likes me breaking down in a public place alone ? NO

[blingblong55]

To live without- 141 + Alejandro

Based on a request:

Hii can I make a request for some angst?? Maybe the reader having an argument with the TF 141 + Alejandro, inside the car or anywhere resulting to a break up?? Cause I'm a sucker for angst, thankss 🫶

F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, break-ups, cheating (not all)

A/N: This will be in 5 parts

Part 2, (Soap), Part 3 (Gaz), Part 4 (Alejandro), Part 5 (Ghost)

It has been a stressful few months for him, between his job, you, his own safety and yours, let alone the current argument over her. It's why you and he are now in the car, having this argument.

Price:

He decided that since Laswell invited him to dinner with a few other soldiers and agents, why not take you? Besides you and him haven't gone out much since his last deployment, so this is the perfect opportunity. While having dinner at some restaurant, Price and a woman, much closer to his age than you, stroked conversation. He was telling her stories that not once he had told you and of course, his natural flirty state was in the mix. You were talking with Kate and her wife when you saw how close the woman was getting with your boyfriend. So, as one does, you took his hand and he immediately let go of it, not once making eye contact with you.

Kate and her wife saw this and knew it would not end well if the woman was not taken elsewhere. After dinner, you were the first one to leave the establishment. All others inside were either saying their goodbyes or getting acquainted. "yeah, this is my-" he turns to introduce you to some agent only to find your seat empty. Immediately he left too, only to find you in the car, probably telling your friend what was going on. He gets in, " alright, so will you tell me what the hell that was about?" he asks you. You look at him, for a while now he has been distant, so of course you had even more motives to suspect him. "You let go of my hand," your voice soft yet hinting at some hurt his past action left behind.

That was it, the final straw that threw him over the edge, "you fucking walked away from dinner because I didn't hold your hand any longer?!"

"Yes, do you even care how that even looks? I hold your hand all the time at dinners and this was the first time you let go of it because of that woman!"

"Don't you dare bring her into this." by this point some of the wine he had drunk was making its way into his system. "Why not, hm? why did you let go of my hand, John!" your eyes teary, trying to blink them away. "You really think this is all about you? That I intend to hurt you by some little thing like letting go of your hand?!" Your argument is being heard by some people. He knows better, that at dinners or in public when you hold his hand it's because you are trying to calm yourself down, your social anxiety gets the best of you and his hold brings comfort. "...she's just a friend.." he murmurs. And just when you were going to say something, he gets a text, "Will you come over after you drop her off?" he knows damn well you saw it and now he is prepared for the storm. "you are cheating on me?" oh the way your voice cracked and how tears spilt from your eyes. "...sorry," was all he could say. "you let go of my hand because you and this fucking whore have a thing!" back to yelling. "R/n, you are just a fucking pain in the ass! So of course I am cheating on you!" the instant regret once those words left his mouth.

The look on your face as he said them, never to forget the last time he saw that face of yours. And now you are far from him, he alone in his empty house, never to be called home again. Never to be greeted by you and your happy personality, truth be told, he still looks for you in every place he goes.

A/N: Hi, so since I don't want to make this post too long I separated it into parts, who do you want for part 2?

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod 141 #cod #141 x reader #task force 141 #mw2 141 #mwii #141 #price x reader #price mw2 #price x graves #price call of duty #price cod #john price x y/n #john price #john price fanfic #john price cod #john price x oc #john price oneshot #john price call of duty #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #cod mwii #kate laswell #cod x female reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x oc

[reverie-starlight]

I'm absolutely down bad for Hawks and also not caught up with the current plot, therefore this seems like the perfect opportunity to ask for some general headcanons with a shy reader!! 🥲🛐🤍

Have a wonderful day (and ofc take all the time you want I just found your post and HAD to request) <33

AHHH thank you so much for this!!! I really hope I didn't mess it up too badly- I'm still trying to get his character figured out so this is going to seem a bit more "trial and error" esque until I get more comfortable with him. It's literally my first time writing for Hawks ever and I'm very excited!!

{Hawks with a shy!reader HCs}

gn!reader, as always :)

much fluff, possibly some inconsistency, a lot of effort lol. tried to keep it as general as possible cause it manifests differently for everyone. 

(I haven’t written in this format for a long time so the beginning is pretty messy and just me organizing my thoughts i’m so sorry you deserve better)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay so.

he is not shy at all

but he's not like,,, suuuuper outgoing either

you know what i mean by that, right?

he's easy going but also pretty direct and serious when the occasion calls for it

he radiates comfort and good vibes to me, so i think a lot of people would find it very easy to talk to him

he's also pretty confident

so I think he'd work well with a s/o who's more on the shy/reserved side, you'd compliment each other well

and however your shyness manifests (if it’s on the subtle side or more obvious) he’s prepared to help you out

if it’s something you want to work towards getting over, he’d try bringing you to his office on slower days to meet new people and help you build up some confidence

or to work events where there wouldn’t be any cameras or the general public. he would never throw you into the spotlight like that, but bringing you to places where there’d be a lot of people would be good for breaking you out of your shell

and if it’s something you already have under control and know how to work around, he supports you with that too!!

either way he loves you and accepts the fact that being social isn’t your thing

absolutely melts when he understands you’re finally 100% comfortable around him

he realized this basically the same moment you did- you were in your apartment just hanging out and you started singing along to an overplayed commercial on the TV (you once told him that singing around people wasn’t something you liked doing but it happened so naturally in that moment that his wings rustled in pure happiness). You both just looked at each other for a second in surprise before pulling you onto his lap and kissing all over your face <3

it was pretty early on in your relationship, which makes it that much sweeter to him. it means a lot that you were able to warm up to him so fast.

when you’re alone together, or with your friends/family and you’re comfortable enough to fully be yourself??? lives for that

he’d also never tease you about how different you are in public vs with him. because you’re still YOU, it’s just a more reserved and quiet version of you and that’s okay!! he loves every side of you without a doubt

if it ever got so bad (like to the point where it could be considered social anxiety and not just normal shyness anymore), he’d either wrap his wings around you to calm you down and give you some privacy 

or he’d send a feather to you to hold on to and discreetly comfort you with that

the bird man loves you that’s all <333

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this!! I’m really sorry it took so long to publish, and i’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted!! University is insane and I finally had time to write today. 

likes and reblogs appreciated <3

#reverie asks #reverie requests #hawks x reader #hawks fluff #mha hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami fluff

[petrovna-zamo]

I am currently contemplating going to the yard sale- on one hand, I live like 40ish minutes away so it’s a quick drive and I might find something really cool; on the other hand, I don’t have anyone to go with and I’m not sure if I can afford anything. I’m also not sure if it’s ok to go as a fan (if that makes sense?) like I’m not a super fan or a creep and if I were to go it truly would just be to find something cool but I worry that my appearance as a 22 yr old girl would come across as psycho stalker fan. Any advice? (I might just be overthinking)

I say you should go! As a fellow 20 something year old resident of Los Angeles, I’m not too far off from you in age and distance so I can relate to a lot of this, especially the social anxiety and a tendency to overthink things lol. So you came to the right place! I’m going to break down all the reasons why I think you should go. Hopefully I’ll dissuaded some of your fears and won’t add to them!

I totally get why you might feel weird about going, especially as a fan, but considering they gave the address out to everyone, when they said all are welcome I think they really do mean it! Katya may cosplay as a communist but ultimately at the end of the day she just wants your money too lol. I think that’s why she and Andrew opened this up to the general public with the full knowledge that fans can and will come. They’re trying to make a buck!

I know in the past Katya has done this type of thing with Willam and from what I can recall, a lot of fans showed up and they were prepared for that so you’ll probably be in similar company! You’re also approaching this more as a consumer/buyer than as a fan which is kind of the most normal of interaction to have? Especially when going alone. Just think of it as shopping! Also it’s super close to that 8000 Sunset Strip shopping plaza right around the corner so I’m sure they’re going to be attracting bystanders as well, not just fans so there will be normal amount of “regular” people that will be there. I think it will be half their artsy porn friends and half fans aka us regular folks. Ultimately I think at the end of the day it doesn’t matter much to them, they’re happy to have everyone and again, they just want your coin lol.

As far as cost goes, I think things will be priced from all other the place too so don’t let that deter you. I know Katya really bumps the price up for items on her depop because she can as a famous person selling sweat soaked personal belongings, but I get the sense that this is for items big and small that can’t be easily sold online. It’s a moving/everything must go type of deal. So there will be furniture like bed frames that I’m sure are costly but I bet there will be less expensive knickknacks as well like face masks that are more affordable. Also Katya is very thrifty herself so while she may over charge in some areas, I don’t think everything will be entirely unreasonable. I remember from the drag sale with Willam, they sold stuff in every price range. Some fans said that while they may not have been able to afford the more expensive clothing items, there were plenty of little things like accessories that were cheaper so they felt they were still able to purchase something special.

Also, I totally relate to the social anxiety of going to something alone! I don’t know if that’s a big hang up for you in this instance but I will say as time has gone on, I’ve felt more comfortable doing things solo (and sometimes even prefer it!). Have you ever gone to something with a friend who wasn’t as into it as you and it almost ruined the experience because they didn’t share the same level of enthusiasm? Maybe that’s just me lol. I will say every time I’ve gone to something on my own that I really wanted to attend, I’ve always ended up enjoying it. I never regretted not going in those situations, you know?

And lastly, I will say the fact that you care enough to not push boundaries and appear “stalkerish” means you have more social tact than most and the other fans that will undoubtedly show up and definitely act that way. Idk how much fan interaction Katya is planning on doing, but again at the Willam thing she was down to take pics and chat. She’s pretty amenable to that stuff because she likes meeting people. This might be all business though so who knows. But if you’re not expecting anything on that level then you’re already approaching it in a more respectful manner and can’t really disappoint or be disappointed in that department!

If it seems like I’ve really thought this through it’s because I definitely have! If I didn’t have another commitment that I can’t really get out of this Sunday, I would seriously consider going myself. Since we’re both Angelenos, if you feel comfortable and ever want to come off anon and chat about it some more, I’d be happy to talk! I also understand maintaining your privacy, especially online. But if there’s ever future LA related Katya events that you’re considering going to and wondering if anyone else is, you can bet that I probably am as well! I will admit part of me is rooting for you to go to this so that we have someone on the inside to let us know how it went and report back lol. Hopefully if you do decide to go, you buy something cool or at the very least have a fun shopping experience. Anyways, good luck either way!

#this is long and very LA specific lol #sorry I’m replying to this a day late #I’ve been offline #idk if you'll see this before tomorrow or if you've already made up your mind at this point #but I’m curious on what you decide to do either way! #yard sale anon

[feral-bite]

My partner has once again disappointed me.

I don't know how this man excels so greatly at doing things that are designed to make me lose my patience and get pissed off.

For context, this person has undiagnosed ADHD which he has not reconciled fully with. I'm talking "has brought up the possibility that he has ADHD but has not acknowledged that ADHD makes your life harder/makes you learn that neurotypical people generally have it easier than him". He also has some social anxiety / public anxiety, extending to detesting crowds, not wanting to be seen in public, and being nauseous when he thinks about socialising even with people he's close to, including his friends of 6+ years and me, his boyfriend. Before our relationship, he met up with his friends regularly despite the anxiety.

We're on summer break, and a friend who's studying overseas is having his summer break at the same time as us at home, so he's back here during this time. Despite planning to take advantage of the school break to go out on proper dates, his anxiety nausea has caused him to be unable to meet me or his friends for pretty much the whole duration even though he's said himself that he wants to see that friend while he's back here. He'll get nauseous while packing to go out, and feel nauseous while travelling, with his greatest fear being that he'll throw up on public transport/in public on the way. As a result, we've planned for our meetups to be at someone's house closer to his place.

Today, we were supposed to meet up at my place, which is only half an hour away from him. We even made it a point to sleep early yesterday night so we woke up on time for today's lunch appointment. He usually eats lunch at home and gets something soupy for his stomach for dinner with us, so I expected him to be on the way when we finished lunch and started making our way to my place. He was! I was so proud of him because before now he wouldn't even make it out of the house, and today he made it at least a bus interchange!

But then he saw the Sunday crowd at the station and noped out of everything. I suggested taking the bus over since it's likely to be less crowded, but he already gave up. "Because it makes [him] feel like [I'm] forcing [him] to come". I said I wasn't, he could turn tail and go home if he wanted to as long as he said so. Me being upset/disappointed about it isn't some coercion tactic or whatever, it's just a fact. I wouldn't get mad at him or hold it over his head.

He says: "Whatever / I've tried / It doesn't matter". That's fine. But instead of going home and playing with us over discord, he decided to loiter around presumably near or at the bus interchange until it was a reasonable time to just go home (not that I know how many hours that is). Like, he would rather loiter around some random place alone for ?? hours than either tolerate the crowd to get to my place or just go home and tell his parents some excuse as to why he didn't go.

And he isn't even willing to look up the symptoms of the disorder HE suspects he has. "Maybe you can try looking up rejection dysphoria or ADHD symptoms in adults?" "No."

Like, what the fuck do you want me to do? I've suggested coming over to pick you up from the bus interchange but it "doesn't change anything (about the fact that there's a crowd)", even though there's no way to meet on a day where public transport won't cuck the shit out of you because our friends have weekday commitments and we've had firsthand evidence that my presence does cheer you up and calm you down. Like when I had to fight tooth and nail to get to your apartment with horribly designed security/layout for visitors and you complained of nausea the whole time all the way until I arrived and OH WOW suddenly everything's FINE?? No more anxious nausea????

So yes, I'm a bit irritated that we made the stars align for you and you still gave up early.

#vent tag #this is a vent blog but if anyone has suggestions on how to deal with it i am very open to them #i put in so much emotional legwork and was willing to put in so much physical legwork and you couldn't even be assed to meet me halfway #or even let me help because you think it makes you pathetic or something #get over yourself please for both our sakes

[heysatanitsyourgirl]

I just had a panic attack and I texted my mum for support for the first time ever (she’s never believed I suffer from any sort of mental health issues ) and her idea of support was telling me to stop like yes mother IM TRYING TO.

#do you think my social anxiety likes me breaking down in a public place alone ? NO #anxiety #tw: panic attacks #tw:panic attack in public #parents #she’s trying

[stratiotis-nth]

Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.

He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.

At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.

Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.

Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.

His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.

For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.

“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”

“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”

“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”

No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.

“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.

Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.

“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.

Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.

It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.

This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.

Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.

“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.

“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.

“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel’s heart seized with terror.

“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“

“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”

And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.

People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.

It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.

The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.

Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.

“Whoa, Jesus!”

Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“

The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.

Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.

The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.

Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.

The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.

Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.

But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—

was Castiel himself.

He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.

It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.

He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.

“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.

He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.

“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.

“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.

“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.

“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.

“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?

“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”

“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—

“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.

“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.

What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?

“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.

“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“

“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.

He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.

“Sorry again, man.”

It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.

Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.

It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.

Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.

A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.

The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.

Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.

This could not be happening.

#SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER THIS WAS GETTING TOO LONG AGAIN #IM REALLY BAD ABOUT KEEPING THESE SHORT #BUT I KINDA WANNA WRITE THIS FULLY?? #MAYBE? idk #supernatural #cas #castiel #destiel #spn #casdean #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #destiel fandom #destiel fanfic

[fabricated-misslieness]

Hello! May I request sfw/nfsw hcs for Corpse (or Sykkuno) x Male reader please? If not that's cool, I hope you have a wonderful day! - 🥀

Corpse Husband and Sykkuno x male reader

Ah, back to my normal format-- WAIT A WILTED FLOWER ANON

Requested: Yes

SFW & NSFW Relationship Headcanons with Corpse and Sykkuno

Corpse Husband

SFW

My man’s got drip, so if you don’t got drip, he’s probably going to help you dress up.

Imagine matching outfits with Corpse, that’d be so cool.

Painting your nails together is nice bonding time.

He doesn’t go out in public very often, so if you don’t either, that’s great. That said, if you do go out, you’re probably going out together.

Crippling social anxiety ain’t going to stand going outside alone

Corpse doesn’t take care of himself well, so you have to. You’ve got to remind him to shower, brush his teeth, eat, and go to sleep for at least three hours. Don’t pressure him into trying more than three, cuz it’s hard, y’know? And help with the foil

You’ve got to help him with his issues, reassure him he’s good and that he’s enough.

If he’s feeling depressed, you’ve got cuddles for days, though you do have to get up sometime.

If you’re gen z, he'll quote a vine or tiktok and expect you to go along with him. If you don’t know the reference, you’ll get a feigned disappointed look and a small teasing comment.

Sometimes he starts singing his songs while he’s doing something, so follow along with him, it’s cute.

Stargazing and other edgy date ideas are his go-tos.

If you’re dating him and aren’t like a youtuber or internet personality, you’re not allowed in his youtube room. 

Maybe he’ll tell you he’s a youtuber, but even if he does, you’re still not allowed.

Coffee, always, every morning

You’re a tea person? Okay, but he’s not drinking any of your stuff, he’s drinking his dirty Earth beans, as Jack calls them.

You’re a coffee person? You wake up to a hot cup of coffee, but not breakfast.

Corpse needs you to cook for him, he’s not the best cook, certainly not the worst, but he likes your food.

Unless you suck at cooking, in that case, he’ll cook.

I don’t see him as much of a physical affection kinda person, apart from cuddling since it’s relaxing.

He’s fine with it cause it’s you, he won’t really take hugs or shake hands with strangers, but you’ve got to initiate everything apart from cuddles and kisses, unless he’s in some sort of love bug mood.

Sometimes he’ll just silently drag you to the bed or couch and plop himself in your lap.

You better get good at reading him, cause sometimes he wants something, but he doesn’t want to be a bother, but he really wants it-- it’s just a mess.

Help raise his self-esteem, too.

NSFW

Once again, you have to initiate everything.

I don’t imagine Corpse is very experienced in being bottom so you have to guide him.

He’ll probably feel like he’s being a nuisance to you, so you have to reassure him he isn’t.

The first time is awkward but once you get comfortable together, he’s good at it.

The first few times he’s a pillow baby, when you get comfortable he might be a brat sometimes. Most of the time, though, he’s a pillow baby.

Corpse loves to please you and do what you ask of him, but he has his boundaries, of course. Things like testing his flexibility too much, hard degrading, knife play, public sex, etc.

He’s probably into slight praise, since he’ll grow a bit desensitised to praise if you use it too much; choking, bondage, overstimulation, orgasm denial, and degrading. How can one be into degrading and praise at the same time, you ask?

✨mood✨

Would probably love you dirty talking to him and making him beg, too.

Favorite position is from behind because you can go deep and you won’t see his face. He gets a little embarrassed from his moans and your gaze on him.

He’s a mix between a moaner and a groaner, more of a moaner though. His moans in comparison to his voice are a way higher pitch, like his laugh to his voice, which is a fact that gets him a little embarrassed.

His voice makes dirty talking amazing, and so is his begging. (For reference, remember that one time he was saying “Please vote Rae” like he was desperate)

He likes receiving but he also loves giving, he gets to pleasure you and choke himself at the same time. His face going down on you is an absolute turn on, it’s so sexy, and the way he smirks up at you.

After care is just cuddles for him, since he feels a little lazy and doesn’t want to get up to clean himself up. He only will if you tell him to.

As for how often you have sex, it depends on you. The only times he’d initiate is sexual tension or special occasions.

Sykkuno

SFW

He’s inexperienced, since as he says “The ladies aren’t attracted to me.”, which they are but he doesn’t give himself enough credit.

He’s a cuddle bug if you’re alone. That said, he likes showing off that he’s yours in public by holding hands and kissing your cheek, but anything apart from that will render him into a blush.

Sensitive baby, so most pick up lines and flirting make him flustered.

Sykkuno is a disaster in planning dates, he finds a place he wants to go to but he thinks you wouldn’t want to go there, a place you’d like but you end up not liking it, some place you like but he doesn’t, he’s just a mess.

You’ve gotta take care of him, but not as much as Corpse. You have to make sure Sykkuno doesn’t forget to shower and that he eats nutritional meals, rather than only gamer or college student food.

Imagine dressing him up like a soft boy. He’d be so cute. The pastels already go so well with him.

The kisses he initiates are always soft and short and usually don’t drift off into anything else. Anything rougher than a normal kiss would drag out a small moan from his throat, making him embarrassed.

He likes hugging you from behind and resting his head on your back. If you turn around and hug him back, he’s a little flustered. If you nuzzle into him, he’ll get even more flustered.

Cuddles are usually spooning, laying his head on your lap or embracing with a soft blanket over the two of you.

He loves it when you play with his hair, it lulls him into a sleepy state.

Coming out to the internet entirely depends on you. Whether you want to or not, it’s your decision.

If you do, however, you’ll definitely be in plenty of videos, including OTV ones.

NSFW

Also inexperienced here, totally inexperienced.

You’re his guide. He’s a stuttering mess throughout the first few times, and he will always be, though just a little less.

There’s a lot of “umm”s and “uh, okay?” when he doesn’t understand.

Once you actually get to the fucking, he’s a total pillow baby. His moans are so pretty and he mewls and whines along with them.

They’re high pitched and loud, one after the other with small breath breaks.

He pants and sweats a lot from the beginning.

Usually, at the end he has small tears in his eyes. They’re not from pain or anything, they’re from all the pleasure you’re giving him.

He prefers receiving over giving since he doesn’t think he’s very good at giving, that said, his face going down on you is hella cute too.

He has tears in his eyes and his face is flushed red.

His ahegao face is just as beautiful, if not, even more.

Favorite positions would be riding, because he doesn’t want you to do everything, and from behind, because he’s embarrassed about the faces he makes, despite all the praise you give him.

Kinks would probably overstimulation and praise.

After care is totally up to you, since he’s too tired for anything. He will complain about how sticky he feels if you don’t want to get up either, which ultimately urges you to get up and help him.

How often you have sex depends on how Sykkuno is feeling, which could be entirely random.

#youtubers x reader #youtubers x male reader #sykkuno x male reader #sykkuno x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x male reader #corpse husband fanfiction #sykkuno fanfiction #anonymousrequest #⚠️nsfw🙈

[stickynotesandstress]

Red Flags in Class Syllabi

Hello, here I am with another post full of advice for university and like most of my posts, it comes from personal experience. A little backstory on this: my first year of university, there was this theatre class I was in where everyone had already become friends or knew each other from high school drama festivals. We always had to do group work where we chose our own groups and I was always alone and did everything in my power to pretend like I wasn’t without the prof noticing. I was miserable and had had multiple panic attacks during or because of that class. However, I was a first year former gifted student who didn’t want to switch classes. I hit a breaking point one night when I was sobbing on the phone to my mom and she made me get up and drop the class. At that point, it was too late to register for one in its place and I am in my third year now, taking 6 courses online during a global pandemic to make up the credits so I can graduate on time. Ever since that experience, if I’ve had any major doubts about a class, I drop it without hesitation as soon as possible so I still have time to register for a new class. In fact, this semester alone, I dropped three classes and switched to new ones. Here are some red flags in course syllabi/things profs say during the first class

1. Group projects. We are in university, everyone, we are paying thousands of dollars for this and we should not be paying that much money for our grades to depend on others. Of course, and this applies to all of the red flags on the list, if the class in necessary for your degree (has happened to me a few times) sometimes you have to suck it up. Still, if you can drop the class without it messing up your degree, I would recommend it, especially right now when most people are fully online because group projects based completely online are even more hellish.

2. If a professor makes a point about how they don’t or hardly ever give As. This one is obvious. These profs like to make shit difficult for no reason and think they’re waaay more important than they really are. Most “I don’t give As” profs that I’ve had have been pretentious assholes.

3. Similarly, if a professor is bragging about how hard their class is/saying that you will likely fail. They are bragging about how bad they are at their job. They are there to teach you and if they advertise that all these people have failed their class, they aren’t trying hard enough. Also usually pretentious as fuck too.

4. If you miss more than two classes, you will fail the class. I’m not talking about profs having attendance policies, that is fine. What I’m referring to is the ones who take it to the extreme. I’ve seen syllabi where profs will fail you, despite all your other hard work, if you miss more than two classes. Like, it’s an automatic fail. It’s not worth the stress.

5. Any class where participation is worth more than 20% (and that’s pushing it). That shit is not fair to the shy students, students with social anxiety, and students who don’t like public speaking. Your work should be the basis for most of your grade, not whatever bullshit answer to class questions you come up with. I’m not a big fan of participation grades in general but to make them worth that much is not ideal (unless you’re not shy and extroverted and don’t have social anxiety, if so, I’m definitely jealous).

6. Workload. I’m not talking about amount of assignments (though if there are a whole lot, you might want to switch, you know what you can handle), I’m talking about readings every week. I dropped a class this semester because the prof said that every week we would have 60+ pages of readings a week which, according to him, wasn’t a lot. These readings for for a polisci class so it was all dense academic articles and government documents (snore) and I didn’t need the class for my degree. When you have a full class load with readings and actual assignments for all of those classes, a class assigning that many pages a week is a red flag especially when the prof doesn’t think it’s a lot. They will pile on the work.

7. Not listing all assignments in the syllabus. This is my pet peeve and I’m in two classes where we don’t know when assignments are due or what they are. This is a red flag as you need to be able to plan assignments and write dates down, especially in university. Surprise assignments and tests are the worst and set students up to fail.

8. Any time a prof/syllabus says “this class will change your life” or some variation of that. These professors are the most obnoxious people and none of the classes I’ve taken that did change my life ever told me so over and over again. 

9. Any class with busywork as homework. By busywork, I mean homework on the online part of the textbook, exercises from the textbook, stuff like that. This is high school level stuff and you don’t learn anything from it. Also because they use the online quizzes that come with the textbook, that means you have to buy a brand new textbook to get that code so there will be no money saving here. I once had to spend $200 on a LOOSE LEAF textbook (they only offered it in that format) just to use the online quizzes. The whole class was like getting in a time machine and going back to high school.

10. If your first class is full of students and your second class has significantly less, that is a warning sign that they might have picked up on something you didn’t. Take another look at that syllabus and pay close attention to the prof that class and make your decision after that. 

11. Check Rate My Professor!!! I cannot stress this enough. Some of the negative reviews are obviously people just mad they got a bad grade, but when students who got high marks are complaining, there is a problem. Take them with a grain of salt until you actually go to the first class, but make sure to read them before class so you know what to look out for. Also, in general, make sure to add your own ratings for profs while you’re there, both positive and negative because it really helps. I go to a really small school so our RMP reviews are limited so I do my best to post about each of my professors to add more. 

12. Know yourself. If you’re first year, this might be more challenging, but you know how you learn best. If all of the assessment methods in a class are things you know you struggle with (multiple choice tests, short answer tests, exams worth 60% of your grade, long papers, research papers, etc.), use your head and make the right decision for you. If you suck at multiple choice tests and force yourself to take a class where that is all you do, it will be hell. If you choose classes based on assessment method, it will help your GPA, I promise you. I get better at selecting courses every year because I learn myself and what I’m best at and I have raised my GPA (not a whole lot, but usually by a decimal point) every semester because I am constantly learning what is best for me. 

#professor red flags #drop the class #dropping classes #syllabus red flags #syllabus #university #uni #university tips #uni tips #college tips #study tips #studying #studyblr #college struggles #college hacks #uni hacks #university hacks

[writingsbychlo]

upholding traditions | dave hodgman

word count; 19,396

summary; a year later, dave finding himself in need of his christmas party saviour again, and is missing his girlfriend, thinking she won’t make it home for the holidays.

notes; honestly, this switches between his POV and hers a lot just to get the full story across, so just roll with it. click here to check out their new years outfits, I had very particular images in mind.

warnings; underage drinking, smut, semi-public sex

“Oh, Dave, isn’t that just the loveliest little garden?” He could only nod, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, to contain the yawn that he wanted to release. On one side was his mother, and on the other side was his ex, her shoulder pressed up to his as the perfume he once thought smelt alluring and sexy now just gave him a headache and made his nose wrinkle was overwhelming, her phone held out in front of the two of them, as she swept through photos of her new home. “You know, Dave, if you had a nice little house like that, you could host some lovely little event. Are you planning to host any, Aubrey?”

He gave her his best smile, knowing how fake it all must seem, and when she finally pulled her arm back and placed her phone away, her body leaving his side, he felt like he could breathe again, no longer sandwiched between the two women. The problem was simple; his mother had joined his neighbourhood book club, as had Aubrey’s mother, and over the year, as the group cycled between various members houses for meetings, his mother had become much more social and friendly. Aubrey had transferred home for college, after Ronnie and his piss-poor band had landed a series of songs to be made for cat-food commercials that he considered his ‘big break’.

Slapping an engagement ring on the pushy blonde’s finger and deciding the two of them would move in, Dave had come home from college, exhausted and ready to crash, to find his mother had befriended his ex, and everything since that day only one week ago had been a steady de-escalation in his run down to Christmas.

After the raging success that last year’s set of Christmas parties had been, and the formation of the neighbourhood book club - who seemed to have now self-elected themselves as the community event organisers - he once again found himself standing in an itchy festive jumper on Christmas Eve, a glass of punch in his hand as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that if his mother and his ex-girlfriend got any friendlier, she might actually start being invited to family gatherings and thanksgivings.

With her ‘big news’, in the form of an engagement and a small house in her hometown as she decided she was never going to break free, apparently, Dave found himself with a whole new set of problems. He was being badgered by everyone he knew about when he was going to settle down, when he was going to find himself a nice girl, when was it going to be his turn to get a house or start making roots, and what his direction was?

The worst of it all? You weren’t here to save him this time.

Three weeks before Christmas, and you’d broken the news to him over your weekly video chat date. You weren’t making it home for Christmas this year, your junior college year workload had all become too much and you were staying behind over your break to finish it all up. You’d been vague, not many details and so he didn’t have much to talk about when the older ladies of the neighbourhood asked him where you were, meaning they were all fixing him with disapproving stares and offering to set him up with their granddaughters or nieces.

Glancing around the room, he longed to catch sight of you, your sweet smile, enough to light up a room, but he already knew he wouldn't find you. The last time he had seen you in person had been the summer, when he’d flown all the way to your university campus as a surprise, spending the entire last week of summer with you, and flying back for his first day there, falling asleep in his first lecture of second year, and yet he hadn't regretted a moment of it. Going to college at the opposite end of the country to your girlfriend was hard, more so when your schedules never aligned and workloads began to pile on, but he struggled not getting to see you for so long.

Swallowing thickly, Dave gave up on all decorum and falseness of polite wishes, not missing the side-eye his mother gave him as he slumped out of the conversation, not having a single fuck to give about the names of paint samples Aubrey had been trying on the walls, but instead dipping down to sit in the chair closest to himself. The night was pushing on, and he had no doubt that the dinner would be being served soon, and he placed his chin onto his hand, elbow balanced on the tabletop as he propped up his head and tried to stay awake.

“Dave, you’re being rude!”

He flinched as his mother pinched at his shoulder, and he swatted her away, glaring up at her as he scowled at him, and Aubrey chuckled a little, a sound that grated his nerves when he was already wearing so thin on tolerance for any kind of festivities right now. “Girl talk, am I right?”

“Sure, Aubrey.”

“I think there’s something else bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” His mother cooed a little, patting her shoulder, before seeming to find someone else to talk to, wandering away across the room and starting up another conversation, leaving him alone with the woman, and she sipped at the drink in her hands as she stared at him. “Is it because you’re here alone?”

Narrowing his eyes on her, he huffed, and she shrugged slightly.

“It’s okay to be alone, Dave.”

“I’m not alone.” His words were growled out a little bit, and she only seemed to fix him with an even more pitying look, shaking her head slightly, grown-out bangs falling into her face from the slicked-back style she’d put them in, and she tucked them away, the smile on her face now unobscured, and he couldn't quite decipher whether it was condescending or just overly concerned. “I’m not. My girlfriend just couldn't make it for Christmas this year.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

He deadpanned, straightening up a little bit to look at her more clearly, and she fixed him with an innocent look. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She took another sip of her drink, clearly not done with her statement, before her shoulders were slumping as she waved her hand, trying to brush it off. “Sometimes it can just be a bad sign, y’know? When one person in a relationship starts to give up, and the other person starts having to carry all the weight. It never works out.”

“Oh, you mean like how it ended up with us?”

“That’s not fair.” She mumbled, at least having the dignity to look a little offended and guilty. “I was young, I was all over the place with my emotions. I didn’t know what kind of baggage I had then. I thought you were right for me, but it didn’t work out. I’m just saying, anybody who can’t make time for you at Christmas might not be worth it. C’mon, Dave, it’s the holidays. What else could she be doing?”

He gaped a little, not quite sure how to reply, a prickle of doubt racing through his veins as he thought about her words, a feeling he knew was inappropriate because he trusted you implicitly and knew you’d never lie to him, and he was certain that the flame was burning strong still, but now she’d planted that seed of anxiety, and it was growing rapidly.

“She should be here. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all.”

His lips flicked up at the edges, a smile mirrored on her face as she finally cracked through his shell, and he knew she wasn’t all that bad, she just had no filter and ofter was a little too crass for her own good, but Aubrey wasn’t a terrible person, he just didn’t like her all that much. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he patted himself down for it, lifting it to his face, and feeling the entirety of his body perk up as your name flashed access the screen with a new unread message.

A simple text, asking what he was up to, and Aubrey chuckled as she realised it must have been you, but he was barely even in the room anymore, mentally he was in a bubble with you, now. Lifting his phone up to take a picture of the event before him, his eyes swept across everyone in the shot, just once, before he was pausing, and looking again. Lifting down the device, he stared out at the crowds with an uninterrupted gaze, checking that what he was wasn’t just a red-clad illusion on his phone screen.

No, he was right.

There you were, hands still tucked inside the pockets of your coat, scarf around your neck, and you waved at him, phone in your hand still open to the texts on the screen, and he shot up in his chair as he stared at you, jaw hanging open and a disbelieving look on his face. Turning off your phone and tucking it back into your pocket, you unwrapped your scarf from around your neck, hanging it up on the overly crowded coat racks, and turning away from him as you watched your boyfriend get up from the table to shoulder through the crowds towards you.

Slipping your coat down your arms and hanging that up, you shook your hair free of the windblown positions that it had been blown into, turning back to sweep your eyes over the hoards of people. You barely had a chance, before hands were finding your heels, pulling you forwards until you were sharing space with the man, breath shared, a shaky sigh released from him, before the gap was closed.

His mouth slanted across yours, warm and wet and eager, lips moving softly as he tries to tempt you to kiss him back, and you pressed back just as happily. Your hands sat on his sides, feeling him shake a little under your touch as you did, trembling at the connection as you finally saw each other again for the first time since the middle of the year, and he barely pulled back for breath, before he was kissing you deeply once again.

His fingertips were digging into the edge of your jaw, falling way lower and lower, until one was resting gently on your neck your pulse thrumming under his hand, as the other smoothed along your arm, dipping under to sit low enough to reach your waist. Giggling a little against his mouth as his fingertips tickled along your sides, he whined at the break in your exchanges, leaning in to press a series of shortened kisses to your lips until you were resting back from him, far enough for you to crack your eyes open and really take him in.

“Hi, Davie.”

“Really? ‘Hi, Davie.’ That’s all you have to say?” He repeated you, brows shooting up but a playful smile finding his lips as he pinched at your side enough to tickle you, a quiet yelp on your lips as you jerked, fixing him with a mock-glare that scarcely lasted longer than a second, before your arms were coming up to loop around his neck, allowing him to pull you in close again. “You have some explaining to do, ma’am.”

“Couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, could I?” He smiled, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, and your heart raced in his chest as you found yourself wrapped up in him once again, the feeling being sorely missed. Running your fingers through his hair gently, scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, he let out a familiar little rumble of complete contentment as you did. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t know until about a week ago, but I realised that if I pulled some all-nighters and grabbed a last-minute plane ticket, I could be here to see you.”

One of his hands rubbed along yours lightly, sealing around your wrist to bring your hand around close enough for him to press a kiss to your palm, before letting it fall back to his shoulder. “When do you stay until?”

“Right through to the New Year, baby.” His face lit up, a smile that still managed to make butterflies raise up in waves within you, despite a year having passed in your relationship now. “I cleared my schedule for you. You’re going to be getting a whole lot of me real soon.”

“I should hope so.” He whispered, before pulling you back in, puckering his lips to tell you what he wanted, and letting you be the one to close the gap this time. It was softer, and calmer, and much more loving. The first kiss; needy and frantic and simply a reassurance that you were there and not a figment of his imagination had slipped away, and was replaced within the both of you as something that was much more about passion and comfort.

It hurt you, to see so little of him, to know that he missed you just as much as you missed him, every time you had to cancel a date, or fell asleep too soon in differing timezones, or staggered conversations that took the whole day to have via texts, all becoming irrelevant as you found one another again.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, prodding slowly, and you grinned, feeling his own lips curve up against yours in response, but you only made him wait a moment, before you were parting them and allowing him access to lick into your mouth. Beat shared, noses bumping together as mouths slid together and connected with deep and loving exchanges, head twisting to the side as you tried to push yourself up even further into him.

His hands slipped a little lower, the both of you seeming to forget the world around you for a moment as your front pressed to his, hearts beating together in unison and thudding against one another’s chests. For a moment, it was a space in which only the two of you existed, nobody else mattering, before the tranquillity was shattered.

“(Y/N)!”

A loud squealing, high-pitched, drawn-out and overexcited. A voice he knew well and Dave pulled away with a startled shock, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing red in a way that was mirrored to your own as embarrassment flushed your system, in time to find sights on the younger girl in the glittery dress dashing towards you. You dropped down to take a knee just in time, before you were almost being knocked over, her arms wrapping around your neck and her face pressing into your neck as she all but screamed happily into your ears.

Standing back up with the little girl in your arms, her legs found a place either side of your body, sitting on your hip as she held on tightly, and you turned to face her older brother, an adoring look you recognised well was flashing on his features. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stella! We can have so much fun now that I’m back, though!”

“I got new toys!” She was still shouting, making Dave wince a little beside you, and you were sure your eardrum was ringing, but her apology as your boyfriend chastised her for her volume was enough to make your heart melt. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Why don’t you tell me over dinner? I’m a bit of a surprise to everyone, so I think I’ll be sitting at your table again.”

“Well, that seems fitting,” Dave mumbled, grinning at you when you rolled your eyes at him, and yet you still found yourself leaning into him when his hand found your lower back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and scoffing at the dramatic whining and groaning Stella let out at the simple affections. “It’ll be just like last year.”

“I am a sucker for tradition.” You joked, his eyes glinting slightly, and before either of you could say anything else, attention was being called by the tap of a microphone on stage, announcing to you all that it was time to take your seats. Letting Stella back down to the ground, she was bolting away with the intention of leading the way from the very second her toes hit the floor, and Dave was soon after catching your hand with his, squeezing tightly.

He let you lead the way, pulling him along slowly, and his mum gasped loudly as he approached the table behind you, a beam taking over your face at the excitement that the older woman displayed. She was over to you both in a flash, arms held wide before they were wrapping around you and pulling you into her embrace, your hand shaking away from Dave’s so that you could hold her back just as tightly.

You giggled, your eyes meeting his for a second as his mother squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side, before she was finally letting you go. She had released you, just long enough to pinch at one of your cheeks lightly, the other arm sitting on your shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Your mother said you couldn’t make it! We weren’t expecting you, darling. It is lovely to see you, though!”

“Well, I came back as a surprise, she had no idea until she got a call to pick me up from the airport this morning.” His mother’s face cracked out in a smile as she laughed with you, and you felt his fingers inching along your arm, smoothing over your palm before weaving with your own once again, lacing together, and you wrapped your own back in comfort and security to assure him.

“It’s a good thing you did, too! Dave has been moping about all week since finding out you couldn’t make it.” You grinned, turning to look at your boyfriend as his cheeks flared up with red, swallowing thickly and glaring at his mother.

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true, and you know it! You’ve been moody and sulking, pouting all around the house.” He only flushed further, and you leaned in, muffling your laughter by pressing your face into his shoulder, and feeling him sag a little underneath you, giving in, stomping his foot like a child as he whined.

“Mom, stop it!”

“I think it’s cute.” You finally managed to contain your giggles, wrapping your spare arm around his waist, his other hand coming up to rest on your arm and he huffed out as he gave up on the argument, no longer fighting the truth about it all. He had been moody and grouchy, not excited to see in the new year alone, but now you were here with him, and his whole world was lighting up once again. “I missed you, too.”

“You two are just the sweetest.” Your eyes widened, almost having forgotten that his mother was there, and he chuckled down at you, smirking a little now that you were just as embarrassed as he was. “Do you want us to shuffle all the chairs up? We can drag another seat over, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“Thanks, Mrs Hodgman, but that’s okay. I already promised Stella that I’d sit with her this year again, and I never break my promises.”

She only chucked, nodding her head, before you were leaning up to press a kiss to Dave’s cheek, grinning to yourself at the warmth of his skin as he flushed with shyness once again. “Okay, my dear, I’ll go and have a word with the kitchen and see if we can’t rustle up an extra plate for you.”

She walked past you both, wobbling a little on tall heels as her wine raced through her systems, and your boyfriend shook his head as he watched his mother go. He was tugging on your arm, and you looked up at him, following his footsteps over to the kitchen, and Stella was waiting patiently, her hands pressed down into two seats on either side of her own body, preserving them both as other kids began to fill in around the table, denying them the chairs each time, a toothy grin with a missing tooth flashing up as you both arrived.

“Scoot, Stell.” Dave tapped at the back of the left end chair as you took the right, and her head snapped up to him, chocolate brown curls the same shade as her older brother’s bouncing as she did.

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He looked utterly shocked, crushing down to her height, and she shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head at him.

“I want to sit in the middle! She’s my friend, too!” The younger girl insisted, and you couldn't hide your amusement as Dave gaped, eyes flickering up to you for support, before narrowing playfully when he realised he didn’t have it.

“Yeah, Dave. Stella’s my friend, too.”

He growled a little, the action more directed at you, a heatless warning, and his hand ruffled in his sister’s hair as he stood up, begrudgingly taking the other seat. He shuffled closer, until the edge of his chair was pressed up against hers, and his hand was reaching out to rest along the back of your chair, playing lightly with the strands of hair that he could reach, while your attention was turned to his sister. She was a whole year older, but just as adorable, and was already beginning to tell you all about her experience so far in second grade.

Her plate was placed down in front of her, and she paid no mind to it, the other children around the table receiving third as well, but she was far more focused on telling you all about the other kids that she’d met. You took charge, cutting up her food for you as you began to add into her stories, telling her all about your own experience in second grade.

“Y’know, Stell, I met your brother when I was in second grade.”

Her jaw dropped, turning to look back at Dave, who only nodded his head in confirmation, but seeming a little strained as he tried to remember that far back. “Really?”

“Really! He had just moved here, and you weren’t even born yet.” You poked at her sides, tickling her a little, and she broke out in a fit of childlike giggles, squirming slightly, pushing at your hands as she did. “He had two front teeth missing, and a buzzcut.”

Dave groaned behind the little girl, seeming to be patching it together now, a wicked glint on your face as you thought about even more details of the story. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands having been growing out over college, more than the short length that they had been when you’d reconnected with him last year, the strands sticking up a little over his head, messy and untamed, only making it worse the more he messed with it.

“He was in a superhero phase, and he came in wearing a different costume every day of the week.”

He let out a loud groan, but there was a smile hidden behind it, and you finished chopping up her food for her, placing the knife and fork down on the edges and pushing it back over to her, little hand picking up the shorter set of cutlery. The chair your boyfriend was sitting in scraped over the floor as he pushed away from the table, beginning to stand up and leaning over to press a kiss to his sister’s head as he passed her by, before coming to a stop before you.

The adult dishes were beginning to be bought out now that the kids all had their own, and he tipped his head in the direction of the bar, making you realise that neither of you had a drink. You’d been so caught up in the whirlwind excitement of surprising your boyfriend with your return that you’d completely neglected the scratching dryness in your throat, or the rumble in your stomach, lighting up a little bit at the thought.

You nodded your head, tipping your head into his hand when it came to rest over your cheek, leaning down enough to brush his lips against your own. It was barely a kiss, before a little hand was slamming down on the table beside you both, making you jump. “Gross!”

You couldn't help the laugh that you let out, head snapping back down to look at Stella as she glared at you both, your cheeks aching from the grin you held. “You don’t like kisses, Stell?”

“No!”

“Not even if I gave you some little kisses?” You leaned over, scoping her up and into your lap so that you could kiss the crown of her head, holding her to you tightly as you peppered the side of her face with little affections, her face growing red as she laughed and wriggled in your arms, barely an effort to escape at all as she cracked up. Just when she thought she’d made it and you let her go Dave caught her on the other side, pressing a kiss to his sister’s cheek, grinning wickedly as he walked away, and you watched her rub aggressively at both of her cheeks as she tried to wipe them clean.

When she deemed the task finished, she set off on her eating, pointedly moving across a seat to get away from you, dragging her plate over to the chair Dave had once sat in, sticking her tongue out at you as she went, and you only beamed, before she was diving into conversation with the other children.

A waiter leaned over, placing two larger plates down, one for you and one for your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he glanced around the table, before looking to you, and you shrugged, knowing how amusing it was that for now the second year in a row, you were sitting at the kid’s table, despite being in your second year of college, and they walked away with a chuckle.

Moments later, Dave was filling the chair once again, placing a glass down in front of you and raising his brows in silent question of approval as he did. A bubbling gin and tonic, a bottle of beer for him, and you lifted it up, taking a sniff of the contents inside, before taking a testing sip. A concoction of fruity flavours exploded within your mouth, a delicious mix, nodding your approval to him, and he grinned around the neck of his beer as he took a swig himself.

His gaze lingered on you, remaining while you ate, beginning your food, only ever leaving you for a few moments as he ate himself, or answered a question for his sister or one of the other kids, looking away momentarily to chop food or find his drink. It wasn’t an uncomfortable stare, and each time you caught his eyes throughout your conversation and the meal, you felt nothing but utterly loved and cherished.

So, in the pause between your dinner and your dessert, you turned to him, shifting in your seat enough to tangle your feet with his under the table, and his smile seemed to brighten even further.

“Are you trying to burn the image of me into your head, or something?”

“What do you mean?” He moved a little himself, facing you more, one hand smoothing over the tablecloth to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. You waited, and you could tell that he knew exactly what you meant, before shrugging a little, and finally tearing his eyes from you to look around the room. “I hate that we’re always so far from each other, and that this is the first time I’ve seen you in months because college got so busy. I love you, and I’m happy with how we’re doing, but it just..”

“Sucks?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, squeezing your hand back when you squeezed his first, and he watched as people came and went, your attention turning to the mingling folks around you too, and yet you were still entirely wrapped up in one another. “I’m patient, and I’m happy to wait, but sometimes I just feel like we’re being left behind. I mean, my mom and all the neighbours keep going on about the future. They’re all bugging me about when I’m going to move out, start growing up. Simon and Big-C have their own place, Jane just got married, even Aubrey is engaged and moving in with Ronnie.”

He was talking himself breathless, and despite the slightly angry tone to his voice, you knew how to read him, being able to tell that it was more stress than it was frustration, and you placed a hand over his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin gently to soothe him. Placing his hand over your own, and holding it there.

“Everybody just keeps acting like I have no plans, and that my life isn’t going anywhere, but when your future is half-way across the country for fifty percent of the year, it makes it harder to know where you’re going and what to do.”

His words made your heart flutter, and you choked back the cooing that you wanted to make, pulling him in closer to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

It was chaste, and delicate, and you sighed out happily against his mouth as the hand closed over your own simply tightened, lips melding in slow patterns that had your heart beating out of your chest, exploding with emotions, finally being with the man you loved once again. Dragging your hand from under his, you pushed it further around into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, a happy sound making itself known from the back of his throat, a rumble in his chest as he tipped his head further into your hold, and you let out a breath giggle as your lips broke apart, finding him relaxing more and more into your touch with each little scrape, knowing just how to comfort him after all this time.

“Don’t worry, Dave.” He only hummed, eyes fluttering shut as a content look washed over his features, head hanging back, now longer only supported by your hand to hold it up, and his body was sagging into the chair, like the actions you were taking had been a reset button for his entire body, stress clearing away. “You’re my future too. We will have plans, when we’re ready, we don’t have to rush for anyone. It’s me and you, and we can take out time.”

“Me and you?” He repeated, words a little slurred, and he jumped at the shock of a plate clanging down, the waitress apologising as the spoon clicked on the edge of the dish, before pudding a dessert down before you as well, and he forced himself to sit back up, to crack his eyes open and let your hand slip away to take your spoon. “You promise that?”

“Of course, I do. I love you.”

He nodded his head, pecking the tip of your nose as he shook himself off slightly to try and bring some life back to his body, and pulling your chair up and under the table properly.”I love you, too.”

“Good, because that tiramisu looks really good, so I’m kinda’ hoping you’ll share.”

He grinned, eyes flicking over the dish you had yourself, considering it all, before nodding his head. “Okay, but only because your pie looks good too, so we’re splitting them both.”

“Deal.”

Poking your spoon into the dish, you dragged it towards you a little, a disbelieving scoff on his lips as he caught his spoon against the other side, stopping you from taking it any further, and stabbing the cutlery into it hard enough to chime against the counter, before taking a large mouthful of it and bringing it up to eat.

You cringed through a laugh as he chewed loudly and unattractively, his spoon battling yours each time you tried to take a bite of the dessert. “Dave!”

“Hey, I said you could have some, but you have to earn it!”

“That’s how you want to play this?” He nodded, taking another bite of his, and you took the chance, dragging your spoon into it and pulling off a piece of the creamy treat, and he was quick to use his own to scrape it back into the dish. “That's no fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

He picked up the dropped chunk, watching as you pouted, eating it with a wide smile, and half of his tiramisu was already gone, and you gave a dramatic sigh. Instead, you pouted, deciding that if he wanted to play dirty then you would too, and you twisted away from him to face your own sweet, dragging a piece of the apple pie away from the pain crust, and lifting it up to your mouth.

He chuckled beside you, more than amused with his own antics, and you ignored him, letting out a little huff, and not responding to him when he cooed a little, and you tried some more of your pie, staring down into the dish as you pretended to be upset. “Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m only messing around with you. Here, you can have some now.”

He pushed the bowl closer to you, and you looked up at him again, pretending to study him for a moment, and he lifted up his spoon, holding it out to you with a large piece of tiramisu, the Italian delicacy calling out to you. Just as you leaned in to take it, he swerved it around, closing the mouthful between his one lips, and laughing around it as your jaw dropped in shock.

“I won’t fall for your fake sadness, I know when you’re really mad. Good try, though.”

You growled a little, biting at the inside of your cheek to contain your smile, before raising a brow, and dropping your act to deadpan at him. “Fine. War is war, don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“Sounds like a threat?”

“It is.”

It was just the two of you at the table now, the kids long since having finished their ice creams, sticky dishes and spoons left littered around the table as they’d all run off to play, and it was just the two of you left, the low lighting in the corner of the room, a smirk spread over your features as an idea came to mind.

Your hand landed on his thigh, leaning over to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling him shake a little under your hold as he laughed, bringing up the hand that was resting on the back of your chair to weave into your hair instead. His head twisted, lips brushing your ears, and hot breath washing over your neck as he curled back around you.

“Squeezing my thigh and kissing my jaw won’t work, I’m not the same shy kid I was when you first started using that trick.”

You only hummed, nipping a little at his earlobe, before lifting one leg to rest right over the top of one of his own, the blockade of your leg meaning you had enough space to slide your hand up higher. His breathing did hitch then, as your fingers pressed lightly to the crotch of his jeans, and you settled your head onto his shoulder. To anyone who may look over, it was simply a couple cuddling in the corner, young adults who’d missed each other enough to put aside the general rules of PDA for one night, and it would be okay.

Instead, you licked lightly at the base of his neck, a spot you knew made him weak, and your suspicions were confirmed when he trembled under your touch. “Who’s not playing fair now, huh?”

“It was you who made it a war, Dave.” He dropped his spoon, a loud clanging, and he was choking back a moan as you rubbed your palm down against his cock, feeling him twitch under your touch as he did, even through the layers of material. His hand came down, snatching at your wrist, and cursing under his breath as your actions refused to cease, barely suppressing a moan as he began to grow under your hand.

“Fucking hell, you’re evil.” He whispered, and you nipped lightly at that same spot again, hearing him whimper as you did, hips bucking up into your hand, fingers gripping your wrist even tighter as he tried to push you away, yet never trying to hurt you. “I give up, I give up. Fuck, if I cum in my pants at a Christmas party, you’re never driving my car again.”

“You surrender?”

Squeezing the bulge in his pants, you lifted your head, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bit down on his lower lip, turning his face towards yours and pressing your foreheads together to hide the expression on his face. “I surrender. Dessert is all yours.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

He wheezed out a relieved breath as you finally took your hand away, panting slightly as he came down, having been halfway to creaming himself at the age of twenty like some kind of horny freshman, and he looked mildly irritated when he finally managed to pull himself together. “That was low.”

You only grinned, taking his spoon and enjoying the final bite of his tiramisu, watching as his thumb came up to wipe the powdery dust it had been sprinkled with from the edge of your mouth, but a frown was still sitting on his features. “Hey, you’re the one who wouldn’t share. Besides, it wasn’t so low back in May when you stuck your hand up my skirt while we were playing pool at the bar, huh?”

His eyes flashed over for a second, remembering the moment clearly. He’d been losing, the two of you having snuck into one of the bars on campus and gotten a little tipsy, and after boasting just how good he was at the game, to be losing to you in his hazy state, and as you’d leaned over the table, he’d stood behind you, fingers pinching your clit roughly through your panties and making you fall forwards onto the table, a cry on your lips as you lost the game. It had led to some pretty amazing sex when you’d made it back to his flat, though.

“Besides, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” He mumbled, watching you switch between dishes once his was empty, his jaw hanging open as he waited for you to serve him up a piece of the apple pie. His hand came down to rest on your thigh, holding you close to him as the two of you happily shared out the foods, before falling into comfortable silence.

It was whispers about anything and everything you could think of, nothing too deep, simply making passing comments about what you’d been up to, small talk that would usually come along via your video call dates. His sister had come and gone, crawling up into your lap to sit with you for a while, more than happy to fill the silence as you asked her about what she and the other kids were up to, before she was running away again to chat with her friends.

The conversation went on, chatter about college, updates on all the extra work you’d been doing that had prevented either of you from being able to make any trips in the last few months, straining the long-distance relationship that you were already sharing. First-year had breezed by, being easy enough that since last Christmas, the two of you had made plenty of time to visit one another, meeting up halfway between or making the full trip for the weekend, but second-year had come down hard, and had been kicking your asses.

You moved yourself, his arm settling behind your chair so that your head could fall to his shoulder, one arm slung over his waist, and tiredness began to creep in. You could suppress it for a while at first, holding in your yawns, and being able to follow the stories he was spinning for you, updating you on everything that his friends - both college and at home - had been up to, soft laughs on your lips with each adventurous tale he shared.

Eventually, though, he had caught on, going quiet as he let you fall into a half daze, the hand behind your body moving to stroke over your shoulder, comforting and warm as he just held you there.

“You falling asleep on me, sweetheart?”

“No, no. I’m totally awake. I’m here to spend time with you.” Your words were a little mumbled from sleep.

“Yeah, sure you are.” He teased, jousting you on his shoulder, and you groaned, but sat up, shaking your head to clear it before blinking your eyes into the lights again, trying to readjust.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little tired.” He only nodded his head, watching as you stood up on shaky legs, and following behind you. “My parents are going to be here all night. I can just tell.” You glanced over at them, finding them sitting around one of the tables, chatting away happily with no signs of stopping any time soon, and Dave slipped an arm around you, directing you over to where his mother was and showing you that he was in the exact same boat. “Come get my coat with me?”

He nodded, following after you, and lifting it down to help you pull it up your arms, booking yourself a cab as he tied your scarf around your neck for you, making sure you were nice and cosy.

Another yawn was pulling at your lips, and the second it was finished, he was offering you a soft kiss, one that you barely had the energy to return as you began to slip closer to just passing out in your exhaustion. Time zones were a real bitch, you were getting the short end of the stick with jetlag, but it was all worth it.

“You know, I could come with you? We could stay at my place, tonight?”

“I should probably stay in my own bed for the first night back, don’t you think?”

The cold was enough to make you gasp loudly as you stepped into the night air, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than you had a moment ago as your breath clouded in the air, making you shiver, sticking your hands into your coat pockets as you moved down to the curb to wait for your taxi to arrive. Seeing headlights coming around the end of the road, you could barely make it out, but suspected it to be your vehicle, and you rocked up onto the tips of your toes to steal another kiss from him, his lips working against your own just as eagerly. Licking along his lower lip, he parted them for you with a soft moan, tongues tangling together, his hands finding your waist and pulling your body flush up to his own, keeping you close.

It was a kiss that was long overdue, finally getting a real moment alone together, nobody around, no crowds, just the two of you for the first time in months, and you were looking forwards to much more time with him like this over the holidays, and beyond it. One of the hands on your waist was now sliding up, tangling into your hair as his head tipped to the side, stealing deeper access to your mouth, before pulling away for breath only a moment later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place?”

“Tempting. Very tempting.” You mumbled, letting him lean in for further kisses as he laughed softly, the innuendo in his words not being missed but slipping way as irrelevant, and the squealing of tires pulling up only a few metres away told you that your assumptions had been correct, your taxi waiting patiently, phone buzzing in your pocket to confirm it.

“I could make you breakfast if you did.”

“How about you take me out for breakfast on Boxing Day morning? I’ll finish my unpacking and we’ll go for an early morning date.” He sighed, nodding his head and walking over to the car with you, reaching down to open the door.

“Fine, Boxing Day breakfast date it is. But only if you promise that it’s a lunch date and dinner date, too. I want you for the whole day.” He pulled it open, letting you step down from the sidewalk and settle into the seat, closing it and leaning against the open window as you smiled up at him.

“All-day date, you got it.”

“Call me tomorrow?” He questioned, not wanting to hold you up much longer as the driver waited, politely turning up the radio a little as the glass stayed closed, giving you both privacy.

“Of course, I have to wish my man a Happy Christmas, right?”

“It’s much happier now you’re home.” He leaned in, pecking your lips one final time, before stepping away from the car, and sticking his hands into his pockets, the car revving to life a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You nodded, blowing him a kiss and rolling the window back up, the car setting off on its journey.

This wasn’t like last year, where Dave had been waiting in unknowing anxiety as to whether he was even going to see you again. This year, he was filled with confidence, enjoying the part around himself instead of sulking in a corner, because this year, he was happy. You’d texted him a half-hour ago to tell him you were almost ready, and that you’d be on your way over soon, and he was anticipating the arrival of his girlfriend with joy.

He’d allowed his mother to introduce him to as many people as she wanted to, mingling and socialising as she willed him to, until finally, he’d been left along in peace to get a drink. He was now standing still staring down at his phone as he lurked near the dining table, the chairs dragged away into the living room and the wood pushed up to the wall, laid out with food and snacks, and just waiting for you.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt him jump, before your hands were connecting over his middle and he was dropping a hand down to cover yours. His other shifted around between you, tucking his phone into his pocket, before turning in your arms to take you in. Before he did, he leaned down, pressing a careful kiss to your lips as not to smudge the makeup you had done, a fresh layer of lipstick sitting on pouted lips, and he hummed happily as you squeezed yourself in a little closer to him.

“Missed you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, trying to kiss him through it and whining when he pulled back, but shaking his head, feeling mischief coarse through your veins. “You saw me yesterday. And the day before that, and before that, pretty much all week. Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“I’m never going to get sick of you, baby.” His hands found your cheeks, tipping you back a little bit as your smiles were pressed together, ruining what would have been a romantic kiss, but you couldn’t contain your joy, cheeks aching as you tried to straighten it. “You look pretty.”

His hands slipped down to find yours, holding you out before him and dropping one, lifting the other to twirl you around in the golden wrap dress that you were wearing, a low whistle on his lips, and he tugged a little at the belt around your waist, raising his brows as the material gaped open a little with your movements, exposing your thigh to him as the hem of the dress at around the middle of your calves.

“This is new.”

“I bought something special for the night, I wanted to feel good.” He grinned, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder, before placing both of his own on your waist, nibbling on his lip as he looked at you. “You scrub up pretty damn good yourself, Davie. All black suit, looking hot.”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you back in for another kiss, groaning as the song in the room changed. Your lips were just brushing his, before his mother was darting straight through the room, calling his name loudly, and he sighed, pulling back from you to look up and find his mother, who was trying to shoulder her way through the crowds towards him.

“This is your song, Dave!”

“It’s not my song, this is just a song you play every year and make me dance to because I danced to it once in a middle school play.” His mother took no notice, rolling her eyes and grabbing onto his arm, trying to drag him away. He gripped onto your hand, forcing you to follow him along, until you could see Stella, tearing up the dance floor with the sugar rush she was currently holding, an upbeat song playing over the speakers and vibrating through the floors.

The part was reaching its full mass, the place absolutely teeming with people, far more than should be able to fit into a house like this, even if the gardens were open too, despite the cold weather, and yet there was still a spot cleared on the dance floor for him. His mother had found a dance partner, Stella was dancing with two of her friends in a crazy trio, and Dave was holding his hand out to you, wiggling his brows as the song progressed on. He didn’t give you a chance to mull it over, taking your hand and pulling you into him, your chest crashing into his, before he was positioning you to be able to dance.

“This is the worst song in the world.” You teased, bodies around you moving just as fervently, and he nodded his head, before the lyrics were belting out of him, shouted at the top of his lungs, and you were giggling as he twirled you around. “I am not dancing to this.”

“You have to!” He insisted, still trying to get you to move with him, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other connected with your own, holding it up in a waltz style pose, despite the fact that you’d never be able to waltz to this kind of pop.

“Says who?” Your laughter broke out again as he dipped you backwards, spinning you around, your bodies bouncing a little as you moved to the beat, and you couldn't deny that it was catchy, your feet beginning to move along with his, and the smile on his face only widened as you did.

“Says the laws of being my girlfriend. You have to dance with me, always, even if you think I’m embarrassing you.”

He let out a loud cheer, just to draw attention to you both again, but the smile on his face made it worth it all as you danced with him again. Your inhibitions were slipping away, heart beating rapidly in your chest and laughs drowned over the sounds of the music as you twirled around the room, almost bumping into other people on the dance floor as they joined in. The heat was building, your cheeks flushing as his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, the song seeming to go on forever, and yet, you couldn't find it within yourself to care, because the moment felt perfect.

When the music finally ceased, you slumped against him, letting him catch you as the two of you panted, a few stray hairs sticking to your forehead for the exertion of the activity, and he laughed breathlessly, holding you up as the funky hip hop tunes continued on, the more tame songs would come along later in the night when only the adults were left, the kids still making the most of the evening.

Looping your arms around his neck, he smirked, hands finding your waist, as the two of you rocked slowly to the upbeat song that was playing, a smile finding your lips when his forehead came down to rest against your own. “So, later on, will you save me a real dance? When the slow songs are playing?”

“Who says I slow dance?”

“The laws of being my boyfriend.” He chuckled at your use of his words against him, before he was dipping down to press a kiss to your lips, sighs sounding from both of you at the chaste connection. “You’ll have to get used to slow dancing with me, Davie. As you said, all our friends are starting to grow up, getting engaged and throwing parties, and I’m going to want to slow dance.”

He nodded his head, spinning you out form his body and twirling you around, before he was bringing you back into his body, a smirk on his lips and mischief flashing across his eyes. “Who says you’re my date?”

“Oh, you got someone else?” You took the bait, gasping falsely as he grinned wider, a cocky look on his face as he held you once again, swaying you in his arms before dipping you backwards, lifting your thigh onto his hip for only moment, and when he pulled you back up, you were even closer than before.

“You know you’re my one and only, baby.”

You leaned up, mouths brushing together again. “Mhm, I better be.”

He closed the gap, teeth scraping over your lower lip at a more passionate connection, sucking on your lower lip slightly, enough to make you moan out a little under your breath,  and his hands tightened on your body. The dancing you were enjoying had become more like swaying, no longer focused on the movements of your feet or the tune of the music, but just on one another.

Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp lightly as his fingertips dug into your waist, all but burning through the material of your dress, making you feel like flames were consuming you from the inside out. You’d never felt this way with a guy before, Dave mad you feel cherished and loved, everything you always wanted, without ever having to ask, he was perfect for you. He accepted every flaw and rumple, and he never made you feel anything less than beautiful.

You wanted to live in this moment with him forever.

It was short-lived, unsurprisingly, before the two of you were being pulled apart once again to mingle, your mother wanting to introduce you to people and show you off, telling them all about your big university plans, and Dave being forced to help his mother host, the hours of the night passing by.

You were moved from group to group, the same questions being asked every single time, repeating the answers like a script you’d learned as you recited facts about your course, and told them what you liked, and what you thought would be improved on. You were asked about your college experience and the campus, and everything that the middle generation could possibly think of. You were sick of college, you were sick of being asked about how hard it was to be away from your family and friends, or whether it was liberating and gave you your freedom. You didn’t want anything but to enjoy being home, to hear about what you’d missed out in, instead of being interrogated about your life.

You managed to escape from the conversations, hiding away in the corner and letting out a sigh, eyes closing for a second as you tried to steal a moment to yourself, your phone buzzing in your bra from where you had stored it, no pockets or a bag, and just as you reached for it, there was a voice calling your name once again, and you wanted to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to stop a scream of frustration from leaving you.

A blonde head of hair was bobbing towards you, leaving the group within which her date was wowing a collection of the locals with his information on music and his up and coming cat-food album. Aubrey Miller, somebody you had formed a begrudging allegiance with over this last year, the girl constantly messaging you on Facebook, commenting on your Instagram posts and retweeting you, and so you’d simply accepted that she was going to be a part of your life. Besides, you never wanted to feel like the jealous ex, because you weren’t and you knew Dave loved you, but sometimes it irked you how she always seemed to be around at the most inconvenient of times.

Your phone buzzed again, but she was taking both of your hands in hers, squeezing tightly and laughing as though something had been said. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!”

“Yep, that’s right.” You managed to muster a somewhat enthusiastic tone, unsure of how you did it, but she seemed to breeze on over it, charging straight into her next topic. “How is life at college? It’s so far away!”

“Can we talk about something other than college? I’ve been talking about it all evening.”

She paused, chuckling for a second, before nodding her head. “Sure, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about my new place yet! I’m having a house warming party, and I wanted to invite you. Dave and his family will be there, of course.” You ground your teeth a little, smiling through it as she spoke on behalf of your boyfriend, but knowing that deep down you were just a little frazzled because of the night.

“Sounds fun, I’ll be there.”

“Great, it’s in just a few days, I can send you the details!��� You only nodded and smiled, glancing around the room to try and catch sight of your lover, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Besides, it’ll be nice for you and Dave to have some more quality couple time together, I know how lonely he’s been feeling lately.”

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes snapping back to her own as your brows furrowed, narrowing a little as you looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, gosh, no.” Her eyes widened, shaking her head as she realised how her words had come out. “I know what that came out as, but I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I hear some things, and he said some stuff earlier tonight.”

“Like what?” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at her, insecurities beginning to creep in.

“Well, I’m the only one still around here, so I talk to the parents a lot. His mom is really proud of him, and of you. She loves you, she talks about you both every book club, but Dave just misses you a lot. He tells her, she spills it to us, that's all. She likes me, but only as a friend. She never liked me the way she likes you, like you’re her own daughter.” You smiled a little at that, warmth blossoming in your chest at the idea of being welcomed so wholly into his family. “I was talking to him earlier tonight, just before you arrived, his mom was grilling him about moving out and making moves, plans for his life, y’know?”

“Yeah, he told me about that.”

“Well, did he tell you the part where he just felt alone, because he never got to see you? I like you, I admire you, I really do, but Dave is my friend. I’m not still in love with him, I’m in love with Ronnie, but him and I went through a hard time and Dave was there for me during that time. I want to be there for him, too.” You were suspicious once again, somehow feeling like you weren’t going to like what was about to come from her. “It’s Christmas, and you’re here now, so clearly we’re on the same page, but I told him that I thought you should be here, because it’s the holidays. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I was just giving him the same real talk that he gave me when I couldn’t see the truth about Ronnie.”

“The truth? Are you trying to tell me that you told Dave you didn’t think I was good enough for him?”

“No, of course not! I just told him that I thought he should be thinking about why you couldn't be here, and whether you were growing too busy for him, and he should prepare himself before any more hurt came.” Your jaw clenched, and she cursed under her breath, seeming to realise that she still wasn’t getting her words right. “I’m messing this all up.”

“You think?”

She pursed her lips at your hissed out words, and you stiffened as you felt arms sliding around your waist, a chin hooking over your shoulder, and she excused herself, pointing over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowds, and you twisted around in the arms of the man who was holding you. “You haven’t been replying to my texts.”

“You feel alone?”

His face dropped, the smile disappearing, and eyes widening as he looked at you. “What?”

“You confessed to Aubrey and not me?” He looked panicked, freezing up before you, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to reassure him a little, not wanting him to bolt or get overly anxious. “You should tell me these things. I’m your girlfriend, if we’re having issues, I want to know about it.”

He held onto your hand, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, pressing kisses along them as he sighed. “We don’t have any issues at all, sweetheart. It’s just me being insecure and needy, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I just miss you a lot, but I know you’re busy.”

“I would make more time for you, though, if I knew you needed me.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be putting all your work aside, and you’d get more stressed than you already are, and I don’t want that.” Your heart warmed, watching him put your needs before his own, and you leaned up enough to bump your noses together. “I’m sorry, I just wish we had some more time together.”

“I know, but we will, okay? I promise, the future holds a lot of quality time for me and you.”

“It does?”

There was a hopeful tone to his voice that made your lower lip tremble a little, pressing a series of kisses to his lips that were for his assurance as well as your own, and he sighed happily at knowing you weren’t angry with him, kissing you back until you pulled away. “Wanna’ find a quieter? We can have some quality time.”

“Yeah?” He wiggled his brows a little, and you grinned, already knowing exactly where his mind had gone. “It’s loud in here. I keep getting pulled away to mingle. You know what I really want?”

“What do you want, honey?” You reached up, fingers smoothing through his hair, weaving through the strands as you tried to restyle the hair atop his head that was starting to flop back down into his forehead as the gel wore off.

“I just want to makeout with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve, like I should be able to. I’m young and horny, and my girl is hot, I don’t want to spend it away from her and socialising.” He huffed out the words, and you tried to cover up your laugh, raising your brows. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I’m remembering how we missed last year’s countdown, and your mom was furious about it, and she didn’t even know what we’d really done.” His lips parted a little as he remembered it, eyes glazing over as he went back to that moment, and his lips were beginning to curl up at the edges, pulling your body in a little closer to his own. “Stop that, I know where your mind is going.”

“You brought it up!”

“To prove to you that we have to stay here!” You laughed, and his hands ran a little further down your sides, pushing you closer to the wall, and your breathing hitched in your throat as his grip became tighter, body pressing into you as you were pushed up into the surface. “Dave..”

“We could be quick, back in time for the countdown. Nobody has to know.”

You shook your head, resistance beginning to fail as his nose nuzzled at the underside of your jaw, lips dragging over your skin teasingly, before he was pressing a soft kiss to the spot just below your ear that made you shake in his hold, your body betraying you as a tremor wracked along your body, making you arch up into him a little further.

“C’mon, kitten. You look so good tonight, and now you got me thinking about sex. What do you expect from me, when you’re here looking this good, and you’re all mine, huh?”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” You muttered, already preparing to cave in to his pleadings, before he was pinching at your ass roughly through your dress, snickering at the yelp you let out as he did, and he palmed roughly at the patch instead. As you released a little moan, his mouth closed over yours to silence you, a hot kiss as his tongue plunged into your mouth, tangling with your own without even a second’s hesitation.

You were putty in his hands, and you already know it. Clearly, he did too, because his hips were pushing into yours as he held you up to the wall, risking it all as people continued to wander around you, and it only took one o the more conservative neighbours or one of your parents to see for it all to be over, the two of you to be chastised like children again, taking you back to your youth, but you had absolutely no reservations when it came to him.

As you finally pulled back for breath, feeling his lips trace along your jaw, you nodded your head, giving in and telling him what he wanted to hear. “Okay, let’s go.”

He snapped up, lips a little swollen and eyes glossy, a look on his face that made your thighs clamp together and rub with need, and his gaze flickered down as he caught onto the action. Taking your hand in his, he dragged you away, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he heard you giggle, before making his way to the staircase. He went ahead of you, your feet barely having touched halfway up the set, before your eyes were closing in on the hoards of people upstairs, too.

It was twice as busy as it had been last year, the two of you having been able to sneak away to the empty upstairs, but even the corridors outside of his bedroom were busy, and as you finally pushed through the people to open the door, finding his bed piled high with coats, bags and purses.

“Of course.” He mumbled, practically hearing his mother’s voice yelling at him again for disappearing, a little task clearly done on purpose to ensure the two of you had nowhere to sneak off to this time, but he wasn’t giving up so easily. “Basement?”

You nodded, falling into step beside him, and chasing after him, adrenaline and excitement racing through your veins. There was always the risk of getting caught, there was last time too, but this was something else. Last time, you didn’t know what would come of it, it could've been a one-time thing, and so this one was all new kinds of thrilling. A year into your relationship, and you were making up for all the time that you had lost, searching for new excitement as you celebrated the time that had passed together.

As your fingers hooked onto the door to the stairs leading down, the light was already on, your stomach sinking, and the further down you went, the more kids you already found hanging out down there, a game of twister in play as thirteen year old girls all squealed and giggled, eyes wide as they stared at you while trying to balance.

You both mumbled your apologies for interrupting, backing your way out, and there was a pout on his lips as you returned to the main party. Leaning up, your body slumped into his, large hands smoothing over your back, before you were teasing the lobe of his ear with your teeth, a shudder rolling over his body as you did. “Don’t you have a treehouse?”

“Only if I can climb up the ladder behind you.”

“You’re going to get to see what’s up my skirt anyway.” You scoffed, and he only winked, the two of you stumbling out into the back garden dirty little jokes and exchanges as you poured out of the back door. There were considerably fewer people milling around the garden, the cooler temperatures making people prefer the indoors, and as you approached the treehouse, a muffled set of giggles caught your attention from the top of the ladder as you stood at the bottom.

An incredulous look flashed over your features at the idea that someone might have actually already beat you to that spot, and Dave groaned in frustration, kicking at the wood before him, and the ladder trampled a little from the force. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

He turned to look at you, frustration flicking across his face as disappointment set in, your shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, not sure what else to say, and the two of you began to trudge back inside. The backdoor way was blocked as you approached it, Dave’s hands clenching by his sides as he navigated you around to the side of the house, using the spare key to open the garage door, and knowing that there was a lock to the main kitchen from inside of it.

Sealing it up behind yourselves and replacing the hidden key, he navigated himself between his car and his mom’s, parked at alternating angles toward the kitchen, and an idea flashed through your mind.

“Dave!”

“Yeah?” His hand was sitting on the handle to the kitchen, ready to flick the lock on it open, light spilling out from the crack under the door.

“We’re alone.” He paused, and your arms motioned out around yourself, the chill of the room quickly making your hands clamp back up at your sides, and he seemed excited for just a second, before shivering himself.

“It’s freezing, and there’s nowhere to lay down.”

“Come over here and warm me up, then.” You smirked, leaning against the edge of his car next to the front, and his face lit up, hopping back down the steps towards you. Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you into his arms for just a second, before the cold metal of the car’s hood was pressing into you, making you gasp at the chill, his body taking place between your parted thighs.

It all became irrelevant, though, when his mouth collided with yours, slamming together with heated intensity, and all of that burning passion came rushing back. Hands were burning on your thighs, bringing your legs around to wrap at his waist, the material of your dress falling aside as the wrapped material fell open, rough palms dragging over the smooth skin.

One hand was sitting on his face, feeling his jaw moved under your own, sharp and smooth from where he’d freshly shaven, rough kisses making your lips sting as you pressed back with an equal kind of love, your other hands tingling in his hair. Your lungs were burning for oxygen, your head spinning the longer you prolonged the inevitable. Finally pulling back for breath, you dragged your mouth along his jaw, feeling the moan that rumbled up in his throat as you licked your way along the column, his pulse pounding beneath the skin as you kissed across that same spot.

He tipped his head back, letting you work longer, and when your lips came to meet the collar of the same dress shirt he wore, your hands slipped down to his shoulders, to his chest, nails scratching at the muscles underneath loft and he puffed up into your hold, before your fingers were finding the buttons.

“I love it when you wear smart shirts.” You mumbled, each space of skin exposed as you undid his shirt being pressed with a kiss from your lips, faint marks of your lipstick being left over his skin the lower you went, until you were untucking it from the belt around his waist, and leaving it to hand open. Goosebumps travelled over his skin when your nails scraped across the lightly defined muscles of his abs, red marks being left in your traces as you did, your fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He mumbled, fingers playing with the belt around your waist, the sequinned design making it harder for him to find the catch, but when it fell loose, he was quick to let it drop away to the floor, discarded as you pulled his belt free from his jeans. “You’re telling me that all that’s holding this whole dress shut is two buttons?”

His eyes were wide, nimble fingers undoing the button on the outside, and pushed the base of the dress open a little more, a smirk forming on his lips, before looking up to catch your eyes.

“Wearing my favourite panties, too, huh?”

“Not the matching bra, though.” Your words were whispered, a hoarse voice, and he licked over dried lips, before popping the final button and letting the material expose you to him fully. He hummed happily, two hands smoothing across your stomach, pushing you down until the cold metal of the car until you were laying back across it, large palms cupping at your tits and squeezing roughly.

You couldn't help the way you pushed up into his hands, a loud moan falling from you, and he shushed you quietly, bending at the waist to press a wet kiss to the spot just under your ribs, licking at the spot teasingly as he worked his way down and around your navel. “Keep quiet, baby, we don’t want anyone to come in here and see you with your legs wrapped around my head, do we?”

A single finger ran under the crotch of your panties, knuckle brushing over your clit, and you bit down on your lip to contain the whimper that such a feeling aroused within you, your hips bucking against his hand. He pulled back, snapping the edge of the lace garment against your folds, chuckling at the gasp you made when he did, before he was pushing them to the side. Holding them or of the way, dragging a finger across your slit, a happy sound produced from him as slick coated the tip of the digit, swirling with a filthy sound bouncing around the two of you as he did, sinking a single finger into your walls.

“So wet for me. I love getting this reaction out of you. What got you all worked up tonight, hm?” He was sinking further down, nipping along the indies of your trembling thighs, and despite the cold metal you were laying along, you were already burning up from the inside out, eagerly awaiting the moment in which his mouth would reach the place that you wanted it the most. “Was it the dancing? Or the outfit? Tell me what made you like this.”

He pumped the finger slowly, and your hands formed fists, nails digging into your skin as you found your first orgasm beginning to build rapidly within your stomach, guts winding up into a tightening coil and you tried to catch your breath just to be able to reply. “You did.”

“Mhm, I know that, but what specifically?” He pushed, dragging his tongue slowly over your centre, and you let out a loud cry, cutting it off halfway through by covering your mouth with your hand, eyes rolling back in your head as the pad of his tongue dragged slowly across your clit, electricity sparking across your body. “You can have what you want as soon as you use your words, kitten.”

“You did! Just you, nothing special. I just love you, you drive me crazy.” Your words were slurred and rushed out, but he paused for a second, his finger no longer pumping but instead curling within you, pad searching along your walls until he found the spot he was looking for, your entire body jerking at the stimulation with you.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dave, please! You know how I feel about you, stop teasing me now.” He nodded, pressing down once more on the patch within you that made you cry out, before he was pulling back, sinking to his knees entirely and giving you exactly what you wanted. A hot and wet mouth closed over your folds, tongue parting them and licking at everything that had already built up, teasing around your entrance as he slurped up what you had to give. Teeth dragged across your clit, enough of a sting to make you cry out into the cover of your hand, your eyes rolling in your head hips bucking up into his face, and he was more than happy to allow it.

Easing your thighs up onto his shoulders so he could move deeper, your legs clamping around his head with every motion he made, every shake of his head as he worked at your centre, lips sealing around the throbbing button nestled between your thighs to focus on the pleasure it brought you. Dave was skilled with his mouth, he’d known what he was doing since the very first time he’d gone down on you, but basic skills had become honed to your body, being able to read you, everything he did bringing you closer and closer to melting bliss.

Tears lined your eyes, squeezing shut to contain them as the simulations all became too much, and your other hand came down to thread into his hair, pulling roughly, your words muffled by the hand covering your mouth, and it became your only way of communicating with him. Fingertips were digging into the muscle of your thighs, holding you still as he dove into you, again and again, tongue lapping at every drop that came from you.

His tongue was plunging in and out of you, fucking you against the wet article as your keened up and into his hold, writhing against the hood of the car, speech becoming completely incomprehensible. Dave was by no means boring in bed, but there was always something exciting about the idea of fucking right when there was someone on the other side of a door, and right now there was a wheel party that might hear you scream Dave’s name, because as his tongue traced at your walls, lips and teeth teasing over your clit, alternating between where he wanted to please you the most, your arm was growing heavier and heavier, your climax teetering on the edge.

He knew it too, reading you like a book, pulling away and prying your legs from around his head before he was grabbing a hold of you and pulling you up to stand. Your legs buckled underneath you, almost falling away to the floor if it wasn't for his hands supporting you, a dark chuckle was sounding in your ear, a wet kiss placed to your cheek, before he was turning you around. Your hands pressed to the car, using it for support as he pressed up behind you, fingers dipping down and under the waistband of your panties.

He wasted no time, two fingers plunging into your already stretched out core, and just as a loud cry of his name left you, his other hand was skating up, over your throat, making your breathing hitch, before he was tipping your head back onto his shoulder. A thumb slipped into your mouth, and you sucked onto it, using the digits to muffle yourself as two fingers began to slam in and out of you.

It was oddly reminiscent, the amusement of the thought flashing across your mind for a split second, about just how comparative this was to New Years last year. Dave standing behind you, hand in your panties and cock straining into your ass as he prepared to fuck you senseless, except this time it wasn’t just lust, but love too.

As your peak came crashing over you, your eyes were rolling back in your head, shaking in his arms as he held you tightly, your underwear becoming far too uncomfortable as your juices slicked up his fingers, ruining the material as he kept going to rid you through it, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sensitive walls, the heel of his hand brushing over the swollen bud that fireworks explode within you.

When you finally couldn't take it anymore, he let you go, slumping down in an undignified manner across the hood of the car. Your dress was half hanging off of you, and you shucked the material down your arms and to the floor, feeling like you were burning alive in it now, skin covered with a thin layer of sweat from the heat building between you both, and your thighs were still twitching a little.

A hand came down roughly on your ass, and you jerked at the feeling, hissing out a curse to your boyfriend, and he didn’t reply, a more than proud and cocky look on his face as he palmed at the stinging skin.  

“We have two options.” He knelt down, fingers hooking into your panties, pulling them roughly down your thighs, until you could step out of them, and he pressed kisses all the way back up along your skin, until he was standing again. “Option one, I can fuck you over the hood, but you gotta’ keep quiet.” He pinched at your ass cheek, the one he’d laid a spank to, and you moaned, pushing back into his touch.

“And the other option?”

“Option two, you can ride me in the front seat, and scream as loud as you want.” You whimpered, managing to find enough strength to turn around to face him, fingers hooking into his belt loops and stand up a little further.

“I like option two.” You whispered your response against his mouth, lips brushing together, and he could only nod, tongue flicking out to lick at your mouth a little, spreading the taste of you to your own lips until it was smeared there. He reached behind you, pressing up to you until you fell backwards, and he opened the door, stepping away from you with a wide smirk and half-lidded eyes.

Tugging open the front of his jeans, the zipper grated angrily as it came undone, and he palmed at himself through the thick material, thumbs hooking into the waistband to push both the denim and the cotton of his underwear beneath it down, a dripping and flushed red cock springing up, slapping against his stomach and leaking with shining precum, bobbing in the cool air, a sight that made you legs clench together tightly.

Collapsing down into the passenger seat, he patted at his thighs, tempting you forwards while rummaging through the dash box, finding one of the emergency condoms that the two of you kept hidden in his car at all times, and tearing the little packet open as you settled across his lap, cramped into the chair. As he rolled the rubber along his length, pumping himself slowly, and you cranked back the lever on the seat to push it backwards.

As he laid down you were granted more pace, hair falling around the pair of you like curtains, hiding the meshing of your lips as your hands found a home on either side of his shoulders to support the weight of you above him. His hands were on your hips as you sank down, rolling yourself along his length, the head of his cock dragging through your folds and pushing with a delicious friction against your button every single time.

Finally, when the tension became too much, he shifted, hips bucking up and into you, the head of his cock sinking within your walls, and he reached one hand out to find the car door, pulling on it and slamming it shut, before bucking his hips up the rest of the way inside of you. Your arms trembled, almost dropping you down onto him as the pressure of his cock within you stretched you to your limits, filling you up perfectly just as he did every single time, his name spilling from you in a drawn-out whine as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“That’s right, baby, call my name. Tell the world who makes you feel this good.”

“Dave!” He leaned in, sitting you up a little in his lap and helping you start to make rhythms with your hips, lips closing around one perky nipple. Your fingernails were dragging marks into the pale flesh of his shoulders as you held on for dear life, his mouth working over your chest with the same vigour and determined enthusiasm that he’d used to assault your core. “Fuck, Dave!”

The head of his cock was pressing up to that spot within you that made everything go fuzzy, the world melting away until it was just the two of you left. As you grew more in your confidence, the simple circling and rocking of your hips became more, you became bold enough to lift yourself up, slamming yourself back down onto him, and he switched to your other breast, equal treatment being shared across your body.

“Oh, my God. You’re so fucking good..” Your words were whined out, and you couldn't wait for the morning, when you’d wake up with that ache between your legs, body littered with fading bites and bruises made out of love, and he was beginning to thrust his hips up a little into you. For every movement that he made to meet you, another fizz of electricity and excitement raced through your veins, another moment here your entire body lit up with sunshine and fireworks just for him, because he took you to heights of pleasure that you’d never before experienced.

“Louder, kitten. Scream louder for me, like I know you can.”

He licked over the pad of his thumb, slipping the hand between your bodies, and pressing down roughly on the already overstimulated bud that was throbbing and desperate for attention with every brush across the hair-smattered skin at the base of his cock. “Dave!”

“Louder!”

Two fingers pinched at your clit, and your head was thrown back, eyes welling with tears at the joy of pain that made you unravel once again, nails ripping marks into his skin as you quivered on top of him, his name leaving your lips in a loud scream like a mantra. The windows were fogging up, the heat becoming unbearable around you both, and yet it still felt perfect, the two of you boiling in hell as you roasted within the weight of your sins; filthy and reckless, utterly debaucherous as you stole yet another chink of one another’s innocence with each dirty act.

You couldn't help it, the need that washed over you, the easy way that every time you were with him felt addictive never wanting to pull away, no matter how spent you became, because chasing a high with home was just too good to pass up on.

Your forehead pressed to his, skin slick and sliding together with sweat, and you slammed yourself back onto him, riding him for everything that you were worth, and from the way he was beginning to shake and quiver underneath you, you could tell that he was nearing a peak that would make his eyes roll back in his head the same way yours did.

“Always so damn tight, so good for me. Perfect, baby, all mine.” He was babbling, the same way he always did when he was nearing his climax, and your walls were fluttering around him, never once taking a break, chasing up both of you final crashing downs. You felt like you’d been electrified, and he planted his feet on the floor, arms circling your waist to pull you down until your legs were folded against the chair, chests pressed together, and he could buck up without restraint into you.

You were boneless, feeling like you’d become nothing but jelly, your throat raw as you cried out his name, eyes crossing at the feeling of how deep he could reach within you, and all that you could hear was the sounds he made, low growls and grunts, cracking voice as he moaned your name and a slew of praises, and your heart beating in your ears.

Your blood was rushing, heart threatening to explode entirely for you both, racing and banging against your ribs.

“Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” You whispered, unable to muster up anything else, and as you came undone for the final time, the clenching of your walls dragged him along with you. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, only dragging out the feelings you were experiencing, and you felt as though you’d blacked out for a moment as your vision spotted, everything within you going numb, except for all the places where you were joined to him, hands on your waist and cock buried inside of you.

“Yes, kitten, fucking hell!”

“I know!” You squeaked, the aftermath of your orgasm making you twitch and clench around him, and he groaned, squirming at the overstimulation and lifting you off of him, pacing you down into the driver’s seat.

The windows were fogged up, marks streaked across the glass as you wiped them clear, and you reached across, opening one of the doors and sighing happily at the cool breeze that swept across your body. There was a chafing sting along the backs of your thighs from the denim that was still bunched tightly around his upper legs, and he cringed as he peeled back the condom that was still wrapped around his softening cock.

You tried to move, tingling sensations spreading the whole length to the tips of your fingers and toes as you tried to wiggle some kind of feeling back into them, sitting up a little as you made attempts to regain control of your body, and your elbow recessed into the horn, a scratch sounding from you as it sounded out loudly. Your boyfriend jumped too, loud barks of laughter leaving him as you did, and you almost joined him, before panic was washing over you both, heads snapping over to the garage door that connected to the kitchen, fear making your blood turn to icy cement in your veins.

When nobody came through, he turned to shoot out a mock glare, slapping at your thigh lightly. Lifting his hips up awkwardly, he managed to tug his jeans back up, searching around for his shirt and finding it discarded on the floor, unaware of when he’d even taken it off, but finding it messed up alongside the various garments that you had been wearing too.

“Think we should go back?”

“Probably.” He sighed, leaning over the centre console for a kiss, lips puckered and a hand landing on your cheek to pull your mouth down to his, delicate and sweet as he made the most of the final moments.

When you felt like you might be able to stand up without falling, you removed yourself from the car, the temperatures having dropped as you came down, and the chill of the crisp December air was making goosebumps rise through your skin. He was messing with his belt when you finally had your panties back on, your dress on your arms but hanging open, the same way his shirt was, and he closed up the car doors, chuckling at the way you wobbled as you buttoned your dress back up.

His hands found your hips, mouth coming back to claim your own, smeared lipstick making his pale skin stand out even more, and you giggling against his mouth, the rubbing of his thumbs through your dress was soothing and relaxing, bringing you back down to earth from the cloud nine that he’d taken you to, and you did up the buttons along the front of his shirt, trying to get them right without looking, but in your haze, the task was too hard, and you dragged your lips from his kiss to be able to check the task.

He smoothed down your hair for you, grinning at the messed up state that it had become, and you ran a finger around the edges of your lips to clear away the smeared lipstick that was now just a mess on both of your mouths, and you were glad that it had already begun to fade somewhat before this had all taken place.

He licked at his own lips, making sure the colour you’d printed onto him was gone, and when you finally judged yourselves to be appropriate again, or as appropriate as you were going to get, he opened the door for you both to reenter the house. The kitchen was warmer, and while you’d adjusted to the difference in temperature while Dave’s body had been pressed up to your own to keep you warm, you were glad to be back into the heated room. The doors were all closed now, the crowds having thinned, parents with younger children or older parents leaving, and yet there were still enough people that you managed to slip back into the party without being noticed as absent.

“See? Fifteen minutes ‘til the countdown. We’re just in time.”

Champagne flutes had been laid out along the island in the kitchen, all filled up perfectly, and Dave had two in his hands, passing one over to you, and you clinked them together, fingers weaving and palms pressed or one another’s as you walked into the rest of the house. The music had quietened, and the television had been turned on, the countdown displayed prominently on the screen as the final few minutes began to tick down, and Dave’s mother was making the rounds with a bottle of champagne to top up the glasses of anybody who needed it, always laying the perfect hostess.

Taking a small sip of the liquid in your glass, you winced slightly, but swallowing it anyway. It wasn’t your drink of choice, and you weren’t particularly keen on it, but since the two of you were not only celebrating the new year, but celebrating your anniversary, you were indulging in something a little classier. Dave’s hand was sitting low on your waist, letting you curl into his side, the night plodding on, and Stella and her friends were sprawled out on the couch, all looking absolutely exhausted, trying their very vest to keep their eyes open for long enough to see the countdown.

Now that it wasn’t as busy, you could see the extent of the mess left by the party, food trays and empty platters stacked high on the dining table, plastic cups and paper plates all over the room, both floors and surfaces, and there was enough leftover food and crumbs that it would probably fill a bag all on its own. Party poppers had been set off by the younger children before their parents had taken them home, leaving confetti and streamers on the floor, among the shredded remains of popped balloons and lost belongings. It was a catastrophe, and yet somewhere within yourself, you still couldn't wait until it is you hosting the party, getting to play that role.

A squeeze at your side brought you back to reality, dragging you from your thoughts, and you looked up to your boyfriend, finding him nodding his head towards the television, just as the timer clicked over onto one minute left, everybody beginning to crowd into the room just to see the screen, and you once again found yourself surrounded on all sides.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, baby?”

You thought about it, unsure yourself as to what it actually was, nibbling on your lower lip a little, before letting out a sigh. “I suppose it would just be to complete this school year to the best of my ability, and to start journaling, because I keep wanting to do that and never get around to it.” He chuckled at the addition, watching as you pouted to yourself for only a moment, before you were turning your attention back to him. “What about you?”

“Same as every year; just to make every moment count. To make good memories.”

You giggled a little, a countdown beginning to start around you as the numbers on the clock hit twenty, and you rolled your eyes slightly, coming to stand before him more clearly. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe, but it’s worked out pretty well for me so far.” His nose bumped against your own, and as the final countdown hit, your eyes were fluttering shut, whispering the figures as they dropped lower and lower, sinking into that same bubble that consisted of only you and he, until his lips were pressing to yours with the number one, a warm and loving kiss, his arm squeezing around you even more tightly than it had been and pulling you up into his chest, your free hand resting over his jaw, thumb stroking lightly across his skin, before settling to sit just behind his ear.

There was loud cheering, shuffling and celebrating, your bodies being jostled as hands landed on your shoulders in pats of congratulations and celebrations, but you paid them no mind, instead simply being focused on the way that it felt to kiss the man you loved as the year clicked over, welcoming you both into your second year of being in a relationship, and being in love.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed an equally adoring kiss to your cheek, and you could feel his smile pressed against you, the last scents of his fading cologne washing over you as you were shifted into a hug, feeling his cheek pressing against your temple. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Davie.”

You knew that you should call your parents and wish them the same, and that you should begin to acknowledge all the friends and family that were surrounding you, but for one more selfish moment, you wanted to absorb the time you had with him. When he pulled back, it was to clink your glasses together, one eye dropping in a cheeky wink, before the pair of you were downing what was within your glasses, trying to school the appalled looks on your faces as the taste trickled down your throats, fizzing and making itself known, before it as finally gone.

“Go and find your mom and your sister, I’ll call my parents, and I’ll find you afterwards.”

He only nodded his head, a final peck pressed to your lips, before he was disappearing through the crowds to find them.

You managed to find a quiet corner, pulling out your phone and calling your mother to wish both her and your father a happy New Year, and listening to them talk all about how they’d spent their own evening, bickering playfully about the movie they’d watched and the conversations they’d had, before bidding you a goodnight and telling you to use the spare key to let yourself in, as they’d locked the door, and were on their way to bed.

It was almost fickle how quickly the masses began to clear away. Once they’d had their midnight celebrations and welcomed in the turn of the year, they were already all beginning to leave, cars along the street roaring to life and taxis being called to ferry the more drunken patrons to their addresses, and the people around you were beginning to dwindle.

It wasn’t all that hard to find your love, his height and hair giving him away, messy locks standing out in the crowns of middle-aged neighbourhood women that had gathered around him and his little sister to coo at them and wish them the best, his face flushed a little pink as his eyes finally connected with your own, a look in them that screamed for help.

You hesitated, allowing him to be fussed over for a moment later, before finally, you took pity on him, moving in towards the group and taking the hand that he had outstretched for you. The neighbours didn’t like you nearly as much as they liked him, because he was the ‘handsome young man’ that they wanted to set up with their nieces and grand-daughters, but you were just the polite young lady who had taken that chance away. They favoured Dave greatly, and you weren’t surprised at all, because you favoured him too.

He was honest, well-mannered, funny, and a real sweetheart. His fingers laced with yours, letting you pull him away from the groups, and he followed after you, feet kicking through discarded rubbish on the ground. A yawn was pulling at your lips, and you covered it with your hand, trying to shake your head clear as tiredness crept in.

“Do you want a lift home?”

“I’ll call a cab, you’re just as tired as I am.” You mumbled, and he nodded his head, leaning down to be able to press his forehead to yours as your eyes fluttered shut. “Let me go and grab some bags, and we’ll start getting this place tidied up a bit.”

“Leave it ‘til the morning.” He grumbled, hands locking on your hips to hold you steady, and you laughed softly into the space between you both.

“You’ll hate it in the morning if you do.” You took his hands, stepping away backwards, and pulling him along behind you as you tugged him into the kitchen, leaving him to lean against the counter while you found a couple of new bin bags, and pressed on into his hands. “If you clean up the whole kitchen while I do the living room, the next time we go out to eat, I’ll let you choose where we go.”

“That is a backhanded deal, because you know that you’ll complain and we’ll still go to your place.”

You shrugged, a cheeky grin on your face as you pecked his lips swiftly, barely giving him a chance to reply. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for loving me.”

“Oh, that’s what I get, huh?” He mocked, grinning as you walked away, and beginning to focus on the kitchen-connected-dining room, sweeping trash into the bag, and you made your way through to the main room. Dave’s mother was bidding farewell to the last of her guests, and Stella was fast asleep on the couch, curled up in her favourite party dress and what seemed to be every single sparkly necklace she owned.

When the door finally closed, you heard the relieved sigh that Dave’s mother let out, and you chuckled, turning to face her upon clearing the top of the television cabinet, no more plastic cups, plates and waste to go into it, and she grinned through her exhaustion as she saw you.

“You shouldn't be doing that, darling, that’s my job.”

“It’s no trouble. I even managed to wrangle Dave into doing the kitchen.” You teased, and she looked completely shocked just at the thought, before you were sharing tired laughs.

She held the bag open, and you grabbed every piece of litter you could find, and you were certain that while the room might look clear now, it would probably be littered with missed pieces of crap in the morning, when fresh eyes after a goodnight’s sleep were cast over it, but you were sure that the Hodgman’s would be able to handle it, especially with the head-start that you were giving them.

With the two of you working together, you managed to clear the halls and closets too, leaving everything empty as far as you could, by the time Dave came to collect the bags, and take them outside to the trash cans. Taking another one, you began to clear upstairs, finding it much tidier than it had been downstairs, only one bag’s worth of rubbish to be thrown out, and you took this one yourself, Dave trying to cover his tiredness as he swept the floors, glitter and confetti cleared from the solid oak floorboards until they were visible once again.

Stella managed to sleep through it all, drooling onto a pillow as she lay half-propped up, and your heart beat just for the sweet little girl, loving her as much as you’d love a little sister. Taking out the last of the litter, the bins were overflowing, the old year being ushered out by plastic and bottle, and you tried to shove it down, dusting off your hands when you finally made all the bags fit. The streetlights were yellowed and dull, making you realise just how late it had gotten and how tired you really were, the stars twinkling overhead and lulling you back into the sleepy haze you’d left behind to clean.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed at your skin, trying to warm back up as you wandered up to the house, letting yourself in and leaning back against the door as you let out a deep sigh. Dave was making his way up the stairs, carrying his snoozing baby sister, and you watched him go, until he was disappearing from your view along the corridor.

“You okay, sweetie?’

You jumped a little, snapping over to look at his mother, who was watching fondly from the doorway, a nostalgic look on her face as her hands sat on her hips, and you shrugged a little. “Just tired. Thank you for a lovely evening, Mrs Hodgman. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

She scoffed, waxing a hand as she made her way towards you, and leaning behind you to flick the locks on the door, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re never a bother. You’re welcome to stay, and Dave can get you all sorted out.”

“Well, I can take the couch and just sl-”

“Oh, honey, I’m a mom, not a nun. You’ve been dating my son for a year now, I’m certain you and my son have shared a bed before, so sharing a bed won’t be an issue tonight.” Your face flared up with heat and you gaped at her, watching as she flicked off the remaining lights around the both of you. “You can stay over, I’ve already left your parents a message to explain. There’s no way I could possibly send you home at this time of night and feel at all like a responsible mother.”

She was walking up the stairs ahead of you, leaving you to stand alone in the darkness with heated cheeks and amused embarrassment coursing through your veins. Following her up the stairs, she slipped into her own bedroom, wishing you a goodnight before the door was clicking shut, and Dave was backing out of his younger sister’s room and turning off the light. He jumped a little as he found you sitting on his bed when he turned around, eyebrows shooting up a little, and he stepped into his bedroom, a softening tired look on his features.

“I think your mom just gave me a version of ‘the talk’.”

“She did what?” He was equally mortified and amused, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the corner of the room, a hand closing behind his head to tug the material up and over his head, dropping it into the laundry bin in the corner.

“She said she knows we ‘share a bed’, and so tonight we can share a bed.” He snorted a laugh at your words, undoing the belt around his waist and leaving it abandoned on his desk, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

“That means you’re staying the night?”

“Yes, it does. You’d better find your best pair of sweats and a t-shirt for me.” He tapped at his drawers, undoing the button and zipper on his belt to be able to push them away down his legs, the denim pooling at his ankles, and your gaze followed them, a smirk on your face as he almost tripped over them while trying to get them off.

“You know where my clothes are, get them yourself.” He had a cocky look on his face, pulling a pyjama top on alongside his boxers and disappearing into the bathroom to clean his teeth.

It was a true statement, you knew exactly where all of his clothes lay, and you folded yours neatly to rest on his desk, finding a pair of sweats that hung baggy around your ankles and a t-shirt of his to wear, before allowing him into the bathroom. His hip bumped against yours, brush hanging from his mouth as he winked at you in the mirror, pulling a face a moment after, and almost making you gag on the mouthwash you had, chuckling to himself as you spat it away and cursed at him under your breath, and hot tap coming on.

He left you alone to remove your makeup, already curled up in bed with the covers pulled back when you entered the room, door closing behind you and light being flicked off, using memory alone to guide you to where you knew he to be laying.

When you were all tucked in around him, feeling him chuckle at the shuffling you did to get comfortable, you finally settled with facing him in the dark, his hand running up and down over your sides as you adjusted yourself, one leg slung over his, and the minty taste of his breath lingering on your tongue as noses brushed together, sharing a pillow.

“I like this.”

You hummed, eyes closing a little, your hand coming up to find his, bringing it away from your side to instead clasp it between your bodies, and you dipped your head down to press a kiss to the fingers joined with yours. “Sharing a bed?”

“Well, yes, but other things. Getting to see you as much as I have this week, it’s been incredible. I’ve seen you almost every day, and I’d have you by my side even more than that if I could. Going back to college is going to suck.” You squeezed at his hands tightly, a spark of excitement running through you, despite your sleepy state.

“I thought you loved your college? You always tell me such great things about it.”

“Everything else could be world-class, award-winning, and it’d still suck because you’re not there.” His words were slurred with sleep, and you let his hand fall down to rest on the mattress, your palm pressing over his heart, feeling it beat steadily and solidly under your touch.

“Well, that’s no fun, is it? I’m expecting you to show me all of the great things to do.”

He let out a huff of amusement, never shifting, but shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, if we ever get some free time during this year for you to come visit.”

“What if I didn’t just visit? What if I stayed?”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart, I might justice you down to the bed and refuse to let you leave.” He seemed to realise how his words had sounded, his body stiffening for just a moment, before breathy and quiet laughter was shared between you both, and he tipped his head up to press a long and slow kiss to your lips, both of you too lazy to really move, and so your lips played a lazy game together.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? You breaking up with me? Because it would be awfully awkward if you did, we’d have to sleep back to back, and I would much rather cuddle.” He used the arm slung over your waist to pull you in closer, until his chin could rest on the top of your head and he could pull you in enough that your legs tangled and your chests pressed together.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you weirdo.”

“Your weirdo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just listen to me, okay?’ He made a vague noise of agreement, going quiet despite the snickering that he was holding in, and you toyed with the material of his shirt, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to form words. “You know all the extra work I’ve been doing lately?”

“The work that’s been keeping you extra busy?” He sounded like he was pouting, a sulky voice, and you squeezed him a little tighter, not sure that you could get any closer to him if you tried, by now.

“It’s not been college work. Technically.”

“Extra credit?” He was half-asleep now, and you wanted to get this out before you lost him to sleep.

“No, transfer papers, and the likes.” You heard the sudden intake of breath that he too, body tensing up beside you, and then he was shifting a lot, pulling back and holding your face in both of his hands, more alert and awake than he had been for hours now. “There was a lot to do, I had class papers and catch-up assignments, and I still haven’t sorted out housing, but it went through. From now on we won’t have timezone struggles or differing social calendars, but our only problems would be different class schedules.”

“You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” You barely got your laugh out before his mouth was descending onto your own, a kiss that portrayed everything there was to say. Love, passion, adoration, gratitude, excitement, anything and everything that you could think of, feeling it all being conveyed.

This was exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for, you wanted him to be as thrilled as you were at the potential that the two of you would have, sharing a college as you moved to be closer to him, and there was a wetness to his cheeks as he twisted his head one gasping breath before he was dicing back in to kiss you again.

“I love you, Dave. I’m sick of being away from you.”

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, lips stinging as they pressed for his, trying to return the eager kisses that he was gifting to you. When you finally needed a real breath, you pushed him back, shushing his complaints and groaning as you did, twisting your body to rest your head on his shoulder, and he kissed along the top of your head, any space he could reach, before finally laying back down into the blankets and settling in for sleep. “Happy New Year’s to me.”

#dave hodgman #dave hodgman x reader #dave hodgman x reader smut #dave hodgman/reader #dave hodgman/reader smut #dave hodgman the first time #dylan obrien dave hodgman #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the first time

[bloody-bee-tea]

if you're still taking requests for november fics, could you write a fic where jc has social anxiety? maybe a modern au ... maybe he cries in public (which is Not good when you have social anxiety) if you decide to write this, thank you! :)

JC Love Month 2020 Day 8

Cliff

So not gonna lie, this totally got away from me, but I still give you JC with an almost debilitating social anxiety but the Nies are there for him yet again ;) Yes, I borrowed part of the plot from My Shy Boss, but I have only ever seen that one scene.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what‘s happening when Su She and Jin Zixun storm into his office and proceed to drag him out of it. He tries to tell them to stop, tries to break free, but they both have a very tight grip on him, and so all his struggles get Jiang Cheng nowhere.

There’s fear already settling into his gut and he doesn’t even want to think about what these two are going to do.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, sitting in your office all day, and never coming to presentations,” Su She sneers and Jin Zixun nods.

“Yeah, but guess what, pretty boy,” he says and then he laughs at his own joke.

Jiang Cheng thinks nothing about this is worth laughing about.

“Since you are always the one to make the presentations, you also get to hold it today! Isn’t that fun?” he wants to know and now Jiang Cheng struggles again.

He can’t hold a presentation. There’s a reason he’s in the most tucked away office, only working on preparing presentations and overseeing the paperwork and it’s because Jiang Cheng cannot speak to people.

Or in front of them.

“No—let go—,” he tries, but of course neither Su She nor Jin Zixun are listening to him.

It seems like his attempts to stop them only make them laugh more.

They are dragging him towards the conference room and Jiang Cheng goes ice cold with his panic.

He can’t be in front of these people. They will look at him and they will expect him to speak and when he doesn’t they will start to whisper and try to talk to him and Jiang Cheng cannot do this.

“Don’t,” he whispers, struggling in their grasp again, but the conference room is coming closer and closer, and Jiang Cheng’s heart is beating way too fast to be healthy.

“Have fun, pretty boy,” Jin Zixun tells him as he pushes the hood of Jiang Cheng’s pullover off his head and then they push him into the room.

Jiang Cheng stumbles over his feet but he eventually comes to a stop, right at the front of the table, and Jiang Cheng maybe should have simply let himself faceplant into the floor.

It would probably have been less humiliating than this.

There is another man at the front, who hands Jiang Cheng a microphone and Jiang Cheng accepts it out of reflex more than anything. His eyes are fixed on Su Shen and Jin Zixun who sat down in the sea of people by now and it’s only then that it hits Jiang Cheng how huge the room is.

And just how many people are staring at him.

He thinks he makes a surprised—or panicked—noise but he can’t actually hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears and for a split second Jiang Cheng thinks he’ll simply faint.

He doesn’t, sadly, and the people keep staring at him.

Someone started the presentation behind him, Jiang Cheng is dimly aware of that, and he thinks he’s supposed to speak, supposed to explain what the graphs and numbers mean, but Jiang Cheng can only stare at the mass of people in front of him.

“You should start,” the person who handed him the microphone says, and Jiang Cheng startles so badly he almost drops it.

“I—” he starts, but he can’t form words, can’t bring his tongue to do what he wants and even the thoughts in his head are all jumbled up.

“Give the presentation!” Su She yells and Jiang Cheng hones in on him, because at least he’s a familiar face in the sea of unknown people.

It doesn’t help much with calming down, because Su She is the reason he’s in this position in the first place and the other people are starting to mutter now, so Jiang Cheng drags his eyes away from him.

He’s shaking all over, his hand tightly clutched around the microphone and it feels like he’s dangling over a cliff, seconds away from falling, and at the moment the microphone is the only thing that stops him from falling.

“I—the com—I’m—” Jiang Cheng tries, but he can’t even finish half of his words, and he knows they wouldn’t come out in the right order either and now people are openly talking about him.

Someone is even pointing a finger at him and Jiang Cheng’s whole vision goes black for a moment. He can barely breathe, his breath coming in short and rapid gasps and he knows this is only going to accelerate the panic attack, but he can’t stop himself, can’t stop himself from shaking or stuttering, either, and he hears his father’s voice in his mind, telling him how stupid he is, how useless if he can’t even speak properly, and Jiang Cheng feels hot mortification slice through him when a tear rolls down his cheek.

He wants to run away, wants to get out of this room, but he’s rooted to the spot and he doesn’t know which way safety lies at all.

The voices in the room get louder and louder and Jiang Cheng thinks the moderator is saying something—probably urging Jiang Cheng to speak—but Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart through the room and he sees all eyes on him, knows that everyone is looking and talking and that it’s all about him because he’s the centre of attention and it’s all too much.

The tears are flowing more freely now, only adding to Jiang Cheng’s panic but he can’t seem to stop, can’t even seem to raise his hand to wipe them off, and it’s only when he tries that he realizes he was still holding on to the microphone, because it falls to the floor with a loud, discordant noise.

It only adds to the chaos and panic in Jiang Cheng and he thinks he might just throw up, here in front of everyone, when someone suddenly blocks his view.

Blocks Jiang Cheng from everyone else’s view, really, because the man is towering over him and he’s wide enough to act as a cover as well.

“Breathe,” a voice tells him and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath purely because the man told him to but it doesn’t seem like he’s satisfied because he instructs him to breathe again and again, his voice calm and measured, the time between his orders always the same.

It takes embarrassingly long before Jiang Cheng can manage to breathe on his own, but as soon as he does, the man ushers him out of the room, without another word to the assembled people. Jiang Cheng catches one last look at Su She and Jin Zixun before he leaves the room and their smug expressions makes him want to throw up on them but even the thought of stepping back into the room has Jiang Cheng hyperventilating again.

“Breathe,” the man reminds him again, one large hand on his back and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Good,” the man praises him and then leads him into another huge room, though this one is blissfully empty.

Jiang Cheng sees a couch inside the office and his feet carry him towards it without his conscious thought but when he reaches it he crouches down in front of it instead of sitting down on it, and he presses his forehead to the cushions.

His heart is still racing, and there are still tears in his eyes, the panic tightly gripping his heart and stomach and mind, and Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more than go home and curl up under his blanket.

“What do you need?” the man suddenly asks him, startling Jiang Cheng badly, because he had honestly forgotten that he wasn’t alone, and any resemblance of calm leaves him in an instant.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man immediately says, clearly picking up on the fact that Jiang Cheng is spiralling again and he takes a few steps back.

But then he seems to come to a conclusion because instead of backing further away, he suddenly marches up at Jiang Cheng and before Jiang Cheng can scramble to get out of the way—he doubts he could have made it, with how his legs feel—the man hauls Jiang Cheng up.

Jiang Cheng barely has time to think before the man pulls him close, pressing Jiang Cheng’s face into his shoulder and resting a grounding hand at the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” the man says again, and by now Jiang Cheng realizes that he should recognize that voice, but his mind is still too foggy to continue that thought.

Jiang Cheng hates being in the presence of people he doesn’t know well, hates being the centre of attention, and even though he clearly is both of these things right now, their position allows him to pretend that he’s not.

It’s a very comfortable position to be in; he can’t actually see anything and the hand at his nape is the perfect weight to keep him in the present.

Jiang Cheng wonders if he can book this man to follow him around to do this every time Jiang Cheng has a meltdown.

He stays where he is for longer than is maybe necessary, but Jiang Cheng knows that as soon as the man lets go of him there will be questions he has to answer, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he can.

He’s not just a mess in front of multiple people; usually just one is enough to tie his tongue and make him skirt the edge of a breakdown.

“Will you be alright if I let go of you?” the man suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng jerks, but his reaction is not as bad as it was before.

“No,” he says after a moment of deliberation and the man squeezes his neck in acknowledgement and then simply let’s Jiang Cheng compose himself in peace.

It takes long—longer than it has in quite some time—before Jiang Cheng feels ready to move away from the man.

When he finally does he really wishes he wouldn’t have, because that’s Nie Mingjue.

That’s the CEO of the company Jiang Cheng works for, and he’s pretty sure with the display he just put on, he’s going to be out of a job soon enough.

Especially if Nie Mingjue was in the conference room to see his complete meltdown.

“I’m Nie Mingjue,” the man introduces himself, startling a laugh out of Jiang Cheng who slaps a hand over his mouth.

“You know that,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile and Jiang Cheng nods.

“My—I’m—Jiang Cheng,” Jiang Cheng finally just presses out when his words continue to fail him and Nie Mingjue nods at him.

“I know that, actually,” he tells Jiang Cheng who goes white at that.

If Nie Mingjue knows who he is it can only be because someone had a complaint about him or because the work he does is so bad that Jiang Cheng is about to be fired.

“It’s not what you think,” Nie Mingjue reassures him. “The work you do is excellent. That’s why I know who you are.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind is spinning like crazy because none of this makes any sense, least of all Nie Mingjue praising him for his work, and he doesn’t know how to react to it either.

“Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?” Nie Mingjue asks, and Jiang Cheng forces himself to get it together.

It’s already shameful enough that he can’t keep it together in front of people; making his boss realize just what a mess he is, is not going to help him any.

“I’m alright,” Jiang Cheng says, glad when his voice holds out and his thoughts don’t come out all mangled up and Nie Mingjue gives him a very doubtful look.

“My little brother used to react like that in face of other people as well. I know you’re not okay,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng flinches.

Used to. Which means Nie Mingjue’s brother eventually grew out of it, very much unlike Jiang Cheng.

“I see,” he whispers, shame curling in his gut again, because he never managed to overcome his fear like Nie Mingjue’s brother did.

“Stop it,” Nie Mingjue chastises him and when Jiang Cheng flinches he puts his hand on his neck again.

Jiang Cheng instantly relaxes.

“My brother has years of therapy behind him and he had a very good support system, that made sure he didn’t get into situations like this unsupervised. I’m guessing you had neither, especially given the fact that you’re working for me, instead of your father.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes burn again, because no. His father never thought it would be worth it to send Jiang Cheng to therapy, seeing as he somehow still managed to function in every-day life and even got a degree, and while Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were always sympathetic, they had their own life and struggles, so they couldn’t support Jiang Cheng as much as he needed.

“He said I can’t lead the company, if I’m being like that,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “And he claimed he didn’t have another job for me either.”

“So you had Lan Xichen put in a word with me,” Nie Mingjue nods and Jiang Cheng shrugs awkwardly.

“I know I wouldn’t have made it through a job interview. Xichen promised that I would be judged based on my work once I got in.”

“And you are,” Nie Mingjue says. “The work you do is excellent.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that, because he’s only working behind the scenes, doing the paperwork no one else wants to do, he knows that, but it’s still nice to hear it.

“The work you do is important,” Nie Mingjue says as if he can read Jiang Cheng’s mind, and by now Jiang Cheng is inclined to believe that, however fantastical it sounds because no one has been able to read Jiang Cheng like this in a long time.

“It’s unloved work, yes, but mostly because everyone I had in that position before found it too difficult. I didn’t hear that complaint from you, yet.”

“Because it’s not,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Sure, it’s a lot of work, but it’s not that difficult once you understand the workings of the company, and Jiang Cheng finds himself with hours to spare more often than not.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Nie Mingjue says and takes his hand back, much to Jiang Cheng’s dismay.

“I’m sorry I butchered the presentation today,” Jiang Cheng says, because he’s uncomfortable with the praise he’s getting.

Mostly because he’s not used to that, but Jiang Cheng pushes that thought away.

“It wasn’t your presentation to give,” Nie Mingjue says and he seems angry now. “Weren’t Jin Zixun and Su She supposed to give it?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng nods. “But they thought since I prepared it, it would only be fair if I gave it too. They are tired of doing my work for me, apparently,” Jiang Cheng whispers and waits for Nie Mingjue’s judgement on that.

“And I am tired of them acting like that,” Nie Mingjue says and rubs a hand over his face. “That’s harassment of a colleague and it’s more than enough reason to finally fire them.”

“Finally?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to fire them for a while now,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug. “But while they are shit at their job, they are excellent at covering their tracks, so I didn’t have sufficient reason yet. This finally gives it to me.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says with a wince, because it hasn’t been them who covered their tracks.

That was all Jiang Cheng. And maybe it’s time he admits to that.

“I—it’s not them,” he says and when Nie Mingjue’s eyes fall on him the so familiar panic starts to build in his chest again.

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue says instantly and Jiang Cheng does.

It helps.

“I have been covering their tracks for them,” he admits once his breath regulates again and Nie Mingjue fixes him with a glare.

“What?”

“They said they would make me talk to people,” Jiang Cheng says and shrinks in on himself again. “They did this today, because I refused to fix their mistake last time,” he then whispers and Nie Mingjue slams a hand down on the table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says immediately afterwards, clearly having noticed Jiang Cheng’s flinch. “What absolute shit-stains,” he mutters and reaches for his phone, before he hesitates. “If I call my brother here, will you be alright?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng hesitates, but in the end he nods.

It’s not quite as bad with fewer people around and if it’s the brother who suffered the same, then he at least will understand.

“Huaisang is so going to love raining hell on them,” Nie Mingjue says and makes the call.

Nie Huaisang, it turns out, loves nothing more than to rain hell on them.

Jiang Cheng tries to make himself very small on the couch where he finally took a seat, but of course Nie Huaisang notices him the second he comes in, but he doesn’t pay him much attention, seemingly too excited to get rid of Su She and Jin Zixun.

It’s only when they have finalized their plans—with no input from Jiang Cheng at all—that Nie Huaisang turns towards him.

“And who might you be?” Nie Huaisang asks him and Nie Mingjue puts a hand to his shoulder.

“He exposed them today,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Be gentle, he has social anxiety just like you.”

“Oh, I see,” Nie Huaisang says, suddenly a lot more relaxed than before, but Jiang Cheng stiffens when he bounds over. “What therapist do you go to?”

“None,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say and he wants the couch to swallow him when Nie Huaisang simply blinks at him.

“Da-ge,” he then says and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I know, Huaisang.”

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang nods, and plops down next to Jiang Cheng, who has no idea what just happened. “We’re going to recommend you to my therapist,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng stares at him.

“What?”

“If you’re just like me then it’s a really bad case, right? You can’t go on like this. We’re going to get you the help you deserve,” Nie Huaisang decides and then smiles sheepishly when Nie Mingjue pointedly clears his throat.

“I mean, if you want to. We’re going to help you if you want to.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart over to Nie Mingjue who nods encouragingly at him and it never before occurred to Jiang Cheng that this is something that requires professional help.

His father always made it sound like if he can’t deal with it by himself, then that’s just because he’s too weak to overcome this.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know at all what to do with the support he’s being given right now.

“Whoever you’re thinking about, I’m going to kill them for you,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says, because clearly everyone in this room can read him now. “Well, I’m going to have da-ge kill them for you, but, semantics.”

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue chides him but it startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng.

He hasn’t laughed in front of others for way too long, he knows that, and he’s surprised by his own reaction.

But something about being around the Nie brothers makes it feel easy.

“Okay,” he agrees, and he leaves it entirely open to what he agrees.

Going by the wide smile on Nie Huaisang’s face, he picked up on that almost immediately.

“We’re going to keep him,” Nie Huaisang decides and Jiang Cheng would object to ‘being kept’ but no one bothered to even like him in a long time—his condition not making it easy, Jiang Cheng knows that, but still—and so he can’t find it in him to complain about that.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue says, as if there has never been any doubt about that, and it settles something in Jiang Cheng.

Maybe here it doesn’t matter that he can’t string two coherent sentences together. Maybe here, he will be accepted for who he is.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #jclovemonth2020 #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #modern au #hurt/comfort #social anxiety #panic attack #support #mistypluie

[spidersbane]

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America ! 

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there 

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter. 

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten 

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show ! 

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :) 

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers ship #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america ship #illya kuryakin ship #illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo baggins ship #mcu #marvel #marvel ships #marvel ship requests #the hobbit #the hobbit ship #the hobbit ship requests #the man from uncle #the man from uncle ship #the man from uncle ship request #x reader requests #ship requests #writing #writers of tumblr

[nepenthendline]

hiiiii, your blog really feels like a safe space for me and I’m pretty sure other people because of how represented you make the readers feel, so thank you so much for your writing!! I was thinking if you’re comfortable could you please write some headcannons of tendou, suga, and kuroo w/ a s/o with selective mutism? thank you so much!!!!

Firstly I’m so glad you feel safe in this space!! And secondly I relate to this so much, I was selectively mute as a child and was offered a lot of speech therapy and even now I still struggle with it so I totally understand. I hope you like this and I did it well for you! I’m also going with a generalisation that you feel comfortable speaking in front of these boys when the two of you are in a safe space so I hope thats ok! 🥰🥰🥰 Also tendou’s is the longest bc its just so easy to write for him lol

S/O with selective mutism - Tendou, Sugawara and Kuroo

Tendou:

Tendou is your guy when it comes to dealing with selective mutism

he’s already so used to building a strong relationship with Ushijima, someone who doesn’t speak that often, that it doesn’t feel much different with you

he’s bold, he’s loud, he’s distracting - it’s the perfect combination to take the pressure of you

when he first met you at school and noticed that he had never once heard you speak, he thought you were just a shy, quiet one so he never really considered selective mutism

but as you two started getting closer and creating your relationship, he saw a whole new side of you that loved to chat, joke and sing with him

when you told him about your mutism, his reply was simply, “Ok cool!” and went on with his day - it doesn’t matter to him in the slightest

he does though, of course, ask you a lot of questions when the two of you are alone, cuddled up in his bed where you felt the safest to speak, about how it affects you, what situations/people/places trigger it and what he can do to help you

he WILL learn sign language with/for you if you want to or do use it, you never have to feel like you are burdening him with learning this - “it’s just like volleyball signals, right baby?” he says with the biggest grin on his face

if not full sign language, the two of you do develop non-verbal signs or cues so that, in times where you cannot speak, you can still communicate with him

uses a lot of stimulus fading - he knows it can be so hard for you to meet people and make friends, so slowly one-by-one, he introduces his teammates to you, first taking control of the conversation, then slowly pulling back as you get better and more comfortable at joining in

he starts of with Ushijima, as he feels he’s the least overwhelming, and makes sure the two of you meet in one of your safe spaces (probably his bedroom)

he does his best to distract the teacher from you whenever they want someone to answer a question in class or read out a passage

struggle with eye contact? no problem for him! he knows you’re listening and taking note of what he’s saying

if you’re someone who gets clingier in situations where you cannot speak then he relishes in the feeling of having you clutching onto his arm or hand - he knows you do it because you’re anxious but he just loves feeling your touch

if people make fun of you about it, or ask him about you, he makes a joke as though he has no idea what they’re talking about, “huh? my Y/N? too quiet? maybe you’re just hard of hearing?”

he will happily take over in social situations if you cannot do it yourself, whether that’s ordering for the two of you, or answering questions for you

he never wants you to feel like he’s just taking over though, he will always ask if you are up to speaking in different places or situations - he wants to hear you voice and give you situations where you can use it

he’s so so proud of you if you, eventually, speak in a situation you might not have done so before, he doesn’t expect sentences from you, but even if its just a quiet ‘yes’ or ‘no’ if he asks you a question

he can manage mood swings and any temper very well - he learns quickly what he needs to do and say in these moments and brings you to a safe space to let you relax for a while, he’s absolutely fine with having you stay quiet for a while after being in an anxious state

he’s amazing at reading you, so even if you cannot use non-verbal communication well during periods of mutism, he still learns how to tell what you are feeling or thinking

Sugawara:

as soon as you tell Sugawara about your selective mutism, he is instantly looking it up and finding out all about it

while Tendou takes a more lax approach to helping you, Sugawara is a lot more serious and structured

he will sit down with you in a safe space and ask you to let him know what he can do to help you, when the mutism is present and why, and of anything he should know

he has lists of your safe spaces and people so that he can refer to them if needed

he works on making a particular date-spot a safe space for you, maybe a certain cafe you two enjoy where he will slowly break down your fear in the place and encourage small bits of communication with you

he does his best to slowly integrate verbal communication into your relationship, such as sending you voice memos rather than texts or videos of him talking so you can get used to his communication style

he’ll keep an eye on you often in public places, especially in class, to know if you need anything, need to go to the bathroom, how you are feeling, in case you cannot bring it up yourself - the last thing he wants is for you to get ill because you were not able to express an issue

Sugawara is able to come up with a few signals with you for basic communication in case you need to ask or say something when you cannot speak - he wants to make sure that, even if it’s not verbal, that you have a voice somehow

he does his best to learn how different places or people affect you and always keeps in mind each different situation’s severity for you - he will make sure the two of you avoid areas where you cannot cope well at all to the point of struggling to move or use non-verbal communication

it takes him a little while to learn your ways of non-verbal communication - at first it’s a lot of guessing until he gets it right, but he gets there eventually with you help

he never gets frustrated with you, he is there to help and guide you and has no problem taking the lead

he’s the most likely to ask if you’ve considered therapy to help with your mutism

it’s not that it bothers him in the slightest, but he knows it is usually caused or brought on by extreme anxiety or other disorders, and he wants to make sure you are happy over anything else

he praises you when you communicate, but he never treats you any differently or acts surprised - he tells you that you’ve done well and that he’s proud but he does his best not to make a big deal out of it

Kuroo:

Like Tendou, he’s quite familiar with people who don’t talk much

while Kenma does speak more freely than you, Kuroo is aware and deals well with his anxieties, and can use this knowledge with you too

he knows well that you don’t talk sometimes because you can’t, or because you are too afraid, rather than because you just don’t want to, so he will never pressure you into talking

Kuroo is the best at stimulus fading - he will slowly acclimatise you to different people or situations by taking full control, then giving you little prompts to join in until he can step back and let you communicate without the need for them

he’s quite good at reading your non-verbal communication, even if its quite different from others and learns quickly what certain movements or signals mean

he likes to get you more prepared for talking by using familiarity techniques, such as reading a book aloud to you and, every now and then, asking you to read a line or a couple words back to him, or asking you to tell him about your interests since he knows they’re safer topics for you

quiet time between the two of you is no problem for him - he enjoys being in silence with you so, even if you are fully comfortable talking with him when its just the two of you, he knows you might need some time where you don’t talk if you’ve had a particularly anxious day

he likes to play games with you to try and strengthen your non-verbal communication without the need for you to talk - things like charrades or guessing games where you can act things out if you feel comfortable enough to do so

he’s a smart guy, so if you’re struggling with your school work but cannot ask the teacher for help, he is prepped with notes and study sessions together

also, if you have a school project that requires you to present in some way, he is very good at coming up with alternative ways of you being about to show your work with limited talking

he thinks therapy would be a good idea for you to look into, but he won’t bring it up often - it’s your choice how you want to battle this and he will be with you every step of the way no matter what

he understands it can be very frustrating for you so he takes a lot of time out with you to help you destress and manage your emotions, this includes writing out how you are feeling to try and make sense of them and making sure you are taking care of yourself

he tries his best to make light of the situation as he doesn’t want you to feel weird or out of place

this includes a lot of teasing Kenma about how he’s ‘even quieter than you’ when you’re doing particularly well at your communication

facing fears is a really big thing for him to do with you - he understands that you often may think ‘if I don’t do this thing/go to this place, I won’t have to speak’, so he always reminds you he will be by your side in case you need to rely on him

#i really hope this is ok #and that i stayed away from stereotypes #ahhh im nervous #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #haikyū!! #Selective mutism #tendou x reader #tendou satori #Tendo satori #sugawara koushi #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x reader #Sugawara koushi x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #Kuroo x reader

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Religious Trauma Syndrome: How Some Organized Religion Leads to Mental Health Problems

By Valerie Tarico

Marlene Winell interviewed March 25, 2013

At age sixteen I began what would be a four year struggle with bulimia. When the symptoms started, I turned in desperation to adults who knew more than I did about how to stop shameful behavior—my Bible study leader and a visiting youth minister.  “If you ask anything in faith, believing,” they said. “It will be done.” I knew they were quoting [3] the Word of God. We prayed together, and I went home confident that God had heard my prayers. But my horrible compulsions didn’t go away. By the fall of my sophomore year in college, I was desperate and depressed enough that I made a suicide attempt. The problem wasn’t just the bulimia. I was convinced by then that I was a complete spiritual failure. My college counseling department had offered to get me real help (which they later did). But to my mind, at that point, such help couldn’t fix the core problem: I was a failure in the eyes of God. It would be years before I understood that my inability to heal bulimia through the mechanisms offered by biblical Christianity was not a function of my own spiritual deficiency but deficiencies in Evangelical religion itself.  

Dr. Marlene Winell is a human development consultant in the San Francisco Area. She is also the daughter of Pentecostal missionaries. This combination has given her work an unusual focus. For the past twenty years she has counseled men and women in recovery from various forms of fundamentalist religion including the Assemblies of God denomination in which she was raised. Winell is the author of Leaving the Fold – A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving their Religion [4], written during her years of private practice in psychology. Over the years, Winell has provided assistance to clients whose religious experiences were even more damaging than mine. Some of them are people whose psychological symptoms weren’t just exacerbated by their religion, but actually caused by it.  

Two years ago, Winell made waves by formally labeling what she calls “Religious Trauma Syndrome” (RTS) and beginning to write and speak on the subject for professional audiences. When the British Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Psychologists published a series of articles on the topic, members of a Christian counseling association protested what they called excessive attention to a “relatively niche topic.” One commenter said, “A religion, faith or book cannot be abuse but the people interpreting can make anything abusive.”

Is toxic religion simply misinterpretation? What is religious trauma? Why does Winell believe religious trauma merits its own diagnostic label?

Let’s start this interview with the basics. What exactly is religious trauma syndrome?

Winell: Religious trauma syndrome (RTS) is a set of symptoms and characteristics that tend to go together and which are related to harmful experiences with religion. They are the result of two things: immersion in a controlling religion and the secondary impact of leaving a religious group. The RTS label provides a name and description that affected people often recognize immediately. Many other people are surprised by the idea of RTS, because in our culture it is generally assumed that religion is benign or good for you. Just like telling kids about Santa Claus and letting them work out their beliefs later, people see no harm in teaching religion to children.

But in reality, religious teachings and practices sometimes cause serious mental health damage. The public is somewhat familiar with sexual and physical abuse in a religious context. As Journalist Janet Heimlich has documented in, Breaking Their Will, Bible-based religious groups that emphasize patriarchal authority in family structure and use harsh parenting methods can be destructive.

But the problem isn’t just physical and sexual abuse. Emotional and mental treatment in authoritarian religious groups also can be damaging because of 1) toxic teachings like eternal damnation or original sin 2) religious practices or mindset, such as punishment, black and white thinking, or sexual guilt, and 3) neglect that prevents a person from having the information or opportunities to develop normally.

Can you give me an example of RTS from your consulting practice?

Winell: I can give you many. One of the symptom clusters is around fear and anxiety. People indoctrinated into fundamentalist Christianity as small children sometimes have memories of being terrified by images of hell and apocalypse before their brains could begin to make sense of such ideas. Some survivors, who I prefer to call “reclaimers,” [8] have flashbacks, panic attacks, or nightmares in adulthood even when they intellectually no longer believe the theology. One client of mine, who during the day functioned well as a professional, struggled with intense fear many nights. She said,

“I was afraid I was going to hell. I was afraid I was doing something really wrong. I was completely out of control. I sometimes would wake up in the night and start screaming, thrashing my arms, trying to rid myself of what I was feeling. I’d walk around the house trying to think and calm myself down, in the middle of the night, trying to do some self-talk, but I felt like it was just something that – the fear and anxiety was taking over my life.” Or consider this comment, which refers to a film [9] used by evangelicals to warn about the horrors of the “end times” for nonbelievers.

“I was taken to see the film “A Thief In The Night”. WOW.  I am in shock to learn that many other people suffered the same traumas I lived with because of this film. A few days or weeks after the film viewing, I came into the house and mom wasn’t there. I stood there screaming in terror. When I stopped screaming, I began making my plan: Who my Christian neighbors were, who’s house to break into to get money and food. I was 12 years old and was preparing for Armageddon alone.”

In addition to anxiety, RTS can include depression, cognitive difficulties, and problems with social functioning. In fundamentalist Christianity, the individual is considered depraved and in need of salvation. A core message is “You are bad and wrong and deserve to die.” (The wages of sin is death [10].) This gets taught to millions of children through organizations like Child Evangelism Fellowship [11] and there is a group organized [12]  to oppose their incursion into public schools.  I’ve had clients who remember being distraught when given a vivid bloody image of Jesus paying the ultimate price for their sins. Decades later they sit telling me that they can’t manage to find any self-worth.

“After twenty-seven years of trying to live a perfect life, I failed. . . I was ashamed of myself all day long. My mind battling with itself with no relief. . . I always believed everything that I was taught but I thought that I was not approved by God. I thought that basically I, too, would die at Armageddon.

“I’ve spent literally years injuring myself, cutting and burning my arms, taking overdoses and starving myself, to punish myself so that God doesn’t have to punish me. It’s taken me years to feel deserving of anything good.”

Born-again Christianity and devout Catholicism [13] tell people they are weak and dependent, calling on phrases like “lean not unto your own understanding [14]” or “trust and obey [11].” People who internalize these messages can suffer from learned helplessness. I’ll give you an example from a client who had little decision-making ability after living his entire life devoted to following the “will of God.” The words here don’t convey the depth of his despair.

“I have an awful time making decisions in general. Like I can’t, you know, wake up in the morning, “What am I going to do today?” Like I don’t even know where to start. You know all the things I thought I might be doing are gone and I’m not sure I should even try to have a career; essentially I babysit my four-year-old all day.”

Authoritarian religious groups are subcultures where conformity is required in order to belong. Thus if you dare to leave the religion, you risk losing your entire support system as well.

“I lost all my friends. I lost my close ties to family. Now I’m losing my country. I’ve lost so much because of this malignant religion and I am angry and sad to my very core. . . I have tried hard to make new friends, but I have failed miserably. . . I am very lonely.”

Leaving a religion, after total immersion, can cause a complete upheaval of a person’s construction of reality, including the self, other people, life, and the future. People unfamiliar with this situation, including therapists, have trouble appreciating the sheer terror it can create.

“My form of religion was very strongly entrenched and anchored deeply in my heart. It is hard to describe how fully my religion informed, infused, and influenced my entire worldview. My first steps out of fundamentalism were profoundly frightening and I had frequent thoughts of suicide. Now I’m way past that but I still haven’t quite found “my place in the universe.”

Even for a person who was not so entrenched, leaving one’s religion can be a stressful and significant transition.

Many people seem to walk away from their religion easily, without really looking back. What is different about the clientele you work with?

Winell: Religious groups that are highly controlling, teach fear about the world, and keep members sheltered and ill-equipped to function in society are harder to leave easily. The difficulty seems to be greater if the person was born and raised in the religion rather than joining as an adult convert. This is because they have no frame of reference – no other “self” or way of “being in the world.” A common personality type is a person who is deeply emotional and thoughtful and who tends to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their endeavors. “True believers” who then lose their faith feel more anger and depression and grief than those who simply went to church on Sunday.

Aren’t these just people who would be depressed, anxious, or obsessive anyways?

Winell: Not at all. If my observation is correct, these are people who are intense and involved and caring. They hang on to the religion longer than those who simply “walk away” because they try to make it work even when they have doubts. Sometimes this is out of fear, but often it is out of devotion. These are people for whom ethics, integrity and compassion matter a great deal. I find that when they get better and rebuild their lives, they are wonderfully creative and energetic about new things.

In your mind, how is RTS different from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Winell: RTS is a specific set of symptoms and characteristics that are connected with harmful religious experience, not just any trauma. This is crucial to understanding the condition and any kind of self-help or treatment. (More details about this can be found on my Journey Free [15] website and discussed in my talk [16] at the Texas Freethought Convention.)

Another difference is the social context, which is extremely different from other traumas or forms of abuse. When someone is recovering from domestic abuse, for example, other people understand and support the need to leave and recover. They don’t question it as a matter of interpretation, and they don’t send the person back for more. But this is exactly what happens to many former believers who seek counseling. If a provider doesn’t understand the source of the symptoms, he or she may send a client for pastoral counseling, or to AA, or even to another church. One reclaimer expressed her frustration this way:

“Include physically-abusive parents who quote “Spare the rod and spoil the child” as literally as you can imagine and you have one fucked-up soul: an unloved, rejected, traumatized toddler in the body of an adult. I’m simply a broken spirit in an empty shell. But wait...That’s not enough!? There’s also the expectation by everyone in society that we victims should celebrate this with our perpetrators every Christmas and Easter!!”

Just like disorders such as autism or bulimia, giving RTS a real name has important advantages. People who are suffering find that having a label for their experience helps them feel less alone and guilty. Some have written to me to express their relief:

“There’s actually a name for it! I was brainwashed from birth and wasted 25 years of my life serving Him! I’ve since been out of my religion for several years now, but I cannot shake the haunting fear of hell and feel absolutely doomed. I’m now socially inept, unemployable, and the only way I can have sex is to pay for it.”

Labeling RTS encourages professionals to study it more carefully, develop treatments, and offer training. Hopefully, we can even work on prevention.

What do you see as the difference between religion that causes trauma and religion that doesn’t?

Winell: Religion causes trauma when it is highly controlling and prevents people from thinking for themselves and trusting their own feelings. Groups that demand obedience and conformity produce fear, not love and growth. With constant judgment of self and others, people become alienated from themselves, each other, and the world. Religion in its worst forms causes separation.

Conversely, groups that connect people and promote self-knowledge and personal growth can be said to be healthy. The book, Healthy Religion [17], describes these traits. Such groups put high value on respecting differences, and members feel empowered as individuals.  They provide social support, a place for events and rites of passage, exchange of ideas, inspiration, opportunities for service, and connection to social causes. They encourage spiritual practices that promote health like meditation or principles for living like the golden rule. More and more, non-theists are asking [18] how they can create similar spiritual communities without the supernaturalism. An atheist congregation [19] in London launched this year and has received over 200 inquiries from people wanting to replicate their model.

Some people say that terms like “recovery from religion” and “religious trauma syndrome” are just atheist attempts to pathologize religious belief.

Winell: Mental health professionals have enough to do without going out looking for new pathology. I never set out looking for a “niche topic,” and certainly not religious trauma syndrome. I originally wrote a paper for a conference of the American Psychological Association and thought that would be the end of it. Since then, I have tried to move on to other things several times, but this work has simply grown.

In my opinion, we are simply, as a culture, becoming aware of religious trauma. More and more people are leaving religion, as seen by polls [20] showing that the “religiously unaffiliated” have increased in the last five years from just over 15% to just under 20% of all U.S. adults. It’s no wonder the internet is exploding with websites for former believers from all religions, providing forums [21] for people to support each other. The huge population of people “leaving the fold” includes a subset at risk for RTS, and more people are talking about it and seeking help.  For example, there are thousands of former Mormons [22], and I was asked to speak about RTS at an Exmormon Foundation conference.  I facilitate an international support group online called Release and Reclaim [23]  which has monthly conference calls. An organization called Recovery from Religion, [24] helps people start self-help meet-up groups

Saying that someone is trying to pathologize authoritarian religion is like saying someone pathologized eating disorders by naming them. Before that, they were healthy? No, before that we weren’t noticing. People were suffering, thought they were alone, and blamed themselves.  Professionals had no awareness or training. This is the situation of RTS today. Authoritarian religion is already pathological, and leaving a high-control group can be traumatic. People are already suffering. They need to be recognized and helped. _______________________________

Statistics update:

Numbers of American ‘nones’ continues to rise

October 18, 2019

By David Crary – Associated Press

The portion of Americans with no religious affiliation is rising significantly, in tandem with a sharp drop in the percentage that identifies as Christians, according to new data from the Pew Research Center. …

Pew says all categories of the religiously unaffiliated population – often referred to as the “nones” grew in magnitude. Self-described atheists now account for 4% of U.S. adults, up from 2% in 2009; agnostics account for 5%, up from 3% a decade ago; and 17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,” up from 12% in 2009.

https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2019/1018/Numbers-of-American-nones-continues-to-rise

_______________________________

Marlene Winell interviewed by Valerie Tarico on recovering from religious trauma Uploaded on January 31, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIfABmbqSMA

24:12

On Moral Politics, a TV program with host Dr. Valerie Tarico, Marlene Winell describes the trauma that can result from harmful experiences with religious indoctrination. Dr. Winell explains that mental health issues are widespread and need to be understood just as we understand PTSD. There are steps to recovery, treatment modalities, and resources available as well. She now refers to this as RTS or Religious Trauma Syndrome. _______________________________

Links:
 
[3] https://www.biblestudyonjesuschrist.com/pog/ask1.htm 
[4] https://marlenewinell.net/leaving-fold-former 
[8] https://journeyfree.org/article/reclaimers/ 
[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Thief_in_the_Night_%28film%29 
[10] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+6%3A23&version=KJV 
[11] https://valerietarico.com/2011/02/04/our-public-schools-their-mission-field/ 
[12] http://www.intrinsicdignity.com/ 
[13] https://www.maryjohnson.co/an-unquenchable-thirst/ 
[14] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+3%3A5-6&version=KJV [15] https://journeyfree.org/category/uncategorized/ [16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrE4pMBlis 
[17] https://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Religion-Psychological-Guide-Mature/dp/1425924166 [18] https://www.humanistchaplaincy.org/ [19] https://www.christianpost.com/news/london-atheist-church-model-looking-to-expand-worldwide-91516 [20] https://www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/ 
[21] https://new.exchristian.net/ 
[22] https://www.exmormon.org/ 
[23] https://journeyfree.org/group-forum/ [24] https://www.recoveringfromreligion.org/

_____________________________________

Get God’s Self-Appointed Messengers Out of Your Head

Valerie Tarico Which buzz phrases from your past are stuck in your brain? “God’s messengers” were all real complicated people with biases, blind spots, favorite foods and morning breath. They were not gods and they are not you. So how can you get them out of your head or at least reduce them to muffled background noise?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElfyYA420F0

#religious trauma syndrome #Marlene Winell #Valerie Tarico

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

The first Wednesday in October was the first day that truly felt like fall had arrived. There was a chill in the air that morning and the fallen leaves had taken on a lovely earthy smell after the rain from the night before had blown them off the trees and pummeled them to the ground. I made a mental note to ask one of the neighbor boys to clean the leaves off the driveway and stone path through the yard so Mom didn’t accidentally slip on them. She’d been so cooped up that summer, I didn’t want anything to be in her way of finally getting to enjoy the weather.

The drive to work was quiet and lovely. The sun warmed my car and when I reached the catering shop where I worked, I sat there for a few minutes, drinking my coffee and soaking up the feeling on my skin. I always got to work early so that I could have those few peaceful moments before the chaos of the day started.

Once inside the shop, I started working with my boss Darcy on filling the boxes for the day's orders. We had two major deliveries that day - a work conference at a hotel, and a training seminar being held in the public library late that afternoon. Other than that, we had our standing order for the homicide unit of the police department. At the beginning of the year, a man had been murdered and according to the news that covered it, there was next to no evidence and the case was sure to go cold. But a couple of the detectives wouldn’t let go and against the odds, they found the murderer and got a full confession out of him. The victim’s wife had been so grateful that she decided to have an ongoing order every Wednesday to buy lunch for the detectives who’d solved the murder, as well as their colleagues. She had received quite a bit of money after her husband’s death and decided to use some of it to pay them back in a small way. That order was always mine. It was fairly small and I could carry it in my car. The detectives were always polite but never tried to make small talk, which I enjoyed. The chatty orders went to Darcy’s nephew Nick, who could hold a conversation with a brick wall and enjoy it. 

Once the boxes for the detectives were filled and loaded into my car, I drove down to the station. I took the dolly from my trunk and strapped down the two insulated containers that had the boxed lunches packed in them. The wind whipped around me as I worked, blowing my hair in my eyes. I pushed it away and held it back with my free hand as I wheeled the food behind me. When I got into the building, an officer went through the containers, as always, to make sure I wasn’t bringing in any weapons, or whatever. The first few times he checked them, I was nervous that he’d find something, knowing full well that there was absolutely nothing illegal in them. Then, once I got to know him a bit, I had considered bringing him a cookie from the shop since I saw him every week, but then the irrational fear that he would think I was trying to bribe him to overlook the non-existent illegal materials I wasn’t trying to smuggle in took over. So, like with everything else in my life, I pushed away any urge, no matter how small, to socially interact with anyone longer than absolutely necessary. That’s why, after delivering there for several weeks, I knew he was Officer Bates (he wore a badge) and I was just ‘Waverly’, as in Waverly Box Catering, my company's name. 

Once Officer Bates checked to make sure everything in my containers was safe, he walked me to the elevator and hit the button for me. Thankfully the elevator was empty so that I wasn’t forced to make small talk with the officers or detectives outside of the homicide unit that always questioned why none of the other units got free lunches. The first few times I’d been asked it was awkward, all the other times after those were both awkward and annoying. 

When I reached the homicide unit floor, I made my way to their break room, where some of the detectives were waiting for me. I started unpacking the boxed lunches, placing them on the table, making sure that the names were clearly visible. As I placed the empty insulated containers back on my dolly, my phone rang. Normally I didn’t take calls on the job, but it was from Mom’s doctor’s office. 

I left the break room and found a quiet hall to answer the phone. It was a nurse called Karen confirming Mom’s appointment the following week. We’d made sure to write it on the calendar to remember it, but I thanked her for the reminder anyway and told her that we’d see her next Wednesday. After hanging up, I went back to the break room to collect my equipment. I was surprised to find that every single box had been claimed but one. I glanced at the name: Detective Marshall. Normally I didn’t keep track of who ordered what after the boxes had been filled and labeled, but I knew Detective Marshall’s order by heart. While every other detective switched their orders up, trying different things on the menu, Detective Marshall’s had remained the same every week. A cuban sandwich - whole, plain chips, and a peanut butter cookie. There were times when I’d be doing mindless tasks - washing the dishes, brushing my teeth, filling Mom’s pill box - when their order would randomly play through my mind, like some strange mantra. It was an odd thing to find calming but it reminded me of one of the exercises my therapist had me do as a teenager when my anxiety attacks would get bad. She had me multiply numbers, or mentally list every detail of my bedroom that I could think of, or recite the alphabet backwards. It was simple, mundane, ground exercises and without ever knowing me, Detective Marshall had become my adult version. 

I was about to leave when a uniformed officer came in. He went to the coffee pot but kept eyeing the box. It was nothing to me, really, if he took it. Detective Marshall could probably handle themselves against a lunch thief, but my gut wouldn’t let me let it go. So instead of leaving, I decided to take the box and hand deliver it.

I left my dolly behind and made my way back down the hall where I’d taken my call earlier. I’d noticed several detectives had private offices there and assumed their office would be there, too. I was right. I found Lieutenant Detective Marshall’s name engraved in a gold name plate mounted on a closed door. I took a deep breath before giving a hard and loud but short knock. 

“Yeah,” a man’s voice called out. 

He didn’t say anything else but I took it as an invitation to open the door. When I did, I was met with my first sight of Detective Marshall: A tall man with a short beard and a head of messy brown curls. He was wearing a forest green sweater, the sleeves pushed up to show his forearms. A gun and badge were clipped to the side of his jeans that hugged his muscular thighs. He was holding a folder, looking at it intently. After a moment, he looked up at me. He must have expected it to be someone he worked with because his expression went from neutral to confused in less than a second. He tilted his head, a crease appearing between his eyes - his beautiful blue eyes - as his brow furrowed. 

“Can I help you?”  

“I, um…” I swallowed hard. “I’m from Waverly Catering. I brought you your lunch,” I said, frozen on the spot at the entrance to his office. 

He looked more confused. “Don’t you usually leave them in the break room?” he asked. He sounded like he had a British accent.  

“Yes. And I did. But you didn’t come to get it. I was about to leave and it was the only one left and an officer came in, eyeing it, I was afraid that they would take it.” I suddenly felt my face get hot as this handsome man stared at me while I mumbled out some weird explanation for why I was interrupting his work. “Sorry,” I said, holding out the box. “Here.”

The slightest hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he walked towards me. “Thank you.” He took the box from my outstretched hand, his fingers lightly brushing mine as he did. I was sure it was an accident and yet it instantly made my pulse race. “I appreciate it.” 

“You’re welcome,” I said, then turned to get out of there before I could embarrass myself further. 

“Do you make the cookies?”

I stopped and looked back at him. “What?”

He held up his box. “Are you the one who makes the cookies in here or do you just deliver?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I make them most of the time.”

He gave me a short lived, closed lip smile. “They’re very good.” 

My brain reacted as if I’d never heard a more flattering compliment in my life and I had to physically restrain myself from giggling. “Thank you,” I managed to say without betraying my giggling brain. “Have a good day.”

I left his office feeling like a teenage girl who’d just said something embarrassing in front of her crush and I couldn’t figure out why. The feeling lasted until I was back in my car. 

“Come on, Fiona, you’re a grown woman,” I whispered to myself, massaging my temples. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this.”

The last thing I needed on top of all of my responsibilities and already emotionally complicated current life situation was an unnecessary crush on a man just because he had pretty eyes and liked my cookies. But good heavens his eyes were pretty.

    _____________________________________

When I got home that afternoon, I found Mom in the living room. She was watching a cooking show. I went and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. Her hair was growing back just enough to feel like soft baby hair. I jokingly called it her duck feathers.

“How was your day, sweetie?” she asked.

I sat on the arm of the couch, facing her in the big recliner that swallowed her up. “It was good. Not too busy. I had my delivery to the police station again,” I said, letting myself grin. “I met one of the detectives, too. He was very handsome.” 

She looked at me, her cheeks a pretty pink color. It was such a wonderful sight after months of her being pale and gray. “Oh! What does he look like?” 

“He looks...manly,” I said. She laughed. “He was taller than me, which is always rare and attractive, and he has curly hair, and a beard, which I’m not usually attracted to but it really worked for him.” I sighed. “And his eyes. They were such a lovely blue.”

“Is he single?”

I shrugged and laughed. “I don’t know. I didn’t check for a ring. It wasn’t really that type of interaction,” I said. “I was just giving him his lunch and was surprised by how gorgeous he was.” I stood up. “Oh, and I think he’s English. He sounded like it anyway.”

“Honey, look for a ring next week!” 

“I won’t deliver next week, Nick will. You’ve got your appointment with Dr. Turner,” I reminded her. “I’m going to start dinner. Do you want anything special?”

She pointed at the TV. “They’re making chicken carbonara, it looks awfully tempting.”

I smiled. “I think I might be able to rustle some up for you. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Thank you, Fi.”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #walter marshall fanfiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic #All I've Ever Known