#camden the puppy

[fuckyeah-dragrace]

Snowed In

I would like to thank @junosjukebox and @themetaluna for creating this winter fanfic exchange and letting me be a part of it, in incredibly honored to have been a part of it 😁

This is for @puppywritesthings happy holidays so enjoy some camsco!! you can find it on ao3 here as well!

Bosco knew that not everyone was going to like her and she wasn't going to like everyone either. It's just a fact. But they didn't think that their roommate, someone they'd spend every day with would be one of those people. So what happens when they're snowed in and stuck together? Will it bring them closer or tear them apart?

Bosco sat on the couch in the apartment, watching the snowfall before sighing, getting up from the couch and checking her phone. “Expect 10 inches of snow, yeah right. Fucking weathermen.” She scoffed, pocketing her phone before heading back to her room. Across from them, she could hear Camden. She could always hear Camden. She rolled her eyes and closed her door, some would say slam but it just had a little force behind it, and flopped down onto her bed. Just a week and then finals and then she was home free. A whole month without thinking about shitty professors, stupid assignments and most of all, no more of that bloody ginger bitch.

God she could rant for hours about that girl, Daya would know since she was always at the receiving end. Bosco sighed into their pillow, rubbing her tense jaw to try and relax. She’s lost enough sleep over that fucking girl, she doesn’t deserve any more. Thank god she’s moving in with Daya and Willow after the semester’s over, all her headaches will be gone and she can have some damn peace. Maybe it’s wrong for her to be so hateful of the girl but everything she did just ticked them off, like under that bubbly side she knew every one of her buttons and how to push them to drive her up the wall.

They matched up on the school’s compatibility survey and they messaged each other, figuring that they’d be decent enough and signed the lease for the apartment off campus. Everything was fine the first few weeks, maybe even the first month of the semester. In all honesty, Bosco was just happy to finally get out of those vile dorms and could shower in complete privacy without worrying about someone screaming about her simply cleaning themselves. And no more stupid fucking fire drills and walking down fifteen flights of fucking stairs in the cold. 

When they met on move in day, Bosco didn’t think there would be any issue. She was a dancer for campus so she’d be out of the house a lot for rehearsals and performance and what not which was fine, great actually so they could have the place to herself. The first night they were all settled in, they talked about rules and everything seemed pretty great. They agreed on almost everything and what they didn’t they were able to compromise on, smooth sailing. In the beginning both of them were cautious and careful of treading on each other's spaces, always texting if they could borrow a towel or politely turn down the music. Everything was going great and Bosco was happy, maybe they could actually be friends or something.

But then the honeymoon phase wore off and oh boy…

It was like a switch flipped and everything just got turned on its head. Camden would wake up with the damn birds and it was everyone’s business to know that she was awake, what with her blaring the damn Spice Girls while making her morning tea. She never put away her dishes or hung up her towels and left her laundry in her hamper until it was bursting at the seams, don’t even get her started on how many fucking times they’ve nearly broken their ankles on that damn dance bag. And the fact that she would just rearrange the furniture in the living, claiming she needed the space to rehearse after Bosco had just fixed it after the last time. 

Needless to say, they were livid.

So she paid it right back to her. She waited until the last second to do chores, cranked the AC and heat no matter what she whined about and brought all the girls back she wanted to. That was the one that really got the redhead, waking up still early as ever and looking much less rested than usual while they sat there with their neck covered in hickeys and whatever chick she picked up from the bar was hanging off her side. That one really seemed to grind the British girl's gears, huffing and muttering under her breath as she stomped off to her room to hide.

They would get into so many arguments and just scream at each other, it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten more complaints from their neighbors about it. The one thing they had in common was their stubbornness. Neither one of them was going to back down and give in until the other did which would never happen, creating such a hostile cycle their supposed home was its own separate battlefield.

She turned over in their bed again, pulling up the covers as the wind picked up outside, throwing white flurries around without a care in the world. The snow was starting to come down harder… surely it’ll be nothing. The most they’d gotten was barely two inches, there’s no way they’d get more than 4, maybe 6 if she was really pushing it. They yawned and curled into her pillow, eyes growing heavy as they fell into a dreamless sleep.

“Bosco!”

Shit. She groaned, rubbing their bleary eyes before sitting up in their bed. It was too fucking early for this. What the hell was she screaming about already? She got up, albeit slowly and not in the rush her roommate's voice told her she should be in, putting on her robe before stepping out of her room. “Good morning to you too, Annie.”

Camden huffed, standing in just her pajama pants and a baby tee that barely covered her chest. Thank goodness she was crossing her arms cause they did not want to see that this early in the morning. “Look outside.”

“Really? That’s why you woke me up? To look out the damn window.” 

“Just look.”

Bosco huffed and muttered some choice words under her breath before looking out the front window of their apartment. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah holy shit.” She scoffed. Outside, all they could see was white. Snow was piled high, completely covering her car in their parking space. She went to the door and unlocked it, trying to push it open but failed. She tried a few more times before Camden piped up. “Lose all your muscles or something?”

“It won’t open.”

“I can see that. Here, let me do it.”

“Please, if we’re talking about muscles then you aren’t one to talk.” She huffed, getting away from the door and watching the redhead put all her weight on the door. It didn’t move a single inch and Camden flushed in embarrassment, turning around to face Bosco’s look of ‘I told you so’.

 “So…”

“We’re snowed in.” They said flatly. “Great.” 

Perfect. Just perfect. This is exactly how she wanted to be spending her weekend. They ran a hand through her dark hair, trying to come up with a plan or some sort of escape route that wasn’t clawing out her damn eyes. “I’m going to check on the breaker and sinks. It’s cold out so we might have to run them so the pipes don't freeze.”

Camden nodded. “I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.” It didn’t have her normal bite most of their exchanges did and it confused them to a degree but she nodded, the two of them splitting up and going their separate ways. 

It could’ve been worse. They still had electricity, which was a damn miracle with these ancient ass apartments the school provided. Water was all good and they got a notification from campus, advising them to stay where they were and not go out. “No shit Sherlock.” They rolled their eyes walking back to the living room and seeing Camden sitting on the couch, looking stressed as she bounced her knee nervously. She looked over to Bosco and got up with an elegance only a dancer could for such a simple action. “How bad is it?”

“We’ve got power and water so we should be fine. Campus put out a message saying they’re sending out plows based on priorities so we’re probably going to be stuck here a while.” They said nonchalantly, heading to the kitchen as if it were just a normal day.

“Did they say how long it could be?” She urged, following behind the brunette.

“It’ll be hours, maybe even tomorrow.” They guessed, popping a keurig cup into the machine as they waited for the water to heat. That made the redhead tense up. A whole day? That was too long, there’s no way they would be stuck in here for an entire day. The machine finished dropping the black liquid into their mug and nearly immediately Bosco drank, hissing a little at the burn but swallowing. She noticed Camden still standing there, looking like she was about to blow a fuse. “Well I’m heading back to bed.”

“Bed? But-”

“Look,” their voice sharp as she turned around to face them. “I’ll stay in my room unless I absolutely need something so don’t worry, I won’t get up in your business if you don’t get in mine, deal?” Camden was left in silence, a little taken aback at how straightforward and calm she was being considering the fact they were literally trapped inside! The dark haired girl took her silence as agreement before nodding. “Great, good talk.” They smiled with a faux politeness before turning on their heels and marching themselves back into their room, closing the door with a little force to punctuate their earlier comments.

She stood there in stunned silence before following her roommates lead, heading back to her own room. Camden fell back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s alright, everything’s going to be alright. It’s just a little snow. 

The day passed by and soon it was night, no snow plow ever came and the both of them were avoiding each other, just a typical day for them. Camden had three blankets wrapped around her under the comforter and was still shivering. She huffed and sat up. She knew Bosco must be freezing too, if anything a little less since they were always a furnace. She bit her lip and weighed her options before getting up, her fluffiest blanket wrapped around her and she opened her door, walking quickly across the hall and before she could even knock, the door opened to Bosco standing in the doorway.

The dark haired girl scanned her up and down, dressed in a baggy shirt and pants. “You cold too?”

“What do you think?” She quipped, managing to get her teeth to not chatter.

“Can we turn up the heat?”

“Yeah if you want to foot the bill.”

The redhead huffed. “Fine then. Make room.”

“Wha-” Before they could even finish, the redhead shouldered past her and into their room, plopping down on their bed and looking at her with her chin tilted up like she owned the damn place. “The hell are you doing?”

“Obviously we’re not turning up the heat so I’m staying warm with a demon from hell.” She got under their covers and Bosco could feel their eyes twitch. This fucking bitch..

“Fine.” They smiled politely before getting into bed with her. They grabbed a pillow and shoved it between them and Camden scoffed. “Really, a pillow wall?”

“You’re in my room, ballerina.” They looked over their shoulder at her. “My rules. Pillow wall or walk your happy ass back to your room.” Camden huffed and pulled her blanket up higher, turning away from Bosco. “Exactly.” They smirked before laying back down, facing away from her and sighing. It was going to be a long night.

They had about an hour of quiet and were just about to fall asleep when she heard Camden shift in the bed. “Bosco? Are you up?”

They groaned, eyes still closed. “I am now. What?”

“I’m freezing.”

“Go turn on the heat then.”

Camden groaned, not making any move to get up though. “Not everyone’s a demon that can heat an entire room.” The redhead snarked, glaring over the pillow between them.

“Oh please.” Bosco laughed without any humor. “If you’re trying to insult me, actually say something that’s hurtful, you tutu wearing bitch.” Camden grit her teeth and threw the pillow that was separating them right at Bosco’s face. 

Oh it was on. 

Both of them were throwing whatever they could grab at each other, all in a frenzy of anger before it all stilled when Camden felt hands holding down her wrists. She tried to squirm underneath her but Bosco’s hands had her pinned down, sitting on her hips and limiting her movement there as well. Both of them were glaring up at each other, panting and chests heaving before the anger and tension bled into… something else. As Bosco’s heart slowed they leaned down closer, dark curls falling in her face as she watched Camden’s eyes flit between her eyes and her lips. They were barely a breath away from each other when Bosco stopped, watching the redhead squirm again.

“Bosco.” She whispered, voice close to begging but she would never admit that.

“You still want that heater on?” They grinned, giggling a little bit as Camden rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile barely.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” There wasn’t any venom behind her words this time, only a tenderness they’d never shared before and god did it make her chest warm and fuzzy.

“That’s why you like me.”

“Who said that?” The brit cocked a brow, making both of them laugh before Bosco closed the distance, finally letting their lips touch. It wasn’t a hungry kiss but it was full of desire and wanting on both ends. Things started to click now, why Camden was so jealous every time Bosco brought someone home and why Bosco couldn’t stand the thought of Camden having any of her dancer friends over as they would always flirt with each other.

They pulled apart slowly and smiled at each other before Bosco laid back down, wrapping her arms around Camden as the redhead did the same, both of them pressing their bodies closer to each other as if their skin could fuse into one. Camden hummed and nuzzled into Boscos neck, relishing in the warmth. “Maybe I should come here more often. You are hotter than hell, in both ways.”

They laughed and pecked her forehead, pulling the covers over them tighter. “Why thank you, princess. I actually do like those tutus on you.”

“Because you can see all of my ass when I bend down.” She giggled, pecking her cheek. She sighed, looking out the window and smiling at the snow. “We should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Definitely.” Bosco smiled. “But those arguments were kinda hot if you think about it.”

Camden giggled and nudged their shoulder. “Honestly! You’re a crazy woman.”

“Hey, I’m not denying it.” Bosco snickered, rubbing her back. It was all so sudden but so natural at the same time, like they were always supposed to be like this, holding each other and giggling and laughing together. They talked for a few more hours, laughing and exchanging more kisses under the blankets as the sky grew darker and then lighter, the sun starting to come up. 

Camden saw out the window and giggled. “Maybe getting snowed in isn’t so bad after all.” 

“Maybe not.” Bosco smiled, kissing her again before yawning. “Now it’s definitely time for some sleep.”

“Right.” Camden giggled, pecking their lips one last time before cozying up into her arms again. If you told her that she would ever end up cuddling with Bosco and liking it, she would’ve laughed in your face. Bosco would’ve called you crazy but it was perfect, better than anything either of them could have imagined. She’d definitely have to tell Daya she’s not rooming with her next semester.

[puppywritesthings]

lady camden 🤝 veronica green

just love wearin' harnesses yknow

[artificialqueens]

🎁 And It's a Potion (Lady Camden x Bosco) for Puppy - Athena2

SECRET QUEEN 2022 by @buffyathena

Summary: Bosco works at a magic shop, and must track down her crush, Camden, after accidentally selling her a love potion.

A/N: I was so excited to do secret Santa and write this!! Thank you so much to Writ for helping me come with ideas and for beta-ing this, I seriously couldn't have done it without you. Puppy, I really hope you enjoy this, and have a great holiday!

(Title from Potion by Dua Lipa)

Inventory is never a fun day for Bosco over at Jinkx’s shop, and they have to do it twice a week. The bulk of what they sell is potions, which Jinkx brews themself, and which have a tendency to go haywire after more than a few days—hence the constant inventory of new ones. Jinkx had a never-ending supply of stories about things that had gone wrong, including a flying cat. So Bosco always makes sure to be careful when they lay out the new vials: ten love potions and ten sleep potions on the counter by the register, since they’re the most popular. Then they arrange the other products in rows of five on each shelf, containing potions, creams, and powders for healing minor illnesses, centering visions for psychics, and temporarily changing appearances, along with 20 others. The rest of the shop sells supplies and cauldrons and other usual witch supplies.

Bosco lines up the love and sleep potions, then whirls around when the bell rings, and in walks the one person who always makes the day better.

“Morning, Camden!” Bosco smiles cheerfully.

“Morning,” Camden returns, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. There are gray half-moons under her blue eyes, but they still light up with her smile. She’s been a constant fixture at the shop, mostly for sleeping potions so she could get some actual rest amid the flurry of ballet performances, or cream for all the aches and pains after.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Do you have any sleep potions?”

Bosco nods. “Shouldn’t you be able to sleep after all that dancing you do?”

“You would think.” Camden sighs. “Lately I think I’m thinking too much. About…stuff. Stuff I probably shouldn’t think about.” She quickly looks away from them, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket.

“You said ‘think’ way too much,” Bosco says. “Thinking sucks. That’s why I try not to.”

“I think that might be pretty obvious sometimes,” Camden teases, and Bosco grins.

“I’m gonna sue you for slandering my good name. That’s right, slander. That’s a word only us true intellectuals know.” They pat their chest proudly.

Bosco isn’t sure either of them fully knows what slander means, but people always say it on TV in situations just like this. And besides, it makes Camden laugh, her nose wrinkling up, and Bosco takes it as a win. They’re so distracted by the effects of their victory, in fact, that they grab a vial without really looking at it.

“About three sips of this should be good for the night,” Bosco says, ringing up the sale and sliding Camden the bottle.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. If that doesn’t work, you could always count horses,” Bosco suggests.

Camden blinks. “It’s sheep.”

“Horses are cooler. Fight me.”

Camden laughs again. “I’ll take your word for it.” And then she’s gone, her red hair waving behind her.

Bosco sighs and sags against the counter, their elbow knocking over the row of love potions. They pick them back up, heart skipping a beat when there’s only nine, instead of ten, like there should be.

Bosco forces in a breath. Maybe they’re just miscounting, or mixing things up. After all, the dark blue of the sleep potion is close to the purple love potion. Maybe too close, Bosco thinks, as a quick scan doesn’t help sort the potions out. Bosco tears a hand through their hair, then knocks the vials over again in the rush to count them properly. Ten sleep potions, just like they had marked down this morning. But only nine love potions.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Swearing this early is never a good sign.” Bosco looks up to see Jinkx in the doorway, bagel in hand.

“You do it every morning.”

“Exactly. So what’s the issue?”

“Camden took a love potion.”

“Did she drink it?” Jinkx asks around a mouthful of bagel, “Because it would make my life much easier if she did.” With all the feelings they didn’t want to admit, Bosco often spilled them all to Jinkx for hours at a time, then tried to deny they even felt that way for Camden at all. They’ve never convinced either of them.

“Well, shit, it’d be easier for me too if she drank it!” Bosco splutters. “But it was an accident. I wouldn’t give her one on purpose.”

Bosco would be lying if they said they hadn’t thought about it, just for a few seconds before shaking the temptation off. It would be easy, more than easy, to slip a few drops of a love potion into one of Camden’s sleep potions. Then she would fall in love with Bosco, and they wouldn’t have to make the first move, risk ruining their kind-of friendship. Wouldn’t have to admit they like Camden that much, in that way. But Bosco would never do that. They could never manipulate Camden like that, force her into loving them.

Jinkx nods to themself.

“Plus it’s really strong. Like, follow the person you love across the country and die for them like this is Romeo and Juliet strong. It could make her do something…bad.” Bosco doesn’t even want to think about Camden under the control of something that powerful. “Do you have, like, customer records or something? So I can call her?”

“I sell potions for a living, you tell me,” Jinkx says dryly.

Bosco groans. “How am I gonna stop her from taking it?”

“I guess you have to find her,” Jinkx says.

Bosco sighs and runs out the door. Camden usually goes to the Black Tea Shop in town after she visits, and that’s where they head.

Joe’s tea shop is normally a place Bosco loves, with black-and-white striped walls and spooky decor year-round, plus a piano wedged into the corner. But they tear inside, the door slamming into the wall, and look around breathlessly, giving a quick wave to Pythia – a regular customer at Jinkx's – before turning to Joe.

“Is Camden here?” they demand. Every part of their body is on alert; sweat trickles down their neck, heart racing from the run and from the worry.

“Sorry, love, she left a few minutes ago. Said she wanted her tea to-go today, so she could go home and take a nap.”

It robs Bosco of even more air. Not only is Camden already on her way home, but she’s clearly intending to take that potion when she gets there.

“Everything all right?” Joe’s tattooed, ring-covered hand settles over theirs, and Bosco’s face burns from the comfort.

“Do you know where she lives? It’s really important.”

Joe looks at them deeply, like he’s sizing them up, trying to decide if they’re worthy of the information. “You need to help her, don’t you?”

“How did you—”

“I just know sometimes,” he says firmly, and Bosco remembers that Jinkx has mentioned brewing potions or having séances with Joe before. “Her apartment isn’t far. I’ll write the information down for you.”

Paper in hand, Bosco shoots out several thank yous and runs off again. Camden’s apartment is nearby, which is good, because Bosco is not in shape or good at running. Why on Earth should anyone run unless they need to? Though running practice would have been helpful for this mess. Bosco just listens to their shoes pound over the sidewalk, hoping it isn’t too late to help Camden.

Camden’s confused, but she buzzes them into the apartment, and Bosco skips the elevator and sprints up three flights of stairs, because they’re already soaked in sweat and gasping for air.

Bosco knocks on the door, then bends over and sucks in air until Camden opens the door. She looks ready for bed, in sweatpants and a soft pink sweatshirt. The bags under her eyes look more pronounced, and it makes Bosco’s pounding heart ache. She has to look up to meet Bosco’s eyes, and they try not to think of how she’s just the perfect height for a forehead kiss.

“Bosco? What are you doing—”

“Don’t drink the potion I gave you!”

“Why? Are you trying to poison me?”

“No, it was an accident, but if you drink it, something really bad might happen. Please, you can’t drink it.”

Camden’s face shifts. “You’re serious,” she says, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows, and Bosco realizes that they’ve never been this serious with her; usually it’s a lot of joking and small talk. They’ve never even shown this much emotion around her. They try not to, afraid that any hint of deep emotion would reveal their true feelings to her. Feelings that are rising to the surface like lava preparing to erupt from a volcano.

Bosco nods, trying to collect their words. “I made a mistake and gave you the wrong one. It’s a love potion. A really strong one. It’ll make you fall madly and obsessively in love with the first person you see.”

It’s quiet, the confession just hanging in the air. Camden finally looks up at them, biting her lip. “If it weren’t for the obsession part, that might not be so bad.”

Bosco’s brain lags as they try to process it. “What do you…“ Camden looks at them again, more pointed. Bosco’s head spins. “You don’t…you like me?”

Camden nods, her cheeks flushed red. “I’ve liked you for a while, if I’m being honest. I’ve been wondering if I should tell, but then I kept thinking that would ruin everything.”

“Wait a minute.” Bosco thinks of the bags under Camden’s eyes, the tired set of her shoulders when she comes in the store lately, much more than normal.  “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Camden nods sheepishly.

“Camden! Why would you lose sleep over me? I’m not…I’m not worth that, I’m just…” Bosco trails off with a helpless shrug. They’ve never thought Camden saw them as anything other than the funny person she traded banter with at the magic shop. Surely Bosco, with their purposely-messy hair and dark jokes, wouldn’t be someone Camden, with all her perfection and grace, would crush on.

But Camden takes their hand, and shakes her head firmly. “You are worth that, Bosco. Do you not know how amazing you are? You make me laugh every day, and you’re so beautiful, and smart, and you’re so kind to everyone. You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Camden squeezes their hand as she talks, and it’s the only sign to Bosco that they’re really still here, because Camden’s words are running through their mind too fast. Camden really saw them in that way. Camden really liked them in that way. The feelings finally erupt, and Bosco floods with warmth, wondering why they denied telling Camden for so long.

“I, uh…”

“I’m sorry,” Camden says quickly. “I shouldn’t have told you all that, you probably don’t feel the same—”

“I do!” Bosco grips Camden’s hand, taking in her wide eyes. “I do like you that way. I just didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want to actually admit my feelings and let them out and get hurt.” It seems so ridiculous now, but Bosco’s had unrequited crushes before, and the memory of that constant heartache never really goes away.

“I understand.”

“But, um, would you ever want to go on a date? We could get dinner or something.” Bosco’s hesitation flies away, because it’s okay. Camden likes her back.

“I would love that! Can we do it later though?” Camden asks hesitantly. “I really do need a nap.”

“Hey, I’m the one who ran a damn marathon to get here!”

“I live barely ten minutes from the shop,” Camden says, unimpressed.

“Ten minutes that I fully sprinted, thank you.” Bosco makes a show of grabbing their shirt collar and showing Camden the sweat there. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out in the hall. I’m sure your landlord would love that.”

Camden grins. “Come in. We can take a nap together.”

Bosco squeezes her hand and follows her inside. 

[eliotquillon]

okay i clown on gedeon a lot because a) it’s funny and b) he deserves it a lot of the time but to be completely and utterly clear it is not Entirely His Fault that he is the way that he is. cassia presents the story of how he asked her out as some sweet anecdote (it was the day of both her return to camden and his ascension as alpha and he skived his responsibilities to meet her in their old childhood spot and give her her favourite sweets) but it very much reads to me as a panicked teenager trying to hide from the fact that he is very suddenly and completely having to Grow Up and so he latches onto cassia as a remnant of his childhood. to be completely honest i think cassia and gedeon were always doomed to fail because both of them approach their relationship as something they’re Expected To Do - cassia, because it’s the perfect fairytale ending that’s proof of the acceptance she’s always craved, and gedeon because cassia is his pretty childhood friend that he (in my opinion) genuinely likes but will also make for a politically advantageous match that’ll appease the other factions. i think it’s really telling that while in wayward cassia seems very aware of the fact that gedeon has feelings for her, she never actually mentions her feelings for HIM, and the first thing she does when ilsa brings up her relationship with gedeon is talk about how hester’s mother didn’t marry and had multiple partners. i think cassia fully expected the relationship to end at some point. gedeon just fucked up badly enough for it to end prematurely.

[blackbirdswillsing]

On Gothic

a cute helpful guide on the gothic subculture that no one asked for <3

goth music springing from the late 1970s after the post punk movement was a subculture heavily inspired by the themes found in victorian gothic literature

gothic literature:

frankenstein - mary shelley

dracula - bram stoker

jekyll and hyde - robert stevenson

wuthering heights - emily bronte

rebecca - daphne du maurier

edgar allen poe <3

some keywords that come from gothic literature that can help you spot a goth song:

'dark' 'death' 'black' 'cold' 'heaven' 'hell' 'witches 'bats' 'night' 'roses' 'blood' 'church' 'forest' 'jesus' 'grey' 'horror' 'shadow' 'sacrifice' 'tears' 'ghost' 'spells' 'cry' 'love' 'haunted' 'funeral' 'cathedral'

Some other themes in a song that can help you to decide if it goth or not can be:

heavy bass

synth sounds (the song sounds like it was recorded in an empty church)

mysterious and whimsical vocals

deep vocals

lack of a (electric) guitar

The 1980's and 90's were the peak for the gothic subculture, especially in camden market, london, england

Some bands that were prominent at the time were...

Bauhaus

The Cure

Sisters of Mercy

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Christian Death

Clan of Xymox

The Cramps

Depeche Mode

New Order

Joy Division

Alien Sex Fiend

Fields of the Nephilim

Killing Joke

The Damned

Nick Cave

Softcell

Some other goth band recs:

Boy Harsher

Children on Stun

Earth Calling Angela

Molchat Doma

Forever Grey

Horror Vacui

Lebanon Hanover

London After Midnight

Male Tears

The March Violets

The Merry Thoughts

Paradise Lost

Paralysed Age

Plastique Noir

Rendez Vous

Rosetta Stone

Selofan

She Wants Revenge

Skinny Puppy

Specimen

This Cold Night

Tragic Black

Traitrs

Type O Negative

Twin Tribes

ULTRA SUNN

Xmal Deutschland

Your Funeral

The 69 Eyes

Please let me know which ones i've missed because these are just ones that I have taken from my own playlist!

The music is the number one most important part of goth subculture and you don't have to dress goth to be goth... but it sure is fun to do so! Goth fashion holds its roots in thrifting, upcycling and sustainable fashion (buying 'goth' clothes from shein, dollskill and killstar is a big no no).

Anyone can style their gothic outfits however they like but here are some examples of different styles:

Trad(itional) Goth:

Romantic Goth:

Victorian Goth:

The styles can get very similar so let me know if i’ve mixed any up!

I’ve reached the limit on the number of pictures i can add so here are some more examples of goth styles:

Corporate goth

Gothabilly

Mall Goth

Cyber Goth

J-Goth

Baby Bat

Mopey Goth

Vampire Goth

Steam punk

To end the post i'm circling back to gothic literature by listing some films too (which are often based on the books)

Everyone's beloved: Bela Lugosi in the first adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula in 1931

The Crow 1994 which comes with a song from The Cure

Interview with the Vampire 1994

The Rocky Horror Picture Show 1975

Edward Scissor Hands 1990

The Addams family 1991 (if he's not like gomez then i don't want him)

The Craft 1996

That's all I have for now and if you made it this far thank you so much for reading and have a nice day <3

current goth song on repeat:

[rexlroze]

𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes. 

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in. 

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day. 

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you. 

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Just Papa Solomons Things:

Summertime Edition

TH Masterlist

- More sex than usual. At least four times a week, unless he thinks it will impact your health too much or you are on your period.

- I’m not joking and we all know it.

- The man seems like a wolf in rut during the season.

- It’s seriously as if he has puppy fever, mumbling how you’d make the perfect mother and he wants a family with you while delirious with pleasure to a degree he usually isn’t.

- Those types of comments only leaves his lips in summer.

- Along with the effort to keep going until the condom rips if you don’t give in to his pleas to take it off first.

- Werewolf!Alfie would certainly have puppy fever. Imagine the possessive breeding sessions. I… I can’t🥵

- Now, clothes are definitely optional according to Alfie. However, whereas he usually at least keeps on a pair of knickers or jeans (if he really wants to meet you halfway) he’ll be buck-naked from the moment he comes home.

- Speaking of which, he loves coming home to you. Funnily enough, ever since you started dating, Alfie’s become a lot more domestic. It’s that he’s the breadwinner (no pun intended), but he’d be happy to be a house husband.

- Barbecues and vegan cooking galore. Barely an evening passes by whereby you two don’t treat the neighbourhood to delicious smells.

- Rum, tea, and coffee in the yard beneath the pomegranate tree until the sun sets.

- Alfie’s bought you various silk nightgowns and pieces of lingerie. Partially to keep you cool, mostly because he loves how you tend to creep out of your shell whenever you wear it.

- He loves how you’ve grown more comfortable with it, adores it how you’ve grown to love your body. Yourself.

- Beach trips on his days off, which are quite a few. Ollie will literally shoo him out of the bakery if you don’t come get him yourself without having to be prompted by a phone call. The two of you have banded together to combat The Mad Baker of Camden’s workaholic nature.

- And you know he works a lot to provide for you (and save up for a ring), but his health isn’t the best and you dread the prospect of him in a hospital bed.

- So you and Ollie literally force him to take time off.

- Alfie loves it when you put sunscreen on his back, the way you massage it into the damaged skin and help him relieve some of the constant tension his years in the army and running the bakery have left him with.

- If the weather is pleasant enough and his leg’s okay, Alfie likes to take you on day trips by motorcycle. However, if it’s going to be a long one, he’ll simply drive.

- Impromptu overnight stays if you two lose track of time on the days you do go by bike. Can’t have you falling asleep in the backseat, so a hotel it is.

- Alfie likes to make sure there’s a carafe filled with ice water in the bedroom at all times. Partially because his house can get pretty stuffy, being one of those old English houses not built to keep out the summer heat.

- Mostly to keep you hydrated after yet another round of animalistic yet intimate lovemaking.

- On the hottest of the dog days he’ll put a carafe and glass on both your bedside tables.

- If sleep doesn’t come to either of you, you’ll sit in the living room, watching Margate at night.

- Although, occasionally you join Alfie in his midnight baking ventures.

- Slow dancing in the kitchen, especially then.

- Alfie isn’t much of a dancer, but he likes to softly sway with you while you’re waiting for the oven.

- Regardless of the heat, you’ll both have one cup of hot coffee during breakfast to get a proper start on the day. However, ice coffee rules supreme for the hours thereafter.

- Alfie prefers iced vanilla latte or regular latte, having a bit of a sweet tooth. You, on the other hand, like the complete opposite: americano and cold brew.

- Nevertheless, there’s an old saying that opposites attract.

- And that he insist on paying for your caffeine boosts.

- Because he’s your man.

- And what good is a king who can’t provide for his queen?

Tag list: @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons @buttercupsandboys @dreamlandcreations @rose-like-the-phoenix @zablife @babaohhhriley @hecatemoon87 @vir-tual @wandawiccan60 @solomons-finest-rum @mollybegger-blog

[holyangelstudentuniverse]

Teen Wolf kid mystery AU:

Beacon Hills' local libraries put on monthly mystery events for kids of all ages. The greatest mystery authors' books are in the spotlight, the kids are divided into teams of 5 and the librarians give out clues at the beginning of the events. Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Jackson, and Danny are usually grouped together, but Jackson and Lydia are fighting again, which means the redhead is off doing something else instead, Scott has recently befriended the new girl, Kira, and Isaac Lahey and gives some major puppy eyes, meaning this month, Stiles is grouped with the Hales. Cora is the only one near his age, her siblings and uncle being several years older. The first clue leads to a book about hiding things in plain sight, which leads them to a window with a couple plants, one of which is a fake that has the next clue taped to the bottom. The clues lead them all over the town throughout the month, hidden in random places like the photo wall at the diner, or underneath the slide at the park. Stiles and the Hales are in the lead.

At 6 years old, Stiles is already really good at solving mysteries and no one else has come close. Until Peter, who's practically an adult at 17, and treats Stiles like one as well. Stiles is in love. Or as in love as a 6 year old can be.

Scott's group ends up winning by accident when Isaac's dad is arrested, Isaac and Camden waiting in the Sheriff's office, when the younger picks up a book on cyphers that was left on a short bookcase and opens it to find the last clue.

[evita-shelby]

Romeo and Juliet

Or two little girls take on the Bard

@raincoffeeandfandoms @zablife

Two households, both alike in dignity, in Camden Gardens where we lay our scene.

Beast of House Solomons and Xoco of House Shelby, two starcrossed lovers and fierce protectors of their young mistresses.

Beast ---held up by young Allie Solomons--- speaks as if struck by cupid as he gazed into the loving eyes of his beloved, “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

His beloved Xoco --- held up by young Diane Shelby--- responds with equal love and adoration, “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

The girls’ mothers sit amused on the picnic blanket and enjoy this bizarre rendition of the Bard’s most famous work as two eight year old girls use their dogs instead of their dolls to mock the amateur performance just beyond them.

“Mamá, they won’t kiss, how do you make them kiss?” Diane Shelby turns to her mother for guidance when her actors refuse to collaborate with her.

“Here let me,” Rose said getting the peanut butter from the basket and handing some to her daughter, after all, it is Romeo who kissed Juliet, or so she said.

And sure enough Beast kisses Xoco just as the young lady playing Juliet says: “You kiss by the book.”

“How do you feel about puppies, Rosie?” Eva asked seeing how well her long-hair chihuahua gets along with her short hair leading man.

[puppywritesthings]

me when i see camdens big naturals

I can’t believe this is my BRAND now /lh

[artificialqueens]

🎁 Let Me Read You a Story (Lady Camden x Angeria Paris VanMichaels) for Athena2 - Puppy

SECRET QUEEN 2022 by @puppywritesthings, for @buffyathena

Summary: Camden can't sleep, and Angeria helps.

A/N: I wish this could have been longer, but to be honest, I have been lacking motivation, having been hit with the poison known as writer's block. Enjoy nearly 300 words of just wholesome fluff!

(Title from "I Don't Know" from Ghost Quartet)

--

She couldn’t sleep, and everything she tried didn’t help. For the past several nights, Camden was stuck in a strange cycle of insomnia to the point she was borderline nocturnal. Only madmen could have If she stared any longer at that Google Doc, her eyes would possibly burn out of her skull.

Before any kind of burning could begin, she felt a soft hand sneak towards one of hers still clacking on the keyboard. Rather than resist the urge to swat it away, she let it lift that hand off the keyboard. “You’re going to bed.”

Camden reluctantly let her girlfriend close the laptop, closing her eyes to get rid of some of the strain. Before she could protest any further, Angeria continued. "I know this project is important, but it's not due til the end of the week.

"I've lost count." The redhead admitted. “Anyway, would a cup of sleepytime tea and a Five Hour Energy cancel each other out?”

Angie put her head into her hands as Camden straightened her posture. "I don't want to find that out. I'm sure there's another way to get you to sleep faster."

"Well, what do you suggest?" "Want me to..." The other girl turned her face away, almost embarrassed that this was the first thing that came to mind, "read you a bedtime story?"

The offer sounded unbelievably corny at first. Camden was a grown woman who wasn't afraid of the monsters under the bed or the shadows on the wall. She wasn't someone who needed to be soothed to sleep by a comforting voice. However, Angie was the kind of girl who made the dictionary sound appealing. And no matter how often she got to hear that voice, hearing it again. "Why not? Want to tuck me in too?" She teased.

"Of course."

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel’s Pooch Is A Gift From Above!

When Jessica Biel came home to find her bulldog, East, with a mouthful of pink leather and ribbons, she was so mad she had to laugh. “I had left him home alone for an hour and he got into my closet, went into my ballet bag and took out my new point shoes.  I caught him with a pink ribbon dangling out of his mouth.  He looked up at me  with his big underbite, as if to say ‘Hmm?’ – with such a dopey looking face.”   East, an English and American bulldog mix was adopted by Biel’s beau, Chris when the two were just friends, but soonafter they became a couple – no – an inseperable threesome.  East is still brimming with puppy-ness  –  he’s very excitable – and a bit clutzy.  “He’s such a goon,” says Jessica affectionately, “he literally runs just as fast as he can and he’ll run into things!” She admits that East is a lousy judge of character, because he loves everybody.  “If you are going to pet him, he’ll fall in love with you – even if you are robbing the place!”

East was named by Biel as a tribute to the East Coast where Chris, a Massachusetts native, grew up.  The dog, though, seems to have fully embraced the California lifestyle.  At home, his favorite resting place is a dog bed made by Primative Pet, adorned with surfboards, although, Biel admits, “he sneaks up on my bed in the morning.”

Biel is best known for her role as Mary Camden on WB’s Seventh Heaven, a show revolving around the life of a Reverend and his ever-growing Rockwell-esque family.  The show, touted for its strong values and life lessons, often featured the family’s dog, Happy Camden. East and Happy did occasionally meet, as Jessica would bring her bulldog to the set all the time, but she reports, “Happy is a little skittish and East always wants to jump and play around.  I think she was a little scared of him.”

There is nothing to fear in this gregarious dog, unless you are a flower.  Yes, flora ranks as one of East’s favorite treats.  “He’ll rip them out of the ground and eat them and continue to walk down the street,” she laughs.  So much for having a garden!

According to Jessica, East has traveled many times by plane, but it is not so comfortable for such a big dog.  Biel says, “It’s very difficult to fly an animal his size – any longer than to Boston and the sedatives wear off and he’s hungry and he has to go to the bathroom.  I try not to fly with him so much.”  Car travel is more East’s speed, and Jessica has driven him across the country, opting not to fly.  “He’s great in the car.  He sticks his head out the window and his big floppy lips flap in the wind. It’s so cute.”  When he cannot accompany the actress or her boyfriend on a trip, East stays at the Calgrove Kennels, a boarding facility that Jessica raves about – describing the inside-outside facility with grassy areas and plethora of toys East can play with.  According to Jessica, it’s the next-best-thing to having East come along with them.

Jessica Biel, best known as the preacher’s daughter Mary Camden on Seventh Heaven, thinks her bulldog, East, is a gift from above!

Jessica says she worries about some of the health issues typical to East’s breed – bulldogs are notorious for having problems with their faces due to the wrinkes.  “He has some eye problems due in part to bad allergies.  On top of that, his lower eyelashes curl in and scratch his cornea.  He’s already had surgery on his right eye but it didn’t work.   He is due to have a second surgery soon.  It’s a serious situation, but we have a very good eye doctor for East.”  More than the surgery, it’s the recovery process Biel is concerned about.  “He will want to scratch and rub his eye so he will have to wear a contact lens as an extra layer of protection as well as a cone on his head to keep him from getting to his eye. It’s is really up to us to make sure he stays sedated for the week, contacts in, cone on, no scratching and no rubbing.”

Jessica loves East and understands what is involved when caring for an animal.  “It’s such a large responsibility.  I don’t think anyone realizes how much of a responsibility an animal is until they get one.   You can’t go out all night long.  You can’t spend the night at someone’s house without making sure someone’s watching him.  It has really changed my life a lot, but I don’t think I could live without him!”

Jessica has had animals growing up, and looks forward to seeing her two family pets Freckles and Kit Kat whenever she goes home.  “Freckles is this adorable Cocker spaniel who I have had since I was ten years old.  He’s this nice little old guy who follows my mom around no matter where she goes.  I’ve had Kit Kat forever.  She’s been alive since I was six years old – we rescued her from an animal shelter.  She’s a little skittish because she was abused as a kitten.”

Biel also has a cat named Blue who she adopted from a woman in Santa Monica who was finding homes for abused animals.  “I saw this white cat with blue eyes and called my dad and said, ‘we have to save this animal.’  I took him home and now he lives with my family.”  East did get an opportunity to meet his extended family, but Biel says, “My cats didn’t know what to think of him.  Freckles liked him but he’s a little bit old and East gets so excited, Freckles was like ‘alright puppy, chill out a little bit’”  East did get to expend his energy hiking in the Colorado mountains near Biel’s family home.

Since leaving Seventh Heaven, she has explored very different roles – an indulgent vixon in Brett Easton Ellis’s Rules of Attraction, and most recently, as Erin Hardesty in the remake of horror classic, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  She’s also the face of Loreal, changing her hair color for the roles.   She says [changing my hair color] does not affect me as a person, but it does affect my wardrobe.”

Blonde or bruenette, Biel is always concerned with saving animals and giving her own pets the best care they can get.  She is involved with Fund For Animals, which Biel says, “promotes vegetarian and vegan diets and calls for the end of hunting – especially hunting for furs.  I don’t agree with people wearing furs.”  Jessica has also found a new charity, Noah’s Wish, that has sparked her interest.  She says, “you can be trained as a volunteer to save a dog, cat – any animal – in a disaster. You can also volunteer to foster an animal, so if a family has a dog and they had a flood or their home was destroyed by hurricane and they feel like they have to get rid of the animal because they can’t afford it or their living situation is not regular, you can take it in.  I would love to do that.”  Jessica says determinedly, “That’s what I’m going to work on next.”

For more information about Noah’s Wish, go to www.noahs-wish.org.

Source: Animal Fair, January 2003

[angel-inked]

What happens when you find them asleep?

You come home and call out to your significant other to alert them to your presence but get no answer 🤔

Had the idea for this at like 2-something AM lol

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @inkwolvesandcoffee @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @potter-solomons

Muscle boi

"Bebe, I'm home!". No response, that's odd. Tommy just about always greets you like a loyal dog when you get home, quite literally like a dog, because then it turns into him wanting nothing but your attention. That's where you're different, Tommy usually silently stares at someone with an annoyed glare until they leave him alone, but for you? He's basically a sweet saint bernard who still thinks he's a lap puppy.

What worries you is you know he's home, cause otherwise the door wouldn't have been unlocked. You start cautiously making your way around the house, not exactly eager to poke your head around corners, as the last time this happened, Tommy came up behind you and scared you shitless! "Come on! I was just playin' with you!" You recalled his voice that day, as he was laughing his ass off.

Finally, you found yourself in the living room. Hearing some kind of light thunderstorm ambiance playing, the kind Tommy likes to listen to when he's trying to calmly fall asleep. That explains why he didn't greet you at the door. You moved toward the couch, leaning your elbows on the back of it.

Sure enough, Tommy was sleeping and peacefully for once! It wasn't uncommon for him to wake up in a panic in the middle of the night only to refuse to tell you what's wrong when you calm him down. Cypress, your tabby and white ragdoll, mewed up at you from her spot, curled up against and being kept nice and warm by Tommy's stomach, her head and paw resting on his side.

You smirked to yourself seeing Tommy had the stuffed Valentine's bear you gave him locked in a death grip, clinging to it like his life depended on it. Maybe something to hold on to was all he needed to fall asleep and actually stay asleep, as cute as the sight before you was you couldn't help but snicker to yourself as you remembered Tommy asking you what he, an MMA fighter, was supposed to do with a child's toy.

"So much for the stupid bear".

The chaotic duo!

You groaned tiredly as you walked into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend and his partner, "Eddie? V? you guys in here?" You called. The TV was on, and a certain symbiote was clicking through the channels, "ya know for literally being an alien from another planet, you sure do like sitcoms" you giggled, walking up to the couch and sitting on the arm rest.

Glancing down, you saw Eddie fast asleep, lips slightly parted as soft snores escaped the back of his throat. "How long as he been like this?" You asked, looking back up at the black mass that was attached to Eddie at the shoulder. "Two hours," Vemon's voice rumbled, "Puny human is always tired". "Hey! Who the hell saved you from becoming another failed lab experiment?" You scolded. Vemon looked down at Eddie, almost shamefully.

It wasn't uncommon for you to scold the symbiote as if you were scolding a child, Eddie looked terrified the first time you did. Vemon, however, just hid inside of Eddie and refused to come back out, that's when Eddie's expression turned to amazement, "I never would've believed Vemon could be scolded without someone losing their head if I hadn't seen it for myself!".

"Big scary alien my ass! Eddie's self-esteem is already low enough without adding your mockery to the mix". You didn't care about Vemon's ungodly amount of teeth, and you certainly weren't afraid of them. Eddie and Vemon occasionally acted of one mind, but when they didn't... "Sorry" Vemon mumbled. "Alright," you sighed, patting Vemon on the head, and held a snickers out to the alien from your pocket, knowing how hangry the symbiote could be.

"You're not you when you're hungry".

Camden's King

After what you and your husband called work, you discovered what you thought was Alfie relaxing in the parlor after a long day. What you actually discovered was Alfie Solomons asleep on the couch, still clutching a glass of bourbon.

You glance down at Cyril, who was laying his head atop Alfie's crossed feet. Cyril perked his ears up and let out a small whine as you looked at him. "Yep, there's the big bad gang leader everyone's afraid of" you hummed to yourself, a smirk resting lazily on your face. Gently freeing the glass from Alfie's grip, you opted to down the rest of the liquor yourself, waste not want not.

"Not bad, good taste Mr. Solomons" you thought, setting the glass on the coffee table. Carefully draping a blanket over his sleeping form, a groan emerged from the back of his throat as he slightly adjusted himself. The groan was a satisfied sound, he was comfortable "goodnight Alfie" you whispered, brushing a few strands of redish brown hair back from his face.

"Yea, it is with you 'ere" he mumbled, slipping more and more into slumber. You smiled. It feels good to finally feel needed. Life in Camden will certainly be quieter without my brothers trailing after me, good riddance, I say!

Sweet dreams highflyer..

A small cottage in the English countryside, a garden with a white picket fence around it, what more could you ask for? Your beloved. Since yesterday, Farrier's aviator's hat has been hanging on the coat rack by the door. You had heard word from Collins that Farrier had been captured by the Gremen, which is why you were rendered speechless when he showed up on the doorstep with a boutique of wildflowers in hand.

"The garden looks lovely" he said after you stared at him blankly for a moment, as if unsure what you were staring at was even real. He doesn't seem too keen to explain what happened, Farrier never was one for what he considered idle chatter, for he spoke with purpose only. He'll come around at his own pace, he always does.

The lady at the shop expressed her apologies for your love becoming a victim of the war. It seems you're the only one who knows Farrier came home. Well, except for Collins, probably. Once you were home with your shopping, you called out to him, "Farrier?". Nothing, walking into the living room, you found him.

Catching up on sleep, something you're sure he hasn't done much of for some time. You smiled while gazing at his sleeping figure, messy brown hair, loose-fitting clothes, and Confetti, the black and white border collie, loyally guarding his side as he slept. "Good girl," you grinned, rubbing her head. Farrier called her Confetti after you gave her to him for his birthday. You gently lay a light blanket over him and kiss his forehead,

"Sweet dreams highflyer."

Criminal.

Criminal. One of the many things your family called him, did you care? Hell no! You ran with Forrest and his brothers as teenagers and had no plans on stopping now. "Howdy!" Howard smiled with a tip of his hat, holding the screen door as you walked in and walked out after you gave him a smile.

You wondered through the station to the middle brother's office, nodding to Maggie as you passed through the barroom. Coming to a stop in front of his office door, you gave it a little knock. No answer. You push the door open to poke your head in, seeing Forrest in his desk chair.

His head flopped over to the side, and the steady raising and falling of his chest confirmed your suspicions that he was sleeping. Keeping Howard and Jack in line could prove to be quite a tiring task. A smile lined your lips as a groan emerged from the back of his throat as you ran your hand through his hair.

"Forrest," you said quietly, gently prodding him to wake up. He was definite for a moment, scrunching up his features and lightly pushing your hand away from his arm. Finally, he relented. Opening his eyes halfway to look up at you.

"Let's get you to bed, shall we? Your neck and back will thank me later."

[poebot]

Hobie Brown/Genderless Reader | Affection Makes the World Go ‘Round

It was nearly 3AM. You were up late, as per usual. It was hard to get much sleep knowing that Hobie was out there in the streets of Camden putting his life at risk to protect the innocent. Worse yet, he rarely made it a habit to come home this late. He says it’s cause even spiders sleep, but you know deep down that your boyfriend is aware of how anxious you get without him here.

When you finally heard a knock on your bedroom window, you looked over to see Spider-Punk. He was sitting on the edge of your balcony trying his hardest to look tough whilst compressing his side, his mask a little torn up at the edges. Laceration on the left of the abdomen, potentially from a knife wound. You took a mental note of his condition knowing your boyfriend tended to play down his injuries.

“Alright, let’s get you patched up then.” You sighed, opening up the windows wide as he clambered inside and threw his ragged mask to the ground. You tried to remain nonchalant about the injury in an attempt to go down the path of least resistance. This routine was inevitable; the more you worried, the more he deflected. You now had it down to a science.

“I’m just peachy. Thanks for asking, you geezer.” His tone was sarcastic as he approached you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, leaning down enough to brush your lips in a subtle kiss. A masterful avoidance tactic that you couldn’t help but give in to, offering your mouth up for more. He happily took advantage of your willingness by trying to deepen the kiss, but you were quick to pull away once you realised he was trying to avoid discussing his wounds. He frowned, caught.

“You’re practically indestructible, Hobbie, I barely worry anymore.” You smiled into his mouth, trying to joke back and ease tensions despite neither of you being too convinced. The charade was short lived when you could no longer ignore the way his shirt was turning rouge-r by the second.

“Jesus, that’s a bad gash. Please let me help you disinfect it.” He grimaced as you mentioned it as though just remembering it was there. He looked as though he might resist, but Hobie was no match for your puppy-eyes. “Fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He huffs, laying flat against your bedroom floor to allow you to get to work.

Hobbie watches you from his place on the ground, always observing as though he’s calculating his next move as you bustle around for your first aid kit. You try to act normally as though you don’t notice the feeling of his eyes lingering.

“If I was actually indestructible you wouldn’t feel the need to play nurse all the time, now would you?” He said, wincing when his attempt at a chuckle only worsened his condition. “Good one.” You acknowledged, “Lay down and be quiet.”

Hobie looked almost like a kicked puppy all beat up like this, so you try to make quick work of taking off his blood soaked shirt (“If you wanted me to strip you could’ve just asked darling,”) and pressing disinfectant into his wounds (“You truly are a little sadist.”) You finish wiping down his stomach and bandage it up with medical gauze before pinching his cheek playfully. “There, all better. So how was the fight?”

He makes a weak attempt at escaping from your grasp but is quick to give in, allowing you to pull and prod at his face. “Hey, watch those hands.” Hobie jokes, pretending to chomp at where your fingers were. You stifle a laugh as your brain conjures up a mental image of him as an angry dog at the groomers.

“It was fine, just one dumb crook. I could’ve finished the fight earlier but whatever...” The joking tone was gone from his voice, and Hobie sounded genuinely aggravated at the idea of having left you waiting. His bottom lip jutted out and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. You felt yourself melt a little at how much he cared despite his snark. The thought warmed you up from the inside out. You tried to not let the sappiness of your emotions filter into your voice, opting for the safe option of teasing him instead.

“How’d you end up this beat up? You might be losing your touch, Spider-Punk”

“You try fist fighting a drunk racist with a knife” he groaned, stretching out his sore neck. You giggle, watching as he props himself up on his elbows, leaning back onto your bed. It’s almost like your boyfriend is allergic to sitting on things normally.

You take the rare moment of silence to just… stare at him. You take in his beautiful features that are only complimented by his array of piercings, the masculinity in his strong facial structure, the beauty of his endless head of hair. It was just all so him. And you adored every part of him.

It was truly not fair how pretty Hobie was. And sexy, your brain helpfully adds. Yeah. That too.

”Like what you see?” His deep voices interrupts your mental undressing and you barely manage to stifle a squeak. His cocky smirk makes you roll your eyes, way too smug in having caught you in the act. “C’mere…” Hobie beckons for you, and as you approach he yanks suddenly on your arm to get you to sit down on his lap.

“Wah!” Hobie snorts at the noise you make as you land, peppering kisses to your burning cheeks. “Thanks for looking after me, love.” The affection and sincerity in his voice flusters you to no end.

Your first instinct is to bury your face into the warmth of his neck to avoid the loving way his eyes pierce into yours. “You’re welcome, Hobie…” Your voice comes out high and muffled.

[waiting-to-be-lost-at-sea]

okay but @spookyblazecoffee I need more Lahey bros canon pls bcuz can you imagine Theo’s first meeting with the brothers/Stiles & Scott

Theo mistakes Scott & Stiles for being the Laheys. Scott & Stiles decide to prank him. All while Liam is at a University class.

The actual Lahey bros get there and Theo thinks they are Scott & Stiles. The four of them decide to continue the charade.

Theo thinks he’s messing up, esp. when Stiles and Isaac mention things about Liam he didn’t even know.

Theo runs off after texting Liam that he was going to stay at his own apartment that night.

Liam gets home pissed off. Puppy pack in tow. Stiles, Scott, Issac & Jordan/Camden have to fix it. Corey, Tracy & Josh join them in finding Theo.

Theo realised that they were pranking him just because Liam’s the baby of the family. Theo tells them they are a bunch of assholes that Liam is an absolute angel for dealing with them.

Liam wakes up to a knock on the door and it’s Theo with breakfast all tied up in a bow with a note. He drags his boyfriend in and they have ‘the talk’. Theo proposes while Liam asks if he wanted to move in together.

Laheys & Stiles & Scott are with the puppy pack. They find out Liam was dating Theo ever since HS and Theo was Liam’s first. Overprotective brother instincts kick in but Hayden, Gabe, Josh & Mason keep them from going back to the apartment. Esp. When Liam messages them a ring on his finger.

All I can think of is all of Liam’s brothers/brother-figures going “OVER MY DEAD BODY”.

[buttercupsandboys]

The Pickpocket - Alfie x Reader ❄️

Hello and Merry Christmas! 🎄 This is my super last minute contribution to @raincoffeeandfandoms Christmas Fic Event!

I haven’t written in a while (it’s been so long that I can’t even get onto Tumblr from my laptop 🙈) so I’m posting this from my phone. So please excuse if:

My writing is a bit rusty

The formatting is horrible (will try and fix later!)

Request: Alfie x Reader, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mild smut and angst (I hope!)

Summary: Sometimes life doesn’t go as planned, but with big risks come big rewards.

Word count: 2150

Camden Town, 1907

She wasn’t Jewish, and his mother would never approve, but fuck, she was beautiful.

Y/N had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

She was a thief. A pickpocket and a good one too. But seeing as what Alfie did for a living wasn’t exactly legal, he didn’t hold it against her.

It didn’t hurt that she stuck to her own people.

In fact, Y/N seemed to find a certain joy in stealing from the Sunday crowds as they emptied from the churches like rain from the heavens.

Alms for the poor, she liked to say.

At nineteen, Alfie wasn’t a virgin, which meant he knew enough to worry for his young friend.

Although, in truth, he wasn’t sure about her age. Life on the streets made people cold, hard and brittle beyond their years.

But then Y/N’s eyes…

Those big, beautiful eyes would be a blessing had she been born to a wealthy family. He imagined her sheltered and protected while batting those long lashes at a line of potential suitors.

But there was no wealthy family.

There wasn’t any family.

Which left no one but Alfie to worry when those innocent eyes would get her into trouble.

Someone would take her.

Or maybe one day, too many pockets would turn up empty, and she would make a choice he didn’t like to think about.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Alfie grumbled as he watched Y/N slip through the crowds like sand through an hourglass. She flashed a wide grin as she approached, slyly presenting him with a silver pocket watch. He wasn’t impressed. “I saw him, Y/N. He was a big fucker. You’re taking too many risks, pet.”

“The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” Y/N teased, slipping a hand along the inside of his arm. It wasn’t proper, but it always made him stand a bit taller. “Don’t go soft on me, Alfie.”

He scoffed. “Someone needs to go hard on you. That’s the problem.”

Y/N stopped and spun around, looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference.

“And that’s gonna be you one day, Alfie?”

He shifted uncomfortably, straining against his trousers, and wondered if Y/N knew what she did to him.

“Damn fucking straight.”

He saw her the next morning, dancing in the snow.

“It’s fucking cold, Y/N.”

“It’s fucking beautiful, Alfie.”

The holidays were approaching, and while neither cared much for tradition, there was no denying something in the air.

A festive spirit, you might call it.

As Alfie watched her catch snowflakes with her tongue, cheeks pink from the cold, he wondered if he could scrape together enough for a gift.

But Y/N would sell whatever he brought her.

Bread then.

“Alfie! Alfie, open up.”

Alfie groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His small flat was bitterly cold despite his mum’s attempt to warm it before leaving for the day.

He rolled over and decided to ignore the knocking.

“C’mon Alfie, it’s me. Hurry up.”

Sigh.

“Yeah, alright. Just a fucking minute.” He lumbered across the room and yanked the door open. “The fuck you want, Ollie—“

The words died on his lips when he saw her.

Y/N was half-conscious in Ollie’s scrawny arms, her eyes glassy and skin flushed. Alfie rushed forward to take her from him, cradling her small body against his broad chest and wrapping her in his warmth.

“I had a delivery this morning and saw her down by Bonny Street. I didn’t know where else to take her.”

Alfie cursed under his breath. “She told me she had a place to stay for a while with some girls by the docks.”

“Maybe she found trouble?” Ollie offered.

“You think?” Alfie snapped.

He tried to keep his temper under control, but he could feel it bubbling under his skin. He was angry at Ollie, angry at himself, angry at the fucking world. She was alone and sick, and what the fuck could he do for her?

“She needs a doctor.”

“You’re just full of helpful advice this morning, ain’t ya?”

They both knew there was no money for doctors.

Alfie pulled back his blanket and gently laid her on his bed, brushing a dark curl from her forehead. Y/N slowly opened her eyes.

He tried not to lose himself.

“There you are, sweetheart. How ya feeling?”

Y/N smiled softly but didn’t respond. Her eyes closed again, and his heart dropped. She was fucking freezing.

Ollie left for work as Alfie gathered blankets, his coat, anything and everything he could find to warm her, which wasn’t much. He stoked the fire and held her hand, silently urging her to wake up.

But then the shaking started.

“Y/N,” Alfie murmured, running his strong hands over the threadbare blanket, cringing at her tremors. She was so thin and so, so cold.

He knew what he had to do.

Hoping his mum wouldn’t surprise them by stopping home between jobs, Alfie stripped off his shirt and climbed into bed. Y/N curled into him, burying her face in his chest, her breath coming in shallow pants against his bare skin.

Alfie froze, panicking because she felt so right, but everything about this was so wrong, and he wanted so badly for her to wake the fuck up.

Because what would he do if she didn’t?

He closed his eyes and gave in, threading his fingers through her hair, pressing her closer, breathing her in.

They laid that way for hours, his heart swelling as she alternated between cold sweats and feverish chills.

And he prayed.

Her fever broke just before midnight. A Christmas miracle, she would call it. Somehow Alfie managed to scrape together enough for a room where Y/N could stay while she recovered.

The next day, a job went south.

Alfie was given a choice: serve his sentence or serve the Crown.

He enlisted shortly after.

France, 1917

The line wrapped around the block, and it should have disgusted him. It would have once; men lined up like cattle to rut with a few tired whores.

But after three years on the front, what was a cheap fuck next to the blood and the mud?

Nothing shocked him anymore.

Still, Alfie thought about leaving. He only had three days leave for the holidays, and he was bone fucking tired. The thought of a warm, clean bed was almost as tempting as getting his cock sucked.

Almost.

With a sigh, he dragged his muddy boots down the lane until a buxom Frenchwoman, looking equally weary beneath her thick makeup, accepted his money and directed him down the hall.

“Twenty minutes, monsieur!” she called out after him.

Alfie nodded but didn’t look back, keeping his eyes down as he opened the creaky door, grimacing at the smell of sex and stale cigarettes. He prayed she was quiet; he was in no mood for mindless conversation.

“A-Alfie?”

His head snapped up, and he froze.

She was older, but her eyes were exactly the same.

He tried not to lose himself.

“Y/N?” he whispered as his mind rushed to catch up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

Alfie stepped forward, and his fingers reached for her, but it was like a dream, like reaching for the stars. His hand fell to his side when she didn’t answer.

“Y/N?” he repeated, his tone harsher than intended.

“What do you think?” she finally snapped, stepping forward and looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference. “Why do you think I’m here?” she asked, softer this time.

Alfie had the decency to blush, feeling like a fool as he put together the obvious. One of his greatest fears had come to life. He wanted to apologise but thought better of it.

“Take a seat, pet. Let’s talk. It’s been a long time.”

“Talk?” Y/N laughed, and his heart ached because she looked so much like the girl he once knew. “You only get twenty minutes, Alfie. The madame is a strict one. Best make the most of it.”

“Fuck off, Y/N—“

She cut him off by stepping forward, gently tracing the scar on his cheek, still fresh, the skin raw and angry.

“You’re exactly the same, Alfie,” Y/N whispered, pushing the straps of her flimsy gown down her shoulders, wiggling as it slid over her hips, leaving her bare.

Alfie swallowed thickly, unable to look away.

“Always trying to take care of me,” she continued, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw, her breath warm, familiar. “How about this time, you let me take care of you.”

He groaned as their lips met, still fighting with himself. After all these years, he still dreamt of her, still thought of her small body pressed tightly against his.

Not like this, though.

But nothing shocked him anymore.

Y/N pulled his shirt over his head, and when he felt her bare skin against his, he stopped thinking. Nothing mattered, nothing but this.

After ten years, they had twenty minutes.

His calloused hands—the dirt embedded in his knuckles, under his nails, no matter how hard he scrubbed—traced down her spine to cup her bottom, pulling her tighter as his lips traced hers. Y/N whined against him, a sound full of so much longing his heart nearly broke, but then she found him, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers, and he caught himself matching her, note for note.

It had been so long since he touched anyone without intending to take their life. Now he was here with Y/N, and she was stroking him, sliding his trousers down his narrow hips as she led him to the bed. Alfie fell on top of her as she wrapped her legs around him, open and inviting, giving all of herself and asking nothing in return.

He cried out when he entered her, burying his face in her shoulder, his eyes stinging because it had been so fucking long. Now he finally felt at home—and how the fuck was he supposed to go out and fight a war after this?

But Y/N seemed to understand.

She wrapped him in her arms, arched her hips, and whispered the words he needed to hear. And when it was all too much, when the pleasure overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t hold back his release any longer, she fucked him through it, cradling his body, accepting him, scars and all.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, the clock ticking.

“Y/N,” Alfie said when his heart finally slowed enough for him to speak. “After the war—“

“Alfie, no.”

He raised his head, feeling confused, and ignored her.

“Y/N, when we get—“

“Alfie, stop!”

She pressed a thin finger against his full lips.

“Don’t make me any promises,” she whispered. “Hope only makes it worse.”

Alfie opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Their twenty minutes was up.

Camden Town, 1921

Fuck, he hated the cold. It irritated his sciatica, and he had no choice but to lean heavily on his cane.

“Ollie!” He barked, feeling old beyond his years. “Make it fucking quick.”

Alfie checked his watch and grumbled under his breath about the time before slipping it back in his pocket. He was eager to return to the bakery—a shipment was going out—but Ollie insisted they drop off their annual donation in person.

On account of Hanukkah and all...

But Alfie wasn’t in the festive spirit.

What the fuck was this idiot doing?

It was late. The shipment was delayed, and Alfie was in a foul fucking mood. He wanted nothing more than to hurry home to his big empty bed and sleep off the day.

But someone was dancing in the streets, holding up traffic.

He pressed loudly on the horn and cursed.

“Ollie!” Alfie roared.

His assistant popped his head around the corner, somewhat hesitantly, knowing his friend-turned-boss and recognising his bad temper.

“Yes, Alfie?”

“Have you seen my fucking watch?”

Ollie raised a brow in confusion. “Your watch?”

Alfie exploded. “Yes, Ollie. My fucking watch. It tells the time.” He patted his pockets helplessly. “It’s always fucking here, and now it’s not.”

Ollie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a melodic voice floated in from the hall.

“It was a bit risky. You are a big fucker.”

Alfie’s jaw dropped as she walked through the door, Ollie taking one look between them and making a quick exit.

“But you know what they say,” Y/N continued, slowly walking around the desk and smiling. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.”

She had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

The end ❄️