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swap-and-possessions · 1 year

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Under your Skin

Commissioned by: Valagon37

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! It’s finally here. I rushed downstairs when I heard the familiar ding of my doorbell. My hands were trembling, and sweat rained from my head. I opened the door, accomplished all the fuss with the delivery guy, and retreated to the basement lounge with the package. I can’t begin to count the days I have toiled, all so I could buy this expensive package. All those overtime and side hustles, all the things I didn’t buy. Everything, for this.

Using a boxcutter, I cut a neat cut down the middle. The brown paper package spread apart and lay in neat tatters on the ground. I opened the box. A gasp escaped my mouth at the same time. The thing inside is just as I have imagined it. It’s perfect. It’s a professionally-made bodysuit of an Asian bodybuilder and Internet star, Brock Nguyen. If you disregard the lack of innards, everything about the suit looked like him, from the face I first saw when I opened the box; down to the body when I pulled the bodysuit from the package. The texture was that of human skin. I can’t begin to imagine the mechanism of how they made it so warm. It doesn’t even have any sign of cooling down to room temperature. I could feel the bumps and minute hairs and the sheer smoothness of what seemed to be the abs. What surprised me more was the large size of it when compared to my body. He looked somewhat of average height in his videos. He’s taller by a few inches, and all of his limbs are larger than I have. I mean– I am not a difficult bar to pass, but still.

I laid the bodysuit flat on top of the coffee table. I stand in awe at the prospect of now having it. If what the website said is true, I’d turn into Brock if I wore this suit. Even now, it’s still unbelievable. The website has shown videos of other people turning into famous celebrities and Internet stars. They seem legit, but there is a nagging feeling at the top of my mind telling me they’re fakes. Nothing is impossible with video editing nowadays. But there is hope driven by the desire and lust to be someone better, to be like Brock. This is real. This is fucking real.

That underwear… They look familiar…

Clothes came along with the suit. I would have never given them second thoughts if I didn’t recognize the tight black underwear at the bottom of the box. There was this incident a few days ago when Brock’s household was robbed while he was out training in the gym. Commenters asked what was stolen from him and if he got in contact with the police yet. He assured the fans that nothing of value was stolen, but it’s clear that he’s embarrassed to tell us what it was. Only now did I piece two-and-two together. Clothes were stolen from him, and it’s quite an embarrassing catalog too. Aside from the black underwear, there are socks, boxers, and even more underwear. Though, there are no T-shirts. It’s not much of a loss since almost all of his pictures and videos often show him without one. And besides, if I transform into him, T-shirts would only get in the way of showing off his stunning body.

As for the underwear, it’s clear these weren’t washed yet. I grabbed and stuffed both on my face. The musk came in hard and fast. It has hints of piercing sour citrus and bitterness that leave a tantalizing sensation inside my lungs and, eventually, the erection in my groin. I lay on the floor with two stained underwear attached to my face. Manly musk boiled my mind into a frenzy. There is no time in my life when I’ve felt stiffer than this. The smell alone made me reach my climax. Cum rained out of my penis and came crashing back to my bare stomach. That was just the fucking smell! I turned my head, and his hollowed face and equally hollowed eyes looked at me. What pleasures will I feel when I become him?

After gathering my breath and courage, I stood from my pool of cum and picked up the bodysuit. My heart was beating fast from ejaculating; it got even quicker when I got excited at the prospect of becoming someone better. I raised the suit and spread the hole on its back. Both feet were the first to enter. As expected, the bodysuit hung loosely on them. Brock has magnificent and large calves worthy of a marathon runner. I didn’t expect it to tighten immediately because the website said so. Only when I wore the suit entirely would it do, so I started working on that goal. I worked my way up to the body and arms. I am out of breath, not because I’m tired, but because I’m on the final step before I say goodbye to who I currently am. The sight of the bodysuit hanging loosely on my body was the last thing I saw before pulling the mask over my head.

I woke up with the worst migraine I’ve felt in my entire life. It was a relief knowing that it disappeared as fast as it came. I shifted to my side and felt the immediate change in size and weight. They say humans have senses beyond conventional ones. There’s the sense of spatial awareness, and that very sense is telling me everything is askew. My head doesn’t move the way it should. My arms and feet feel like there are sacks of concrete attached to them. Everything screams wrong, and yet… also right? My body may feel heavy, but I have more than enough strength to carry the burden. My mind is also poking at the sense of wrongness I am feeling. Why am I feeling strange when I’ve had this strength for years?

Wait– what? The headache returned and brought forth memories of another with it. They played like a DVD player when you played it on fast forward. They fell on my palms like sand, some I’ve retained while most were lost. One thing I learned as I walked to the mirror, the bodysuit worked. I’m Brock Nguyễn! This is my body and no other. The sense of wrongness dissipated instantaneously, leaving me with nothing but comfort in his skin. A slow smile formed on my face. That smile shifted to laughter.

The confidence in the looks. I’m Brock Nguyễn and no one else.

“Tôi là Brock Nguyễn (I am Brock Nuyễn),” I said before stopping quickly. Did I just speak Vietnamese? I assume I did. When I looked back at Brock’s memories, everyone spoke Vietnamese, and I seemed to understand each one. I am also confident that I can even talk in Vietnamese. However, speaking English now dumbfounds me. I don’t know how or why, but my original memories seem muted. I know I am talking in English in these memories, but the conversations are lost to translation.

Why should I even care if I don’t speak English that well anymore? I bought this bodysuit not to talk in Vietnamese but to enjoy becoming Brock. My breathing turned shallow as this idea dawned on me. My musky breath foamed on my face. I could hear the deep drums of my heartbeat.

Tôi là Brock Nguyễn… Tôi là Brock Nguyễn… The thought repeated in my mind like seconds on a clock. This still feels like a dream, but every sensation I feel now says it’s not.

One thing I loved about Brock is his massive pectorals. I’ve always admired their sheer size, and the thought of touching them never left my fantasies. I can’t believe that my dreams are finally coming to fruition. I squeezed my pecs, and my jaws dropped in surprise when I realized how soft and squishy they were. They flinched at the touch, and I was surprised even more by the massive leaps they’d made. I can move them with my mind. I could move the left pectoral, the right, and then both. Fuck! Th– this is amazing. While I love them for their softness, I could also make them dense and firm. I marbled them and relished at the thought of having such massive milkers.

They’re so fucking big. See how they move so much!? I can’t even see my dick clearly with these two in the way.

From my pecs, I shifted to the rest of my body. My arms weren’t only for show. There is strength brimming in every flex. And fuck! My body has been glistening with sweat ever since I wore the bodysuit. That sweat permeated in the hairs of my armpits where bitter musk lingers. My nose could not sniff the area closely with my pecs in the way, but the stench was so great that I didn’t need close proximity to get hard at my aroma. Not only did my dick get stiff, but so did the massive nipples in my chest. One hand snaked its way back to one nipple while the other traversed the ridges of my abs and into my groin. Both hands played at their destination, which resulted in my voice filling the room.

My massive body, combined with the soft and careful love I am giving to my nipples and dick, has made this into the tender moment I’ve always imagined. My dick is longer than before, and the added inches make for better pleasures. Moans bubbled on my lips, and Brock’s voice filled my head like lace. Through his memories, I learned that he never had much time to experience pleasures. His body is starved for touch and attention. I am glad that I am here to finally fulfill that need.

All the fine hairs on my body stood on their ends as I reached my climax. It was as if every muscle reeled in preparation for what was to come.

Cumming twice in a single day is a feat I’ve never had the pleasure of doing before. I’d do it every day if it was this intense and nerve-breaking. Unlike the last one, this one reached beyond the corners of the coffee table in front of me. They launched into the air, leaving a blast of pleasure in their wake. Rippling waves on my skin left me moaning in beats. I am at a loss for words and definitely for air. I bent over to contain this intense excitement. I cried, laughed, and uttered a litany of Vietnamese curses to dampen these mind-prickling pleasures. I scooped my hands on the steady pour of cum, and had it spread all over my chest. A thin layer shone against the light. It was warm, somewhat disgusting, but seductively so. This is Brock’s cum– no, it’s my cum.

My body felt heavier after cumming in this body.

I lay there for minutes, but they seemed to pass like hours. I watched the steady rise and fall of my massive chest. I focused on the little things like the air bristling on my thin hair. Or how my sweat poured out of my pores and traversed the ridges of my abs. Even the sound of my breathing changed to a deep gruff tone made by my massive chest. Everything I feel is mine. This is me– the new me…

Tôi là Brock Nguyễn…

Thank you to Valagon37 for the hot story requests! I am having fun writing these stories.

#Bodysuit #Skinsuit #Male Bodysuit #Male Skinsuit #Commission #race change #Mental Change

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years

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how do you get into bookbinding? where do you start?

I took lessons for a few years in a bookbinding atelier back when I still lived in Paris; I really liked it. My grandmother also enjoyed bookbinding and she was happy to see me take up her hobby, and gave me most of her tools. The (vertical) books on the shelf below are examples of stuff I’ve made over the years (I also gave others away as birthday gifts)—I made them out of very old books that were falling apart and that I got for almost nothing in secondhand bookshops, I love the feeling of rescuing a tattered old book and making a pretty and solid new cover and re-sewing the pages into it, like those stuffed animal restoration services where old friends are made new again :)

If you want to make proper books it's a bit of an investment at first (you need a binding press, a vice, a sewing frame, a guillotine, though you can DIY cheaper alternatives to some extent) but once you have this stuff it doesn't cost much as a hobby from then on, you can use scraps of cardboard / thread / paper from previous projects (the marbled paper I bought for my last book cost me 4€ and there's plenty left to make more covers out of it—that and a new pot of glue were the only things I bought for this project.)

By 'proper' books I just mean books with signatures that are sewn with ribbons (just looked it up and discovered they are called tapes in English), have a curved spine and generally look the way we picture a cloth- or leather-bound book to look; like these:

I made these back in Paris, but I haven't yet set up a little bookbinding atelier in my barn here as I meant to do (I will, some day!), so in the meantime I make simpler bindings that require fewer tools and a smaller workspace, like the ones I mentioned—Belgian secret binding and Japanese stab binding. You can find tutorials for these online and they would be a great place to start, the Japanese one especially, it's quite easy and you only need basic supplies (a glue brush, a nail to punch holes, a boxcutter, some solid cardboard and thread...) Pictured below: a Japanese binding (on the left) and a Belgian one I made a few years ago.

I'd suggest starting with binding little booklets that you've printed out yourself (or make pretty notebooks / sketchbooks, using blank paper) with these techniques (or other basic ones); then try binding a book (removing its original cover and re-binding it with covers you've made yourself, which is what I did here). You need to pick a book that's quite slim and has large margins, as you're going to lose a lot of margin space when you sew it without signatures (that’s why I use Japanese stab binding to re-bind my favourite poetry books)

In order to bind a larger book or one with narrower margins, you'll have to make signatures (or use a book that already has them, but un-sew them and re-sew them yourself), make a proper case rather than 'loose' covers, etc, and you'll need more specialised supplies. Someone on tumblr made this extremely exhaustive Google Doc that details every step of the process, and this other Google Doc that includes links to different resources / techniques (+ a glossary of bookbinding terminology) and where to buy supplies, in the US and various other countries (it's well-researched, I was surprised to find the small shop in Paris where I buy supplies in their list!)

It can be a bit daunting when you browse these documents to see how many steps and tools are involved, which is why it’s good to start with simpler bindings (Coptic bindings, pictured above ^ are another good in-between step, as they involve signatures but no tapes or curved spines, for example), and acquire more tools and supplies gradually if you end up enjoying this hobby!

#ask #i thought of making a step by step tutorial using the pics from the last book i made but i do so much... tinkering #it would be a very bad tutorial #''do this or maybe that? cut to this length or maybe more idk. i used my instinct. it didn't work on the first try or the second #i don't remember what i did here but it worked ok. here i improvised and then used the endpapers to hide small failures''

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ivestas · 1 year

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so you know the gus boxcutter scene right? can I request some hurt/comfort of what happens after that? like maybe we help clean the blood off gus's face??

bloodied promise

Summary: Gustavo’s face was splattered with blood, so you clean it off.

Word count: 0.4k

Warnings: Blood, spoilers for season 4 ep 1 of breaking bad

Note: i didnt do any hurt/comfort cuz i didnt know how to implement it in this scenario :( but thank you for requesting! also, i love the gus requests, keep them coming, but i also do other characters, guys!! check the pinned post for the characters i accept :D

“Fuck, Gustavo, why’d you do that?”

It was a rhetorical question really, you were no fool—Gustavo hates liabilities, which is ironic considering Walter White is a walking, talking liability—but still, the brutality of it all, the goddamn spectacle of it, you can’t help but wonder if it was something else.

Silent warning? A show of anger? Something deeper?

But Gustavo didn’t answer, opting to ignore you and take off the bloodied hazmat suit in that silence.

You glance at the open door.

Walter and Jesse were gone, alongside Mike.

You were alone with him.

Good, finally.

Grabbing the kleenex box that was on top of one of the shelves, you snagged several sheets of tissue and waited for him to toss away the suit.

Still silent, he turned to you.

He lifted his chin, angling it to the side, staring at you.

“Wish you were a little more careful, or, I don’t know, de-weeding the source of the problem,” you carefully lifted the tissues, carefully dabbing away the bigger beads of blood that decorated his face. “But do what you want. But, if push comes to shove, and I know he’s to do something to you, I’ll—”

“Don’t worry,” he cut in with words that held no emotion—almost listless in its nature. “I already have plans arranged. All I need you to do is to watch quietly from a distance.”

Quietly. Distance.

Those two words cannot be applied to you, and somehow, you knew he was aware of that—some part of you just fucking knew he recognized what he asked was an impossible request from you, but… you’re always cutting past the impossible, right?

Carelessly tossing the tissues to the ground—an action that made you immediately assure Gustavo that it will be cleaned up—you grabbed another set of tissues and were rougher, dragging it across the smaller lines of blood that lined his strangely warm skin.

You were absorbed in the action, cleaning his face with inexplicable care, one that made you realize later was strangely… intimate?

“Okay,” you breathed, taking a step back, now acutely aware of how close you were—closer than you’ve ever been. “I’m done. We’re done. Your face is clean, Gus.” He didn’t say anything. You looked up at him now. “Gus?”

He was staring at you, and for a moment, you thought something was wrong—did you miss a spot? Is there blood behind his ear, somehow—?

He grabbed a tissue and with a silent tenderness wiped at your cheek.

There was blood on it?

“You were too close,” he said quietly. “You’re always too close.”

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t mean it.

And again, strangely, you felt like he knew.

#gus fring x reader #gustavo fring x reader #breaking bad x reader #better call saul x reader #female reader #requests are open

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amongussexgif · 2 months

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when i was in 5th grade i had a bunch of classmates who really liked to annoy me to the point of probably bullying and because i was undiagnosed and unmedicated i stabbed one of them in the lower stomach with boxcutters cause we had a shelf of supplies in the classroom. i havent seen him since and i think he either moved schools or died and all of the other students started treating me as some sort of violent sociopath (9 years later turns out i actually am a sociopath) and i know stabbing people is bad but honestly i felt weirdly good about it back then and still think he deserved it and i should be allowed to kill people more often with my teeth. also i wanna fuck dj octavio from splatoon (not his humanoid form either). confession over

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k-evans-reads · 11 months

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In Living Color

Chapter 23

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,886

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

May 15th, 2022

Chris craned his neck as he dug in one of the many cardboard moving boxes still scattered around Nat’s apartment, coming up empty on his search. With another sigh, he grabbed the boxcutter and opened the next box, listening to Nat humming in the other room as she searched as well.

He opened the box, eyes widening as he finally found the box with her workout clothes. It was – of course – unlabeled, a wrinkled and scattered mess inside the box from being driven up the coast, but the sight of the pairs of sneakers and workout clothes, among a few toiletries and sheet pans, was welcomed.

“Nattie! I found it!” He called over his shoulder as he sat down on the window seat with a sigh, pulling out the clothes and shoes just as Nat hurried in from her bedroom.

Her hair was falling out of the bun she’d thrown it up in, a disheveled curly mess hanging around her face. Any annoyance he felt at having to spend their morning, after he caught up on some much needed sleep from his long flight the day before, searching every box that still sat unpacked in her apartment for a single outfit disappeared at the sight of that relieved smile as she came closer to him, holding out her hands to take the things from him. “Where was it?” She asked as she held the shoes in one hand and the shorts and tank top in another.

“In this box with your kitchen shit… and a bunch of shampoo,” he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief as he tried to come up with some explanation for that logic. “Who the hell packed these boxes anyway?”

“...I was in a hurry, okay? I didn’t have time to label everything and put it all together,” she retorted with a shrug, turning to go back to the bedroom. Chris hopped off the window seat to follow her as she called over her shoulder, “Besides, what does it matter if they’re organized? You just have to unpack it all anyway.”

He brushed his hand across her lower back as he walked past her and headed to where his suitcase was open on the old wooden floor. “It matters because in moments like this it takes us a half an hour just to find your damn sneakers,” he muttered playfully, grabbing a pair of sweatpants to change into.

He had slipped into the old ensuite to brush his teeth when he heard Nat tell him, “Well Mark and Jamie helped me pack so blame them.”

“Oh yeah that sounds like a good plan, three artists packing boxes. No wonder nothing is organized,” Chris drawled sarcastically, a smirk on his lips when he caught Nat’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He leaned down, rinsing the toothbrush off before he put it back next to Nat’s in the small holder that sat on the worn countertop.

“Chris, we both know you are the organized one anyways, but you weren’t around to keep me straight,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at him as he came out of the bathroom. He rolled his eyes as he changed into his sweatpants and jammed sneakers on, just as Nat quickly changed into her tank top and added, “I’m starting to think you flew all the way from London just to make fun of me,”

“Nah, that’s just an added bonus,” he smirked, laughing loudly at her unamused expression. He sat down on her bed with a sigh, his muscles still aching from the long twelve-hour flight, and quietly pointed out, “I never even asked if you’d locked yourself in this apartment yet.”

“For your information smartass, I’ve only locked myself out of this apartment,” she corrected, her laughter echoing the room as he leaned over to smack her ass playfully.

They quieted down as Nat continued getting ready, fixing her hair before she pulled her pajama pants off. He was silent as she pulled the athletic shorts up around her waist, but his eyes were drawn to the large tattoo he caught a glimpse of, the one that he could still see below the shorts as well.

“Hey, that’s healing up really well,” he pointed out as he stood up, coming to stand behind Nat in the reflection of the standing mirror, raising a single eyebrow as he nodded his chin towards her leg.

“That first week it was so itchy but now that it’s been almost two it’s feeling really good,” Nat told him, a smile growing on her lips as he slipped his arm across her stomach. He hooked his chin on her shoulder, unable to break his eyes away from hers. He was struck, not for the first time since arriving in San Francisco late the previous night, that she’d been his for a year now. And if he had any say in it, that fact wouldn’t change for the rest of their lives.

“It looks even better in person, baby. I love it,” he complimented, turning to press a few kisses to her neck. At her silence, he raised an eyebrow again and met her eyes in the mirror, asking, “Are you still happy with it?”

Nat nodded, her empty hand moving so she could run a finger over the delicate lines of ink. “I am. I love how it came out and I just keep smiling everytime I see it.”

“I think it’s really beautiful how much thought you put into designing it,” he murmured. His eyes were drawn to the different representations of her family that he could see – Saturn for her father, a little moon for herself, Mars for Alex, a larger moon for Heather, and a hand holding them all, representing Shelly, her late mother. “I know that there are a lot of feelings surrounding your mom and everything, but I think it’s special that you incorporated something to represent her.”

“Even though I didn’t know her, she still is a big part of my life,” Nat whispered back. Her gaze avoided his in the reflection of the mirror as she glanced around the room, her hands fidgeting by her sides as she confessed, “Which honestly feels so weird at times that someone who is part of your life, also isn’t part of your life if that makes sense.”

“No, I can understand that,” Chris assured Nat. He watched as her eyes met his in the mirror, her hands wringing in front of her as a frown settled on her lips. He knew he’d never have any comparable loss to hers – a parent, one she never remembered, having lost them as a young toddler – but he understood it. He was always willing to listen to Nat, to hear the occasional confessions, and would never judge her for any of that. “She was your mother but you didn’t know her so that’s a strange dichotomy.”

Nat nodded, her eyes filled with some relief as she agreed, “It is, but I’m glad the rest of my family has memories about her so that they could talk about her so I kind of got to know her.” A small smile crossed her lips as her hand reached back to take his own, telling Chris, “Just the other day my dad was telling me how proud of me she’d be for moving here and taking this promotion.”

He smiled at those words, knowing Eric must’ve been bursting with pride. But at that mention, his heart also clenched, remembering just how completely different his own reaction was. He was proud of Nat, always, but he was too blinded by his own hesitations to see just how important this role was. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t at first,” he whispered to Nat, squeezing her hand as he hooked his chin over her shoulder.

She sighed and shook her head, her voice low and a bit strained as she said, “Chris, that wasn’t meant as a dig at you.”

“No, I know it wasn’t but I just want you to know I’m sorry for not handling all that better,” he insisted. He paused as she turned in his arms, facing him now. A small grin appeared on his lips as he looked down at Nattie, still struck that they’d been each other’s for a year – and if he was being honest, for far longer than that – already. “I love you Nattie, and that matters more to me than anything in the world.”

“I love you too, Chris,” she murmured, leaning up to press her lips to his quickly. As she pulled away from him, she smirked and her eyes twinkled when she added, “Which I think I’m proving by going on this stupid hike with you.”

He rolled his eyes, reminding her, “I thought we agreed no complaining about the hike if you get to pick where to go to dinner.”

“No you said that, I never agreed. If I’m getting dragged on a hike there’s going to be complaining,” Nat argued, laughing as he frowned and pinched her rear.

They finished getting ready, then left the old apartment and climbed down the many flights of rickety stairs before they were in the sunny San Francisco late morning. The streets weren’t too busy as they made their way over to where Nat’s car was parked, then they quickly made the drive to the trail. It was nearly lunchtime – something else Nat had realized and complained about – by the time they’d begun their hike, but getting to be alone, still technically inside of the busy city, on their anniversary, was one of the best gifts Chris could’ve asked for.

Chris shifted the backpack straps on his shoulders, feeling their water bottles inside the bag move. He squinted his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, the bright sun too strong for the frames, but he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He saw Nat stop walking ahead of him, waiting for him to catch up as she looked around.

“I still don’t understand why people enjoy doing this,” Nat mumbled, but he knew the words were only teasingly said. She hadn’t been exactly… over the moon when he sent a link to a local hiking trail for them to do during his short visit to San Francisco, but she’d been more than open to the idea after a bit of discussion. But still, Nat was Nat, and she wouldn’t let a moment go by without some chance for banter.

His hand dropped from holding the strap of the bag to instead slap Nat’s ass lightly as he informed her, “Because it’s fun to be out in nature, so shut the fuck up and be happy.”

“Yeah that really made my mood just brighten up,” Nat laughed, batting his hand away as her laughter echoed off of the large trees.

Chris’ eyes flicked down to Nat’s rear as they made their way up the steep trail side-by-side, watching the way her muscles tensed beneath the running shorts with the action. “With the way your ass looks in those workout shorts, I think I’m going to drag you hiking more often,” he informed her quietly, despite knowing they weren’t near anyone else for at least a solid mile.

Nat laughed loudly at those words, shaking her head with a smirk as she suggested, “How about I wear them at home while sitting on the couch painting? That seems like a better compromise…”

“You’re being a brat, I hope you know that,” Chris informed her, smiling to himself as they kept making their way further up the trail.

“Oh I do, I just don’t care,” Nat giggled, reaching up to bat a fly away from her face. They fell silent for a moment as they kept hiking and listened to the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees above them before she added, “In all seriousness, I’m really glad you’re here Chris. I know how exhausted you must be after just getting done with filming and then flying out here.”

He frowned a bit as he listened to her words, knowing it wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d been working on his latest film, one for Apple, since mid-February, and they’d wrapped with three days of filming in London the previous week. He’d already sent Dodger home with Josh, his longtime friend and personal assistant, prior to leaving Atlanta for London, and then had flown directly from London to San Francisco, getting in the previous day. He’d wanted to be with Nat for their anniversary, even if it meant an eleven-hour flight and a day of sleeping after he got in. “It’s worth it to be with you,” he told her honestly, his voice soft.

“I’m just glad we’re okay, now,” she whispered, gently reaching to take his hand in hers as they walked. She was quiet for a moment before she admitted, “My dad didn’t even believe it when I told him we had broken up.”

He frowned a little, knowing this entire mess was on him for walking out in a fury in the first place. “I’m sure Alex wanted to kill me and probably still does,” he sighed.

She was silent for a few moments before delicately confessing, “Well… kind of, yeah.”

“Ma was worried sick about both of us that week. She’d text me every day and ask me how I was,” Chris supplied, wanting to shift the focus off of Nat for a bit. He’d been practically embarrassed when he realized he’d have to tell not only his mother and father, but also his siblings, who Nat had grown so so close to, about their sudden split. It was humiliating to tell them the news, there was no other way to say it. Telling his Ma, when she asked how Nat was and what he and Nat were up to together during their call that night he’d arrived in LA…. it sucked. Then hearing from his sisters as they found out, and Scott… that hurt the most out of his siblings, since Scott and Nat had grown close in LA over the last year as well. He squeezed her hand gently in his own, adding, “She also told me just the other day that she thought about calling you so many times to check on you but didn’t want to overstep.”

Nat smiled faintly at those words, admitting to him, “Honestly I would have been fine with it, I love her so much.” He laughed at that, knowing it was true. She and Lisa had developed such a close relationship since they’d met back in October, between calling each other often, connecting on social media, and also with Nat’s latest visit to Boston in February. It was a little reminiscent, in Chris’ own mind, of how Nat’s relationship with Shelly might look if things had gone differently.

“Scott just told me how fuckin’ stupid I was,” Chris informed her with a chuckle, then he shrugged as Nat laughed loudly. ��Which was fair.”

“I think we’ve both agreed that both of us were equally at fault,” Nat amended as she swung their joined hands between them. With her free hand, she pushed her sunglasses further up her nose as she whispered to him, “I’m just glad you showed up outside that elevator.”

Chris smiled, knowing that his last-ditch effort to fix this turned out to be the best decision of his entire life. “I just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you,” he admitted, reaching his free hand to adjust the strap of the bag again as he and Nat kept hiking.

They were both quiet for a while as they reached the top of the trail – and if he had to guess, Nat was thinking ‘finally’. As they stood at the top of the trail, overlooking the Bay and feeling the strong breeze, Nat admitted to him, “If it’s any consolation, I was planning on calling you once I got settled in here.”

He turned, looking down at her in surprise as he asked, “Were you, really?”

“I really was.”

Nat adjusted the basket of laundry in her arms as she tried – and failed – to sneak into the bedroom without waking Chris. The creaky door was too loud to be ignored as Chris’ eyes opened suddenly from where he was laying on his side beneath the fluffy duvet, his hair sticking up every which way.

Although she’d ruined the last of his nap, there was a small smile that crossed his lips once they locked eyes. She gently dropped the laundry basket to the bed, watching as he slowly sat up with a yawn as he woke up more.

“What time is it?” He asked, his voice gravelly as he ran a hand through his messy hair, attempting to flatten it a bit.

Nat turned her bedside lamp on, watching the way Chris jerked a bit as his eyes adjusted to the light. “Almost five,” she told him quietly as she reached for her laundry, moving to put it in the dresser behind her.

He nodded, yawning loudly before he pushed the duvet off of his bare chest. “I better get up, I need to take a shower before dinner,” he mumbled as he turned to get up off of the bed.

“Baby, we can just stay in. We don’t need to go out to dinner,” she tried to reason, watching him stretch, the muscles in his back rippling. “I’m sure you’re still exhausted from filming.”

He made his way around the bed, arching a single eyebrow as he passed her. “I’m not missing taking you out on our one year anniversary,” he told her, his voice firm and decisive.

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her leggings, turning to put them in the drawer as he stepped into the tiny ensuite bathroom. “Well you’re going to be here for like four more days so we have plenty of time to go out,” she called, listening as Chris scoffed.

Through the open door, Nat could see him reach into the shower, turning on the water for the shower. His head popped out of the bathroom one last, a firm look on his face as he replied, “I’m taking my Nattie out tonight,” just before he shut the door behind him to shower.

Once they were both ready, they walked hand-in-hand to the highly-rated restaurant only a few blocks from Nat’s apartment, slipping into a table tucked in the back corner that had been reserved under Nat’s name. As they settled into the plush chairs in the dim lighting with glasses of wine in their hands, Chris peered at Nat over the menu. “I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask you yet how you feel like everything is going,” he began, pausing before he added, “Like with your job and moving here.”

Nat took a long sip of the red wine, hesitating. “Well… it’s kind of hard to say right now. I mean, I’ve only been doing it for two weeks,” she slowly said, shrugging her shoulders. It just all still felt so unfamiliar to her, even outside of work, that she never felt as though she could relax fully.

The sounds of her neighbors walking around, the creak of every door, floorboard, and cabinet in her apartment, to needing to pull up Google Maps so she could find the grocery store…. It was all things she never remembered noticing back when she moved to Los Angeles over a decade ago, and now at this point in her life… she hated the readjustment, especially while alone.

He arched an eyebrow at her, giving her a suspicious look. “Ten days at work means that’s nine more days than you need to make friends,” he pointed out with an amused smirk. “Didn’t you become friends with Mark on your first day?”

“Yeah I like everyone, but I haven’t really had a chance to connect with anyone in particular yet,” Nat told him, her voice quiet. She took another sip of wine to buy herself time, her eyes dancing around the dining room over Chris’ shoulder before she explained, “They’re all kind of close and I’m the new one coming in so it’s just different I guess.”

“I know you’ll settle in,” Chris assured Nat. Her eyes followed his movements as he put the menu down on the table, reaching for a small piece of bread from the basket between them. “Have you gotten to explore San Francisco much?” He asked her with genuine interest, and she felt her shoulders slouch at the question.

“Not yet,” she murmured, following his lead and taking some bread as she cleared her throat. “It’s been kind of weird being somewhere new again. It’s been almost fifteen years since I moved to LA so it’s just an adjustment.” Having made the decision to take this new role, Nat knew there’d be an adjustment period. But she’d forgotten how it felt to be somewhere new without anyone there with her, welcoming her home each day, exploring the city, visiting local restaurants, and getting acclimated together. Sure, she still had her friends, and she’d see Jamie when he came up every few weeks for meetings, but she was alone. Entirely alone, at the stage in her life where she felt ready to begin thinking about taking the next step. She loved what she did, but was finding it hard to muster the energy to face the next few days sometimes, let alone make it to the final deadline for the projects.

Chris nodded, his expression sympathetic, but obviously unaware of the true depths of what she was feeling. “I can understand that but I’m sure once you get your apartment all set up and get into your routine, it’ll be better,” he assured her, his voice certain.

“And my dad is coming to visit next weekend so I’ll maybe get to see around the city when he comes,” she said more to herself than anyone, feeling like having Chris here now and her dad’s visit coming up shortly after was a little lifeline to her while she tried to settle in.

With a warm smile on his bearded face, Chris replied with, “I’m sure you will, and I can unpack a bunch of your stuff while you’re at work tomorrow.”

“It’s just hard to adjust. I miss Los Angeles and my friends there and the Disney campus and just the… the life I had there,” Nat’s voice was soft as she stared down at the bit of wax dripping down the lit candle on the table, feeling nothing but disheartened about how things were starting here in San Francisco.

“I know it’s not easy, especially since it has been so long since you moved but I know you’ll get used to the new place. It’ll be fine, Nattie, just wait and give it time,” he tried to encourage her genuinely. She knew that Chris could see that unsure look on her face, prompting him to go on to point out, “I’m sure when you moved to Los Angeles it wasn’t easy either, but it was worth it because that’s what you wanted to do. Now this is what you want to do so it’ll be worth it too.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter returned to take their order, and Nat quickly ordered her food before Chris took his time, ordering them a couple different things to share as well.

She mulled over his words as he ordered, letting them sink in. Nat couldn’t help but begin to wonder if this really was what she wanted to do. With all that had happened between this promotion coming out of the blue, her exhaustion from the past few months of working like crazy, being apart from Chris and then ultimately fighting with him over this job while her family and friends were all encouraging her to take it, had taken its toll on her. This promotion had seemed like the perfect opportunity, it seemed to solve a lot of problems with her schedule and ticked that box in her heart telling her that she had made her family proud and worked hard enough to turn her passion into a full fledged career.

But moving here and taking on this new job for the past two weeks hadn’t been as fulfilling as she’d expected it to be. She hadn’t woken up excited to go to work like she used to. She hadn’t been bubbling with excitement for her lunch break with her friends as she loaded her tray with the soft serve machine. She hadn’t been able to feel like this place was her home yet… in fact she didn’t even feel like she fit in. But then again, it had only been two weeks. Maybe she just was expecting too much or wanting some lightbulb moment that didn’t really exist.

She tried to remind herself that what Chris said was probably true, that she just needed time to settle in and get adjusted. In the back of her mind though were those other words Chris said weeks earlier when he told her that this job wasn’t her or what she wanted. She remembered him inferring that she was just getting caught up in wanting to succeed, that she had lost sight of what it was that she wanted. That thought seemed to linger in her mind, wondering if Chris had known her better than she’d known herself in that moment and that maybe deep down this wasn’t the right decision.

At the lingering thoughts in her mind, the stubborn part of her personality seemed to kick in. Nat knew that this was what she should be doing. This job was the normal path to keep succeeding and moving up, not to mention having better hours and more flexibility moving forward. She was determined to make this work and knew that she just had to try harder to adjust to her new life. This evening though, she didn’t want her thoughts to be consumed by her job, and instead wanted to fixate on the fact that the man she was madly in love with and sitting across the table from her now had been in her life for an entire year.

“I’m just glad you’re here with me,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. She reached out over the small table, holding his hand tightly.

“I am too, baby,” he answered easily, a wide grin on his lips as he squeezed her hand tightly. “I certainly never thought that when I said yes to doing Lightyear that I’d not only be getting my dream job, but my dream girl.”

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him as she sarcastically replied, “Yeah I’m really glad I could sweep you off your feet by slamming into that glass door for your first impression of me.”

“I was pretty hooked on you from day one,” Chris added, his bright blue eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the restaurant. He leaned back in his seat as he held her hand still, adding, “And I still am.”

“If you would have told me when we met during that meeting that I’d be sitting across from you celebrating our anniversary, I would have laughed my head off. I would have said there was absolutely no way,” Nat admitted to him. She could have never predicted having any sort of friendship with Chris back when they first – briefly – met during that daily. But through some pull and some way, they’d grown closer, forming a friendship before it eventually evolved into… this. This absolute greatest love she had known and would ever know.

“I’m pretty glad things worked out the way they did,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed her hand a few times as he added, “I love you, Nattie.”

“I love you too, Chris,” she replied easily, knowing she’d never hesitate to tell him that. “And I just keep loving you more.”

“I hope you know, I’m not planning on this being it. We got a lot more anniversaries to celebrate, for the rest of our lives.”

As Chris spoke those words, Nat knew in her heart that it would be true. Somehow she just knew that they were going to be together because all of this just felt so… right. She knew they were meant for one another and both of them were determined not to let anything get in the way of that again. It felt like so many things were up in the air right now for Nat. She was trying to figure out a new job, settle into a new city, and basically start this new chapter of her life and all of it just seemed so overwhelming. Sometimes she just felt so lost, wondering if this was the right thing to do or how it would play out, but through all of this uncertainty there was one thing in her life that she was completely sure of, and that was Chris.

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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obligatory ask for like a poem part 4 and can i just say you are absolutely churning these out, writing so fast (and the quality is still immaculate it's kind of unreal) and I LOVE IT keep em coming keep em coming keep em coming

thaaaaaaaaaanks babeeeee wordcount: 2.6K ----------

Like A Poem

part one - part two - part three – part four - part five

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you earlier, but we’re not opening next Saturday so you'll have the day off,” you handed Anne a boxcutter.

“Why?” she immediately put it to use and ripped it through thick cardboard.

“Some people rented the store out for something.”

“Like a wedding?” Anne started taking books from the package and handed them to you to lay them out in the store window, dressing it to your best ability.

“No, it’s for a photoshoot for a magazine. They want to use the store as a backdrop.” You tried your very best to remain ultra-casual about it, but you’d lie if you said it wasn’t a little exciting.

“What magazine?”

Oh. You realized you had no idea. You’d only contacted the photographer and had just discussed practicalities.

“I’m not sure actually, but they’re paying enough to still give you a shift’s worth, even though you won’t need to come in.” You wanted to be a good boss and pay Anne what she had expected to be getting at the end of the month.

“I could still come, help out where needed?” Anne shrugged. Her hard exterior sometimes let some softness slip through. Never much, though.

“I wouldn’t know what you’d be needed for to be honest, it’s just going to be Joe and-”

“Joe?” Anne interrupted.

Fuck. You slipped up. You had hoped you wouldn’t have had to get into any detail. You really enjoyed how Joe had anonymity in your store and having to fill Anne in could absolutely ruin that. You mentally kicked yourself for it.

“Yea, and maybe four or five others, I think,”

Please don’t press it, please don’t ask any further questions.

“Is he a photographer?”

“No,” you sighed. “He’s the one they’ll be taking the photos of.”

“For what? Joe’s ugly.” Anne tossed the empty box aside to grab a new one, ripping it open swiftly.

You let out a hearty laugh at Anne’s face. It wasn’t quite displaying disgust, but definitely some hefty confusion. She was so very openly not impressed with him, you loved it. You realized then that, actually, it didn’t matter if she knew. You trusted it wouldn’t really change her opinion of him.

“Joe’s an actor. And he’s considered… known? Sort of?”

She didn’t really respond, but you could see gears turn in her mind.

“Do you watch a lot of TV? Films?” you tried.

“No.” Anne stopped what she was doing to look at you. “I read books.” she deadpanned. Like it was obvious.

“Yea, that… makes sense.” You had looked at her through narrow eyes and then agreed it was.

Anne ended up accepting she wouldn’t have to come in next Saturday, and you didn’t speak of the matter again. You had a good look around the store, imagining how it would look through a camera lens. You thought maybe you could get Anne to neaten some shelves, make the place look more presentable, but then had decided against it. Anne could maybe do some extra dusting, but that’d be all.

Saturday came around fast.

They had shown up early in the morning, and you had welcomed them in, giving them free range, all access, to set up for the shoot. Joe wasn’t with them and you assumed he’d show up once they were ready for him.

You hadn’t known where to stand, afraid you’d be in the way as four men roamed around, placing lights, unfolding tripods, moving the ladders - someone brought in a full rack of clothing and more things from their car outside… it was a lot of kerfuffle and you had silently retreated to the breakroom to escape it.

They had put music on, and you had really liked their selection. Bear’s Den, Ben Howard, Mumford & Sons and the like filled the store. It was nice.

You had to move your laptop to the very edge of the table when someone, you assumed the stylist, used it for products – hair and make-up. Then shortly after the clothing rack found its way in too.

The door had been left wide open as they walked in and out and it let in a nice breeze you could feel all the way in the back where you were sat. You could hear small beeps and the shutter of a camera from test shots they were doing, and you kind of enjoyed how these strangers had gotten to work with comfortability in your store, around your things.

“What do you think?” You heard Joe’s voice outside. He had arrived. “Isn’t it so good?”

You felt your heart swell when you heard the enthusiasm in his voice as he spoke about your store to one of the other guys out by their car, just outside of the entrance.

“It’s actually better than the other spot we had in mind, well done,”

The one that fell through, you thought. Had it really fallen through, though? Or had it been an option, something they had discussed as a possible location until Joe had suggested your bookstore? You thought you were doing Joe a favour when you agreed to this, but now you had your suspicions. Maybe one day, if you had the balls, you’d confront him about it if you could remember.

You weren’t sure why, but seeing Joe walk in and greet his friends in there made you feel a little out of place. Shy, almost. He had gone out of his way to find you, just to give you a smile and say hi and your stomach had done flips.

About an hour later, the shoot really got going. Joe was practically dressed like a librarian, a little too on the nose for you, but he looked good. Hot. You had stationed yourself back in the breakroom after having stepped out shortly to give Joe space to get ready, and you were trying your best to get some administrative work done. You really could use the day to catch up on the more boring things.

But then after a little bit Joe walked in and invaded your space, along with who you gathered was the stylist for this occasion. Before you even had the option to politely excuse yourself so they could have the room for Joe’s wardrobe change, Joe was getting undressed, entirely unphased by your presence.

You made sure to keep your eyes firmly glued to your laptop screen, thinking that maybe if you stayed really still, they wouldn’t see you. Like meerkats would do, except you didn’t exactly blend in with your surroundings.

Right. Focus. Orders. You needed to look at what books to order.

But you were a victim to your own ardour and flicked your eyes up to look at Joe. You could see the muscles of his arms move under his skin as he snaked them into a shirt. Then cuffs were rolled up, and you thought to yourself how men rolling up the sleeves of their shirt really was the most non-sexual turn on you could think of. That, and men reversing cars and putting their arm ‘round the back of the passenger seat as they'd check over their shoulder. Oof.

Then you caught sight of the body-hair on Joe’s torso as the stylist started buttoning the shirt up and you involuntarily cleared your throat in reaction, calling unwanted attention to yourself.

“Coffee?” you asked when two pairs of eyes found you blushing in your seat, and you quickly got up and turned to the kitchenette to hide your burning cheeks.

The day was long, and it dragged on a bit, you thought. You had been standing outside to look in through the window as they were taking photos of Joe up on one of the ladders. It was perfect; you were out of their way, got some fresh air and could look at Joe from the point of view of the photographer. They really had seen every last inch of the store; you were sure this would be the last set of pictures they would take. You were leaning against the window frame, arms crossed in front of you, the reflection of the sun on the window slightly obscuring your view, but somehow adding to the surreality of the moment.

The photographer pointed up at Joe as he told him to grab a book to pretend to read. You saw Joe carefully reach for one, and your breath hitched in your throat when you saw him take hold of the one book in your store you’d never sell.

And Joe’s eyes found yours through the window, twinkling eyes, all smiles, and you could feel yourself slipping, falling deeper in love with him, unable to deny it now.

“Careful,” you whispered a warning to your heart. “Careful now.”

The next day, Joe had come in and sat in his spot. He’d brought in his notebook again, and you gathered there was more research that needed doing for a job. It felt a little weird after having seen him as the focal point of a professional photoshoot the day before. Joe had been actor Joseph Quinn in here. And now he was the bookstore’s regular silent reader again, like yesterday never happened.

Anne had bluntly told Joe she had googled him.

“You have?” Joe spoke to her like she was a six-year-old, eyebrows raised high, his lips pulled into a small smirk, but not looking up from his writing. It granted a laugh from you. Anne had in response just looked at him, blank faced, and then she had looked at you the same. No further words were spoken on the subject.

It had taken a little while for Joe to see any of the photographs taken, but when he had received a couple of them in an e-mail, he had slapped his laptop shut to take it with him to show you.

He was almost skipping down the street towards the store, excited for your reaction. He didn’t need you to see him in the photos, he needed you to see how whimsical and kaleidoscopic your store looked in them.

But when Joe passed the window of the bookstore before getting to the door, he noticed that it looked uncharacteriscally dark inside. And when he wanted to open the door, ready to lean into it with his full body weight, he was abruptly stopped.

Locked.

The sign on the door read closed. Joe peered inside, but it was empty. He then checked his watch; ten past four. Closed on a Friday afternoon.

Weird.

Maybe you had just taken a day off. Joe had never thought about your work schedule, and realized that since meeting you, you’d been open every day of the week. It had never crossed his mind that you didn’t get days off, which obviously now, it made sense that some days the store would be closed. You deserved breaks like any other person. Joe just didn’t like that it meant he wouldn’t get to come into his favourite place. And without warning too.

A little disappointed, Joe decided then that he’d come back the next day. He could show you the images then.

The next day, Joe had gone back, and it had just gone past ten. Still closed. But on a Saturday? Something wasn’t adding up, Joe thought. Could he text you and ask? He did have your number now, but he hadn’t used it yet. Joe decided against it. For now. Maybe later.

He had gone for breakfast somewhere, got his coffee fix someplace else and he hadn’t liked it. After that, he decided he’d walk by the store once more, just to check, in case you’d just been a little late opening that day.

But he could see it from a fair ways away: still dark inside. No A frame out front.

When he got closer, he saw that something had changed though. An armchair seemed to be missing, and when he finally stood right in front of the window, Joe saw you.

You had turned one of the armchairs away from the window, so it was now facing into the store, and Joe could see the top of your head peeking out just above the backrest. He tried taking a few steps to the left, and then to the right, but there was no angle for him to see your face or to catch your attention. All he could see was that you had curled up, settled deep into the plush cushions, a throw blanket over your lap and you were reading a book you were halfway through already.

For a second he toyed with the idea of knocking on the window, but then he saw you pull your sleeve over your hand, and bring it up to your face to press it firmly into your cheeks, blotting both sides.

You were crying.

Joe then realized you had probably turned the chair away from the window for a reason, and he didn’t want to intrude. He could show you the photographs another time, when the store would be open, and when you wouldn’t be wiping tears from your face. Joe hoped that the reason for your tears had just been a sad book. That nothing else had happened that was bad enough for you to not open up shop. He lingered by the window entirely too long, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave. You were crying. And even though you had kept a somewhat professional distance from Joe, all he really wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and make it better.

And then you had gotten up from your seat, and Joe watched you, messy hair and comfortable clothes, disappear into the back.

When you walked back out, carefully clutching a mug of steaming tea with both hands, you saw him. Joe.

He was just standing there, his face inches away from the glass and it had stopped you in your tracks. For a second, you just looked at each other, your cheeks tear stained and chest still spasming from crying, actively hyperventilating still but trying your best to struggle through staying calm and you saw deep sympathy etched into Joe’s face.

Joe knew from the moment he laid eyes on your face that it couldn’t have been just a book. Something was wrong, and every fiber in Joe’s being screamed at him to fix it.

You didn’t know what to do, but when Joe nodded his head towards the door, you made your way over to unlock it. Joe was allowed in, you decided.

“You’re closed.” Joe said when you opened the door for him. You nodded; glad it wasn’t a question that needed an answer from you. Joe felt his chest tighten when he heard how erratic your breathing was.

“I was looking for a mensroom.” Joe reminded you of the first time he’d walked into the store months ago. You couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth a little, your eyes still wet.

“We have-” your stuttered breath interrupted your speech. “We have one in the back.” You replied the way you'd done back then and stepped aside to let Joe in, locking the door back up behind him.

“Can I…?” Joe didn’t finish his question but took hold of the armchair that was still in the window and pushed it to place it next to the other one. And then he had stepped toward a display, had let his eyes scan over a few books before picking one up and sitting down.

There he was. In your granddad’s armchair. Quiet. Reading. Just there, exactly where you needed him.

part five ------

The Taglisted: @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana461010 @emmamooney @xomunson - add yourself

#like a poem #part 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #fanfiction #requested #joe x reader

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