#and in addition to good furniture and kitchen things

[flaggermuser]

Pour Some Sugar

1,334 words || AU, Bakerverse timeline, Thinly Veiled Threat, Patriot is her own warning, Baking, Fluff, Sex Mentioned, Patriot/The Deep, Patriot & Reader, Homelander/Reader, Homelander/Baker ||

A little gift for @hom3landr & her Baker - this fits in with her Bakerverse.

Border by Saradika

“Well, don’t you smell sweeter than brown sugar.”

You still the second you hear that distinctive voice, quaking as you slowly begin to turn around, coming face to face with her.

Patriot.

Long blonde tresses cascade over her shoulders, a wolfish grin on her cherry red lips and a fierce look in her captivating blue eyes; she’s the last woman in the world you’d want to be alone with. Homelander hasn’t held back his feelings about the Seven’s newest addition.

“Can I help you?” You ask, trying to stand your ground but shrinking when she steps closer.

“You can. Homelander raves about your baking; I’ve even had a chance to taste your pastries. They were utterly divine, to die for.”

The way her eyes run over you - you’re not sure if she’s here for any other reason than to eat you alive. Either way, you’re terrified of her and, more specifically, her intentions.

“I’m glad you liked them,” your voice shakes, not fully believing the sincerity of the compliment.

“Convinced me that you’d be the perfect person to help me with this little task,” she steps closer.

“You see, I have this ‘family recipe’ from my ‘grandma’,” she says with air quotes. “It’s for sugar cookies, and I want to make them for my Sugar Cookie, but I’m having a problem getting them right.”

Sugar Cookie - her pet name for The Deep.

Another thing Homelander has been incredibly vocal to you about. At Vought Tower, they’ve been very open about their relationship, and from what you’ve heard, it won’t be long until it’s made public, with Vought’s marketing team has been working on the ‘exclusive’.

You notice she starts pouting, and suddenly, you become aware that you’ve not said anything for a while. Whether it’s from fear or because your mind has wandered, you don’t know.

“You will help me, won’t you? It’ll mean so much to him. And I’m sure Prince Charming would be happy to hear that you’ve been so accommodating.”

You nod despite your inner terror, nervously taking the recipe from her hand and reading it carefully. It’s an old recipe from the late 1950s or early 1960s, a period of baking you’re not fluent in, but you’re not a novice either. Yet there’s something about it that bothers you.

It’s her grandma’s recipe? But she was born in a lab?

“It should be easy to make; I can have them ready for you by-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She waggles a finger in your face. “You’re not making them for me; you’re helping me make them. I want him to know I made them for him especially.”

The idea of spending the afternoon helping her bake in your kitchen fills you with nothing but pure dread. This is your safe space, a little paradise where you make delicious baked goods for Homelander. She tilts her head, those unhinged eyes tinged with curiosity.

“How do you feel about flying?”

Patriot’s penthouse is imposing.

The dark green walls and hardwood floors are complimented by tasteful furniture, the exact opposite of what you expected. Despite her earlier question about flying, she didn’t carry you here; you’d been very forthcoming with your fear.

And she’d just… accepted it.

She was more than happy to let you make your own way to Vought Tower, which further exacerbated the unsettling feeling currently taking up residency in your gut.

“There you are! I almost thought you wouldn’t make it.”

She appears almost from nowhere, no longer dressed in her suit but in civilian clothes: checkered pyjama bottoms, a Deep Thought with The Deep tank top, and no bra.

She’s very well endowed.

“Follow me; I’ll show you the kitchen.”

Her kitchen is lavish, the kind of kitchen you’ve dreamed about, fitted with the latest appliances. It would be perfect for opening a bakery, but you know everything here costs more than what you make in a year.

“Don’t be shy,” she coos gently, carefully grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. “You can stand next to me. I don’t bite, well, I won’t bite you.”

She gives you a toothy grin - flashing her teeth nearly threateningly.

All the ingredients are already laid out, and you spy a bin brimming with burnt and malformed cookies. At least she wasn’t lying about her motives to get you here.

“Now, how do we proceed?”

Baking with Patriot has been an eye-opening experience.

You’ve gone from terrified to cordial, something dancing along the border of friendly. Clearly, there is more to Patriot than meets the eye and some vulnerability lingering just below the surface, but that has been kept out of your reach.

“They are perfect!” She squeals, pulling the cookies out of the oven.

You hover behind her, directing her towards the kitchen island and, more importantly, the cooling rack. 

“They’ll need to cool for a little while,” you say, doing your best to hang back and watch while she carefully moves the baking paper from the tray to the rack.

She’s giddy with excitement and very pleased with her work, and her reaction makes your chest swell with pride. You’ve never considered teaching someone else to bake, but from what you’ve seen today, it might be an avenue worth exploring. 

“While they cool, we can start making the-”

You stop midsentence when you see Homelander saunter into the kitchen, his eyes shifting between you and Patriot. He must have smelt the baking or you and come to investigate. He stands there, hands behind his back and a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were going to be in the tower today,” he nearly huffs. “I thought you’d give me a heads up.”

You swallow, preparing your answer, only for Patriot to interject before you begin.

“She didn’t know she was going to be here either,” she rolls her eyes. “I needed some help baking, and seeing as you’re constantly raving about her, I thought I’d ask for expert help.”

‘Expert help’ - that makes you stand straight and proud, still avoiding Homelander’s gaze.

She scoffs, “Drop the betrayed act. She would have told you she was coming but probably didn’t want to worry you. After all, she’s been spending the afternoon with this ‘unhinged, big-titted, airheaded bitch.’”

Now that makes Homelander falter and makes you cringe - it’s probably one of the kinder things he’s called her.

“Look,” she continues, turning her body and looking between you and Homelander. “Once she’s finished here, I’m sure she’ll be happy to spend the evening with you.”

Homelander nods, shooting you a look of concern just as he leaves, glancing at you cautiously while he leaves. He obviously came here not only out of disappointment but also of worry for your safety.

“Now, you were talking about making icing.”

Warily, you enter Homelander’s penthouse with a box full of iced sugar cookies as a peace offering.

You’d usually send him a message when you were heading to the tower, but you’d been so preoccupied with your fear that Patriot was luring you into a dangerous situation that the notion had bypassed you completely. Immediately, you’re pulled into a tight hug, the box hitting the ground.

“I was so worried about you,” Homelander mumbles into your hair. “What possessed you to help her?”

“She came by my apartment and asked… nicely. I was apprehensive about baking with her in my kitchen because that’s where I bake for you.”

He releases you from the hug, only to take your face in his hands and look deep into your eyes. “Just… next time, please let me know. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A kiss on your forehead has you closing your eyes and smiling. His protectiveness warms your heart, and it’s one of the many reasons why you love Homelander.

The little heartfelt moment, however, is ruined by the sounds of animalistic sex coming through the shared wall of Homelander’s penthouse, making you both cringe.

“He liked the cookies then.”

[icryyoumercy]

called two different hospitals about a bill that really shouldn't have ended up with me, emailed disability services to ask about the current state of my case, and in the process of sorting out paperwork for taxes also ended up emailing my employer about the level of my retirement fund

many things have been done and i am proud of myself

[buckets-and-trees]

You're such a wicked menace, Eva!

Title: Insatiable Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 1845

Summary: Your new boyfriend comes along when you pick up the keys for your new apartment and conduct the move-in inspection.

Content Warnings: explicit smut (oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, hint at overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie)

Logistical Notes: Fulfilling my February box for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo event (forehead kiss, fingering). Follows our Desperate couple but can be read as a stand alone piece.

Additional Notes: Honestly I didn't have any plans to return to our rivals-to-lovers couple from Desperate and Uncertain and Sure again so soon, but this gif hit a certain inspiration and may pull from some literal "reader insert" vibes as I'm moving into a new apartment right now... Also thoroughly inspired by this post coming across my dash today thanks to @ghotifishreads.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You couldn’t help the permanent smile on your face.

Yes, moving was going to be a hassle, and you didn’t have a clue how everything was going to fit into this tiny one-bedroom apartment, but being back in the place again, keys officially in your hands, the place really yours, standing in front of the bright living room windows that made your heart sing when you first saw the place, that feeling that this was your place warmed your whole chest again.

It was hard to break away from the light streaming in through the windows, but you turned your head to look at Bucky. “So? What do you think of the place?”

He was new to your life, too.

The kidnapping and rescue in Paris had been only a month ago. Over that month, you and Bucky had been figuring out what the revelation of your feelings for each other meant outside of a life and death situation. Parts of that were easy, other parts were trickier, but nothing that made you want to abandon ship.

“I think it’ll suit you well,” he answered. His smile was soft. You loved seeing this side of him, especially after so many years of angst and rivalry between you.

“You’re practically glowing with excitement,” he added.

Your smile grew to a grin, and you shrugged one shoulder. “It’s smaller than the place I’ve been, but I couldn’t resist all this sunlight.”

You turned around and looked at the empty living room that bled into the kitchen area. “I want to try and measure things and figure out where everything will go before the movers bring the furniture in tomorrow. I’m still worried about whether all my shelves will fit or not.”

You set your bag down on the kitchen counter and began to pull out a measuring tape, the blue painters tape you planned on using to map out the furniture shapes on the floor and rummaged for the hastily scribbled together list you’d made of your furniture dimensions.

Bucky had remained silent – he was often so silent you could forget he was present when you got immersed into something – and you spun back around to see him still in the same position across the room by the windows, studying you.

“What?”

“You know what we have to do before anything else,” he said seriously.

“What’s that?”

He licked his lips.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped.

“Bucky, we can’t–”

He chuckled. “You have the keys, it’s officially your place,” he said, stalking toward you. “We absolutely can.”

Before you could utter another word, he reached for your elbow and tugged you into his arms, planting a sound kiss right on your mouth, swallowing all protest. He coaxed your lips open, and his tongue licked into your mouth, drawing an eager moan from you.

Damn, he was too good at this, you thought as your hands came up to clutch at his back.

He pressed your bodies together, and you were not surprised to feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. One thing you had learned about Bucky over the last month was that he could be ready to have you on the turn of a dime, and he could be insatiable. That your body responded so quickly to him as well was both blessing and curse. Less than a minute and you were melting completely against him, eager for more, and you could feel the slickness already growing at your slit.

Your hands dropped down his back, but only to reach the hem of his sweater before dipping under so your fingers could eagerly climb up against his naked skin. He grinned into the kiss.

With his sweater quickly halfway up his torso, Bucky broke off the kiss momentarily to pull it up and off the rest of the way. Then he coaxed you down to the floor, spreading his sweater down on the hardwood floor and laying you gently on top of it. His body covered yours, and he began kissing you in earnest again, his vibranium arm planted next to your head while his other hand began deftly working at the buttons on the front of your blouse.

It was only another moment or two before he’d pushed your shirt open to bare your torso to him, and Bucky wasted no time in trailing his hot lips down your throat to blaze down your chest, paving a heated path between your breasts, over the band of your bra, and down your stomach. He gave your belly button a playful lick that had you gasping and a giggle bubbling up your throat.

“Bucky!”

He chuckled, and reached down to pull your shoes off as he pressed more kisses over your stomach. Then, with both shoes discarded, he knelt above you to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before pulling them down and off your legs. As your legs came back down on either side of him, his hands skimmed slowly along your inner thighs, and when they reached your core, he pressed one thumb at the base of your clothed slit and brushed it up over the damp cloth of your panties, the other thumb following just after and teasing you again there. You canted your hips up, wordlessly asking for more.

Bucky smirked, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and quickly pulled them off, tossing them to the side as well.

“Please,” you begged.

“Happily,” he whispered, then lowered himself down to wedge his shoulders between your thighs, pressing them wide to accommodate his broad frame. He licked a stripe up your dripping slit, moaning at the taste of you.

Your stomach swam with butterflies and your cheeks heated slightly. You had never been with anyone so unabashedly open with their desire for you as Bucky. He held nothing back when expressing his pleasure, his desire. It was a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, and you it still had you between feeling slightly flustered and drowning further in the depths of how intoxicating it was to know the effect you had on him.

He applied a second, slower lick over your folds, and then he began to kiss your lower lips the way he did your mouth, and your entire body coiled up for him, back arching, hands grabbing for his short hair, legs contracting.

“Bucky, god, yes,” the words tumbled out as you quickly began to lose more and more of your coherence.

But he was slow and torturous in his ministrations. You squirmed for more, but he held your pelvis down with one firm hand, while the other gently caressed your hip. Your fingers found his vibranium ones, and he entwined them with yours and started to fuck your cunt with his tongue.

When he heard a little whine escape from you, he began to suck your clit diligently. The orgasm that he’d been building you toward escaped from you briefly, but the switch picked right up on building that tension again, and he flicked his tongue a few times across your swollen nub as he sucked, and then you cried out as you finally tumbled over the edge of ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your cunt, then shifted up, quickly maneuvering his hands beneath your back to unclasp your bra and pull off your last piece of clothing. It was the only moment of reprieve he gave you, because then his mouth dipped to suck at one of your tits, and one of his hands worked into your folds, slowly stroking in and out of your tight channel. Two fingers curled into your pussy, and he quickly found one of his favorite places – that spongy spot on the front of your walls, knowing he found exactly the spot he needed as you gave a debauched moan. He slipped in a third finger, and as he sucked the hardened nub of your nipple and lapped at it, he worked to rip your second orgasm from your soul more quickly. It was clear nothing was going to deter him from his plans to ruin you in the empty apartment, and you could only be glad you were up on a floor high enough you didn’t risk any neighbors seeing in your open blinds to see the way he was taking you apart right there on the floor.

The second orgasm burst through your body unexpectedly, and it stole the breath from your lungs.

It had ripped through you so powerfully that you didn’t register the clinking sound of his belt buckle coming undone and hitting the floor as he unzipped and pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs.

But you noticed he wasn’t finished with you as he slipped one hand under your thigh and angled your hips to slot the head of his cock between your puffy folds.

You whimpered, fighting to open your eyes and plead your case as you looked into in the depths of his heated blues. Whether you were pleading for him to stop or for more, you really didn’t know or care at this point.

He hitched your leg up around his hip and slowly slid his fat cock fully into your cunt. “So damn good.”

You moaned openly, completely debauched on pleasure at this point, but clearly your pussy wouldn’t refuse him plying you with even more of it.

Deep, slow strokes.

You felt every aching inch of him as he thrust slowly in and out of your tight channel. He still made you stretch around him, and it was exquisite for both of you.

Full, so full.

In and out.

So deep inside of you now, and you could do nothing but make incoherent noises beneath him, gasping for air. “I know, sugar, I know," he murmured into the crook of your neck. "Gonna give us what we both need.”

And he fucking does, as he does every time, using your body as if he’s had you for years. He rewarded you both with an orgasm that truly leaves you boneless and breathless once he finally pushed you over the edge and then sped up his thrusts to chase his own release as your vagina squeezed around his throbbing cock. He groaned as he spilled hot ropes of cum inside of you, thrusting until he’d emptied himself in you completely. Finally, he collapsed on top of you, and pressed kisses into the crook of your neck, then along your jaw, allowing you to try and catch your breath before finally kissing your lips again.

You whined against his lips, and he rolled over, taking you with him, and letting you lay half on his chest, half against his side. He continued to kiss you lazily.

You didn’t know how long he continued to make out with you, but the sun’s rays had shifted significantly once he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you rested your head on his bare shoulder.

“It’s a good floor,” he said, almost mundanely.

You laughed softly.

“We’ll need to check the counters a little later,” he added.  

READ THE NEXT PIECE FOR THIS COUPLE: BIG CONVERSATION

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[dee-writes-smut]

DICENTRAS (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), minor injuries, and Eris being angry.

AUTHORS NOTE annnnnd we are back into the swing of things! I would like to thank you all again for your patience these last few weeks, I am so incredibly grateful to all of you. Anyways, enough of the sappy, enjoy getting your hearts ripped out! :) -Dee

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks passed after that fateful kiss, the atmosphere in the forest house transformed entirely. You had moved into Eris's room, and the space quickly became a haven of warmth and love. Each morning, you would wake in his arms, feeling the solid comfort of his embrace, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over the room. The dawn would break with whispered conversations and soft laughter, the sound of your shared happiness filling the air like a sweet melody.

Eris had taken to placing his hand on your growing belly every morning, feeling the baby's movements with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes. The bond between the two of you deepened with each passing day, and the baby seemed to sense the harmony, responding with gentle kicks and rolls whenever Eris was near. The connection between the three of you was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

You found yourself in a nesting frenzy, driven by an instinctive need to prepare for the baby's arrival. Eris's room, once a bachelor’s retreat with minimalistic decor, transformed under your careful touch. You spent hours arranging and rearranging furniture, making space for a crib beside the bed. The room was soon filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and stuffed animals, all ready to welcome the new addition to your family.

Eris supported your efforts wholeheartedly, often surprising you with thoughtful gestures. He would return from his duties with little gifts—a handcrafted mobile, a beautifully woven blanket, a carved wooden toy—each item chosen with care and love. Your evenings were spent together, organizing the baby's things and talking about the future, your shared dreams of the family you were about to become.

Despite the physical challenges of being 38 weeks pregnant, you found joy in the small moments. You would waddle around the room, humming lullabies as you folded and refolded baby clothes, your heart swelling with love every time the baby kicked in response to your voice. Eris would often catch you in these moments, his eyes softening with adoration as he watched you, a smile playing on his lips.

One particularly memorable evening, you decided to decorate the nursery corner you had set up. Eris had brought home a set of delicate, hand-painted stars to hang above the crib, and you both spent hours arranging them just right, laughing and teasing each other as you worked. By the time you finished, the room had a magical feel, the stars twinkling in the soft light, creating a peaceful haven for your baby.

Life was good, better than you had ever imagined it could be. The love between you and Eris grew stronger with each passing day, a bond forged in trust and mutual respect. The baby thrived within you, their movements a constant reminder of the new life you were about to welcome. The forest house, once a place of secrecy and fear, had become a home filled with love and hope.

But even in the midst of this happiness, a shadow lingered, a secret that weighed heavily on your heart.

Each morning began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows of Eris's room, the warmth of his embrace a welcome start to the day. You would rise with the sun, your movements slow and deliberate as you navigated the space, your growing belly a constant reminder of the new life growing within you.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair, spent in the cozy kitchen of the forest house. The cook, a kindly woman with a penchant for indulging your cravings, would greet you with a warm smile as you entered, her apron stained with flour from her morning preparations. You would exchange pleasantries as you made your way to the table, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.

On this particular morning, however, you found yourself with an insatiable craving for something sweet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you made your way to the kitchens, your footsteps light as you tiptoed down the hallways. The cook greeted you with a knowing smile as you entered, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your predictable craving.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing the day's meals. "What can I do for you today?"

You grinned sheepishly, the anticipation of indulging in your favorite treat making your mouth water. "I was hoping you might have some of those honey cakes you made last week," you said, your voice hopeful as you eyed the display of pastries on the counter.

The cook chuckled softly, her laughter like music to your ears. "Ah, I see someone has a sweet tooth this morning," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm afraid we're all out of honey cakes, but I could whip up a batch of cinnamon rolls if you'd like?"

Your face lit up with delight at the suggestion, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. "That sounds perfect, thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude as you watched the cook set to work.

As you waited for your treat to bake, you found yourself lost in thought, the warmth of the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon filling you with a sense of contentment. But just as you were about to indulge in your freshly baked cinnamon roll, a voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a familiar voice from behind you, the sound sending a jolt of panic coursing through your veins. Turning slowly, you came face to face with Lucien, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. Lucien's presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance sending your carefully constructed facade crumbling to the ground. As he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, you felt a surge of fear wash over you, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you under its weight.

Despite the initial shock of seeing Lucien standing before you, you forced a polite smile onto your lips, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. His presence was unexpected, but you knew that you had to maintain your composure, at least until you could find a way to extricate yourself from the situation.

"Lucien," you greeted him, your voice carefully neutral as you returned his friendly smile. "What a surprise to see you here."

He returned your greeting with a warm smile of his own, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Likewise," he said, his tone light and friendly. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack."

You chuckled nervously at his observation, the sound ringing hollow in your ears. "Oh, you know me," you replied, forcing a casual shrug. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and I couldn't resist the temptation of the cook's cinnamon rolls."

Lucien laughed softly at your explanation, the sound sending a pang of guilt through your chest. "I can't say I blame you," he said, his expression fond as he looked around the kitchen. "The cook here is quite talented."

As he chatted amiably with you, you found yourself falling into the easy rhythm of conversation, your nerves gradually easing as you exchanged pleasantries. He asked you about your journey to the Autumn Court, his curiosity genuine as he listened intently to your explanations.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your lies heavy on your conscience as you spun a tale of seeking adventure and new experiences, carefully omitting any mention of the true reason for your presence in the palace. You told him about your desire to explore the world beyond the borders of the Spring Court, your words carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and keep your secret hidden.

Throughout the conversation, Lucien treated you with the easy familiarity of an old friend, his warmth and charm putting you at ease despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. He seemed genuinely interested in your story, his questions probing but never invasive as he sought to understand the woman you had become since leaving the Spring Court.

But as you glanced down at the oversized shirt you had borrowed from Eris, the bulge of your growing belly hidden from view, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at your conscience. You knew that you were lying to Lucien, betraying his trust with every false word that passed your lips. But in that moment, with his friendly smile and easy laughter, it was all too easy to push aside your doubts and bury yourself in the comforting embrace of deception.

"So, what brings you back to the Autumn Court, Lucien? Is everything going well with Elain?"

Lucien's expression faltered slightly at the mention of his mate, his gaze flickering with a hint of sadness before he composed himself with a small sigh. "I wish I could say that things were going smoothly," he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "But truth be told, Elain and I are facing some… challenges."

He went on to explain the difficulties he was encountering in his relationship with Elain, describing her struggles to adjust to life in the Night Court and the walls she had erected to keep him at arm's length. His words were tinged with frustration and sadness, his love for Elain evident in every syllable as he spoke of his desire to break through her defenses and build a life together.

"But it's not just her walls that I'm contending with," he continued, his voice heavy with concern. "There's another complication, another male who has caught her eye." He spoke of the spymaster of the Night Court, a man whose charm and wit had seemingly captivated Elain, drawing her attention away from Lucien and their fledgling relationship.

As he spoke, you could sense the pain and uncertainty that weighed heavily on Lucien's heart, his struggles with Elain's affections a constant source of anguish. Despite his efforts to win her over, it seemed that she was slipping further away with each passing day, her attention diverted by the allure of another man.

You listened sympathetically to his words, your heart aching for the pain he was experiencing. You could see the depth of his love for Elain, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of her, and it struck a chord deep within you. In that moment, you felt a kinship with Lucien, a shared understanding of the complexities of love and the challenges it presented.

"I'm sorry to hear that things are so difficult with Elain," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine concern. "But know that you're not alone, Lucien. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

“I appreciate that,” Lucien smiled warmly, reaching over to steal a cinnamon roll from your plate before steering the conversation toward lighter subjects.

You found yourself drawn into the easy camaraderie between you and Lucien, the warmth of his presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own thoughts.

But just as you began to relax into the conversation, a shadow fell over the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Eris standing there, his expression dark and stormy. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, the tension in the air palpable as he took in the scene before him.

Lucien, ever the picture of charm and grace, greeted his brother with a casual smile, his tone light and teasing as he joked about your supposed dalliance on Calanmai. You felt the color drain from your face at his words, the implication of his jest hanging heavy in the air.

Eris's eyes narrowed at his brother's words, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. He shot you a long, hard look, his gaze piercing through you like a knife, before turning his attention back to Lucien.

"What are you doing here, Lucien?" Eris asked, his voice cold and clipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a steely edge to his tone, a warning that brooked no argument.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at his brother's question, his expression one of mild confusion. "Just catching up with an old friend," he replied casually, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to Eris. "And what about you? What brings you to the kitchens?"

Eris's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Lucien. "I was looking for her," he said curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "We have matters to discuss."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You glanced at Lucien, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes, before rising to follow after Eris, your heart pounding in your chest.

But as you moved to leave, Lucien's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "Is everything alright?"

You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. And it was then, in that moment of quiet vulnerability, that Lucien's eyes fell upon the telltale swell of your belly, hidden beneath Eris's oversized shirt.

His expression softened, a look of dawning realization crossing his features as he took in the sight before him. "You're pregnant," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and joy. "Congratulations."

You opened your mouth to speak, to correct his assumption and reveal the truth of your situation, but the words caught in your throat. In that moment, with the weight of his gaze upon you and the weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders, you found yourself unable to speak. And so, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded, a silent confirmation of the lie that now hung between you.

As Eris stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing angrily down the corridor, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. Ignoring the discomfort of your heavily pregnant form, you hurried after him as quickly as you could, leaving Lucien to his own divices the oversized shirt you wore billowing around you as you waddled awkwardly down the hallway.

"Eris, wait!" you called out, your voice strained with desperation as you struggled to keep pace with him. "Please, let me explain!"

But he didn't slow down, his strides long and purposeful as he continued to march ahead, his shoulders tense with pent-up frustration. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to catch up to him.

"Eris, please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. "You have to listen to me."

He jerked away from your touch, his expression hardened with anger as he rounded on you, his eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "I've heard enough lies for one day."

Tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words, the sting of his rejection piercing through you like a knife. But you refused to give up, refused to let him walk away without hearing the truth.

"I'm not lying to you, Eris," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment, he wavered, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from you once more, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

"I can't do this right now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I need time to think."

But you couldn't let him leave, not like this. "Please, Eris," you implored, your voice breaking with the weight of your desperation. "I'm so sorry for hiding the truth about Lucien from you, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared of what it would mean for us."

His expression twisted with anger and betrayal as he whirled around to face you. "Scared?" he spat, his voice rising with each word. "Scared of what? That I wouldn't accept you? That I wouldn't love you if I knew the truth?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make him understand. "No, it's not that," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to burden you with my past. I didn't want to ruin what we have."

"What we have?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do we have if it's built on lies?"

"Eris, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much, and I never wanted to hurt you."

For a moment, he stood there, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. Then, with a voice trembling with barely contained rage, he asked the question that had haunted him since the day you first met.

"Who is the baby's father?" he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Tell me the truth, now."

You felt the walls closing in around you, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a vice. With a shuddering breath, you finally gave in, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and regret.

"It's Lucien," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you spoke the name. "Lucien is the father."

Eris's face contorted with a mixture of shock and fury, his eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before. "Lucien?" he repeated, his voice trembling with the force of his anger. "You mean to tell me that my brother is the father of your child?"

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your heart breaking as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eris. Please, you have to believe me. I love you, and I need you. We need you."

He shook his head, his face a mask of anguish as he took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from the reality of your words. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be with you, knowing that your child belongs to Lucien."

"No," you pleaded, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I love you, Eris. More than anything in this world."

For a moment, he stood there, torn between the love he felt for you and the betrayal that now threatened to tear you apart. Then, with a voice heavy with resignation, he spoke the words that you had feared most.

"I need time," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I need time to figure out what this means for us."

As Eris walked away, each step echoing like a death knell, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair wash over you. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, the hard stone pressing painfully into your knees. Sobs of agony tore from your throat, each one more heart-wrenching than the last, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor. Your cries were raw, primal, a manifestation of the unbearable pain and heartache consuming you.

"Eris," you choked out between sobs, the name a desperate plea that went unanswered. The world around you blurred as tears streamed down your face, the reality of his departure sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. You felt utterly alone, the emptiness around you a stark contrast to the love and warmth you had shared with him.

Lost in your grief, you didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A warm hand touched your shoulder gently, and you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see Lucien kneeling beside you, his expression one of deep concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Are you hurt?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, replaced by another wave of sobs. Lucien's eyes flickered with understanding and sympathy as he helped you to your feet, his grip strong and reassuring.

"Come on," he said gently, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand. "Let's get you to the medical wing. We need to make sure you and the baby are okay."

You nodded weakly, allowing him to lead you down the corridor. Your mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, each step feeling like an eternity. The journey to the medical wing passed in a blur, the world around you a hazy amalgamation of sounds and shapes.

The healers quickly took you in, their hands skilled and efficient as they checked your knees and examined the baby. Through it all, Lucien stayed by your side, his presence a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. His eyes were filled with concern, his hand never leaving yours as the healers worked.

"She's okay," one of the healers finally said, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Just a bit of bruising on the knees. The baby is perfectly healthy."

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly overshadowed by the gnawing pain in your heart. Lucien helped you back to your feet, his touch gentle as he guided you out of the medical wing.

"Let's get you back to your rooms," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "You need to rest."

You hesitated, the thought of returning to the room you had left weeks ago filling you with dread. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Eris's room. Across from mine."

Lucien nodded, understanding in his eyes as he led you to Eris's chambers. As you approached the door, a sense of foreboding washed over you. With a trembling hand, you pushed the door open, your heart sinking at the sight that greeted you.

The room was empty. Eris's belongings were gone, the space devoid of any trace of him. It was as if he had never been there at all. You felt a fresh wave of despair crash over you, the reality of his departure hitting you like a physical blow.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "He can't be gone."

Lucien's expression turned grim as he looked around the room, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of support. "I'm so, so sorry."

You sank to your knees once more, the weight of your grief too much to bear. Lucien knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart. "You’re not alone. We'll get through this together."

But even as his words offered a small measure of comfort, you couldn't shake the feeling of profound loss. Eris was gone, and the world felt a little colder, a little darker, without him by your side.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006

[ellieslittlewh0re]

Temptations - stepsister! ellie x fem reader

wk- 3.5k

summary- reader and ellie visit home for the summer after their time away at collage

additional tags: IM SORRY!! I know this is pushing it but it can’t be inc*st if they’re not blood related right? 🙃, reader is Joel’s bio daughter, sarah doesn’t exists in this bc I said so, ellie is adopted, rocker! ellie, band! ellie, loser! ellie, perv! ellie, weed! mention, ellie is kinda awful in this, like typical f*ck boy beat, reader and ellie are polar opposites so they kinda don’t get along, reader is a overachiever, ellie is a deadbeat, nothing too crazy happens in this part, masturbation! warning (ellie), no physical description of reader, mutual pinning and gay longing etc…

part 1 - part 2

psa!! I know this isn’t for everyone!! If you don’t like it, don’t read it!! 🥰

——————————————————————————

The sweltering blaze of the summer Texas sun made my thighs stick to the leather seat of my 97' Buick as I exited the car.

I looked up at the pale yellow house, peeled siding, and a crooked white picket fence hugging the perimeter. It was familiar. It was home. Memories, good and bad, rested in the floorboards.

I stood in the driveway, the strap of my tank loosely hung off my shoulder, backpack slung over one arm, and the other weighed down by a suitcase.

"Hey- kiddo! You're late."

A man shouted from the front porch, waving his hand excitedly.

"I know. I'm sorry. Traffic was bad moving' through Houston." I gave the old man an apologetic smile as he met me halfway, pulling me in for a familiar embrace of musk and pine.

"Jus' glad you made it safe, is all. Dinners on the table. Hope yer hungry- I think I made too much." Joel gave me a smile, the wrinkles on his face looked deeper than I remembered.

He escorts me into the house, taking my bags from me and relieving me of the extra weight.

The house looks the same, but at the same time different. Smaller maybe? The furniture was in the same positions, the walls the same color, although slightly faded from the years.

"Can you go get yer sister? Tell her supper s' ready." The man asks as he turns to the staircase off the entry, bags in hand to put them in my old bedroom.

I tense, my body physically rejecting the idea of my sister- well, step sister.

I was hoping to make it here before she did, give me a few hours of peace before she'd ultimately ruin it.

When Ellie came into this family, it didn't take long for me to become jealous. She quickly clicked with Joel, bonding with him over things that he took an interest in; building shelves, working on cars, hell, even playing guitar.

It's not like I thought my dad loved Ellie more or anything. I knew I'd always be his little girl that got perfect grades and stayed out of trouble, but seeing how his face lit up when Ellie was by his side, grease smeared on her cheek made me heart seare.

I start to head up the stairs, following Joel's lead when I remembered she hasn't slept up there since she was a kid.

During Ellie's angsty teen years, she had begged Joel for days to let her move her bedroom in the basement, claiming "a growing girl needs her own space."

Joel always shot her down, but Ellie wouldn't let up. One night when I couldn't sleep, I got out of bed to get something to drink only to be met with Ellie's 16 year old string bean self pushing her mattress over the railing, and ever since then, the basement has been her territory.

I turn, slowly waking towards the door off of the kitchen that led to said basement, not a hint of enthusiasm in my step.

I creaked open the heavy door, and the wooden steps creaked beneath my feet with each step. Sounds of electronic gunshots and disgruntled curses grew louder as I reached the bottom.

I extend my neck around the corner of the cement room, clothes and empty cans scattered on the floor, music and movie posters filling every inch of the wall surface.

"Els...Ellie." I repeat her name, but she doesn't acknowledge it, her focus never straying from the first person shooter game on the tv. The LED lights that outlined the room turned the space into a purple hue.

My patience wearing thin, I yell her name one last time.

"What?!" Ellie huffed, tearing off the headset that covered her ears and looked at me.

"Dinner is ready." I said plainly, rolling my eyes before going back up the stairs.

"What? I don't even get a hello?"

Ellie yells from her still seated position, a cockiness tingled on her lips.

I scoff, rolling my eyes even harder even if she couldn't witness it. I picture that familiar smug smirk on her face that she had whenever she was trying to piss me off, and it was working.

Ellie loved toying with you like this since you were 16, and she was 17, poking and prodding at you as she sat back, and watched you get worked up. Ellie would never admit it to you, but she loved how no matter how little she tried to rile you up; you'd always bite.

"How's yer classes going? Likin' your teachers alright?" Joel asked between bites of his burger, his eyes glancing at me and over to Ellie, more specifically towards Ellie.

"Good... yeah, everything's good." I nod towards him, giving him a sincere smile to assure him.

Joel winked, smiling back like he knew he could count on me when it came to that sort of thing.

Ellie didn't respond, too busy shoving food in her face which made Joel kick her under the table, jolting her attention away from her plate.

"Ow! What the hell?" Ellie yelled, throwing her hands up.

"Yer classes, Ellie. How are you doin'?" The man asked, a seriousness overtaking his tone.

Ellie groaned, throwing her head back over the top of the wooden dining chair.

"They're fine. Stop worryin'." Ellie gave him a glare before diverting her attention back to her food.

I watch her from across the table, my legs crossed as I quietly ate which was the complete opposite of her.

Ellie's elbows rested on the oak table, her body slightly hunched as she devoured every last bite like she was a starved animal.

I stood at the sink, washing a cup when I felt a hand grab my hip from behind.

"Sorry- here's another one." Ellie talked into my neck, her fingers digging into my hip slightly. Her chest brushed against my back, and her lips too close to my neck. It felt suffocating.

I hadn't realized her presence had me washing the same cup for the entire interaction.

"Hey, Ellie-"

Joel's voice boomed, interrupted into the kitchen, causing Ellie to push herself away quickly.

Joel stood in the archway, his forearm coming up to lean against it.

"I haven't been down in the basement for a long time- please sleep upstairs. I don't need ya gettin' bit by a widow or somthin'."

Ellie groaned, her eyes lolling back into her skull, but she didn't argue.

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

Dinner was long over. Joel retreated into his bed room for the night, placing a kiss on the top of my head before doing so.

I was sitting on the couch; the tv show I was watching was the only source of light that illuminated the main floor.

It was quiet and peaceful, Ellie had gone back down to her dungeon shortly after dinner, playing video games by the sounds of it.

My quiet was disturbed as the heavy basement door swung open, revealing a homely looking Ellie. Her sweatpants hung low on her hips, checkered green and blue boxers peaking above the waistband, and black wifebeater that snugged her torso.

"Isn't past your bed time, young lady?" Ellie teased as she opened the fridge, pulling out a beer before lazily making her way to the living room.

"Who cut your hair, Hellen Keller?" I snapped right back, a smirk on my lips as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Oh- ha. Ha. You're funny."

Ellie pulled a lighter out of the pocket of her pants, using the top to pop open the cap of the brown bottle.

Her chuckle was low and raspy as she brought the rim of the bottle to her lips, her head dipping back as she swallowed the liquid.

Ellie had changed a lot since the last time I saw her, almost two years ago. Her hair is shorter, choppier, and a darker shade of brown, almost black.

Ellie is also taller and more muscular like she really grew into herself. Her face has hardened, her cheeks and jaw more apparent than before.

I sneak peeks at her, looking her over and familiarize myself with my step sisters new look. My eyes travel down to the dark green-blue ink that covered her forearm, a moth with fern leaves. It was pretty, almost too delicate looking compared to her, but it suited her.

My eyes scale down further to her hands, long fingers and a prominent veins that curved along. I have to give it to her, she always had beautiful hands.

"Take a picture it will last longer."

Ellie's voice jolted me out of my trance, my head quickly turning back to the tv.

I try to think of something- anything to cover my tracks.

"Don't get cocky- I was looking at your tattoo. It's nice... who did it?"

Ellie lifted her arm, turning it over to observe it.

"My ex. She bought a tattoo gun online and needed someone to practice on." Ellie said nonchalantly, shrugging before looking back up at the tv.

"Well- she did good. Why is she your ex now? You should've kept her around and gotten tatted up." I ask with genuine interest.

Ellie shrugged, taking another sip of her beer.

"Dunno- We kinda just fell out? Plus she caught me with another chick and freaked out." Ellie stated, not a hint of guilt after just admitting she's a cheater.

Somehow it didn't surprise me after all the girls she'd bring home after school. I'd see the same girl come over a few times within the week, only for the girl to be replaced by a different girl, and the cycle continued like that until she left for college.

"You think your big sis is a bad person now?" Ellie asked, a grin on her lips and she took another sip.

"It doesn't make me think of you any differently." I lied. It did make me think of her differently; I started to imagine what her sex life was like.

What's so great about her? That had these girls constantly following her home like a lost puppy. Surely, it's not her sunshine personality.

My mind flicks back to her hands, my eyes still glued to the tv. Her long and rough, calloused fingers must be the magic touch.

Ellie hummed at my response unconvincingly. The light from the tv illuminated the freckles on her cheeks and nose.

"The fuck are we watching anyways? Some cheesy reality show? Wait- is this the gay one?"

Ellie's voice piqued in interest, her back shimming further back into the cushion to her comfortable.

"Um- yeah, why?"

I ask, side eyeing her, not really understanding what the big deal was.

********

The big deal was; Ellie never knew if you were into girls; or not. She tried to figure it out for years, carefully observing the people you brought home for school. You didn't make it easy, and truthfully you were kinda a loner, only having a few close friends that you'd invite over.

Although there was that one time; you came home from school with a different girl that Ellie had never seen before, and when Ellie tried introducing herself, you quickly took the mystery girl's hand in yours and ran upstairs, locking the two of you in your bedroom.

Ellie fought herself over it for a long time, trying to picture you with a girl. She wondered if you had kissed another girl, held another girl's hand, and it drove Ellie fucking insane.

Ellie had a dark secret that she wouldn't dare say out loud and definitely would never let you know about it.

Ellie started thinking about you a lot after you turned 16, and they were almost never innocent thoughts. When you turned 16 it was like Aphrodite came down to earth and blessed you herself.

Ellie wasn't proud that she had these thoughts, I mean, you were her little sis after all, but it didn't stop her from picturing you whenever she fucked random college girls in the fraternity bathrooms.

********

Ellie shushed my question, motioning for me to turn it up and I do.

Four episodes in, both of us were dead silent as we watched the horror that is reality tv dating shows. We shared glances at each other whenever one of the cast members said something outrageous, but other than that, we just watched and enjoyed the presence of one another.

It was getting late, my eyes grew heavy and harder to keep open.

"Alright- it's gettin' late, and I have to shower still. Pick this up tomorrow?" I pause the tv and stand up with a yawn.

Ellie pleaded for one episode, holding her hands in a prayer. I stand my ground, promising her we can binge it tomorrow and that seemed to work.

We go up the stairs, Ellie following close behind as we mumble goodnights to each other before we go into our designated bedrooms.

I rummage through my suitcase, pulling out a over sized t-shirt and underwear.

I turn on the light in the bathroom, closing the door, but not all the way. It was a bad habit that I never grew out of, leaving the bathroom door open a few inches whenever I took a shower or bath. I did it because growing up, I was terrified of the bathroom, scared I'd get locked in and somehow the lights go out, and the grudge lady would be hiding in the shower.

I slip off my jeans and my tank, dropping them to the floor and turn on the water. I wait, holding my hand under the stream until the temperature was up to my standards.

I get in, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles from sitting in a car all day. I felt the tenseness of my shoulders relax and my heart rate slowing down to a more relaxed pace.

***********

Ellie laid in bed, her arm folding under her head as the springs in the mattress poked her back. She scrolled through various apps, checking social media, playing games and repeating.

The sound of the water running in the room down the hall could be heard faintly in Ellie's old bedroom. The walls were still painted a dark shade of blue, with doodles of planets and rockets hand painted by Ellie herself.

Joel couldn't bring himself to paint over them.

The joint (or a few joints) Ellie smoked after dinner; was starting to kick in and made her crave some sort of barbaric concoction.

Pickles with peanut butter, maybe?

Ellie sighed, lifting her myself from the bed lazily, scratching the back of her neck before she turned the nob.

Ellie entered the long stretch of the hall, passing your bedroom the illuminated with a soft pink hue. Coming up on the bathroom, she paused.

At first, she wanted to tease you, to scold you for still keeping the bathroom open when you showered. You weren't a little kid anymore, and you needed to grow up in Ellie's mind.

On the other hand, Ellie was intrigued. She found herself peeking through the gap, the steamed glass door of the shower made it hard to make out details, but it was enough.

She felt wrong about it. One part of her was pulling her body away, telling her to stop looking, but the other part of her (the more fucked up part) couldn't look away.

Her eyes trailed up the profile of your body; pausing momentarily at points of interest.

Ellie didn't know it at the time, but she was biting down on her lip hard as she looked at the curve of your ass, plump and full, and the way your tits sat so high and perky.

Her hand coming down to cup her cunt, rolling her wrist against her clit. A moan escapes her lips as she continued to watch.

The sound of the water shutting off made Ellie snap back to her senses. She quickly backed away from the door and as quickly and quietly, as she could, made her way back to her bedroom and shut the door.

She fell into the mattress, taking a deep and shaky breath as she realizes what she's done. A wave of guilt washed over her- no, more like a tsunami. You were her step sisters, and even worse you've know eachother since Ellie was 14 and you were 13. You practically grew up together, but how would've Ellie known you'd grow into that.

Ellie couldn't deny she thought you were beautiful. Not just the fake, superficial type of beauty, but naturally, you were breathtaking to her, and your body matched.

As Ellie conflicted with herself, she continued to picture you. She imagined what you looked like underneath her, what you sounded like when she was splitting you open.

The guilt was replaced by lust and hormones, but mostly; lust.

Her hand crept down to the hemp of her boxers, slipping inside. Her other hand grabbed the bottom of her tank and brought it up to hold between her teeth- leaving her breasts exposed.

Ellie's fingers glided along her folds, coating them in her slick. She teased her entrance, rubbing gentle circles around her clit.

"Fuuuck- look what you do t' me, y/n" Ellie stifled a moan, dropping the fabric from her teeth as her middle finger sunk into her pussy, pumping in and out, slowly.

She moaned your name; over and over, adding another finger and quickening the pace.

The scene was honestly pathetic. Ellie's sweats and boxers tugged down to her knees, not bothering to take them off completely. Her breasts were the only thing holding the tank up, her hardened nipples- red and swollen as she harshly tugged at them.

"Fuu- your s-so wet, baby. You like when I fuck you like this? Huh?" Ellie babbled and stuttered, gritting through her teeth as she reached closer to her peak.

She pictured this is what you felt like as she sunk her fingers inside, curling against the spongy walls, hitting the spot that made you squirm with each pump.

She wanted to hear you beg, wanted to hear you say her name over and over until it didn't sound like a word anymore.

"Fuu-fuckin' bitch- d-dirty fuckin' whore-" Ellie curses, jaw slacked and her eyebrows furrowed upwards. Her rhythm became jagged as her hips bucked upwards, fucking herself through her orgasm.

Ellie panted, sprawled across the bed as bolts of electricity continued to send shock waves through her body.

Her inner thighs glistened, her breasts malled and violated.

It was official, Ellie had hit a new level of fucked up, but that's okay as long as you never find out.

It's not like you had your ear pressed against the wall as soon as you heard strange noises coming from your step sisters bedroom.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Baby Addams.

Pairing: MaleWednesday x reader.

Warning: Mention of kidnapping, Mention of forced marriage, pregnancy, Yandere Male Wednesday. Gomez and Morticia from 1991. (poor transition Spanish and Italian) If you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me nicely thank you.

Summary: You were Wednesday's wife, with a baby on the way. (sorry summary sucks)

A/n: This is inspired by the story Yandere male Wednesday , by @teresalace I asked her permission so yea. Check out the story.

Three years, since you met Wednesday, Three years, since he took you away from everything you knew, Three years since you were married into the Addams family, and finally Wednesday had got what he wanted like he always did. You were pregnant, carrying a new addition to your husband's family. Gomez and Morticia were overjoyed about the news.

It was a dim, gloomy morning, and the massive black blanket lay on your growing stomach "Mi alma, wake up." a monotone voice whispered in your ear as you slowly opened your eyes, his plump lips kissed your shoulder, tracing down your arm to your wedding ring, sweet nothing whisper in Italian in Wednesday's normal deadpan voice before he sighed "My parents are coming." As he getting out of the king bed.

You sighed and sat up as best as you can with a six-month baby bump, the room was dark in aesthetic and semi-normal, with hints of white and a little red amongst the black. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the large custom guillotine that hung above the bed, which luckily was unable to move, You had to convince and seduce Wednesday for that to happen.

Getting up from bed was somewhat difficult, but you managed to waddle to your shared walking closet, black and bright, warm colors were separated down the middle of the metal bar. You quickly showered and threw on a blue maternity dress, earrings to match, and a necklace. The walk downstairs was a little hard even when Wednesday helped, your home was gothic victorian style like your in-laws but less big. Swords, old timely guns, and torture devices littered the walls as while as mirrors, the rugs were dead animals. The furniture was you guessed black and white with red, and some armor and statues stood around the living room.

You both headed to the kitchen; It was a modern kitchen that your husband allowed you to decorate, the only rule? It had to be in his aesthetic which you took. Wednesday leads you to the kitchen island and helped you onto the dark wooden counter stool "Good morning Wednesday" you smiled at him tiredly ready to break the silence "Yes, it is quite a bad morning today." he hummed and sat a glass of water down in front of you and began to make you breakfast. Despite being tricked into this marriage, he was a good husband, dare you say the best; yes, he's..well, him, he never made you feel unloved and was surprisingly romantic. The apple didn't fall that far from the tree, though he wasn't over-expressive with his displays of affection. A loud shriek rang out, making you jump. "I hate that doorbell," you whispered as you took a bit of your breakfast that he put down. "I will get it, Mi Alma" he walked out of the kitchen to the front door, Wednesday inhaled, and opened the door. His dad held a brown box, and his mother smiled at him. "Our boy." She cooed, opening her arms in a grand gesture "Mother, Father. It is a displeasure to see you." Wednesday acknowledged looking boredly between his parents, then sharply turned and walked back to the kitchen; Gomez and Morticia headed to the living room, the door eerily closing behind them.

You swallowed the last bit of food when Wednesday walked in "Come." he offered his arm, you locked your arm his and hopped off the stool.

"There's the woman who stole our son's black, dead heart and hunts his every tortured thought!" Gomez exclaimed loudly as you walked into the living room, earning a threatening "Father." from Wednesday which Gomez ignored. "Hello dear." Morticia gracefully walked to you, almost appearing to be floating "How far along now?" She asked, smiling at you. "Six mouths." You smiled back "We wanted to give you this." She looked back at Gomez, who held up the box. "Shell, we look through it together?" She asked pulling you away from Wednesday and to the floor where Gomez sat the box. Morticia opened it and took out stuff one by one "Here's Wednesday Teddy when he was just a little boy." She cooed and passed you a black teddy with stitches, the head ripped off "Cute.." you grimace, sitting it beside you. She pulled out kid-sized knives and swords. "Oh, this was his favorite toy!" She pulls out a toy guillotine, big enough to chop off a finger or a Barbie's head. 'So the obsession started during childhood. great.' you stared at it hopelessly.

"Son." Gomez touched Wednesday's shoulder, both of them watching their wives interact with each other, one with joy and the other hiding her disdain poorly. Gomez only got a side-eye look from his son, letting his father know he was listening, eyes back onto you "Let's talk." Gomez pat Wednesday's back and walked across the living to the hallway. Wednesday huffed and walked out.

"What do you so desperately need to talk about?" Wednesday stared his father down, wanting to be back within your essence "Son..are you sure she's the one for you? She doesn't scream...Addams material." "Are you saying you disapprove of her?" "Not exactly-" "Because if you are," Wednesday took a step closer to the older Addams "You will never see me or my children. She is my every soul, she cut open my heart and made me bleed for her. I would walk through heaven and back to please her. I would kill for her," his eyes narrowed "Even if it means you." a pregnant silence fell upon the two. If it was a cartoon you would be able to see a row of dots typing above their heads. Gomez grinned and shook his son back and forth. "You have truly found your own Morticia!" he laughed, swung his arm around the tensed Wednesday, and walked back into the room.

You yawned as you laid back into the bed; your in-laws stayed until the dark of the night arrived. Though weird, they were a joy to be around; the love they shared, you had wished for since you were little. You had gotten it from a man who rarely showed emotion, but love doesn't have to be over the top; love could be quiet yet meaningful and coming from someone like your husband. It was more special.

"Are you ready Mi alma?" Wednesday asked, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting on your head; you tiredly nodded as the lights of the room were turned off by themselves; in the stillness of the dark and at the edge of sleep, you whispered a "Te amo." Wednesday allows his lips to curl upward just a bit in the safety of the night "Ti Amo"

Transition

Mi alma.

My soul.

Te amo.

I love you.

Ti amo.

I love you in Italian.

[mvltisstuff]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well, how have finals been going/gone??

i saw your post asking for requests, and i know the last thing i sent you you said it was fine to send more but i didn’t wanna overwhelm you with finals and everything going on, but since you’re asking, ofc i have more 😂 i was thinking something with reader being athena’s apprentice again and this time the reader gets hurt on a case and buck as to be called and goes full blown protective and everyone’s like “where did this come from considering how reckless you are” and that’s when everyone realizes how real things are with them and that reader is end game for buck. ofc if you don’t get to it, don’t worry. if you do, thank you a thousand. i hope you have a lovely day and things go well, just in general ❤️

-🚒

must be love - e.b

summary: request from above :)

evan buckley x reader

a/n: finals are going well!! i just finished my state testing 😿 but luckily it wasn’t too bad. i have like a week left of school and then i’ll be writing a ton, and i love love love seeing people leave requests <33 hope you enjoy love

y/n roamed through the halls of the dark house, with her gun up, flashlight on, and her eyes focused on her surroundings. she had gone in without backup, but athena was on her way to the scene as well as a few more units. the call had been sent into dispatch for an armed robbery, so clearly y/n had to be armed too. she had turned her radio off, not to make the intruder more threatened by the police presence.

she had been searching the bedrooms, the kitchen, and other rooms that had been marked off with valuables this person might be interested in. the homeowner had already made his escape out, so now it was just a matter of time for them to find the person who caused this. the last room y/n had entered, she was hoping to find someone, but alas, there hadn’t been any traces.

in the hallway, the man tracing her steps had been following her throughout the house, strategically hiding behind her in ways that she would never have noticed. she had been pointing her gun and light at the walls and under the furniture when she felt a massive blow to the head.

her vision was faded and blurred as she whipped around with her gun. disoriented, he was able to swing it out of her grip and across the floor. the robber landed clean punches to her abdomen and scratches to her face. she heard a crack to her shoulder, but she knew it hadn’t been broken. it still hurt like a bitch, for sure.

y/n’s strong, but vulnerable body had been thrown against the wall and slid down. the criminal wasn’t done, but the shiny pocketknife on his side did not pass by y/n’s smart eyes. she grabbed his side and opened it swiftly, jamming it into his thigh. he screamed out in pain, and y/n twisted the knife before pulling it out.

out of the corner of her blurry eyes, y/n had spotted a figure making her way toward the two of them. her eyes were squinted from the pounding headache she had been facing. the faint, familiar voice came in as the woman bent down with a jangling pair of cuffs. “dispatch, this is 727-L30, suspect in custody, we’re going to need an additional ambulance at 1873 Garden Street,” says athena into her radio.

“thena…” y/n whispers.

“hey, y/l/n,” she responds. “you got this guy good.” another officer comes in and hauls the man away and it is just athena and y/n in the room. “are you alright, y/n?” athena says sternly.

“i’m fine, i just-“ y/n starts to stand up, and athena grabs onto her. her legs wobbly a bit and she words get mushed together.

“ok well, i don’t think so. we have an ambulance on the way.”

y/n sits back down and nods, looking at her with tired eyes, still fighting to stay away. successfully, she is able to make it until the two paramedics come into the house. she sees hen and chimney walk in with their medical bags.

“what do we got he- y/n?” chimney asks, bending down and observing his friend. hen shines a light to her eyes.

“probable concussion,” she touches her shoulder, making her hiss and cry out a bit. “and maybe a shoulder dislocation, posterior.”

“let’s get her en route to hollywood presbyterian,” chimney says, getting ready for transport.

after y/n was dropped off the at hospital, she was placed in her own, quiet room. hen and chim and arrived back at the station, prepared to face bucks wrath. they walked upstairs to the kitchen, meeting bobby who had already been informed on the incident by athena.

buck had been sitting at the table with eddie and ravi, hanging out and snacking at a bowl of popcorn. they had been bickering over some silly thing when bucks eyes landed on the partners. he immediately knew something was wrong, and his brain landed to y/n. their upset faces gave it away.

“what happened?” buck asks, hesitantly, not wanting a bad answer. “is y/n ok?”

“she… she was hurt, buck,” hen begins to state. “one of her calls took a bad turn-“

buck shoots out of his chair, stepping closer to her. “what do you mean went wrong?” he raises his voice. “where is she?”

“she’s at the hospital buck, but she is alright,” chimney says. “you don’t have to panic-“

“what hospital?”

“buck, slow down…”

“i asked what hospital?!”

the two exchange a sad glance, and tell him, “hollywood presbyterian.”

buck immediately is ready to leave, preparing to speed to the hospital. he always gets scared when he gets a call or text from her. because buck doesn’t know what he would do if she got hurt, or worse. she was his lifeline. every day she was there for him with a smile, forcing him to paint his own. she was brighter than the sun to him, and without her, the clouds had rolled in. even thinking about losing her sent him into a spiral of negative thoughts.

he had met her at a dinner with athena and bobby, and he was smitten for her ever since. the months and months of them seeing each other and blossomed into a stronger love than they could’ve imagined. buck can’t see himself with anyone but her.

“hey, kid,” bobby says. “i’m going too, i’ll drive you over.”

the ride to the hospital was eerily silent. bucks thoughts were flooding his mind about how hurt she could be. he had been prepared to finally leave and end his shift at work, but instead was bombarded with fear. if there was a phobia of losing her, buck definitely has it.

he sprinted into the entrance of the hospital, bobby was trailing behind. he stormed up to the front desk and spat out her name rapidly. the nurse said, “i’m sorry sir, but only family can see loved ones at this time.”

buck shook his head, and looked at bobby. he didn’t want to have to lie, but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. “fiancé, i’m her fiancé.” the nurse looks at bobby.

“uh, uncle?” he says unsure, but the nurse still accepts it and gives them a room number.

buck pounds on the elevator buttons, stepping into it his with his heart pounding. his shaking hands are pressed together to stop his anxiety, but it ultimately fails. bobby watches buck quietly, observing his frazzled state.

the doors slide open, and buck runs through the hallways passing by the nurses and other people. he looks at all the room numbers that mean nothing to him until he finds the next. the one with the love of his life inside.

his features soften as he looks at y/n’s sleeping body. her arm was wrapped up with a few bandages on her face. she looked oddly peaceful, which scared buck. however, the calm beeping of the machine helped him slow down. he walked further in to see athena sitting across from the bed. he walked up to y/n and saw her eyes lightly fluttering in her sleep. he sat down on the bed next to her, grabbing her hand and kissing it lightly.

“the doctor said she’s going to be perfectly fine,” athena reassures him. “she’s just sleeping now. she’ll be going home tomorrow.”

buck let out a breath that had been weighing his shoulders down. he looks at his girlfriends fragile form and observes the injuries to her face. he runs his fingers over a few of the cuts and bruises, but he finds comfort in knowing that they’ll heal. when athena mentions that she’ll be home, he smiles a bit. he knows that she’ll come home to her, and he swears there is no better feeling. “i’m just… i’m really happy she’s ok,” he looks over to athena. “thank you.”

she nods lightly before saying, “she’s a real fighter, wasn’t going to let that guy take her down with him.”

“this was so dangerous. give me five minutes with this guy.”

“buck, you know you’re the most reckless person i know. you two will be a good match, protecting each other.”

the night rolls into the hospital, breaking the day and releasing the moon. outside had become darker, and athena and bobby had been watching buck gently handle y/n. she had woken up for a bit, and had been talking to buck and had a bright smile on her face. bucks was almost identical out of relief and happiness.

the couple had been watching buck all night. they’d never seen him so in love with someone. they knew they were perfect together and that she was the center of his universe. buck needed her, and she saved him and pulled him out of some of his lowest times. it reminded them of themselves. athena saved bobby, and y/n was doing the same to buck.

“you got the guy, right?”

“of course we did, thanks to you and that little knife,” athena says.

“how did they let you all in? it’s not visiting hours, is it?”

“oh you know,” buck starts. “just told them a white lie.”

they all know that they aren’t engaged, but there’s no use in pretending that it won’t be a reality in time. at the end of the day, buck knows he told the truth to that nurse.

“i told them i was an uncle, but i think i could’ve gotten away with brother, no?”

“oh, bobby, bless your soul,” athena laughs, placing a loving hand on bobby’s shoulder. “you should get some more rest, you’ll be back in no time, sweetie.” the pair leaves, and y/n and buck remain in the room.

“go back to sleep, baby,” buck says, planting a kiss on her cheek. “i’m not going anywhere, i don’t know what i’d do without you. you bring out the best in me.”

“i love you, too, buck. so much,” she says and he places his hands on the sides of her face. holding her hand throughout the night, she dozes back off. a safe sleep, because buck is always there next to her.

[ken-dom]

Lingered Lips

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

7.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: When you move from a warmer climate into the house next door to Gus and Karin during winter, Lars helps you to keep warm, and to feel a little more at home in the process.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: This is for my pal @webbo0 who deserves all the warmth and comfort Lars would be able to give (that's a lot). I hope this is something close to what you imagined ! Thank you to my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading and encouraging endlessly! Title from Holding Your Hand by Yung Bae.

∘₊✧ Please note: The story has two possible endings. If you want fluff and kissing with some suggestive bits only, stop when you reach the break in the text (indicated with a photo set), 5.5k. If you want to end on a spicy note, there is an optional NSFW scene after, 1.6k.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: Fluff, homesickness, kissing, heated making out, lots of touching, nervous Lars. In the additional scene; NSFW, dry humping, touching over clothes, cumming in pants.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

To say there’s a chill in the air is an understatement. Somehow, it seems the inside of the house is colder than the outside. It had been left empty for a good few days before you arrived today with a moving truck full of your worldly belongings, but even so, feeling your fingertips turn numb, you never imagined you’d feel the chill this much.

An uncomfortable question flashes through your mind; Have you done the right thing?, but, already engaged in an internal battle to keep homesickness at bay, you force yourself to think about how you’d not had much of a need for thick duvets and firewood before, reminding yourself that you will adapt. That it will all be worth it. That the cold will soon feel like home.

The house is nice, and you know that once it warms through properly it will feel cosy and homely, even if right now it’s an empty shell of a building waiting for your stamp. But it’s getting there. You can already picture yourself settling down in front of a roaring fire with a blanket and a slice of pie.

You sigh at the fireplace. You have no means to build a fire, and even if you did, where do you begin? Instead, you settle with lighting a few candles you found with a book of matches in the box marked ‘KITCHEN’ in a futile attempt to create a feeling of warmth.

Once you begin the process of dragging furniture around and unpacking boxes that, despite being labelled perfectly well before the move seem to be all out of order again, you generate a little heat as the rooms begin to take shape.

After a while (you’ve no idea how long; you’ve misplaced your phone in the bubblewrap and the clocks are currently hidden in an unopened box, but it’s long since been dark out) you grow tired of organising your things and decide rest is in order. If only that fireplace was roaring and there was a freshly baked pie on the kitchen counter…

You reluctantly blow the candles out, wolf down a couple of the cookies you’d packed for the road, and shiver yourself to sleep under a couple of thin blankets, planning to venture into the town tomorrow and purchase a few items to help you adapt to your new climate a little more comfortably.

****

You’d not yet had time to hang drapes, so when morning arrives, with it comes the sharp winter sun flooding your bedroom, disturbing your dreams and pulling you back to the cold reality you’d fallen asleep in.

You stretch, gradually taking in your new surroundings, and start your day by finding some warmer clothes and a pair of boots packed into one of your overflowing suitcases. 

You step outside to appreciate the crisp covering of snow. It crunches beneath your feet, and you think you could get used to that.

There’s a little parcel a few feet from your doorstep, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. Looking around for a sign of who might have left it and seeing no one, you pick it up to carry inside. It’s heavier than you anticipate and has a label attached to the string which you read the moment you drop the package onto the kitchen table.

‘Welcome neighbour! Don’t be a stranger! Karin and Gus x’

It must’ve come from the big, white house just a short walk from your own; your closest neighbours, the others being at least a couple of minutes walk away.

You pick at the knot in the parcel string, the paper beneath falling away as the string loosens, and you see a huge tray of pasta bake. It’s homemade and makes your stomach growl just looking at it. The homesick churn in your stomach relaxes in turn, and a smile pulls at your lips.

You should introduce yourself to this Karin and Gus before you venture into town today. That would be the neighbourly thing to do, right?

Rifling through the bag of snacks you’d packed for the road, you found the large tupperware of homemade hamantaschen cookies you’d raided the night before, and, removing just one more cookie to eat immediately, you tuck the tub under your arm, shove your hands into your pockets (adding gloves to your mental shopping list) and set off to greet your new neighbours.

Rounding the corner at the end of your driveway, you see the figure of someone swinging what looked like an axe outside that big, white house.

Gus, you remind yourself of the names on the parcels tag. Karin and Gus.

As you step closer, you can’t help but notice that this Gus guy is kind of…

No. Stop. You cannot find your neighbour attractive. You can’t.

Can you?

‘Hey, Gus?’ you call with a wave, and the man, frankly oozing sexual energy with his brawny arms and that big axe held in an exceptionally strong grip, turns around.

Oh shit. He’s handsome too.

Your gaze drops from his sparkling blue eyes to his handsome mustache, perfectly groomed and sort of dashing…

‘Hi… I uh… I just moved in next door,’ you gesture over your shoulder whilst trying to snap yourself out of whatever this is, and focus on the steamy breath you can see in the air every time you breathe out instead. ‘Gus, isn’t it?’

He doesn’t answer. He bites his lips together and averts his gaze, shoulders hunched.

‘I wanted to thank you and Karin for my welcome gift. It looks so delicious.’

Dropping the axe, the handsome Gus straightens up and your eyes widen at his height.

He steps back, blinking excessively, cheeks blazing hot and hands clenching into tight fists as his sides.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ you try. A whisper.

‘Y-yeah, I-’ he stutters, swallowing hard and thrusting a hand out to you with his eyes closed tight, as though he’s bracing himself for some sort of terrifying impact.

Carefully, you take it, feeling the way his arm tenses when your flesh meets his. He’s warm and clammy and you want to pull him close.

‘I- I’m Lars,’ he breathes, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘Gus is my brother.’

Lars. Your heart skips a beat.

‘Ah… Lars. Nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ you say softly, ‘I just wanted to bring some cookies over for Gus and Karin.’

Lars clocked the container under your arm and visibly settled. ‘Oh… oh, they’re not in right now. I could look after those cookies for you until they’re back though? I promise not to eat them.’

‘Ok, sure! I’ll maybe stop by tomorrow to introduce myself properly, but if you could tell them I said thank you for the warm welcome, I’d appreciate it?’

‘Sure,’ Lars nods, a little skittish.

‘And you can have a cookie,’ you joke, pushing the tub toward him.

Lars huffs out an awkward little chuckle and instead of taking the tub from you, whips what you thought was a thick blue scarf from around his neck.

‘Y-you look cold. Here-’

He shuffles toward you, averting his gaze as he fumbles with wrapping the little handmade blanket around your shoulders, his fingers delicate but shaky.

The fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with light musk hits you and you all but swoon at the combination. It’s not just a swoon; it’s homely, too. Lars is homely.

‘Thank you,’ you breathe, smiling. Is everyone so kind and polite here?

‘It’s alright. I’m getting a bit hot from chopping wood anyway.’ Lars steps backward, staring at the ground as he creates a more comfortable distance between the two of you. Is it comfortable though? He feels an urge to go back to you. ‘You can bring it over when you’re warmed up and all unpacked.’

He’s so sweet you feel like your heart is on the verge of exploding.

‘I don’t have many winter clothes, actually. That’s where I’m heading now – into town to introduce some wool and a decent coat to my wardrobe, and a nice big duvet to my bed. I knew it’d be cold here but I didn’t think it would be this cold.’

Lars looks down, biting his lips together again, bracing himself to say something. You wait patiently.

‘W-where did you move from?’

‘Somewhere much warmer than this,’ you shiver, sucking in a sharp breath of cool air. ‘For a fresh start.’

Lars’s brow furrows and he lets out a small, ‘Ok!’ He isn’t sure whether it would be too much to question any further, so he drops the subject, reaching a hand out to you.

For a moment, you freeze, a whole movie playing out in your mind of what might await you in the future if you take his hand right now and just… kiss him.

Lars clears his throat. ‘The um… the cookies?’

‘Oh- yes.’ You push the box toward his outstretched hand. ‘Take a couple for yourself too.’

You see a crimson blush dust flare up on his cheeks again.

‘Th-thanks.’

The air thickens then as your gazes lock, until  Lars turns away, and you wonder if you’ve overdone it. He did seem a painfully shy. Maybe he could read your mind and was horrified of what he’d witnessed… or the offer of a cookie was just too much.

Just as you open your mouth to ease the tension and singsong a, Well, see you around, Lars!, he sets down the tupperware full of cookies, gathers a few logs in those burly arms and turns back to you. His cheeks are positively glowing now.

‘Th-these are for you.’

There goes that lightheaded swooning feeling again. ‘Oh, Lars, are you sure?’

‘Of course! I’m really good at it. I chop the wood for Gus and Karin’s house all the time, so it’s really no problem to spare a few… for my neighbour.’

‘Oh! You live here too?’

Lars turns sheepish, nodding toward the garage behind you. ‘I live… there.’ He remembers the time he spent in his home with Bianca. Moments far and few between, but usually tender. He remembers dancing with her by firelight, a jazz record playing softly. He clears his throat. ‘Do you know how to build a fire?’ he asks, much more confidently.

You get the feeling he would take great pride in teaching you, but still feel a little silly admitting the truth to him. How could you accept these logs in all good conscience when you’ve never built a log fire in your life and have no idea where to begin other than… setting them on fire?

Embarrassment creeps onto your cheeks and you hold your breath, scrunching your nose up. ‘Nope. You got me. Something else for me to learn now that I live here.’

‘I could show you some time,’ Lars mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. His voice cracks as he backtracks, ‘if- if you like?’

You nod, and both of you are blushing so hard you’re barely able to look at one another aside from surreptitious stolen glances.

You hug the firewood close to your chest and take a deep, steadying breath. ‘Thank you, Lars. For everything.’

As you trudge back over the undisturbed snow to store the logs in your porch, you chuckle to yourself. You needn’t have worried about the cold, all you have to do is talk to Lars for a few minutes and you’ll soon warm up.

****

Wrapped in the same paper and tied with the same string, another parcel appears on your doorstep the very next morning. 

Your head tilts as you bend to collect it, wondering what else Gus and Karin could possibly have sent you when you haven’t even met them yet. Would this turn into a never-ending exchange of reheatable meals and cookies?

It feels lighter, soft in your hands.

You tear the paper open right there and then, too curious to wait. Two thick sweaters spill into your hands, a small sheet of note paper floating to your feet.

They smell like Lars, and you know instantly that they’re his. It’s the same scent you caught from his blanket yesterday; the same one that lingered on his skin when he had leaned in close to wrap it around your shoulders – fresh and soft with a hint of musk. Comforting. Homely.

Butterflies soar in your stomach and for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the frosty air in just your pyjamas and socks.

You collect the note up and shut out the cold, heart beating a little faster as you sit down to read it and learn what his handwriting looks like. It’s neat, large letters, cursive. Romantic.

You shake your head, still in denial that you’d ever dare to think of him that way, pretending you hadn’t fallen asleep wondering what his soft lips might feel like against yours and dreamed about him teaching you to chop wood, his strong arms braced around yours to guide you as you swung the axe.

You tried to focus on the words rather than the style of the handwriting or your own wandering mind, almost nervous to begin reading, wondering what he wants to say to you.

I hope you don’t mind me leaving these for you – I don’t wear them so much any more and thought they would be put to better use building up your winter wardrobe. 

One has a hole in the sleeve. I’m sorry about that. I would have fixed it but I never learned how to sew. It’s ok if you don’t like them.

Hope you’re keeping warm! 

Lars (your neighbour)(the one from the garage)

You bite your lips together to keep a whine from escaping. Your neighbour? The one from the garage? As if you could possibly forget him.

‘Could you be any cuter?’ you grin, and fold the letter, standing to head right back to your bedroom and dress immediately throwing on the new puffer coat you bought in the town yesterday over a Lars scented sweater, grab your last tub of cookies and head out, marching straight up to the door of the garage next door.

****

‘Hi.’ Lars swallows the word, opening his door just enough to poke his face through the gap. 

He’s just as handsome as you remember. Maybe more. The way the bright winter sun hits his eyes and sets the deep blue sparkling, the coy little smile he can’t quite hide beneath that impeccably groomed mustache…

‘Hi,’ you sigh. You might feel a twinge of embarrassment, but Lars seems so taken aback to see you, you don’t think he’ll notice your indiscreet little swoon.

You clear your throat. ‘Thank you so much for the sweaters, Lars. You really didn’t have to.’

‘Oh it’s nothing,’ he protests, struggling to meet your gaze and chewing his lips as though he’s scared of what he might say if he doesn’t bite them together.

‘I brought more cookies. Just for you this time.’

Lars squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep steadying breath.

‘Are you ok?’

He blinks his eyes open again and finally looks into yours. ‘Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.’

Even so, his fingers fiddle with the slightly chipped paint around the edge of the door he’s holding ajar.

‘Alright, well…’

‘Did you use the firewood yet?’ he blurts, eyes closed again but voice much louder.

‘No, I never got the chance to look up how to build a proper fire last night, so-’

‘Would you like me to show you? Now?’ His face scrunches up in what looks like pain.

‘Yes! That would be great.’

Lars nods, smiling, and opens the door. ‘Please, come in,’ he breathes, and you notice his hand gripping so tight onto the door now that his knuckles have turned white.

You step inside the little garage apartment, immediately so at ease that you almost feel at home here.

There’s a jazz record playing softly, and you sway a little as you glance around, clocking the log burner in the corner. His bed is neatly made with two or three blankets layered on the top, warm and cosy. You wonder what he wears to bed.

The kitchen is sparse and clean, a small double hob occupying a whistling kettle and a pan. There are a few cupboards you imagine are mostly bare. 

A door to the left looks like it must lead to the bathroom, because aside from a small closet and a couple of shelves on the wall, that’s all of it. Lars’s entire home.

He doesn’t appear to have many worldly belongings, but what he does have, he appreciates and takes good care of. You smile at that. Maybe he would take good care of you, too.

In many ways, you think, perhaps without even knowing it, he already has.

Lars closes the front door, but doesn’t move from his spot beside it, staring down at his feet.

‘W-we might as well enjoy the fire after I show you how to get it going. Would you like to stay for a drink? We could share the cookies? If you like?’

He glances toward you with that pained look again, but it quickly softens when you answer simply with a gentle; ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

Lars grins, incredulous, and springs into action, preparing to start work on building the fire, dropping to his knees before the log burner.

‘Alright, the first thing we need to do is make sure the firewood is in good condition. I know mine is, of course, but it’s always worth checking, because…’

You sit beside him, fully intending to learn a valuable lesson that will no doubt serve you for many winters to come, but Lars picks up a log with such care the mere sight of it makes you shiver.

Carefully, he runs the tips of his long, thick fingers over the smooth edge of the wood, treating it so delicately that every word out of his mouth blurs into barely perceptible background noise and all you can manage to do is watch those elegant fingers tracing over the contours and try not to imagine how they’d feel on your skin instead.

Startlingly, he stops the demonstration short and turns to you. It’s far from abrupt, but it drags you out of your reverie nonetheless.

‘Got that?’ he asks eagerly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Ready for the next step?’ Lars beams at you. He’s been talking nonstop, completely lost in the world of firewood while you were lost in the world of… Lars.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ you lie, hoping the next part won’t be as difficult to take in and that you can piece together whatever you’ve missed.

Lars opens up what he calls the damper, leaning forward to place kindling into the centre of the stove, his sweater rides up a little at the back, and although you try with all your might not to look, you can’t quite avoid it. Beneath those three layers, his exposed skin looks so soft and pale and… warm.

There are a few small beauty marks dotted close to his hip and you get the urge to trace them with your finger tips, follow them like a constellation and connect the stars with your tongue…

But you’re not supposed to be thinking about the flesh of Lars’s lower back under your fingers and lips. You’re supposed to be listening to his instructions.

You close your eyes and try to focus.

Good logs. Damper open. Something about kindling.

You can do this. You can.

Oblivious, Lars continues, arranging dry wood around the kindling and placing the logs gently on top, taking as much care as if he was creating a work of art.

He’s so passionate and thorough in the way he describes the process, the way he’s handling the equipment, that this in itself is making you come over too hot.

Is he this passionate and thorough with a lover? 

Stop.

You shake the thought from your head and wonder if you will manage to actually sit in front of a blazing fire with him at all if he carries on like this. Carries on being so… so…

‘Would you like to do the honours?’ he grins, sitting back on his heels.

You swallow hard. ‘Sure!’ 

Lars hands you a half empty box of matches. His hands are no longer trembling, you notice, but yours have certainly begun to shake as you select and strike a match.

Lars’s palm slides over the back of your hand, warm and soft, to guide your flame to the kindling. Your head spins and you lean forward together, bodies pressing close as you hold the match still and wait.

Both of you watch with delight as the fire takes hold and bursts to life before you.

You smile at Lars, who beams back. There’s but an inch between you and you can’t help but lick your lips and you glance down at his.

‘We did it,’ he breathes. ‘Next time, you can try arranging the kindling-’ He stops himself. 

Next time.

Suddenly his face is burning, his forehead is damp and his chest is tight, and a voice in his head is firmly telling him to run in the opposite direction.

‘How about that drink?’ you remind him, hoping it’ll ease the tension.

Lars is more grateful than you could ever know for that simple suggestion. It gives him a reason not to completely consume you, which is both his greatest fear and his strongest urge with you so close. He isn’t sure whether the heat he feels is from the fire or from his burning attraction to you, but thinking about it is making him dizzy.

He snaps up to stride into the kitchen and start the kettle boiling, and you try to focus on breathing.

As you feel comforting warmth radiating from the glow of the fireplace and listen to him pottering in the kitchen, your eyes slip closed.

This is home.

‘Is hot chocolate ok?’ Lars calls over.

‘No lactose for me, please, Lars.’

‘No problem! I can work around that. See, if you mix the cocoa powder into a paste with a small amount of the water first, you can make it smooth and thick without the need for milk! Neat little trick, huh? And I can skip the cream topping, just for you.’ 

Lars is once again in his element. He seems so happy to share his habits with someone – with you – that it eradicates the overwhelming nerves he was fighting moments ago. 

‘That sounds wonderful. Thank you.’

‘Uhm- do you… do you mind if I have a little cream on mine?’ he asks, cautious. ‘I’ll only have a little bit.’

‘Of course I don’t mind!’

He chuckles quietly with a shaky exhale of nervous energy. ‘Ok!’

You watch as he finishes up and joins you again placing two big mugs of hot chocolate on the little rug in front of the fire.

‘You know, I used to treat myself to a hot chocolate now and then before I moved here, even though it was much warmer. I wonder if it’ll hit different now that I actually need heating up,’ you laugh, blowing out a steady breath to ripple over the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a careful sip.

Lars watches the way your lips move, snapping his eyes shut when he realises where his thoughts are going – the same place they went last night when he was trying to fall asleep but you kept appearing in his semi-unconscious state, asking if you could hold his hand and kiss him.

He clears his throat. ‘So, how are you adjusting? Have you seen the doctor yet?’

Your brow furrowed. Did you need to see a doctor just for moving here?

‘No, I mean, it has felt a little strange, but I thought it was just a touch of homesickness…’

‘I think that’s normal,’ Lars nods, face turning serious and voice lowering like he was keeping a secret from prying ears. ‘I had a girlfriend who came from a much warmer climate, you see. She was half Brazilian and half Danish, and she’d been used to warmer temperatures before she came here. So, I’m used to it.’

Lars shrugs and sips his drink, casually sure of himself.

‘Girlfriend?’ you blurt before you can stop yourself. You try to at least sound easygoing, but it comes off more strained than anything thanks to curiosity getting the better of you.

‘Oh, wait, I’m not suggesting that we’re uhm… friends of any sort- I mean-’

‘No… no, it’s ok.’ Another easy smile. ‘I just wondered about her, that’s all.’

You move to place your mug back down as Lars makes the same motion, and as you reach forward, your skin brushes his.

Time stops. Lars almost flinches, but he lingers instead, seeking you out once again, grazing the back of his fingers against the back of your hand, witnessing the connection, awe pulling at his features.

It’s different from when he guided your flame to the kindling, and he realises that then as much as now, your flesh against his feels almost… tolerable. More than tolerable. It feels good.

You hold your breath, needing to be closer again. Needing to feel heat from him and not just the fire, inhale that comforting scent that you’ve already come to associate with your new home, the one laced on his hand knitted blue blanket that you forgot to return today in your rush to get back to him. You don’t plan to tell him you’d slept clutching it for comfort, or that it remained beneath the covers on your unmade bed.

‘It’s getting a bit hot,’ you breathe shakily, eyes locking on his. ‘May I take off my coat?’

Lars doesn’t answer, he just helps you with removing the coat from your shoulders like a true gentleman, folding it neatly and placing it on the bed for you.

‘Better?’

‘Much.’

‘You’re wearing one of my old sweaters,’ he says quietly, staring at you as he takes in how it fits your form compared to his, how good it looks on you and how he wants to help take the sweater off your body, too…

His fingers wander to the collar, where he drags a fingertip gently over the familiar wool before dropping back to his lap.

The air between you grows thicker again and all at once you’re breathless.

‘Lars…’

‘Hmm?’

‘You have some, uh…  cream… just-’

His gaze is intense on your lips as your fingers move to wipe the cream from his perfect mustache. It’s tender. Loving, almost. His breath is hot and ragged against your fingers and for a wild moment, you think about slowly pushing a finger between his plump, shiny lips.

Instead you come to your senses and bring it back down, coated in a light covering of the cream.

‘You know, lactose intolderance doesn’t always stop me,’ you smirk, licking the cream from your finger. ‘If it’s just a little bit. Perhaps… a little bit more?’

Lars doesn’t move as you press forward, closing the gap between you and leaving enough pause for him to move away. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips to yours and elicits contented hum that makes him simply melt into you.

There’s more cream on his mustache that smears onto your upper lip and you pull back, licking yourself clean and pushing forward to lick the last of it from him, too.

Lars parts his lips to allow your tongue inside. It feels natural yet unusual, not at all how he imagined kissing would feel. But it’s just as thrilling as he’d hoped it would be, and the butterflies in his stomach that he’d been trying hard to control begin to explode into something wonderful, a new sensation that he had the overwhelming urge to chase.

Your lips against his are so soft and wet, and his head is swimming with what all of this means.  The feeling growing somewhere deep inside him pushes through to the forefront. It’s something he can’t seem to control. It’s too new, too exciting, so he follows his gut.

With a shaky hand, he reaches forward to touch you. He’s not sure where, or how, but he’s overcome with that sudden urge to consume you entirely again, and he can’t stop the hand hesitating midair from grabbing your shoulder and pushing you down onto the rug.

He’s strong, and that sets your nerves alight. You knew when you saw the perfect control with which he wielded his axe. Your hands slide up over his biceps and squeeze the firm muscles, and Lars whines.

Even with this newfound dominance, he’s unsure, hesitant — but eager. Your tongue guides his, gently leading him into a steady rhythm with slow flicks and languid slides, each one setting his desire aflame until he’s breathless.

Your guidance doesn’t falter when he positions himself on top of you. If anything, the kiss turns hungrier and Lars moans, muffled in your mouth, and he wants more despite the nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Worries creep in that he’ll do something wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. 

There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that making out like this isn’t something he should be doing. It feels far too exciting to be allowed. Far too naughty, and that seems to spur on the excitement, and it all feels so good how could it be wrong?

His pants are getting tighter and he knows he can control himself if he just manages to get back outside and pick up his axe and burn it off, but he doesn’t want to this time. Not with you here, kissing him, touching him, making him feel good.

But what will Gus and Karin think when they find out he kissed their new neighbour with such fierce passion less than forty-eight hours after you arrived in town? Somewhere within his muddle of thoughts, he hears Gus muttering an impressed, ‘It’s always the quiet ones…’ and his cheeks burn a little hotter.

He feels you pushing at his shoulders then, a signal to stop, and he scrambles back to sit up, covering his face with his hands.

He was on another plane of existence just a moment ago and now everything was crashing down around him. He had gone too far, been selfish with his affections. What had he done?

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-’ he sobs into his palms, muffled and desperate.

‘Don’t be,’ you soothe, sitting up to join him as you fight off the haze of pleasant lightheadedness his kiss had caused. ‘I liked it.’

You grab the half-full mugs of chocolate and pass him his. He accepts with a nervous smile and you sip the remaining drinks together in comfortable silence, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the kiss having broken the tension.

You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh, content. You hadn’t felt so at home since you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to leave. You also didn’t want to admit that you’d not really listened when he’d been kind enough to show you how to use the logs he’d gifted to you.

Meanwhile, Lars’s head is buzzing. He thinks over how he’s already shared his first kiss with you (first kiss with tongues, anyway — he’d kissed Bianca once or twice in moments of madness, but never with tongue). He thinks about how far he’s come since Bianca, and how if it weren’t for her he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to finish a conversation with you yet, let alone push you onto the floor and dare to let desire consume him for a short while.

And he can’t just leave it there now, not now he’s tasted you, shared a part of himself with you; he needs more. He decides he needs to act now or he will think about it so much he’ll scare himself away from the idea.

So before he can even formulate an actual plan to ask you out, he blurts;

‘You want me to show you around sometime? There’s the lake, and- oh, I have a treehouse there!- and we could go into the town together, too, maybe to the mall? Gus and Karin would love to have you over for dinner, I bet. They’re always asking me, so I could bring you as my guest! Do you bowl? I’m not very good, but I’m getting better and-’

‘I’m absolutely shit at bowling,’ you laugh, and Lars laughs too, relieved you’d stopped him talking himself into a certain hole he’d never climb out of. ‘But I still like to play. I’d actually really like to go with you sometime.’

You feel Lars holding all his breath in his lungs, and smile to yourself. He’s so easy to fluster. You could have fun with that, you muse, but stop yourself thinking on it for too long.

‘C-can we still… kiss?’ Lars stutters, trailing off, ‘I liked it, too.’

You chuckle to yourself, giddy at how nice this all feels. ‘Do you make a habit of kissing your neighbours, Lars?’

It’s a playful question, and although you can’t see his face you can sense that he’s blushing profusely, blinking hard again.

‘No! No, I’ve never-’

‘Good. But, how about… you do it again? Just for me?’

∘₊✧─────────NSFW─────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars throws his coat and hat on so haphazardly to get out of work at the earliest possible moment, his hair is sticking out at every angle.

He rushes home, wheels spinning against the gravel before his car screeches to a halt outside the garage. He grabs his briefcase and the little plastic bag he carries his good shoes to work in, and darts out of the car to his front door.

Gus and Karin don’t know about you yet. Or rather, they know about you, but not about the way you’d touched and kissed Lars. Or the way you occupied his thoughts every second since. When they’d mentioned you to Lars over breakfast this morning, he made his excuses and ran, worried he’d give himself away with blushing cheeks or breathlessness.

He may as well have not gone into work today. He might have been physically present, but his mind was very firmly elsewhere. All he could think about was the way your lips felt when they had slid so sensually against his. Not burning or uncomfortable in the least. It’s almost jarring, how good it made him feel. He’d only ever been that comfortable with Bianca before, and the thought sets his teeth on edge and his heart racing.

His stomach churns every time he replays the kiss you’d shared. And the second kiss. And the third. Except it’s not churning exactly. It’s more like fluttering, low and unsettled in his belly. Is that what people mean when they say they have butterflies? He’s never felt that before.

Right now he needs to focus on getting inside before he’s stopped by Karin. His chest heaves when he finally unlocks his door and slams it shut behind him. Luckily Karin doesn’t see him, or has decided against chasing him for dinner tonight. She’d been better at that since Bianca, leaving Lars to mind his own business much more often than she used to. Lars thanks his lucky stars that tonight is one of those nights.

He’s trembling, he realises, as he hangs up his coat and sets his bags down. His stomach is in knots with these mysterious butterflies again, and his heart is thudding in his ears.

He braces himself against the wall by his coat pegs, resting his forehead to the back of his hand as he tries to force his breathing slow, and to focus on organising his thoughts.

All he has to do is choose a sweater, brush his teeth and comb his hair. Simple, easy steps. One thing at a time. Sweater. Let’s start there.

Within twenty minutes, there are six discarded sweaters scattered on his bed and Lars is staring himself out in the bathroom mirror, hair perfectly combed back, breath minty and teeth shiny. He runs his tongue over them, wishing he was running it over your teeth instead.

****

You settle down for dinner with a successfully built fire crackling and hissing in the hearth. You were a bit distracted as you spent far too long adjusting the kindling and remembering the order of the steps to take, piecing together the scraps of information you’d somehow retained from your lesson with Lars. But you did it, and now your house is the glowing, cosy home you’d hoped it would be.

Before you can take a bite of your delicious looking dinner, courtesy of Karin and Gus, an urgent banging at the door makes your heart jump in your chest.

Please be Lars, please be Lars, please be Lars, you hope, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror as you head for the front door, trying your very best to appear casual, and as though you haven’t been thinking about him nonstop since you left his place yesterday.

‘Lars!’ you exclaim, far more excited than you intend it to come out, and your cheeks prickle with heat.

Lars is leaning with one hand up against the door frame, mock confidence oozing from him, and he looks so handsome it makes your head spin. He’s wearing a gorgeous sweater which you gather he must save for special occasions. His hair is combed back perfectly, and a warm smile graces his lips.

Your eyes lock with his when you’re done checking him out so obviously his cheeks are crimson now too, and you simply can’t say another word. The gaze between you is so intense, so filled with intention, the cold air turns thick and you can barely breathe.

Lars lunges forward and presses himself to you. Your lips crash, then his chest is flush with yours and you realise his arms are snaking around your waist, but it’s all so fast and so frenzied you can’t quite keep up. You just need each other and in that moment, knowing he’s close is enough.

With a shaky sigh, he rolls his hips into you. He’s rock hard. You gasp, and he whines into your mouth as the frictions tingles through his core.

He’s fighting to control himself but it’s so difficult when you want this as much as he does and he knows he can chase the thrill with you.

He didn’t even mean to get hard, but after thinking about you for twenty four solid hours and trying not to think about how you’d feel touching him there, it truly was a task not to succumb to the natural pull of arousal before now. He’d done well to last this long.

Only, what if you’d changed your mind since yesterday? He should have asked. He shouldn’t have assumed from your dilated pupils and the way you bit your lip as your eyes grazed over his lips. 

He pulls away, mortified. His body had betrayed him, he lost control, he-

But you push forward, reaching between your flush bodies to stroke the hard bulge tenting in his smartest pants. The fabric is soft against the flesh of your palm and you sigh into his mouth, rubbing needily over his length.

You’re ok with it, he thinks somewhere from within the haze of incredible pleasure and fading embarrassment, a prickly combination that falls away as he kisses you back and it all just becomes you and him. I can be ok with it, too. 

You pause for breath and Lars hisses from between gritted teeth, feeling the overwhelming urge to moan and to chase the coiling sensation tightening in his gut.

He needs more, but it’s already too much. He’s not sure how these things work exactly. He doesn’t know if you would consider him a… what are they called? A one night stand. Or if you’d expect something in return, or for him to make a move before he-

‘Ohhhmmnn…’ he groans. It’s low and primal for such a small sound and it makes your core ache.

His head falls to the crook of your neck while his fingers grip at your arms with a strength that makes your breathing catch in your throat, and just as you’re considering unfastening those smart, grey pants to get your hand inside and really feel him, Lars’s whole body shudders and you wrap your free arm around his lower back to steady him as he turns weak and flops against you, hips bucking as he spills, hot and thick, inside his pants.

A string of ragged, breathless moans and weak little whimpers slowly tear from his throat as he tries to regain composure.

Weak, he keeps his face buried against you for now, his eyes shut tight as you slide a hand up to stroke through his hair, bringing him back to you.

He needed that release, and with it came a sense of clarity that he only wants more of you. He wants to see you, feel you, kiss you every single day. Is that unreasonable?

The real reason he’d knocked on your door swells within his stomach, butterflies returning swiftly to replace the heated coil that had wound up and finally sprung free at your touch.

Desire – in particular, sexual desire – is not the original reason Lars came over tonight. He never dreamed he would make such a mess in his trousers or that you’d kiss like that again, even though he’s kinds of glad both of those things did happen. Glad but… embarrassed.

His underwear is sticky against his skin, and he knows his release is soaking through the front of his pants. Along with the uncomfortable sensations he wants to soothe away with a refreshing shower and a clean pair of underwear, shame consumes him as he struggles to peel himself off you. 

But you come to the rescue as you so often seem to do, guiding him over to your sofa and flopping down onto it with him. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together as you settle comfortably.

It feels like home. Lars feels like home, and once again you get that feeling in your gut that tells you never to leave his side.

‘Lars…’ you start, voice barely a whisper, and he turns to you, finally meeting your eyes, and you notice how wet his are. Had he cried when he came? 

‘Was there… a reason you came over tonight? You know, other than-’

Lars clears his throat before you can say any more. There’s still a pang of shame, and he knows what he did, he doesn’t need to hear it too. ‘Yes, I… I wanted to ask you something.’

As you prepare to hear it, he presses his lips together into a tight smile.

‘What is it?’ you ask gently. ‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’

‘I wanted to ask you… well, I thought- maybe- I could be your boyfriend? I-if you’d like…’

Your answer comes as another bruising kiss, head spinning at the question until you pull back, panting, and rest your forehead against his. He nuzzles against it, never having found such comfort in anything but his blanket before now.

Lars smiles, ‘I think you mean yes.’

‘Yes,’ you confirm, your own lips curling upwards. ‘Take me bowling?’

[mirlvshft]

introduction to my waiting room! — PART I .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

this is part I of my very in depth showcase of my wr which is a luxurious penthouse in ny. i believe you can get a feel of the overall aesthetic so try to keep that in mind as you take in the visuals as they all do not reflect the same style.

this wr is like any wr, to relax in and whatnot. however i am catering mine towards my drself (criminal minds) which is reflected in part II.

if anyone has questions or further ideas please let me know! now…

「 ✦ welcome to mir’s

waiting room ✦ 」

| part II

weather

i have the ability to keep and or change the time of day and weather. although, a very soothing dim rainy weather would be constant more often than not. the temperature inside will always be kept nice and cold.

companion

the most recent addition to my wr: connor, an android from the game detroit become human. he’s company and sort of a helper. connor can help with absolutely anything— he has tons of capabilities in addition to what i personally added to him. he can do a number of things such as help in redesigning the penthouse, give advice, help with scripting, etc,. although i will say his purpose isn’t to solely act as a strict servant or android per se. mmm, almost like a roommate? like how androids become “alive” in the game. hope that makes enough sense. side note: i did not finish the game, i just can’t

bedroom

my bed is huge and so incredibly comfortable, it’s serene really. this also moves over to temperature, it never gets uncomfortably hot— the apartment as a whole is at a very crisp cold temperature. i have fluffy pillows that never go flat and support me amazingly. the bed also has the softest, fluffiest, plush blankets— my bed is literal heaven. the sides of my bed have these nightstands as you can see, consisting of all my little necessities; phone, headphones, etc,. everything will always be well kept and never change in condition; always pristine. if i ever want a drink or food, whatever i may want, it’ll appear on the nightstand. as for the rest of the room, it’s all pretty basic furniture.

closet

it’s huge, i mean huge. it literally has an upstairs but i couldn’t find a picture good enough but trust, it looks great. it has everything i have in my pinterest, all of my wardrobes. it’s organized by the type of clothing and color. another feature is any desired clothing i find while on my phone or any other way, will just show up there neatly organized for me. i can also do automatic alterations to pieces that don’t fit me like how i want them to, useful huh?

kitchen

my kitchen is pretty big and has literally everything i could ever want from food to all the necessary dishes; pots and pans, glasses, etc., i can think of a snack or food i want and it’ll just appear there but sometimes i want to cook, you know? don’t know if that’s an unpopular opinion or whatever but i definitely want to cook myself sometimes. i want to have the option to mess around and actually make food, bake and all that— i think it can be quite helpful and i find it therapeutic. although the mess that occurs always cleans itself up or connor can help me (bc fuck all that). everything will always keep clean; no dust, no mess, no mopping or anything and will always smell good with whatever scent i want lingering!!

bathroom

these pictures are good examples but don’t do it justice, it’s bigger and has a few more elaborate details. the hot water will never run out, any wash for body or hair, bathbombs, essential oils, etc etc,. all that would be ready in the cupboards or wherever i want it. this also goes for cosmetics and whatnot. the whole space is such a vibe.

i finallyyy made this post, its been sitting in my drafts since i damn near made this blog. i’m trying to open up more and not be so shy on my blog about my dr’s ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! but at the same time i could go on and on forever about them — finally putting this together was very fun and motivating!!

as lengthy as this guide is, i didn’t go in complete detail about every. single. thing. but just enough to explain the main features and rooms and to also give some scripting ideas to you guys too— i could go on forever but i will spare you all. if anyone has questions or further ideas to give me about my wr please let me know! (｡> ᴗ ☆｡) ‧₊˚

[rad-roche]

do you have any mod recommendations? other than romanceable nick lol

exposing my mod list is a real 'please don't tell anyone how i live' moment because it, top to bottom, is all just pretty little outfits for gloria, furniture, or very small changes to nick that i like. gameplay? story additions? those sound interesting, i wonder what those are like. my toxic video game trait, consistent across absolutely everything, is i can play a 5fps mess if it means i get to snap pretty pictures

now of those categories...

SAD WOMAN DRESSUP GAME FEATURING AN RPG OR WHATEVER:

Caliente's Beautiful Bodies: you know it you love it, and there's a nevernude option should you desire. i always forget what i have installed, so i made sure to get the nude one so i could nod appreciatively when a modded outfit failed to load. it's my present to me. got rained on? had an argument? never fear. glussy is here.

Apocalypse Attire

Commonwealth Cuts

Dave's Poses

Looksmenu

Mirrored Vanilla Scars

Eyes of Beauty

Photo Mode (even if you have absolutely no interest in the cc stuff, this thing is a godsend if you ever want to take screenshots)

Cigarette In Mouth

Handmaiden - the outfit in that picture. comes in other colours, too!

Concealed Armors

HOUSE FLIPPER: IS IT STILL MIDMOD IF IT'S THE FUTURE

Creative Family mods. you can't install these like you would the rest, so pay close attention to the instructions, but the quality on these is unmatched. creative clutter, do it yourshelf, modular kitchen, they're all really, really good if you like decorating player homes.

Building Budget Extender

Dino's Decorations

Global Stash

Just Some Rugs

MadKea (this thing adds 500+ items so if your computer has a hard time with fo4, give this one a skip unless you don't mind waiting an age for menus to load)

PlaceEverywhere

Reversed Workshop Highlight (gets rid of that annoying green glow! godsend!)

Workshop Plus (completely reworks workshop; lets you clone items, save layouts to layers, float around buildable spaces, undo/redo. it's hard to overemphasise the usefulness of this if you plan to build)

SO THERE'S THIS SENIOR CITIZEN

Companion Accuracy Boost

Companions Go Home

Alternative Synth Eyes

Nick Valentine Robot Voice (it makes nick sound as if he's talking through a speaker. it's subtle, but i really dig it)

Valentine's Revolver

Valentine Jaw Sync

Settler and Companion Dialogue Overhaul (makes npcs seem more 'aware' and much less likely to make repetitive comments)

Delay Nick's Quest (only allows Long Time Coming to trigger after you complete Gilded Grasshopper; a lot of his location-based dialogue remains open instead of him defaulting to brooding about the tapes and that long, hard quest)

I'll respect your wishes and not mentioned critically acclaimed Fallout 4 mod Romancable Nick Valentine, which can be found here. I will, instead, mention this adorable one where you can marry him, which I assume is keeping in the spirit of you specifically asking me not to mention them. Now go forth and play your wildly overambitious otome game

[kangamommynow]

Updates

The first week of the school year has been busy but gratifying. My new job is more administrative than instructional, and the teachers I'm working with have been really lovely about thanking me for what I'm doing to make their lives easier. We've got some bumps ahead, mainly due to just not having enough staff. On paper it's enough. In practice it isn't. I am responsible for new evaluations for special education and our pre-K, Kindergarten, and 1st grades are loaded with kids who are on my watch list. So they need extra support, but we don't have the staff to provide it. I know of at least 8 who have been identified as autistic and haven't been evaluated at school yet. That's just kindergarten. What are the chances we'd get additional staff once these students are evaluated and qualify? Pretty slim, given budget shortfalls. Still, for me personally it's been good because I feel like I'm doing good work and supporting the teachers who are in the trenches.

At home, our kitchen is almost totally done. We've been bringing everything up from where it was sitting in the basement, washing everything, and figuring out where it ought to go. There's more overall cabinet space, but much of it is up high, so I bought a stool. Alas, the stool is so badly designed that I'm not sure I can put the damn thing together. It's sure nice to be able to cook again, though, not to mention being able to do laundry and not have litter boxes in our upstairs hallway.

I've still got rooms to paint and there's new furniture coming. The number of boxes arriving daily is alarming. But we're almost done.

There's always new projects, though.

Finally, here's cats

[rockethorse]

4t2 Shell Challenge - LunaSims "TinyGalaxy" Family Home

Got another 4T2 shell challenge for you! Not only is it on a 1x1 lot, it was actually made with an even SMALLER limitation - this is a TS4 "micro home", aka 60 tiles!! (Well, ok, plus a couple extra to account for differences between TS4 and TS2, but don't sue me.)

The original TS4 TinyGalaxy challenge was posted by LunaSims on YouTube, who set the additional challenge of trying to make it a family home. So this is a fully-furnished TS2 micro home which can support 4* Sims, though it is not a starter home, costing a little over §50k.

More pics & DL link below!

The first floor is kitchen/dining, with a fireplace and bookshelf, plus access to the bathroom (typical 2x3 affair).

The stairs have been placed with Nopke's mod so even if you don't have that mod, your Sims should hopefully still be able to walk underneath them. The stairs function, but be mindful that Sims will still not be able to walk over the third tile that usually cuts out the flooring (here under the left side of the desk) if you decide to move/delete furniture. They can still access things placed on top of it, e.g. the phone.

The two bedrooms! The kids could make better use of their space if you were to use CC bunkbeds, but it's still perfectly serviceable as-is.

*Of course, in TS2, two Sims can only sleep in this double bed if you have a mod that allows them to access inaccessible beds. Two single beds will easily fit in this room, so this house can still support four Sims, but if you play a completely vanilla game, then as presented, this house is only really built for three Sims. (Does anyone play without that mod, though?)

Lastly, the small yard. There's a little veggie garden, some skilling objects, and more kids' playstuff. There's also an apple tree out the front.

Technically outdoor spaces enclosed with fences are supposed to count against TS4's "tiny home" tile counter, but there are ways to totally cheese that in-game, so nobody cares. Landings for modular staircases (such as the ones by the front and back doors) also don't count as floor tiles in TS4 like they do in TS2, so I gave them to us for free.

But there you are! A functioning TS2 micro family home on a 1x1 lot. I've playtested it and everything should be accessible & functional, even the storage under the stairs. I think LunaSims's original roofing on this shell was super super cute and it even looks good in TS2!

Download Little Stars Family Home @ SFS

[4rainynite]

EAH Dorm Rooms Headcanons pt 22

Teachers Addition

It wouldn't be high school without the teachers and to teach the students passed down legacies.

A good majority of the adults went to Ever After High School and some even became teachers to teach the future generation.

At the end of the day teachers need a place to sleep and we get to see who roomed with who during their high school years.

The teachers' living quarters are between the boys and girls dorm and is smaller than the students' dormitory.

Like the students each room is design to fit the persons personality.

Headmasters Milton and Giles Grimm

Brothers Milton and Giles created Ever After High to teach the future fairy tales their storybook legacies. Overtime Giles notice how some destinies weren't equal even if some were happy ever afters. Giles purposed a way to make everyone happy, but Milton didn't agree. Still traumatized of almost losing Giles when they were children made him deadset on following the pre-determined fates and because he fears he'll lose power. There was a huge fight and Milton cursed his brother to speak Riddlish and banish him to the Vault of Lost Tales.

Being co-headmasters and founders of Ever After High School, Milton and Giles have the biggest rooms in the living quarters.

Milton's room is similar to his office: full of portraits of himself, full of awards, clean, expensive furniture, posh, with a canopy bed, and blue.

Giles's room is similar to the Vault of Lost Tales: messy, papers everywhere, books piled high, mix-matched furniture, and red.

When Milton cursed Giles the police investigated and closed his room up. Milton avoided the room at all crime to not feel guilt for what he had done to his brother.

When, Giles is free from his curse (he didn't get cured in Thronecoming) and Milton is arrested for his crimes, everyone predicts that Giles will throw away Milton's things. But, he doesn't. Giles lets it be, even after his brother's betrayel he refuses to touch the room.

Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga teaches home-evilnomics and facility advisor and though she sides with Headmaster Grimm with destiny she's less strict and willing to show sympathy for those who want change.

Baba Yaga doesn't need a room due to her living in her cottage/office with chicken legs so it changes locations and we've seen it plenty of times in the show.

Her cottage has Slavic designs, candles, spell books, potions, and she has a steering wheel to control the hut.

I believe Baba Yaga's cottage/office is like the shotgun houses from my home state Louisiana. For those who don't know what a shotgun house is it's a narrow house (front to back) and each room is divided for better examples: 1 2 3. The first section is her office, second potion making section, third kitchen, fourth bathroom, and last bedroom.

Mr. Breaker Badwolf

Breaker Badwolf was a student at Ever After High School where he studied (met the love of his life Ruby Hood and had a daughter) and now teaches General Villainy.

Breaker's room resembles a wolf's cave like his niece Ramona's room with rock formations, dim lighting, and leather furniture.

He seems like a hunter to me, so he has a collection of traps and snares in his room.

He keeps a two-way-book to speak with his with, photos of Ruby & Cerise, and letters from her hidden away in his room.

The White Queen

After, evacuating Wonderland due to the Evil Queen's curse, she and her fellow Wonderlanders escaped to Ever After. She got a job at Ever After High School as the new Princessology teacher.

Like all the Wonderlanders her room is messy, but in a organized chaos sort of way.

Her room is styled like a chessboard with Wonderland decor.

Maid Martha Marion

Maid Marion is the teacher of damsel-in-distress class and mother of Sparrow Hood.

Her cartoon and book appearance are drastically different in the show she looks like the perfect damsel while in the book she was described as:

Madam Maid Marian set a black bag under the desk, then removed her cone hat. Her hair was chestnut and cut in a short bob. She was fresh-faced, with no makeup. A few freckles dotted her wide nose and high cheekbones. She wore the colors of the forest, with a moss-green tunic and brown leggings. A pair of green feather earrings completed the woodsy look. Her suede boots looked super comfortable.

Appearances aside Unlike other damsels-In-distress she teaches her students to save themselves.

Her room is a hodgepodge of luxurious queen/ forest decor.

She definitely has exercise equipment and hunting gear like bows and arrows in her room.

Coach Gingerbreadman

Coachh Gingerbreadman is the gym teacher who encourages his students to run faster to avoid crazed bakers.

His room is more of a gym than a bedroom with a treadmill, weights, a rowing machine, and etc.

His room is mostly candy & gingerbread decor with trophies decorating the walls.

Evil Step-Librarians

Evil Step-Librarians (Stephanie and Sissy) are the librarians of the school, one is the mother of Prudence and Charlotte, and Cinderella's stepsisters.

While other staff members have their own room, they share one while at Ever After High School.

Their room has a gaudy luxury feel to it. Like everything cost of money but it looks cheaply made and tacky. And everything is bejeweled.

Since they're librarians the room has multiply bookcases with trashy romance novels.

Prof. Jack B. Nimble

Prof. Jack B. Nimble is the of tall tales and seems to be a popular teacher among the students.

Prof. Jack has a huge candle collection ranging from size, colors, and scents. He has the cleanest smelling room in the teachers' sleeping area.

As you can see by his desk most of the furniture in his room is candle themed.

Because of this the sprinkler system goes off in his room a lot (similar to Faybelle).

He also has a huge bookcase where he keeps a collection tale tales and poems.

Prof. Pied Piper

Prof. Alto Pied Piper is the music teacher and the father of Melody Piper.

His room is similar to the music classroom with many instruments and music books.

He keeps his Imperial Gold Turntables in his room when not using them in his class.

He has a mini fridge stocked with snacks for his pet rats.

He owns a huge collection of flutes and vinyl discs.

Rumpelstiltskin

Rumpelstiltskin teaches chemistry and is one of the least popular teachers in the school due making students spin straw to gold for extra credit.

His room is probably one of the messiest rooms in the teachers' living quarters and screams goblin core.

He has a spinning wheel that he uses to spin his own gold.

Momma and Papa Bear

Ursula and Bernard are a married couple so obviously they share a room together.

Their room is cottage core with bear cave elements.

Like their story sleep in separate beds since Poppa likes his mattress firm and Momma likes her mattress soft.

Ursula teaches cooking class so she has a ton of cookbooks and Bernard teaches beast training and keeps many cages and pet supplies in their room.

Their son, Teddy, sometimes visits them when not in class.

Author's note: We were robbed that they never appeared in the show!

Hagatha

Hagatha is the school's lunch lady who is infamous for her porridge which she adds artificial lumps to.

Can't really say too much about her so maybe insects motifs on her dress she has food and bug decor in her room.

Mrs. Trollsworth

Mrs. Trollsworth is the secretery and Headmaster Grimm's assistant in his schemes.

Being a troll, her room is messy with a mix of grandma parlor room decor.

Mr. Green Thumb - Is the groundkeeper/gardener, due to his small size he most likely has the smallest room in the teachers' living quarters. It most likely full of gardening equipment and indoor plants.

Prof. Card - Prof. Card with the other Wonderlanders evacuated after the Evil Queen's curse, he is the current art teacher at Ever After High School. His room is full of art supplies and has a few weapons since he was a guard.

Prof. Knight - Prof. Knight teaches Hero Training and is one of the oldest teachers in the school who still remembers the art of knighthood. His room is decorated with suits of armor, swords, and horse decor.

Well, that's all the staff at Ever After High School!

[krscblw]

Ministry Perfume Associations

I’m back yet again with more thoughts about Ghost and perfume! This time it’s fragrances from my own collection that remind me of various places in my headcanon of the Ministry. (Usually these lists are mostly made up of perfumes that I don’t actually have, but this time I can vouch for all of these! I didn’t include any that I thought weren’t good.)

For the sake of organization these are divided into places in the New Wing (the most recent addition to the Ministry), the Old Wing (the original Ministry buildings), and the grounds (gardens, forests, etc). And as always, if you have your own thoughts or want me to do more of this, please let me know! I would love to talk more about Ghost and perfume.

(also: so sorry for the weird formatting, idk how to fix it on mobile but it should be fine on desktop)

New Wing:

Library: old books, wood, dust, paper, ink

The library is part of the New Wing of the Ministry, although it’s not very new anymore. Built in the early 1900s, the New Wing is all soaring ceilings, stained glass windows, and intricate woodworking, done in the Art Nouveau style of the time. The library’s floor-to-ceiling shelves are full of books ranging from ancient esoteric tomes to modern fiction paperbacks, interspersed with desks and secluded reading nooks. The library also houses the Ministry’s private collection of artifacts - some occasionally used for ritual purposes, some purely academic in nature. The library is always very still, with the occasional susurrus of turning pages and quiet voices. It smells like polished wood, faint dust, and the leather and paper of old books. 

Library Ghost - Poesie 

marshmallows, books, ink, polished wood

Myself Invisible - Poesie 

stacked books, spilled ink, black tea, violets

Bibliotheca - Alkemia  

leather-bound books, vintage vinyl records, mahogany, fountain pen ink, black tea, plum brandy

Canoodling in the Library - Nui Cobalt  

old books, mahogany shelves, fallen leaves, ancient stone stairs, amber resin, warm skin musk, vetiver

Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

irish coffee, dusty tomes, polished oakwood halls

Personal Quarters: carved wood furniture, tea and coffee, soft bedding, books and clutter, spices, vanilla

The personal quarters are also in the New Wing, separated into human quarters and ghoul quarters (for everyone’s comfort and safety). The personal quarters tend to feel very cozy and lived-in, as they are the rooms most frequently used. The furniture is comfortable, often occupied by off-duty siblings or ghouls, and the arch windows overlooking the gardens and forest cast soft beams of light onto the wood floors in the afternoon. The siblings’ quarters tend to smell like the possessions of those who occupy them - books, scented candles, tea and coffee, and faint spices from the small kitchen. The ghouls’ quarters are similar, but with the scents of various elements - smoke, greenery, damp stone, fresh air, resin.

Mysterious Fossils - Poesie  

smoked black tea with creamy vanilla oat milk, a cashmere sweater, tortoiseshell glasses, a cedar chest containing fossils encased in amber, sandstone, and limestone

Whisper Your Bitter Things - Poesie  

pressed coffee beans, dried clove bud and cassia bark, jasmine, neroli, roasted vanilla pods

Grey Cat - Nui Cobalt  

smoked vanilla, marshmallows, fresh blueberries, lavender, earl grey tea

Kensington - Fantome  

earl grey tea, cashmere, vanilla bean, cedar, rose petals, mandarin zest, pink peppercorn, bergamot

Ouija - Possets  

cedar, rosewood, black vanilla, fat vanilla, rose, black silk, coriander

Our Days Bewitched - PULP Fragrance  

walnuts, brandy, roasted cocoa beans, copal, cardamom, labdanum, black vanilla, aged oak barrels

Old Wing:

Chapel: resinous incense, polished wood, wine, smoke

The chapel is part of the Old Wing. The exact dates of its construction could probably be found somewhere in the Ministry’s records, but the gothic architecture suggests it’s been there for at least 500 years. The cold grandeur of the exterior’s intricate stonework and vibrant stained glass windows is matched in the chapel. It is perpetually cold, made fully of elaborately carved stone, and colorful sunlight filters through the enormous stained glass windows onto the altar and the pews. The heavy, still air smells like residual incense smoke, snuffled candles, fragrant wood, and ritual wine.

Holy Terror - Arcana Wildcraft  

burning frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, dusty beeswax candles

Anastasia the Patrician* - Deconstructing Eden

paper, ink, frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, copal, rose, juniper berries, wine

Leo* - Deconstructing Eden

frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, amber, liatrix, blood cedar, blond tobacco absolute, sweet spices, honey

Parlour - Fantome  

mahogany, rosewood, burning incense, vetiver

*i think these were discontinued? sorry

Crypt: cold damp stone, smoke, dust, ashes

The crypt is the only place in the Ministry that truly reflects its age. It feels like it has been standing, underground, inhabited only by the dead, for hundreds of years. It’s well-maintained, but perpetually freezing cold and slightly damp. The stone walls are minimally decorated, and the candles in their niches do very little to illuminate the cavernous space. The air is weighty, and all sound is muffled. The crypt smells like damp stone, cold air, sweet dust, and smoke.

Gargoyle - Nui Cobalt  

rain, lavender, cathedral incense, beeswax candles, ancient stone

Summoning/Ritual Chambers: cold stone, ritual incense, blood, wine, smoke

The ritual chambers are where summonings and rituals are performed. They are where every new ghoul comes into the world, and, more rarely, where they’re banished from it. The walls and floor are stone, and there are no windows. When in use, the chambers are lit by dozens of flickering candles, some in sconces, some piled onto tables, and years of melted wax have created puddles and formations on the walls and floor. The air is dense, thick with dust, herb smoke, ritual incense, and the scent of dried blood.

Baba Yaga - Fantome  

black and red musk, smoke, cracked bones, cardamom, wood, animal skins, mugwort

Conjure - Solstice Scents  

vanilla, amber, cedar, spices, cauldron smoke

Gothique - Alkemia  

frankincense, styrax benzoin, myrrh, cassia, spikenard, canella, liquidambar orientalis, labdanum, atlas cedar, vetiver

A City on Fire - Imaginary Authors  

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, a burnt match

Vassago - Fantome  

A silver dagger, red wine, blackberries, cloves, orange peel, blood, a black mirror

Grounds:

Gardens: dirt, greenery, sun, fruit, flowers

The Ministry sits on a huge expanse of land. Most of it is still wild and forested, but there is a good amount of it dedicated to gardens, both decorative and functional. 

Decorative Gardens:

The decorative gardens are lush and heavy with flowers and fresh greenery most of the year, tended to by the Earth ghouls. Some of them are small cloistered gardens, decorated with statues and fountains, and some are larger, intended for gatherings or wandering alone. The decorative gardens tend to smell like fragrant herbs and flowers - sweet jasmine and magnolia, heavy white lilies and heirloom roses. 

Basilica - Milano Fragranze 

thyme, rosemary, incense, milk, labdanum, cedarwood, cypriol oil

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors  

jasmine, tulips, frankincense, wildflower honey, pink peppercorns, silver thistle, alpine air

Isabella - Possets 

rose, light resin, white tea, honey, cream musk, spices

Olwyn - Fantome  

magnolia blossoms, white lilies, jasmine, gardenia, buttery vanilla, myrrh, benzoin, orange blossom

Silver Narcissus - Possets  

silver base, narcissus

Functional Gardens:

The functional gardens supply the flowers for decoration within the Ministry as well as the herbs and most of the produce for the kitchens. The gardens, orchards, and greenhouses are managed by the Earth ghouls, and yield so much produce that, despite the relatively small size of the gardens and the relatively large size of the Ministry, they still end up with extra. That surplus is sold at the local farmers’ market to unsuspecting humans who wonder in open amazement about the size and quality of this mysterious farm’s produce.

Sundrunk - Imaginary Authors  

neroli, rhubarb, honeysuckle, rose water, orange zest

Drider Crossing Guard - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

dry, earthy fig, black pepper, nutmeg, black plum tea

Wilcox’s - Solstice Scents  

dry woods, fresh herbs, dried herbs, warm spices, sweet annie, sage, rosewood 

Lake: water, trees, evergreens, greenery, stone

The Ministry’s lake is very deep, cold, and still. It’s objectively beautiful, with its glassy blue-gray waters and lush vegetation, but something about it feels dangerous. The pebbled shores are visited only by the bravest siblings, and even then only on the hottest and most desperate of summer days. The water ghouls, on the other hand, love it (which is possibly why the siblings tend to stay away). It is located at the border between the new and old forests, and its mossy banks are surrounded by evergreens, ferns, and rushes. It smells green and a little salty.

Villa Diodati - Poesie  

wild rosemary, balsam pine, crystal clear lakewater, dry, dark vanilla

Every Storm a Serenade - Imaginary Authors  

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

The Forest: trees, dirt, damp air, greenery, wildflowers, fungi

New Forest:

The new forest is a nickname given to the shallow edges of the forest that are closest to the Ministry. The trees are widely spaced, and the ground is thickly carpeted with grasses and wildflowers. Sunlight filters easily through the sparse leaf canopy and illuminates the fallen logs and patches of moss that make popular spots for siblings and ghouls looking to unwind. The air is light, and the breeze carries with it the scent of fresh greenery, tree sap, and sweet flowers. 

Cape Heartache - Imaginary Authors  

douglas fir, pine resin, western hemlock, vanilla leaf, strawberry, old growth, mountain fog

Dendrophilia - Nui Cobalt  

moss-covered deadfall, birchwood and pine, lingering resins, sunlight through the leaves, a trace of woodsmoke, faint vetiver and cedar

Duende - Fantome  

oakmoss, cedar, fir, labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

Solovey - Fantome 

black amber, violets, black currants, espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

Old Forest:

If you go far enough into the new forest, you will eventually get to the old forest. The trees are bigger and closer together, the sunlight struggles to reach the ground, and there are more mushrooms than flowers. The air is damp and cool and smells like fungus, loam, and rotting leaves. The old forest is avoided by siblings both because of the unsettling watched feeling any human who enters feels and the unspoken knowledge that if you don’t come back out no one will go looking for you. 

Gaea - Alkemia  

forest loam, ferns, decaying leaves, lichen, wet stones

Dies Irae - Possets  

black musk, fog, bitter galbanum, hawthorn, rotting leaves, orris, smoky oude, frankincense, black amber

Feuillemort - Alkemia  

dying leaves, smoked autumnal spices, dried grasses and fungi, Tibetan incense, cedarwood, rum soaked agarwood, and borneol

Samhain - Haus of Gloi  

freshly turned earth, wet leaves, cold wind

if you made it this far 1) thank you lol and 2) i hope you enjoyed! if you have your own thoughts i would love to hear them!

[wrongcaitlyn]

Just read chapter 17! It was sooo worth the wait!

It totally flew over my head that nico and will got a apartment (had to go back and reread, lol) but I feel like someone needs make a pintrest board on what there house looks like, what do you imagine?

As soon as I read that will was going to a party I KNEW he was going to trigger nico with alcohol. It was really sweet though how he just kept confessing his love to nico, I couldn't keep giggling at that part

Oh poor will, the dating accusations with ncio are only going to get worse lol. In all honesty I guess he's not going to care that much about people knowing he's bi, but I don't think nico will like the speculation

Nico making the luckey one the seventh track omg we love the cabin 7 refrence!

I am so ready for this new album (my spotify playlists consist of nicos music from this au, not even egsagurating) I'm so happy with the addition of all falls down (I hc that the saxophone was Austin's playing!)

Also will Hazel and or Frank ever make a appearance in this au? If not why? (Genuinely curious)

This was a great chapter! I hope you have so much fun at the eras tour, and I hope you get a good suprose song!

so sorry it took so long for me to respond to this!!! at first i wanted to wait till i was able to make a pinterest board, but then i couldn't really find exactly what i wanted (but still made a board - here's the link!) so i decided i'd just describe it:

it’s a penthouse, and right now it’s veryyyy empty. they moved into it just before will’s next semester started so not much time to decorate!! they kept all like the basic furniture, so i do think they have a sort of living room connected to the kitchen - hold up, now i’m realizing i sorta based that layout off my uncles house. don’t know why i did that but!! we’re going with it. so they have two couches in the “living room” and a tv, leading to a kitchen with the generic appliances + a kitchen island - then i think that there’s a hallway with doors to one of the bathrooms, the guest room, and the studio, and then the master bedroom is also like. right across from the kitchen. if im even making any sense. i actually don’t know what a penthouse looks like so im just going off of pinterest vibes💯💯 anyway i think that eventually, they’ll also def have a lot of (fake) plants (bc lord knows they don’t actually have time to water and take care of plants), and LOTSS OF BLANKETS. i think that like almost every time they go to a target or smth to get smth they actually need, they walk out of the store with at least one blanket. they’re all over the couches, the beds, the chairs, idk why but i just want their apartment to be very very cozy :) aside from that, will 100% has his record collection moved to their room, with a few hanging from the living room- there’s definitely shelves of a bunch of awards or posters and things like that - A PHOTO WALL TOO!! definitely a photo wall. i also think that both nico and will are very messy, at least when they’re busy with something (and they always are) so every countertop and table and desk is filledddd with clutter. like so much. papers and textbooks and headphones and laptops they’re everywhere.

i realize it’s actually really hard to explain my vision for their apartment, which is funny bc i have a very specific layout in my head - and also one for nico’s apartment in so american btw!! so maybe sometime ill figure out how to draw a floor plan just so i can show yall what im thinking, but in the end, that’s the general vibe of it!!

now on to the rest of the ask‼️

will is ADORABLE he’s just such a simp and i love him for that. drunk words r truly sober thoughts in his case

youre 100% right with will not really caring abt people knowing!! i know some people assumed that will was the one being outed, and this was going to lead to some sort of angsty plot line, but seriously- will doesn’t care for that stuff. in his eyes, he’s already out, because he’s come out to all of his friends and the people he knows. the people on twitter are trying to search for something that just isn’t really that important

YES YES YES FOR THE ALL FALLS DOWN HC!!! i forgot to mention the songs and the artists in the end notes but seriously, all falls down by lizzy mcalpine is SOOOO fucking nico. i almost considered it being apollo (which i think it could also be) except the production style just wasn’t rlly very him if u get what i mean?? he’s much more like mainstream pop, and nico is too but he’s less worried abt sticking to a genre and i think it matches him perfectly

hazel and frank WILL be making their appearances soon!! i’ve had their backstories planned for sooo long and i can’t WAIT to finally include them. it’s been a long time coming but i swear it’ll be worth the wait!!

thank you SOO MUCH and i’m sorry again for taking so long to respond to this!! i had an incredible time at the eras tour and got some AMAZING surprise songs so thank you for that!!

[sigritandtheelves]

All Along, Like Fire (Part 7)

FINAL PART!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Mature | 3.4k words | MSR, AU

—

October 13, 1995

Mulder sat alone in his apartment, head in his hands, staring at the floor and thinking. Diana was gone—her things gone, most of the furniture, even the crock pot his mother gave them for their wedding. He wanted to believe that all of this wasn’t his fault, but he felt like a failure for the way their marriage had ended. And for the decisions he’d been forced to make because of it. At his feet was a lone cardboard box of photocopies, the most important documents he was able to salvage. It was the all he had left of the X-Files.

His clothes were also boxed up, along with his books, his trophies, his diplomas and knickknacks. Tomorrow morning, a moving truck would arrive, and he would say goodbye to this place forever. He wasn’t sorry. Just sad, a little ashamed. He’d let Diana make a fool of him here, let her seduce truths out of him while he was blindly manipulated for years. He’d planned to sulk alone until it was time to load the truck, but a knock on the door startled him. He opened it to three familiar faces.

“Well well well,” Frohike said. “If it isn’t the spooky birthday boy on Friday the 13th.” The little man shoved a bottle of Jack Daniels into Mulder’s chest and pushed into the apartment.

“Happy Birthday, man.” This from Langly who toted three pizzas, which he tossed onto the coffee table. Byers echoed the sentiment, carrying a mysterious white box under his arm.

“What are you guys doing here?” Mulder asked, not unkindly.

“Couldn’t let you sit alone on your birthday, could we? We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“We do?”

Frohike was digging around in the kitchen cabinet for glasses, but they were almost all packed away. He settled for a quartet of coffee mugs and plastic novelty cups. “Yes! Imminent divorce and new beginnings! Fighting the good fight!” He carried the dishes in and passed them around.

“We’re gonna miss you, Mulder,” Byers said. “But we all agree this is a good step. You can do some really good work this way.”

“Then why do I feel so crappy?” Mulder poured shots of the Jack Daniels into the mismatched cups.

“When’s the last time you saw Scully?” Langley asked, flipping open the first pizza and digging in for a slice.

“Last week.” Mulder frowned.

“Well, there’s your answer. Cheers.” Frohike knocked mugs with Mulder and threw back a shot. “All in good time, my man.”

Mulder downed his shot with a wince and reached for a slice of pizza. “What’s in the box?”

Langley waggled his eyebrows. “Goodies,” he said.

“Open it up,” Byers tapped the lid of the unmarked container.

Inside were several gadgets, one of which looked like a large gray brick, and at least two bulky phones with fat antennas.

Byers explained, “Those are hacked satellite phones that will connect from anywhere. They’re essentially untraceable and should hold their battery for several days between charges. Good for off-grid work.”

Langley was too excited to wait for him to ask about the brick. “And this one’s a hacked satellite modem. You’ll have internet no matter how remote you are. New tech, definitely not consumer hardware.”

“So you can stay in touch,” Byers added.

At the bottom of the box was a new laptop, which Mulder was sure had a range of nonstandard additions and upgrades.

“And we’re gonna come out to visit,” Frohike said. “Soon. Maybe this winter if that’s okay.” If Mulder didn’t know better, he’d think the man was choking up. He was touched, and another wave of sadness washed over him.

“Thanks guys,” he said, voice thick.

—

San Diego, CA

The warm California air made Scully think of her childhood—fond memories with Melissa on base housing, sticky summers when freckles appeared on all the Scully children’s noses. She drove up in front of a small house that was so like the one in which she’d spent those years. She double checked the address against the one on her paper; it was right, though she couldn’t imagine this unassuming abode as the site of any secret research. There was a small garden out front, wind chimes hanging from the porch roof. She breathed in deeply. There was no reason not to go in now except the terrifying thundering of her heart and the sense that there was no going back after this. She opened the driver’s side door and got out.

On the porch, she was greeted by two unsmiling men—not hired muscle, she thought. Maybe doctors in plainclothes to blend in with the suburban atmosphere. They wore khakis and polo shirts and the looked around, suspicious, before letting her in. Beyond the foyer, the inside of the house couldn’t be any more different than its outside. It was sterile, white, and filled with beeping machines and medical equipment.

“This way,” one of the men said. He led her up the stairs to the second floor landing, where a woman in scrubs was backing out of a room, closing the door behind her. The man led Scully to the left, to an open bedroom door that was just as sterile, just as white as the downstairs. Here, though, a crib sat in the corner—also white—with a mobile of farm animals hanging over it. In the center of the room stood Diana Fowley. Scully’s eyes ping-ponged between the crib and the woman she didn’t trust at all.

“Agent Scully,” Diana said.

“Not anymore.”

The other woman’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Right, of course.”

“Where is she?” Scully’s heart was pounding, and she wouldn’t allow herself to think about what—or who—was behind the other doors of this nightmare suburban experiment.

“In the crib,” Diana said, stepping aside to let Scully see. “She’s sleeping.”

Scully took three steps closer. She couldn’t breathe. As she approached, she saw a tiny figure in a onesie covered in stars, little fingers curled into fists on either side of her auburn head. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

The child looked perfect. She moved her lips into a subtle dreamy frown, and her long lashes lay against pink cheeks. Scully bent over to lay a hand on the baby’s chest, to feel the movement of her steady breathing and the tiny flutter of her heart.

“You can pick her up,” Diana said. “She’s yours now.”

Tears were blurring Scully’s vision. She tried to blink them away, but one slid down her cheek. She swiped it quickly. “And she’s well now? She won’t get sick?”

“She’s healthy,” Diana confirmed. “But she’s chipped. Like you are.”

A brief wave of anger flared through Scully, but she swallowed it down. She knew what she’d bargained for. She’d accepted the price. She brushed a finger against the baby’s cheek, and the child turned into it, as though seeking out comfort. “Does she have a name?”

“The nurses were calling her Emily, so that’s the name we put on the paperwork. You could change it, but that might take some time.”

Scully shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I like Emily.” She couldn’t imagine giving up a single minute with this baby for the sake of another hoop she’d have to jump through. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, then reached both hands into the crib to scoop the child up. Emily wrinkled her little nose and let out a whimper, but didn’t wake. Scully held the baby against her chest, buried her nose in the impossibly soft skin of her neck, her downy head.

“Hello Emily,” she said, and closed her eyes against the enormity of it.

—

Traveling with an infant was a new experience for Scully, and not easy while alone. She was terrified that the baby would stop breathing in the back seat while they drove, that she’d be too hot, too cold, too hungry. But little Emily seemed happy enough, and slept for much of the first day’s drive. Scully had bought a pack-and-play, formula, bottles, and diaper packages in two sizes. Instant motherhood was even more frightening than leaving the job she’d worked so hard to prove herself in.

At a rest stop in Santa Rosa to change the baby and get some caffeine, Scully discovered something hard buried in the package of clothes Diana had sent with her. It was a small cryo-package containing three vials. One was clearly blood: Emily’s, she thought, dated July of this year. Before she’d been cured. Another was mysteriously green and unlabeled. The third looked familiar, an amber liquid she’d seen before. It was labeled Purity - 3.9506. A dated code: the current iteration of the vaccine. She almost didn’t notice the note tucked below the package:

         To get you started.

                   - DF

Scully wanted to hate Diana, but she found herself unable to conjure the same fury she’d felt last year. This was a gift that Diana taken great risks to provide. Whatever bargain she’d made to keep herself safe, it was clear that the woman was still ensnared by the Syndicate’s poisoned grasp. Scully allowed herself to feel grateful to her, despite everything she’d done. Scully placed the vials back in the chamber and made a note to store them with her own recovered ova. Emily had woken up when the car stopped moving, and was beginning to fuss. Scully shoved the clean onesie into the diaper bag and unbuckled the baby, hushing softly to her and humming.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she murmured.

Scully was unaccustomed to the number of strangers’ smiles that greeted them. An elderly couple stopped to coo over the chubby infant, to remark how like her mother she was. Scully’s smile was tight-lipped and nervous. They weren’t wrong—the child did look like her. She had the same blue eyes, the same fair coloring. She tucked Emily’s warm little body against her chest and nuzzled her head.

“Let’s get you some food, hmm?”

By the third and final day of driving, fear had turned overwhelmingly to love. When the baby woke in the morning light, she greeted Scully with a wide, two-toothed grin. She sat up in her pack-and-play and pushed at the mesh sides.

“Good morning!” Scully laughed and felt a flood of warmth accompany her own smile. The little girl babbled a steady “yah yah yah.”

They had six more hours on the road, and then a whole new life ahead of them.

—

Lummi Island, WA

October 20, 1995

Beyond the mainland, the salt air reminded Mulder of chill mornings on the Vineyard. He could go fishing here, or watch the sunrise from a boat, every day if he wanted. Though the coastline and the island were different from the ones where he’d grown up, the place felt like home. The closer he drew to his final destination, the more the melancholy that had clung to him in the last two weeks melted away. He was nervous, but it felt more like excitement than anxiety now. He fiddled with the radio—there wasn’t much signal to pick up on the island, but he needed something to fidget with. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

He rounded a grove of trees and finally caught sight of the little house up a short driveway: blue clapboard, a tiny porch, a brown shingled roof over the cozy two-story cottage. He pulled up alongside a white fence—honest-to-god picket—and climbed out, stretching his limbs with a massive heave of his chest outward.

This was it. This was home, now.

The front door of the house opened, and he felt his heart stutter, then swell. There she was. There they both were.  Dana Scully walked toward him with an impossibly cute baby on her hip, smiling broadly in jeans and a woolen sweater.

Mulder couldn’t help the grin that broke out over his face. He pushed through the waist-high gate and walked up onto the porch.

“There are my girls,” he said.

Scully blushed. “You made it.”

“I did,” he said as he reached them. He leaned down to kiss the woman he’d ached for over two long weeks. Her lips were soft and sweet, and her eyes dropped closed at the contact. He cupped her cheek, curled his other hand at her waist, and felt the pull of her middle toward his. “I missed you,” he said into her mouth.

Scully breathed deeply, eyes still closed for a moment, and nodded. Then he turned his attention to the baby.

“And you must be Emily.” The infant eyed him curiously and reached a finger out to touch his nose. “Hi baby.” She pulled the hand back and tucked two fingers into her wet mouth. Mulder booped her own nose in return, which earned him a shy half-smile as she tucked her head against Scully’s neck. “She looks just like you said. Just as perfect.” Mulder palmed the baby’s downy head, where blonde hair was growing in soft and fair. The little girl didn’t pull back or object, just watched him with something like awe.

“She’s been really good,” Scully explained. “I think she’s only cried twice since I brought her here. I mean she fusses, but…” Scully shrugged.

Mulder tickled the baby’s belly, and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a tiny stuffed fox about the size of his hand, and Emily’s eyes went wide. “You like him? That’s Mr. Fox.” He handed over the toy, which Emily grasped with both hands. “He’s like me.”

Emily pressed her little fingers into the fox’s button eyes, her tiny fingernails scritching at the plastic.  Then she brought the fox’s head toward her mouth and bit down on the pointy nose.

Scully laughed. “She likes it.”

Mulder bent to kiss the top of the child’s head, then added another to Scully’s head for good measure. “Let’s go inside, hmm? I can’t wait to see how it looks in person.”

—

Later that night they lay facing each other on her bed—their bed now, Scully realized, and the thought made her heart beat faster. They were tucked under quilts and printed flannel sheets against the autumn chill. Emily slept in the second tiny bedroom next door, warm and safe with a mobile of colorful planets and her little fox beside her.

Scully felt the momentousness of this night, now that it was just them, now that they were really together. She found herself watching Mulder for doubts, for guilt, for regret. She held her own small sorrows: leaving her mother, leaving her job. But she feared most that Mulder would come to resent her for the loss of their work in D.C., their resources, their allies inside, as it were.

Mulder pursed his lips in a frown. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Everything, everything. Her mind was spinning: What if we fail? What if we lose her? What if they take back the bargain and come for us all in the night? What if you never forgive me? But Scully just shook her head. It felt like too much to talk about now. “It’s nothing. It’s okay.”

She knew he wouldn’t believe her, and he didn’t. He moved his face closer to hers on the pillow. “It’s not nothing.”

Scully’s fingers fidgeted under the blanket. She heaved a deep sigh, and decided not to begin their new life by hiding things, by keeping anything bottled up. “I know we have a plan,” she said. “I know we’re not giving up and that our work will just be different here, but… it’s pretty enormous change—all of this. You must have doubts. I just don’t want you to… regret this. Because of me.”

Mulder was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “I understand why you might think that,” he said finally. “I know that in a lot of ways, this feels crazy.”

It did, Scully conceded. Two months ago, they woke up in their separate city apartments and put on suits to go to work for the government. Mulder was married to another woman. Now they were on a remote island off the west coast, with a baby for god’s sake, planning a resistance to a global colonization in secret. Their lives couldn’t be more different.

Mulder reached an arm across the space between them and took hold of her hand under the blanket. “It’s hard for me to explain why, but this feels right.” She could barely make out his features in the dim light, but she sensed how serious his face was, how intense his look. “Scully, all of this started for me, because my family lost a little girl, and it ripped us apart. I lost her. I lost my family. I needed something to fill that emptiness, and I did it with work, which I thought might help me find her again. I wanted so badly to fix what happened to us.”

Scully nodded. She felt her chin wobble at the profundity in the pause between his words.

“But the same evil that took my sister also gave me another little girl. And it gave me you.” He squeezed her hand. “I still need to know what happened to Samantha after my father used her as a bargaining chip. And I will find out. That hasn’t changed.” He swallowed hard, and Scully wanted very badly to lean over and kiss comfort into him. “But this,” he motioned between them, “is a real chance at family, and that’s something I never thought I could have again, not even with Diana. I don’t know what kind of father I might make, if that’s even what you want from me. I didn’t have a good role model. But… I want us to try.”

Tears were dripping down Scully’s nose now into the flannel pillowcase, and she found it hard to speak. She sniffed. Nodded. Bent her forehead to touch his. “I want that too,” she managed to say. “And I want… Emily to think of you as her father. If that’s okay, I mean. If you want it.” She shook her head at her nervous rambling. “I just know you’d be a really good dad.”

Mulder nuzzled her nose with his own , unmindful of the damp. Then he tipped his chin to kiss her lips, sliding his arm around her middle and pulling her toward him. They held each other tight in the near-dark. “Yeah,” he croaked, and Scully realized he was on the verge of tears, too. “I want that.”

Her head fit perfectly, tucked under his chin. Her face pressed against his t-shirt where she could feel his heart beating, and she pressed a kiss there. She pushed one knee between his and breathed deep, letting the smell of him, of them together, fill her with warmth and need. God, she loved him so much. It was like she’d been holding her breath her whole life, and now she was gulping in oxygen. She knew, then, that they would make this work.

“Well,” Mulder said, his tone lighter now, “if I am any good at it, we’ve got all those little frozen uber-Scullys in storage. Maybe we’ll just make a whole tribe, huh?” His hand was on her waist, and he slipped it between them to poke her belly.

She laughed through her tears, nodding. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and it was getting too hot under the blankets for all these pajamas. They were hungry for each other. He touched her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted, like this was the only thing that mattered. They made love in tear-streaked desperation: clutching, dizzy love—though they were quiet and mindful not to wake the baby (their baby) with too much noise. After, when they’d slept an hour or so, he woke her gently with more kisses. This time their lovemaking was slow and gentle and reverent—like they had the rest of their lives.

— END —

A/N: I had many ideas about what their big plan was to save the world, how they’d build a network of allies through the Hosteens (and the Lummi people that they are so close to now), because who better to help them survive colonization than the people who have already survived it? But this ending also felt right and I think I’m happy with it. Thank you so so so much to everyone who has read and left hearts and kudos and comments. This was supposed to be a one-off little thing. It’s no novel, but it’s more than I’ve been able to write in a while.