#dusty rose nail polish

[virgochalet]

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[booksbeyondimagining]

My phone does not do this nail polish justice, but I was way too lazy to pull out my DSLR for this.

My new obsession with nail polish means I want to show it off, and what better way than to pair it with covers that match?

This is Velvet Rose by Mooncat paired with Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce. The Velvet Rose is a magentic and is more of a rose gold pink, leaning a little into the dusty rose side of things. A seriously gorgeous color. Look at pictures of it on Mooncat's website cause my phone just wanted to pick up the gold tints instead.

[buckysgrace]

22. Here Comes the Sun

Part twenty two to Every Little Thing!

CW: Traumatic labor experience!!

“What are you doing?” Gator questioned as he walked into the house, feeling his irritation slipping away. He’d been removed from the task force, someone claiming that he was steering them away from the ranch. It was bullshit. He stopped, knocking his boots against the side of the house so he could brush off the small dust of April snow that had since fallen. 

Daphne was squatted down on an exercise ball, rotating her hips slowly as she wrinkled her features up in dismay. He watched in amusement as he shut the door behind him, then bent down to pet Birdie who had greeted him eagerly at the door. 

“I need these babies to come out,” Daphne grunted as she continued to swivel her hips, “I am not having them rip my guts out.” She held one finger up, looking deeply concentrated as she continued to move around. 

He sighed softly, knowing it had been her newest obsession since she’d realized there would be a chance she could have a C-section. He didn’t know how she’d managed to go so far without panicking over it. 

“That’s not how it works,” He reassured her gently as he bent over to kiss the top of her head, “Everything is going to be fine. No matter what happens.” He reassured her, knowing that she would make it out okay. She had good days, but this day seemed to be a little worse as she nodded her head slowly.

“Two more weeks,” She breathed out, her cheeks flushed as she gripped his outstretched hand to slowly pull herself up, “That’s not too bad.” 

“They’ll be here before we know it,” He told her softly, “And they’re both at a healthy weight already.” He told her quickly. Their little girl was slightly underweight, but their son was more than the average weight.

“They’re no longer little berries.” She pointed out, sending him a smile as she leaned up to peck his lips. He paused for a second before he dipped back down for another kiss, making her giggle in response. 

“Not even close,” He smiled as he helped her back onto the couch, “They’ll be driving before we know it.” He pointed out, sure that the time must fly. She shook her head, looking like she didn’t want to hear that. 

“Don’t say that,” She whined, “I’m ready for them to be here. I just get so worked up sometimes.” She mumbled as she rubbed her fingertips across her pregnancy belly. He sat next to her, bringing his slightly cool fingertips over her stomach as well. 

“I know,” He mumbled as he kissed her cheek, “It’s okay. You have bad nerves, it happens to the best of us.” He told her softly before he moved across her lap to pull the foot rest up. She turned towards him curiously. 

“What are you doing?” She asked him curiously, trying to wiggle up to look at him. He nudged her back down before he sat on the floor, wanting to spoil her just a bit. He felt guilty sometimes, feeling like she thought that she was locked in their house. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. 

“Just sit back and relax,” He smiled as he dug through her bag of nail polish again, “What color do you want?” He asked as he held up a few different shades. He could tell that she used the dusty rose color more than the rest, so he tried to avoid that one. 

“Hm,” She paused as she tried to look down at her toes, “Maybe the yellow. Since spring will be here soon.” She said hopefully, smiling as she began to massage her hands over her bump again. He nodded his head, thinking that was a good answer as he slowly began to paint her nails. 

“What are you watching?” He asked curiously, confused as to what all of the yelling on the TV was about. She shifted a little bit, wiggling her toes before he stopped her. 

“Floribama Shore,” She replied sheepishly, “I’ve had a thing for reality TV recently.” She wrinkled up her nose, giggling softly as his features wrinkled up at her odd choice of entertainment. He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he continued his work.

When one toe was finished drying he’d bring it up to his lips, giving her skin a soft kiss just to hear the sweet sound of her laughter coming from her lips. He smiled as he screwed the cap back onto the nail polish bottle, hoping that he might help her feel a little better. 

That night he rested on her lap on the couch, the same way he had for the past few months since she hadn’t been able to get comfortable lying on her back. It really didn’t bother him much. Their couch was nice and she was soft.

He kept swatting at the side of his face, feeling a little paw digging into his cheek. He grumbled, continually trying to brush Birdie away until he felt the threat of claws beginning to dig into his skin. He rolled over in frustration, snapping his eyes open as he stared down at the cat's wide eyes. It was then that he heard Daphne’s heavy breathing. 

“You alright?” He asked groggily as he woke up as she continued to shift in her spot. He sat up a bit, reaching for his phone to check the time. It was only a little bit past midnight. He could still pass out and sleep a few more hours before he had to go into work. 

“Yeah,” She replied, then groaned as she winced, “No. It hurts a lot.” She exhaled harshly, shutting her eyes tightly as she continued to rub at her back. He sat up quickly, unsure of where to touch her. 

“What does?” He asked worriedly, moving his fingertips into her back to try and ease the pain for her. She sniffled harshly, shaking her head as she continued to shift in her spot. 

“My back, down my legs and my abdomen,” She inhaled deeply after she spoke, “I’m sure it’s fine.” She breathed out roughly, but he could tell by her tone that she was close to tears. He quickly stood, nearly tripping over Birdie on his way to turn on the lights.

She moved the footrest down, sitting on the edge of the couch as she rubbed at her lower back. She was breathing deeply, her face contorted in pain as a tear slipped down her cheek. He felt his heart stall in his chest for just a second before he rushed forward to sit next to her.

“Are these contractions?” He asked gently, trying to remember what the rule was but all he could think of was 911. This wasn’t quite an emergency yet. He wiped the tears from her cheeks, his heart hammering roughly in his chest. 

“I don’t know,” She breathed out rapidly as he wiped another tear from the corner of her eye, “It’s just really intense.” She whimpered this time, her breathing becoming louder and more intense. He shook his head, realizing she was beginning to panic. 

“Just breathe deeply,” He instructed, bringing her attention back to his face as he inhaled deeply with her. She followed his movements, trembling underneath his touch as she slowly exhaled with him. He repeated the movements with her a few more times until she was breathing calmly on her own, “Let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m not ready,” She spit out, shaking her head as she began to cry harder, “It’s not time yet.” She hiccuped as she cried, beginning to breathe harder again as she gently tapped her cheek. He brought her attention back towards him, and he practiced the same deep breaths with her once again. 

“Maybe they’re not ready either,” He added gently, trying to keep her calm so she wouldn’t end up having an anxiety attack, “We should at least get the pain checked out, right?” He nodded his head with her, watching the way she blinked rapidly. 

“Yeah,” She sniffled as she watched him, her eyes even brighter from the tears in her eyes, “I’m in my pajamas.” She pointed out, looking a little out of it as she stared down at her matching Winnie the Pooh set. He smiled softly, motioning towards his fluffy pajama bottoms he had on.

“So am I,” He laughed softly, doing his best to keep from showing his worry, “Let me go get you some socks. Do you want fuzzy or regular?” He asked as he rubbed her knees, trying to keep her focused on anything but the pain. Birdie hopped up on the arm rest, meowing loudly as he pressed his cheek up against her arm. 

“Just regular is fine,” She mumbled softly as she wiped at her cheeks, “It hurts again.” She told him weakly, looking fearful as he squeezed at her skin again. He wished he could do something to take the pain away from her. 

“Just keep breathing like we were doing, alright?” He asked her, almost hating to leave her alone, “I’ll be right back.” He mumbled as he leaned over to messily kiss the top of her head. He breathed in deeply, letting himself be vulnerable for just a moment before he turned away.

He raced up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and racing down the hall to their room. He pulled the drawer open quickly, grabbing a pair of socks that were decorated with little butterflies. He pushed the closet door open next, reaching inside to grab the baby stuff they’d already packed for. He took it, just to be safe. 

His hand was shaking as he rushed back down the stairs, but he made himself stop so she couldn’t sense his worry. He gave her a reassured smile, kissing both of her knees before he slipped her socks on over her feet. He moved to her shoes next, sliding on a pair of Crocs so she’d be more comfortable.

“I look silly.” She pointed out, sniffling as a stiff grin formed on her lips. He noticed the way she was trying to keep herself composed. He kissed the top of her head again. 

“Who cares,” He responded, helping her sit forward so he could assist her with her heavy coat. He brushed her hair from her face again, trying to be a little reassuring as he took her hands to help her stand, “I do too.” 

The drive there wasn’t long, granted that Gator went well over the speed limit. He kept one hand attached to Daphne’s, squeezing occasionally to remind her that this would be alright. He hoped that it would. 

She was rushed back right away and it didn’t take long to confirm that she was contracting, that she was dilated and the twins would be arriving whether they were ready or not. He was on edge, desperately wishing that he had remembered his vape so he could sneak into the bathroom for a hit. 

Once she got her epidural, things calmed down. She was far enough along to get the shot, but things seemed to slow down after that. She still faced contractions, but it didn’t seem as serious as before.  

“What’s going on?” He snuck out with the nurse, feeling like something was wrong as the hours continued to tick by. He had already texted both of their relatives to update them, but that had been a long time ago. He was tired, but he could tell that Daphne was even more exhausted. He felt like something needed to be done. 

“She just might be stalling,” The nurse started to speak, glancing over at where Daphne was wiggling her toes on the bed, “We’ll keep an eye on that as well.” She nodded her head, but Gator lingered towards the last part of her sentence. 

“What else is wrong?” He asked quickly, feeling a little worried at the aspect. He felt the air in his lungs growing cold, fearing that something was wrong with the three of them. 

“One baby hasn’t turned,” The nurse said softly, “Nothing to be concerned with yet. We’re keeping a good eye on her and them, we’ll check back soon.” She replied with a smile before she was off, leaving Gator to dig his feet into the floor before he made his way back to Daphne. 

“What did they say?” She asked curiously, looking cute in her little hospital gown. He leaned over the bed to get closer to her, wishing that he could take some of the pain from her. 

“Nothin’,” He mumbled as he brushed his finger across her bangs, “They just talked about how pretty you were.” He mumbled as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. She was slightly sweaty, her cheeks flushed from how hot she was. 

“Stop it.” She groaned as she tried to cover her face with her hands. He put them down gently, not wanting her to shy away from him. 

“I’m being serious,” He grinned as he traced his finger down to her nose, squishing it softly, “They said you’re gonna be the prettiest mama they ever seen.” He told her seriously, suddenly aware of just how much he loved her. 

It wasn’t much longer when they came back, giving them the facts this time. She wasn’t dilating like she should be and with the risk of losing her and the babies, they wanted to move into a c-section. Daphne freaked out a little at that, but once she was prepped and on the table she was fine.

“How do you feel?” He mumbled as he leaned over her and gently dragged his thumb against her skin. He dragged it across her flesh, admiring how soft she felt against him. 

“Oh I feel fine,” She responded cheerily, “I’m wiggling my toes. Well I think. I can’t feel my toes. But I think I’m wiggling my toes.” She furrowed her eyebrows together, glancing down until she remembered that there was a sheet blocking their view. 

“Yeah?” He smiled softly, glad that she was more carefree than anything, “Those drugs must be nice, huh?” He teased her as he traced his thumb across her bottom lip. He thought of the times they’d smoked pot together, how she always got giggly and talkative. 

“Yeah,” She giggled as she turned towards him, her eyes slightly hazy, “I don’t feel nothing. Are my guts on the table?” She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion as if he would peak around the sheet to see what they were doing. 

“Nope,” He told her, his lips still pursed into a smile, “I just peeked. No guts are exposed.” He smiled as he leaned forward to kiss her chin. He rubbed his thumb across her hand, glad that she was finally relaxed. 

“Did you know they just go right back into place?” She asked him, “Isn’t that weird?” She shook  her head like she couldn’t believe it. He paused, wishing that she hadn’t shared that with him. 

“It is,” He agreed with her, “You’re doing so great.” He praised her as he brought their connected hands up to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles softly, watching the way her eyes sparkled. 

“I really thought you’d pass out.” She said as she cracked a smile, her features relaxed and steady as she traced her eyes over his features. 

“I helped a time or two when the calves were born,” He laughed, “And the horses.” He added a second later, recalling when his own horse had been born.

“Are you comparing me to livestock?” She grinned as she looked at him, her eyes twinkling underneath the hospital lights. He leaned forward, brushing his nose against hers for a second. 

“You will be producing milk,” He said with a laugh, “I’d say it’s pretty similar.” He tilted his head as he looked down at her, watching the way her smile stayed plastered to her lips. He admired her features, wishing he had drawn more pictures of her. He wasn’t sure if she’d even seen his sketches of her. 

“I had a dream about you last night.” She said softly, her smile dropping just a little bit as she turned towards him seriously. He tilted his head. 

“What?” 

“A dream,” She said again, “You were walking. Just in the dark. You couldn’t see me.” She said seriously as she furrowed her eyebrows together, looking like he should be concerned with it. He supposed that was better than her dreaming about him cheating on her. 

“That sounds a bit scary,” He teased as he squeezed their hands together, “There weren’t a lot of spiders, were there?” He asked as he traced her cheek again. She turned towards him fiercely. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of them.” She said a second later, blinking slowly as she watched him. He tapped her cheek, frowning at her words. 

“I’m going to take care of everyone,” He said sternly, “You included.” He mumbled as he leaned forward to peck her lips. She inhaled sharply, leaning against him as he held her closer. He wasn’t losing her. 

The sound of crying tore them apart, making his heart seize in a way he didn’t know was possible. He blinked hard, feeling his eyes growing wet as they waited in anticipation. 

“A boy,” The nurse introduced him to Gator first. His mouth was wide as he cried, his little fists jumbled up as she passed him along to Gator, “Congrats.” Gator felt an odd sound fall from his lips, partially a laugh and partially a sob as he looked down at the little boy. 

“Look,” He turned his son down towards Daphne, his throat suddenly feeling raw and scratchy as he traced over his features, “Our boy.” He grinned proudly as he looked at her

“Oh,” She whispered softly, “He has strong lungs. That’s good.” She moved her fingers slowly through their son’s hair, smiling as he continued to cry in Gator’s arms. He slowly moved him into her arms, allowing her to cradle him as another cry filled the room. 

“And a girl,” The nurse smiled, “Careful, she’s a bit smaller.” He was already blinking tears away, but the sight of his baby girl set him over the edge. His sob took him by surprise, tears trickling from his eyes as he held the tiny infant in his arms. 

“You’re crying,” Daphne said at last, her eyes lightly glazed over, “I told you, you’d cry.” She smiled lightly, looking amused as her own tears shone brightly in her eyes. He nodded his head quickly, trying to keep it together. 

“You did,” He agreed as he rapidly tried to blink the tears from his eyes, “You were right.” He nodded as he looked down at his daughter, admiring her soft cheeks and tiny nose. Her legs were pulled up towards her chest as she sobbed. 

He turned towards Daphne, about to mention how loud they were when he noticed something changed in her demeanor. The nurses were quick, snatching away the babies and ushering Gator out as an alarm ranged overhead. It happened quickly, fast enough that he was unable to fully process what had just happened. 

“What’s going on?” He spit out harshly, his chest aching as he stared at the way more people rushed inside the room. He watched the way the nurse in front of him was speaking, but nothing made sense. It was like he couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart hammering inside of his chest. It was too loud. 

“Sir?” The nurse shook her head, looking at him unsure as he kept feeling his eyes darting around. He couldn’t focus suddenly, his chest clenching into a tight ball as he blinked his eyes slowly. 

“Mr. Tillman,” The nurse touched his shoulder again, “Did you have names figured out for the twins.” He looked up at her, still trying to process the fact that Daphne was hemorrhaging. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he was afraid over what the answer would be. She would be fine. She had to be fine. 

“Uh,” He stared at her as the sinking feeling grew, “I want to wait for Daphne. She was supposed to pick out our son's name.” He blinked slowly, shaking his head as he stared ahead. He realized he was sitting then. He wondered how long he’d been sitting. He didn’t remember sitting down. 

“Alright,” She nodded her head softly, “Do you need anything?” She asked him, looking worried as he felt his mouth growing dry. He was panicked, fearful as he sat there. He needed to tell her parents. 

“No,” He breathed out roughly, “Not right now.” He shook his head, trying to keep his emotions from growing jumbled. She paused as she bent down, trying to face him better. 

“Do you want to see them?” She asked him sweetly, giving him a small smile as he tried to focus on what she was saying. He paused, feeling like it was wrong. She should see them first. 

“I should wait for her.” He said at last, nodding his head as he agreed with his own thoughts. She would see them again. She’d be okay. 

“They’re about to get their first baths,” She said softly, “I’m sure they’d like it if their daddy was there.” She replied, making him think about it for a moment. He nodded his head, gulping as he realized she was probably right. It wouldn’t do any good to stress out about it right now. 

He followed her down the hall, his legs feeling like they were weighed down by cement as he walked. He kept glancing around, trying to gain a sense of where Daphne was at. About how she was doing. 

“Should I record for her?” He asked the other nurse, still feeling like his mind was miles away. He watched as the nurse gently picked up his son, holding him in a little bundle of blankets. He was no longer crying and Gator realized just how long he was for the first time. 

“You can,” She reassured him as his son continued to squirm in her arms, “I think she’d like that.” She gave him a smile, making him nod his head as he pulled out his phone. He felt a smile twitch on his lips, watching the way his little boy shuddered as the nurse gently scrubbed at his hair. 

“He has a lot of hair.” He pointed out a second later, smiling as he noticed the thick locks. His hair was slightly lighter, nearly an auburn shade. It was hard to tell right away, but he had a feeling that his son might look like him. 

“He really does,” She smiled, “And a strong grip. That’s good.” She responded, then took Gator through the steps of fastening his diaper and swaddling him back up. He brushed his fingertips across the infant's cheek, hoping that Daphne would be the one to give the next bath. 

“She’s loud.” He observed as the nurse lifted his daughter up next. She was still as tiny and still howled as she cried. It made his heart ache, wondering if she was crying for Daphne. She hadn’t got to meet her. 

Her hair was darker but just as thick as the nurse began to scrub at her hair this time. Gator recorded her too, smiling at the way she kept bringing her legs up to her chest. She definitely hadn’t been ready to leave her mama just yet. 

“She has very strong lungs,” The nurse laughed as she continued to gently wash his daughter’s thick locks, “That’s good too.” She pointed out, making Gator nod in agreement. They were okay, but it was hard for him to solely focus on that at the moment. He loved his kids, but he had spent his whole life loving Daphne. 

“Have you heard about my wife?” He asked her a second later, his throat tightening in fear as he assumed the worst. She turned towards him, giving him a sincere look. 

“I have not,” The nurse apologized softly, “I’m sure they’ll update you as soon as we hear anything.” She told him what he already knew, leaving him without any reassurances. He did his best to keep from breaking down, nodding as she began to fasten his daughter’s diaper this time. 

“Okay.” 

“Do you want to do some skin to skin?” She asked him suddenly, pausing her movements before she stuck the infant's fist through the onesie sleeve. He turned towards her in confusion. 

“What’s that?” He asked softly, feeling like that word was something new to him. He glanced back down at his little girl, watching the way she squirmed and wiggled her little toes about. He thought of Daphne again, as a sorrow settled over his chest. 

“It’s to help bond with the babies,” She replied with a soft smile, “Very beneficial.” That was all she needed to say for him to make up his mind, hoping that it might help keep him distracted for at least a little bit.

He felt odd sitting there with his shirt off and not having Daphne around, but it felt good to feel the twins against his chest. His daughter wiggled and squirmed, blinking her eyes but keeping silent as he held onto her. His son slumbered peacefully, curling up without much of a second thought. He liked their soft baby smells and how they already seemed to have different personalities from one another. 

“She’s all better,” A nurse came in a few minutes later, making him breath out shakily in relief, “She’s up and waiting for you.” He was quick to get up, passing the twins off with a silent apology as he dressed himself. He’d have a lot of time to be with them; he needed to be with Daphne right now. 

Daphne was back in the regular room, her eyes shut and a tired look on her face when he entered. He exhaled in relief as she fluttered her eyes open, her lips curling into a soft smile as he approached her. 

“Hey,” He cooed as he pushed her sweaty bangs off of her forehead, “Are you okay?” He questioned as he began to kiss her forehead, cupping her face oh so gently. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had desperately missed the feeling and smell of her. She was as soft as always. 

“Thirsty,” She mumbled, her voice raspy as she blinked her hazy eyes, “Is there any water?” She whispered softly, her voice a little raspy as she blinked tiredly again. He nodded as he glanced towards her table, pulling the cup that had been left there. 

“Just take it easy,” He reassured her as he held the cup up to her lips, “Don’t drink too fast.” He told her gently, admiring her features as if he might somehow forget them. That had been too close for his comfort. 

“Did you see them?” She asked softly, her eyes rolling over his features in concern as he continued to brush his fingers across her face. He didn’t want to let her go. 

“Yeah,” He grinned as he leaned forward to kiss her temple, “You did an amazing job, mama.” He mumbled against her skin, inhaling softly as he held onto her. She still seemed a bit out of it, like she didn’t fully realize what had happened. 

“I want to see them.” She replied as she held onto him, blinking slowly as she wrinkled her dark eyebrows together. He nodded his head, moving his lips to her knuckles next. He was worried, unable to ignore the pain that had filled his chest. 

“They’re bringing them,” He reassured her, “Do you feel okay?” He asked as he rubbed his cheek against her hands gently. She smiled for a moment, brushing her fingertips across his skin as he continued his motions. 

“My upper back and shoulder really hurts,” She replied softly, “Must be this bed.” She replied, shifting a little bit as one of the nurses walked in with a clipboard. He watched Daphne, noticing a dark color on her chest as she moved. 

“Hey,” He paused as he pressed his finger against the top of her gown, bringing it down low enough to expose the middle of her chest, “What’s this?” He asked, a little horrified as he looked at the nasty bruise. She blinked, looking down at her chest in confusion. 

“Oh it was in her report,” The nurse smiled painfully as she looked at it, “They did a sternum rub to bring her back. It’s painful, but it kept them from accidentally starting compressions when she didn’t need it.” She nodded her head and Gator felt his heart sink a little deeper into his stomach as he realized just how serious it had been. 

“Oh,” Daphne drew out dramatically, “That’s why my chest hurts.” She said as she looked down at her skin again. He glanced back towards the nurse. 

“Nothing’s broken?” He asked, hoping that she didn’t have to deal with any broken ribs on top of recovering from her surgery. Broken ribs weren’t too painful, but they were irritating. 

“Oh no,” The nurse shook her head, “You’re just really sensitive there. She probably didn’t respond at first, so they dug in just a little deeper.” She looked over Daphne’s chest for a moment, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 

“That makes sense,” He nodded his head as he sat back in his seat, “I’m glad you came to.” He smiled as he squeezed at Daphne’s hand. She nodded her head, still looking a little dazed like she hadn’t fully processed everything yet. 

The nurses dropped off the little bassinets a few minutes later, but Gator found it hard to pay attention to them. He was too preoccupied watching Daphne, fearing that he might lose her in a blink of an eye. 

“Oh wow,” She laughed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she held both of them in her arms, “They’re so small.” She sniffled as she looked back and forth between the two of them. They were slumbering, sleeping peacefully as they snuggled deeper into her chest. 

“He was seven pounds two ounces,” He explained softly as he drifted his fingertips through their son's hair gently, “And she was five pounds eight ounces.” He explained, noticing the way she was slowly coming more to it. 

“Wow,” She breathed out softly as she continued to choke on her tears, “They’re so cute.” She sniffled as she shook her head, smiling sweetly at the both of them. 

“They wanted to know names,” He mumbled as he kissed the top of her head, “I think I decided on Piper.” He replied softly, a little nervous about what she thought about the name. He wanted to make her happy. 

“That’s so pretty,” She sobbed as she leaned against him, her shoulders shaking gently, “You told me you liked that name from before.” She sniffled again as he rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. 

“I did,” He laughed as he let her rest her head against his chest, “What did you decide on?” He mumbled as he pushed his fingers through her hair. She sighed softly, sniffling as she looked down at their little boy. 

“Knox Andrew,” She said as she sniffled, “I really like that name.” She replied as she turned towards him, her blue eyes bright as she stared up at him. He nodded his head, reassuring her that he enjoyed the name. 

“It’s a nice name,” He mumbled as he gently wiped her tears away, “You did a good job.” He told her again, cupping her face as he pressed his lips against hers gently. She kissed him sweetly, her lips smooth and wet as he clung to her. 

“I can’t believe this,” She continued to cry as she pulled away, “We made babies. I think they look like you.” She mused dreamily as she looked at them again. She winced a little bit as she adjusted them, making Piper stir a little in her arms. 

“Maybe he does,” He said softly, thinking of the pictures they’d poured over the past few days, “But she’s gonna look like you.” He pointed out, already thinking that there were too many similarities for her features to change. 

“They have your hair,” She mused, shifting a bit so he could take Knox from her arms. She shifted, like her shoulder was really bothering her, “He’s a little heavier.” She explained softly, looking like she felt bad.

“S’alright,” He reassured her, “You’ll have plenty of time to hold them.” He told her quickly, knowing that she didn’t have to hold both of them at the same time. 

She struggled with her first attempt with nursing. Piper refused to latch, squirming and wiggling about until she was red in the face. Knox was easier, latching right away and making little sounds that reminded Gator of the piglets they’d once had. 

“Here’s their baths,” He mumbled as he scooted closer to her, “They did really well.” He told her, holding onto the phone in one hand and Piper in the other. She was warm and soft and he found himself pausing every so often to move down and kiss her forehead again. 

“Can you believe there’s two of them?” She said in awe as she rubbed at Knox’s cheek again, “Two perfect little babies.” She mumbled, smiling sweetly as she traced over his features. He watched her, knowing she already had this down perfectly. 

Her family came first. Ruby was attached to her side, seemingly more interested in what was happening with Daphne than the twins. He didn’t mind. He was actually glad that someone else was taking special interest in what she was doing. 

“I think I have your baby blanket,” Ruby said suddenly. She stood behind Daphne, having a pile of pillows wrapped around her as she rubbed at Daphne’s shoulders, “I’ll have to get that out too.” She mumbled to herself, moving her eyes up towards the ceiling like she had a mental list. 

“Do I still get the baby blankets you knitted?” Daphne tilted her head back, her eyebrows knitting together in concern as she looked at Ruby worriedly. Gator grinned as he rubbed his arm, nodding his head along to whatever Bruce was talking about. 

“Yes,” Ruby laughed softly, “I just thought you’d like to keep it now.” She smiled as she kissed the top of her head before she walked away towards the babies. Gator took it as his opportunity to move back to Daphne. 

“How do you feel?” He asked her, whispering softly as he rubbed at her ankle. She sent him a tired grin, dragging her eyes away from where Noelle and August were trading the twins back and forth. He thought it was odd that August could be here for their kids but not for his own. 

“A little better,” She mumbled, “I think I'm pumped full of drugs, honestly.” She laughed, looking a little amused as he linked their fingers together. He was just glad she wasn’t in any type of pain at the moment. 

“You went through a lot,” He reassured her, hoping that she wouldn’t get upset again, “You deserve some good drugs.” He teased her, being full serious as he traced his finger across her smooth skin. 

“Ha,” She smiled as she looked down towards him, “You’re so funny.” She nudged him softly, but had the decency to still look amused at his words. He traced his eyes over her dark eyebrows, her bright eyes and slightly pink cheeks. He traced her freckles and moles, then her plump lips. She was stunning, like an angel. 

“Hey,” He whispered as he leaned forward, “I love you. You know that, right?” He questioned her softly, sitting close enough so she was the only one that could hear him. She smiled as she drew her eyes up towards his, then squeezed his face softly.

“I love you too.” She breathed out softly, her eyes warming the inside of his chest. 

//////////////////////////////////////

The next two days were a bit better, but he could tell Daphne was a lot more sore than she was the previous night. He could tell she was hurting, even though she kept trying to brush it off. 

“Your dad never came,” She observed gently as she turned towards him, watching the way he cradled Piper to his bare chest, “Did you tell him?” She looked at him curiously, making him feel a little disappointed as he was reminded about Roy’s words. 

“He said they’d come by when we’re home,” He responded as he glanced away, “He’s been busy with something.” He shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed his fingers down Piper’s back, smiling at the way she shivered. 

“Secretive,” She mumbled, smiling as she ran her fingers through Knox’s hair in fascination, “I can’t believe they’re actually here.” She said again, still sounding as fascinated as she looked down at them again. 

“I can’t either,” He told her truthfully. He didn’t say it outloud, but he was really enjoying doing the skin on skin time with the twins, “You did such a great job.” He praised her again, hoping that she understood just how proud of her she was. She flushed a little, sending him a shy smile as she rocked Knox towards her chest. 

Gator was less than happy by the time the nurse returned back. The twins were in the clear to leave, perfectly healthy and ready to go home. Daphne wasn’t. They wanted to keep her another night. On her own. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea. 

“What do you mean she can’t go back yet?” He asked, doing his best to keep his frustration at bay as he looked back towards Daphne. She was holding onto Piper this time, rocking her as she gave her a bottle. 

“It’s just a routine thing. Her experience was a bit more traumatic so we just want an extra day to watch her.” The nurse explained and it really did make sense, but Gator didn’t feel like it was right to leave Daphne behind. 

“You can go home,” Daphne reassured him, “I’m going to be fine. My mom will be here.” She said with a soft nod, making him sigh as he quickly shook his head. 

“I don’t know.” He said at last, fearing what might happen if he left. He was terrified he’d wake up to a phone call. That if he left, he’d be leaving her behind forever. 

“You need to rest too,” She pointed out, “You’ll do that a lot better in a comfortable bed. And the twins should see their home.” She smiled as she rubbed her fingers through Piper’s hair, smiling sweetly as she bent over to kiss at her head. 

“Are you sure?” He asked her, really hating the thought of leaving her all alone. He pushed his hair back, watching the way she quickly nodded her head. 

“Positive,” She grinned at him, “All I do is sleep anyways. I’m still so sore.” She groaned as she rolled her shoulder around again, wincing a bit as Piper grunted in protest. 

“What if something happens and I’m not here?” He asked her seriously, his stomach twisting and turning at the thought. He didn’t want to lose her. He feared it more than anything. 

“What if something happens and you are here?” She shot back, smiling at the question, “Sometimes things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it. Even if you were here, it doesn’t mean you’d be able to save me.” She pointed out, making his chest a bit more hollow as he thought about it. 

“I don’t like that scenario.” He told her seriously, sighing as he leaned forward to brush his nose against hers. She inhaled softly, smiling up towards him as she pulled away. 

“Go home,” She told him, laughing as she kissed his cheek, “Get some good rest. Take a shower. I’ll be alright.” She promised him. 

[butt3rflygrav3yard]

>What The Creepypasta/Marble Hornet Characters Smell like<

(HEADCANNON)

Eyeless Jack:

-Lemon cleaning supplies

-Medical gloves

-Mint

-Musky cologne

-Laundry detergent

Slenderman:

-Cigars

-Old, dusty bookcases

-Expensive Cologne

-Campfire/leaves burning

Sally Williams:

-Fabric softener

-Mud

-Crayons

-Porcelain dolls

-Tea

-Green apple shampoo/detangler

Jeff The Killer:

-Axe body spray

-Blood

-Alcohol

-Musk

BEN Drowned:

-Mountain dew

-Body odor

-Axe body spray

-Doritos

Jane The Killer:

-Expensive rose scented perfume

-The woods

-Synthetic hair/wig

-Nail polish remover

Laughing Jack:

-Popcorn

-Cotton candy

-Summer nights

-Musk

-Halloween Stores

Clockwork/Natalie:

-Cinnamon gum

-Vanilla

-Incense

-Blood

-Dust

Ticci Toby:

-Maple syrup

-Bacon

-Blankets

-Rusted metal

-Burning wolf

-Light cologne

Masky/Tim:

-Cigarettes

-Leather

-Whiskey

-Old spice products

-Autumn leaves

Hoodie/Brian:

-Smoke

-Glue

-Pinecones

-Deodorant

-Some kind of home-cooked meal

Nina The Killer:

-Wolfthorn deodorant

-Skittles

-Monster

-Mildew

-Cheap perfume

If I missed any characters you’d like to see in a future post, please let me know!:) and remember, these are all solely based on my own opinion and hyperfixation lol.

!!! I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS!!!

[hotmonkeelove]

Hi! I have a question, what kind of makeup do you think anko will use? For me, a smooth makeup with lavender tones. Like maybelline or revlon ones

This question is a little tricky for me, as I rarely buy make-up anymore, apart from nail polish. I spend most of my time at home, so I don't bother putting any on, unless I'm taking pictures. Also, I tend to keep any cosmetic item till it's out or unusable (I still have a few things from over twenty years ago). So I'm not the most up-to-date on brands. However, my mom sends me make-up from time to time, so I have developed a fondness for Urban Decay. I can kind of see Anko wearing some of it, at least if she were going out for the evening. Like if she were attended a party or festival, or if the jounin were all going out to sing karaoke or something. (Now there's a show I want to see! That'd be hilarious!)

I get the feeling Anko is a little impulsive when picking out make-up. She'd buy something just because she thought it was a cool colour. She wouldn't want to spend too much money, either, so she prefers cheaper brands. (She's got to save her cash for what's really important: dango.) While she doesn't seem to wear much compared to Kurenai or even Tsunade, she does appear to wear eyeliner. Though in Boruto, she definitely wears more, including that dusty rose lipstick.

[deepautumncolors]

💅🏻 ~Manicure Monday~ 💅🏻

Hi everyone! After doing a skittle manicure in my last post, I decided to do something simple and easy this time. The name of this color is English Rose by Rimmel Lasting Finish Pro. I haven’t worn it in several years and I haven’t reviewed it yet, so here we go!

Sunlight:

Shade:

This is a crème polish with a glossy finish. It’s a dusty pink with warm undertones that lean towards red. I like to wear this color in the springtime, but it could also be worn as a transition shade at the end of summer and beginning of fall. It’s nice, but I’m not head-over-heels in love with it. To be honest, it reminds me of a color my grandma used to wear – not that there’s anything wrong with that!

The wide brush and incredible self-leveling formula result in a flawless application. This polish also has great durability. It will last about five days without chipping, but not ten like it says on the bottle. Sometimes if I’m moving too fast and I accidentally hit my hand or finger on something, I’m afraid to look and see the damage to my nails, but there usually isn’t any. The first coat was nearly opaque with no streaks or brushstrokes, but I still added a second layer with no base or topcoat. If you’ve read my prior reviews, you already know that this line was discontinued about ten years ago. This was one of the colors I bought at a drugstore after I heard they wouldn’t be making it anymore. If you like it and want to wear something close, Baguette Me Not from OPI’s France Collection of Fall/Winter 2008 may be similar.

I have a different pink from this collection that I have never worn before, so I will review it next time!

[kaciidubs]

So you remember how you said you wanted more hyunjin hand content… he heard you I think…

LOOK AT HIS HAND WITH THE RINGS AND THE BLACK NAIL POLISH I AM (S)CREAMING

Hyunjin answering my prayers faster than god-

I. Cant. Even. BREATHE. THE POSE, THE HEAD TILT WITH HIS FUCKING LEG UP?!?! THOSE FUCKING DUSTY ROSE LIPS AND HIS FINGERS?! THE. RINGS. OH BLESSED BE THIS DAY

[sabotagejcink]

MEMBER GROUPS 💫

hi, everyone! we have a little preview for you all today before we drop our discord buzz tomorrow! here are our regular member groups!

moody - pessimistic - wistful - empathetic - mysterious up until 4 am // iced coffee and last nights eyeliner // memories that feel like weapons // dancing with ghosts in the living room // loud music // ripped jeans and black fishnets // stained glass windows // deep sighs // black nail polish // thunder storms in winter // a turbulent ocean // neon lights // vinyl records

outgoing - partier - adventurous - reckless - impulsive the feeling of wind as your skydive // walking on the edge of a cliff // the sound of the bass at a rave // mid-morning hangovers // a last minute road trip // cliff diving into the ocean // an adrenaline rush // broken bones from stupid decisions // a jump without a fear of falling // a getaway car // endless youth // the sugar high

romantic - creative - naive - gentle - emotional a hopeless romantic // overdramatic and true // cotton candy at the fair // a dazzling haze // paint stained overalls // a tear glistening on a cheek // the smell of roses // soft pink cardigans // a midnight walk // the gentle touch of a feather // pastel painted walls // the feeling of a coastal wind // christmas lights up year round

intelligent - kind - patient - balanced - intuitive mom friend // early morning coffee // plant mom // the smell of new books // oversized sweaters // calming voice // light rain the evening // a cat purring in your lap because it loves you // old dusty libraries // messy bun // effortlessly helpful // gentle smile // a comforting warmth // the smell of earl gray tea // wool knit blankets // inner peace

determined - hardworking - bold - ambitious - callous the sound of a mechanical keyboard // late nights in the office // monotoned voices // the endless ladder climb to the top // the feeling of fresh pressed slacks // a good button down // fit like a daydream, fly like a jet stream // high school valedictorian // ivy league sweaters // a silent, blank stare // monochrome minimalism // a neat home

insightful - loyal - easy-going - forgetful - carefree a calm river // clear spring day // golden retriever energy // morning time therapy sessions // iced coffee in the winter // gentle breeze on a sunny day // fields of sunflowers // dancing in the rain // saturday morning farmers market // giggles at a sleepover // the smell of the ocean // sneaking in through the garden gate // socks and sandals // endless laughter

confident - vain - resourceful - passionate - lavish a credit card without a limit // the feeling of new clothes // the way a mirror shimmers in the light // a deep red lipstick stain // the smell of a new bottle of champagne // cat eye sharp enough to cut a man // gold jewelry // a mansion on the hill // marvelous balls // private jets to the maldives // glitter and diamonds on the floor // a set of fresh nails

[streetkittyclaws]

🐊blooming gel w/ white gel polish + polygel water droplets for accent nail🐊

((soft gel full cover tips + all gels used -except for the blooming gel- was from the Born Pretty dusty rose collection))

[autumnmoonsurveys]

MONDAY, JANUARY 29, 2024 9:29 AM

How long has it been since you moved out of the house you grew up in?   

About fourteen years now!

What color shirt are you wearing?   

Neon pink. I am not a big fan of pink unless it’s a mauve or dusty, but funny story about this shirt: my husband’s family was having a summer party themed as “dress for your decade” so he had an ‘80s outfit and I had this shirt as part of my ‘90s outfit tied at the front with a side ponytail, high-waisted long leopard print biker shorts, and platform multi-colored pastel Velcro strappy sandals. My husband wore a ripped up Guns N’ Roses tee with cut-off jorts, black nail polish, black Chuck Taylor Converse, and a bandana. Well, apparently he either silenced or removed himself from the group chat that had an update saying they canceled the dress-up theme. So we looked like complete weirdos. 😂

The last time you ate leftovers, what was it that you were eating?   

Spicy chicken cream cheese chili. 😋

What was the last flavor of ice cream you ate?  

Orange cream sherbet.

Do you regret anything you’ve done in the last 24 hours, and if so, what?   

Nah.

What is your favorite type of soup? 🍜   

French onion!

When was the last time you saw a beautiful sunset? 🌅   

Recently.

What is your favorite song at the moment?   

I don’t have one.

What is your favorite board that you’ve made on Pinterest?   

I don’t make boards, I just save recipes.

Do you get on Facebook or Instagram more?   

I *use* FB more.

What color is your favorite sweater?   

I don’t have a favorite.

What are three things people would never guess about you just by looking at the photos you post on social media?   

Uh…ask them!

What is one thing you have too much of?   

Clothes, I suppose.

What was the last thing you ate or drank that was blue raspberry-flavored?

No clue…maybe a gummy.

What are three of your favorite scents?   

Perfume-wise, three of my favorites are Vera Wang “Princess”, “Vacation” (the original), and Calvin Klein “Euphoria”.

What was the last flavor of tea you drank? ☕️   

Just iced sweet tea.

When was the last time you wore your hair in a fishtail braid?   

Never.

What is one annoying thing your computer does?   

I’ve never used Greg’s laptop.

What type of fruit do you eat the most?   

Bananas.

How often do you go out to eat?   

Not often.

What would your dream wedding dress look like? 👰‍♀️   

I bought my wedding dress on Amazon for $50:

Which fall flavor do you prefer: pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon?

Pumpkin spice!

What is the most annoying thing about your life right now?   

The weather, maybe.

Which holiday treat do you like better: candy corn or conversation hearts?

Candy corn.

What is your favorite apple-flavored treat?   

I don’t like artificial apple flavor at all, but I do like actual apple treats. Apple crisp is probably my favorite.

What are you counting down the days to right now, if anything?   

Nothing specific.

What was the last book you read about?   

Everyday magic. 🤍

Have you been daydreaming a lot lately about a scenario you wish would happen? 

Yeah, actually.

What are three of your favorite things about camping? ⛺️   

All of it, really. Nature, quality time, fires…

If you could choose what month to be born in, what month would you have chosen as your birth month, and why?   

I’m content.

…and what is your actual birth month?   

August.

Would you rather eat strawberries 🍓 or watermelon 🍉?

Watermelon.

Do you prefer smoothies or milkshakes? 🍹   

Smoothies.

Do you prefer hamburgers 🍔 or hot dogs 🌭?   

Cheeseburgers.

When was the last time you felt nauseous?   

Last week from random headaches.

What was the last thing you ate that made you feel nauseous?   

🤷‍♀️

Do you enjoy going to your local county fair?   

Yepper.

How far away do you live from the place where you were born?   

Half an hour.

Do you prefer zebra print or cheetah print? 

Cheetah.

[viscountessharma]

ingredients for the eldest daughter

1. a gallon of gas to buy your mother’s christmas present with a tag that reads “from dad” in your handwriting

2. “you are so mature for your age! you must have an old soul!” and a toy box filled with a worn kitchen playset and a barbie still smiling in its box

3. a lead shield held up with sore arms to protect your younger sibling, and a sharp twinge of resentment

4. a thin tightrope that wobbles from side to side and threatens to snap with every tiny misstep, strung across a jagged valley by your parents

5. a sibling’s closet that holds your loved jacket, your favorite purple nail polish and your freedom of being young and innocent

6. a dusty scrapbook displaying childhood photos that reflect differently than your sibling’s rose-colored memories

7. an insatiable ache to be understood and taken care of, but a fearful stubbornness to let people in

— jb

[lilnasxvevo]

What the nail polish looked like in the bottle: kind of a dusty rose, kind of a mauve

What it looks like dry on my nails: it is literally just brown

[nailsaloncosmetics]

Intense builder gel hard

Gel polish: Dusty Rose

Sparkle Diamond Top Coat

Thank U Despoina Trentou

www.nailsalon.gr

#NailSalonCosmetics #NailSalon #cosmetics #nails #nail #salon #Greece #Biotechnology #Gel #Bottled #BuilderGel #colorGel #ColorCoat #GelPolish #LongLasting #NailArt #products #nonalergenic #hemafree #hemafreegelpolish #nontoxic #toxicfree #ecofriendly #crueltyfree

[doccywhomst]

So, it's a well know fact that Eight smells of honey, so what do you think the rest of the Doctors would smell like (Yankee Candle Gallifrey Limited Edition Scents Range?)?

this is an incredible question, and i'm extra excited to answer it because i have smell-color/texture synesthesia! most of my senses overlap significantly - so let's switch on the smell-o-vision and see what's up.

first doctor: the attic. dust, vanilla, clean linen, wool. creaking floor boards. the smell that i associate with a bright window in a dark room. warmth. old, yellowing books. humming. somewhere in the distance, windchimes.

second doctor: the back garden. gardenias, petunias, roses. sweet but earthy. grass and rich, damp soil. cold water. a brook babbling over large, rounded rocks. a recorder. two people talking quietly, then laughing.

third doctor: the garage. metal, oil rags, newspapers, old boxes. clean clothes and grimy hands. a sigh of relief. someone scratching out notes with a fountain pen. operatic singing, including the instrumentals.

fourth doctor: the parlor. honeyed whiskey, smoke, old rugs, books. a drunken game of charades. a gramophone playing softly. glasses clinking. loud, booming laughter. scattered applause and a bow.

fifth doctor: the lawn. freshly cut grass, a cup of afternoon darjeeling with lemon. falling asleep in the sunshine while reading. "tangy." daisy chains. birds singing, friends strolling. ozone - chances of rain later. pages turning.

sixth doctor: the scullery. eggs, toast, ham, and fresh fruit. a spice cabinet. lavender soap. freshly-brewed coffee: two creams, three sugars. morning sunlight through a window prism. reading the paper with your feet up. a friendly and intellectual discussion.

seventh doctor: the library. ink, parchment, leather, your grandfather's cologne. brass knobs on locked mahogany doors. a clock ticking on the mantle. vases filled with fresh lilies. dusty photo albums. someone muttering. typewriter keys clacking. ding.

eighth doctor: the music room, adjacent to the library. the scents mingle with lemon furniture polish, old brocade upholstery, and oil paintings. velvet and satin. darjeeling with honey. an open window. sandalwood. a violin: the whole house sings with it.

shalka doctor: the basement near the cellar. red wine, cheese, oak, cinnamon. chaise lounges, wooden chests, decorative beaded lampshades from the 1920s. an Édith Piaf record plays quietly. framed sepia pictures on every surface. a fireplace glows with embers; he's taking a nap. there's a plate of snickerdoodles on the mantle. (thanks, six.)

war doctor: he hasn't been home in a while.

ninth doctor: the main stairway, just past the foyer. a little trace of every room, plus the metal slag and sulfur on his clothes. a dab of vanilla. halfway up the stairs or halfway down? up, he decides. humming, he reaches the top and wipes the blood from his boots. he hangs his jacket on a hook and smiles.

tenth doctor: the master bedroom, if you can call it that. it's mostly storage space: boxes, filing cabinets, drawers, antique desks, and shelves crammed with mementos. maps cover the walls, but he rarely looks at them. his bed is always made, and never slept in. wood pulp, musk, candle wax, ink, and roses.

eleventh doctor: the games room. chalk, polish, tea brewing, a splash of whiskey from the decanter. billiards and backgammon sets. the Candy Land and Monopoly boxes are well-loved but shelved. the arcades along the back wall are dark and dusty. in a corner, a man plays both sides of chess. he sighs.

twelfth doctor: the office. wood paneling, Persian rugs, a jukebox. piles and piles of ungraded essays. a coffee with ten sugars and a peeled orange. black nail polish, chocolate, spice. every book in the room has been read and annotated, twice. dents in the ceiling from throwing and catching a cricket ball. somewhere, a guitar strums. laughter.

thirteenth doctor: the balcony. fresh air. a hammock creaks. an empty flask of vodka, pink sunglasses, rainbow socks with toes. crystals and half-finished machines litter the stone. plants in painted pots, little gurgling fountains, trays of homemade incense baking in the sun. oh, and windchimes.

so, this turned into a bit of a poetry project, haha.... oops. if you got this far, i congratulate you. in the same way that Yankee Candle names can be very abstract, i wanted to capture the general mood of the doctors' scents and how they relate. ❤

[vukovich]

Vis á Vis á Vis

Malfoy is presumed dead. But to declare him so, there's the matter of finding out who's drawing down his Gringotts accounts. There's also the issue of who's funding the Death Eater revival. Harry, though, is far more concerned with why he's seeing dead people in crowds and why every man he beds feels the same.

Mostly untagged. Mostly unplotted. Daily-ish Tumblr chapters through mid/late-December.

Chapter One

“Malfoy?” Harry spun the file folder around to read the name. “He’s still not declared dead?”

“Not officially.” Robards shook his head, fluorescent lights painting angles on his bare scalp. “Only thing left is confirming there hasn’t been activity on his Gringotts accounts. Last nail in the proverbial coffin.”

“So, is there a form or something the Goblins need to fill out?”

“Nah, their word’s worthless. Just have them give you a list of the last ten years worth of transactions. Should be a blank piece of paper.”

“Right.” Harry wiggled his feet into his shoes under his desk. “You know they hate me, right?”

Robards shrugged and knocked on the cubicle wall in farewell. “They’ll work fast, then.”

--

Beady black eyes glared at him through equally dark wrought iron bars. The Gringotts teller kiosks were ornate like graveyard gates, the inhabitants equally dour.

The Goblin sniffed, scratched his nose, then clicked his tongue. He licked his thin lips and drummed fingernails like talons against the marble countertop.

“I could come back with a warrant, if that would move things along,” Harry said.

With a sigh, the Goblin reached below the counter. “I suppose…” he hoisted a dusty ledger up, “we do what we must to keep the law on our side.” His lips quirked like he’d told an inside joke.

“Right,” Harry said.

The Goblin cracked the ledger open and ran a finger down a page of last names beginning with the letter B. “This could take quite a while, Mr Potter.”

“Auror Potter.”

“The law has no recourse against Creatures. We, however, have all of your gold.” The Goblin ran his tongue across pointed teeth and shot Harry a jack-o’-lantern grin. “Don’t we? Mister Potter.”

Harry tried to keep his face neutral and failed. He’d been in the Gringotts lobby for five hours. Every queue slowed to a halt when he got to the front. By his count, this particular Goblin had gone on break seventeen times.

Harry gripped the polished marble edge between them. “Just give me the list of transactions, and I will get out of your lobby.”

The Goblin smirked. “Testy, testy.” He turned a page and mouthed surnames beginning with Cs to himself. “I’ll find the vault number for this ‘Dalfoy’ of yours soon enough.” He turned another page. “Perhaps even by closing time.”

Harry’s fingerprints left wet whorls on the countertop. He glanced to his left, and the Goblin’s gaze followed. Harry reached through and snatched the ledger. He clutched the pages to his chest and barked a triumphant laugh.

Centuries-old iron groaned, and the lobby went silent. “Oh, shit.”

The bars between him and the Goblin rose like a spill gate. Talon-tipped fingers gripped the sidewalls, and the Goblin stepped onto the counter. The kiosks along the row creaked open, and their tellers followed suit.

Harry clutched the ledger to his chest, wand all but forgotten. “I- I’m just-”

“Robbing us again?”

“N- No. I’m not taking it.”

“Then you won’t mind giving it back.” The Goblin inspected his fingernails, polishing them against his shirt.

Harry slumped. “Can I read it first? Please?”

Down the row, a Goblin clapped slowly.

“Such manners. Read it all you like.”

“Thank you.” Harry hugged the thick book and sighed before closing it. Golden, embossed letters shone on the spine: Family Vaults, A-L. “You smug bastard.”

The Goblin clapped once and grinned a mirthless challenge. “That’s more like it.”

“You sneaky, snot-nosed little cunts.” Harry slammed the ledger on the countertop, narrowly missing the long, bare toes in front of him. “I ought to break your fingers off and shove them up your arse.”

The Goblin dipped his head in a trite bow. “Auror Potter, finally living up to the title.”

A Goblin down the row let out an amused whoop. Witches and wizards watched Harry with thinly veiled concern. The lobby echoed with rhythmic clicking, and the kiosk gates lowered, their tellers stepping safely behind him.

“Now, then.” The Goblin hefted another ledger onto the counter. He cracked it open to a page with Malfoy scrawled in golden ink across the top. “Ten years, correct?”

Harry straightened his robes. “Yes. Any deposits or withdrawals.”

The Goblin hummed and turned several pages. “It may very well take until closing to give you a full list.”

“Very funny, you pint-sized cock-”

The Goblin spun the ledger around and shoved it across the counter. There were pages upon pages of entries. All withdrawals. The most recent one was mere days ago. There was rarely more than a fortnight between transactions.

Harry flipped forward, then back to the half-filled page. “He’s been here?”

The Goblin leaned back to whisper to the tellers on either side of him. He almost looked worried when he turned back to Harry. “No. An assistant, perhaps. We haven’t seen Draco Malfoy since the war, either.”

--

Day seven of the Gringotts stakeout, and Harry was starting to see things. He shifted uneasily on the lobby bench, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

His year four teacher from St Grogory’s, the crotchety old bitch whose hair he’d turned blue, was queuing up behind a wizard in Healer robes. Mrs Pendergrass. The tyrant.

Impossible. He blinked. When that didn’t change her identity, he took his glasses off and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

She was still there when he put his glasses back on. She approached the kiosk, an enormous floral purse dangling from her forearm, and drew a wand from her sleeve.

The Goblin teller glanced at Harry, and the hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end. Harry leaned forward, weight on the balls of his feet. The tip of one of the Goblin’s ears flicked. Harry sprang from the bench and crossed the lobby.

Mrs Pendergrass looked over her shoulder. “Oh!” She snatched her wand up from where it lay on the ledger, open to the Malfoy accounts. “Oh, my!”

Harry loomed over her as best he could. She wasn’t a small woman, nor was he a large man.

She swept a pile of Galleons into her bag and turned, blocking his view of the kiosk. “Mr Potter! My, my, how you’ve grown!”

She patted his chest, and he recoiled. “Mrs Pendergrass.”

“Oh! Darling!” She backpedaled toward the lobby doors and waved. “So lovely to see you!”

Harry stood next to the kiosk, slack-jawed. On the countertop lay the ledger, a magic-secured transaction still glowing with today’s date. Two-hundred Galleons. Not a trifling amount.

The Goblin snapped the book shut and shoved it under the desk. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the Goblin cut him off. “I look forward to seeing that warrant.”

Harry couldn’t form the words to parry a surly Goblin. He was behaving suspiciously, but that wasn’t Harry’s top concern. Nor was he worried about the amount of money. Or the magical signature issue. Or that she’d been nice to him.

No, what niggled at his mind, first and foremost, was that Mrs Pendergrass was dead.

--