rollsroyceabudhabi

[jedi-bird]

Slow progress. Finally built the outdoor tool storage. It's not in the place I want, but we need to redo the seal around the house on the other side of the patio first. So in order to get the giant box and the fertilizers out of the house, I just set it up temporarily where it is. Sadly, since our patio is not level, the doors won't stay shut on their own. I'm going to need to get a lock and probably some waterproof caulking to seal the seams (they're definitely not made as well as the ones my grandma and I set up at her house years ago). On the plus side I have several small plastic containers who's lids have broken over the years that will fit in it perfectly to hold smaller tools and the bonsai wire.

[starrystevie]

steve's desperate, okay?

he's officially running late for his first date with linda because he couldn't find his car keys and the shirt he wanted to wear just wasn't working so he had to grab something out of his hamper and throw it on blindly which then messed up his hair and he almost forgot to brush his teeth again but remembered as he opened the front door and-

he only realizes he forgot to put on cologne once he makes it halfway to her house and smells himself. the shirt from the hamper smells stale, not bad, just stale. and steve in his normal, non-rushed state wouldn't have noticed because his trusty calvin klein would have covered it up but today is apparently not a day for things to go right.

with a sigh of frustration, steve pulls into the hook's drugstore a little too quickly and it makes his stomach lurch the tiniest bit before sliding into an open parking sport at the front door. he rushes in, pushing the door open with too much force and books it to the fragrance aisle.

"this is so fucking stupid," he mutters to himself, unable to be heard by any surrounding shoppers over the annoyingly loud jingle playing through the speakers.

steve skids to halt in front of the cologne section, crouching down and scanning quickly over the tester bottles for obsession. once he spots the amber bottle, he yanks it towards himself, spraying as much as he can onto his chest given the awkward angle he's at. as he stands back up, steve pulls his shirt collar up towards his nose and the ball of nerves in his stomach loosens at the familiar smell. he may be late but he feels like he's back in the game.

checking his watch, he sees just how late he is and makes a beeline for the door, nearly running into an older lady with far too many rolls of toilet paper in her tiny arms. as he dodges around her and extends his arm to push open the door, he hears a loud voice over the intercom.

"you're not going to buy anything after stealing cologne?"

steve stops, freezes where he is and frantically turns his head around to spot the cashier grinning at him. he has long hair and a bright red hook's drugstore vest over a denim vest which doesn't look very comfortable. he has chains in his jeans and handcuffs holding his belt closed and a smirk that is trying to kill him and oh-

"wait, stealing cologne?" steve shakes himself back into existence as the old lady pushes by him without dropping a single roll on the way back to her car. "you're going to call me putting on a few sprays stealing?"

the cashier's smile just gets bigger, like a cat hunting down a canary. steve's never felt like a canary before but can't deny that it's an exciting feeling.

"well, on a good day i wouldn't. but i'm bored and you didn't buy a single thing so technically, yes. you're stealing, pretty boy."

steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and put his hands on his hips, so instead he crosses them over his chest, cologne wafting up from the movement and reminding him that he doesn't have time for this no matter how cute the cashier may be.

he makes his way over to the counter, grabs a pack of gum and slams it on the counter. without breaking eye contact with eddie, as his nametag suggests, he throws him a salty smile of his own and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket.

eddie's eyes are a deep brown with a glimmer of something behind them and his hands are covered in rings making his fingers look long and strong. the jeans he has on are ripped on one of the the thighs, showing a hint of a tattoo to match the ones crawling up his arms. steve's no stranger to thinking men are attractive but this guy? he's on a new level. his heart thumps painfully in his chest when eddie's grin grows larger as he watches steve give him a once over. it thumps even harder when eddie gives him a once over of his own.

the clock above the register shows that he's officially 20 minutes late to picking up... laura? lisa?

no, linda. damnit.

eddie looks down at the gum and then back up at steve, quirking up an eyebrow. "i hardly think this monetarily equates to a bottle of cologne but-"

"oh come on!" steve huffs. eddie laughs and it's clear and bright, ringing off the cinderblock walls louder than the annoying jingle that's still playing. whatever fight steve may have had left in him drains away at the sound and suddenly he isn't thinking about the clock anymore. he feels his shoulders fall down to a more relaxed state, feels himself shift his weight on his feet to look more natural than ready to run at a moments notice.

"just kidding, man." eddie rings up the gum quickly and hands it back to steve. "sorry, you looked like you were in a rush. i shouldn't have created a scene just because i'm bored."

steve chuckles. "i'm already supremely late for my date so what's another five minutes. especially if it gets me..." he looks at the gum packet to look at what he even picked up in the first place. "... spearmint freshen-up gum."

"well there you go," eddie says, grin smaller than before, "a perfect thing to get for a date. everyone likes their date to be minty fresh for that first kiss."

it strikes somewhere in steve that he isn't expecting. the beemer is still out in the parking lot running so he didn't have to waste time, his watch on his wrist feels heavy, the scent of obsession overpowering. but he can't make himself move. he wants to stay and talk to eddie, wants to learn about what makes him tick.

"can i borrow your phone?" steve asks. eddie's eyebrows furrow but he reaches for the store phone and places the console on top of the counter.

"for what?"

steve look through his wallet, finding the piece of paper with linda's number on it. holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he dials in her number and holds his pointer finger up at eddie, signaling that he'll need a second. steve then brings the finger to his lips and shushes with his cheek pulling up in a smirk. eddie's eyes zero in on the motion and it feels like steve's gone from being the canary back to the cat.

"linda? hey it's steve."

he watches as eddie mouths steve back at him and then nods to himself when he gets the confirmation that it is indeed his name. steve throws him a wink for good measure.

"i know i'm late and i'm really really sorry to cancel last minute but-. oh. yeah, sure. have a good time. okay bye li-."

on the other end of the line, linda slams down the phone without waiting for steve to finish talking and it makes him wince with how loud it is in his ear. he gives eddie a sheepish smile, all toothy and guilt-ridden, and gently puts the receiver back down.

"what was that?" eddie asks with a disbelieving look on his face. steve shrugs.

"she got tired of waiting so she already had another guy lined up to come pick her up."

eddie sucks in air through his teeth and mimes getting shot in the heart. it has steve laughing as he falls over on the counter, hair covering his face. he turns his head to peer up at steve through the curtain of curls, the one brown eye that's visible twinkling in the harsh overhead light.

"was it true love? are you just absolutely heartbroken?"

steve thinks about it for less than a second. watches how eddie curls back up one vertebrae at a time before placing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. watches how eddie's eyes flit between his own and his lips. watches how he focuses on the latter for a little while too long.

"why would i be heartbroken," steve starts. he's being too forward, too brash, but with eddie looking at him that way, he knows he can be. "when you'll probably be on break soon and can make it up to me? you know, for making me even more late and all."

eddie's grin grows wide again. "oh really?"

steve shrugs once more with a playful look of consideration on his face, resting on his elbows to match eddie on the counter. "yes, really. this is your payback for being bored and taking it out on me."

it's later when eddie's on break and steve hasn't left the drugstore in over an hour and they're sitting in his car with bowie playing through the speakers that eddie looks up at him with a look steve knows well.

"you do smell really good, y'know." his voice is softer than steve's heard it all day.

"so are you glad i came in to steal cologne?" steve leans closer over the center console to get into eddie's personal space. there's a hand curling over his bicep and pulling him even closer, their faces only centimeters apart.

"i guess i'll let it slide this time, thief."

and when they kiss for the first time, it tastes like the freshen-up gum they both had been nonstop chewing ever since steve paid for it.

[bluejutdae]

• Stray Kids as very specific vibes | OT8

Chan: brushing your teeth side by side, making sure the other sleeps enough, late night city dates, plaids, dimples, racing each other on the street, spraying perfume on pillow cases, trying new stuff, 3 am runs at the grocery store, trust, last minute flights, glass clinking, lightnings, early morning fog.

Minho: reading books to each other, cat cafés, cooking together, the crackling of the fireplace, the first snow of the season, camping and fishing, quiet acts of service, giving each others silly gifts, cats stickers all over the house, warm blankets and cups of tea.

Changbin: vanilla scented candles, gym dates, sharing food, laughing carelessly, meeting the families, kissing on the shoreline, summer days, sea salt on your skin, warm hands, blowing on birthday candles, quality time, feeling safe, warm bathrobes, the smell of fresh laundry.

Hyunjin: paint stains, oversized shirts, matching nail polish, staring into each other's eyes, waking up in the middle of the night, heart wrenching movies, holding hands, whispers at night, talking about true love, soulmates, words of affirmations, sharing a blanket, museum dates.

Jisung: hysteric laughing, iced americanos, playing catch, fixing hair behind the ear, sharing earrings, falling asleep on the floor, neon lights, chapped lips and bitten nails, sharing earbuds, calming tones, shaking hands, goodnight pecks, dreaming of flying, Icarus poems, silver jewelry.

Felix: late night train rides, sitting on a car roof to watch the sun rise, the fresh water of a pool, the relaxing presence of your best friend, videogames, arcades games, golden hour, pretty smiles, silly tattoos, sharing playlists, trying new food, learning to braid hair.

Seungmin: study dates, white and baby blue flowers, coffee stained pages, journals and diaries, house keys, silly key chains, good morning videocalls, matching outfits, the warm wind on a summer night, the smell of oranges in the air, the feeling of belonging, tight hugs.

Jeongin: the glint of the snow, cold hands around warm chocolate, daily outfit pics, playgrounds, pranks, sharing secrets, watching reality shows, watching the full moon, counting stars, no fear of being judged, first love, setting goals, singing out loud into fake microphones.

[seaslugfanclub]

What are the reader’s interactions with Scar like? (The holo-villains are reallly cool!)

Scar and (Y/N)’s Interactions

—————————————

In the beginning, (Y/N) had mixed feelings about Scar

On one hand, he’s a wild animal. A flamboyant wild animal who’s 430 pounds and one of natures perfectly designed predators.

On the other hand…:

(Y/N) knows that Scar enjoys his privacy, like most cats do. So if he doesn’t need any assistance, they’ll happily leave him alone

But they subtly do little things for the big cat

For the love of god keep him away from the “It’s a Small World” ride

Maybe a creating a giant scratching post out of old Mufasa merchandise

Or slipping him a little catnip when he gets too grouchy

Scar can deny being entertained by such frivolous things all he wants… but at the end of the day, he’s still a cat

Scar: How dare you mock my intelligence, comparing me to the common house ca-

(Y/N): *Clicks on laser pointer*

Scar: =O^O=

If the park is getting any new ride equipment, (Y/N) will take the large box’s for Scar to play in

One of (Y/N)’s responsibilities as being the villains “caretaker” is helping Scar with deshedding

One of the only times Scar will allow himself to relax is when (Y/N) combing through his fur. He hasn’t had much TLC in his life, especially in his exile, so it’s a secretly welcomed change.

His mane is SO SOFT, (Y/N) will gladly spend three hours detangling knots in Scars fur if it means being able to feel his mane

One moments Scar will want attention from (Y/N), but after two pets he’ll change his mind and snarl at them.

If Scars temper begins to rise, (Y/N)’s trusty spray bottle will stop any maulings

Hiding under the sofa when (Y/N) is vacuuming

*(Y/N), gently touching Scar with the side of their foot*: Scar, move out of the way please so people don’t trip on you

*Scar, his eyes enormous*: You KICK Scar? You kick his body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for (Y/N)! Jail for (Y/N) for one thousand years!!!

[allforthegaymes]

Neil josten and his disposable cameras against the world.

Neil josten who has spent his entire life ducking away from photos, whose heart still beats a little faster when he sees a photo blown up for a poster on the side of the stadium when the season starts up again. Who sees a news article about himself go up and refuses to read it, trusting his pr manager (and andrew) to make sure anything posted about him isnt something weird.

Neil josten with a different disposable camera tucked into the pockets of every pair of jeans, each backpack and duffel bag, and shoved into nearly any crevice of the apartment.

(Andrew fishes at least one a month out of the dryer after they get forgotten in Neils jeans)

At first Abby had suggested it as a way to get more used to hearing a camera flash and associate it with something positive.

So theres rolls and rolls of film developed around the dorm, photos of the foxes, the stadium when the sun sets over it and lights the sky up orange. Blurry photos from Edens of Aaron and Nicky dancing to ABBA, photographed right after is a picture of both of them leaning on the bar wall outside crying into their phones trying to call Katelyn and Erik.

(Andrew corrals them into the car when he realizes that Aaron and Nicky drunkenly called one another and had been blabbering to one another from just over a foot away thinking they’d actually called their respective partners)

A series of photos of Kevin drunk and half leaning over the bar trying to snag someone elses drink that Roland is in the middle of mixing, showing Roland darting back and forth trying to dodge Kevins long reach.

Another photo of Kevin being dragged out of Edens by security, Rolands mixer held up victoriously in his hand as he’s brought outside.

A picture of Allison leaning against her pink convertible. Her hair is tossed back behind her and her mouth is open with a loud bark of laughter. She’d glared at Neil after for taking a picture of her unaware but she has the photo pinned up in the girls dorm room anyways.

Photos of all the cats at the shelter when they decide to adopt Sir. Most of the photos are of Sir. Nearly all of them looking identical because of the Persian’s inability to not have a permanent glare on his face.

The cycle repeats when they get King. The Scottish Folds face etched with a permanently shocked look.

Theres a photo of her on the bathroom counter, feet blurry in the bottom of the photo but its clear shes trying to scramble backwards, the edge of a hair tie looped around the sink faucet and the other half lodged in her mouth as she tries valiantly to pull it loose without getting it in the water spray as Andrew washes his face in the mirrors reflection.

Andrew takes up the majority of the photos. Sure there’s hundreds pictures of the other foxes scattered about but Andrew is always Neil’s main focus.

Wether its actually Andrew framed front and center, always trying to give his typical unimpressed look but constantly betrayed by the uptick of the corners of his mouth, the slightest peak of his teeth when he closes his eyes at the beginning of a tired smile towards Neil.

Or if its not related to Andrew, the essence of him always ends up leaking in. The curl of cigarette smoke at the bottom of a photo of the sunset view from the top of Fox Tower. The reflection of his arm bands in the photo Neil snapped of the Maserati in the rain.

Neil’s favorites are the ones of him and Andrew in their house after theyve gone pro. Its a cozy house out in Washington, close enough to the Seattle team that they can comfortably commute each day without having to actually live within the city.

The lighting is always half shit because of the constant overcast sky outside. But the array of lamps inside always try their best to make the photos look orange and cozy.

Andrew sat asleep in Neils armchair. The bright orange fabric something that Andrew had huffed and rolled his eyes at, but constantly found himself in instead of the black designer chaise Andrew had bought. Both cats are on him. Sir sat on his shoulder glaring down at King, who is in the process of trying to eat his hoodie strings.

Andrew stood in the kitchen, his bare back turned towards Neil as he pours a smoothie out from the blender, arm already reached behind him and holding Neil’s smoothie glass out towards him.

Andrew a half second later, turned looking startled over his shoulder in shock from the sound of the camera shutter as Neils smoothie is caught in motion falling to the floor. Another photo following of Neil hunched over on the floor sweeping up glass.

A photo of Andrew stood with his hip cocked looking up at the light fixture on the ceiling, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stares up at it, the light half ripped out of the ceiling when he’d gotten the midnight urge to change it and then quickly remembered he was a professional athlete and not an electrician.

Andrew hunched over in the engine of a Mustang. The cars an obnoxious bright yellow, two black racing stripes gone up the middle of the hood. His hands are covered in grease and theres a streak of grease running through his short blonde hair as well. Theres a wrench in his hand and a jug of some fluid propped on the engine that Neil doesnt care enough to understand what its for.

And Neil knows the foxes start taking more pictures of him, can hear the camera shutter or see the flash going off but doesnt flinch away or try to sidestep out of the way anymore. Doesnt care that theres evidence of Neil Josten being a real man that exists and lives a real life outside of fake IDs and lies, because he has photos of the life he’s created for himself as well.

[11rosebunny]

What does he smell like? (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

Haruka Sakura

Something that smells like peppermint and clothing that got out of the dryer seconds ago. No one knows how he is able to maintain that clean smell throughout the entire day.

Even when he is sweaty, you could still get a scent of a minty burn to the nose.

Hajime Umemiya

An earthy, citrus smell. Because he spends most of his time gardening, he tends to have the aroma of leafy greens after a long day outside in the sun.

However, if it's his day off and he decides to just stay home or prance around town at the different stores, he has a tendency of putting on a deep lavender cologne.

Toma Hiragi

A warm vanilla spice.

He likes to take care of himself and has a very small collection of colognes with similar smells. His go to is a slimmer scent of a spicy aroma, the strange part is, he naturally smells like a warm vanilla. So when his perfume mixes with his actual scent, it's a pretty good combo.

Taiga Tsugeura

A woody, caramel smell. He's always working out, even during school hours. His body has trained itself to not sweat as much but even so, he still manages to catch some musk in his body. It's not too bad to the point where he smells like a stinky cat, but it's noticeable if you lean in close to him.

If he's just showered or is having a day off, he still has that same woody smell but with the slightest hint of roses.

Mitsuki Kiryu

A floral, clean smell, almost like if you stepped inside an extremely clean washroom and someone had just sprayed a flower scent. Coming from the way he takes care of himself, he deeply cares about the way he smells.

He doesn't own any cologne but has 1 or 2 body mist sprays of a gentle floral smell.

Hayato Suo

Pumpkins and black coffee. Oddly enough, the combo of those two things smells extremely musky and handsome. Some of his fragrances he owns have a more kick to the nose, while his natural aroma smells like pumpkins.

The bitter smell of black coffee purely comes from the different teas in his house, but because of how overpowering the scent of black coffee is, it sticks onto his clothing.

Jo Togame

Extremely spicy and aromatic. He grew up using Axe at an early age, so he grew accustomed to the smell of. He doesn't exactly mind trying different fragments, it's just that he couldn't be bothered to look for new ones. He'd rather keep it plain and simple.

If you do complain to him or tell him you like the smell of something else, only then he will browse around to match the same description you gave him.

Tomiyama Choji

An orangey, chocolate smell (?). The two fragrances are very different but he somehow smells like that.

He doesn't even own any hair products that may have those types of smells, his hair is naturally frizzy like that. It mostly comes from his diet I would say.

He's known to have a taste for sweet drinks and mainly eat chocolate treats.

[mousedetective]

Please Help A Mentally Ill/Disabled/Mostly Queer Family Get Temporary Housing For My Birthday?

PAYPAL | AMAZON WISHLIST | KOFI | GOFUNDME

VENMO: @penaltywaltz | CASHAPP: $afteriwake23 | ZELLE: DM me for email address

01/20/24 - New Post!

NEW GOAL!

$0/$550

(Original goal mostly met, now edited for additional room help and other things needed)

If I can get the entire amount still needed, I can do the following:

Get a nice dinner for my birthday

Get a bigger framed pair of glasses, as my current frame is too small, and get a replacement pair of prescription sunglasses as my regular sunglasses just aren't cutting it

Get a few more supplies for the room (a broom/standing dustpan, paper towels, NeutraAir spray) and for the cats (cat litter and cat food, including the special dry food they need)

We currently have the room until the morning of the 27th, but my birthday is on the 23rd and I'd love to get the room for a few extra days if possible so that we can relax until we get our disability.

We'll be going to the LGBTQA center to get Lena transferred to a gender-affirming care GP and we'll go to Exodus as well next week as well, so any help with gas to get there would be amazing.

So please reblog this version if you can, and help with money or wishlist items if you can (the restaurant gift cards go a long way, plus I desperately need the clothing for me because I've lost 40 pounds this last year and most of my stuff is now too big). Thank you for reading this, and I hope you have an awesome day!

[gloomlet]

Gloomlet’s TS4 Script, Gameplay & Replacement Mods

So I decided to compile a list of all the script/gameplay mods that i use or have used in my game. This was mainly made for my personal use, but i’m sure it could be helpful to other people too!

UPDATE! PLEASE READ!! This list is no longer up to date - use the Google Doc! - 04/25/24

Basic & Recommended!

TS4 Mod Manager ui cheats extension mc command center Carl's Sims 4 Gameplay Overhaul Relationship & Pregnancy Overhaul Wonderful Whims The Mood Pack Mod First Impressions Contextual Social Interactions Simulation Lag Fix Teleport Any Sim Better Exceptions

CAS Mods

Stand still in CAS More Traits in CAS Tidy details in CAS More CAS columns Lifetime Aspirations Child Aspirations Set Housewife - Aspiration Unlimited Likes + Dislikes Preferences Plus Homebody - Preferences 100+ CAS Traits Resized Facial Piercings

Replacements & Retextures

Fan Art Maps Map Replacements Overhaul Clean UI Sims 1 & 2 Font LIS Fonts Fluffy Clouds (Ghibli Clouds) Feet replacement Hand replacement Bra + Panty Default Replacement better babies + bottle replacement Another baby bottle replacement Default Cutlery! Cute Kitchenware Replacement Boxing Gloves Aquarium Fish Recolor Ceiling replacement paint it up mod A brighter mop Selfie Override

Objects Phone Replacement Smaller dollhouses Switch Controller + console Game controller PS1 console pc game override Remote control sponge & spray override Another Sponge & Spray override

Electric Toothbrush Razor Bassinet override infant rug +  infant tub child drawing replacement weather controller Cats & Dogs Fireplace Headphone/earbud override Old-fashioned Suitcase The slightly nicer Tree House Fireplace Lil Campers Light

Replaced + more Interactions Bed Cuddles Better Woohoo Reactions Realistic Reactions Brush Teeth From Toothbrush Holders Wake-up animation Greetings

Visuals & effects No overhead effects No zzz No object highlight no plumbob please Smaller Mosaic Minimalist CC Icon More Holiday icons

Gameplay!

Playable Pets Slower infant needs Expanded Mermaids Who's Knocking More Visitors No Bad Microwave Buffs Memory Panel Smarter Pie Menu: Searchable Smart Sim Randomizer Play Chess on any computer Strangerville Story toggle

Careers & Jobs Career Overhaul New Careers Simdeed Recruitment Services Flex Part-Time Recruitment Agency Game Developer Career Ultimate Nursing Career Modeling Career Tumbling Tots Daycare Career Shear Brilliance - Cosmetology Seasonal Odd Jobs - Autumn Odd Job Overhaul Modeling and Makeup Odd Jobs Babysitting Gigs Freelance Chef

Education Uni Tweaks Education Overhaul Uni Application Overhaul University costs more Choose Your Roommate Long Distance Learning No Uni Housing Restrictions Uni Aspirations School Lunch Override Longer or Shorter Degree Requirements

Cooking + Food Food Retexture Pack 1, Pack 2, Pack 3 Breakfast Retextures Pizza Retexture Grannies Cookbook Chef Buffet S’more Options Srsly's Complete Cooking Overhaul Dine Out Reloaded Delivery Services Sims Eat and Drink Faster Porto Luminoso Market Cutouts Buyable Cakes Functional Mixer HCH Mixer & Cookbook Functional Air fryer Functional Blender Functional Cookie jar Another Cookie Jar Functional Toaster Functional Cake Stand Functional Rice cooker Functional Pressure Cooker Boba Tea Add-ons Functional Beer Functional Frozen Ice Cart

Pregnancy Realistic Pregnancy Cherished Moments - Pregnancy Science Baby Tweak

Services & Apps Sim National Bank “SimDa” Dating App Exchange Store

Interactions Meaningful Stories Cute Romance Drama Mod Autonomous Go Steady and Propose Autonomous Break Up and Divorce Dynamic Teen Life Parent-Child Relationships Let's Get Fit Modpack Sumba Fitness

Functional Items Playful Toddler Pack Toddler Play Telephone Little Chef’s Toy Kitchen Void Critter Tablet Functional Pool Slide

Functional Toy Bin Functional Hopscotch Functional Broom Functional Paper Sketchpad Functional Drumkit Functional Spiral Staircases In Your Safe Piggy Banks Film Reaper Movie Theater Left End Counter Dishwaser

Random Small mods

Loading and CAS screens

Free Sims 4, Free Loading Screen Bonehilda Loading Screen Custom Color loading screens Lights Out Loading Screen The Blues Collection Loading Screen Lin Sims Loading Screens San Sequoia Loading Screens Abstract Art + Landscape Loading Screens H-O-B & Sulani Loading Screens Autumn Loading Screens Pink Kitten Animated Loading Screen Life is Strange Loading Screens Cloudy TS2 CAS Background Ocean Waves CAS Room Old School - CAS Room Modern Minimalism CAS Room Plumbob replacements Crystal Loading Screens

lighting mods

sunblind lighting + installation Milk Thistle Better in-game lighting Gentle CAS lighting

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Steve’s got a soft spot for the Henderson’s Christmas tree—and sure, he’s biased as hell considering he once helped decorate it: a week or so before Dustin’s Snow Ball, he’d gone round to drop off some hair stuff, and ended up hanging baubles on the branches.

It’s not like he planned to; it’s just that he got caught in a festive whirlwind from the moment Dustin dragged him into the house, and then when he saw the tree, he couldn’t just leave it like that—not with a whole section bare right near the top, and the star wasn’t even on yet.

And then he didn’t really notice the time passing as he worked. His main impressions were of a grateful Claudia mouthing, “Thank you,” while stuck on the phone with her sister, followed by a cat constantly getting under his feet.

Dustin found a spare bow on top of a pile of wrapping paper and batted it towards the cat.

“It’s good we have another cat now. Like, it’s good for mom,” he’d said once Claudia was out of the room.

It was delivered in that precocious, self-assured way Steve was already getting familiar with. He knew what it actually meant: that Dustin was really torn up about… what happened to poor Mews.

But neither of them got around to addressing it—not when it was made clear that Dustin was taking the oath of secrecy so seriously; standing there, with the can of Farrah Fawcett spray hidden up his shirt, he looked like a terrible spy doing his best to conceal classified documents.

Steve disguised a laugh by pretending to fiddle with the Christmas lights.

When Dustin was busy putting the star on top, he surreptitiously left a present under the tree. It wasn’t anything big, but still, he didn’t want the kid feeling obligated to get him one in return. That wasn’t what it was about.

A year later, and Steve’s looking up at the same tree—technically, he’s trying not to get jealous over something so stupid: that the star’s already on top, the tinsel draped perfectly. There’s nothing for him to…

It’s just that he liked …

He blinks. Looks again.

“Finally,” Dustin’s saying, shoving a cardboard box into Steve’s hands, “you can finish it.”

And then he steps away, goes into the kitchen to unpack groceries—adds after God knows how long, “Uh, preferably before New Year’s, Steve!”

Steve jolts into action.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says dryly, but it’s just on automatic pilot as he starts unpacking the box of baubles, and the full impact hits him.

That Dustin must’ve made sure these decorations were kept separate. That he’d left a space clear—right near the top of the tree. That he’d waited, just so Steve could…

Before he can hang up the baubles, Steve has to spend a couple moments just standing there, blinking hard.

Dustin pokes his head in after a little while, nods his approval. It’s when he’s reciting the Christmas dinner options to Tews (Steve stifles a snort, this goddamn ridiculous kid) that Steve seizes his opportunity: drops off his present, hidden in plain sight.

Well. It’s tradition, now.

Just when he’s about to reverse out the driveway, Dustin runs to the car.

“Steve!”

Steve winds down the window. 

Dustin grins, sticks his arm through.

“You forgot your card, duh.”

Steve smiles back. “Thanks, bud.” 

And it’s funny, Steve knows that a part of him will probably always see Dustin as twelve. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s getting taller, that the first year of high school is flying by, and Steve almost wants to get out the car there and then—to ask him to stop, even though it’s impossible.

He doesn’t. He just gently places the card in the back. Starts the engine.

He kind of feels like he did when the box of tree decorations was against his chest. A warmth, a catch in his throat—quickly blinked away as if it never existed.

Time’s gonna go on, another year reaching its end; and all of this will get stacked up like superimposed images, so that Dustin will always be twelve, and thirteen, and fourteen, all at once.

But as Steve takes a last look in his rear view mirror, he thinks maybe this one will stick the most: Dustin, waving hugely, scraps of tinsel in his hair.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |6|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: Knight In Shining Armor

Summary: Tension rises between you and Tara when you, once again, find yourself protecting her—old habits showing themselves

Warning(s): Swearing, angst, Fr*nkie, grief (if you squint), intoxication, mentions of social anxiety & underage drinking

Notes: Took a while but it's finally here! Also throwing it out there that my face claim for Charlotte is Sofia Wylie

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Tara was walking down the streets of Manhattan, finally done with her classes for the day. It had been a long week and Tara was just thankful it was finally the weekend. She walked with one earbud in while her other hand subconsciously clenched her keys in her right pocket. It was a habit she had picked up not too long after what happened back in Woodsboro; that plus the pepper spray, taser, whistle, and expandable baton Sam always made her take before leaving the house, meant she was more than ready to defend herself if needed.

As she continued to walk, she felt something fury brush up against her. She looked down to find a gray cat, brushing itself against her. Tara smiled to herself before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. “Hey, there…do you have a name?” She looked for a collar but didn’t find one. 

Just then, the sky let out a loud grumble. She looked up at the gray skies then back at the cat, thinking. “I can’t just leave you out here to get drenched. Come on, let me take you home,” she gently picked up the cat, who didn’t protest.

By the time she got home, she was soaked. Her mascara was running and her hair was damp. She was freezing cold; she had wrapped her jacket around the cat so he wouldn’t get wet.

Sam began to walk out from the kitchen as she spoke, “Hey Tar– you’re soaked.”

“Yeah no shit, Sam.”

“Is… Is that a cat?”

“...Yes…” Tara said with a sheepish smile; she had completely forgotten about the ‘needing to convince Sam to keep him’ part.

“Tara, no.”

“Sam, yes.” 

Sam sighed as she made a quick trip to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around Tara. “You can barely take care of yourself–”

“Not true!”

“–How do you expect to take care of a whole ass cat?” 

Tara rolled her eyes, still holding the cat protectively in her arms. “Come on, I’m not a kid. I can take care of a cat. I’ll buy his food, change his litter box—all that stuff!” 

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Sammy,” Tara begged, pouting out her bottom lip. She gave Sam the same look she’d give her whenever she wanted more cookies when they were younger.

“Alright—alright, fine, you win,” Sam huffed and an excited smile broke out on Tara’s face.

“Yes!” Tara looked down at the cat victoriously.

“But Tara, I swear, I better not step in cat shit.”

“No cat shit. Got it.”

—

Dook.

That’s what Tara named her new found cat—named after the Babadook. It had been only a few days since she found him and he’s earned the title of, “my little menace,” from Tara. In the few days Dook has been here he has scratched Chad five times, ripped up Mindy’s sweater in five different spots, and constantly hisses at Sam during the most random times. Why? Sam has no idea, but Tara made the theory it was, “just to mess with her.”

So far, the only person Dook has been even remotely soft to was Tara. She didn’t mind that at all; she enjoyed coming home to Dook’s company—her room feeling less empty than it usually feels.

It was the following Tuesday; she sat not too far from the door as she re-watched Fear Street 1994 while waiting for you. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she heard a couple knocks on the door. Before Sam could call out for Tara to answer it, Tara jumped up and made her way to the door. Sam only raised an eyebrow before going back to what she was doing.

Tara counted five seconds in her head before opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a slight eye roll. 

“Afternoon to you too, Carpenter. So, you're gonna let me in or…”

“Well you’re as patient as ever,” Tara remarked sarcastically as she opened the door wider, letting you inside. You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch and taking out your notes as Tara sat a couple cushions over.

“So, I was thinking we could start with Friday’s notes and work our way to today since I couldn’t make Friday—” You suddenly heard Tara let out a dry chuckle, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Carpenter?” You quipped, looking up from your papers and at her. 

“Oh nothing…just that you’ve been missing a lot of study sessions lately and–”

“I wouldn’t call two a lot–”

“–and I don’t know why I have to suffer through extra work all because you wanna swap spit.”

You let out a dry laugh, looking at the younger Carpenter before realizing she was dead serious. 

“Oh—Oh you’re serious? Well, how about those two whole weeks you missed over some petty reason—I don't know what the reasoning was, but I know for a fact it was a hundred percent petty.”

“You know what, screw these notes,” Tara said before grabbing your binder from you.

“Hey—Hey! Wait just a minute there—what are you–?”

“We’re watching a movie,” she informed—not asking—after shutting your binder, putting it somewhere you couldn’t reach unless you stood up and walked to it. 

“We're a week and a half behind on study sessions.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s literally your problem—our problem, actually.”

“Gosh, could you just not stress out for, like, two seconds? You’ll be fine. Now, a little birdy told me you like The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Tara told you, reaching for the remote.

“Yeah… I do.”

“Great. We’ll watch that.”

You didn’t need to know how boring she found the movie; she wasn’t looking at the screen much anyways.

—

Sam sat in her room, reading her book as she enjoyed the silence—wait. It’s silent. Why is it so quiet? It’s never so quiet when you’re over. The most she’s heard in the last thirty minutes were hushed voices, but nothing loud enough she could make out. She suddenly started to think about what could possibly be going on in the other—unsupervised—room. She could no longer concentrate on her book as her protective side took over.

You slightly leaned forward as you watched the screen with all your attention. Tara couldn’t help but wear a small smile when she noticed your intense focus. She pulled out of her gaze when she noticed you make a double take at your foot; just then, she saw a certain furry haired animal brushing up against your leg. 

To her surprise, Dook didn’t claw at you. As a matter of fact, he seemed…fond of you? 

“Hello, there…” You greeted Dook before gently picking him up. If anybody else had picked him up, they would’ve been clawed at in seconds. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she watched you interact with her cat; the same cat who’s been an absolute ass to anybody who wasn’t her—well, before now.

You scratched him behind his left ear, causing him to let out a satisfied purr. It was then when you finally said something to Tara. “Since when did you have a cat?”

“Got him pretty recently, actually. He was just roaming the streets of Manhattan and had no collar so that’s how he ended up here.”

“Well, does this adorable face have a name?” You asked, looking at the cat as you complimented him.

Tara failed to fight another smile, showing off her dimples as she answered, “His name’s Dook.”

“Like, Babadook?”

“Yeah…” She watched as you continued to be sweet with Dook; he sat comfortably in your lap, looking a lot less grumpy than he usually is.

Suddenly, Sam abruptly enters the living room, causing Dook to hiss at her before moving back into his original position on your lap. 

“Sam, hey. Something wrong?” Tara asked her older sister.

“Uh, I just wanted to check up on you guys; it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, we decided to watch a movie instead.”

Sam looked at the scene, recognizing the movie—her curiosity increased.

“Nightmare Before Christmas? But I thought you–”

“Have no harsh judgment regarding the movie? Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean, don’t you find it really bor–”

“Entertaining? Yes, Sam. We know this.” Tara let out a dry cough, hoping Sam would just drop the topic all together.

“Okay…well I’m going to order some pizza. Are you staying over for dinner, Y/N?” Sam inquired, moving on, much to Tara’s relief. 

You looked at the time, thinking as you did, before looking at Sam from where you sat. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll order it right now,” she said before walking away, pulling out her phone as she did so.

“What was that about?” You asked Tara with a raised eyebrow, referring to what her and Sam were going back and forth about. 

Tara opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, when she heard someone knocking. “Oh, I should probably get that,” Tara quickly got up to make her way to the door, relieved at being excused from answering.

“What are you guys doing here?” She immediately asked after opening the door to find Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan on the other side of the door.

“Good to see you too, T,” Mindy quipped.

Tara rolled her eyes, “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you guys today.”

“We made plans last week for movie night.”

“And since it’s my turn to choose, we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You,” Anika added in a cheery tone. 

“Um,” Tara looked over her shoulder to you, before looking back at her friends, “One second.” 

“Wait, who were you loo–” Before Chad could finish his question, Tara shut the door, making her way towards you.

“So, uh–”

“Heard the whole thing.”

Tara lightly nodded, holding her wrist in her other hand behind her back as she continued. “Does this mean… you’re going to go?” 

You were about to say yes but the words caught in your throat when you finally looked at the expression Tara wore.

You thought for a moment, putting down the bag you were just packing.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well…want’s a strong word–”

“Yes or no, Tara,” you said, looking at her.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, looking away from your gaze. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mumbles,” you teased the younger Carpenter.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I wan—I want you to stay. Happy?” She huffed, not even sure why she puts up with you.

You smile smugly at her, “Fine. ‘Guess I’m staying.” 

—

It was awkward—at least, for you, it was. Tara and her friends seemed to get each other, which is great for them, but you felt almost like a chaperone the entire time you were there. You tried to distance yourself as much as possible and when you did find yourself surrounded by the group of friends, you stuck by Anika. 

You always found yourself gravitating toward a familiar presence whenever you got caught in social situations like this. You spent most of your own fourteenth birthday party—that you didn’t even want—attached to Henry’s side, following him around like a puppy. You often stuck by people who you found comfort in. You’ve known Henry since daycare years and Anika has been there since she’s entered your life. 

You look at the time to see only an hour has passed as you sigh to yourself. Why were you here again?

“Hey,” you heard Tara say, opening her bedroom door to find you on her bed.

Oh, that’s why. 

“Hey.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said as a matter of fact, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

“Hm? Oh no—no this is, uh, great. Yeah, I just love hearing about the same football story over and over again while your curly haired friend continues to make passes at me…so fun,” your voice couldn’t be any more sarcastic. It started out as you wanting to lie, telling her it was going alright—truly! But you can’t help but be your usual sarcastic self, especially around Tara. 

“You’re having the worst time ever, aren’t you?”

You looked at her apologetic expression, exhaling as you adjusted your posture a bit. Tara walks over to sit across from you. 

“Look…Tar, it’s nothing personal. I’m just—I’m just not good with this stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Tara inquired genuinely.

You sighed, pressing down on your thumbnail with your index finger as you spoke. “I’m not good with…unfamiliarity I guess, or whatever. And—and socializing and all that shit just doesn’t come naturally to me—at least not like it does for people like Anika, and Chad—or you.”

Tara continued to listen to your words, giving you her full attention as you opened up to her. You blinked back at Tara, feeling like you just overshared far too much.

“This was stupid. Forget it.” You got up to leave but just as you reached for the door handle, you felt slender fingers wrap themselves around your wrist.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard Tara speak. You turned your head to look at her. “If you ever want to talk about it more… I’m here. That won’t change.” 

You swallowed, taking in Tara’s words as you processed what she was saying. You didn’t trust your voice, only settling for a light nod before leaving Tara’s bedroom.

By the time Tara also left—waiting a couple minutes, wanting to give you some time—you had already made your escape. 

When you got home that night, the feeling of dread took over you. It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat as you tried your hardest not to cry, because you knew if you did there was a chance you’d never stop. Memories of him flashed through your mind as you tried to shake them away, but it was no use. No matter how much you tried to escape it, Dewey's voice continued to ring in your head.

Dewey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking at you with  genuine eyes as he spoke, “I’m here. That won’t change.”

—

Tara looked around with furrowed eyebrows, looking at the sea of people. She was currently at a Halloween frat party; she chose to go with a pirate costume this year. 

Tara was feeling indecisive about her costume this Halloween but then she got the idea when she remembered something you told her; for your first seven Halloweens, your mom had you dressed up as a pirate. Tara could tell you would not be wearing a pirate costume again any time soon.

Because of your high-sea past, Tara thought dressing up as a pirate would be a fun way to mess with you—well, if you were actually here. You were nowhere in sight. Tara squinted her eyes as she tried looking through the crowd—still no sign of you. 

Mindy noticed her friend looking around the room from her seat, which was odd. By this time Tara would be drinking, dancing, or even playing beer pong with Chad—but not sitting down.

Before Mindy could ask anything, Tara turned to Anika, asking her something that answered Mindy’s unspoken question.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Tara asked, her voice was slightly raised due to the blaring music. 

“At home. She couldn't—or rather refused to make it,” Anika answered the younger Carpenter.

“Oh,” Tara let out, turning to look ahead. 

Mindy and Anika glanced at each other, already being on the same page. “Why? Missed her?” Mindy inquired, smirking behind her beer bottle right before taking a sip.

Tara lightly scoffed, “Pfft no.” Tara dramatically rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Y/N?” Tara heard Anika say; she immediately sat up, uncrossing her arms and fixing her demeanor. Her expression instantly dropped when she saw who you were with. 

She did not know much about Charlotte. She seemed nice though. Nice enough. Tara heard from Anika that you’ve been “hanging out” with Charlotte for a few weeks now but haven’t exactly assigned labels yet. That made sense; you were never one for labels. 

She suddenly snapped out of her gaze when she realized you and Charlotte were walking towards them. 

“Hey, guys,” you said in an anything but enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you weren’t coming,” Anika pointed out, not unkindly.

“Me too but this one,” you pointed with your thumb to Charlotte, “is quite the debater.”

“I was captain of the debate team back in high school,” Charlotte smirked. 

“Of course you were,” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice as you and Charlotte shared a look. Tara didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. You teased her. You gave her looks nobody else knew the meaning behind except you two.

Tara cleared her throat, causing you and Charlotte to look away from each other and at her. “So, you're gonna actually act like you’re here as a college student or a chaperone?” Tara joked and a small but soft smile grazed your face. 

“The night’s still young, Carpenter,” you replied, the smile she had been missing never faltering.

“Oh! Daisy’s here, I’m going to say hi. Catch you later?” You heard Charlotte speak from beside you. 

You looked over at her and lightly nodded, “Okay.” She placed a quick kiss on your cheek, catching you off guard, before going to her friend. 

You sat down in the seat between Tara and Anika—who was sitting in Mindy’s lap—and exhaled, already exhausted from being here.

“You’ve got,” Anika said, pointing to your cheek where there was a lipstick stain. You raised your left hand to your right cheek as your roommate shook her head.

“No the other—” You, once again, completely dodged the spot she was pointing at and Tara groaned.

“Dude, you’re helpless,” she said with an eye roll before reaching over and wiping the spot for you. She softly rubbed your left cheek as you looked at her. It didn’t take long for you to notice how close her face was to yours.

“There…” Tara trailed off, suddenly growing shy when she too realized how close her face was to yours.

Mindy and Anika look at each other before getting up. “We’re gonna dance. You kids behave,” Mindy said before walking away with her arm wrapped around Anika. 

“Let me guess… you’re a homicidal maniac?” She looked at your casual attire.

You smiled at her, tilting your head back and turning it to look at her, “You know me too well.”

You both shared a short laugh before it went silent again. Suddenly, you two realized this is the first you’ve both spoken to each other since that night at Tara’s place.

“Hey, so, uh, you didn’t say goodbye…” Tara said sheepishly, refusing to meet your gaze as she played with the hem of her costume. She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about, you just knew.

“Oh yeah, I was just tired so I decided to call it a night.”

Tara nodded understandingly as you looked down at her hands that toyed with the fabric of her costume. 

“So…was this,” you gestured to her costume, “planned or…? You both laughed again before she answered you.

“Course’ not. I just…happened to have decided on being a pirate a couple days after you told me your ‘first seven years of dread’ story.” Another laugh was shared between you two.

“Well, you look good,” you complimented. Tara couldn’t fight the heat that rushed to her cheeks as the compliment hit her ears. She was about to respond when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate.

You pulled out your phone, reading the text to yourself before putting it back in your pocket.

“It’s Charlotte, she wants me to meet her by the pool.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, princess.” You smiled at her as you sat up from your seat, Tara’s head tracked your movement. 

“Me? I would never.”

—

One thing. 

You asked her for one, very simple, thing. And now? Now, Mindy and Anika were calling you back inside because apparently Tara had the luck of being near Frankie of all people tonight. 

By the time you made your way inside—as quickly as you possibly could—you could see Chad also trying to stop the situation. You made your way over to the staircase, appearing from behind Chad.

“Let’s stay down here,” you said—not asking. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Frankie said, causing you to let out a humorless chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” you remarked, feeling your hands start to ball up into tight fists. Before you could say anything else, Tara walks down a couple steps and is now standing in front of you as Chad keeps a careful eye on Frankie. “No, Y/N it’s fine. I want to,” you heard her say in a drunken voice. Far too drunk to consent. 

Frankie walks down, getting close to your face as he wears a disgusting grin. “Yeah, see Y/N? It’s fine. She wants to.” He turned around, roughly grabbing Tara’s arm. His grip causes Tara to let out a sound of pain, tripping on the stairs.

Without a second thought you pull him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him roughly against the wall; picture frames come crashing down but don’t give them a second look as hear glass shatter. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You pushed your right arm harder against his throat, pinning him against the wall as your free hand tightly gripped his shirt. “Serousily, where the fuck do you get off!” 

Chad checked on Tara as you had Frankie pinned to the wall. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him so bad. What was stopping you? You could do it. You look down at the shards of glass, itching to grab a piece. Suddenly, you saw that sinister smile. His sinister smile. That’s why you couldn’t.

But when you looked back at Frankie, you quickly forgot about everything that was stopping you. All you had to do was press into his throat a little harder and–

“I got it from here, Y/N.” You turned around to see Sam holding a taser. You immediately got the hint, getting off of Frankie.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick,” Sam said before tasing Frankie right in the crotch.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, holding onto his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“You bitch!” He yelled, earning a swift kick between his legs—making the pain worse—from you.

“Watch your mouth,” you said before making your way towards Tara. “You okay?”

“It’s that psycho girl from reddit!” Someone shouted from the crowd that surrounded you. 

“Hey, don’t you have something better to do rather than stand around here all day?” Anika shouted at the crowd as Mindy shooed them away.

—

Tara walks ahead of the group as she feels her frustration take over. Sam tries to catch up to her as she calls for her, “Tara, will you stop!” Tara rolls her eyes, refusing to stop as she responds. “I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!” 

“I was trying to help you!” 

Tara suddenly turns around, “And look what happened!” Her voice raises as it runs hot with anger. “You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds,” Tara shouts with a throw of her arms. 

“Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counselor at least once?”

You looked at Tara, studying every expression she wore on her face. You wanted her to be okay. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but you still couldn’t help but want it. You hated seeing her like this. You never liked seeing her like this.

You checked up on her when she was at the hospital, relieved she was asleep when you got there. You didn’t want her to think it meant anything. You were just making sure she still had a pulse. Who else would you get into fights with?  That’s what you told yourself, 'cause it’s true! You weren't overly concerned or anything. But it was the bare minimum amount of concern to have when you found out somebody you knew was recently used as somebody else's pin cushion. 

She’s Tara Carpenter, she’ll bounce back in no time, you told yourself. You can still remember the shock on all her friends' faces when they saw you sitting by her hospital bedside. They entered the room and when you saw them, you immediately stood up.

“Sorry, I just found out about what happened and wanted to check on her.” You put your hands in your pocket, feeling uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You couldn’t tell what was going through their heads. “But she’s breathing, so I’ll get going now.” When you’re about to walk out the door, Chad puts his hand on your shoulder which causes you to stop. Was he about to punch you? “You’re welcome to stay, dude.” Oh. 

You were welcome to stay. Did you want to? 

You shook your head,“No, it’s okay. You guys should spend your time with her—unbothered.” You said before walking out of the hospital, not waiting for a response.

Maybe you cared little more than you’d ever admit.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear Tara’s voice again.

“Because I know what mine is—I’m going to get my degree, become a lawyer, and live my life, my life,” Tara’s voice was firm. Certain. 

—

Two soft knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Tara was about to tell whoever it was to go away, but then she realized who those knocks belonged to.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” you greeted, carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and a cup of water.  

“Hey,” she replied, head tracking your movement as you put the items down and got closer to where she sat at the edge of her bed. 

“Mind if I…” You gestured to the open spot next to her and she patted it. You sat down, knees touching hers as you looked down at your hands that rested in your lap. Tara’s gaze from you only broke when she felt the feeling of embarrassment all over again.

You noticed a change in her demeanor, causing you to finally glance at her. “I don’t think she meant for to…make you feel embarrassed or anything,” you tried to comfort. You were never good at this kind of stuff. 

“I know… I just—I just completely embarrassed myself out there. You guys probably think a lot less of me now…”

You lightly nudge her shoulder, getting her to look at you again. “Hey, no, okay? We just wanna make sure you're safe,” your facial expression matched your honest tone as you spoke. 

Tara turned her head away, a smirk slowly growing on her face. She turned back to look at you, ignoring how close your faces were. “We?” 

You rolled your eyes as Tara kept hers on you, smirk never falling. “Don’t let it get to that big ass ego of yours.”

“Aww, you caree about me,” Tara teased. You felt your cheeks warm up as you grew flustered.

“I care about you the—bare minimum amount,” you said unconvincingly. 

Tara shoved you a bit, “Liar.”

You shoved her back, “Most honest person you’ll ever meet.” 

Tara shoved you back again. “Liar.”

“Oh, you really wanna play this game?” You inquired, turning your head to her. 

Tara still smirked as she responded, “I could do this all night.”

Your faces were, once again, inches apart. Tara’s eye line meets your lips as tension builds in the room. Then suddenly the door opens, causing you and Tara to pull apart.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t mean to cock block you,” Quinn said as you and Tara silently cringed.

“Please...don't say cock," Tara said while slightly grimacing.

Quinn shrugged then looked at you. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Quinn,” she held out her hand. You glanced at Tara before accepting the red head’s hand. 

“I’m–”

“Y/N? Yeah, I’ve heard lots about you.” You couldn’t tell what that could’ve meant, not noticing the shared look between Quinn and Tara.

“Don’t you have, like, a guy to see or something?” Tara asked, trying to get Quinn out of here as soon as possible.

“Well, Tara’s right, I should get going,” Quinn said, immediately getting the hint. “See you around, Y/N,” she winked at you.

“That was…” You trailed off, not able to meet Tara’s gaze.

“Embarrassing? Oh, extremely.” 

—

“Is Tara okay?” Charlotte asked over the phone. You held your phone to your ear as you grabbed a box of leftover pizza from the fridge with one arm.

“She will be…” You thought about the younger Carpenter as you spoke.

“I’m glad.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I uh… didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“What do you mean?” You placed the box on the table, sitting down.

“You had Frankie pinned. A man with his frame and build was completely defenseless under your hands. It was impressive,” her last words came with a flirty tone. 

“Oh, yeah?” You decided to match her tone.

“Yeah… Do you want to come over tomorrow? My roommate's visiting his boyfriend so I’ll be pretty lonely—some company would be nice."

You bit your bottom lip, thinking as you looked at your calendar. “Yeah—yeah, that works. What time should I stop by?”

“Six good?”

You looked at your calendar again.

“Can’t do six…” You said, looking at Tara’s name on your calendar. “How about eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, super soldier.” 

You let out a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. See you then.”

—

Tara was on the phone with Mindy, intensely debating over American Psycho, when she heard a couple knocks on the door. 

She got up from the couch as she said goodbye to Mindy, hanging up. She opened the door to see you standing there with your bag on your shoulder. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tara realized it had been a full ten seconds since she opened the door. She moved to let you inside, and you sat in your usual spot. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Tara inquired as she sat, hugging her knees.

“He didn’t really give us much to work with on Friday so, uh, just whatever we missed last time,” you said, not even looking at her as you looked around your stuff.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah my pen. It was here five seconds ago–”

“This pen?” Tara said, pulling something from behind your ear. You looked at her and realized she was holding your pen. She hands it to you as you let out a timid chuckle, embarrassed at your lack of attention.

“Are you…alright?” She asked, looking at your features as you spoke.

“It’s just exams and stuff. I’ve kind of been all over the place trying to prepare—but that’s why I’m here. To study. So let’s begin,” you pull out your binder, flipping to the right folder.

Tara hesitantly followed along, keeping an eye on you. 

After an hour and a half, you looked at the time and silently cursed as you got up and gathered your things.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Charlotte around eight. So, I gotta get going,” you packed everything, racking your brain for anything else you could be forgetting. 

“Oh..okay…”

You turned to look at Tara, “What is it?”

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. “Nothing, have fun—oh, and don’t forget your pen,” she dismissed as she held up said pen to you. 

You wear an embarrassed tight lipped smile, slowly taking the pen from her. “Thanks,” you put the pen in your bag before zippering it up.

“Uh, hey,” you heard Tara call out.

You stopped your movement, turning back to Tara. “See you later?” 

You lightly nodded, a small smile on your face. “Of course.���

—

Tara found herself blasting Lana Del Rey as she wore a pout. Why was she wearing a pout? She had no idea. It was just there, and for some reason she was in a sour mood. She also knew she despised you. Possibly more than she did before; she was just starting to adjust then you had to go and make things even more confusing for her. 

Tara looked at her ceiling as she laid in her bed, petting Dook who rested beside her. She suddenly remembered the beer in the fridge. 

Sam was in therapy, Quinn was seeing another one of her hookups—what’s the harm?

Five beer cans later and she was more than buzzed. The urge to call you was getting harder and harder to resist with each can. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from opening your contact. 

“Tara?” You asked, confused as to why she’s calling you so randomly.

“Y/NN,” she slurred into the phone. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

“I—uh, where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” She said, followed by a hiccup.

“I’m coming over.”

—

You knocked two times; you could hear Tara struggling with the door knob from the other side before finally opening it.

“What are you doing here?” Tara inquired with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she forgot about your call from just ten minutes ago.

“Goodness, you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell the time,” you crossed your arms as you looked at her. She turned to the nearby clock, “I am not drunk!” She literally told it.

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you walked over to her but then unexpectedly felt a shove to your chest.

“I don’t—I don’t need your help.” 

You exhaled, knowing all too well about the venomous look she wore. “You don’t mean that, come on.”

“I do! I don’t even want you here,” she slurred as she shoved your chest again.

“Too bad then. Cause’ I’m not leaving you like this.”

Tara had used up all the energy she had left to shove you, so she couldn’t even fight you off as you tried to walk her to her bedroom.

“Fuck you,” she gritted. 

“I know.” 

“No. You don’t know!” Tara yelled. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she continued as you looked down at her. “I’m not a princess who has to be saved all the time.”

“Come on, I know you’re no–”

“This is what you do,” she pulled her arm away from you, “you just swoop in when everything’s fine and completely ruin shit. You think you’re pleasant to be around? Just when I think I have my life figured out, you have to come in and ruin it,” Tara spoke with pure conviction, no slurring in her voice.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a dry laugh before saying, “When do you ever.” 

“You’re drunk, Tara… Please just let me get you to bed so you don't say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I don’t regret anything—and I’ll bring my own ass to bed.”

“Okay,” you softly said. You watched as she walked down the hall and to her bedroom. You waited a few minutes, getting the ibuprofen and water ready, before entering her bedroom carefully. Just as suspected, she was already asleep. You silently place the medicine and water on her nightstand before looking at her resting demeanor. 

Oh Tara, what am I gonna do with you?

-----------

A/N: I 100% know you guys aren't expecting the family member reveal I'm gonna do for R at some point (clues are scattered...)

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

[loganlermanstanaccount]

please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

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

You look too good to feel this shitty. 

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point. 

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation. 

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–” 

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag. 

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away. 

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble. 

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase? 

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer. 

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face. 

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over. 

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared. 

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then… 

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip. 

"You okay? " 

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter. 

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice. 

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit. 

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside. 

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile. 

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost. 

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it?  A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus. 

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here. 

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man. 

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid. 

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic. 

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds. 

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head. 

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask. 

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask. 

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat. 

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer. 

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him. 

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all. 

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between? 

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass. 

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low. 

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side. 

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat. 

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently. 

Quickly, he stops you. 

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you. 

"But soon?" 

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist. 

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason. 

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline. 

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately. 

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork. 

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak. 

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor. 

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions. 

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions. 

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless. 

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more. 

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock. 

"Hey." 

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful . 

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath. 

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.”  He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain. 

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips. 

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts. 

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe. 

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours. 

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips. 

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room. 

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration. 

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely. 

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair. 

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.  

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly. 

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock. 

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on  his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away. 

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care. 

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart. 

“We should.” 

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair. 

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands. 

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare. 

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches. 

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?” 

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[citruslullabies]

Could you do moments of Catnap acting like a cat now? Please?

Can do since they're super quick and easy!!

I have a feeling this is gonna be your guys' new favorite thing

Like Dogday, Catnap can make animal noises!

And more than just purring

Hes one of those cats with a cutie patootie face and a demonic meow

The feline was just laying around all day, dealing with glares from Dogday and Cubby trying to attack him. They just didn't understand why you let him inside, but he wasn't hurting anything; actually he wasn't very active when you weren't around.

But as soon as he heard that door click open, his ears shot up and he quickly stretched. Not wanting to seem like an overly clingy cat, he didn't act how he wanted to and just sat up. A Cheshire cat smile still makes its way to his face when you walk inside and rub between his ears though, watching as you walk into the living room and set your stuff down. He got up in all his tallness and made his way over to you; but the mini's and Dogday beat him to it. The purple cats ears fell and a low growl released from his throat, but he would be alright.

However when you continuously gave the four every ounce of your attention, not saving even a drop for him; he got annoyed and let out a loud obnoxious mrow. It would've sounded a lot better if his voice box wasn't absolute garbage from being damaged, but it obviously caught your attention and you immediately started to give him attention. "Awh, sorry kitty." You said softly, he purred loudly in your touch and looked at the others with a smug expression.

He knocks things over

Sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose

More than likely on purpose

The room was still and quiet in every corner, with the noise box playing and your eyes focused on the imagery it would show. Completely off into your own world before being startled when you heard glass shattering, looking over to the kitchen and narrowing your eyes. "What was that!?" You called out.

Guilty as can be, Catnap quickly tried to speak up despite how croaky his throat can be. "Nothing!" He cooed, trying to hide the fact that he was on the counter when he wasn't supposed to be. He stared at the broken glass below him, tail swaying as Peanuts came over with his eye filled with curiosity as he sniffed it. You however came to the rescue and gently shooed him away, spraying Catnap before sweeping up the glass. Catnap left with a hiss and escaped into the living room, ears flat as he was pouty for getting in trouble.

However... His eyes quickly caught sight of the TV that constantly took up your attention, and a mischievous look came across his face as he wiggled his tail and knocked it over. A loud crash echoed through the house with a certain kitty being proud of himself. "CATNAP!"

He has a really rough tongue

And since he absolutely adores you, likes to lick your face

Poor you

Getting ready for bed used to be easy, until you had various critters in your home at all times. You just wanted one night to yourself and thought that you had them all kicked out, but Catnap revealed himself from the shadows and quickly loafed on top of you before you could shoo him away. "Catnap." You said with a frown, but he purred away.

The loud rumbling of the purr being all you could hear as you stared off into space unamused, before feeling a very rough tongue try to lick your nose and in turn licking your entire face. It felt like someone took slightly damp sand paper to your face making you hiss and try to push Catnap's big head away, but he refused to stop and continued to nuzzle into you and lick your face.

Eventually he had enough and rolled off of you, walking over to the door all prissy like and exiting. He left you with a forcefully red and sore face and you covered in his scent; which none of the other critters would be happy about. With the door left open, you could hear Biscuits hissing at Catnap before sadly glaring at you like you betrayed him. Cats.

Thanks for requesting!

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with minho before death knocks

✰ pairings: sick!minho x gn!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, grief

✰ warnings: major character death, mentions of alzheimer’s illness, lots of what ifs and unsaid thoughts, forever isn’t for ever.

✰ word count: 1.2k + words

MINHO | chan | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

hey, uhm i honestly don’t know what to say but i’ll try. so it’s five forty in the morning and i’m sending these to you. the doctors– they said i won’t be able to m-make it. . . and i want to reassure you that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. at all, my kitten. we didn’t know i had this terminal illness, and i think now is the perfect time to say those things i never said. firstly, i love you so much. more than you can imagine. and yes, even more than that tv show of mine. there’s honestly so much to say, but there’s so little time. i have only 2-3 more hours, i suppose? and i begged the doctor to not call you before i’m gone. i know this isn’t fair to you my little star, but i don’t want to see you in pain because of me, or anyone else. which is why i’m afraid of letting go of your hand. afraid that if i go, you will try to follow me blindly, do the wrong things, walk down the wrong paths and will end up losing yourself. i don’t ever want that to happen. ever. so, please don’t cry when i’m gone. i guess you can cry a bit. . . but not much. what if you end up getting a sore throat? if you do, take the medicines from the second drawer in the bathroom, okay?

two 𖨂

i’ll miss you. your goofy faces that you make, your cute little squeaks between your laughs, your beautiful eyes that always shine when you see chocolates and you. all of you. i’ll miss all of you so much. how about you? will you miss me too? will you bake your cinnamon rolls that i love so much at the funeral? or on my birthday? will you? i’m not even sure what happens after death. whether i will even remember you or not, i don’t know. but what i know is, that i’ll watch over you from up there. i’ll always watch. so don’t be afraid to step out of the house after it gets dark. and if you do, carry that pepper spray with you, okay? doesn’t it feel so surreal? me becoming a star, when i always call you my little star? i guess that’s why i’ll have to watch over you from afar. me, a big star. you, my cute little star. i’ll shine bright in the sky, i’m sure of that. so don’t you dare lose that shine on you as well, alright?

three 𖨂

it feels weird and- and scary. i’m so nervous, love. i didn’t want to die like this, never! i wanted to live a long life with you. live with our three little cats, and maybe a few mini versions of ourselves running around our house. i wanted to see you grow old. and i want to keep loving you even when you put hair brushes into the freezer and dishes in the bathroom, i want to be with you. right by your side. and even when you forget to brew your evening coffee, i want to hold your hand and guide you. and even when you keep repeating the same words three times a day, i will pretend it’s new. so that you don’t have to remember that you’re forgetting. yeah, i know it. the doctors told me you can have alzheimer’s over time, it’s highly possible. but i’m afraid i won’t be able to take care of you kitten. and i’m sorry– i really am. i wish it didn’t have to end this way.

four 𖨂

i know you. you were looking for forever. i couldn’t give you that. but i can at least take the batteries out of the clocks so that we’ll be stuck inside this moment as if time had really been stopped. so that i’ll almost get a million extra seconds to spend with you, except here seconds do not exist. it’s only the two of us. you and i. in our forever. and when i die, you can crank your watch– restart the clocks and begin the time. and know that we were infinite the moment you were mine. i’ll always be yours. always. i promise. but i want you to move on. i want you to experience love again while you’re still young. i’ll support every decision of yours from up there, and i’ll cheer on you. i don’t ever want to hold you back. nuh-uh. i want you to move forward, and even though you can look back, i don’t ever want you think you could’ve changed the past. you need to walk on a different road now. one without me. and though it hurts to say this– you need to live without me. live for us. live for the future you always wanted. live to complete those bucket lists of yours and even mine, since i couldn’t complete even a single of them. live. just live happily.

five 𖨂

it’s ten minutes past seven, and i feel sick. pain scale infinite/100. my whole body feels on fire. my hands– they wouldn’t stop trembling no matter how hard i try. my lips have turned pale, and i feel it coming. i can sense it. i can sense death waiting on the door. waiting that the moment i finish it’s going to snatch me away from you, from this world. and i’m trying to stall time. but my body doesn’t listen to me anymore. it’s become weaker and more. . . stubborn. my love. i wish i could call you that more often. my little star. my kitten. all these nicknames are the only way i survived my nights admitted in this hospital. i used to think of you. think of what you would do after i’m gone. think of what you would feel. think of who else would cry for me. and i don’t know what to do. i really don’t. i feel just so helpless. i don’t know what to do anymore. i really don’t. i hope you’re not sad because of it. please don’t be. take care of our three beautiful children okay? tell them that their father has gone to a beautiful place, show them your love, sing to them at night and take them in your arms when you feel sad. and if you ever miss me, look at the rain, or the stars or the clouds, i’ll always be here to listen. always. just as i promised.

six 𖨂

i hoped that death would be a bit kinder. i hoped she gave me some more time, some more years i could spend loving, admiring and memorizing every bit of you. but it’s always unexpected. she comes in unexpected ways and takes away our loved ones in the blink of an eye. i’m talking like a true poet now, aren’t i? give that pink letter to my parents, green one for each members and blue one for you. tell them to open that after a week, it applies to you as well, missy. be kinder to yourself. love yourself. look at the mirror and think of my compliments. felix gives the best hugs. hug him if you feel low. if you ever feel drained out like me. i’m tired now. just– so so tired. can i rest now? please? i’ll always love you regardless of whatever may come. and i’ll always be in your heart. i’m about to be a star, my love. s-signing off, yours forever.

taglist: @taeriffic

for anyone who wants to be added to the taglist either send me an ask without anon (cause it’s s taglist) or fill the form linked in my masterlist <333

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy clung on tightly to the wildly waving branches of the eleagnus bush until there was a momentary lull in the battering gale, and then, with a vigorous tail wind to assist him, he flew straight to the safest refuge which could be found in his assistants' garden.

He knew that he would be much better protected there than in the wider landscape, because the garden was an oasis of densely planted small trees, large shrubs, and generally abundant vegetation, which offered welcome cover to many small creatures in what was otherwise a totally exposed environment, open to the Atlantic storms on three sides out of four. There was little beyond the garden's enclosing hedges but barren rock interspersed with dangerous peat bogs and windswept moorland, where there was scarcely any shelter to be found at all.

Tucking himself down tightly beneath a luxurious canopy of ferny fronds, Algy leaned back against a moss-covered step and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He could still hear the storm raging and roaring all around, and he could feel an occasional drop of rain, which no doubt heralded the beginning of the torrential downpour that was expected to accompany the wind as it passed through, but in his cosy though rather damp nook, neither wind nor rain would be likely to trouble him greatly.

As he relaxed in his own wee sanctuary, Algy thought of his assistants, who were sheltering in their squat stone house nearby, and his other friends across Scotland (including his new friend @ox24g in the far north), and he remembered a poem which, although it was not written about this precise location, described what was evidently a very similar place, in very similar conditions. Luckily, unlike Algy's own wee nest on the cliffs, his assistants' home and garden were sufficiently removed from the sea not to be threatened by storm surges or giant, battering waves. In a severe gale, however, he had observed that the windows of their house did indeed get splattered by the spitting of the sticky ocean spray, which was carried at considerable speed quite some distance away from the shore:

We are prepared: we build our houses squat, Sink walls in rock and roof them with good slate. This wizened earth has never troubled us With hay, so, as you see, there are no stacks Or stooks that can be lost. Nor are there trees Which might prove company when it blows full Blast: you know what i mean — leaves and branches Can raise a tragic chorus in a gale So that you listen to the thing you fear Forgetting that it pummels your house too. But there are no trees, no natural shelter. You might think that the sea is company, Exploding comfortably down on the cliffs, But no: when it begins, the flung spray hits The very windows, spits like a tame cat Turned savage. We just sit tight while wind dives And strafes invisibly. Space is a salvo, We are bombarded by the empty air. Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.

[Algy is quoting the poem Storm on the Island by the 20th/early 21st century Irish poet Seamus Heaney.]

[bondagebimbo]

HELP !!! 😭

I hate to ask this of y’all but a friend stopped over about a week ago to give me something but they tracked fleas into my room from their own flea-riddled fucking apartment and now my cats are covered and I need to treat all three of them, get a spray for the house to kill the eggs hiding in the fabrics of everything, treat them for ear mites, AND get a new bed set/sheets/pillows, etc, because I don’t even want to wash the ones I have. I’m so paranoid about having fleas in general and I just want to treat them, spray everything, and put a new bedding set on my bed. I’m even tempted to try and get like new clothes so I can just throw my shit out rather than deal with treating all these guys and them then picking the fleas back up from old clothes they laid on they have flea eggs buried in them and be right back where I am now.

I’m so fucking pissed that this happened right when I’m unable to do anything about it so if y’all can help me out so I can get rid of this problem before it becomes total infestation and makes my life more of hell than it was, I’ll link my cashapp below 😭 I just want my kitties to feel better and to not have an infestation happen due to waiting too long yo take care of it

🥺 please help before this gets even more out of hand 🥺