#Lulu wc

[artaintfartwarriors]

[eggfeather]

patch and lulu

[lemnnshark]

"Lulu is a pale sandy she-cat with long fur."

[shallowbreeze]

Lulu

Lulu is a pale sandy she-cat with long fur

[letyachan]

124+125.Patch and Lulu

Kits of Violet

"Lulu and Patch have gone to a new home. But we still see them sometimes, and they are very happy. At least I know they are together."

[marmosetpaw]

[jijournal]

THE GREENHOUSE EFFECT | D.M

Summary: When you're paired with Draco Malfoy for Herbology, you expected eye-rolls and dead plants. But, you don’t expect that the most sudden pairings bloom the brightest.

wc: 1.7k+

cw: Hufflepuff!reader x draco. FLUFF! FLUFF! FLUFF!, a very pouty reader who loves and names her plants.

A/N: Alright you got me. I made up some of the plants mentioned cause I got lazy going through all the canon plants in hp. I LOVE LOVE LOVE HUFFLEPUFF!READERS! 💞

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You’d witnessed many botanical tragedies during your years in Hogwarts’ greenhouses—Mandrakes shrieking their way into fainting fits, Puffapods misfiring into clouds of spores, even a Dungbomb incident involving a Fanged Geranium with a grudge and poor aim—but nothing, not even that, prepared you for the quiet devastation that was Draco Malfoy trying to care for magical plants.

“This one’s supposed to be droopy, right?” Draco asked one chilly morning, holding up a miserable-looking Flitterbloom, his face in lost confusion. The plant sagged from his gloved fingers like a limp dishcloth, the edges tinged with black rot, its once vibrant fronds now hanging as though in mourning.

Professor Sprout audibly gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “No, Mr. Malfoy, it most certainly is not supposed to look like that! That poor dear is drowning in water it didn’t ask for!”

You bit down on your smile, valiantly trying not to laugh. You really did try. But the look on Draco’s face—offended, a little baffled, and thoroughly disgusted—was too much. Your shoulders shook with suppressed giggles, and Professor Sprout caught your eye with a hopeful glint.

“Y/N,” she said, a little too sweetly, “would you mind pairing up with Mr. Malfoy for the rest of the term? He could use someone with your… patience.”

You blinked, unsure whether you were being punished or knighted. “You want me to help him?”

“I don’t need help,” Draco snapped, standing straighter.

“You do,” you and Sprout said at the same time, your voices perfectly overlapped. Your eyes met. She looked vindicated. Draco looked betrayed.

And that was how you became Draco Malfoy’s unofficial plant handler.

⸻

You wore flowers like armor. Always. In your hair—violets carefully tucked into your braid, a daisy behind your ear, sprigs of baby's breath pinned like secrets. Your jumpers often had tiny embroidered petals curling down the sleeves or buttons shaped like blooming buds. When people asked, you just smiled like the flowers had chosen you that morning and not the other way around. Flowers were a part of you, just like freckles were a part of others.

“Is there a reason you always dress like a sentient meadow?” Draco asked once, squinting as you buttoned up a coat stitched with little yellow marigolds that seemed to flutter when you moved.

“It’s for luck,” you said serenely, smoothing a daffodil-shaped pin at your collar. “And it makes the plants feel at home.”

He stared like you’d just offered him a slice of moonlight for breakfast. “You think the plants care what you’re wearing?”

You tilted your head, genuinely perplexed. “You don’t?”

The first incident came swiftly. You’d barely begun working together when he attempted to nudge a Puffapod into blooming. One gentle poke was all it needed—delicate, respectful. Draco prodded it like it owed him an explanation, and it exploded in a soft-pink mushroom cloud of pollen.

You stood in stunned silence, covered in fuzz, bits of petal clinging to your braid like confetti. You tried not to pout. You really did. But you ended up cross-legged on the floor, mournfully collecting the petals and whispering soft apologies.

“She just needed patience,” you murmured, fingers brushing the frayed bloom. “A bit of kindness.”

Draco sneezed and looked utterly unconvinced. “It was a plant. Not a therapy client.”

“She had a name,” you said sharply, shooting him a glare. “Lulu.”

He gave you a flat look. “You named the Puffapod?”

You met his gaze with unflinching sincerity. “I would've told you her name if you didn't blow up her sister Lala earlier this year.

He sighed. "yeah... because plants have siblings."

The next week, he crushed a Bubotuber in a moment of casual irritation. One second he was ranting about someone stealing his socks, the next he squeezed the bulb like it had personally offended him. It responded by erupting in a burst of thick, greenish goo. Draco’s shriek of horror echoed off the greenhouse walls.

“You strangled her,” you said disappointed, trying not to frown as you dabbed away goo with a Moondew sprig.

“I barely touched it!”

“You manhandled her like she owed you money.”

“It attacked me!”

“She was terrified.”

He stumbled back, covered in yellow-green sludge. “Of what? My refined bone structure?”

You crouched next to the limp plant, wand raised, murmuring a soft charm. “Of being misunderstood. She’s very shy.”

Draco groaned. “Merlin help me. Not again.”

“She has a name,” you said firmly. “Matilda.”

“Of course she does.”

With a flick of your wand and a quiet word, Matilda shivered back to life, wiggling slightly in your palm. You leaned in and whispered something that made her glow faintly. She’d forgiven him. Barely.

“She’s a menace,” he muttered.

“She’s sensitive,” you corrected, stroking her stem.

Draco stared at you like he was trying to decide if this was some elaborate Hufflepuff prank. You smiled serenely and tucked a fallen blossom behind your ear.

By the fourth week, Draco had managed to offend a Flutterfern, enrage a Shrivelfig, and traumatize a Fanged Geranium into permanent wilt. The final straw came when he took pruning shears to a Venomous Tentacula like he was avenging a personal vendetta. It lashed out in protest, its tendrils flailing before curling in on themselves, whimpering.

You didn’t speak to him for the next twenty minutes.

Instead, you crouched beside the wounded plant, gently gathering its injured tendrils in your hands. You rocked slightly, whispering something ancient and low—more lullaby than incantation. Slowly, the Tentacula calmed. Its color returned in hesitant pulses. One vine curled around your wrist, tentative and grateful.

“You’ve got to be doing this on purpose,” Draco muttered from the other side of the greenhouse. “No one’s that bad at plants unless they’re cursed. Or a Gryffindor.”

You glanced up, your voice dry. “You think I’d hex my own greenhouse just to make you look bad?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “With great pleasure.”

You dusted soil from your cheek with a dramatic flourish. “I’m petty, Malfoy. Not suicidal.”

He eyed you, then your boots. “You’ve got roses on your socks.”

“They’re embroidered,” you replied, lifting your foot slightly to show him. “Climbing roses. Very resilient. A bit clingy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”

You grinned. “Like you.”

His ears turned pink.

The sixth time was different. He didn’t kill the plant. He merely terrified it.

A small Mandrake sat trembling on its roots while Draco hovered uncertainly nearby, brow furrowed, tongue between his teeth in sheer concentration, wondering how the hell did you manage to stop a mandrake from crying. You watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, trying not to interfere.

“If you’re going to loom like that,” Draco muttered, glancing sideways, “you might as well do it yourself.”

“I’m observing,” you said proudly. “You’re improving. That Mandrake hasn’t flinched in at least two minutes.”

“It keeps looking at me.”

“you mean, He. Well, duh he has eyes. Of course he's looking at you.”

“Judgmentally.”

“That’s a compliment,” you said. “He doesn’t usually acknowledge people he dislikes.”

Draco scowled, but the Mandrake remained intact. Which, for him, was practically a miracle. When he wasn’t looking, you snuck the plant a leaf treat. It quivered happily.

Later that afternoon, while you adjusted the angle of a sunlamp for your Asphodel, you sensed Draco stepping beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just hovered—an odd, uncertain weight in the air. Then his voice came, softer than usual.

“You missed a spot.”

You turned, confused, just as he reached out. His thumb brushed a smudge of soil from your cheek, lingering a second too long. You froze.

The world narrowed. You forgot the cold, the damp, the faint buzzing of Pixie-flies overhead. For one suspended breath, it was just you, him, and the inch of air between your faces.

He cleared his throat abruptly and pulled his hand back. “You had… dirt. On your face.”

“Oh.” You touched the spot instinctively. “Thanks.”

He turned away, cheeks faintly pink. You didn’t say anything. Your heart was too loud.

⸻

All term, you’d been tending to a single Moonlily in the corner of Greenhouse Three. Once silver-bright, it had withered into something curled and gray, like it had forgotten what light felt like. Every class, you brought it a fresh blossom, whispered to it like an old friend. “I’m still here,” you told it. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Draco never asked about it. But he noticed. You caught him glancing at it when he thought you weren’t looking. Watching the way you cared.

And then came the last day of term.

Most students had left for the holidays. Snow pressed against the greenhouse windows, and frost dusted the vines in glittering white. You were alone, brushing a light dusting of ice from the soil, when you heard the sound of footsteps.

Draco.

He looked a little windblown, hair tousled, scarf half-untied. In one gloved hand, he held something fragile. Small. Pale.

A pot with a single marigold.

Its stem was crooked. Its petals trembled. But it was alive.

“I, uh… Professor Sprout helped,” he said quickly, almost defensive. “A bit. Mostly she just stopped me from killing it.”

You stared, lips parting. He shifted, awkward.

“It’s not perfect,” he said.

You reached out and took it gently, your fingers brushing his. The flower quivered in your palm like it knew who had grown it.

“It’s exquisite.” you whispered.

His shoulders sagged, some tightness easing in his jaw. “I... It reminded me of you. It's bright and... pretty. Very, pretty.”

You stepped closer.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with something you didn’t dare name. “I love it.”

And then, without thinking, you kissed him.

It was soft, tentative—dirt-smudged noses, cold fingers brushing warm cheeks, and the quiet, sweet hush of something just beginning. He tasted of peppermint tea and the kind of wonder that comes only after you’ve stopped pretending not to care.

Behind you, something stirred.

You turned as the Moonlily—the one you’d nurtured all term—gave a shiver, then slowly unfurled. Its silver petals caught the moonlight and glowed like a promise, blooming with the kind of gentle pride only magic, patience, and love can grow.

Draco stared, wide-eyed. “Was that... because of us?”

You clutched the flower he'd given you to your chest, heart fluttering. “She’s been waiting. I think... she felt it.”

He looked at you, the usual edge in his voice softened into awe. “You’re completely mad.”

You grinned, breathless. “You still think the plants don’t notice?”

And then, for the first time all term, Draco Malfoy laughed—really laughed. It spilled into the greenhouse like sunlight after rain, warm and unexpected.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe they do.”

You reached up and tucked the crooked little flower he’d grown into your braid, letting it nestle behind your ear like it had always belonged there.

“Then they’ve clearly been paying more attention than you have.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[bradleysass]

Visit - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 852

Barty’s phone rang just as he was in the middle of an important task—throwing grapes at Evan from across the kitchen counter to see how many he could land in his coffee mug. The moment he saw Pandora’s name flashing on the screen, he smirked and answered, leaning back against his chair.

"Pandora! To what do I owe the pleasure—"

"Barty, I need you to be on your best behavior when I visit later today."

No greeting. No explanation. Just a demand.

Barty blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Best. Behavior." Her tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Evan snorted, sipping his now grape-infused coffee. "Sounds serious. What’d you do this time?"

"Nothing!" Barty shot back before returning to the phone. "What exactly do you mean by 'best behavior'? Because that’s pretty subjective, and I need some parameters."

"Just… be nice. No swearing. No threats. No crime."

"Well, now you’re just asking for a miracle."

Pandora sighed. "Barty."

"Fine, fine, I’ll be good. But only because I’m curious."

Pandora hung up without another word, and Barty frowned. "What the hell was that about?"

Evan, already resigned to whatever chaos awaited them, merely shrugged. "Guess we’ll find out."

—

A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.

Barty, ever dramatic, swung it open with a flourish. "Pandora, my dearest—oh. Oh."

Standing next to Pandora was a tiny blonde girl, staring up at him with wide, dreamy eyes. Little Luna, clutching a well-loved stuffed rabbit, beamed at him.

"Uncle Barty!"

Barty, the same man who had once gleefully threatened a man over taking the last good parking spot, melted on the spot. "Lulu!"

Evan watched in horror as Barty crouched down, holding his arms open. Luna ran to him, and he scooped her up, spinning her in a circle while she giggled. The sight was nothing short of jarring.

Pandora gave Evan a knowing smirk. "And now you understand."

Barty was speaking in a tone Evan had never heard from him before—soft, gentle, doting. "You’ve gotten taller, kiddo. What’s the verdict? Am I still your favorite?"

Luna nodded solemnly. "Yes, but only if you have cookies."

"I would never disappoint you like that," Barty swore, carrying her inside as if she were royalty. "Evan, fetch the cookies for our esteemed guest."

Evan arched an eyebrow. "Fetch?"

"Evan," Barty whispered harshly, "she’s a baby. I am a man on a mission. Don’t ruin this for me."

Evan sighed but complied, watching as Barty set Luna down and immediately began playing whatever ridiculous game she had in mind. Within minutes, Barty—who normally thrived on chaos and destruction—was helping Luna arrange her stuffed animals in a meticulous tea party setup, pouring imaginary tea and complimenting Mr. Bun-Bun on his exceptional taste in scarves.

Pandora leaned in to Evan. "It’s like watching a wolf raise a lamb, isn’t it?"

Evan shook his head in disbelief. "I’m honestly a little scared."

Luna, perched on Barty’s lap, offered him a tiny plastic teacup. "Uncle Barty, do you take sugar in your tea?"

Barty gasped. "Lulu, you know me so well. Two lumps, please."

Evan was struggling to process the sight of his terrifying, unpredictable boyfriend pretending to sip tea from a plastic cup, nodding seriously as Luna explained the importance of proper tea etiquette. It was, in a word, ridiculous.

But also… kind of adorable.

Barty caught Evan staring. "What?"

Evan smirked. "You’re a menace to society, but put a kid in front of you, and suddenly you’re a girl dad."

Barty huffed. "It’s called range, Evan. Look it up."

Pandora grinned. "I knew you’d behave."

Barty shot her a look before returning his full attention to Luna. "So, Lulu, what’s the plan for today? More tea parties? Perhaps we start a revolution? Overthrow the oppressive toy monarchy?"

Luna clapped her hands. "A revolution!"

Barty gasped. "That’s my girl!"

Evan groaned. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Barty grinned, already pulling a blanket from the couch to fashion into a makeshift royal cape. "Every revolution needs a fearless leader. Luna, you shall be Queen Luna the First, Ruler of Stuffed Animals and Guardian of the Cookie Jar."

Luna giggled, clearly delighted. "And Uncle Barty is my knight!"

Barty nodded solemnly. "At your service, my queen."

Pandora sighed with a fond shake of her head. "I should have known it would escalate."

By the time the so-called revolution was in full swing, the living room had been transformed into a war room. Stuffed animals lined the couch like an army, and Barty, donning a pot as a makeshift helmet, was dramatically recounting the injustices of the evil toy king—a particularly lumpy teddy bear named Sir Fluffington.

"Sir Fluffington has ruled with an iron paw for too long!" Barty declared. "It is time for change!"

Luna, perched atop the couch like a throne, raised her tiny fist. "Down with Sir Fluffington!"

"DOWN WITH SIR FLUFFINGTON!" Barty echoed, fist in the air.

Evan, watching all of this unfold, turned to Pandora. "I can’t believe this is my life."

Pandora just laughed. "At least he’s on his best behavior."

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

Eddie Munson x Reader summer edition.

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant ���Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[lichenes]

Lockjaw

Someone requested Silco x brothel worker!reader (AND I WILL WRITE IT, KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED.) but. I raise you one better. Silco in love with a brothel worker, NOT reciprocated HAHAHAHAAAAAA. I'm going fucking insane. I'm going crazy. The smut is also here... ig... I did a shit ton of research cuz my seasoned writer best friend said it was difficult to get right. Any feedback is appreciated!! CW: reader has a pseudonym (Lulu), porn with plot (AND ANGST HAHAHAHA), SW!reader, eating out (reader receiving), piv briefly mentioned, wear protection kids, fleabag reference - i couldn't help myself. wc: 639 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

Dark drapes. Burgundy carpets. Gold candleholders. You could smell the incense all around you. The cool, night air calmly was circulating and mixing with the warm feeling spreading in your chest. The room was overflowing with prestige and cachet. 

Silco was between your legs as you stared at his beautiful, bicolored eyes. You were toying with his locks as he greedily pleasured you. He couldn’t take his own eyes off of you. He was mesmerised by your squirming body, by your quiet moans and by the way you were just- almost there. 

He detached himself from you, denying you pleasure once more. You whined at the sudden loss but were eager to get even more from him and tonight, he wanted to give you it all. He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down his legs putting the garment neatly on the chair behind him. 

“Hi Lulu!” Said Juliette entering the break room where you were spending your last moments alone for the night. “Hi Julie, how you doin’?” She was in a good mood. “I’m doing okay! I got a massive tip from this one guy, and-” She trailed off saying how glad she was to not have taken a sick day today. You didn’t quite listen. “Lulu? I asked you a question.” You came back to your senses and answered the trivial question she presented you with. 

“So, how long are you staying?” You began answering but she interrupted you. “Oh!” She hit herself lightly on the forehead. “Silco’s coming today right? It’s Wednesday after all.” You nodded. “Looks like you’ve got quite a night in front of you.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by him getting close to your face. He was breathing heavily, yet a certain intimateness was flowing from him today. As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Slight hints of expensive cigars were also there, the taste was intoxicating. 

With his lips still on your own ones, he pushed you back onto the bed and caged you in his arms. He kissed a trail down your neck and chest before he put his hands on your thighs and spread them wider- right to his liking. He pulled back for a second. “You look divine.” 

He entered you with a slight resistance and let you accommodate his size before he started moving. With each encounter he was becoming more gentle. You never mentioned it, you never even noticed it up until now. You were fearing the- worst. 

Your legs were bent at the knees, you were trembling a bit from the intrusion. You were propped up by your elbow watching him enter and exit you. You reminisced about the first time he ever showed up here. Quickly you were pulled away from your thoughts by him burying himself to the hilt. 

“Lulu you were requested.” 

“Lu- oh, Lulu.” Moaned the most powerful man in all of Zaun. 

“I’ve been watching you for quite some time.” 

He emptied himself into the rubber and stayed inside you for a moment more, relishing in the closeness. Closeness he was to lose soon enough.

The break room was empty. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you.” The silence was filled with his confession. “Clients aren’t supposed to be here.” You said, dressed only in a warm robe, keeping you from getting goosebumps. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes becoming dark, darker than any substance ever synthesised, soulless and- subdued.

He hung his head and turned his back to you, his coat in hand as he professed. “What’s keeping you here?” You didn’t answer. “Lulu.” He pleaded. “It’ll pass.” You answered. 

He walked onto the street, rain falling freely from the sky. His messed up hair was becoming wet. “I don't think it will.” He said to no one in particular.

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[crazzzycomet]

Dried Roses

joel miller x fem!reader

summary: Coming up on two years of your parents' tragic passing, you decide to make the move to Austin, Texas, in hopes of a fresh start for you and your three younger siblings. After few months of settling in, a lapse in judgement and a one night stand ends with Joel Miller in your bed.

tags: 18+, au no outbreak, age gap, one night stand, sassy!Joel, mentions of death and grief, porn + plot, idk this chapter just sets everything up, flashbacks of drunk sex, joel loves pushing it

wc: 5.9k

this is chapter 1 of dried roses - there are currently 6 chapters uploaded on ao3 <3

——

“No! She said we’re having waffles today, not eggs and toast.”

“You’re such a brat, Lulu.”

“I’m telling!”

“Who are you gonna tell? She’s not even up yet!”

Shit. Your eyes ping open at that.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, squinting through the film of sleep, trying to make out the small, bright numbers. Thirty minutes passed your usual wake up time. You grumble, rubbing your eyes hard enough to see stars, leaving a residue of black mascara on the base of your palms. 

Your mouth is dry, and the water on your nightstand is empty. Rays of morning sunlight spill through your sheer lace curtains, making you contemplate crawling underneath the covers and dying there. You groan, regretting decision after decision after shot after shot. 

It had been almost two years since your parents had passed, leaving you with guardianship of your three siblings - and just around three months since you’d packed up your entire lives and moved everyone to Austin for a fresh start.

A fresh start.

That’s what you’d told yourself when, Maya, the only coworker you have at the café even remotely around your age, had approached you before closing. She'd invited you to join her and her group of friends at the bar, and you were in absolutely no position to turn down friends.

At least that’s what your younger sister, Romy, told you when you'd asked for her opinion. She'd insisted you go out, and in typical Romy fashion, she was entirely too blunt about it.

“When’s the last time someone asked you to go anywhere with them? Not since mom and dad died, I think,” she had answered for you. “Remember when you were cool? I don’t. Go get laid or something, I don’t know. Whatever will make you less…uptight.”

That was it, you’d decided it was time to finally put yourself out there - at least try to make some friends your own age.

Your hometown friends were nice enough, but apparently not nice enough to come and watch your little brother, Bear, suck at baseball every Saturday, or let Lulu mess up their fresh manicure with glitter pens. 

So you dusted off your little black dress and slathered on some makeup, downed tequila shot after tequila shot after tequila shot, trying to steer clear of the topic of little league and kindergarten playground gossip.

The night was going pretty well, actually. Maya’s friends were welcoming, everyone was gelling, and you’d even gotten a few of their numbers incase they were ever having another girls’ night. Everyone was friendly, and more than a few men had offered to buy you drinks. It made you feel, that for a split second, you were just a normal girl in her twenties. It was nice. 

Then, you saw him. 

He’d been sitting in the corner of the bar, scowling at his friends, or coworkers by the look of their matching shirts that all read Miller Contracting. He’d finally cracked a smile when they all gathered around him, singing a terribly poor rendition of “Happy Birthday”. You think you may have even seen his shoulders bounce with laughter.

There was something about this guy. Something that drew you in.

Maybe it was the way he looked all serious most of the night, crease between his brows and everything, glass of whiskey in hand. Maybe it was his dark brown curls and patchy scruff, peppered with grey. Perhaps it was the fact you’d always been attracted to older men. But if you had to make a real scientifically educated guess, not being laid in just over a billion years might’ve had something to do with the appeal.

Whatever. He was hot, okay?

It was around the fifth time you two had locked eyes that he’d gestured toward the bar, asking silently for you to meet him over there.

Fuck it, you thought - and at some point throughout the night, that became your motto. Especially when you'd decided it would be a great idea to bring him home, despite the infinite list of reasons not to. But, who were you to deny this middle-aged man birthday sex? Right? Right?

A sting of regret fills your eyes with each dry blink and your heartbeat flutters rapidly in your chest, which is always a super fun symptom of your hangovers these days.

Your sheets feel like a haven this morning, cradling you in luxurious warmth that you never want to leave and—God, areyou still naked? You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You cannot get out of bed right now, not with your head pounding like it is. You clamp your eyes shut, waiting for one of your siblings to come and tap at your door with their sticky hands. Why are their hands always so sticky?

Maybe they’ll just let you sleep until you have to drive them to school. Wishful thinking. 

Your mattress groans as you roll lazily to your left side, swearing under your breath while your heart simultaneously sinks down to your stomach when you behold what's in front of you. 

He's still here, lying next to you - the man you'd brought home last night, sleeping peacefully, taking deep, languid breaths beneath your sheets. 

Fuck. 

You freeze, bloodshot eyes wide, willing him to disappear into thin air. 

Who the hell doesn’t sneak back home in the middle of the night after a one-night-stand? Isn’t that, like, the polite thing to do?

You clench your eyes tightly, hoping he’s a figment of your imagination. Opening them with reluctance, you’re met with tanned, broad shoulders, lightly dusted with freckles from the sun, and the back of his curls, loose and sloppy from sleep and sex. It's no wonder your blankets are radiating so much heat - he's the goddamned kindling. 

“I’ll start the waffles,” you hear Romy sleepily croak, muffled through your bedroom door, “go wake her up, Bear. She probably forgot to set her alarm again.”

You gasp. A deep, genuine plea for air. 

Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

You would be so dead if your parents weren’t.

You begin assessing your situation. You have about two minutes before Bear snaps out of whatever book he's reading, and actually comes to wake you. That is, if Lulu doesn’t get to you first. In that case, you have about twenty seconds.

“Lulu, no.” Romy snaps her fingers like she’s scolding a puppy. “Go get your homework and put it in your backpack. Sissy told me that Ms. Diaz said you’re missing two days worth. You're in kindergarten, Lu, how are you missing homework when it's all cutting and pasting?”

“But-" 

“Go,” Romy rasps.

The pattering tiny jelly sandals, and a squeaky whine from the five-year-old echoes through the crack under your door. You can almost see the way Lulu lets her head hang in shame when she’s caught. Her long, wavy hair in front of her face while her cheeks pink up.

Okay. You have two minutes then.

Your eyes snap back to the man in your bed. He’s dead asleep, each breath deep and slow. He smells like your perfume mixed with cedar and the whiskey that spearheaded this whole situation. His skin looks so soft against your plush, white sheets. He looks calm. 

Fine. You'll be nice and let him sleep. You can only hope that he’s at least smart enough to not come out of the room while you’re dealing with the monsters beyond your bedroom door.

Slowly and carefully, you roll over, wriggling free of your tangled bedding, hoping that - was his name Joe? No, Joel. Joel - hoping that Joel isn’t a light sleeper.

No such luck. You look back, jaw clenched tight like a jaguar, and there’s pair of sleepy brown eyes staring back at you.

“Good morn-“

You all but pounce on him, placing your hand over his mouth. His eyes widen at your legs sprawled over his middle, and they grow even wider when he hears tiny voices coming from the kitchen, coupled with the clanking of a whisk in a plastic bowl.

“Shhh." You retract your hand from his mouth and place your finger to your lips.

“Bearrrrr!” Lulu’s whines could literally be echolocated by the bats inhabiting South America. “Romy said to wake her up!”

“I’m going! Just lemme finish this paragraph!”

“But, she needs to look over my homework and she needs to fix my hair and-“

“Jesus, Lulu, just let him finish. Come grab the first waffle and I’ll do your hair later.”

“Is that-“ Joel tries before your hand is back to concealing his mouth in an instant.

“What’d I just say,” you whisper harshly.

He raises his hands in defeat. Since when were his hands so big? 

His sleep-worn eyes trail down your body, the lines around them creasing as a smile breaks beneath your hand. You follow his eye-line, realizing you’re still completely naked, bare chest fully on display.

“Perv.” You cover your breasts with your free arm. Your cheeks flush as you feel him smile wider into the palm of your hand. “Not funny.” You grab his jaw. "Wait here."

He nods. You sloppily race out of bed, looking for anything to cover your body. The sound of chair legs scraping against the oakwood floors echoes, and itty-bitty footsteps begin thrumming toward your bedroom door.

Why the hell did you insist on having the room closest to the kitchen?

A tiny knock at your door has Joel pulling the sheets up to his nose. You gesture at him to keep still, shifting your attention to the door and the little shadow underneath it.

You spot the forest green flannel Joel was wearing last night, slung over top of your dresser in the haste of what you can only remember in hazy blurbs of Joel's tongue and hands tracing over your perfumed skin. You grab it without thought, and begin buttoning with rapidity. 

Another little knock.

“Baby Bear?” you pant, Joel’s flannel now fastened enough to cover your chest. It’s hem uneven, thanks to your crack buttoning skills, hanging a few inches below your ass, covering you just barely.

“Can I come in?” 

You reach into your underwear drawer, grabbing the first pair your hand touches and stepping into them while Joel watches intently. Grinning like he’s watching his favorite TV show.

“How ‘bout I come out,” you offer.

You hear a giggle through the chestnut-stained door. “'Kay. Lulu wouldn’t let me have eggs and toast.”

“Eggs and toast tomorrow it is, then. I’ll be out in a sec, alright? Go eat.”

There’s that giggle again, followed by thudding steps back into the kitchen, shouts of celebration about eggs and toast tomorrow, and groans from Lulu.

You look over at Joel, who's holding in a laugh.

Wait here, you mouth, and he nods again, this time with a wink. The bastard.

You wipe the mascara that's made a home beneath your eyes. Joel sinks back into your bed, pulling a pillow over his head. Your hair’s a rat's nest, but the claw clip you trip over on your way out will fix that.

You open the door and slip out, loosing a breath at the sight of Bear swinging his legs, sat atop a barstool pushed close to the kitchen island. He’s shoveling a syrup-covered piece of waffle with one hand, and tracing along the words of some book about rainforests with the other. Lulu sat next to him, focused on getting syrup onto every square-inch of her waffle. Both wholly unaware of the middle aged man you're hiding in your bedroom. 

“Ah,” you sing as you walk by Bear, smoothing his cowlick down as you make your way around the counter, “Romy made you guys waffles, huh? Heard Lulu put up quite a fight for these.”

“Wasn’t equipped to argue with her today,” Romy says, filling the waffle maker with a sloppy pour.

 You nudge her with your hip.“I can take over so you can get ready.”

“Thanks.” She hands over the ladle and wipes her hands on her pajama pants.

“Thanks for picking up my slack."

“Yep,” she sighs, wiping the flour that made its way to her elbow. “Fun night?”

Your heart skips, but your face remains stoic as you clean the loose batter that seeps through the sides of the waffle maker. 

You ignore her question. “Thanks for covering for me here last night. I’ll give you my tips after my shift today.” 

“Happy to help.” Her eyes pull toward your bedroom door and snap back at you. “Both of you,” she says quietly, smiling like a maniac.

“Excuse me?” you lower your voice, your brows following suit. Your face is a bit more scrunched than you’d like.

“You never close your bedroom door in the morning. And under your eyes turns a specific shade of purple when you’ve been up all night.”

“You’re insane.” There’s no use in lying to Romy, she’s too damned perceptive for her own good, but you decide it’s worth a shot.

"Also, I heard you talking to someone when you walked in last night at-" she checks an imaginary watch "-two in the morning." 

"I was on the phone. What are you doing awake at two?" you deflect, and not well, based on the look she's giving you. 

“Should I go ask him if he wants a waffle?”

“Romy!” You wack her on the arm.

“Ow!” 

“No one’s in there,” you lie again, fully aware of the fact that it’s not working.

“Fine. I’m just saying, I’m not stupid,” she grumbles. “It’s alright if there's a guy, just wake up earlier next time. Lulu spins out when you’re not up.”

“Noted."

"Good." 

"Jesus, Ro, you're a mess." You dust away the flour on the neckline of pajama top. It’s got a giant rainbow trout across the chest, and it spills over her knees. "Is this Dad’s shirt?” 

“Uh - yeah, I found it at the bottom of his drawer before the move." Before you can comment, she looks you up and down, raising one brow. “And whose flannel is that?”

“Dad’s,” you snap.

“Mm. Yeah. Dad never wore flannels.”

“Well - he wore this one,” you try to sell your third lie of the morning while she rolls her eyes. You grab her by the shoulders, turning her away and giving her gentle a shove. "Don't you have to get ready? Go away." 

She starts up the stairs. “Tell him I say 'hi' and that he’s got nice taste in flannels!”

“Shut up!” you shout into the void.

“Ms. Diaz says we’re not supposed to say shut up,” Lulu says, smacking on her last few bites of waffle.

“Shut up, Lu. Finish your breakfast,” you say flatly, fixing yourself a plate.

The morning is pretty standard, as far as mornings have gone in the last two years. Romy gets ready in her room. Bear and Lulu’s homework gets checked by you, while Bear spits out facts about some frog he's learned about in some encyclopedia he’s picked up from the library that week. You pretend to be extremely interested, all while Lulu insists on you doing her hair over Romy, because 'she pulls too hard'.

Everything’s done with about fifteen minutes to spare. Except this time, there’s a stranger in your bed. A stranger who patiently awaits your instruction.

He’s probably fast asleep, you’d kept telling yourself while your morning tasks seemed to take a lifetime. Each plait of Lulu’s french-braid found it’s place in slow-motion, and Bear’s droning on about the strawberry poison dart frog appeared infinite as you tapped your foot through it all, listening for any signs of stirring behind your bedroom door.

“Everyone get in the car. I need pants,” you say, handing the keys to Romy. Finally - fucking finally, this morning was almost over. Almost. 

You bolt to your room about a millisecond after the front door clicks shut behind them. He’s probably asleep, you repeat to yourself, taking a deep breath before you turn the knob.

You open your door slowly, revealing a man sitting up on the edge of the bed, fully dressed (minus a green flannel), complete with a smug little grin plastered on his face.

Your eyes lock on one another. You lean your back against the wall, loosing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in all morning.

“Y’alright?” he asks. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a winded laugh, placing your head in your hands. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Busy mornin’?”

“What do you think?” You begin surveying your room for a clean pair of jeans or sweats or anything that can cover your legs.

“I’m thinkin’ so,” he chuckles.  You quickly find a pair of jeans and slip one leg in, pausing to look up at the man on your bed. His curls are tousled and his scruff seems thicker than it was 8 hours ago.

“You said you were -“

“Twenty-five,” you say, fighting with your zipper.

“S’right. Twenty-five.” He places his hand on the back of his neck and rubs a knot that’s probably been there for just as long. “Twenty-five,” he repeats.

“Isn’t gonna make me any older the more you say it.”

He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re being a smart ass. That, or he doesn’t care. Either way, you see his wheels turning and you know what he’s about to ask. You wish people didn’t always have to ask.

“Twenty-five ‘n - how many voices were there? Three?”

You look down, attempting to fix the buttons on your stolen flannel. 

“Um, yeah. Three.”

“Any of them-“

“Mine? No,” you interrupt. “They’re my siblings. Fifteen, seven, and five.”

Before he has time to ask any more questions you start again.

“Hey listen - I really gotta go. My sister’s already suspicious, so um, if you could let yourself out after we take off - like, without stealing anything - I’d really appreciate it.”

Your tactic fails.

“Your parents?”

“Out of town,” you say quickly, trying to avoid the inevitable condolences from someone you're never going to see again.

Technically it's true, they are out of town - just buried 6 feet further down than you’d prefer.

“You can leave the door unlocked,” you continue before he can ask more questions. “I’ll be back soon. I have to get ready for my shift.” It dawns on you that you may have made this poor man late for work. “Oh shit, are you - do you have to be anywhere right now?”

He shakes his head and peeks at his watch. “Not ‘til ‘bout nine.”

“Okay, good.” You know he’s lying. He glances at his watch every second he thinks you're not looking. “Alright so,” you clap your hands together, “I guess just don’t steal anything - and leave right after you hear me leave. Okay?”

He leans back, placing his palms on the bed.

“You always this - twitchy?”

Your brows scrunch. “What?”

“You heard me. You always this keyed up? Or was last night just a fluke?”

“Only when there’s a strange man in my bed who won’t stop asking me questions.” You cross your arms. 

“So you always let strange men into your bed?” His brows raise, brown eyes twinkling at you like a goddamn puppy. “Or am I just special?”

“You always fuck someone twenty years younger than you? Or am I just special?"

His brows lower. That shut him up. Finally. Now you can- 

“Only when they beg for it.”

Oh.

Oh this fucking guy. Now you remember this fucking guy.

"I did not beg for it." Your ears feel like they're going to melt off. 

"Didn't beg for it," he repeats. "Must be misrememberin' things, then." 

"You are." 

He chuffs. 

“Okay, then. I have to go," your voice falters. “Sorry again for all of this, and - um - don’t steal anything.”

“You said that already, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Fuck off.

“Then don’t do it.” You glower.

He just laughs to himself, like he's trying his hardest not to push it.

“Looks good on you by the way,” he says, still leaning back on his palms. His biceps flexed under his faded black tee. 

“I - huh?”

“My flannel.” He points. “Well, your daddy’s flannel - 'f that's what ya wanna call it. Works either way, I s'pose."

Your eyes shift between his. He gives you a fox-like grin. You could slap him right now, if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself from blushing over the fact that he'd definitely heard everything beyond your bedroom door this morning. 

“I don't have time for this,” you swear under your breath, tripping your way through your cesspool of a room. 

“Had fun with ya last night,” you hear him say while you’ve got one foot out the door.

Your limbs freeze.

“Yeah - um. Me too.” You peer back into the room. “Nice meeting you, uh -“

Oh fuck, how did you already forget his name? You just had it an hour ago. It started with a G. No, a J. Juh. Juh. Juh- 

“C’mon, darlin’. Had you screamin’ it last night, ’n ya already forgot?”

Alright, fuck this guy.

“Guess it just wasn’t that memorable.” 

“Bullshit,” he huffs a laugh. “The mouth on you, girl."

Your nose scrunches with a vindictive grin.

“It’s Joel,” he says. “Joel Miller.”

“I was getting there."

“Didn’t want you hurtin’ that pretty little head thinkin’ too hard.” He winks. “Nice meetin’ you too, darlin’.”

“Alright, Joel-“

He interrupts to say your name back. Just to make your stomach swirl. Just to show you he remembers. 

“Leaving now," you say, heartbeat drumming in your ears. 

“We’ll see,” he says. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning.

“Bye, Joel Miller. Happy birthday,” you say on your way out.

Good riddance.

————

Miraculously, you get all three kids to school on time. You speed home, hoping you’ll have more than five minutes to shower this time, and maybe more than that to actually put on some makeup before your shift at Sweet Pea's Café - a charming little mom-and-pop restaurant that you'd applied to a few weeks after the move. 

The door’s creak is the only sound that fills the house when you enter, followed by your strained, “Hello?”

No response.

Nothing greets back, save for the smell of freshly brewed coffee and maple syrup, stuck for life onto the plates that the kids forgot to rinse after breakfast. Except, you don’t remember making any coffee this morning. In fact, you haven’t used the drip coffee maker since before you’d moved.

It belonged to your dad, and you had only saved it because the counter would look completely off-kilter if Dad’s coffee maker weren’t here taking up some space - like the heart of the house would be missing. So there it sat, unused, untouched, and cloaked in a gummy layer of coffee grounds-past.

You saunter into the kitchen, and for a split second you expect to find your dad, sipping entirely too loudly from his under-washed, borderline unusable coffee mug.

And maybe the thought would’ve lasted longer if you weren’t met with the pile of dishes you had to do, and to the right of those, a note.

Words written on a piece of torn printer paper, its ends curled up like ribbon, lying next to the half-full coffee maker.

You pick it up:

Tried my hardest not steal anything, but you left a perfectly good waffle out on the counter. Couldn’t have a waffle without some coffee, so I stole some of that too. Try not to be too mad, the coffee tasted like shit, so now we're even. Also, the roses in the windowsill could use some water. Or a trashcan. Joel

You let a smile slip before you can catch yourself. You turn the note over :

If you want to yell at me for all the stealing.

His phone number follows, written neatly underneath. 

A freshly washed plate, mug, and fork sit lonely on the dish-rack, which makes you smile even wider.

Your eyes flit up toward the windowsill above the sink, where the dried roses are sitting. Restfully. Gathered together, bound in a transparent green vase. Their color drained out from stem to petal - the way marrow dries up in the bones of a corpse. Stiff, hollow, and lifeless.

Nothing like the smile on your mom’s face the day your dad brought home that same bouquet of red roses. The kind of red so deep, it makes you feel something. You hadn’t seen her so giddy before, the way her smile lines creased so sweetly and her eyes beamed. She sang quietly to herself while she trimmed the stems and filled the vase with water, arranging the blooms perfectly. 

You clench your teeth, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat as you ball Joel’s note into your fist and throw it into the garbage.

————

Friday finally comes, and you’re thanking whatever the hell created the universe after the way this week dragged. Each day felt agonizingly long; even work at the café was eerily slow. Helping the kids with school projects. One customer popping in here and there.

It was the definition of mundane, and it didn’t exactly leave you with much to do besides think. Think about your night with Joel and that stupid note he left. Fantasize about his calloused hands on your bare skin. He had infiltrated the walls inside your mind like a fucking termite who was immune to extermination.

That night was gnawing at your brain. That morning was gnawing at your brain. Joel Miller was gnawing at your brain. The way he'd made you laugh at the bar, the moans he’d drawn out of you in your own sheets, the phone number he’d written out just for you. It was relentless. Sickening, even.

It didn’t help your case once you had begun to string together piece after piece of that drunken night you two shared. You’d get flashes of it in the shower, in bed at night, and it even begun invading your mind at work. His sweat-soaked skin against yours. His low drawl sending chills up your spine while he whispered against your ear. The way he felt inside of you and told you how pretty you looked, ‘takin’ it like a good girl’.

It all ended the same way - with your hand between your legs the moment you were left alone in your bedroom.

Sleep had evaded you night after night, and instead, had you lying in bed and staring at the ceiling - willing yourself to keep still, rather than going to search for Joel’s note at the bottom of the garbage can, sodden and sticky with syrup and grape-jellied crusts from Bear’s sandwiches.

Times like that - when the gnawing was so incessant you thought you might scream - you’d think of a list of reasons why it would be a monumentally bad idea to go dumpster diving for that stupid fucking phone number. The list you’d come up with was logically sound, and painstakingly long. You’d repeat it to yourself over and over and over to lull yourself to sleep.

Toward the top of your imaginary list, the age gap between the two of you danced in your head like a tragic ballet. This must've been a lapse in judgement for him. Maybe a mid-life crisis or something he had to get out of his system. 

The kids were the most glaringly obvious con on the list. They rely on you fully, and they don't need you getting distracted by whatever having Joel's number saved in your phone would entail. You hadn't even told him the kids were under your legal guardianship, and if you did, who's to say he wouldn't run for the hills like everyone else.

On Wednesday night, you’d concluded that you couldn’t have been the first woman Joel had left a note for, anyways. There was absolutely no scenario in which there weren’t other women he’d gone home with - maybe even your age - that hadn't found a slip of paper with his number written on it the next morning. Who are you to think that you're special enough to be the only one? Who are you to think that he’d been waiting impatiently for you to call?  He's not making a list. He’d forgotten all about you by now.

But sometimes, you’d fail to catch the thoughts that wandered too fast and far, unable to squash the fantasy of it all. The asinine daydream where you were the only one, having allowed yourself to keep his note in your back pocket and call him whenever you wanted. Whenever you were ready. A world in which you could sleep with a man the night before, and not have to keep him hidden like a secret in your room; or not having to treat any semblance of a chance at a relationship with a man like a mushy, over-ripe, banana - tossing it out before it has the chance to rot in front of the kids. 

This particular Friday afternoon, though, your mind had finally quieted. It was as if the night you’d shared with Joel threw the ecosystem in your brain off balance - changed the pH of the soil, and the temperature of the climate. The repeated list of reasons not to reach out had been the controlled burn you’d needed to silence the flashbacks and fantasies. Finally, you could breathe. 

You were finishing up your afternoon shift when you felt a buzzing coming from your apron pocket. You fish out your phone, a silly contact picture lighting up the screen with each vibration.

Romy.

“Ro? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” you whisper from behind the cash register.

“I just needed to ask something real quick?"

“Yeah?”

“Before you say no, my homework’s already finished - I did it in fourth period - and my room is clean and -“

“What d’you want?”

“There’s this girl, Sarah - she switched into my AP Bio like two Wednesdays ago - anyway, we’ve been hanging out at lunch too and sometimes even in the library - “

“Spit it out, babe,” you snort.

“She asked if I could sleep over at her house tonight. So I was wondering...”

“Of course you can go.”

“Really?” she squeals.

“Yeah, Ro. You’ve been helping me out a lot since the move. Maybe too much, actually. You deserve it. Plus you have, like, zero friends by my count.”

“Shut up,” she chides. “Thank you. I can’t wait to tell her. She said her dad was gonna get the pool all ready for us and everything!”

“Jealous,” you say, mindlessly skimming a customer’s receipt. “I have to meet her parents first, though. You know the drill.”

“I know, I know. But it’s just...parent. Just her dad.”

“Okay, whatever,” you sigh, half listening. A lady with rosy cheeks and a button nose meanders over to read the menu above your head. You flash her a plastic smile, saying into the other line, “Gotta go,” before hanging up the call to ring up a blueberry muffin and an iced chai.

————

You pick the kids up from school after your shift, and Romy wastes no time in packing an overnight bag the second you all get home. You freshen yourself up, changing into jeans and a comfy sweater, wiping the work day and coffee grounds off your skin. It’s nerve-wracking to meet the parents of any of your siblings’ friends, because they're one: always so much older and more put together than you - and two: always surprised to see a sister in lieu of a mom. It was always jarring for other people, and for some reason, however understandable, it bothers you.

“You ready?” you ask, clasping your hands together - Romy excitedly pacing in the kitchen with a backpack full of pjs and toiletries waiting for your go-ahead. 

You try to swallow your dread as Romy whirls around with a huge smile. She hasn’t been this giddy in months. She was finally acting like a teenager, and you can’t recall the last time she’d been able to be one. She’s practically beaming.

This will be good for her, you think. She could use a friend. 

You all pile into the car and Romy types the address into your phone.

“Oh,” she says, handing it back to you, “it’s only three blocks away.”

“Well maybe if this goes well, you could walk there next time,” you bat her on the shoulder and she squats you away. 

It takes all of about two minutes to get there, pulling your car beside the curb. Romy’s excitement is palpable, even making you feel a little nervous.

“Don’t embarrass me,” she says with a wince, throwing her backpack around her shoulder.

“You don’t embarrass me,” you assert.

You leave the car running with the two little ones in the back, urging them not to touch anything. You throw an arm around Romy as you walk up the drive and make your way up the front porch. She takes a deep breath before she nods in your direction, prompting you to knock on the door.

*Knock knock knock*

“Is that my hair clip?” Romy asks with a tone. 

“Huh?” You feel the back of your head, where the clip holds your hair in place. “I don’t know. I just grabbed it out of my bathroom.”

“It’s mine.” You both turn and face each other, ripping your arm from her shoulder. “Why do you always steal my stuff?”

If you had a dollar for every time Romy picked a fight when she's nervous about something...

“Steal your stuff? Isn’t that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“You gave it to me, idiot!”

“I don’t remember giving it to you. Why would I give something to someone that won’t even let me borrow a fucking hair clip?” You whisper harshly.

“I would, if you would just ask like a normal fucking human!” Her features pinch tightly.

“Oh my god," you scoff. "You’re so annoying - I’m glad I’m getting rid of you tonight. Maybe I'll get lucky and Sarah’s dad will offer to adopt you.”

“Good! Maybe he won’t steal all my shit and pretend like it’s his," she mutters angrily. 

“Romy,” you say through your teeth, “watch your fucking mouth before-“

Someone clears their throat in front of you, the smell of cedar and coffee wafting out toward you two. It grabs both of your attention, whirling your heads back to the door in front of you - except now it’s open, a man broad enough to block the entrance staring back at both of you.

Your stomach plummets down to your ass.

No- further.

Not because this guy definitely just overheard you cussing out your little sister. Not even because Romy specifically asked you not to embarrass her - which you'd undoubtedly just done. 

No. None of that mattered right now.

Not when the hand propping open the door was the same one that had been wrapped around your neck Sunday night. Staring back at you are the same brown eyes that he made you look at while he talked you through your climax. And a familiar mouth - one that already knows the taste of your cunt - twisted in that same sardonic grin he'd donned Monday morning.

Joel fucking Miller.

--

ao3 link: crazycomet 💫

this is my first fic + my first post on tumblr lmfao hi everyone i hope you enjoyed

[lightning-wyvern]

ok hoe i will can u do like a not-slow not-fast burn fireplace style ending in smut with nerdy neurospicy paleontologist lulu

im not sure this ended up fireplace style it kinda feels more house fire

~ perfect specimen

luigi mangione x trans male reader | fluff, suggestive, smutty smut cw benchmark fuck (rough drunk floor sex), transmasc reader w/ fem privates, sexual language, alcohol consumption, extensive physical contact, kissing, possessive marking (biting), no pull-out, pet names, lowkey implied size kink, deliberate overuse of the word "baby," luigi very clearly has a fetish for you

wc 2,475

(open) luigi taglist @glitteryslothhhh @poohkie90 @born444u dm me to be added or removed!

conservative red voters + luigi haters do not interact; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, sexual / 21+ content ahead

"no way, dude, the osmolskae was discovered in mongolia!" you argued strongly, "they found it in china."

"no it fucking wasn't, stupid," luigi shot back, shoving your shoulder, "you're burning off my brain cells, m/n. the velociraptor osmolskae was discovered in china. the mongoliensis was from mongolia... MONGOLIENSIS... yeah?"

luigi exhaled angrily through his nose, leaning back on the palms of his hands and shooting a half-ass glare at you as he mentally tried to control the audhd urge to argue himself stupid over his special interest, dromaeosaurids.

"where am i confusing the two specimens, luigi?"

luigi sighed leavily, rubbing his fingers against his temples. he reached over to his right and picked up a large, half-empty glass bottle of benchmark bourbon whiskey and took a couple gulps of the maple syrup-colored drink. he passed you the bottle and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his maroon sweater.

"babe, the velociraptor mongoliensis was discovered in 1923 in the djadochta formation, which is in mongolia. the velociraptor osmolskae was NAMED in 2008, after a specimen of it that was thought to be a mongoliensis specimen was given a closer look at in 2008 and was found to be a different genus of velociraptor due to differences between the specimens' skulls, hence the velociraptor osmalskae. the osmalskae was found in the bayan mandahu formation, in china."

you scrunched up your nose and eyebrows, giving your boyfriend a furious, skeptical look. you turned and snatched up your notes, quickly scanning through them until you reach the page you'd dedicated to this particular subject, and lo and behold...

luigi was right.

" velociraptor(s) ; similarities/differences essay notes

velociraptor osmalskae: found in bayan mandahu formation, inner mongolia, china velociraptor mongoliensis:

you groaned and tossed your notebook down on top of your homework, tossing yourself backward onto the cushions luigi had arranged on the floor for this little study date. you pouted, closing your eyes to hide yourself from the annoying smug look you knew was plastered all over luigi's face.

but then-

"wait-"

you sat up and looked again.

bayan mandahu formation, inner mongolia, china.

"aha!" you gloated, "you weren't right or wrong, ha! both of the different velociraptors were found in mongolia, they were just discovered in different areas of the territory."

"what?! lemme see that-" luigi scooted up next to you and looked over your shoulder at your notes on the subject.

"ha." you said simply.

"m/n, mongolia is in china."

"yeah...? and?"

"aaaaaaannnnd, you told me five minutes ago that the mongoliensis was found in the bayan formation. the osmalskae was the bayan mandahu specimen, m/n. the mongoliensis was found in the djadochta formation."

"which is where-??" you ask flatly, giving him a dirty look.

"mongolia."

"exactly."

"they were both found in mongolia."

"exactly."

luigi groaned, flopping onto his back.

"m/n, you got the formations wrong, not the fucking country."

you glared at him for about 60 seconds straight, then returned huffily to your former position on the cushions. you lay there acting like a baby for long enough that luigi soon became fed up with your behavior. he crawled silently towards you until he was directly over top of you. he slowly lay down on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours.

you let your hands slide up luigi's waist to the small of his back, sliding underneath his shirt. luigi did the same, holding you firmly by your waist and rolling over onto his back so that you were lying on his chest. luigi slid his big, warm hands up your body underneath your shirt, which hooked on his wrists and slid up your body. he let his hands continue up your back when your shirt got stuck on his arms. he wrapped his fingers around your shoulders and squeezed gently a few times before his hands wandered back down to rest on your waist and the small of your back.

"i love your back, baby," he said quietly into your mouth, "it's so pretty... you're so pretty. you're hot, you're handsome."

you giggled, breaking the kiss and burying your face in luigi's chest.

"lu, stoppp..." you whine, a bright red blush spreading across your face when a grin plastered luigi's face that was so big that you felt it.

"never." he growled, "get naked, pretty thing, i taste like fuckin' benchmark 'n' i wanna do nasty shit to you."

you groaned hotly, rolling off his chest and sitting up. you pulled your shirt over your head a little too quickly, messing up your hair as it left contact with your body. you then undid your belt and leaned back, kicking your jeans off and reaching over and tossing them across the room, where they joined luigi's shirt that had been tossed across the room seconds before.

now clad only in your boxers, you get up and pounce on luigi, your weight forcing him to the ground. he grabbed you as your chest made contact with his, tangling his fingers into your hair. you let a horny growl out into luigi's mouth, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him onto his back on the floor. you crawled on top of him and straddled his waist, groaning and letting your head fall back onto your shoulders as luigi's big hands slid up your now completely exposed body.

"m/n." luigi grumbled, his voice low and husky.

"yeah, lu?" you asked, looking down at him.

"take your fuckin' bra an' boxers off, fumante, i said naked," luigi hissed, "y' don't gotta be shy with me, baby."

when you noticed the tone of luigi's voice, your guts twisted in the most oddly pleasant manner; you complied without complaint. you pulled your boxers off, tossing them across the room to join the rest of you and luigi's clothes. a growl escaped your throat when you felt luigi's hands squeeze your ass. he grinned, moving his hands up to your shoulders and pulling you down towards his face, until your lips made contact with his.

you moaned into luigi's mouth, kind of just... melting into his arms- and luigi could feel this happening. luigi used the short time slot you moaning had given him to slip his tongue into your mouth. his right hand tangled into your hair and he tugged at it a little, eliciting another hungry moan. luigi hugs you tight, holding you as close as he could physically have you. you moaned into his mouth again, your hands wandering up and down his body, his touch quickly overwhelming your brain with hot fog.

"m/n," luigi growled into your mouth, "roll over, yeah?"

you nodded.

"good boy. y'know what kinda position i like, yeah?"

you nodded again, your guts starting to feel hot with anticipation. you rolled off of luigi's chest, pulling luigi with you. he settled himself between your legs, immediately having to take some remarkably deep breaths in order to keep himself even remotely composed when he lays eyes on the sight you lay out for him, just as he had told you to.

and that was when he realized it:

you were completely obedient, you would do any filthy, lewd thing luigi could think of, all he had to do was ask.

the grin on luigi's face turned carnal; animalistic. he squeezed your ass again, then your waist, then moved to your thighs. he slid his hands up your thighs, squeezing and massaging them possessively. luigi turns his head and drags his tongue up from your v-line to the center of your throat, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark and grinning when he felt you squirming underneath him... just from him touching you; he hadn't even fucked you yet.

luigi stood up, firmly grabbing your waist with both hands and pulling you back with him until you were on his lap on the couch. he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you; it wasn't hot and messy this time, but it was still steamy. he pulled you close, moving his lips slowly, passionately against yours.

"luigi..." you whined quietly, shifting in his lap.

"yeah, baby?" he replied, talking against your lips. his hands moved down to squeeze your ass again.

"i-i need..." your face turned red and you trailed off, biting your lip and hiding your face in luigi's shoulder.

"what, m/n?" luigi said quietly into your ear, "need your boyfriend to touch you a little? need someone else to do it?"

you nodded feverishly, biting your lip and burrowing your face further into luigi's shoulder. luigi chuckled, grabbing your chin and gently but firmly forcing you to look at him.

"aw don't be shy, kitten, i'll take care of you." luigi smiled, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, which made you smile too. luigi's smile turned into a grin in response to this; he couldn't help himself. he loved your eyes, your body, your smile, your laugh...

luigi loved everything about you. fuck, he loved you. luigi was in love with you, and he knew it. he really hoped you did too.

"y'wanna be on top?" he asked, pulling your face towards his and touching your foreheads together, "or should i take control tonight?"

"you take the reins tonight, i'm tired..." you pouted. luigi smiled.

"yes sir, mr. m/n mangione sir," luigi snarked. your face turned bright red and your eyes went wider than dinner plates, and luigi grinned.

"luigi, what-" you started, but luigi cut you off with his mouth. he wrapped his arms around you and flipped you over onto your back on the couch. you felt something small rear its head in you; you grinned and shoved luigi off you, both of you falling apart laughing immediately in response to the loud thud that shook the couch as luigi fell onto the floor. luigi reached up onto the couch and hit the cushions blindly, looking for your arm. you scooted into his reach and he grabbed your arm, pulling you down onto his chest.

"but luigi-" you pouted.

"but what?"

"but couch seeeex..." you whined.

"hmmm... nnnnnnnnno." luigi stated flatly, "i'd rather fuck you stupid on the floor in front of your homework."

"jeez, babe," you complain, trying not to laugh, "i'm not that nerdy!!"

"m/n," luigi slurred, the night's whiskey starting to accent his words, "m/n, yes you are. you're the biggest fucking nerd i've ever met."

"says the fucking computer major," you snapped back, "luigi, didn't you like... didn't you make a video game..."

"no, but i play video games..."

"sure, among us."

"shut up, m/n."

luigi grabbed your waist and rolled over on top of you, pinning you to the floor. his hands slid up your body, squeezing your tits and making you squirm and moan quietly. his left hand stayed where it was, while his right wandered down your body towards your core. your heart started racing, and you squirmed more underneath him, getting impatient.

you grabbed luigi's hand, moving it further downward to where you wanted it. luigi grinned, smashing his lips onto yours as he slid his middle finger into your cunt, curling them in a manner that made your eyes roll up into your skull, a fucked, needy groan crawling out of your throat. he slid in another digit, then another, wrapping his free arm around your waist from your back and pulling you closer to his legs.

"y're makin' me so hard, baby," luigi growled, touching his forehead to yours. he pulled his fingers out of your cunt without any warning, dragging another whiny noise of protest from you which was, of course, ignored. instead luigi readjusted his legs, grabbing your hips.

"scoot, m'love," he demanded, and you complied, scooting until your ass touched his knees. he lifted your lower half up by the waist, easily holding you up with one arm, and lining himself up at your entrance. he pressed his lips to yours again, but not roughly this time. he slowly pushed himself in, eating up every little whimper you gave in response to the sudden stretch. once he was fully sheathed, he lay down on top of you, once again pinning you to the floor. his hands slid down your body again, squeezing your ass and thighs before pulling your legs up around his waist. then he hugged you again, nuzzling into your neck and leaving little butterfly kisses all over your neck and jaw in an effort to calm your nerves a little.

"lu-luigi," you whined, "please..."

"what, kitten?" luigi purred into your ear, "what d'you need?"

"fuck, lu, move, please..."

luigi grinned, growling into your ear as he obliged to your request. luigi buried his face in your neck, dragging his tongue across your skin and leaving kisses and light bite marks as he slowly started to move his hips. he put his big hands on your waist and bit down a little harder on your neck, targeting a spot he knew was sensitive.

"y're bein' such a good boy f'me baby," he purred, the words punctuated by a low, husky moan. he pulled your legs up around his waist and quickened his pace. you hid your face in his neck and moaned loudly, hugging luigi with every ounce of strength you had.

"harder-" you whispered, "please luigi, harder."

luigi gladly obliged.

he hooked one arm around you, underneath your pelvis, and lifted you up in order to be able to fuck you better. luigi moved his hips with relentless skill that anyone with a clear, functioning brain would question. but you didn't have one of those; unfortunately, yours was foggy and severely malfunctioning. his movements were getting uneven, though; he was getting close. he could tell you were too, your face was getting red and your chest had been heaving for about two minutes now.

luigi slid a hand down your front, kneading the flesh of your stomach and putting slight pressure on it. his brain immediately started to fry when he felt himself fucking you; how did he never notice how big he was?? he felt you shaking underneath him and his brain shut off completely; he didn't even have the strength to pull out. he hugged you as tight as he could and fucked himself into you as deep as he could go, the stinging scratches your fingers left across his back and shoulders constantly driving him further to rail you, his perfect lover, as far into oblivion as he could.

the rest of the night just kind of melted together: your body melding with his, the feeling of his touch, the taste of his lips; neither of you noticed when the sex ended. the only part of the night that was remembered vividly?

both of the known velociraptor specimens were found in mongolia. they were just found in different formations.

© uraharasfavoriteexperiment.

[bbrissonn]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which luke realizes he's fallen for his brother's best friend's little sister

warnings: not proofread

disclaimer: english is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. also, this is a work of fictions, this doesn't reflect how these boys act in real life :)

pairing: luke hughes x zegras!reader

wc: 2.06k

previous masterlist next

-LATE NOVEMBER ‘22-

Luke let out a soft grunt as his body hit his mattress, his energy drained from their two games on Friday and Saturday night, which they had both won. So, the seniors had decided a party was to take place on Sunday, from sun up to sun down, something the Hughes boys hated. 

He wasn’t a big partyer, sure he liked going out every once in a while, drink a little here and there, but big scene with a bunch of strangers, drunk strangers wasn’t somethign he enjoyed. He tried to find some positive to the day he just had, but he couldn’t find any. He hadn’t even drank half a beer, having to make sure his friends didn’t do anything that would get them in trouble. 

He was more than ready to call it a day and end to bed, he had successfully put all of his roommates to sleep, meaning there was nothing stopping him from falling asleep. He quickly changed into something more comfortable before hiding under his blanket, checking his phone one last time. Just as he was about to put his phone down, a notification came in. 

He groaned a bit before checking it, hoping it wasn’t one of the freshman asking him to come help them back to their dorms, or anything important really. Instead, he was meet with a text from you, a short and simple one. 

y/n/n

hey lulu, you seemed a bit stressed tonight and i didn’t want to bother you, hope duker wasn’t too much of a hassle to put to bed. just wanted to say you played amazing this weekend :) 

sleep well, you deserve it <3

The youngest Hughes couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as his fingers moved across his phone screen, his index hovering over the send button, wondering if this was a good idea or not. 

lulu 

hi y/n/n, surprisingly duker was the easiest to put to bed, can’t say the same for eddy though… thank you, and i will especially after today. i know you have an early class tomorrow, but maybe we could get lunch after? on me

The boy didn’t understand why he felt nervous when he sent the text, the two of you get lunch together pretty much every single week, this wouldn’t be any different. So why was he feeling the way he was? 

y/n/n 

i’d love to! only if i get to pick the place though

lulu 

when have i not let you pick the place? 

y/n/n 

never because you’re a smart man :D

lulu 

exactly, night y/n/n

y/n/n 

night lulu, see you tomorrow xx

And there it was again, that weird little feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he had been feeling way too many times in past week whenever he’d talk to you. Luke truly didn’t understand what that feeling was, or why it appeared every time you were around or when you would text or call him, but he loved it. He was addicted to it. 

The same feeling came back the next morning as he saw you walking towards his car, talking with one of your friends that was in your class. A smile creeped it’s way onto his face as you bid your goodbyes to your friend before joining Luke in his car, sending him a wide smile. 

“Hey, Lu.” You said as you buckled up, the boy’s eyes never leaving your figure until your eyes met his. 

“Hi.” He whispered with a smile before snapping back to his normal self, turning the car on and driving off towards your favourite place to eat lunch in the area. It was a small little cafe, one you wouldn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for one of your friends working there. Said friend had brought back a leftover chicken wrap she had as dinner one night, and you grew obsessed with them. 

“You know me so well, Hughes.” You mumbled with a wide grin as he pulled into a parking spot, chuckling a bit at your expression. 

“It’s not like you pretty much force me to eat here every week.” The boy answered, his tone light and teasing making you roll your eyes with a smile. 

“Shut up.” You told him before getting out of the car and making your way into the place, Luke following closely behind you. 

A couple of minutes later, your food arrived, it wasn’t noon yet, meaning there was barely anyone inside, something you loved because it meant your food would arrive quicker. You then started telling Luke about what had happened in your life during the weekend, barely ever letting the boy speak, but he didn’t mind. The sound of your voice was something he loved, the way you would invest into your storytelling leaving him in awn. 

Once again, that feeling in the pit of his stomach came back as your laugh echoed in his ears, your beautiful smile staring at him as all your attention was focused on him, and him only. You were quite the talkative person, always finding a group of people at a party to talk the night away, much like your older brother, and Luke was total opposite, choosing to stay with his teammates at every party. So, whenever your full attention was on him, it made him feel so special. 

He was the only that mattered to you in this moment, your whole mind and spirit were only thinking about him. Just like you had his whole attention, you always did. Whenever the two of you were in the same room, you were all Luke could think about, always letting his eyes drift towards you, finding you easily even in a crowded room. 

“Luke? Luke, are you listening?” He heard your voice ask making him blink a couple of times. Your eyes were looking into his with such worry, he loved it. 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m listening.” He answered, his voice low as he scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat slightly. Thankfully, you didn’t ask anymore questions, instead continuing your story, Luke letting out a quick sigh when you did. He relaxed in his seat, paying full attention to what you were saying, realization settling into him. 

He was in deep shit. 

~

“What’s up with you?” Ethan asked later that night as all the sophomores were sitting in the couches in their living room, Luke quiet than he usually was. The question made the other three boys look over at the youngest one in the room, a slight red colour appearing on Luke’s cheeks. 

“Nothing.” He answered, trying his best to ignore the looks his best friends were giving him. 

“Bullshit.” Dylan called out, pausing the hockey game that was currently playing on their TV, none of them paying attention to it anymore. Luke bit his lips for a moment, debating wether he should tell them about his new found feelings for you, or stay quiet. Knowing his best friends, especially Duker, Trevor would find out in probably less than a week, so option two it was. 

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” He mumbled, Mackie rolling his eyes at his answer. 

“Boo hoo, whore. Tell us.” The boy said, making the other three chuckle slightly, but nodding their heads at the same time. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” Luke started, his friends laughing between them, only making the youngest one angry. “I am serious! You can’t tell another soul about this, or I will murder all of you.” 

“We won’t, chill.” Mark said, the others nodding along with him. Luke took a large sip of his beer, his roommates all watching him until he spoke again. 

“I think I am in love with Y/N/N.” The boy admitted out loud for the first time, and gosh did it feel weird. He was in love with his brother’s best friend’s little sister. He knew Jack probably wouldn’t have a problem with them dating, but Trevor, yeah that would be another story. 

“You just realized?” The other New Jersey pick laughed, the others boys doing the same. A tint of red grew on Luke’s cheeks again, this one darker and more noticeable than before. 

“I think you’re the last one to realize that, buddy.” 

“You just realized?” 

“It’s like the more obvious thing, Hughesy.” They all teased, not making the boy in question feel any better than he already did. He just put himself in the worst position possible, the memory of Trevor introducing you to him, clearly stating that you were off limits to the boy and to never get any ideas. Of course back then, Luke just shrugged it off, after all he was fourteen, the last thing he was thinking about was a relationship, but now, now it was totally different. 

He wanted you, needed you, to be his. He’d do anything for you, if it meant you could be his forever, something he had never felt before. He’s had a couple of girlfriends and flings in the past, but this was a new feeling, stronger than he’s ever felt before. But he could never tell you about this, never, it would ruin your friendship, Trevor would hate him, then Jack and Trevor’s friendship would be all messed up because of it, and it’d all be because of his. He couldn’t. 

“So, when are you gonna tell her?” Dylan asked from besides him, bring the boy out of his thought. Luke furred his brow slightly before answering the Duke boy. 

“Never. It’d ruin everything.” He explained, scoffs being heard in the living room. 

“Trust me, Lukey, if you were to call her right now and ask her on a date, she’d say yes. The girl’s like head over heels for you, it’s so obvious it hurts.” Mackie said, everyone else agreeing with him. 

“Z would kill me, than Jack’s gonna get pissed at me, too risky.” 

“God, you’re the biggest idiot out there.” Dylan mumbled before pressing play on the remote, the sound of the commentators being the only noise in the room. 

Luke didn’t pay attention to the rest of the game, his whole mind being focused on you. What were you doing at this moment? Were you thinking about him like he was thinking about you? Would you go on a date with him? Did you love him the same way he loved you? Or were you in the arms of another boy? Having a girls night with your friends, him being the last thing on his mind? He needed to know. 

The Hughes boy left the living right before the third period started, his finger hovering over your contact. He shouldn’t. But he did it anyways, the sound of the phone ringing soon echoing in his ear as he bit his nails nervously. Only for him to be met with the sound of your voicemail, crushing his spirit a little. He tried his best not to let it bother him, instead deciding to watch a show, when he received a text only a minute later. 

y/n/n

hi lulu, it’s sibling night, i’ll call you when we’re done facetiming :)) 

A sigh of relief left his mouth, monday nights were always siblings night, how he could he forget that. They started back when Trevor left for the NTDP, at first it would be you, Griffin and Ava all together, and then eventually you were all in different places over the country. You had made it very clear to Luke that no plans could ever be made on Monday nights because of it. 

The boy felt a lot more at ease now, relaxing in his bed as his show played. And the moment he heard his ringtone and your contact popping up on his phone, a wide smile grew on his face. He sat up in his bed, clearing his throat slightly before answering the call. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi, you. What’s up?” You asked, the sound of your voice only making the boy smile even more. 

“I just, uh… Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asked starighforeward, bitting his lips after, scared of your answer. You stayed quiet for a while, making the boy even more nervous than he already was. 

“I’d love to, Lu.”

[fairykazu]

ice skating ft. childe, ayaka & amber

cws: dating: childe & ayaka, est. relationship: amber, fluff, mild cursing, implied fem bodied reader for ayaka and amber, wc for each: 1.7k, 3.3k, 1.5k

mlist | based on headcanons

childe

if you had told your past self that you're going on a date with the infamous sweetheart, ajax, you would be thinking you were going crazy. maybe even a tad delusional. but here you are sitting down on one of the wooden benches as childe helped you lace up your skates. "name, is this too uncomfortable?" he scooted back letting you wiggle your foot.

"no, it's as snug as a bug!" you replied, watching him have a sigh of relief. "okay, let me lace up the other one. is it too tight or is it okay like this one?" he pointed at the already-laced shoe.

"it's fine! are we able to be on the ice now?" you asked. ajax looked at the rink, walked to the ice and pretended to pull out a detective magnifying glass, before confirming a 'yes'. he likes to call himself the ice inspector because he was considered the best of doing so. or at least that's what his parents had told him. when he was little.

you guys were finally on the ice. unlike the girl in blue skating on the ice like she was born to and dancing so gracefully, you were like bambi. childe was teaching you to push on the other sides like a zig zag and as you were attempting just that. you lost your balance and fell on the ice. it hurts like hell but hey at least you have ice under you. "that was not as 'easy' as you made it sound, ajax." you huffed out, dramatically crossing your arms.

childe tried not to laugh as he took off his scarf and wrapped around you, you were snug again. "don't be so butthurt. it's easier for me because i grew up with it. take my hand and i'll guide you through it, okay?" he offered his hand to you, and you took it just before you two ended up interwinted on the ice. childe couldn't just help but laugh just a little bit and you joined in too.

"let's skate for real this time."

"agreed."

---

ayaka

you giggled with glee when you called your friends for a debriefing session as soon as possible. it was morning at the cat's tail with kaeya and nilou. "guys, i have a date with THE kamisato ayaka." you said, sipping your coffee. nilou gasped as kaeya rolled his eyes,

"did you really or did you have another dream again?"

"NO. it's for real this time, kae! kamisato and i. on an ice-skating date. this afternoom." you replied smugly. of course, it gets oddly silent whenever you say something big to your friends which only means one thing. they are second guessing you.... again.

nilou quirked a brow, "ice skating?" you hummed in confirmation, "yes, lulu, ice skating!" she stirred her hot chocolate with a stick as kaeya sipped his orange juice loudly, drawing your attention to him, "name, do you even know how to ice skate? last time we ice skated together, you hit the crevice of the rink, fell to your face and cried."

"in my defense, i was four when that happened. annnd yes, i do know how." nilou and kaeya shared a knowing look together before looking at you. "okay, i don't! but i kinda sort of lied to ayaka and said i do have experience with it..."

"oh my god." kaeya said with desperation as nilou pinched her nose bridge. "what if i ball it and she would never know."

nilou replied, "miss kamisato is really talented in that field, name. she would definitely know."

"for real?"

"yes."

--

it was noon, you still don't know how to skate, and you don't know how to tell ayaka that you were lying to her. thank god, the rink was inside a building instead of being outside. in a corner you saw a ginger offering his hand to his date, giggling, and you pray to have a moment like that with ayaka. across from that couple was ayaka, dressed in baby blues and whites, skating gracefully like a princess. you glanced at her in awe, she is so pretty. the word 'pretty' couldn't describe ayaka as her beauty can be like the fresh snow or something. you aren't really a person with good words but gosh, ayaka is so pretty.

you called out her name as she was twirlling on the ice, she stopped with a clean finished, specks of ice flew off her white ice skates. she saw you and smiled, skating her way near the rink, "hello, name, are you ready?"

"not quite, um, can you help me with my shoes?" you asked as she nodded. "it would be my pleasure." she opened the gate and walked with you to one of the benches stationed outside of the rink. you opened your bag and realized, you forgot kaeya's your shoes! ayaka noticed you looked lost while looking in your bag, "did you not bring your own shoes, or did you forget since you had have skated before?"

shit, you forgot you lied that you were the better ice skater than kaeya even though it was the opposite. "um, i forgot, i haven't skated in a while and my skates were pretty old and tarnished-" you started to whisper, "-because kaeya keeps stealing it."

she chuckled, "really?"

"really."

--

after ayaka helped you lace up your shoes, it was time to shine. but also known as, time to ball and hope ayaka doesn't notice. however, little did you know that ayaka already knew you didn't skate. especially when kaeya was one of her ice-skating buddies in the club. it didn't matter though since she was finally able to have a date with you despite your obliviousness to her advances.

amber

when amber said, "i know a place.", you didn't expect her to bring you into an excluded place in dragonspine that wasn't overran by abyss mages and other mobs. it was cold for sure, and you weren't sure how amber wasn't cold in her mini skirt. the evergreen trees were reaching for the skies and there was even a rock shaped like hearts. amber picked it up and said, this is us. you laughed and agreed.

once you guys ended up at the right place, a frozen over pond about 2 times bigger than the ponds you had seen in mondstadt. she pulled you into a hug and then told you a disclaimer, "by the way, babe, there is a teensy minor chance the lake might crack so if it is, i'll sacrifice my life for you. but seriously if it does crack, yell my name and we'll go the cat cafe and get coffee instead."

you exhaled a laugh, "okay, amber."

"awesome! now since that's said and done, let's party! but first, we need to have safety." she pulled out of her tote bag, knee pads, a helmet, another helmet, leg warmers and most importantly, pocket hand warmers. "wait, you know how to skate right? not in a kamisato ayaka or eula lawrence way but in a way where it's average but not too little like klee."

"yes, i promise you that i'm experienced in this."

"okay! we don't need the helmet then, i'll wear mine because it's baron bunny inspired, see?" she showed off the red helment with bunny ears. you nodded to gesture "yes, i do see it."

you and your girlfriend went off to skate and thankfully, no cracks in sight. it became a yearly tradition to go this specific place together.

[fundmydeathowo]

emilute - college au - human au

sorry it took me so long

wc: 472

----

she really didn't mean too, honest, Emily didn't mean to blow up at her sister but she's just so sick and tired of being treated like a child! she was in college! there was no reason for Sera to continue to treat Emily like this, absolutely none! 

so yes, emily did storm off, no she didn't regret it. not for one minute, Sera needed to understand that Emily wasn't a child anymore. that it wasn't 'mature older sister Sera and happy bubbly younger sister Emily!', Emily was a adult! and she needed Sera to understand that but Sera never listens to her!

as Emily sat on a bench, picking at the hem of her baby blue skirt, the irony, a girl walked up to her. the girl had platinum blonde hair with two gray strips of hair, she wore a black jacket with a ac/dc shirt and cargo pants. a completely different look to Emily's dark brown hair that fades into a light blue, a white sweater with a baby blue and white skirt.

when Emily looked up at the girl she felt heat creep into her face, of course she looks sad and pathetic when a super pretty girl comes up to her! curse her horrible luck!

"hey you good? I've seen you picking at your skirt for the past 15 fucking minutes"

the girl had a nice voice, it was clear and cold, like rain. Emily decided she really liked the sound of the girls voice.

"uhm! I got into a fight with my big sister..."

Emily mumbled the last few words of her sentence, her eyes trained on the floor. Emily then heard the pretty girl snort, covering her mouth trying to not let the laughter out.

"I'm so fucking –pfft– sorry,,it's just –snort– I got into a fight with my older brother"

the pretty girl spoke, moving her hand from her mouth to her pocket, pulling out her phone she quickly typed something in before showing the screen to Emily.

"let's go get something to eat from here, my friend says their burgers fucking slam"

Emily quickly nodded her head, standing up

"sure! I'd love too...uh...."

the girl face-palmed, inhaling heavily

"I totally forgot to tell you my name, I'm lute"

Emily smiled brightly at lute, finally happy to have a name for the very pretty face

"I'm Emily! you can call me whatever you like!"

lute raised an eyebrow

"then can I call you em?"

Emily quickly nodded her head

"of course! can I call you lulu?"

Emily watched as lutes face turned into a bright red, turning away from Emily

"sure, whatever, I don't fucking care"

Emily smiled brightly at lute, nodding her head

"okay lulu! let's go!"

lute felt a smile pop onto her face, nodding her head

"sure em, let's go"

--------

also posted on: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54397492/chapters/137788504

and:

https://www.quotev.com/story/16415383/for-Tumblrcom

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

A Very Midwest Emo Yuletide

I didn't intend on posting this on Christmas, but here we are! Oh and hi @alwaysjustmina I believe I promised you this...

Found-family Yuletide meal, set in the Midwest Emo Ghouls AU. Mountain and Swiss are hosting the annual Yuletide meal and everyone's invited, even a special guest from New York...

Some Ghroup Yuletide meal found family fluff, not at all inspired by my uni-reunion-christmas-meal last weekend.

Rating: General wc: ~ 1600

Read below the cut or on AO3!

For the Midwest Emo AU, when there's multiple career hcs on the tag I chose my favorite, likewise sorry for any Britishisms. I’m saying this has the same “US-UK-hodgepodge" vibes as Sex Education did on Netflix...

“Give me a hand, Mount!” called Swiss, as he dragged a freshly-felled fir tree through the door. As always he’d left it to the last minute and, as always, he’d overestimated the size of tree they could realistically fit inside their low-ceilinged farmhouse on the edge of town.

Mountain chuffed in amusement, drying his hands on his apron, before helping Swiss bully the tree into a somewhat-upright position in the corner, into the holder he had made many years previously.

“Fewer squirrels still living in it this year then, Snapdragon?” Mountain laughed over his shoulder, bustling back to the kitchen end of the large room.

“I can’t promise!” Swiss paused to re-tie his boots, before grabbing a bucket and heading back out the door to dig up the root vegetables he had held back specially for their Yuletide feast. Almost everyone was coming this year, and they were sure to be hungry.

“Where are we on the schedule then Mounty?” asked Aurora, her rolled-up sleeves the only part of her not dusted in flour or icing of some kind. She bent down to glare at the cake she had in the oven, daring it not to rise.

“We’re making good time Ror, the Turkey’s ready to go in as soon as your cake is finished, I’ll make pigs-in-blankets later, then it’s just potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and sprouts as soon as Swiss is done. Have you heard how the girls are getting on this morning?”

“Lulu says Cirrus filled the car with bottles last night so we’re good for drinks, and she already made a Yule log and a plum pudding yesterday, and a trifle this morning!”

“Everything’s going to plan then. I hope Dew’s given Rain time to prepare everything they’re bringing…”

Across town, Rain was indeed pushed for time, thanks to his rather stressed husbands buzzing around his head all morning. He was incredibly grateful he’d made the stuffing and cranberry sauce the night before; he was running behind finishing his nut roast, and hadn’t even started on the cauliflower cheese yet. Dewdrop was panicking about his upcoming Yuletide sermon, a yearly occurrence (both the panicking and the sermon), and Phantom had somehow managed to lose all of the craft materials he needed for the youth club event he was running at the church with Sunshine.

When their doorbell rang, immediately followed by several loud knocks signalling Sunny’s characteristic impatience, Rain had breathed a sign of relief. She had whisked Phant away for the day, reminding him that she had all the construction paper and glitter, and promising to be at Swiss and Mountain’s on time for the meal later. Rain was glad she was driving, last year he’d still been vacuuming glitter out of his car in April. Sunny taught pre-K at the local school, and since the school term had already ended, she and Phantom were running an extended youth group session for the children and kits who’s parents had to work today. She had been over at the youth pastor’s house several nights this week already, trying to teach him how to make pipe-cleaner Yule goats.

Now just Dew remained, and Rain was splitting his time between packing his nut roast into a pan, and reassuring Dew that yes, his sermon’s message was clear, no it wasn’t boring, yes he would still love him if it went badly, and no he’s not fed up with him talking about it, and nor is Phantom. Eventually, he stuffed a wooden spoon into his hand, and told him to get stirring the cheese sauce while the cauliflower steamed.

Back at the farmhouse, Aurora’s cake was cooling on the side and the turkey was in the oven. Swiss had returned with enough vegetables to feed a small army which he was busy washing and chopping to roast with honey from his bees later. Mountain and Aurora were hurriedly decorating the tree, hanging almost a decade’s worth of decorations made and gifted to them by Mountain and Swiss’ scout troop. Cirrus and Cumulus were due to arrive any minute, and the hosts wanted their home to feel suitably festive before they put them to work helping to finish dinner.

“Ding dong!” trilled a voice entering through the open kitchen door. Cumulus bustled in, arms laden with goodies. “Cir’s just backing the car up.”

“Hey Lus, good to see you!” Swiss moved to pull her into a hug, remembering at the last minute to put down the large knife he was holding first.

“Lulu! My dessert queen!” squealed Aurora as she ran back into the kitchen, her socked feet sliding on the flagstone floor. She narrowly avoided toppling into Cirrus, bags clinking with bottles that no doubt promised a good time once they returned from church that evening. “Oh, hi Riri, did you bring the lavender syrup from the bar?”

“Let her breathe first, Petal.” Mountain also re-entered the kitchen, and laid one of his large and gentle hands on Aurora’s shoulder.

“Hello Rory, everyone, happy Yule!” setting the bags gently on the floor, Cirrus deftly extracted a small purple bottle from one of them. “Lavender syrup, m’lady”.

“Amazing, thanks Cir! Lu, will you help me taste the frosting for my cake? I don’t want to add too much lavender, I can’t feed Mist soap cake!”

Biting back a smile, Cumulus let herself be dragged over to the still cooling cake, and the bowl of frosting waiting next to it. Aurora and Her Yule Cake had been a much discussed topic all week: Aurora’s not-at-all-subtle crush on Mist, the ghoulette who owned the town’s small record shop, was not as secret as she may have hoped. After their last run-in at the coffee shop Rory worked in, during which Mist had briefly mentioned that her favourite cake was an Earl-Grey and lavender concoction she’d had in her art student days, Aurora had been obsessed with the idea of making it for their Yule celebration. Mist wasn’t due to arrive until later in the day, as she lodged in Zephyr’s spare room and had promised them and Omega a lift out to the farm straight after they finished work at the local GP surgery.

Mountain pottered back over to check on the turkey, and hummed in satisfaction at what he saw. He began loading Cumulus’ desserts into the fridge, before pulling out sausages and bacon to assemble Phantom’s favourite Yuletide trimming.

The next to arrive were Rain and Dew, both looking somewhat frazzled, arms loaded with foil-covered trays. Separately and silently, the pair dumped their offerings on the counter before beelining for the fridge for a drink to de-stress. Mountain snickered and shook his head at them fondly, before putting Rain’s nut roast into the oven and removing the turkey to rest. There was a reason Rain, Dew and Phantom never hosted Yule, after all.

Phantom and Sunny showed up a while later, both with hair full of glitter and even some in Phantom’s eyebrow. The children and kits from the youth church group had made them their annual Yuletide decorations, which they hung on the tree with Cirrus. Phantom proudly showed off his best attempt yet at a Yule goat to Dew, the horns almost even this time.

Last to arrive, as expected, were Omega, Zephyr and Mist, Omega still loosening his festive tie as he walked in the door and trading it with Swiss for a beer. Aurora was very glad she had changed her flour-dusted outfit after her baking escapades: Mist had clearly put in effort, her short shock of icy platinum hair meticulously styled to look effortless. As she laid a cool hand on Aurora’s arm, wishing her a happy Yuletide in her low, soft voice, Aurora had blushed almost as red as the sequins on her dress.

Eventually, Swiss managed to wrangle everybody into a mis-match of seats around the table, and Mountain led the charge of serving up the food. In a flurry of plates, side-dishes and serving spoons, everybody soon had a plate piled high with their annual Yuletide feast.

Just as Mountain was taking the final seat, there was a knock at the door. While the others shared confused glances, Mountain and Swiss exchanged a knowing look.

“Get the door would you Dew? You’re closest.” asked Swiss.

Dew huffed and rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. He moved to the door, throwing it open to meet a pair of warm, violet eyes above a soft and almost sheepish grin.

“Aether!” he had all-but shrieked, throwing himself into the larger ghoul’s chest with such force he almost pushed him straight back out the door.

“Hey there Firefly, Happy Yule.” Aether brought large arms up to encircle Dew in a hug, slowly walking them far enough into the house to close the door.

“Glad you made it Aeth!” Swiss smiled, clapping him on the shoulder as he pulled another chair up to the table, squeezing it in between his and Dew’s.

“Just in time too!” Mountain placed a hastily filled extra plate of food in front of the new chair, and leaned over a still-attached Dewdrop to gently knock horns with Aether. Aether deposited Dew back into his seat before taking his own, exchanging greetings with the other ghouls, both old friends and newer.

After a very merry Yule feast, but before stuffing themselves further with dessert and cake – or getting lost to Cirrus’ lethal cocktails – they piled into a selection of cars to head to church, all of Dew’s nerves forgotten in the excitement of Aether’s return.