#so hopefully... she will be in the living room tonight. but we'll see

[piplupod]

I think I'm going to have to move my entire sleep setup (aka whole bed) into a different room or something because mother is going to be very sick for a very long while (potentially a few months) and therefore will be doing her restless sleep walking around and sitting in the loud chair in the room above my bedroom ;-;

I feel awful for her ofc but oh dear god I do not know how I'm going to cope with sleeping in any other room because the bugs are So Bad in every room that isn't my bedroom

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine this: having four kids with logan au

Overhearing Logan helping your son when he's struggling

note: I think this will be a continuous imagine with just little situations with the family it will have the 'having four kids with logan au' tag

Theo, was your oldest son, he was now 15, he looked a lot like Logan, though he had your eyes and you couldn't believe that your baby not your baby anymore. He'd been extra emotional lately, taking his anger out on you, Logan, and his younger siblings.

Logan knew he had to prepare for this if he had children, his anger issues would most likely pass on. But he also knew that the anger was misdirected, that there was something wrong and he was asking for help. So, when Theo marched into the house, throwing his bag down, heading downstairs to his room and slamming the door shut. His younger brother, Parker, sighed looking over at his brother before going into a kitchen for his afternoon snack. You went after him, going down and knocking on his door.

"Leave me alone!"

"Baby-." You tried.

"I don't want to talk to you." Theo spat.

"Well I'm here if you do, alright?" You didn't hear anything from the other side, your heart breaking a bit as you turned to see your youngest, Sophie, she was three and she moved over to you. She had the biggest heart, and she was really close with Theo.

"Is Teo sad?" She asked, pointing at the door from the top of the stairs.

"He just needs some alone time, baby."

You brought Sophie to the living room, setting her up at her dollhouse and a snack, she knew to keep her snack at the top of her doll house so your dog, Charlie, wouldn't be able to reach it.

Your middle child, Valley, would be getting picked up by Logan on his way home from work. She always stayed after school to spend time with her friends, or going home to play with them. Some days you picked her up to bring her friend's home or if she had low energy. But she was the most social child, but you also understood her on a different level as she struggled with social cues or 'saying the right thing'. She found her group though; she always did and you'd always be there to guide her through it. Hopefully she can do the same for Sophie, though you would always be there for her too.

She rushed through the door and Logan stepped in after her, taking off his boots before following behind her. "Hey baby." He grinned, coming over to and wrapping an arm around you to pull you and kiss your lips.

"Hey, can you go check on Theo?" You pressed, your eyes scanning his, he understood the look in your eyes, leaning in to kiss your cheek. He goes over to Sophie, before crouching as she talked him about the doll in her hand, he kisses her head before standing up. As he started towards Theo's room, Parker skidded in front of his dad and started going on about soccer practice tonight. Logan volunteered to coach for his team.

"Hey, bud, we can talk about this on the way to soccer alright?" Logan started as Parker went on to talk, a look of defeat came over your son's face. Then Logan clapped him on the shoulder and looked down into his eyes, "Maybe we'll practice your drill, tonight."

"Really?" Parker's eyes lit up, as he smiled over at his dad. Your chest ached a bit as you knew Logan never wanted any of his kids to feel left out or less loved than another. You knew you had the same worry, it's the reason why you decide four kids rather than five. Logan didn't want more than three and Sophie was a very wanted oops. It just seemed like the missing piece of the puzzle. So even though your fantasies were filled with more children, now you couldn't imagine having any more.

Parker came into the living room, getting his video games set up as he rested on the couch. You went downstairs to start on laundry and also overhear little parts of the conversation Logan and Theo were having. You knew that Logan would fill you in later but your worry sadly outweighed privacy. It wasn't something you were proud of, and you were working on it.

"Theo, you're our baby, you are the one who truly started this family, I love you with all of my heart, you are strong, and you're going to live a happy long life. You kids are everything to me and your mom, something I'll never know how to truly express. I know you don't wanna upset mom but she'd understand what your going through."

"I-I just don't know why I feel this way." Theo cried.

"Your mom and I have always struggled with mental illness, and we aren't here for a lack of trying. All you have to do is try, alright?"

"Okay."

"How about we go for a walk in the morning?"

"That sounds good." Theo murmured, before their voices faded, as you started the dryer before grabbing a laundry basket and walking up the stairs just as Theo's door opened and Logan walked out. As you turned your head, his eyebrow quirked up as a small smile came over his face as he shook his head. He definitely knew you were eavesdropping.

"I'll look up some therapists, tonight." You said, softly as Logan got to the top of the stairs as you leant down to put the basket on the floor. His arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you tightly, his head in the dip of your neck.

"Are you upset?" He asked, his voice calm and soft.

"No, I'm just glad he opened up to you." You breathed, rubbing at his forearm as he started swaying the two of you back and forth.

"Mom! Sharlie got my crackers!" Sophie yelped from the living room, as Logan chuckled as you sighed, he kissed your cheek before letting you go. As you started towards the living room, you turned to see Logan grab the laundry basket before heading towards your room down the hall.

"Coming baby!"

[anakinsbunniee]

Having more silly thoughts about Farmer!Anakin!!

It was quiet. Too quiet. A few minutes ago before the air around you had turned silent, you heard and saw Anakin hammering against the fences outside while watching him from the little pink window of the kitchen. At first, he refused to paint it pink, but how could he deny the wishes of his wife who's also the mother of his sweet baby girl?

With a loud sigh, he turned around, looking at you inside the house. He throws the hammer back into his tool box and makes a little 'cmere' motion with his fingers. He seemed mad.

You put your baby into her crib, stroking her cheek one last time while she squeals, before quickly walking outside to your garden. Some of the lambs immediately run up to you, and with a loud giggle, you push yourself through the herd.

“Hun..you remember what you told me in the morning? Before I left for the market.” He asks strictly, holding you softly with his rough hands at your hips.

“Uhh..mhm hm! I told you that I love you and that I'll cook your favourite dinner tonight!” 

“Yeeees baby, but that's not what I mean,” he replies, trying to keep up his tough guy facade. You were just so sickly sweet; he could never stay mad at you.

With a sigh, he points towards the clothes line where your towels and some of his shirts are hanging. “You promised you'd get the clothes off and fold them together before I came back.”

"Awhhhh that, I forgot. I'm sorry..I was playing with the baby the whole time and completely forgot.” You mumbled, looking down a little.

To others, it would seem irrelevant. 'Oh, she didn't get the clothes and towel off, horribleeee’. But for you, it was bad. Anakin did everything for you. Paid the bills, worked around the house and farm, ect. Yet, you couldn't even remember to fold the clothes together.

“Sigh. It's fine, baby. I'm not mad, okay? Let's do it together, alright? We'll be faster that way.” He replied with a smile, wiping his hands with a cloth before putting it back into his pockets.

He lays a hand on the small of your back and leads you to the clothing line. When he noticed the tears in your glossy eyes he sighed. “Don't cry..I told you it's fine, alright?” He picks up the basket and starts to take the clothes and towels off the clothing line with you while folding them in the air. His muscles were just begging to get out of that tight shirt he was wearing:(

“See? 's waaaay quicker this way.” He commented, following you while you carried the basket back inside your little house you called home.

While you carry it upstairs, he goes to pick up your baby out of her crib in the living room, holding her softly while kissing her all over her chubby face. She squeals and reaches out for his collar with her small fists.

“Hopefully you don't grow up to be as clueless as your mama..” 

[bunnysbrainrot]

Bourbon and Mead

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader, Jackson!AU

Content: Alcohol consumption, flirting, slow-burn tension, slow dancing with Joel, teasing, POV switch. Bear with me, folks, this'll be worth it.

Summary: It's been a busy first week in Jackson, but you're finally starting to feel at home. Even still, you haven't made many new connections, but hopefully tonight's big event can help. Despite your nerves, you go anyway, and see some familiar faces.

Word Count: 4,300+

It had been just under a week since your patrol with Joel and his group, and you're settling in rather well. For such a shabby spot, you have decorated your living space impressively, and it settles something in you. After so long, you're really starting to have a place to call home.

Knock, knock, knock.

The noise shakes you out of a stupor, and you make your way to the heavy wooden door, and tug it open to reveal a friendly face, Maria.

You've had little chance to interact with new people since arriving in Jackson - when you're working as a community this directly, a hell of a lot of work goes into it. Which means, everyone's busy. Just about constantly. That being said, outside of your own room, Maria has been your only companion.

She can sense your loneliness, too, but she hasn't let on. The last thing you needed was the pressure of making a name of yourself in the first few days, so she had kept you busy with chores, patrols, hunts, you name it. To her, that plan would help you adjust to how Jackson functioned as a whole, so you could have the foundation of being a community member, to get your bearings.

Her smile is bright as she speaks, "Hey, sweetheart, just wanted to let y'know about the dance happening tonight. If you're feeling up for it, you should stop by."

The offer erupts a warmth in your chest.

"The dance?" You ask eagerly.

Maria nods, "Used to call it a square dance, but not enough folks know how to, so it's more of a get-together now, but we'll have music, drinks, the whole nine."

It doesn't take long for you to choose your answer. You cheerfully tell Maria, "That sounds wonderful. Where is it, and when does it start?"

She starts to describe the layout of the nearby buildings to the dance, waving her hands in front of her methodically, "But trust me, you won't be able to miss it. Just follow the music." Maria ends her sentence with a wink.

"What do I wear?"

There's a beat as she looks you over, and past your shoulder to your chest of drawers, which she helped stock when you first arrived.

Maria waves a hand dismissively as she replies, "Some people take the chance to dress up, some people dress down. You do whatever you're comfortable with, honey."

You flash her a grateful smile, and she issues a small goodbye before walking off.

---

A good few hours buffers you before the dance. The optional dance, but something in you will stop at nothing to go. You need to see people, have some laughs, live a little.

You take your sweet time getting ready, too. Some downtime is well deserved and rare, but it gives you the perfect window of time - debating on your outfit takes the longest. You opt for a casual hairdo, one that won't get your neck all hot and sweaty once you start dancing. The watch on your left wrist reads 6:47 PM up at you.

Whooping voices can be heard outside your window as people saunter down the street, toward the festivities, you assume. You sneak a peek through the curtains, eyeing a gaggle of townsfolk laughing alongside one another. Their eyes are bright, voices uplifted and loud. The men clap each other on the shoulder aggressively, while the women jab each other in the sides with their elbows. There wasn't much to make out, but whatever they were joking about had them roaring with laughter.

Seeing the crowd inspires you to make way out the door. You ensure all your lights are off, save for your nightstand lamp to come back to an inviting space. A deep breath later, and you were out the door, too.

There's a new feeling in the air, and you can place it precisely. Upbeat music plays far down the small Jackson streets, but its effects are widespread. All around, the other residents beam brightly as they go about the evening. Most people nearest you exchange small 'hello's' and wave politely, others still smile your way. Tightness wells in your chest as you realize just how long it had been since you'd seen so many friendly faces.

The music's volume eventually blares as you near the open area for the dance. The weather proves to be fair enough to host the event outside, so rows of string lights hang between nearby poles and sides of buildings. In the back of the venue is a group of people wielding a variety of instruments, nodding and bouncing with the quick beat of what you knew as bluegrass music.

"Hey, look who's here!" A voice calls out. You glance around until you realize the call was for your attention. You turn to the voice and recognize the woman from last week's patrol, who'd given you the rundown of who your partners were.

You greet her in return before registering the rest of the group. A few of them could be familiar around town, but for the most part, new faces.

Except for one.

Joel's eyes aren't on yours when you find him in the group. He's looking to one of the men, seemingly in a deep conversation. Perhaps he could feel your eyes on him, because his eyes flicker to yours for a split second. He pauses, lets his conversation partner speak, while he gives you a polite nod, before turning back to the man.

The fluttering in your gut was a dead giveaway, this is why you wanted to come. The prospect of seeing Joel again was exciting, but usually slim. And here he was. If only he could just move on from his conversation...

A hand lands on your arm comfortingly. The kind woman tells you, "It's so good to see you again! How have you been settling in?"

There's a twinge of an accent in her words, Southern, but more subtle. Her words are as soft as a hug.

"It's been going alright, finally getting to decorating," you start. The woman listens. Wait... did she ever introduce herself? Shit. How were you supposed to see someone this much without knowing their name?

"That was the best part when I got here. Once I had my space set up, it really felt like home," she replies.

There's a beat of silence between you, and it breaks when you ask, "I'm sorry if this is awkward, but I never got your name the first time we met." You briefly introduce yourself before she replies.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, "I'm Cara. I never introduced myself, but I wanted you to have at least be one friendly face here."

"I'm thankful for it, I really am. It feels better now that we have names to the faces," you offer with a nervous smile.

Cara looks at you mischievously, softly grabbing your bicep, "Let's get a drink. Whaddya say?"

That kind offer melts your anxiety away, and all that's left is you, Cara, and the joy of sharing a drink with a friend. In moments, you have a glass of homemade mead in your hand.

Someone else from the group calls Cara over, so for a moment you're left alone with your cup of fermented honey goodness. It's sweet, slightly bitter, but leaves your stomach feeling warm as it settles. The burn in your throat is numbed by the warmth in your belly. You make it back to Cara's group and decided to strike up conversation with those folks, thinking that it'd be a good place to start.

The first few conversations are long - a flurry of questions about your background, your journey out to Jackson, and how you've been adjusting to the move. You learn some basics about some of them, but there's a distraction lingering in the back of your mind.

Joel.

A few people in the group break away to leave for the dance floor, the jovial music beckoning them ever closer. You don't follow immediately, which leaves you with a few stragglers, and him.

For the first time in days, you hear his voice again, "What'd you get?"

The question snaps you to attention, looking down into your glass. You glance back up at him and motion with the cup with a swish, "Some mead, I think. Pretty good."

He nods, "Pete makes some damn good mead, 'specially if it's for a party. Pulls out the good stuff."

Part of you wonders if his lighthearted talking is to make up for the blunder on last week's patrol, to ease the embarrassment you still held from it.

"What's in your cup?" You retort.

"Usually it's bourbon, but tonight, it's beer," he replies with a gaze into his own cup. He copies your motion and swirls the cup a few times. A bit of the foamy liquid sloshes out and onto the dirt in front of your, nicer, combat boots. Some of the beer spatters onto your feet and into the dirt.

"Damn, maybe they should cut me off," Joel jokes, reaching into his back pocket and revealing a handkerchief, holding it out to you. "Sorry 'bout that."

You take the cloth, "Making a mess of the place already, and it's not even eight o'clock yet, impressive."

The joke seems to land with Joel; you can tell by the way the corners of his eyes tighten.

Joel

What you say makes him chuckle. It's rare to find someone with a sense of humor these days. That kind of fresh attitude can bring a lot of life in a world like this, especially around here, especially after the loss these people have felt.

New folks were few and far between, given how desolate Jackson had become since the world fell to shit, but there was a wind of change when you arrived last week. Joel could tell from the second he saw you on patrol, even trotting ahead of the group at one point. The light in your eyes when you awed at the mountains tugged at his heartstrings. A type of longing for that kind of simple joy. To be young, without most of his hardships, seeing new parts of the world, even though it had shrunk.

On the patrol, you had gotten too far ahead, in line with Joel in the lead, and you knew it wasn't your place, but you hadn't shied away from him. In fact, you had embraced it, and listened keenly when Joel advised you keep your distance. Normally it'd feel like taming an unruly child, but you had a certain curiosity in your eyes, you were eager to learn.

Joel knows how harsh he can be, let alone to new faces. The worry of how that attitude rubs off on people subsided decades ago - one could say that Joel has truly embraced that 'grouchy old man' stereotype. That attitude has saved his ass more times than he could count, and has kept him safe after all these years. But, there's an unavoidable weight when it comes to hardening yourself up as much as Joel has. It's a truth that he's been evading for years. You make yourself untouchable, but you forget how much you need someone else.

Even so, it's easier that way. You keep losses to a minimum as long as you're not attached. Living that way had gotten him this far.

But now you stand in front of him, with beer-splattered boots and a kind smile despite your new shoes being soiled. You take his handkerchief and bend down to clean your shoes, and hand the cloth back to Joel. His fingers brush against yours when he takes it back - yours are delicately soft against his calloused ones, and it takes him by surprise.

In that split second, Joel's eyes search your face for any change, to see if you freeze like he does, to see if your breath hitches like his did, for any sign that this isn't just some fluke.

It could be a trick of the light, but Joel swears there's a new redness in your cheeks. When you look at him next, it's with bright, innocent eyes, a type of innocence Joel would surely ruin.

"Thank you, Joel," you say softly. His name on your lips is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, it's almost sickening.

Joel clears his throat and gives you a nod, "It's the least I can do."

The sun is dipping behind the mountains, streaking the sky with glorious pink hues against the emerging stars of dusk. A fiddle lilts happily as the song picks up pace, the tune itself serving as an invitation to get yourself moving. In the distance, Cara flashes you a wide smile, and waves a beckoning hand over to her gaggle of folks. You can barely make out her words as she mouths them.

"Let's dance!"

Joel notices your distraction, looking back at Cara trying to whisk you onto the dance floor. There's a good number of people breaking into a flurry of moves, all whooping and laughing as they pass one another. Joel looks back to you, the softness that was there before is seeming to dissipate. His face is hardened again, resigned.

"Guess I'm being stolen away," you say.

"Be careful," Joel replies, "Carried Away Cara doesn't let up. You'll be dancing for hours."

You comment, "Didn't know I signed up for that kind of night."

You've reached the group by now, and Cara is already handing you another glass of mead, and a huge smile to go along with it.

----

You're onto drink number four, you think, and the sky has shifted from a pale pink to a deep indigo, littered with bright stars and a beautiful crescent moon. It seems like the music has blurred together without beginning or end, and your boozy haze doesn't reveal any tiredness, so you keep dancing. Joel was right, Cara's had you dancing for what feels like hours at this point. But damn, did she know how to party.

The song the group's playing begins to slow down, and part of the crowd disperses away. Chattering can be overheard amidst the quieting music. You place a mostly-empty glass onto a nearby picnic table and look around the venue. Folks pass you by with a pep in their step, their faces flushed red from alcohol and relentless dancing.

A breath of fresh air wafts through the venue, rustling through your hair that had tacked with sweat to the nape of your neck. You smile from the sensation, relishing in the cool air across your hot skin. Shit, what time is it?

Your watch beams 10:13 PM back up at you.

Damn, where did all that time go?

The night has given you a rush of adrenaline you haven't found in what feels like months. Something about this dance is erupting a sense of joy you were sure you'd never feel again. Laughter, dancing, good people. Such simple things really do lift the spirits.

You can feel a pointed stare at you off to the side, but do you dare look? Of course you do - it's not like the mead is letting you act composed. Being as subtle as you can muster in your state, you glance to the side, where that looming sense had come from. Far off, leaning against a tall wooden fence, is Joel.

While he had practically ignored you when you'd first seen him tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you in this moment. Your heart skips a beat when he holds the stare, his deep brown eyes never leave yours, even as other partygoers pass between you. It's as if the world had paused, but perhaps just for you, frozen under Joel's gaze, the sole subject of his attention.

He stands alone on the side. No one to interrupt you if you go over...

Before you decide, you wave and smile. A silly drunken grin you'd normally hide. Right now, with his focus only on you, is the most alive you've felt in months. The high of it creeps up from behind, whispering encouragement in the form of a dare. Go up to him.

Your legs make the journey before you register what's happening; your body suddenly has a mind of its own, no way to back down now.

The narrowing distance from Joel pushes your heart to your throat. While your legs carry you smoothly, your senses are turned upside down. The anxiety you have about Joel is nothing but a distant memory. Tonight, you'd overcome your nervousness.

"Not much of a dancer, hm?" You call to him over the music.

A small smile spreads across his lips, "With these knees, I'm lucky to do a damn foxtrot. Someone out there was having the time of their life, though."

He truly has a gift. The moment he speaks, everything else seems to disappear. God, you'd ask him question after question just to hear that voice - deep and gravelly, but the accent is thick and sweet like molasses. A slip of your imagination has you wandering into uncharted territory. Imagine a "baby" or "honey" or "sweetheart" in that voice... Your mind vacates long enough for Joel to arch an eyebrow at you, and you're immediately brought back down to earth.

"I don't know how I went dancing for that long," you exhale.

Joel shakes his head with a chuckle, "You'll get some damn good sleep, that's for sure."

It'd be better if you were sleeping with me.

The unfiltered thought jolts through you, snapping you back to attention. Maybe the mead was making you a little too confident.

Behind you both, the music group's slow beat has pulled folks into a smooth rhythm. The dance floor littered with small groups and couples as the song continued. This new intimate energy could not have been timed any worse. You took a big breath and let it out slowly.

"It's getting late, I should probably head home."

Joel pauses, looking toward the band, then down into a cup of amber-brown liquid. Maybe he resorted back to his usual bourbon.

You follow suit and watch the band play on. A tug in your chest begs you not to go, not yet.

"Think you got time for one last go?" His question snaps your head to him. There's a new spark in his eyes, a softer glint amidst the chocolate brown.

Your answer is immediate, breathless, "Of course."

Anything. Anything for him.

As long as it reveals a glimpse of the man underneath the tough shell. It's still in him.

Joel extends his hand, palm up, to take yours. You lay yours on top plainly, holding a breath at the sensation of your skin against his. It's not like before with the handkerchief. This time, it's intentional, he wants to touch you.

The way his fingers curl to hold your hand settled that debate. His touch is careful. It didn't take a genius to know how rough he could be, with those toned muscles shifting under his plaid shirt; in contrast, he held you with such delicacy, as if you'd break if he gripped too hard.

"You know how to dance at all?" Joel asks.

You bark a laugh, "With this many drinks in me? Highly doubt it."

Joel's laugh is louder this time around. You can actually make it out, and you can feel that it's genuine. "I warned you about Cara. Now I get a drunk dance partner."

"Hey, you asked me to dance. You don't get to give me shit for havin' a good time," your words slur together, proving Joel's point.

Amidst the crowd, Joel manages to find you two a nice spot with plenty of room. The surrounding couples look how you feel - entranced with their partners, focused and attentive, like the other person is the only one left in the world.

"How 'bout this? You lead me."

You freeze, "But, I-I don't know what to d-"

"Do what you want. I'll follow."

"And if I make a fool of myself?" You question.

His other hand migrates to your waist, holding you gently at your side, "The you better really sell it."

Your laugh is giddy. He lets you have room for mistakes. There's room to be human around him.

A deep exhale later, you place your hands on Joel's shoulders and begin to sway, a slow and steady pace with the beat of the song. Seems the mead has done its work of clouding your judgement - you're locked in the swaying motion.

"Is this okay?" You ask softly, finding Joel's eyes. There's a warmth in them you hadn't seen before.

He nods gently, "You lead the way, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

Who'd have known that a single word could melt you completely. Your mind instantly hooks on it, cycles it in your mind as if to brand it into your memory.

Sweetheart.

Your smile is instant, but feels like one of those sloppy, stupid drunk grins that reveal how not-yourself you are at the words.

And so, you sway. As promised, Joel follows right along.

He shifts closer, readjusting the hold on your waist, spanning his fingers along the small of your back. A polite caress, not meandering and wandering around like most drunk men you'd encountered. Joel can keep his hands to himself. Joel has manners. Joel has self-control.

There's a lead to follow with his movements, you discover. It does feel more natural to wrap your arms around his neck like this...

In a swift moment you've melted into him, and with it, your nerves.

You also find that it's far more comfortable to rest your head on his chest. A beat later, your senses return, and you raise yourself back into standing position, realizing the crossed boundary.

"Gettin' tired already?" Joel asks bemusedly.

Maybe he didn't catch it. Thank goodness.

"You're basically rocking me to sleep here," you quip back.

Joel reminds you, "You're the one leading us."

You roll your eyes as you shake your head, bringing a laugh from him again. The sound of it lights you up from inside, flipping your stomach. You'd already learned that that sound was rare.

"Some dance partner I am," you say sarcastically. Joel's smile broadens, and the hand on your back shifts. His thumb idly sweeps across your spine.

Somehow, your arms are back around his neck, and your head is against his chest, all without protest. Joel's thumb still caresses your back as a sign. The song in the background changes to something simpler, with fewer instruments, giving highlight to a slow solo from the fiddle player.

"You're right, I think I'm gonna sleep like a log tonight," you murmur.

Joel's chuckle vibrates against your cheek. The huff of his laugh gives you a whiff of bourbon, sickly sweet and smoky, blending in with his deeper woodsy scent.

"You gotta be more careful next time," his voice slows. "We'll get some water in ya, help fight that hangover tomorrow."

You nod against him, smiling broadly, knowing that you're in good hands. Your words come out sheepishly, "I'm sorry I got so drunk. I... didn't think you'd see me like this."

A gentle squeeze on your side.

Joel's breath skirts across your neck when he mutters, "You think I'm gonna blame you for havin' a good time?"

His lips graze the shell of your ear as he speaks, and his words have a secrecy to them, an intimacy you hadn't seen from him before. You pay attention to the feel of his lips on your skin - they're soft and gentle, but know where to drag along in all the right places.

It's enough to leave your knees wobbling in your drunken stupor, high purely off of his touch, head spinning as you search for a new sensation.

"It has been pretty fun," you reply between trembling breaths.

There's a subtle brush of lips against your neck when he speaks, "I'd say I'm havin' a pretty good time."

Your knees practically buckle beneath you.

The rush of it all has you pulled back from him now, staring at him with surprised eyes. It's not that you didn't enjoy or accept that move, just that quickly, in front of so many people...

Joel's look shifts to something of embarrassment, "Maybe I've had a lil' too much."

You let out a nervous laugh, "I think I'm right there with you, I... I'm sorry."

He doesn't ask what the apology is for. He knows exactly which line was crossed. The hardened look returning to his eyes tells you that this moment of bliss is coming to an end.

"You don't got anything to be sorry for," the thick Texas accent is palpable in his reassurance. "I'm bein' a fool."

A fool. For doing this.

Hopefully he can't see the way that word breaks you. You force a bigger smile, a dismissive one that says 'we can just forget this ever happened', with a wave of a hand.

You offer, "Like you said, just having a good time."

His smile is wry. There's something unreadable in his expression.

Nonetheless, his grip of your waist loosens, releasing you as the fiddle in the background song comes to a silent end. Something akin to tension hangs in the air between you, pulled taught like a string to be severed.

"Well, I won't keep ya any longer. I... appreciate the dance. I know you're probably itchin' to get back in bed, so..." Joel says, trailing off, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You nod, collecting yourself, "Y-Yeah, probably good to get some sleep soon. You, too."

Joel smiles again, but his heart isn't in it like before.

He gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, eyes averted, "Get home safe, alright?"

Before you can wish him the same, he's lost amidst the crowd.

Hello, my sweethearts! So glad to be developing this story more, and I hope you've been enjoying so far! If you'd like, vote in the poll below for how'd you like to see this story develop (if you catch my drift)

As always, thank you so much for your support. And if you're new, it's nice to meet you! Love you all!

-Bunny

{all banners/dividers are from cafekistune on Tumblr}

[thorfemmes]

Now in Technicolor

part ii: "I found I could say things with color that I couldn't say any other way"

a/n: Surprise, I'm alive! This update has been a long time coming. I posted part one back in January, and then hit writer's block, and then my semester started, and then time just slipped away. but I'm on summer break so hopefully I should be able to write more! My ask box is always open for requests, headcannons, or just some fun chats about our favorite characters. I hope you enjoy!

read part i here

as always, reblogs, likes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Rated 18+: fem!reader x steddie, possible smut in the future, slight suggestive language (literally barely there), anxiety, brief mentions of nail biting and skin picking as nervous habits

Word Count: 2,667 words

When Steve woke up that Sunday morning he hadn't expected much. He had been called in to cover a shift last minute so he was dragging his feet all morning, upset that he had to miss out on breakfast with Robin and her new friend.

He quietly shrugged on the starchy green vest and crawled over his side of the bed to kiss Eddie goodbye.

Eddie groaned. "D'ya have to go? You weren't supposed to be scheduled," Eddie mumbled into his pillow, not opening his eyes.

Steve smiled softly. "I have to, baby. I called out last week so this shift will ensure a full paycheck for me".

"It's not my fault you called out".

"Oh definitely not. It's never your fault when you want to spend the day in bed".

Eddie opened one eye and smirked at Steve. "You weren't complaining when I fu-".

"Okay Eddie! I've gotta go, handsome. I'll see you this afternoon, yeah?"

"Of course. Bring home the bacon, babe!"

When Steve got off of work, he hadn't expected much. He stopped by Eddie's favorite Chinese restaurant and picked up food for an early dinner. Some Jade beef with extra steamed rice and a couple new movies sounded like a perfect night in for them.

When he got home, the front porch light wasn't on but Eddie's van was parked in the driveway.

"Hey Eds? I'm home," He shrugged off the vest and threw his keys in the dish on the front table. He walked into the kitchen and set the food on the counter. "Eddie?"

He heard a grunt come from the living room. He found Eddie sitting on the couch, his face in his hands and his leg bouncing up and down. Steve kneeled down in front of him and slowly rested his hands on Eddie's leg.

"What's wrong, Eddie?"

Eddie looked at Steve, eyes wide with stress. "I went to breakfast with Robin and Nancy this morning," Steve nodded. "And I met their new friend, Y/N. When we met, color flooded the rest of my vision".

Steve took a deep breath. "Okay..."

"I'm just… not sure what to do. I gave her my phone number so we could talk, but I wanted to talk to you. What does this mean for us?"

Steve glanced over Eddie's face. His eyes were glassy and his bottom lip was chewed raw. "Baby we've talked about this, it was bound to happen to one of us. Nothing is going to change unless all of us want it to. I still love you, do you still love me?"

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. "Of course! It's just that, what if she's not your missing soulmate? Or what if she doesn't want me in her life since we're already together?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Did she say anything about us when you brought it up?"

Eddie shook his head. "No, not really. But she was cool with Robin and Nancy so I'm assuming she's cool with us. It's just different, obviously".

"Obviously," Steve smiled softly. "Let's just give her some time to settle. We can't worry about something that hasn't happened yet. You just met her today, I haven't even met her yet. Let's just relax and eat the Chinese food that I brought home before it gets cold. Whatever happens is meant to happen, it's out of our control now".

Eddie took a deep breath to steady himself. "Okay Stevie, it's your turn to pick the movie tonight". Steve reached up and gave him a quick kiss before heading to the kitchen.

Across town, Y/N was eerily quiet. She had been since breakfast. Rather than heading home, she headed for the nearest Goodwill and went straight to the book section. Scanning the shelves, she came across a book meant for newly found soulmates. One that could help her identify the colors around her. She quickly picked up the book, along with one on color theory (though truth be told she had no idea what that meant) and went to the register, thankful that it was a bored teenager ringing her up rather than a chatty old lady that would no doubt question her purchases.

She drove home, probably faster than she should have. She quickly ran into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She scanned her living room, now blotched with color. Various unnamed shades poked through her vision, overwhelming her. She wasn't sure if it was the colors that were overstimulating her, or the newfound knowledge that she had more than one soulmate wandering the earth. For most people, finally finding a soulmate was easy. You meet, you get to know each other, you fall in love, the end. What was she supposed to do with a soulmate that was already in love with someone else, with his soulmate. A soulmate that wasn't her. All of this made her head pound. She threw the book on the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She rummaged through her cabinets until she found some ibuprofen. A nap and a handful of Advil will do her some good.

Eddie hadn't heard from Y/N in almost two weeks. He had gone back and forth debating whether he should ask Robin for her phone number, but ultimately decided not to. It was up to her to reach out to him, and in her own time. Though truth be told life carried on as normal. Steve continued to complain about the middle schoolers trying to sneak rated R movies out of the store, Eddie continued to bar back at a local restaurant, and the two boys continued to build their lives together. The only thing that has changed is Eddie's ability to fully see color. He could tell Steve what matched and what didn't. He encouraged him to wear more yellows and browns that looked great with his slight tan and rosy cheeks. He also stopped Steve from wearing that god awful orange polo shirt with the green vest because c'mon Stevie, you have to know what an eyesore that is, even with your limited colored vision.

When she finally did call, Eddie wasn't home. Steve was getting out of the shower that evening, greeted by the shrill rings of their telephone. Sitting down on the bed still in his towel, he answered with a simple hello?

"Hi, is Eddie there?" A soft voice came through the phone.

"No he's not, may I ask who's calling?"

"Oh! Um, it's Y/N".

Steve stood up a little straighter. "Hey Y/N, it's Steve". The other end went silent. "Hello?"

She cleared her throat. "Hey, yeah. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you to pick up, but now that I'm thinking about it, it makes perfect sense. Of course you guys live together, you're soulmates, why wouldn't you? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. Please tell Eddie I won't bug him again, I-"

"Hey, hey slow down. You're perfectly fine, there's no reason to worry. Eddie's just at work, but I can tell him you called?"

She nodded, "Yeah, that would be great. Thank you".

"Of course. And hey, Y/N? I meant what I said, there's nothing to worry about. We're both excited to get to know you -if that's what you want".

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Let me give you my number".

After the phone call with her, Steve called Eddie at work.

"Hey baby, is something wrong?" Eddie was a bit worried. The last and only time Steve had called him at work was to let him know that he wouldn't be home for dinner because he was in the ER with Lucas who had a broken nose after a basketball incident.

"Yeah everything's okay. I just wanted to let you know that Y/N called. I'm not sure when you'll be home, so I wanted to let you know before I head to bed".

Eddie let out a slow breath. "Okay, thank you for letting me know. Sleep well, Stevie".

It was well past midnight when Eddie got home. He quietly meandered around the house, peeking through the pantry and fridge for a late night snack. He grabbed the quart of juice from the fridge and drank straight from the carton, something Steve would've chided him for. Nothing they had in the house sounded all that appealing to him, but his attention was quickly drawn away from eating by an empty envelope with Steve's chicken scratch on it.

Y/N's phone number, it read. Give her a call when you're ready, she's just as nervous as you. Xoxo.

Eddie let out a small laugh at the sign off. The microwave read 1:37 am, surely it was too late to call her? Something urged him to though, a small voice in the back of his head inviting him to the telephone in their living room. He sat down on the arm of the couch and pressed her number into the dial pad. Eddie immediately regretted the decision until she picked up after two rings.

"Hello?" She sounded almost hesitant, wondering who on earth was calling at this hour.

"H-hey," He cleared his throat. "Hey, it's Eddie".

"Hey Eddie," She whispered.

"How are you doing?" He cringed inwardly. Was he supposed to make small talk or cut to the chase?

She huffed out a small laugh, "I'm doing well, you?"

"I'm doing well," He paused. "This is awkward, right? It's not just me?"

"It's a little awkward, yeah. Um, what are you doing up so late?"

"I just got off work, I hope I didn't wake you up or anything".

She shook her head in response. "No, don't even worry about it. I couldn't sleep anyways. What do you do for work?"

"I bar back at Paolo's down on 10th street".

"Oh! I've been meaning to try that place. Is the food any good? I know there's a town-wide debate on whether Enzo's or Paolo's is better".

Eddie smiled again. "The food’s really good, but I may be biased. Enzo's was a little too stuffy for me. They wanted me to cut my hair and cover up my tattoos even though I work in the back of the house".

"Yeah, that sucks. I'm glad you found a place that works for you".

A minute passed by before either person talked.

"So I-".

"I think-"

They fumbled over each other's words.

"You first," Eddie said.

"I've been thinking, and I'd like to get to know you a little better. And Steve if he's comfortable with it. I'd like to have my soulmate -or one of them, I guess -be a part of my life".

Eddie sat up a little straighter on the air chair. "I'd like that, I'd like that a lot. Steve and I are both off on Thursday if you'd like to meet then? Just something easy like over coffee".

"Something easy, I'd like that. I get out of class around 2:00 pm, so maybe we could meet at 3:00 pm? I go to school outside of Hawkins so it'll give me time to drive over to you guys".

"Sounds perfect, sweetheart".

Eddie was going to have a heart attack. His anxiety was bouncing off the walls leading up to his meeting with Y/N. What does one wear to introduce one of your soulmates to your other soulmate? What if your soulmates hate each other? What if Steve isn't her missing soulmate? The mental gymnastics of even processing that he has to introduce two separate soulmates to each other was exhausting. Before it was all hypothetical; He didn't know if she wanted to be in his life, in fact he had assumed not since he hadn't heard from her. But now? Now Eddie had to face reality and jump over this hurdle.

Steve, on the other hand, was calm and collected. Almost too calm for Eddie's liking. He just went about his day normally. Sat and drank his coffee and watched the morning news. He got dressed without a second thought. He was eerily calm. Even on the drive to the coffee shop, Steve calmly drove with a supportive hand on Eddie's thigh. Meanwhile, Eddie was biting his nails down to the quick.

Across town, Y/N had already arrived. She bolted out of class and ended up getting there 20 minutes early. She saved a table near the back of the cafe. She debated whether she should order or wait for the boys, but ultimately decided to wait. To be completely honest, Y/N had no idea how she was going to stomach a drink during this meeting. She didn't know if she was more anxious about seeing Eddie again or meeting Steve. Selfishly, she hoped Steve was her other soulmate. It would make everyone's life easier. And if he wasn’t her other soulmate? Well, that’s a whole separate shitstorm to navigate. Let’s not get caught up on that right now. You have enough stress bottled up as is. Any more might shatter the glass.

She was jolted from her racing thoughts by the bell on the cafe’s door ringing out. She looked up and saw Eddie holding open the door for another man. A slightly shorter, more muscular man that was just as handsome as Eddie.

She quickly waved them over and stood up to greet them. “Hey Eddie, it’s nice to see you again”.

Eddie offered a soft smile. “Yeah, same. This is Steve. Steve, this is Y/N”.

She offered a small wave, too nervous to shake his hand and confirm their soulmate status so early in their meeting. Steve understood, keeping his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N”.

“Cool,” Eddie cleared his throat. “So, I’m going to go order for us. Y/N, do you want anything?”

“Oh, it’s okay! I can go with and order”.

“Please, I insist”.

She looked into his soft eyes, getting nothing but kindness back from him. Chancing a glance at Steve, she received the same look of patience and kindness from the man. She nodded and told him her order.

With Eddie standing in a line across the room, there was no longer a buffer between Steve and Y/N. Steve quietly motioned back to the table. They sat down, an intimidating silence fell over them. She picked at the skin around her thumbnail while Steve’s leg bounced -both of them filled with nerves. It was Steve who finally broke the silence.

“So, uh,” He started. She quickly looked up at him, giving her full attention. “Robin and Eddie tell me that you’re in school? Well, mostly Robin, but yeah”.

She nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah I am. I’m almost done, thankfully”.

“Cool, cool”. Another silence fell over them.

“H-how,” She cleared her throat, when did it get so dry? “How did you and Eddie meet?”

“Technically, through mutual friends. We had crossed paths in high school, but we really didn’t talk to each other until after I graduated. I was kind of a dick in high school, so we wouldn’t have gotten along much anyway”.

“The universe has a weird way of doing that. Throwing people into our lives when we least expect it”.

Steve smiled. “Yeah, yeah it does”.

The rest of their coffee date went rather smoothly. Y/N learned a lot about Steve and Eddie, and vice versa. She learned about Eddie's uncle, Wayne, who raised him as his own from a young age; and, that he had an affinity for thrash metal -especially Metallica and Anthrax -fantasy books, and DnD. She learned about Steve's upbringing and that while his parents were in his life, they were never truly involved or all that interested in actually being a parent. Steve's music taste varied, loving anything from the Beastie Boys to Simple Minds to Bruce Springsteen; and, while he would never openly admit it to anyone else, he secretly loved Tiffany's music. They learned about your family and your relationship with them. They thought it was interesting that you chose Hawkins of all places to settle down for college. Your music taste was also eclectic, but Eddie continually teased you about liking Madonna (Steve had to hold his tongue from calling Eddie out on loving "Vogue" and her Like a Prayer album). When it was finally time for them to part, Eddie offered a small hug, to which Y/N softly accepted. When they separated, she turned and offered a shaky hand out to Steve. He took a deep breath and shook her hand.

Time seemed to stand still again. Color flooded the rest of their vision. What was once murky grays and blobs of pigment quickly became a full painting with every shade imaginable.

Eddie looked at the two of you, hope sparkling in his eyes. “Well?”

Y/N and Steve shared a grin.

“Well, life just got a whole lot easier for the three of us”.

thank you so much for reading! more to come soon! <333

taglist: @alexxavicry @marvelous-musicals @kbakery @sillypurplemurple @munsonology @sidthedollface2 @sunnygrey99 @sigh-mon-says @pastelbabygirl19 @sleepy-bunny @bethanysnow @sllooney @cottagecori @saramelaniemoon @bestofbucky @luvrsbian @shotgunhallelujah @tiannamortis @hazydespair (please lmk if I missed you!)

[sapphic-moon-child]

Oh, baby... Chapter 5

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader Fluff level 10000000%

Warnings: smut, mentions of TTC and pregnancy struggles, mentions of child abuse and trauma, mentions of eating disorders, food struggles,

Chapter 5: A bed of thorns

To you, the week passed in a hurry, and you had started making tentative plans for furniture to go in the guestroom/soon to hopefully be your 13 year old daughters. You were letting yourself hope just a bit. You had now met Amelia while dropping off some lunch to your wife, and your heart lurched. She was petite and had wavy blond hair a few shades darker than your wife's. Her eyes were a soft gray blue, and her skin was almost a rosy white like porcelain.

To Larissa, time couldn't move slower. Amelia had begun seeing her every day now for some time to decompress and honestly feel loved. Larissa had taken the day off from work Friday and let the other teachers know you would be joining her.

"Amelia, my love, come sit for a moment." Larissa cooed at her, joining her on her sofa. "Am I in trouble?" She asked, hesitation filling her voice. "No, my sweet, you aren't. I have relieved you from classes today so you can spend it with me and Y/N. You'll come home with me today, if that's alright." Her eyes widened, and she scooted a bit."Really?!" "Yes, my lovely, so why don't you pack an overnight bag and meet me back in 15 hmm?" Amelia left into Larissa's arms and darted out the door, leaving Larissa laughing on the sofa.

When the girl arrived back, she gratefully took Larissa's hand and walked with her to the car. They pulled into the driveway just as you were taking a cobbler out of the oven for tonight. "My love? We're back!" Larissa called out to you, taking Amelia's coat and her own to put them on the hooks. "Amelia shoes, sweetheart." The girl nodded and put her shoes by the door next to the white heels. "Welcome home, my dear, and hello to you, Amelia." You walked out from the kitchen and greeted your wife and the young girl. "Hello, Mrs Weems!" She stepped up and gave you a tight hug. You started a bit but hugged her back. "Are you two hungry? I just made cinnamon rolls?" Amelia's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "I…I've never had one…" she tentatively told you, shrinking in on herself. You looked up at your wife and had a short but silent conversation. ("She has been so sheltered" - "I know")

"We'll dear, there is a first for everything!" You guided her to the tables and served her a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll. You also grabbed one for your wife and yourself. You noticed that she just looked at the plate and cup but didn't touch either. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Larissa asked, touching Amelia's arm softly. She just looked up with glassy eyes. "You didn't tell me I could eat it." Larissa and you shared a stoic look of horror. "My sweet, you don't need permission in this house to eat. If you see it and would like it, eat it. Food is never something to worry about here. You are safe." Amelia nodded and wordlessly picked up her fork and tasted a small bite of the confection. Here eyes lit up, and she followed it with another and a gulp of her hot chocolate. Larissa smiled at you and went about eating her own food.

"Amelia, my sweet. There is something we want to talk to you about. I promise you aren't in any trouble." Amelia's eyes shot up, and she lost control of her emotions. " I knew it! You are getting rid of me! It was all an act!" She started to run away from the table, but Larissa was quick and slid her chair back in time to catch the sobbing girl and pull her into a hug, resisting the girl fighting to get free. "Amelia, no! You don't understand. We want to help you!" Larissa held the girl in her lap and rocked her until the sobs turned into small whimpers. Larissa looked over to you, silently asking you to explain. You nodded to the living room and watched your wife scoop the girl up and carry her to the couch.

You came back in with 3 fresh poured hot chocolates and sat on the opposite of Larissa. Amelia was in the middle leaning on Larissa's chest, and you gently pulled your feet up and Amelia's into your lap. You reached behind you and covered her with a soft plush blanket that she immediately smiled at and snuggled into.

"Amelia, my friend Mary is coming over tonight. She is a social worker who works with kiddos like you. She is very kind and when I talked with her she had no reason that you couldn’t come stay with us. But she's going to ask a lot of questions, and we will be with you the entire time. I know it sounds scary, but I promise that as long as you tell the truth, it will all be ok." You gently rubbed circles on her calf and tried to keep your voice as calm as possible.

"Okay… but you promise you won't let her take me away? And you'll stay with me?!" Amelia was almost shaking with fear. "We promise sweet girl, we won't leave you." Larissa said with a soft kiss to her forehead.

After a bit, you turned on a movie called Ponyo, and the girl fell asleep with her head in Larissa's lap, and her legs curled up against you. Larissa scratched her head and soothingly ran her fingers through her hair. A few hours went by, and you got up to start fixing dinner. Just a simple pot roast, you had been slow cooking, potatoes and carrots, and baked mac n cheese. Hopefully, Amelia liked what you made. You normally weren't nervous about you cooking, but this was a touchy subject as you are now finding out.

A soft knock on the door alerted you, and you rushed to get it, holding a hand up to Larissa to not wake the sleeping girl on her lap. She gave you a silent smile of thanks, and you opened the door. "Mary! It's so good to see you. Please come in, shoes by the door if you don't mind. With my autoimmune, we try not to bring all of the outside in." You chuckled and gave her a hug. "Amelia is asleep in the living room holding Larissa hostage." You laughed and offered her a cup of tea.

Larissa managed to get up without disturbing the young girl and join you two at the table. "So tell me a bit about her," Mary asked gently, looking at Larissa, who had a death grip on your hand. "She doesn't trust anyone. She has eating issues. Not anorexia or anything like that, but she nearly broke into a million pieces this morning when we "hadn't told her she could eat yet."" it was awful. I now know why she often eats in her room and not in the cafeteria at the school." Larissa wiped away a single tear and held back many more. "Well, while she's sleeping, I wanted to tell you, her grandfather is not a good person. In fact, when I went to speak with him, he signed over custody to us. He said he didn't want a mongrel outcast anyway." Mary sighed, and both you and Larissa had trails of tears running down your face. "My goodness, what does that mean for her now?" Larissa quietly exclaimed. "Well, we have two options, but she will have to express her want in the matter. One she goes into state care. Two custody is signed over to you two. You both have the qualifications to take on an outcast child. The question is, do you want to?" Mary sighed. She knew this was a huge decision for them to make.

You looked at Larissa, and she looked back to you, but before you could say anything, Amelia came running in, and Larissa immediately scooted her chair back and let the girl climb in her lap "My sweet girl, what's wrong!" She softly spoke and cradled her. "You were gone! I thought you left me! I had a dream that you left me too!" Amelia sobbed into her chest, and you reached over to rub her back as Larissa rocked her gently, both of you trying to calm her down. Mary just sat back and smiled, watching the two of you love and sooth the girl. Once she had calmed and you dried her tears, she stayed sitting on Larissa's lap absentmindedly playing with a piece of her long hair. "Amelia, this is our friend Mary, she has a few questions to ask you. It's okay, love. we are right here and can take a break if you need it." Amelia nodded but still kept a hold of Larissa's hair, trying to soothe herself.

"Hi Amelia, can I ask you some questions?" Amelia nodded yes but didn't say anything. "I want to talk about your grandfather Arnold." Amelia immediately stiffened and pushed back into Larissa's chest. "Has he ever been mean or hurt you?" Mary watched Amelia's non-verbal cues and felt like she already knew the answer. Amelia nodded again, and Mary asked if she could elaborate. "He puts me in the chain room." You held your breath hearing her words. "What is the chain room?" Mary softly asked. "Umm… it's where bad girls like me go, that's what Grandad says. He says I don't get nice things because I'm different. He puts chains on my ankles and turns out the lights. And umm… if I'm quiet, I get a snack at night." Larissa had silent tears rolling down her cheeks, and your eyes were burning. "Amelia, my love, would you like some juice?" You asked, thankful she nodded so you could compose yourself for a moment. "Amelia, what does your snack include if you're quiet?" Mary asked, feeling her gut lurch at the sentence. "He says I can have a slice of bread. Sometimes it's moldy, but if I don't eat it, I can't have anything else because I'm selfish." Amelia tucked her head into the crook of Larissa's neck and twirled her hair again, trying to find comfort from the person who she thought was nice and warm and maybe even loved her.

You returned with the juice, hoping your cheeks weren't too red from the silent cry you had in the kitchen. As soon as you set down, Larissa spoke softly, saying she needed to use the restroom. To your surprise, Amelia nodded and came over to your lap and gave you a wordless ask if she could sit with you. You nodded and pulled her onto your lap. Larissa returned, and Amelia stayed on your lap, waiting for Mary wondering if she had any more questions. "Amelia, where is the chain room?" "In the cellar…" she spoke with barely a whisper. "Amelia, I don't think going back to your grandad is the best option. He's in a bit of trouble right now, but don't worry, you are safe. Would you like to stay with foster parents who have other kids your age, or would you prefer Larissa and Y/N to become your legal guardians?" Mary asked, and you and your wife held your breath, waiting for her answer. Amelia looked up at Larissa and asked, "Can I stay with you, Rissa? I…I promise I'll be good and i can sleep on the floor it's no problem!" She almost sounded like she was begging. You let out a sigh of relief, and Larissa smiled. "Yes, my peach, you can. You can stay forever, my darling. And you won't sleep on the floor, you will have your own room honey." Amelia jumped up and hugged Larissa as tight as she would, then turned to you and hugged you too. "Miss Mary? Umm… can I still stay here tonight, or do I have to go back to grandads for break?" She asked timidly, squeezing your hand a bit. "No, sweetheart, you don't have to ever see him again if you don't want to. Why don't you take your juice to the living room and watch some TV while I talk with Y/N and Larissa. Okay hun?" Amelia nodded and did as she was asked.

"I have enough here and her taped confession to grant you immediate emergency guardianship, and we can file for permanent motion as soon as an arrest is made." Mary spoke, pulling out a document to sign and sliding it over to you both. After you and your wife signed it, she used her notary stamp and signed herself. Pulling off the copy sheet to give to you both. "You are now her guardians, or well, her parents. I would say congratulations in any other situation, but it doesn't seem appropriate." You and Larissa both hugged and wiped away your tears.

The rest of the night went on, and the four of you enjoyed dinner together. You chuckled as Amelia ate, smiling at every bite like it was the best thing she had ever had. When Mary left you 3, you started settling for bed. "Amelia, would you like to take a shower before bed?" She nodded at Larissa's question, and you both led her up to the spare bathroom and made sure she had all she needed. After she was done, she got dressed and headed to the room you had shown her. "Would you like me to brush and braid your hair peach?" Larissa asked, and she nodded and hopped up on the bed, letting Larissa softly take care of her hair. By the time she was done, Amelia was yawning and looked like she was going to fall asleep sitting up. "Time for bed, little lady." You said and pulled back the covers for her to climb into. You pulled out a fluffy pink teddy bear you had purchased yesterday for her, and she happily latched onto it and snuggled down. It only took a few minutes for her to fall asleep before you and Larissa turned out the lights and closed the door a bit, leaving the hall light on for her.

After getting ready for bed, you both climbed in, and you laid your head on Larissa's chest. "We have a daughter." You said with slight disbelief in your voice. "I know… she's really ours. I want her to stay here, not the academy. She will get more support that way." Larissa softly spoke, and you nodded. After a few minutes, you both fell asleep, finally letting the day take over you both.

You woke up around 3am to your door creaking open and soft cries coming from Amelia. Shaking Larissa awake, you gently waved your hand for her to come up to you. "What's wrong, my love? Did you have a bad dream?" Amelia nodded, and Larissa pulled her up into the bed with the bear you had given her between you two, rocking her gently. "Shh, it's okay, peach, you're safe, nothing bad can get you here." Larissa cooed and stroked the sweat covered hair from her forehead. Amelia was already falling back asleep in her arms, and your wife gently laid her down with you two. In a sleepy haze, Amelia mumbled, letting sleep overtake her. "Love you, Mama." Larissa's eyes went wife as you just smiled at her and laid your hand on Amelia's back following suit.

[whatisamildopinion]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @actual-sleeping-beauty! Ask and ye shall receive. Have some Aasimar AU. This is from chapter 6, so it won't be up for a couple weeks, but this part was so good when I wrote it and still lives rent-free in my head. Have some Fig on tour, everyone, because no one can tell me that experience was entirely healthy for her.

---

She steps up to the mic, and laughs, “Well, hey there, Crest Harbor. You know, this is our first real full house. Sold-out venue. How are we feeling about that?” And the stadium roars, noise like an earthquake. 

Fig laughs, the sun, bright and burning and untouchable, and she thinks that this is probably what it feels like to be a god. 

That night, she throws up alone in a hotel bathroom, drops her head on the lip of the toilet seat, her horns tugging her neck down, sick on expensive vodka and cheap fame, her body like an open wound. She misses her mom. She misses her friends. She even misses school, going just to skip class and spend all day bouncing between every class but the bard one. She’s never been this brilliant or this beloved or this lonely. 

Every day is a party. Every day is a celebration. Every day is bigger and brighter and better than the last, and all Fig wants to do is lay on the floor of her home and watch her friends tear each other apart with Just Dance. She wants to fill up on whatever baked good Adaine has churned out this week (she sent photos earlier, of strawberry cupcakes with messy little swirls of neon icing) and she wants to wrestle with Kristen for the TV remote and she wants to listen to her friends chatter about nothing.

Instead, she’s in the bathroom of a hotel room, puking up vodka, knuckles split from punching some asshole who thought that just because she kissed some people, she would want to kiss him. His nose has crunched under her fist; gods know Fig has broken more for less. It had felt righteous in the moment, but now she just feels nauseous and homesick. 

The tiles are cool under her knees, skirt hiked up around the places where she has scraped herself and tacked on band-aids. The toilet seat rests against her forehead. Her spine feels heavy, her skin scraped raw. Gorgug and Gorthalax went to bed hours ago. She doesn’t want to wake them up, not for something as silly as making her feel less homesick. She won’t bother them, not for that. 

Her crystal, discarded on the floor, winks up at her, taunting and reassuring, a mockery and a lifeline all at once. Fig considers muscling through, sitting all night long with the toilet and the whispers in her head. But then she caves. 

It’s four-thirty in the morning, and she calls the only person in the world she knows is still awake. He picks up on the first ring.

---

No idea who has already been tagged, but I'm tagging @rrat-king because I always always want to see what you're working on. No idea if you'll see this tonight, but if not hopefully we'll get some WIP Thursday!

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 20]

Madame Pseudo

TW: Language, ghosts, seances, Genre: Romance, Comedy Pairing: Moon Taeil x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 0.6K Prompt: “Let’s do a seance!” “Let’s not”

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: Last day! ... or is it? It is lol but hopefully I'll have my last little treat ready by Halloween! Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"Jesus fucking Christ," you cursed as soon as the lampshade toppled over. "Haechan, we can't stay here," you called your boyfriend over and he poked his head out of the bedroom.

"Why not?" As soon as he asked, the picture frame behind you fell over.

"That's why."

"Okay? So what? We have a roommate."

"Haechan!"

"Okay, okay... let's do a seance, then."

"Let's not, I don't want to invite any bad energy into our life," you argued.

"Invite? Babe, we live with a ghost! Maybe we can help them cross over or something."

"Mm..." You weren't convinced.

And you still weren't convinced when Haechan's hired spiritualist came in, whole kit in hand as she set up the area on your dining room table.

"I don't buy this, Haechan," you whispered.

"What do you mean? The ad said that she's an expert."

"Babe, her name is Madame Pseudo. Do you know what 'pseudo' means?" You asked. Haechan didn't answer. "Fake, Haechan, it means fake, Pseudoscience is fake science, Pseudonews is fake news, Madame Pseudo has pseudo credentials," you whispered quickly and you heard the spiritualist laugh.

"They never believe me at first," she lights the candles and invites you and Haechan to sit in front of her. You both do so. "Alright, tell me about this spirit."

"Well, they like to knock things over," you nodded toward the lampshade.

"Yeah, sometimes they'll pull (Y/N)'s hair too," Haechan says.

"Sometimes they'll draw scribbles on our walls too."

"I see, you may be dealing with the spirit of a child then," the spiritualist mutters.

"A kid?" You asked, feeling a sudden pang of guilt.

"Yes, children tend to not realize they're no longer of this world," Madame says. "They stay where they are, waiting for parents who probably aren't of this world anymore too." You swallowed harshly.

What a sad existence.

"Well, hopefully, we'll be able to send them across the plane. Remember, when you speak to the spirit, please be kind. Guide them toward the light," she says and she holds her hands out. You and Haechan take one of hers before holding on to one another's. Madame says a slow and steady chant before her eyes shoot open, pupils rolled to the back of her head so that only the whites of her eyes remained. "Have you seen my parents?" Her voice was noticeably not of her own. You and Haechan look at each other, a cold bead of sweat ran down your neck.

"No, I'm sorry," you responded.

"Why?"

"They don't live here anymore," you responded.

"Mm... where do I go then?"

"Toward the light, probably," Haechan cuts in. The spiritualist's head turns toward the window.

"That one?"

"Yeah," Haechan looked over, but it was dark, only the moon was visible tonight.

"Hmm... I'm scared. What if my parents come back home?"

"They're waiting for you over there," you cut in. The voice whimpered.

"I believe you," then the spiritualist collapsed on the table and after a few moments she stood up slowly and a bit pained. "It is done."

"That's it?"

"The spirit of children tend to be rather obedient, if you had an adult it might have been harder."

"I see... and if the supernatural things keep happening?"

"Well, you have my card now, right?"

"Yes?"

"Good, then give me a call," the spiritualist packs her things and you walk her to the door.

"I feel kind of bad now," you commented.

"Well, at least they won't be bothering us anymore," Haechan sighs and you both look at each other. Then, a knife flies from your kitchen and lodges in the wall next to the spiritualist. Everyone holds their breaths, and then things start flying.

"Hell is real!" She shrieks. "You're both on your own now!" She runs out and leaves you and Haechan behind, now clinging onto each other as objects slammed against the door, but once it closed the items fell to the ground. You and Haechan were, noticeably, unharmed.

"What the hell?" You muttered.

"We should move."

"Yes."

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Five, Part 1

-442

My phone woke me up. My first thought was to throw my phone across the room. Nobody calls me in the mornings.

"Fuck off," I answered tiredly. I yawned and took place of where I was. My room was a mess. I needed to do laundry soon. I heard laughter on the other line.

" Good morning to you too," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.

"It's early. I don't answer if it's early."

"Well, too bad. What are you doing tonight? When you're done with work." I still couldn't place who it was, but it was obviously someone I knew.

"Probably going home. Why?" I was intrigued. I really didn't want to go hang out with anyone after work. With the exception of Chad and Addison.

"Me and Kayla are going to Club Specter and you're coming along." It finally clicked who the voice belonged to. Conner. Conner and I had been pretty good friends while I lived in Oconomowoc. We had worked at the Arby's together. Every so often, him and his girlfriend, Kayla would come to Milwaukee, and give me no choice but to hang out with them for the night. In a way it was kind of nice, guess.

"Ok, I guess I'll be doing that."

"You know if you said no, we'd still force your sorry ass out," he said. And they would. They would scour my known hangouts until they found me and would drag me kicking and screaming out of the places I would hide in.

"I know you would. Only reason I'm agreeing. It's easy when you don't have a choice in the matter." I yawned as I spoke.

"I'll take it. You should be done by eleven right?"

"Hopefully."

"Cool, then we'll just meet you there."

"Yeah, I'll grab a go-bag."

"Right on. See you later." And he hung up.

I sighed and stretched, finally looking to see the time. It was almost noon, so I guess I couldn't be too upset being woken up. I still hated waking up to a phone call. I'm already weird and awkward, and adding just waking up into the mix makes it so much worse. I guess I should be happy he called. I had two hours to get ready and get myself to work.

I grabbed some clothes and hopped in the shower, washing the sweat of night off. The nightmares were still there, but every once in a while I get a night without them.

Once done, I threw my clothes on, and throwing some extra 'goth' clothes in a canvas backpack. I grabbed my essentials; phone, wallet, cigarettes and lighter. Out the door I went, lighting a cigarette as I locked the door behind me. June was here and it was a beautiful day out. The sky was infinite in it's blue ocean. The air was warm, with the taste of summer air brushing my lips.

As I was walking, my phone rang again. This was unusual. Hell, it was unusual for it to ring once. I looked at the caller ID and couldn't help but smile. We had been talking at least once every day. Either through a phone call or through some form of instant messaging.

"Hey," I answered, knowing full well she could hear the smile on my face. Every call I spent with her was spent with a smile glued to my face.

"Hi. What are you doing?"

"I am making my way to work. Why, what's up?" I asked.

[cosmicmote]

A World So Full of Inversions and Something Else

makes for a lot of wasted potentials

though maybe not wasted for all,

too many people get off on that.

it's still day one and we'll talk about care

health care and treatment, repeatedly denied and

actively blocked as a kid, routinely

for example I was taken to emergency room as a kid

at 13, gut pains and they went away but

the doctors recognized all the signs of abuse and I didn't

after all they didn't hit or touch me, but they were right all along and

they wanted to keep me, just for one night of course and

a couple years before that I was getting stitched up and a nurse said the same

but the doctor interjected that the parents were always right even when they're not

but he knew and I knew

that much at least

I remember quite clearly, my heart as well

the nurse said that's why she could never be a republican whatever

(it's a false paradigm in a cage with sinks aplenty)

other good points they had, positions, she was angered and stormed off

the two of us helpless, and disillusioned

never to be seen again

if only temporarily, see that's how it works

from the age of 3 maybe sooner

self-medicating had to come later here, bound to

learned, I bought a book on editing, just tonight, it looks old and good but

hopefully it helps me make me a better writer

how to write Gertrude had had the rhythms of life

far down better than Wu Tang not to slag but they were over rated

there was the golden era before, without and without modernities

did I spell that write

I'll mention care and self care again while I'm here a broken clock

it's not a clock as it doesn't tell time, it's just a noxious noise maker and

it has its hands

it carries over onto its owners or vice versa, keeping it around so long but

it tunes at christ mas oh the so little important happy things in life

so much is unrequited, then there's the wrong number woman whom

I've never responded to, but I do genuinely care I do she's

just not that very savvy, and the rest is something else

it has been over three years now and more and

it's not that the number is wrong but

that it doesn't belong to who she thinks it does

I'm under the impression some guy was looking to get rid of her and

she lives not far from him and looks for him there but

me I could say I'm somewhere else entirely but

there are mirrors in this world that don't show illusions and

the voodoo comes through in her voice, presumably ex smoker too

I hear the British are banning that or some such

in George Michael's finally year, go figure

every fire has its own desires which

explains the sun and middle earth and all the hells

hell fires sure are bright and shiny but their needs

they'll be met, somewhere along the way of time and

there's that doppelganger paranirvana too

which Kerouac drank himself to obtain

like wise he was quite wise

too much so for his own good or

at least everyone else's like Allen's

like later in life the cards he was carrying

nobody listened or heard nor really wanted to have it published either

words ©spacetree 2024

[aggressivelyclueless]

hey @theshitpostcalligrapher you wanted a horror story? ^_^

fair disclaimer this is a pt1 and it's a first-draft so please excuse my typos; also im going a bit hogwild so it may end up slightly longer than short-story territory (whoops) but i'll try and keep it shortish? hopefully? anyways if u have any thoughts/critique/suggestions/whatever then let me know! i wanna hear em!

Yu Lin breezed through the upstairs level in a little less than an hour. Aside from the master bedroom, there wasn't much up there -- a stale spare room which served as a perfect time capsule of the nineties; the odd upstairs closet whose backside opened to a cupboard in the master bathroom. Nothing his conscience argued too strongly to keep. When he got to the last door by the top of the stairs, he imagined it to be another spare room: sparsely furnished, no doubt a rife breeding ground for dust bunnies and nostalgia.

The door swung open with a deceptive, almost mischievous ease, and -- glimpsing the room's contents -- he groaned. Cardboard boxes posed as furniture here, some piled up in the corners, others stacked far too high and leaning drunkenly on each other for support. Every one of them was taped shut. None, he saw, were marked.

"Oh, sonofabitch," he muttered, watching the afternoon slip through his fingers like a dream. This was the last of Grandda's rooms to be cleared out (well, except for the downstairs storage, but by the sounds of it, Angie was attacking that pretty effectively), and he was supposed to finish up and get back to Portland in time to feed the cat, maybe even feed himself, before getting to work.

Now, staring at the corrugated mountain range that may as well have extended for miles past the faded blue walls, all of that was gone. He would get nothing written tonight.

But, damn, he couldn't just leave it.

Resigned, he shuffled downstairs to arm himself with the only meager defenses he could think of: sharpie, boxcutter, spare tape. The carpet in the living room had been vacuumed to within an inch of its life, but there was no getting rid of the decades-old footprints where the sofa and end table had gone; Lin found himself stepping aorund them as if they were still there, found himself wondering if this was how most ghost stories began: as habits.

But he wouldn't know. Horror was not his genre.

"Hey!" Angie's voice was aimed at the upstairs landing, punching loudly enough in Lin's ears to make him flinch. She was coming up with a box overfilled with shirts, not having bothered to fold them; sleeves in all colors hung out the sides like fingers. Seeing him, she started, propping the box on a hip. Her voice was much more reasonable the second time. "I was wondering if you wanted any of these. They look about your size."

He could not think of a single time that Grandda had ever worn black -- or a time (within the last decade, at least) that Lin himself had worn any other color. "No, thanks."

"Well. I thought I'd ask anyhow," said Angie, plopping the box down alongside a handful of others by the door. "You didn't finish up there already, did you? I was beating you earlier."

Lin shook his head slowly. "No. You still are. The last room's where he left all his crap."

". . . did you want a hand, once I'm done?"

"Probably. We'll see how far I get." His prediction: not far. Halfway, if he got very lucky and all those boxes turned out to be out-of-season decor or all the stored hardware and cables form the computer room that got renovated six years prior. All of that would at least be chucked quickly, and going through it would not take long.

He went back up and sized up the first stack of boxes in sight, picking one totally at random to start with. What if it was all junk?

The first box, dismally heavy, was filled with cracking, yellowed newspapers.

Every one of them had to be sorted through, reduced to clippings, consolidated. If Grandda had kept them, his name was on at least one article in the issue, at least one article in every issue. To hell with the afternoon: Lin had just opened the death warrant for the entire week.

But this had to be done, and all of a sudden he was the only one who could do it. Angie would not help him. She could, at least to the extent that she could snip out strings of Grandda's words and pile them up in a box and forget about them. But that -- Lin was instantly convinced of this -- would be a disservice. He had not known Grandda very deeply, but he was certain that the old man would not approve.

So it fell upon him and him alone.

It took half an hour to get through the first box, and by then he was sitting amidst a sprawl of crinkling papers, surrounded on all sides. The old man's career was tracked by the dates on the newspapers: sporadic at first, then gaining in frequency until at least two or three articles appeared in every issue. Then they cut off at once -- that was the first time he had tried to get that magazine of his up and running. Failure demanded that he return to the news job, though Lin couldn't see how that had added up. The guy could write. The guy could really write, Lin mouthed absently (and not, he would admit later, without a pang of jealousy), the pace at which he was skimming through the clippings beginning to slow. The articles, especially these early ones, were brief, but he saw the talent: he tried to imagine Grandda in his prime, with all the wrinkles ironed out and a vigor in his smile that hadn't been worn around the edges yet.

Writing like this, how had his first magazine failed to sell?

He was poignant; compassionate; direct; all the things that Lin was not. He could pick a single heartstring from a bundle and pluck it, turning minds toward or away from an issue. He could even do it through the half-century since these little flashes of fact had been written: Lin found himself caring about a candidate for governor that had run in the election of 1974.

How did he do that? Lin's novel was selling all right, his editor said, but suddenly that may as well have meant terrible.

All of a sudden, he wanted -- no, needed -- to write like that.

But he did not have the time to go through all of these right now. He stacked the clippings carefully inside one of the six boxes he had emptied, and dumped the discarded papers into the other ones without a second thought. There was a modest pile of special issue magazines, undated, but one glance told him he would find nothing useful in them: they were written entirely in Mandarin, and Lin could barely read it, much less shoot for a workable translation.

He almost tossed them out.

Almost, except at the last moment he hesitated, the little stack hovering over the pile of papers to be thrown away. He should at least look through them first, once he had more time to reacquaint himself with the script. He had been passable at it once (passable, and also four years old). Surely, he could relearn? He pawed slowly through the issues, pronouncing the titles with the little he could recall from his earliest childhood.

But the last one, bound in ratty, powder-blue cloth, was written in English. Its cover read simply: A Bookworm's Guide to Writer's Block. There was no author listed.

Lin turned it over, curious. Had Grandda used this one when he was starting out? It looked to have been around for that long. He thumbed to a page at random, not entirely sure what sort of advice he would find -- certainly not a lone sentence scrawled in a spider's hand.

Clear your burden and lay it on me.

There went that single heartstring, plucked once and once only, somewhere deep and inscrutable in Lin's chest. No -- in his mind, something had been plucked and it was working itself loose. It would take a minute, or more; he did not want to rush it.

Oh, but he could not wait.

The next page: write the words for yourself first.

He could use this. Not only that, he needed this. He did not leave it with the rest of the saved writings, even the important ones -- it went directly into his lap, where he would start from the beginning. Whatever had been knotting itself in his brain for the past few weeks, this had pulled an end of it loose. Once unraveled, he could finally finish the second book.

He was sure of it.

Upon every page, Lin found, was written a single sentence like a precision strike. The book knew -- whoever had written it knew -- exactly how stopped up he was, exactly where to pull the thread loose and get him thinking again, exactly where to redirect. He thought, in a mad rush of clarity, that he could never possibly be blocked again. He reached the last page, his fingers stained black with old ink from too many weathered newspapers and magazines. Oh, yes, he would keep this one.

He was aware, or rather he became aware in that moment, that Angie was frowning at him from the doorframe.

". . . think you'll have time later?"

Blinking, Lin had failed to catch anything before that. "Sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted me to say hi to Spudbud on my way home. You don't look like you're going anywhere for a while."

"Yeah," said Lin, remembering belatedly what year it was, and only after that came the mental reminder that he did not have time to get one written tonight, much less the five-thousand that were suddenly pounding at the gates. "If you could, that'd be great."

Angie just nodded along. "Don't worry about it. Did you still want the hand?"

"No. I'll take care of" -- gesturing wearily at the whirl of papers still around him -- "this. I got it, really."

"Okayyyy," said Angie, rocking back on her heels. "I'll be back tomorrow, if you change your mind. Just don't be a weirdo and stay up all night. Or, do, if you want."

"I won't," said Lin, aiming to sound reassuring although he didn't quite have it. He glanced down at the book in his hands, giving its cover a few pats. If he was going to stay any longer, he should at least move around a little bit and stretch first? Maybe he could scrounge up a notebook, too. Ten-thousand words -- oh, yes! ten-thousand, why not? -- were not going to write themselves, now, were they?

By the time that he heard Angie's Corolla back out of the driveway out front, he was already rooting through his bag for a pen, having entirely glossed over the fact that the ink had vanished from his fingertips as if by magic.

[schmutzigertauberengelsjungen]

WHEN will she go back to bed so I can go smoke 😭

[0oolookitsme]

Type- One-Shoty Blurb

Verse- Ceo!Y/n x Singer!Harry

Warnings- None! Just fluff <3

Word Count- 1.5k

A/N- I know it's been long, but it's better sometime than never, right? (you better agree and yeah I made that up <3)

Description- Amore had convinced harry to do a little show in London so that she and her brother can see him perform their mutually favourite song, live for the first time.

"Amore! Darling for fu- for time's sake, stop running!" Y/n yelled, massaging the crease off her forehead while jogging after the little girl with her clothes hanging down her elbow. "Fine. Don't ask me for soup when you get sick." she mumbled -of course she didn't mean it, but sometimes it's necessary- loud enough for Amore to hear and come to a halt; as she had picked up on her dad's taste and would happily have soup daily.

The little girl slowly turned around, looking at y/n with her famous puppy eyes. "Mummy mad?" She questioned, walking in the direction where her mother stood, in a blue polka shirt and white wide-legged jeans. Amore's sure that while leaving, Y/n will have some sort of coat added to her attire. A coat is like her entire personality.

Y/n laughed in sarcasm as she picked up her daughter. "Give those eyes to your daddy, love."

Amore dramatically shook her head before letting her mum wrap her arms around her tiny body so she can pick her up. After a little walk around, she's placed on a chair and is having a yellow frock slipped down her head and past her arms. It's a simple frock with a dark blue ribbon stitched around the waist.

"Was Andre ready when you came out?"

"Not really, no. He was choosing clothes and wasn't exactly looking in a good mood, if I saw right," Amore informs her mother, who now seems a little troubled.

She doesn't know if she's a good face reader or her mum and brother just show emotions like they are written on their faces. Oh, and her dad too.

"You can either sit like a good girl and not call your dad, or you won't be getting any story read to you tonight. Deal?" Y/n offers Amore, more of tells her.

Amore seems to go deep in a thought before she's speaking. "What do I get in return for sitting like a good girl?" She asks after coming to a conclusion, and Y/n seems quite proud at how she has picked up on simple business skills but calms her mind down. She doesn't know why Amore repeating her statement sounded like a witty comeback to her, but she shrugs it off anyways.

"You get to read a chapter on your own too. How about that?" The woman knows that her daughter will not be able to turn this down and so, as soon as Amore squeaks out a 'done!', Y/n is turning on her heels and fleeting off to Andre's room.

Opening the door to his room, her eyebrows seem to turn into an upside down frown and she's immediately exhaling a long breath before entering inside.

"What's wrong, darling? Can't seem to choose what you want to wear?"

Andre turns to look at her and plops down on the floor, seeming a little relaxed but still frustrated. "There are no clothes for me to wear mummy!"

Her mind works before her voice-box and mouth, and Y/n's quick to gulp down the loud laughter. She swears both the kids inherited Harry's dramatic side. She also, might have absorbed some over the years. "Would you like me to help you out?" She asks.

"Yes please," he sheepishly answers, and y/n's glad to hear him accept help.

Walking in further, she picks him up and holds him close to her, supporting his back with an arm and shuffling through his clothes with another. "Amore is wearing yellow and blue, I'm wearing White and blue. How about you wear something... Aha! How about this blue tank top? You can wear a white cardigan over it.. We'll be matching! Wouldn't you like that?" She asks as enthusiastically as she can, rocking him a little to hopefully cheer him up.

Though, one look down at him and she sees his cheek squished just below her collarbone so tightly that y/n can't even feel him nodding. He's smiling at the skin-to-skin contact with his mum and y/n knows that.

"Just wanted your mummy, didn't you little boy?" Y/n jokingly grumbles, tickling him under his chin.

-

Everyone was settled by now. Harry's band members were sitting on their assigned spots with their signature instruments, waving back at the fans every once in a while. It wasn't completely silent as there were still hoots ringing in the room out of blues. A laugh was pulled out of everyone's stomach when a fan yelled how they were only there for Sarah.

Amore, Andre and Y/n were standing securely in a corner and weren't spotted yet. Something y/n's grateful for and has her fingers crossed for it to remain that way, the whole time. Though she's sure they will be caught when exiting in the middle, she's ready for it.

The lights go full on bright when Harry finally enters the stage, after getting his ear piece fixed. And, the audience once again broke into cheers, hoots, claps, and shouts; all for him. Harry walked to his mic while blowing kisses in all directions, his skin glowing and his smile seeming to be the widest of all.

Y/n put on those soft fluffy headphones on the kids' head till he starts performing as no matter how secured they are from the fans' sight, they can still hear their deafening screams. Screams calling out for Harry, whom they are getting to see for the first time, the last time or after a long-long time.

Considering he did go on a year and a half long break for his family after finishing his tour to sing his album: Fine Line to people, live.

Y/n still hasn't grown used to the feeling of pride which swells up in her chest every time she sees him performing in front of thousands of people, or even just standing on a stage. All the pre-show anxiety which he has, is proven to be silly when he steps on the stage and, during his post-show adrenaline rush.

Just as he finishes thanking everyone and the band finishes tuning and fixing their instruments, his hand goes to hook around his mic. Some amount of wire wrapped around his hand already.

"Everyone, this is Sunflower, volume 6," Harry announced and y/n had a wide smile on her face when the kids squeaked in happiness, jumping up and down, and clapping for their daddy.

To say the fans were surprised would be an understatement. But they would solve the theory behind it soon when they see his family leaving; as he has said in a interview that both of his kids enjoy the song mutually.

And obviously, the kids wouldn't stay for the whole show, only the first song on the small setlist. He would just be performing: Sunflower vol. 6, To Be so Lonely, Adore You and Fine Line. And it surprised him even as to how quickly the show tickets were sold-out just for four songs; he really did get lucky in all terms - with his wife, with his twins, with his best four life-long mates, and with his loveliest of fans, friends and family.

He has no doubt that he's the luckiest man on this earth.

Y/n's head starts to bob from side to side as the intro of the song starts, the kids on each side of her smiling and singing along as melodiously as possible.

"Sunflower. Sunflower. My eyes, want you more than a melody..."

Just as the lyric was about to finish, Amore is quick to pat on Y/n's thigh to ask her to bend down and listen to her. "Dad looked at you while singing that," she giggled sweetly, putting her hand in front of her mouth, almost blushing.

"Did he, now?" Y/n teased, poking the girl's flushed cheek. She turned to look at Andre when her daughter had turned her attention back onto her dad, and was happy to see him enjoying without much care in the world.

"I couldn't want you any more, kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor. I couldn't want you any more tonight, (tonight, tonight, tonight)...."

This time, their eyes met and Y/n swears that Harry covered his blush with a lopsided grin.

As much out of the melody the kids are singing, y/n's heart still can't stop swelling with love as she watches her three favourite people sing their hearts out, their skins glowing and eyes glittering. She just hopes that tears don't well up in her eyes due to this overwhelming feeling.

Everyone sang in the chorus for so long and now that the song is nearing it's ending, everyone can't help but realize the crowd quieting down; because it's nearing that part.

"Sunflower, sunflower

Sunflower, sunflower

Ay!, woo, ow

boop-boop, woo, boop-boop, woo

boop-boop, woo, boop-boop, woo

boop-boop, woo, boop-boop, woo

Yeah!

Ooh-woo, oohooh

Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, bur, bur, bur."

All during this part, y/n couldn't choose whom to focus on-- Harry, or Amore and Andre, and it's the most wholesome part for the trio. She looked at Harry, only to see him peeking over at their kids, playing with them from afar. And, when she looked down to see her kids, they seemed to be drunk on happiness and her heart ached with the hope that they always feel like that.

[theeroticahub]

A Picture With Sis

Hey

The short text message had popped onto my phone screen unexpectedly. It was from my baby sister, Noah. I had recently had to move back in with our parents after a few personal disasters in my own life, so I was suddenly seeing a lot more of her. Which was very strange, as I had left home for school and then work on the opposite side of the country when she was all of twelve. Now she was nineteen and...honestly still as much of a brat as when I left. While she had grown, she remained short and flat as a washboard. The real draw--not for me, her older brother, of course--was her ass. Noah ran track in high school and still found time to jog almost every morning. This gave her a bubble butt that she constantly kept in shape and loved to show off.

What's up I texted back

I waited as those three unholy "still typing dots" danced on screen.

R u gonna be home tonight?

Yeah, probably.

Do u want to watch a movie or something.

Now, this was very odd. As long as I had been back, Noah had wanted nothing to do with me. Like I said, she was still a bit of a brat, even as an adult. I didn't take it too personally. Honestly, before I was forced to come home, I never made much of an effort to visit. I talked to my parents on the phone, but Noah always seemed busy with her own life and her own friends. I was far away and she was busy growing up. Maybe that's all it was: a little sister wanting to reconnect with a sibling she hadn't seen hide or tail in seven years.

I'd be down for a movie.

She "heart" reacted and texted back: ok, what should we watch?

Hey, isn't this your idea???

I know, but I never know what to pick :( That's why I never watch movies alone.

You're on Netflix all the time?

Uh, watching tv? like a normal person???

Okay, I'll pick something out that we'll both like.

She heart reacted again and replied: it's a date.

The conversation wrapped up after that, but it was still all so strange. It's a date. That seemed so out of character for Noah to say, especially to me of all people.

I decided I was overthinking it and got back to my day. After all, part of me was looking forward to getting a chance to just hang out with my sister. The only hurdle now was picking a good movie.

(- - -)

Evening rolled around and I made my way to the living room. I had to pass by the kitchen to get there and found Noah by the oven.

"Are you cooking something?" I asked her.

Noah turned to me and for a second, I was struck by how much she'd grown up while I was gone. I gave her a hard time, but she really had become a beautiful woman. She had on a blue dress that complimented the runner's body she had given herself. After wearing her hair short for years, she had grown out her dark curls to perfectly frame her face. When her eyes caught mine, I froze in place.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm making us some pizza for our movie."

"You didn't want to just

order out?"

Noah made a mock offended expression, "Are you scared to try my cooking?"

I laughed and replied, "No, I'm sure it'll be great. I guess I'm just used to movie nights being low threshold events. Order out, stream something, pass out on a couch..."

"Oh, like all your movie nights end on a couch," she said, rolling her eyes. Again, it was a strange comment. I was talking about watching movies in general, and suddenly she's accusing me of Netflix and Chilling...not that she was off base. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely one of those kids who used "cinephile" as a personality description for a couple years, but I wasn't above using the storied medium of film as a pretense to invite a girl over and hopefully get a piece of ass.

Which made the whole situation stranger because Noah was obviously not a piece of ass. I wouldn't deny that I thought she was very attractive, but that was an objective aesthetic response. I already had no idea where this night was going.

(- - -)

Noah pulled her pizza out of the oven --- diced chicken, banana peppers, black olives, and a creamy alfredo sauce for toppings--- and we settled on our parents' couch to stuff our faces and watch something.

"Are Mom and Dad going to join us?" I asked.

Noah gave me a funny look and then said, "Nah, they've got a thing?"

"A thing?"

"Yeah," she said, and I didn't press further. Like I said, this night was getting weird.

I clicked through the myriad of apps on our parents' smart tv to my desired choice. It was a sort of fantasy-western mash-up movie that was a few decades old but I had been wanting to see for a long time. I was about to hit play when Noah stopped me.

"So, I was thinking..." she started to say.

"Yeah?"

"Did you maybe wanna drink while we're watching?"

Alcohol. In my experience, alcohol was not a good way to make it through the full runtime of a movie, especially when a cute girl was involved. What was going on? What was Noah thinking?

Of course, I had an obvious justification: she still couldn't buy alcohol herself. Our parents weren't super-conservative, but I imagine Noah wasn't getting quite as much booze in her living in their house as she had been during the school year.

"Sure, I could use a drink," I said, deciding not to argue the point, "I hope vodka's okay?"

"Vodka's my favorite!" Noah practically shouted. It was almost cute, "What do you have for mixers?"

"Uh, I don't know, check the kitchen."

"What you don't mix your drinks?"

"Straight vodka, baby," I told her, "I'm sure we can find you something. Maybe a screwdriver?"

"No," she said, her hand grabbing at my wrist, "I'll drink it straight."

The touch was unexpected. It rattled me a little. The whole night already had an off vibe and now this. Should I really be drinking with

my little sister? She was family.

It would be fine.

"Okay, I'll be right back," I said. Noah squealed in delight and gave me a peck on the cheek. I just smiled and averted my eyes, quickly making my way to my room for my secret stash. While Noah had only asked for vodka, I had paraphernalia for a few "other things" we could do, but I didn't want to push it. The last thing I needed was my kid sister trying to press me for weed and Adderall at odd hours of the night.

I made my way back to the kitchen with the bottle. Noah had already put out some glasses with ice.

"Oh, you used coasters, even," I said as I poured us each a drink.

"Well, of course," she said, "I'm not an animal."

We laughed and settled in to finally start the movie.

(- - -)

An hour later, I was seriously questioning my thought process over the course of the day.

We still had an hour of the film to go and had put a serious dent in the vodka. I was feeling pretty loose, so I could only imagine how Noah was holding up. Even after I had stopped pouring drinks for her, she just started to help herself. Tiny as the girl was, she drank like a monster.

None of this was the upsetting part, but it definitely enabled it: Noah and I were cuddled up like horny freshmen on a first date. We had been sitting close together at the beginning, but by this point in the movie she was basically on top of me. My little sister was sitting in my lap in a dress that I was suddenly very aware of being much, much too short. It had all happened pretty imperceptibly. It seem like she shifted herself a little closer to me every few minutes, but the more we drank, the less I thought of it. It was only in a brief moment of clarity that I realized we looked like that couple at a house show whose age difference you cringe at a little but don't say anything about. Sure, I lusted after eighteen year-olds the same as anyone, but once I left college and hit the real world, I gave up on hitting the high of that brand of fresh, young...you get the idea.

So that it was happening now, with my little sister of all people, was a little upsetting. Not that she seemed to mind: she was the one who had devoted the past hour to slowly planting herself in my lap. The weight of her ass pressed down on my crotch and it was honestly driving me insane.

At this point, I still had no idea what her game was, and I was so inebriated I couldn't think straight enough to make sense of what was going on, much less stop it.

In this haze of alcoholic and sexual confusion, I was ill prepared for Noah to turn to me with half-lidded eyes and a little smile on her face.

"This is a really, really good movie," she said, her words slurring a little, "You always pick such good movies."

She gave me a kiss on the lips and then added, "I love you."

"I love you too," I said back. It was all I could think to say. Events and feelings were piling up that I suddenly had no tools to make sense of. I was completely ill-equipped to understand what was going on.

"Really?" she asked, "because I love you lots and lots."

Noah had turned around and was now straddling my hips with her bare legs. Her hands found my shoulders and then the back of my neck. This was completely out of control. Her eyes still had that sexy half-lidded look. What was happening?

"Do you love me, lots and lots?" she asked.

This was when I started to lose control. My hands found Noah's hips and grasped them firmly, trying to hold her in place, afraid whatever illusion we were indulging in might collapse. I stared at her face. She really did have a beautiful face.

"Do I need to show you how much love you?" I asked her. I had no idea what I was doing. I was putting the moves on my sister, feeding her the kind of line I would feed some indie bimbo I met at a party or on tinder.

But Noah just bit her lip and nodded her head.

So I kissed her.

This wasn't a quick kiss like the last couple she had given me. We were making out. Her little pink tongue wrestling with mine. I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked, laughing too but also a bit indignant.

"You taste like pizza," I said. She started laughing harder and started kissing me again. We went at it like that for a while until I realized we had missed a sizable chunk of the movie and I had no idea what was happening. Noah noticed me glancing at the screen.

"I'm sorry," she said, between planting little kisses all over my face, "I know you were excited to watch that."

"I'll finish it another night," I told her.

"I'm tired," she said, suddenly pouty.

"You want me to take you to bed?" I asked and she nodded, "Ok, let's go."

Her dreamy little smile came back and we went back to making out. Without any warning, I moved my hands from her hips to the bottoms of her thighs and stood, lifting us both up. Noah yelped, but kept kissing me.

"Your room or mine?" I asked.

"Your room," she said, "I used to sleep in there all the time after you left."

"Because it's bigger?"

"Because it was yours."

Again, I was struck by confusion. I hadn't realized Noah had missed me at all, much less this much. She had been a pretty quiet kid and I had left, a surly preteen with a chip on her shoulder about her goofy parents. Then her big brother ran off to college on the opposite side of the country and left her alone. Was that why all of this was happening right now?

"My room it is," I said. Noah squealed and hugged herself close to me as I made our way through the house and up to my room. When we got there, we fell back onto my bed, Noah's body pressed between me and my mattress. This was out of control. I knew I should stop, but in the vodka haze, it just made sense to keep going.

"We need to get ready for bed," I told you, breaking the kiss again, "Unless you want us to wear our clothes to bed."

She nodded no this time and I got off her. I took off my pants on reflex, since I usually just slept in my t-shirt and underwear, but Isuddenly felt embarrassed at being exposed like this in front of my little sister. I shouldn't have been, as when I turned around, Noah had stripped off her dress to reveal she was almost completely naked underneath except for ankle socks and a flimsy pair of tiny panties that barely hid the dark happy trail that descended from her navel to the waistband and inevitably to a hairy little teen pussy I was suddenly in very close proximity to.

Part of me was screaming that I shouldn't be ogling my little sister, but another part of me was completely lost in what was happening. Her tits were a couple of perfect handfuls of female flesh. She was the most perfect girl I had ever seen. Better than any of my exes. Better than classic artwork. Better than porn.

Noah extended her arms out to me like a child demanding affection.

"Love me."

(- - -)

The rising sun and a ding from my phone woke me up in my now empty room. I rubbed my head, suffering from an intense vodka hangover, and took stock of the state of myself and my room. I had apparently fallen asleep naked and my bed was in total disarray: sheets on the floor, pillows thrown around, and blue dress and a pair of panties in a pile in the corner.

"So that did happen," I said to myself, "Why did she leave her clothes?"

I had to search around for my phone, which I finally found on the floor on the other side of the room, a message from Noah waiting for me

Hey Perv ;P

Where'd u go?

Miss me already?

I started to type out my reply when another message pinged on the screen:

Here's something to tide u over followed by a little heart.

The message came attached with a series of images. The first couple were just nudes of Noah--not distasteful, but a little weird for a brother to have--but the next few got increasingly obscene, ending in my little sister covered in cum.

wtf??

Instead of replying, she sent me a video, this time of her on her knees, sucking a cock I soon recognized as my own. From the angle of the shot, it was clear I had taken the video myself, and presumably the other pics Noah sent me.

Fuck, how drunk was I last night?

lol was all she said in reply.

This can't happen again, I told her. She went quiet after that. For the rest of the day, I wandered around and tried to process what had happened. I could recall almost all of the night before and while Noah certainly hadn't raped me, I blacked out right before the actual sex, which made my stomach turn. Had she just sucked me off and had me video it for her, or had we gone further? Why would my sister even want to get me drunk and have me violate her? My head was spinning and none of this made any sense to me. I was totally twisted up over it all.

Curiosity finally got the better of me and I made my way to Noah's room. Knocking on her door, part of me was hoping she wouldn't answer, that I could go on ignoring this whole bizarre situationInstead, the door slowly cracked open, revealing Noah standing there in an old t-shirt of mine and some pajama pants.

"Why didn't you text me?" Noah asked, clinging to the door, "I don't look cute, I don't even have make-up on."

"I just wanted to talk," I told her. Noah pulled me into her room and shut the door behind her. Without so much as another word, she pulled me into a sloppy kiss, her arms around my neck.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, planting little kisses all over my face and neck as I just stood there, completely perplexed, my hands instinctively moving to hold her hips. Even with all the feelings boiling in me, I couldn't ignore how sexy Noah actually was.

"I'm not mad," I told her, "I'm just confused. Why are you doing all of this? We weren't that close when I left."

Noah just bit her lip and cuddled up close to me.

"I'll explain, but can we move to the bed first?"

A little suspicious, I agreed anyway and crawled into my sister's bed with me. She stripped off her pajama pants to reveal her bare ass and pussy and cuddled up with me again. I almost said something, but I just sighed and put my arm around her.

"It started after you left," she started to explain, "I didn't realize how much I was going to miss you until you were gone, but then something happened. All the guys I tried to date, everyone who was interested in me, I always found myself comparing them to you. For whatever reason, you were my measure for what a boy should be. You were my high watermark. When I started to get good at masturbating, it was your face I saw when I came for the first and every time after. I've been sexually obsessed with you the entire time you were gone."

I just looked at her silently as she told me all of this, unsure how to even begin to respond.

"When you came back, I just completely lost it. I didn't want to hang out with my friends, I didn't want to go to work or do my school work, all I could think about was fucking you. I was up in this room rubbing out orgasm after orgasm the entire time you've been back and you didn't even know. It was so frustrating I thought I'd go crazy. You were my brother and I knew you'd never touch me or even make a pass at me, so I hatched a plan."

"To get me drunk and record it?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling out of my embrace to take her shirt off. She settled back into my arm completely naked except for a little gold Star of David necklace, her pale, little face framed by her long black hair the way her black pubic hair framed her perfect young pussy.

"I definitely would have never thought to do any of this on my own," I told her, moving my hand to her tit, "but the blackmail was a nice touch."

Noah moaned as I groped her, "Blackmail? Those were for me. The only thing that gets me off more than thinking about fucking you is watching myself get fucked by you."

"I didn't realized I had such a pervert little sister," I said as I moved to cup her mons, penetrating her pussy lips with my middle finger. She gasped at the feeling of my hands inside her.

"Keeping doing that," she said, "Your pervert little sister loves when her big brother touches her."

I kept working her clit. Surprisingly, it wasn't long until she was moaning and shaking, the throes of orgasm taking over her body. She really must havebeen wound up. Leaving her splayed across the sheets as she hit her come down, I quickly shucked off my clothes, my cock standing at ready to penetrate her once again. It seemed as if she had only just caught her breath as I mounted her. She let out another cute little moan as my cockhead penetrated her body. Hearing her squeak and moan in surprise at the intensity of the sensations sent me flying over the edge. I drove my cock home.

Balls deep in my little sister's pussy, I just lost all control. I'd been with a fair share of partners, but this was different. This was absolute, raw animal fucking. I wanted to possess her body and make my sister into my personal human sex toy. The intensity was unlike anything I had ever experience before.

Of course, with all that build up--and her hands clawing at my neck and back, thrashing under me in pleasure--it wasn't long until I felt the semen churning inside of me, read to burst.

"I'm gonna..." I started to say. Noah interrupted by pulling me into a kiss, locking her legs around me at the same time, so I had no escape. I shot my full load up into her waiting, cum-hungry womb. I was...in heaven.

"Fuck," Noah whimpered under me, "It feels so hot inside me. It feels so good."

"I love you," I told her, surprisingly myself.

She just smiled and kissed me again, "I love you too, big brother."

I collapsed onto the bed as Noah bounced up and ran off to use the bathroom. It was only then, when it was too late to do anything, that the immensity of what we had done really hit me. We had committed a crime. We had committed a sin. We were no longer sibling but lovers.

[mimisempai]

An eternity with you

Summary:

It's Mobius' birthday, and everyone seems to have forgotten him.  Mobius hides his pain.  Will Loki be able to save the day? Prompt request : In the fic, could it be like Mobius was hurt and angry with everyone and Loki because no one remembered his birthday, forgetting that Loki doesn't even know his birthday?

Notes:

Hoping that the result will be up to your expectations ^^ @koushiki-das ! Happy birthday !

On AO3

Rating G - 1396 words

This day had always been special for Mobius. 

But today, it wasn't just the fact that it was his birthday that made it special, but the fact that he would be celebrating it with the person who loved him, for the first time. All of his other birthdays he had spent alone, counting down the seconds at midnight until he was a year older, a year older in this universe.

"Mobius?" Loki's voice was still doused with sleep, but Mobius knew he had been awake for a long time.

"Mmm?" Mobius didn't open his eyes, preferring to snuggle closer to the warmth of Loki's body. "You should get up, or we'll be late at the TVA."

Mobius opened his eyes. Was Loki serious? At least he seemed to be. Could it be that he had forgotten? 

Mobius felt a wave of sadness wash over him and immediately looked away, biting his lip. He closed his eyes and counted to ten in silence before standing up and heading to the bathroom, forcing a smile on his face.

"Oh and Mobius?" Mobius turned, hopefully, when Loki said with a wink, "Don't take all the warm water."

It didn't take long for him to disappear into the shower and get lost in the hot water jet where he could pretend that it wasn't tears running down his face but the hot water of the shower because really, who would cry just because their lover had forgotten their birthday?

Two hours later, Mobius' mood had completely deteriorated, not a single person had wished him his birthday! Not a single person! C-90, B-15, Sylvie, all his former colleagues, nobody!

The only one who could have still done it was Casey, but he wasn't there today.

Every time he had crossed paths with Loki during the day, he had done everything he could to make sure that he didn't notice anything, hiding his pain behind his smiles, but tonight, as he was going home, alone, all he wanted to do was to go hide under his comforter and sleep to forget this day.

For his part Loki whistled as he put his things away in his locker, the day was finally over and he was looking forward to spending the evening with Mobius.

"Is it Mobius' birthday that makes you so happy? Did you plan a surprise for him? By the way, tell him I was sorry I wasn't there today to wish him."

"What?!" Loki turned to Casey who had just entered the locker room, "My Mobius has his birthday today?!"

"Oh no Loki, don't tell me you forgot."

Loki protested vehemently, "No, no I didn't forget, I just didn't know. You know how unusual our relationship is, we never really exchanged that kind of detail, especially since on Asgard we didn't really care about our birthdays because we are so long-lived. But back to Mobius. What am I going to do? I know my Mobius, something like that must have hurt him and he probably did everything to hide it."

Loki circled around in a panic.

Casey looked at him fondly and stopped him, "Loki, you still have some time to think about something, and then Mobius, when he finds out you didn't know, he'll forgive you. I'm sure he will."

Loki thought silently for a few moments and then exclaimed, "I've got it!" and pulling out his tempad, he opened a time door.

As he walked through it, he turned and looked affectionately at Casey, "I never told you this Casey, but I consider you one of my closest friends here. You've always treated me like a normal person and I never thanked you for that. A mistake I want to make good on today. Thank you... my friend." Loki bowed to a stunned Casey before walking through the time door.

At the same time, Frigga was surprised to see her son arrive through a timedoor while she was having dinner. 

Loki rushed to her and exclaimed, " Mother! I need you!"

A few moments later, Loki looked up to see what time it was before he entered the house, and sighed with relief that he was still right on time. When he walked through the door he thought Mobius had not come home because everything was dark. But he saw Mobius' things and was reassured. It was late, so Mobius must have gone to bed alone. 

Loki felt even more sorry. His poor love must have gone to bed thinking that Loki had forgotten his birthday.

He put down his jacket, took off his shoes and went straight to their bedroom. 

"Mobius?" he said softly in case his lover was asleep.

"Mmm." replied the voice muffled by the comforter.

Loki walked over and knelt down near where he thought Mobius' head was. He turned on the light from the bedside lamp and asked softly, "Would you get your head out from under there?"

After a few seconds, Mobius' head popped out from under the comforter and seeing his face Loki took him in his hands and said in an apologetic tone, "Oh my sweet love, I'm so sorry." and he kissed his reddened eyes.

Mobius shook his head, "No, no, I understand that my birthday is not important. I'm not important."

Loki put a finger over his mouth and said in a firm tone, "Don't ever say that again! You are important! You are the most important person in the entire universe for me and you need to know Mobius, I swear I didn't know it was your birthday! Casey told me that very night. How can you think I would forget the day the universe was graced with your presence? The day the love of my life was born."

He hadn't forgotten, he just didn't know.

Mobius let the wave of relief pass through him and his throat tightened, he couldn't stop a tear from flowing. Loki quickly gathered it with his lips before holding him tightly, whispering a litany of words of love and comfort. 

After a few moments, Loki stepped back a little and said, "Mobius...love, I only have a few minutes left before this day ends, so with all my heart, I wish you a happy birthday my love." 

Then he captured Mobius' lips and kissed him tenderly, before moving back again. Looking emotional, he resumed, "Mobius, while realizing that it was your birthday, I became acutely aware of the passage of time and I would like to offer you something special for your first birthday with me."

Mobius, touched that in such a short time, Loki had gone to the trouble of finding him a gift, kissed him on the forehead and said softly, "Thank you."

Loki smiled and said, "Don't thank me until you know what it is."

He took Mobius' hand and slipped something round into it, which felt like an... apple?

Not daring to hope, Mobius looked at what was in his hand and it was indeed an apple, but what struck him was its color, golden. He only knew of one sort of apple which has such a color, and looked up at Loki and asked, "Is this... what I think it is?"

Loki nodded and said with a voice full of emotion, "Mobius, for your birthday, I want to give you an eternity, an eternity with me. An eternity of birthdays together. An eternity of love?"

His eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke and Mobius made no attempt to hide his emotion either. When they kissed, their kiss tasted like their tears. When they caught their breath, Mobius moved back and said playfully, "You know that this sounded like a proposal?"

Loki swallowed then replied, a challenging look on his face, "So what?"

But Mobius knew that behind the challenge, the fear of rejection was there and this time it was he who took Loki's face in his hands and said softly but firmly, « So what? So, I say yes, as long as it is to be with you forever."

They both laughed, joy radiating from their faces.

Then Loki leaned towards Mobius again and whispered against his lips, "Happy birthday my love..." then kissed him tenderly.

Before Mobius was completely swept away by the happiness of this moment, he thought that even if he had started badly, it was probably the best birthday of his life.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Lokius masterlist : here

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 2

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2075

Additional note: In Norway, you are of age at 18.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

"... don't start eating until your brother joins us."

As he pushes himself down the large hallway leading to the kitchen, Ivar can hear Lagertha's assertive voice. He knows exactly who she's talking to and his suspicions are confirmed as soon as he enters the room, as a very displeased and apparently famished Hvitserk looks at him with irritation before letting out a muffled, "it's 'bout time."

"Sorry, I must have dozed off." Shrugging, Ivar wheels up to the kitchen table, the smell of pizza tickling his nostrils. He must be hungrier than he thought.

"You look like Hel." Sigurd sneers in greeting.

Ivar, without bothering to look up, just tilts his head and hisses through clenched teeth, "coming from you, dear brother, I take that as a compliment."

He can feel Lagertha's gaze upon him and when he turns his head toward her, she is staring at him, the worry obvious in her eyes.

"I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that but Sigurd isn't wrong." She crosses the room and leans over, her brow furrowed. "You look exhausted, sweetie, what's going on?"

Ivar almost wants to laugh. He looks exhausted? No kidding? Yeah, guess what? That's what two sleepless nights in a row usually do to you. At least that's what they did to him. What you did to him, haunting his nights and even haunting his dreams, waking him up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the few times he managed to fall asleep. At least, he'd made up his mind early this morning. Hopefully, now that the decision has been made, he'll sleep better. Saturday night, he'll see you again. His heart is racing at the thought and he inhales deeply, trying to calm down.

Unsurprisingly persistent, Lagertha asks again as she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Ivar, are you all right?"

He wishes he could just ignore his stepmom but knows she won't let it rest. Unwilling to admit that he owes his restless nights to a girl - to you - he decides to keep his answer vague. "So-so," he mumbles, slightly rocking his right hand.

"You're in pain? Do you need more meds? I could run to the drugstore really quick."

For once, he doesn't resent Ubbe for his well-meant yet patronizing kindness, nor for the pitying look he gives him. Actually, he silently thanks him for the good diversion. As long as his brothers and Lagertha believe that it's his legs that bother him, keeping him awake, his secret - you - will be safe.

Faking a small, sheepish smile, Ivar shakes his head. "Thanks bro, but that's okay, I have everything I need. Guess I should just double-up the tramadol tonight." He winces for good measure, knowing fully well he won't even need a single dose. The pain in his legs today is barely at four, nothing he can't handle.

Once the meal is almost over – which in plain English means that everyone but Hvitserk has finished eating, but thanks to Lagertha principle 'no one leaves the table until everyone has finished, boys', they're all stuck here – Ivar decides it's time to break the news.

"I'm gonna go to the party."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the kitchen falls quiet. Even Hvitserk stops chewing, putting his last slice of pizza back on his plate.

Not knowing what to do with the silence, and feeling a little awkward, Ivar explains further, a hand on his neck, "the midsummer party, I mean. Harald's party."

"We heard you just fine, sweetie." Lagertha is the first to pull herself together, even though the disbelief is clear in her voice. As Ivar looks up, his brothers are staring at him, slack-jawed, bewildered, probably wondering what's got into their baby brother.

"Let me get this straight." With widened eyes, Ubbe starts running both hands through his hair, "you are considering attending Harald's party, right? That's... That's what you said?"

"Yep." Ivar shrugs as if it was no big deal. Who is he kidding? Of course, it is! Attending the party is a fucking huge deal for him. There's no way in Hel he'll admit it, though. Not in front of his brothers. No fucking way!

"I'm not sure I understand..." Ubbe sounds cautious and it infuriates Ivar to no end.

"What part of 'I'm gonna go to the party' don't you get, brother? Huh? Too many big words for you?" He wants to keep going but when Lagertha clears her throat and gives him a stern look, he faintly raises an apologetic hand while muttering under his breath, "okay, okay, I'll stop."

Heaving a sigh, he shrugs once more. "Seriously, you don't all have to look so surprised. I just want to go to Harald's party. It's really not that big of a deal."

"But you never wanted to, sweetie. Why now?" Lagertha's eyes are wide open and there's a frown on her forehead as she crosses her arms.

"Why not?" Ivar can't help but raise his voice. "I'm sixteen, Lagertha! Thought I was entitled to a change of heart. Was I wrong?" Pointing a finger successively at each of his brothers, his free hand grabs his push rim, his knuckles white. "The three of you attend every year, why shouldn't I?" Looking directly at Lagetha once again, he asks in a clipped voice, "You're not going to tell me I can't go, are you?"

"Of course not, sweet–" She begins but Ubbe cuts her off.

"Listen Ivar, no one is saying you shouldn't go, not yet at least. As a matter of fact, no one would be more pleased than I if you were willing to go out more. Playing pool, going to the movies, or just having drinks, you know you're always welcome to come along with us. But..." Ubbe groans, rubbing his hands over his face and Ivar stiffens, grinding his teeth, "Harald's party, really? It's not going to work. You know it takes place on the beach, it's not exactly wheelchair-friendly."

Reluctantly taking his eyes off his slice of pizza, Hvitserk jumps in. "Ivar is our brother, if he wants to go, we find a way. That's it - I'll carry him."

Positively surprised, a small smile playing on his lips, Ivar thanks his brother with a nod, glad – and relieved too, because two are always better than one, right? – that Hvitserk, as so often, backs him up. Of all his brothers, he's the only one who sees him first as a sixteen-year-old and not as a cripple.

Ubbe is having none of it though. "Hvitserk, just stay out of this, okay?" He's practically shouting, chin up and chest out. "You don't have a say! I'm the oldest, not you! I don't think it's a good idea for Ivar to attend Harald's party, period."

Hvitserk furrows his brow and for a short moment, Ivar thinks his brother is going to fight back but eventually he lowers his gaze, defeated, before shoving the whole slice of pizza into his mouth. Ivar knows all too well that his brother, who's not the most tenacious of them, hates confrontation, especially with Ubbe.

Unlike him, Ivar is always ready to pick up a fight, even when it's not worth it, even when he is wrong. Today, though, it's definitely worth it.

His nostrils flaring, he smashes his fist down on the table, his face crumpled with anger. "Who do you think you are, Ubbe? You may be the oldest, but you're not my father, okay? So please, just do me a favor, brother, and read my lips." His voice dripping with sarcasm, his bottom lips quivering, Ivar is absolutely livid, "You. Don't. Have. A. Say. Period."

Ubbe is about to retort, his hands clenched into fists but Lagertha raises a hand, shutting him up. "Boys, boys, boys!" Glancing at Ubbe and then at Ivar, she shakes her head, not exactly thrilled with their outburst. "Now, calm down, both of you. Ubbe, Ivar is right. You may be his big brother, you may be an adult, but you're not his father. I know you mean well but as Ivar's guardian, I have the final say." Turning her head toward Ivar, she cracks him a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about this later, okay? Just the two of us."

***

Slamming the door shut, Ivar wheels up right next to his bed and, angling his chair just right, transfers over onto his bed before punching the wall, a roar escaping his lips. Big tears of frustration and anger run down his cheeks as Sigurd's words linger in his mind.

He had been surprised when his less-favorite brother had stayed out of the conversation.

He should have known better.

No sooner had Lagertha, Ubbe and Hvitserk left – she to make a phone call, they to join Margrethe – leaving them to tidy up the kitchen, than Sigurd had lashed out at him with harsh words and eyes full of spite.

"You messed up in the head, huh? It's a fucking beach, Ivar, you do realize your front wheels will get stuck in sand, right? Now tell me, little brother, do you really think we are going to carry your crippled ass around all night? Let me tell you, it's not going to happen! There will be so many better ways for us to spend the night. Girls, you know? Lots of them. Am I going to let you embarrass me and ruin my night? No! Not in a million years. And anyway, why do you even want to go? Get real, Ivar, you don't belong there, you just don't. You're a fucking cripple, a freak, an abnormality. No one wants you there. No one wants to see you. The sooner you accept it the better."

He knows Sigurd was intentionally trying to hurt him. And fuck, he did succeed. Ivar had felt so humiliated that it had brought bile to his throat.

At some point, while Sigurd was spitting his venom, Ivar had grabbed the large knife lying on the table and it took all his self-control not to stab his brother. No doubt his shrink would be proud of him.

Now though in his room, and even if he is boiling with anger, the nagging thought that Sigurd had a point, that he wasn't completely wrong, doesn't leave him. And he can see now that, in his own weird way, Ubbe was trying to protect him. By preventing him from going, his big brother wanted to spare him humiliation, pity, and mockery. Hvitserk, of course, had been willing to help, but let's face it, Sigurd once again was right. Piggy-back riding is not really an option anymore, he is too heavy. Plus, if he's being honest, even if it were still possible, it's the last thing he'd want. The mere thought of you seeing him on Ubbe's or Hvitserk's back makes him nauseous. Which puts him back to square one.

The beach is a problem and a huge one. Wheeling in sand is a no-go. It's just fucking impossible. If he doesn't come up with an idea soon, he's not going to be physically able to attend the party. And that's something he doesn't want to consider.

"I need a fucking genius idea!" He speaks out loud, cracking his knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck.

He just wants to see you. Y/N... Just you. And he won't be able to.

Fuck. Fucking sand! Fucking beach! Fucking legs! Fuck– Stop.

Wait.

What... What did he say?

He needs an idea... A genius idea. Genius. That's it.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Good thing he knows an authentic genius, right?

Grabbing his phone, he frantically slides his pointer finger on the screen, sighing with relief as he finds the contact he is looking for.

"Hello, Ivar," the man answers after two rings, and his voice brings an even bigger smile to Ivar's lips, "it's very sweet of you to call me."

"Hello to you too, you spindly legged, knock-kneed old fool. There might be something that you can do for me. I want to attend Harald's party. It'll take place on the beach. My brothers won't carry me and I can't really crawl about, can I? I wonder if you could help me, Floki?"

Ivar's godfather lets out a high-pitched chuckle before answering, "I'll figure something out, dear Ivar, I'll figure something out."

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