#god love them- they had like a few days at the end of August to chart and scour (they were also primarily focused on finding written

[forestofsprites]

65% of my work atm is essentially taking historical maps/first-hand accounts and plotting them to modern day satellite, google earth imagery, and boy ! mapping in the 19th century, huh

[eyesofshan-if]

what are your favourite IFs and ROs?

oooh... juicy 🧃to be honest, i haven't had much time to read other ifs, so i don't know that many of them! but here are the few that i'm actively follow and obsess over (and look up to as literary masters because gosh)

infamous by /infamous-if. literally everyone and their mother knows this if and what can i say 🥲 i'm one of the many sheeple too. i'm so obsessed?? with the way amy writes messy relationships and people because i could never make them feel natural. like i try and it just reads like two toddlers squabbling in a parking lot. somehow she manages to make writing a fictional song in a fictional music competition fun. the ros feel like living breathing people. it's amazing to read and to learn from. but yeah august, seven and orion all have a vice grip on my heart

/merrycrisis-if and /collegetennisoriginstory!! i'm head over heels for three out of the four ros in the tennis game. allie's diction is so good and flows so well it intimidates me. like where is this vocabulary coming from. the words are so light?? and there's an upbeat feel to each sentence and the pace feels like skipping home after a long day ends. how is there humour that is actually funny in every sentence. why am i already in love with the ros even though i've only spent one scene with them. truly the slice of life god. she's making me want to go to university but i am already!! in university!! and disclaimer its nowhere near as fun 🥲!!!! i use her work as a writing study for my own 😭 g, rayyan and SAMMMMMM!!!!! gods i want to hold them in my hands and go 💋💋💋💋💋

other ifs i follow are ATOC (it got me into the if community and xelef? mwah mwah), golden rose, fallen hero (ortega my love), the exile and when twilight strikes. but it's been a while since i've read them so my memory might be a little rusty. still, they're all wonderful books and i check up on them from time to time :))

if you have any recommendations though, i'm all for suggestions!!

[sailoryooons]

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

❀ Word Count: 4188 

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED. 

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried. 

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family. 

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up. 

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games. 

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask. 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr. 

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you. 

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches. 

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling. 

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text. 

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous. 

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire. 

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix. 

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable. 

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy. 

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there. 

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler. 

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm. 

It’s you. You’re the storm. 

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you. 

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target. 

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air. 

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him. 

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach. 

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known. 

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing. 

“I’ll miss that. Take this.” 

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open. 

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. 

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier. 

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic. 

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris. 

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down. 

All he can do is scream.

-

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core. 

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions. 

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise. 

Penance and praise are not the same, though. 

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest. 

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically. 

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner. 

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon. 

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench. 

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child. 

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands. 

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar. 

It smells like… Yoongi. 

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?” 

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.” 

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands. 

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat. 

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.” 

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?” 

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight. 

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.” 

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile. 

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time. 

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers. 

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.” 

[chasedbyatlantic]

puppy love, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — when joel is upset, you do anything and everything in your power to cheer him up. this means showing him your new guitar skills, while singing one of his favourite songs to him.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, implied relationship, gender!neutral reader, sub!joel, lovey dovey joel and reader, ellie being a little shit once again, swearing, literally all fluff because i can, brief mention of death/killing (very very brief! shows up like two times), bad descs of guitar playing since i haven't played in like 10 years LOL, lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: my second fic!!!!! i sort of love this one?? also tysm for the love on my first! looking for moots too! hmu if you wanna <3 make sure to reblog, like, and comment on this plz and thank u! if u have any requests for a fic lmk (dms r open for it!) more to come soon xoxo

—

God only knew what time it was. You had an infuriating day at work, training all new people on how to successfully patrol Jackson's surrounding areas, and how to not- well, die. This was always your least favourite time of year, to say the least. All the "fresh meat" had been selected to be potential patrolers, and they had to go through extensive training to make sure they were one hundred percent qualified and committed to the role.

Both you and Joel were practically put into this role by Maria (Joel's sister-in-law), not by force, but more of a "you would be doing the entire Jackson community a whole favour if you did this" sort of thing - guilt, most would say. Maria had even tried to get Ellie to help train people, but Joel almost killed Maria by his glare when she brought it up to the two of you.

Even though you hated this role in the community, you think Joel liked it. He had a bit too much fun getting to put kids in check, and humble them big time. At least it was only for a few months, you had kept reminding yourself. The few months were from early June until late September, though - the hottest months of the year. The before dawn wake up calls, and after dusk ends would only last for another month, since it was sometime in the middle of August right now.

After getting home extremely late, around an hour or two ago, you had already taken a shower and changed into more comfortable clothes before you went and sat on your back porch. Even though you didn't want to be outside anymore than you had to right now, Ellie had one of her friends over and wanted privacy. You love the kid, so you gave her the privacy (not much privacy, only hanging out in the living room of your home).

You were able to tell Joel was finished with his shower when you heard high-pitched and muffled screams coming from inside the house behind you. Just as you went to turn your head around to see what exactly the commotion he was causing inside was, the familiar figure of Joel Miller left the glass door, with the door slamming shut behind him. "Everything alright in there, cowboy?" You hummed to him as the nickname rolled off your tongue, scooching over on the step you were seated on to give the man some room to sit.

"Fucking Christ," He started as he took a seat next to you, "they were paintin' their nails, or somethin'. Said I wasn't allowed anywhere near 'em in that room, or they'd be off with me." Joel had grunted once he was completely lowered on this step, his bones weren't as good as they used to he would say.

This earned a snort from you, "No way- Ellie's paintin' her nails? Your girl's really growin' up, Joel." You couldn't believe she was doing this, to be honest. Ellie had stated to both you and Joel that she was not girly whatsoever, and would rather turn into a clicker than wear a dress or do her makeup. After you had said this to Joel, he looked to be upset. He didn't want Ellie growing up, his girl growing up. "Joking, joking."

He took his eyes off of you, and moved them forward. "Nah, you're right," Joel had sighed, "she won't need me soon. Soon she'll-" He had trailed off, quiet now. Fuck- why did you bring this up, you had thought to yourself. You could only place your hand on Joel's thigh. "She'll always need you, Joel. Shit, she'd be death without ya'. Lighten up a bit baby, she ain't going anywhere."

Joel knew it was true, he was just having a really emotional moment right now, it was most likely from being up since five in the morning. "Dunno 'bout that." He had only muttered, placing his hand over yours. You tsked, putting some pressure on his thigh as you got up in an awkward fashion. "Where are ya'-"

"I have an idea, hold on." You had cut him off, making your way back inside. You were engulfed by the sounds of laughter as soon as you stepped foot through the patio door. You were silent about it, not wanting to bother Ellie or her friend. You had silently moved to the house's spare room, where the three of you put anything and everything. You had grabbed what you were looking for almost instantly (it had a distinct shape) and made your way back outside.

Joel turned his head once you had stepped outside again, his eyes moving down to what you had in hand, then gaining eye contact. "Is that my-" he couldn't even finish his sentence. You grinned as you pulled the lawn chair over, placing the case on the floor and unlatching the sides. You had picked up the piece of polished wood and string and placed the curved part on top of your knee.

"Okay so," You had started as Joel turned around to give you his full attention. He looked handsome like this- more than handsome, actually. The way the dull light from inside of your home highlighted his face almost perfectly- ugh, you couldn't get enough of it. "From all of the, sort of, free time I have had in the last few months, I decided to sort of, really badly, learn a few songs?" It came out more of a question than it did a statement, and Joel took notice of this with only a laugh in return.

"Anything ya' play'll be gorgeous, baby." Joel could only look at you in complete awe; if he didn't love you one hundred percent before, he sure as fuck did now. Instead of sitting down, Joel stood up and was now leaning against the wooden beam behind him. He towered over you, only inches away- this got you on even more of an edge.

"Okay, please don't kill me if I don't get the chords right- I don't think I read the notes properly." You awkwardly chuckle as you avoid eye contact with Joel at the current second. Joel knows a guitar from the inside-out, but even if you messed up, he would not care at all. You took the time to learn his favourite instrument, and this only put him in an ecstatic mood.

"Pick a number one through three." You told him as you move your left hand up the neck, and your right arm drooped over the body. "Three." He replied almost too fast, he was just so eager to hear you play.

You brought your fingers through the strings before you started, making sure it was in tune. You glance up towards Joel, "It's in tune, right?" You ask him. A chuckle escapes his lips as he nods, "Don't worry baby, it is."

You (unfortunately) tore your eyes apart from Joel's as you focus on both your left and right hands now. Multitasking was hard for you before this, so you struggled a bit to play. You inhale slowly, placing your fingers on the top three strings on the fingerboard. You strum from both left and right, meeting to the middle string as the first chord.

"And they called it puppy love," your voice was quiet and sounded more hoarse than relaxed, which you mentally slapped yourself for. Before hounding yourself about it even more, you had to focus on changing the chords another four times as you repeated the strumming rhythm.

"Oh, I guess they'll never know," There wasn't any moving, or talking, or breathing (from the sound of it) from Joel. He was just- mesmerized, mesmerized by what you had been doing with your fingers, with your voice, with everything. If the world hadn't gone to shit, you most definitely would've had a big breakout as an up-and-coming music star, he had thought to himself.

"How a young heart, how it really feels, and why I love him so," You had changed the lyrics, and Joel noticed - you changed "her" to "him". Honestly, Joel only noticed because it was you singing it (and he loved you deeply), and that whenever he would spend time with his grandfather when he was little, this song was played a million times. Had he ever told you about his love for this song, or was it just a coincidence?

"And they called it puppy love," You repeated yourself, emotion starting to seep through your voice. "Just because we're seventeen," If you weren't so lost in your train of thought, of remembering where to put your fingers for the next chord, and the correct strumming pattern, and the lyrics, you would've noticed Ellie and her friend silently sneak out onto the porch.

"Tell them all, it isn't fair. To take away my only dream," You had paused strumming for a single second, it sounded like a dramatic pause in Joel's eyes. You had just completely lost your breath from a combination of singing and nerves. After the (painfully long, you thought) second was over, you started once again.

"I cry each night, my tears for you. My tears are all in vain," The chord pattern you had going changed for the last time, and your strums started to sound quiet, your voice dying out while all of this happened. Joel took notice of this, standing up completely now (from leaning against the wooden beam behind). The two girls behind you were still so silent, almost just as mesmerized with you as Joel was.

"Oh, I'll hope and pray, that maybe someday," You inhale as your thumb starts to brush down from the highest string to the lowest string, "You'll be back in my arms once again." A loud exhale falls through your mouth, followed by the two girls bursting out with clapping and compliments. This does nothing short than scaring the absolute fuck out of you, causing the guitar to slip out of your grip.

Luckily, with Joel being completely focused on you, he had came to the rescue and snatched the guitar before it had fell on the ground. You shoot him an apologetic look before turning around to the two girls, he just looks at you with understanding eyes. "You guys almost made me drop the fuckin' thing- how long were you there for?" You question them, eyeing between the two. Their clapping hands were now silent and playing with their thumbs, almost nervous from you.

"Ya' know what, it doesn't matter. Inside- go, it's bedtime." You had scolded the two, as if you were their mother. Ellie's friend had opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Ellie gripping her hand and yanking her back inside. You start to turn back to face Joel, after snapping. "Fuck, we can never have a minute of fuckin' sile-".

He cut you off by smashing his lips into yours. He was acting as if though he was touch deprived, if he hadn't seen you for years. You two just move in sync for what feels like forever (not that you're complaining, though), before you pull away.

Before you have the chance to say anything, Joel brings you to your feet and sets the guitar down on your previous seat, embracing you in a tight hug. You can feel his rough facial hair on the exposed parts of your neck as he exhales, you definitely don't mind. "I needed that more than anythin', darlin'." He admits to you.

"Anythin' for my favourite person." You remind him, bringing your hand to the back of his head. It was true, you would do anything for this man. You would steal for him, kill for him, anything he wanted.

The sun was threatening to peak through the moonlit skies, you knew you two had to be up and about soon enough, but that didn't stop you. You were laying in bed together, tangled between each other's arms. The covers were kicked off your shared bed, and a small breeze cruising the room every so often from the open windows.

"I think it's true." You had broken the comfortable silence that filled the room. Joel didn't move from his position (half of his body on you), just hummed with his eyes staying shut. "What is, baby?"

"The song- fuck, I don't want to sound cheesy or nothin'." You admit, before continuing, "You just, ya' know, I love you's all." You send a small squeeze through Joel's hand, that vibrates his entire body. This results in him dropping your hand and lifting it to wrap around your chest. "Nothin' cheesy 'bout that." His voice was even more hoarse than when you had lost your fears of singing in front of someone, in front of Joel. You now went silent, just loving his embrace.

"Darlin'?" He now broke the silence after a minute or two, eyes still shut and not moving whatsoever. You gave a hum in response, just like he did earlier. "Ya' said to pick a number between three before ya' played earlier, were the other options real?" This was your favourite, vulnerable Joel.

"It was, and before you ask-" you pause, bringing your hand to the back of his head, just like earlier. You ran your fingers through his restless curls. "-I'll play the rest for ya'. Promise." Joel had obviously liked this answer, as he responded with a sloppy kiss to your collarbone.

You would learn every lyric in the world, every chord in the world, every strum in the world, just for Joel to be happy. You didn't want anything more in this world than for him to be happy. If he was happy, so were you.

-

puppy love, paul anka

[freedomfireflies]

Harry in Your Highlight Reel

Thought I'd try my hand at this trend (trope? style?)! No idea if I'm doing it right, but he's cute so...it doesn't matter

July 17, 2019

The day we thought we'd give the zoo a try. He was convinced the orangutan was staring at him.

It was not.

He was also convinced that it wanted to crawl through the bars and start combing through his hair to eat it.

He then spent the rest of the day asking me if his hair looked "edible," and I spent the rest of the day wishing the orangutan had eaten me instead.

August 03, 2021

"Let's go out to dinner!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said.

Last time I let this beautiful, British bastard convince to do anything, I swear to God.

First of all, we got a flat tire on the way to the restaurant. And then realized very quickly that neither one of us actually knew how to change a tire.

So, we took an Uber (even though he has enough money to just...buy a brand new car, but whatever), and it smelled like pickles. So...you know, great start.

The restaurant was packed, and apparently it was bring your horny ass to dinner and stare at my boyfriend night. You know, just another great perk. I believe we got a solid five seconds where someone wasn't trying to sit on his lap.

The couple next to us was in the middle of breaking up, and honestly...it was kind of fun to listen to. We made bets, which was terrible of us, but long story short, Harry owes me 10 bucks.

They got our order wrong, which wasn't a big deal except for the fact that Harry has an "allergy" to tomatoes (he just doesn't like them, and always ends up shoving them onto my plate) (which he did) (and I loved them)

Then, we went to the bar to get a drink before we left and he choked on an olive.

So...overall, just an average date night for us.

10/10 will probably let him convince me to do it again and I hate myself for it.

September 29, 2022

Found this throwback in my camera roll the other day, and sent it to Harry while he was in a meeting. Made a joke about wanting to sit on his lap and bite all over his thighs (as one does, of course), and then asked what the fuck was up with his toes. Mostly just to make him squirm during his appointment.

Uh, turns out I didn't send it to Harry.

I sent it to Anne.

And because she's Anne, she completely ignored what I said and made some comment about how little he was, how precious, and how he's all grown up.

Anyway, long story short, I won't be going home for Christmas this year, and will immediately be throwing myself under a car (shoutout to my hero, Mr. Jason Sudeikis, love ya buddy)

Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

June 04, 2020

He's gonna look so sexy in adult diapers 😍😍😍

March 11, 2023

Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline 🥰

No, but why was his hair so flowy? Fuck Prince Eric, this is Ariel. Or Ariel's daughter, from the second one. Oh, he'd crush that. Hold up, lemme call his agent

Edit: After showing this to Harry, he has demanded I retract my statement and amend it to clarify that he feels like more of a Belle type? And then suggested I play The Beast, so...he'll be sleeping on the couch for the next few weeks.

Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 5: The Dangerous Skies

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

This chapter has been a while in the making and a small idea that erupted into a whole lot of chaos. Please comment and reblog and let us know what you think.

Summary: After an accident causes Gale to realise how precious, he decides to make the most of everyday with the woman he loves. While John realises how he really feels about Ruth.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

Monday, August 23, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

Regensburg, Germany…the mission that earned the Hundredth its nickname was finally over.

Nine forts lost.

Ninety men gone just like that.

Ninety boys who would not return to their families.

Among these ninety men was Curt. Buck and John were still in shock when their small group of officers tiredly pushed through the doors into their nissen hut. A few beds were made with fresh sheets, all remnants of their previous owners long gone.

Gale flopped down on his bunk, throwing his kitbag down beside him. There was a small stack of letters on his nightstand and he stretched over the bed, his fingers grasping at the string that bound them together. His fingers running over the familiar return address as he tore open the first letter from Hope, his eyes scanning over her words quickly, desperate to know what she had written. He still had her picture from the plane tucked firmly into his pocket, he wasn’t about to leave her behind in Africa.

August 17th 1943

To my dearest Gale,

I can’t even begin to explain how worried I am about you. Ruth and I barely slept last night, thinking of you both preparing for your mission. I did not think it was possible to miss someone so much and after only a few hours apart as I write this. I miss you Gale. Today was perfect and I wish I could live there forever, in your arms by the river, with Meatball too of course.

The radio is playing our song right now. Well, I call it our song “You’ll Never Know” which is a strange choice for our song maybe because I only hope you do know just how much I love you. I wish you were here now to sing it with me.

I have been thinking about our lives after this war. When we get home. I saw how you were with Meatball the other day and I think our first order of business as a married couple should be to get a dog. Just think of all the walks we could go on, just the three of us. Life would be so perfect.

The only comfort I can find is knowing that I’ll be there with you on your mission, and not just my picture but I’ll be with you in spirit all the way there and back. And I know you will come back. I have asked Hugh to keep you safe and I know that you will look out for him too. I never realised how hard it would be to have both of you in harms way. I can only hope that his stubbornness and your skills will bring you both safely home to me. You mean the world to me Gale.

Yours forever

Hope

Gale smiled fondly, his eyes lingering on ‘yours forever’. He still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up with someone as amazing and kind as Hope, but he thanked God every night for bringing her to him. The second letter was addressed August 19th, just two days after the previous letter and Gale smirked, knowing that Hope didn’t want to seem desperate but she was just as worried as he was.

Dear Gale,

It’s been exactly two days, four hours and twenty four minutes since I last wrote to you and I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

She was counting down the days. Gale's heart swelled at the thought of her, sitting at the desk in the corner of the girls room, her pen sitting between her lips as she pondered what to write.

Somehow parting with you this time was so much worse than any of the others. It’s like I left a piece of my heart at Thorpe Abbott with you. I hope you’re keeping my heart safe wherever you are because I need you to bring it back to me.

Ruth has already begun to design her bridesmaid dress for our wedding and I fear she has broken the news to John already, I hope that doesn’t put you in a bind or anything. I think she is as excited as I am. Frank has also been enquiring into wedding planning. I feel like they will have planned the whole event before we are even officially engaged.

Mrs Hope Cleven does have a nice ring to it. I’ve also thought more about the situation of a dog once we are back in the states and I like the sound of a spaniel. They have the sweetest little faces and the biggest droopy ears. I can’t stop imagining the three of us exploring the country together.

I apologies if I’m getting ahead of myself. I know you haven’t officially proposed and you must think me a foolish girl for talking about it so much, but it’s the only thing that gets me through each day without you. The only thing that gets me into our plane in the morning is the thought of you and one day being in your arms once more.

On another note, I hope Hugh is keeping out of trouble. I’m afraid he’s been drawn to it since he was a boy creating havoc wherever he went. You’re lucky he likes you, otherwise I’m afraid he would be giving you hell.

Come back to me Gale. I love you.

Yours forever

Hope

The third letter soon followed, dated August 21st.

To my dearest Gale,

I’m sorry for sending so many letters. I’m sure you are so busy so please do not feel obliged to reply to them all separately. I find writing to you helps calm my nerves, it’s the only way I feel close to you when you are not here.

“So what’s this I hear you’re engaged to my sister?” Gale’s head shot up and he came face to face with Hugh, who was staring blankly at him. He couldn’t read his emotions and didn’t know whether he was happy or he was about to punch Gale in the face. Swallowing hard, Gale nodded slowly, eyeing his fellow pilot cautiously until a wide grin broke out across Hugh’s face and he jumped up, moving to sit next to Gale on his bunk.

“I’m so happy for you, Gale. Good luck with that one, she acts all sweet and innocent but she’s a wild card. You know what I told you about Kansas City.”

Gale laughed, relieved that Hugh wasn’t about to try and murder him.

“So, have you got a ring?” Hugh cocked an eyebrow at him and Gale shook his head.

“No, not yet. I haven’t even officially asked her,” Gale sighed, suddenly feeling guilty that he’d somehow lied to her by not actually asking her.

“Well, then you are in luck because I do,” Hugh stood up from the bed and moved over to his own, rummaging in the bedside cabinet for a few minutes, while Gale looked on confused.

“Ah ha!” Hugh called out triumphantly, his hand clasped around a small black box which he quickly placed in Gale’s hand.

“What’s this?” Gale glanced down it the box, running his thumb over the round, leather box.

“That, Gale, is an engagement ring,” Hugh grinned, seemingly impressed with himself for producing a ring out of thin air.

“But why have you got an engagement ring?” Gale glanced up at Hugh, watching as his face fell a little.

“Well, it’s a long story. There was a girl back in the States, I thought she was the one. Turns out while I was training to fly B17s, she was making her way around all the single men in town. My parents were less than impressed when they found out. But I already had a ring so I bought it with me.”

Gale chuckled, “So you bought an engagement ring to war just in case?”

Hugh nodded, “Pretty much. Well, it came in use right, now you can give it to Hope.”

Gale shook his head, pushing the box back into Hugh’s hand, “I can’t take this. It’s your ring.”

Hugh passed the box back to Gale, shaking his head, “But I want you to have it. I have no use for it and anyway, I know Hope will love it because she helped me pick it out in the first place.” Hugh lay his hand on Gale’s back. “Take it, please.”

Gale smiled weakly, opening up the box and revealing a small gold band with intricate silver weaving on either side and a diamond on top. “Alright, thanks, Hugh.” He shook his fellow pilot's hand, and Hugh grinned happily back at him.

“Welcome to the family, Cleven.”

“Got any big news you wanna share with the class, Buck?” John asked from his bed, raising his eyebrows at Gale while holding up a letter.

Gale confusedly looked over at him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rolling his eyes at Hugh, Buck sauntered over to John, standing over him with hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Hope Cleven,” the older man grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

A bashful smile appeared on Gale’s face. “I’ve got a ring and everything, now. It’ll be after all this is over.”

Standing to his feet, Bucky pulled him into a tight hug and lifted him off the ground. “Whenever it happens, I better be the best man! That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, you will be,” Buck chuckled as John put him down, releasing him from his grip. “Just don’t tell Hugh that.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Hugh shouted across the officer's hut causing Gale to groan.

“Well, it makes sense. I am Buck’s best friend,” John retorted, sending a sly smirk Hugh’s way which only riled the man further.

“Yeah, and Hope’s my sister. I’m his future brother-in-law.”

Gale stepped back as Hugh stomped over to them, coming chest to chest with John who just continued to playfully glare down at him.

“So what? You're a St. Louis fan,” Bucky pointed at him, a grin tugging at his lips. “That instantly makes you not best man material.”

Hugh snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and I suppose you being a great Yankees fan makes you the right choice, huh?”

“Absolutely,” John replied matter of factly. “How can you cheer for a team who lost 11-3 to the Pirates? The Pirates.”

“At least we didn’t get shut out by the Indians.”

Gale knew this wasn’t going to end well. No one could insult the Yankees and get away with that in John’s eyes...except for Ruth, of course. Before John could find a comeback, Gale stepped up, moving to stand between the two men.

“Now, now. I’m not having you two fighting over being my best man. If it’s that much of a problem I’ll make Demarco my best man and Meatball can be the ring bearer.”

Neither of the men seemed too pleased with that outcome.

“Not Demarco!”

“Yes Demarco.”

John groaned, pursing his lips, and Hugh remained silent, looking at the ground solemnly at their childish behaviour.

“You should choose whoever you want to be your best man, but-” John began with a nod before Hugh interrupted.

“Yeah pick who you want, Gale. Hope will probably want me to walk her down the aisle anyway so I’ll probably be in the bridal party instead.”

John snickered with raised brows as he imagined Hugh in a bridesmaid’s dress, but he fell silent when Gale elbowed him in the ribs, glaring at him.

“Come here,” Bucky pulled Gale into another hug and slapped his friend’s back, “Congratulations Buck! You’re a helluva guy.”

“The best,” Hugh added.

As they stood there celebrating Buck’s life-changing news, the trio couldn’t help but think of their close friend who wasn’t. Their group got even smaller…

“Curt…he would,” John cleared his throat and nodded, forcing down the emotion that threatened to creep up his throat. “He would be happy for you, Buck.”

Gale’s eyes met Bucky’s and they mirrored the same emotions…hurt, regret, sadness. The men who came back never talked about those who didn’t, and both of them knew this was the one time they would.

“Yeah, he would,” Buck breathed, one side of his lips barely turning up into a mournful smile.

Silence filled the air around them there for a few moments, all three stuck in their minds until Gale spoke up.

“That from Ruth?” Buck asked, gesturing to the letter in Johnny’s hand.

He nodded once and sat down on his bunk with a soft smile, suddenly remembering the last half of Ruth’s letter he still had to read. “I’ve got another one to read after this one. Then I’ve gotta write her back.”

As Gale looked down at his friend’s lovesick gaze, he smiled to himself and shook his head. If someone had asked him if John Egan would be rushing to read love letters and send a response to a woman, one woman, whom he’d been exclusively seeing for over a month, Buck Cleven would’ve told them they were crazy.

“Tell her I said hello,” Gale said quietly, patting Johnny’s shoulder before returning to his bunk.

Saturday, August 28, 1944: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

John, Gale, and Hugh were riding from their nissen huts to the mess hall when the familiar roar of a C-47 filled the air. They were used to the sound meaning their girls were on base, and it filled them with excitement as they peddled faster to the landing strip.

“Did you know they were coming today?” Buck asked, quickly glancing over at Johnny and Hugh.

John shook his head, a lazy grin curving his lips. “No, Ruth didn’t mention it in her last letter.”

Nodding to himself, Gale couldn’t shake the feeling deep down that something was wrong. As they approached the airstrip, Colonel Harding appeared, calling out to John.

“Bucky! I need a minute,” he yelled from the balcony of the nearby flight tower.

Holding in a groan, Johnny nodded at Hugh and turned his bike toward the tower. “Tell Ruth I’ll see her in a minute.”

The boys had been thankful they didn’t have a mission that day, and instead spent their time on base with their girls. Gale and Hope had gone back to the officers Nissan hut and spent most of the day cuddling on the bed after their shower, happy to be back in each other's arms. Ruth and John had spent the rest of the day together too, giving Hope some time alone to recover, before coming back to the hut in the afternoon.

After Ruth and John left the Nissan hut, Gale found himself dozing once more, his eyes growing heavy as he fought off sleep. A light knock on the door roused him.

“Come in.”

A worried Hugh poked his head around the door, chewing his lip anxiously, a habit that Gale noticed Hope always did. “Can I come in?” He asked, glancing at his sleeping sister.

“Of course,” Gale waved him in and watched as his fellow pilot made his way over, flopping down on his cot beside them.

“How’s she doing?” Hugh found himself fighting the urge to brush the loose hair off Hope’s face, smiling when Gale did the same. It was unusual for an older brother to approve of his sister's choice of partner, but Hugh didn’t think that there was a more genuine, or honourable man out there than Gale Cleven.

“She’s doing okay. The morphine had helped, she was in a lot of pain earlier but she’s managed to get some rest,” Gale admitted, stroking her hair softly. He couldn’t help the gentle smile that formed on his lips every time he looked at her.

“That’s good then,” Hugh went to stand when he noticed the ring adoring Hope’s finger and a wide smile spread across his face. “You popped the question then.”

Gale smiled, “I did, and she said yes.”

Hugh laughed at the proud expression on Gale’s face. “Well I didn’t exactly expect her to say no. She’s all you talk about in her letters. Our parents are excited to meet you. She sent a picture of you home and if I remember correctly my mother thought you were ‘a fine young man’.” Hugh moved to rest his hand on Gale’s shoulder, “I’m real happy for you both, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks Charliee,” the two men kept eye contact until Hugh cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. “I best be heading back. I promised Demarco I’d look after Meatball for a few hours.”

Gale nodded, “Feel free to bring Meatball by, I’m sure Hope would appreciate the visit. Our first order of business after the wedding is to get a dog.”

Hugh smirked, “Is it a spaniel by any chance? She’s always had a soft spot…”

“For the long fluffy ears,” Gale finished, “Yeah it is.”

Hugh snorted, “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gale glanced back down at Hope, she looked so peaceful that he hated to wake her. The door closing softly signaled Hugh leaving and Gale sighed, leaning back against his pillow.

He smoothed his hand over Hope’s head, brushing the soft locks away from her face, fingers tracing the pale flesh of her temples. His other hand remained firmly around hers, wrapping them close to his chest, over his heartbeat. He hadn’t truly processed how close he’d come to losing her today, if the shrapnel had gone any further to the left it would have hit her femoral artery and she’d have bled out before the plane even touched the tarmac. Gale shook the thought from his mind, trying to concentrate on Hope’s rhythmic breathing in time with his own. She’s alive. She’s still here.

Gale had known this war wouldn’t be easy, he’d known that he would lose people, friends, brothers, but he hadn’t banked on falling in love and he hadn’t banked on her being up in the air during combat like he was.

Hope snuggled deeper into his chest and Gale’s arm instinctively pulled her closer. They had survived another day: together.

Gale’s mind began to wonder as his eyes traced the elongated semicircles that lined the roof of the Nissen hut. Thinking back on happier times when the girls visiting the base meant that it was going to be a good day.

Hope sighed loudly, folding up the third crate of dressing material, and packing it into the smaller crates to be loaded onto their C47 later that afternoon. It was a tiresome, mind numbing job but someone had to do it. A loud crash, followed by a small whine caused Hope to shoot up for her seat, hurting towards the noise where she found a rather disheveled looking navigator sitting on the infirmary room floor.

“Oh you poor thing. Here come take a seat,” Hope ushered the rather green looking navigator towards the empty chair.

The man plonked himself down with a sigh, gratefully accepting the glass of water Hope offered to him.

“Whatever’s the matter…?” Hope asked, pausing as she realised she didn’t know the man’s name, although she recognised him from around the base.

“Oh Harry, Harry Crosby,” the man thrust his hand pathetically forward and Hope shook it carefully. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I'm normally fine once we’re in the air. All the boys will be rigging me later for being in dock again.”

Realising that this must be the navigator with air sickness she had heard about from the infirmary’s doctor, Hope sighed, “It’s alright. Everything’s different up there when you're in combat. It’s bound to play on your nerves,” Hope reassured him, smoothing the sweaty hair away from his forehead and placing a cool, wet cloth there instead.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Hope whispered, glancing over her shoulder jokingly to make sure no one else was around. “I used to get terribly air sick when I first started my flight training.”

“Really?” Harry asked in amazement, his large eyes staring back at her reminded Hope of an excitable child.

“Oh yeah, I was terrible. I took a bucket up with me on every flight and tried not to eat in the mornings but I was still sick, every damn time.”

Harry wrinkled his nose before asking, “But you're not sick anymore?”

“No. Not anymore, luckily. I don’t think I’d have made much of a flight nurse if I was being sick all the time.”

Harry looked down sadly at his map case, “I don’t suppose I make much of a navigator either.”

Hope pulled her chair closer to Harry’s, “Now you listen here. You are a fine navigator Harry Crosby. You navigated through flak fire and you bought all the boys home. That is not something to be snubbed at, understood.” Harry nodded quickly and Hope gave him a reassuring smile. “Good. I don’t want to hear any more negative talk, alright? You’re good at your job, Harry and with time the sickness will fade, I promise.”

Harry stayed a little longer until his nausea subsided and he finally felt well enough to leave the infirmary. Hope began to tidy away some bandages when Gale stuck his head around the door.

“Knock, Knock?”

“Hello Major, and what brings you down here today?” Hope asked, smiling brightly at him.

“Oh I’m just here to see the prettiest girl in all of England. Have you seen her around?” Gale asked, glancing quickly around the infirmary before his eyes returned to Hope’s.

“No, I'm afraid I can’t say I have. Better luck next time, Major.” Hope turned her back to move away from him but his hands quickly found her waist and he spun her around.

“Not so fast, Beautiful. I haven’t seen My Baby all day and I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“Your Baby, huh?”

“Well yeah. Well you see the plane is ‘Our Baby’ because the whole crew get her but only I get ‘My Baby’,” he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her as he kissed her pressure point gently.

“Is that so?”

“Oh it is so.”

“Well then, there’s only one thing for it,” Hope pressed her lips firmly to his, weaving her fingers into his hair and pushing him towards the table. As the backs of his thighs came into contact with it, he sat down, allowing Hope the height advantage but allowing himself to wrap his arms tightly around her torso.

“Now this is what you call a welcome home,” he laughed between kisses, pulling Hope even closer so they could embrace. The table creaked beneath Gale’s wait but he was unphased, too preoccupied with holding his girl, to finally have her back in his arms, that’s all that mattered.

Gale smiled, eyes closed as the images of Hope’s smiling face filled his mind. She was here. She was safe and that’s all that mattered.

Hugh returned later that evening with food for the two couples and Meatball following along at his heels. The large husky made a beeline for Hope, greeting her at the side of the bed.

“Hey Meatball,” Hope mumbled, leaning as far as she could to ruffle the dogs fur. Meatball groaned when she began scratching his ear, he closed his eyes and tilted his head, expressing his enjoyment. “Who's a good boy?” Meatball hopped up on the bed, snuggling into Hope’s side.

“You can keep him if you want. The damn thing keeps howling. It’s driving me insane,” Hugh complained, passing Hope a bowl of steaming soup. “When Demarco gets back I’m giving him a piece of my mind, leaving me to mind his dog all afternoon.”

Hope accepted the soup gratefully, but could only manage a few mouthfuls until the wave of nausea washed over her once more, and she placed the bowl down.

“Ugh, I feel so sick.”

Gale was at her side in an instant, his hand resting on the small of her back as she bent over, head in her hands. Ruth looked anxiously at John from their seats on John’s bed and started to put down her bowl to help when Hope spoke up.

“It’s okay Gale, it’s just the morphine,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand, to which he pressed his lips to her shoulder blade.

Hugh sniggered, “He didn’t get you pregnant while I was away did he?”

“With us in here? Sounds like a nightmare,” John chuckled, rolling his eyes at the same time Ruth grimaced from beside him. She knew a signature Hope Armstrong comeback was incoming.

Hope glared at him,”The fact that you have so little knowledge on pregnancy concerns me for your future wife.”

Hugh stuck his tongue out in response, “That’s not a no though.”

The pillow from Gale’s bed was a near miss as it went sailing past Hugh’s head and he dodged it dramatically, glaring at his sister.

“Come on, with all the ‘Dear John’ letters Sparky gets, I’d be surprised if he ever settles down,” John joined in.

“Look who’s talking, Bucky,” Hugh retorted, pointing at Ruth with his spoon. “At least I got letters. You didn’t get a single one before Ruth came along.”

“Really?” Ruth asked quietly, surprise etched on her face.

The Major nodded with pursed lips, pushing the vegetables around his bowl before looking over at her with a small smile. “There was no one worth writing to.”

At his words, the blonde’s cheeks heated, and she got caught in his gaze.

From their position across the room, Gale and Hope watched the interaction with fond smiles, both happy to see their friends with someone who clearly adored them. But the moment was interrupted when Hugh burst out laughing.

“Well that didn’t stop you from-”

He was cut off when a pillow came sailing into the side of his face, knocking some of his soup onto his pants as the pillow fell to the bed. Hugh’s gaze flicked towards the cot the projectile came from, ready to yell at Hope, but what he wasn’t expecting was her wide eyes as she stared up at Buck in awe.

“Sorry, Charlie,” Buck shrugged. “It just slipped.”

Ruth and Hope broke into chuckles, but John just sent Gale a thankful glance. Bucky then turned his attention to Hugh, and the two pilots glared at each other, John frustrated about the comment, and Hugh still clearly sour over the best man situation. They soon gave up and went back to their soup.

After a few minutes

Once they’d finished their supper, a knock sounded at the door. “Everyone decent in there? Girls?”

Frank.

“Uh, yeah,” John called, lifting an eyebrow at Ruth.

The door swung open and the Captain walked in with his lips in a straight line. “Thought you two’d be in here,” he nodded before turning to Hope. “How’s the leg?”

“I’m okay. Still hurts like a bitch, though.”

“Did you get it checked?”

Her face shifted into a grimace at the question. “I took care of it.”

“You, Hope Armstrong,” he sighed. “Are the reason I drink.”

“You know you love us,” Ruth added, tilting her head with a grin.

Frank’s attention drifted to Ruth’s figure beside John. “And how are you, Ruthie?”

The blonde looked up at John, thinking of how he’d taken care of her throughout the day. “Better now.”

“Alright, enough of the lovey eyes, you two,” he called out to them, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips. “The Angel’s out of commission, and the Grove can’t send anyone tonight with the blackout, so we’re stuck here for the night.”

Both couples perked up at the news, but Hugh just groaned.

“As much as I wish I could make you stay with the Red Cross girls, I know I can’t. So you two,” Frank pointed at Gale and John. “No funny business, okay? None.”

Johnny’s mouth twitched, almost quirking into a smirk, but he was able to hold it in as Buck replied with a “Yes sir.”

“Zero funny business,” Bucky fake saluted from his bunk.

Running a hand down his tired face, Frank scratched his mustache. “Hugh, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on them.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Frank disappeared, the door closed behind him with a slam, and they all visibly relaxed. Hope moved to shuffle back onto the bed beside Gale, the wave of nausea having passed when the door flew open again.

A cool breeze filled the hut as five men strolled into the hut, apparently oblivious of the girls until the one at the front of the column spoke up.

“Would you look at that? Major ‘no girls in the hut’ Cleven has a girl on his bed,” he pointed at Hope before the man behind him tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn and notice Ruth. “And Egan, too. Christ, I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t joined in.”

Gale sighed, standing up and placing his hand on Hope’s shoulder, “Hope, Ruth, these are the boys.” Buck took a breath to introduce them, but John beat him to it.

“DEMARCO,” John hollered, causing Gale to groan at his friend’s childish antics.

Demarco just smiled, “Egan,” he greeted him before motioning towards Ruth, “How did you manage to snag yourself such an attractive broad?”

Ruth blushed under the other man’s gaze but John just chuckled beside her, “Must be my endless charm.”

“Sure thing, Major,” Demarco snorted, his voice lowering to a whisper as he glanced down at Ruth, “Blink twice if you need help.”

With a shove from John, Benny laughed turning his attention back to Hope and Gale, while Bubbles moved over to greet Ruth, having already met him earlier that day.

“And you must be the lovely Hope that Meatballs told me about. He’s taken a shine to you,” Demarco motioned towards Gale, “Shame this one keeps third-wheeling your dates.

Hope giggled, turning her head to look at Gale who is now leaning against the headboard, “You may have some competition, Major.”

Gale hummed in amusement, “How am I supposed to compete with his charming personality.” As if the husky knew they were talking about him, he let out a low groan, stretching out across Gale’s bed.

An argument had broken out between John and Jack regarding a certain jeep that Gale and Hope had yet to hear about. Hope shuffled up the bed, wincing as the stitches pulled.

“Are you okay?” Gale’s hands came to rest on her hip, as he watched her worriedly. His bright eyes widened slightly as he noticed Hope’s lip quivering before she replied.

“Yeah, just sore. I need to change my bandage, it’s oozing through…” Before Hope could finish her sentence, Gale’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, noticing the blood leaking through the bandage.

“Hope…” he whispered under his breath, his forehead creasing as he lowered his head to look closer at the wound, but she swatted him away.

“Gale, I’m fine,” she sent him a weak smile, her hand coming to rest of his cheek and she stroked it slowly. “I’m okay. I just need to change the dressing.”

Gale nodded slowly, helping Hope move off the bed and to the back of the hut where they could have a little more privacy, while John continued to bicker with his fellow pilots.

Gale sat her down on a chair, facing away from the other men before he pushed the shirt up to expose her thighs. He unwound the dressing, exposing the rudimentary sutured wound. It was red and angry and hot to the touch.

“Hope, this might be infected. I think I’m the morning before you head back to Berkshire we should head to the infirmary.” Hope raised her eyebrow, giving him a doubtful look to which he shook his head, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hope sighed, leaning back in the chair as Gale worked to clean gently around the wound, using the gauze to wipe away the blood. Hope didn’t particularly like the way the wound looked either and even she would admit that she at least needed some penicillin.

“Alright,” she replied reluctantly and Gale chortled.

“This must be the first time you haven’t argued about something, you must be feeling unwell,” Gale whimpered as she smacked him lightly on the head, unamused by his comment.

“Just get to work, Doctor Cleven. I wanna go to bed.”

Something in Gale’s eyes changed at that comment, his eyes normally as clear as a summer's sky, seemed dark and stormy.

“Doctor Cleven, I could get used to that.” Hope hummed in appreciation as Gale’s lips met her thigh, just below where the shrapnel had hit. His warm hands massaged the rigid muscles in the hope of releasing some of the tension of the day.

“Don’t get too used to it,” Hope mumbled, running her fingers through Gale’s blonde locks, “You’ll always be Major Cleven to me. Well, unless you change careers or something.” Hope thought for a moment, “Hmm Doctor Cleven, Major Cleven… Professor Cleven has a ring to it.”

“Professor, huh,” Gale smiled, the grin nearly reaching his eyes. “I see you’ve got it all planned out, Nurse Armstrong.”

Gale made a surprisingly good nurse and he soon had a fresh bandage wrapped neatly around Hope’s leg. He even went as far as to check the tension, as he’d seen Hope go so many times with wounded soldiers.

In the time it took Gale to redress Hope’s leg, Ruth and John had disappeared outside, Hugh was lounging across his cot chatting to Bubbles and Veal. Kidd had given up arguing with John and was reading John’s battered copy of ‘Guys and Dolls’, as for Meatball, he’d finally moved over to Demarco’s bed, lounging across the cover while Benny was on his hands and knees, rummaging beneath the cot.

"Hey, where's my pillow?" Benny asked, his eyes scanning the surrounding beds with a creased brow.

“Here!” Hugh launched the pillow across the room, smacking Demarco square in the face.

“What the hell was that for?” Benny went to stand but Gale pushed him backwards onto his cot.

“Now, now boys, we’ve got female guests. Let’s not get too rowdy tonight, alright?” A few silent nods seemed to satisfy Gale and Hope couldn’t help the amused smirk she sent his way. The Air Force hadn’t just given Gale friends, but an unruly group of men who acted like teenage boys and who Gale had become the adopted father of.

Hope slipped under the sheets, sighing as the thin mattress sunk under her weight. Gale slipped in beside her, careful to avoid knocking her injured leg, and his left instinctively found its home on her waist, while he used his other arm to prop himself up, running his fingers soothingly through her brown locks.

“Today was a good day,” Hope mumbled, her voice muffled with sleep, as she fought to keep her eyes open.

“A good day? Hope you could have… I could have…” Gale’s voice thick with emotion as he tried to find the words he wanted. Hope rolled over to face him, glancing up at his crumpled features. He looked utterly broken and a silent sob left his lips before the tears began to fall.

“Oh Gale,” Hope reached up, gripping onto Gale and pulling him against her chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Her fingers danced up and down his spine, as he sobbed into the crook of her neck, allowing the emotions he’d been bottling to finally release.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m okay. You’ve got me,” Hope kept repeating like a mantra for both of them. They were both okay.

Gale pulled away, a teardrop hanging off the end of his nose as he spoke, “I love you so much, Hope. I don’t know what I’d do if… if…”

“Shh Gale, please don’t cry. It’s okay. Look,” she placed her left hand above his heart, her engagement ring clearly in view and Gale could himself run his fingers over the small gold ring.

“I still can’t believe you said yes,” he admitted, cupping Hope’s cheek and placing a loving kiss on her lips.

“As if my answer would have been anything other than a yes. I love you, Gale with all my heart.”

Gale pulled Hope down with him, nuzzling into her neck and placing small, chaste kisses along her collarbone.

“Didn’t think our first time in bed together would be quite like this,” he mused, kissing Hope’s forehead.

“No, neither did I,” Hope laughed, “In fact, I had a very different image.” Hope began to speak again when Hugh called out.

“Hey, no funny business, Cleven. You hear what Frank said and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”

Gale sighed and went to reply but Hope interrupted him, peaking out above Gale’s shoulder, “Hugh, would you give it a rest, just for one goddamn night. Please.”

Hugh raised his hands in surrender, turning back to his conversation with Bubbles. Gale smiled in awe at Hope’s ability to shut Hugh up.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Gale placed another kiss on Hope’s forehead, pulling her closer to his body as they both drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @blueberry-ovaries

[3minsover]

AUgust Day 28:

loose 27 dresses au - perpetually single steve has been a groomsman more times than he can remember. school friends, college pals, colleagues, family members, they all want him. after having attended 3 weddings in a day, watching couple after couple profess their everlasting love for each other, steve decides to head to a bar, and get DRUNK.

there, he meets eddie: charming, sexy, quick-witted and more than a match as a drinking companion. the night passes in shades of beer, whisky and tequila, and as they talk, steve shares his honestly ridiculous wedding stats. eddie is fascinated, encourages steve to talk more, to send him photos of each wedding he’s been part of this year; steve thinks he’s met the One.

over the next few weeks, they date, and steve feels himself falling, finally. until an article pops up in his favorite magazine, written by a columnist that had usually, until now, remained anonymous. it’s simply titled:

Always the Groomsman, Never the Groom: Are Some People Just Not Meant For a Happy Ending?

written by eddie munson.

steve manages to read the first paragraph before he starts feeling sick. he can’t believe that eddie, sweet, lovely, kind eddie, could have used him like this, could have published it. steve feels himself blushing furiously as he stashes the magazine in his bag and heads straight for eddie’s apartment. he paces outside for a full minute before knocking, and then holds up the page in the magazine accusatorially. eddie greets him with a broad smile at first, which dissolves when he spots steve’s tear stained cheeks and distraught expression.

“why would you write this?” steve demands, failing to keep his voice from shaking. eddie’s brow furrows.

“what- what do you mean?”

“not meant for a happy ending?” steve quotes, throat thick. it’s embarrassing to even say the words aloud, let alone to the person who wrote them, about him. steve’s grip on the magazine trembles as he clutches at his nerve.

“steve,” eddie starts slowly. he swallows hard. “steve, did you read the whole thing?”

“don’t think i needed to, did i? i think it was perfectly clear what you were getting at.” steve stares at the floor between their feet, betrayed, heartbroken, lost.

eddie carefully takes the magazine from him and begins to speak, eyes flicking up nervously every couple seconds.

“so no, i don’t think everyone is meant to have a happy ending. but i do think everyone deserves one. and no one as much as steve. i just hope, and maybe it’s a wild dream to have, but i hope i can be the one to give him that.” eddie winces a little as he looks up once more, meeting steve’s watery gaze. “i should have told you i was writing that story. i’m sorry.”

steve snatches the magazine back, hardly daring to believe eddie’s words unless he sees them printed in black and white.

and there they are.

“i thought you were- i thought i- oh my god.” steve tips forward, gripping the magazine in one hand and the front of eddie’s shirt in the other. “did you mean it?” eddie smiles softly, cupping steve’s cheeks in both palms.

“course i did, stevie. you deserve it. and i wanna be the one to give it to you, if you’ll have me.”

steve can’t prevent the giddy chuckle that escapes his throat. all the heartbreak is but a memory, fading into insignificance against the brilliant light of his happy ending, growing brighter by the second.

“promise you won’t write anything else about me without my knowledge?” he asks, arching one brow. eddie guides steve’s face closer to his own, until their lips are almost brushing.

“i promise. with one exception, yknow, once we’re at that point. i’m gonna keep my vows a secret.”

and that’s an exception steve is more than happy to make.

[jrob64]

Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story

For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.

Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.

This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 7754

ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN

Story begins under the cut

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Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”

Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.

Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.

After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.

She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.

The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.

Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.

It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.

Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.

Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.

She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.

‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.

Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.

She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”

“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.

“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.

“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”

“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.

“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”

Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”

His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.

Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”

“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”

“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”

David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”

“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”

David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.

“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”

“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”

Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.

David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”

The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”

“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”

“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.

He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.

“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.

“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.

Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”

As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.

As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”

“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.

“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.

Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.

“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”

He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”

David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”

“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.

Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”

Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.

“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”

“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”

“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.

While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”

Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”

“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”

She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.

“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”

“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”

David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”

“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.

“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”

“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”

“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”

“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”

“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.

Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”

“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”

Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”

“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.

Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.

Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.

“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.

Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.

Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.

�� Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.

Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.

David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.

“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”

“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.

Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”

“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.

“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”

“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”

Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”

After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.

She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’

She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.

Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.

When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.

“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”

“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.

A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.

“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”

Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”

She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”

“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”

“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”

“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”

“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.

Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.

She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.

“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.

The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.

“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”

“But Mommmm…” he whined.

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.

“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”

“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”

Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”

David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.

“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.

“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.

“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”

“None of them will be as good as Norman.”

Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”

Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.

“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.

“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.

“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.

Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”

“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.

“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.

All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.

Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”

“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”

Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”

Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.

Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”

“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”

Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”

Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”

Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”

“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.

“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”

“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”

“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.

“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.

“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”

As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”

Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.

After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”

“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.

“How long have you known him?”

“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.

Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.

“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”

“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.

“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”

She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.

“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”

“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”

Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”

“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”

“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”

“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”

“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”

“Ouch,” Emma commented.

“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”

“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.

“Deal.”

“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”

“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”

“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”

“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”

“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”

“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”

“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”

“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.

“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.

“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”

Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.

“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”

“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.

“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.

“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.

“He has his moments.”

They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.

The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.

Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”

“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.

“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”

“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”

“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”

“Aye, if I decide to stay.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”

“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”

“Ernie?” Killian questioned.

“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”

“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”

“They seem to really like each other.”

“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”

“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.

Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”

They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.

While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.

“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.

“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”

After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.

“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”

“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”

They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.

He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”

A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.

The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.

Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”

“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”

“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.

Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”

“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.

Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.

“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.

“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.

Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”

Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”

Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”

Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”

Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”

“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”

Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”

“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”

Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.

When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.

Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.

Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.

Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.

Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

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[judysxnd]

I love your work! can you do an imagine where you and pedro bring your baby to the last of us set to meet bella

I think it kind of this the second part of the first pregnancy imagine I wrote, when they announce the pregnancy to Bella. I also wanted to do a big reveal like choose a name for the baby that connected with people Pedro knows or something, but I really couldn’t decide, so, I let this part to you. I feel like Pedro would for the tradition of having a few names. I hesitated to add the Balmaceda, but I think since there’s also the reader’s last name, it would be the reader’s and Pedro’s main so Pascal.

B/n = baby’s name

B/m/n = baby’s middle name

Y/l/n = your last name

It’s not my best, I have been trying to write this one for two days. I’ll go with that, since I know I won’t do better. I have a lot of ideas on my own coming, can’t wait to publish them!! But thank you, and I hope you will enjoy it :)

——————————————————————————————

After finding out you were pregnant, your life started to change, obviously. You were having a baby, you needed to prepare yourself for it. Pedro got extremely excited and you had to stop him from buying a crib, clothes, lots other stuff as you were only two months pregnant. He managed to wait until you were six months pregnant to buy everything.

You both didn’t want to know the gender of the baby, keeping the surprise till the very end, but during one of your ultrasounds, it was unintentionally revealed. From the position the baby was, you saw that it was a boy.

When you were due, the mini Pedro didn’t want to get out, and was two weeks late. Thankfully, everything was fine, giving birth happened to be quite fast actually. The baby didn’t want to get out, but once he decided he was, he was fast. Thinking about it makes you laugh. He wasn’t even born yet that he already was like his father. Once he had something in mind, nothing else mattered, he was getting it. You also saw it when you tried to put him in bed. If he didn’t want to, you would, for sure, know it. Or, if he wanted Pedro, it was very clear. He was only a few months old but already had a strong personality.

After giving birth in august, since Pedro’s schedule coincided, he was able to be here for the first months. But in January, he had to start filming The Last of Us. As you didn’t get the chance to see Bella and introduce them to the baby, you both decided to go on set together. Also, Pedro wanted so badly to show Bella the baby, that you couldn’t say no. Since filming was firstly set in LA, Pedro didn’t have to leave.

So on Monday’s morning, instead of going alone to work, Pedro left home with you and the baby. You arrived pretty early, it was not even 9am, because Pedro had to make some last check ups with the crew and all. While he was doing that, you stayed with him, checking if the baby was still, asleep, taking care of him if needed. Everyone was in awe when they saw your beautiful baby boy. Pedro’s never been prouder. He was a real daddy this time.

It was almost 10am when Pedro was almost ready to film, and Bella arrived. You were holding your baby, as he started to cry a little. He doesn’t really like staying still when he is not in his bed. The door opened and Bella appeared. They suddenly stopped when they realized that you were here with your baby. Their eyes widened.

“Oh my god! Congratulations!” They said running to you. “Show him!!” You turned a little, so that the baby was facing Bella. “Oh wow! He is cuter in real life” they said smiling. Pedro had sent them quite an amount of pictures since the baby was born.

“Thank you” you said, looking at how Bella was excited. Pedro was watching the scene from afar, just love in his eyes.

“Do you want to hold him?” Pedro asked, still in his chair.

“Can I?” Bella asked you

“Of course!” You smiled, moving your arms so that you could place the baby in Bella’s arms. “I have been carrying him for the past thrifty minutes, I am not going to say no to this opportunity” you joked

“He is so cute” they said, started to walk around. You sat on the couch that was next to the door, watching the scene. “How old is he now?”

“5 months” Pedro answered

“But he already wears at least 8months clothes” you added, which made Bella laugh.

“Big baby boy” Pedro said, getting up and going next to Bella. He looked at his beautiful son, that was falling asleep in Bella’s arms. “He is falling asleep” Pedro said looking at you

“Seriously? He doesn’t want to sleep in my arms, but he does with the first person he meets” you laughed. Pedro sat next to you. “I am going to hire you”

“Any time, but you better pay well” Bella joked. “You never told me his name” they started to whisper as the baby was fully asleep now. You and Pedro looked at each other smiling.

“Go ahead” you said to Pedro.

“His name is b/n b/m/n y/l/n Pascal”

“Oh so beautiful! I feel like it matches with him” Bella teased about his already strong personality. Pedro was talking with them a lot, so they knew how he was not sleeping much, how he behaved and all.

“Yeah it does” you joked

Bella had to get ready to film, Pedro was about to start to, and b/n woke up and was getting angry, so you decided to head home and let them work in peace. Anytime he got the chance, Pedro texted you to check up on you and the baby. You could see it was hard for him to go back to work. But you’ll make it work.

[nhularin]

oh my, oh my god!

PAIRING sunoo x reader GENRE highschool AU, secret relationship, fluff WARNINGS none..lets just pretend that they had imessage back in the day 😭 WC 0.8k

series masterlist

August 26, 1998

High school, a place filled with unattainable teenage dreams, fluttering hearts, and rollercoasters of emotions.

the day had started like no other, sunoo arrived at your house at exactly 7:25 am with your favorite breakfast in the passenger seat and grumpy and childish good mornings and kisses coming your way

hes so not a morning person

sunoo would surprise you with small gestures, leaving cheesy notes written messily on top of love filled doodles in your locker, slipping your favorite snack into your bag, or lending a listening ear when you needed to vent about someone in your club

in classes, sunoos eyes would seek yours across the room, menacingly annoying you with things to keep your attention to him. though you never dare to miss the looks of adoration in his eyes. A discreet, gentle brush of his fingertips against the back of your hand as he handed you a pencil, feelings of warmth and assurance through your shared moments of learning.

amidst crowded hallways and hushed whispers, your secret relationship went unnoticed by the rest. you became masters of secrecy (thats what you claim), your stolen moments filled with giggles and butterflies

both of you didnt mean to keep your relationship a secret, but with rumors and gossip sites spreading like wildfire, you both decided that you didnt want to go through the hassle of it all, given your respective reputations. the model student class president with the grade's troublemaker? thats a headline for sure

the school library, a haven of peace and quiet, became your favorite hiding spot. among stacks of books and dim lights, you would steal fleeting kisses and share lighthearted bickering, wrapped in the cozy scent of old pages and young love.

"you know" you started as you unwrapped your candy packet "my friends have been getting quite suspicious about me having a boyfriend"

sunoo only raised his eyebrow "is that so" he hadn't been subtle the last few weeks so he couldn't blame them

" yeah, they think that im dating kim taerae from class 3" a giggle left your mouth when the boy next to you let out a dramatic gasp "how dare they" but you only shrugged and kissed him

the afternoons were usually yours, after class sunoo would walk you to your locker, his touch grazing yours in a subtle yet comforting way

but today, as the final bell rang, you found yourself joining your friends in the library to prepare for an upcoming exam which you were NOT prepared for in the slightest. you didnt think much about it but you knew questions burned within them, their menacing minds yearning to know about the mysterious boy that had stolen their poor friend's heart and time

"so" danielle leaned in, curiosity shining in her eyes, her textbook long forgotten on the desk with a random page opened for faux productivity "spill the beans, who is he!"

you arched an eyebrow, pretending to focus on your notes " i have no idea what you're talking about"

hyein groaned, eyes sparkling with curiosity "hey come on! we saw you being all giddy and cute with someone in front of the broadcasting room! You've been keeping this secret boyfriend of yours under wraps for way too long. we're not idiots y'know"

you sighed, realizing that its pointless to keep anything from your nosy friends. you found it amusing how they all looked like puppies waiting for their owner to give orders to them "he's just... someone special, thats it"

as you all attempted to study, the questions became more persistent, but you skillfully deflected their curiosity, finding amusement at their frustration. the library served as a backdrop for your failed attempts at productive studying, as laughter and whispered conversations replaced quiet shuffling of papers

hours passed, and as the sun began to sink, signaling the end of your study session, you bid your friends farewell.

"this is not the end!" hanni yelled out

With a cheeky smile and a wink, you waved at her.

when the coast was clear, you silently typed out a text message to your lover boy

as you pressed send, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and contentment. you knew her friends wouldn't give up on their quest to uncover your love life, but for now, kim sunoo remained your cherished secret, a mystery hidden from prying eyes

[devilsjacket]

opinions/ headcannons on the idea of wilhelm with another boy that’s also really in the spotlight and like has famous parents or somethin? idk, you don’t have to do this, have a lovely day <3 🫶🏻

I love this idea anon! Thank you for taking the time to request and I hope you like it!

Wilhelm x famous!reader headcanons

warning(s): n/a

You were quite popular at Hillerska, your family was well known for their riches and snobbery however people were surprised that you weren’t the same

You were kind and respectful, not making fun of anyone lesser than you

Wille took a liking to you more so than August, someone you spoke regularly to, or well it was more like he bothered you as opposed to you willingly talking to him.

You were always interested in Wilhelm, you had seen him on tv and thought he was pretty alright

Wille was the one who had initiated your conversation whilst you two had breakfast

“Hi, I uh, I’m Wille” Wilhelm awkwardly smiled as he watched you play with your food, not looking interested in it. You looked at him brush some hair from his face and smiled “ah, I know, I’m Y/n”

The conversation went pretty smoothly and you both ended up talking about things you liked, Wille found out you liked to playing games, something he hasn’t done before

“You’ve not played video games?! Not even one?!” You stared at him as if he had just said something outrageous; blasphemous even. Wille just shrugged and shook his head.

That’s how you two ended up in your dorm playing call of duty for the last hour, accidentally missing rowing practice and earning a harsh scold from August

You and Wille only grew closer, sneaking off school grounds to wander around Bjärstad, an area you both never saw much of.

Girls came up to you two and you politely took a few pictures with them, they tried to get Wilhelm to do so as well but you said he wasn’t in the mood after noticing his nervousness. He thanked you for that.

When you two got back to Hillerska, sneaking in through the open window to your dorm that’s when you both could feel a tightness in your chests. It was weird but- a good weird you know? You had offered Wille to stay and hang out for longer which he accepted a little too quickly.

“Cool- uh the bed is a bit small but we could both fit if we-” you tilted your head whilst looking at your bed “if we squeeze together I guess” you shrugged kicking off your shoes and not seeing the redness of Wille’s face due to the dark.

It was a nice sleep you two had, both cuddling, warm skin touching and sending shocks through both of you. Wille had rested his head on your chest mumbling something incoherent before falling into a peaceful sleep.

When it was morning Wille was already awake, fingertips tracing the faint abs on your stomach that became more apparent when you exhaled, he got all embarrassed when he saw you smiling, eyes slowly opening and meeting the morning sun that peeked through the curtains.

“Morning” you whispered cringing as your breath met with your nose, you hated morning breath. Wilhelm smiled and propped himself up on his elbow “good morning”

You moved your head groaning lightly, yeah Wille’s morning breath was worse “god your breath stinks!” You half laughed as your nose wrinkled. Wille only hummed and as soon as your head turned back, blew into your face, his disgusting breath burning your nostrils.

You gaged and wrestled with him until you landed between his legs, hand over his mouth to prevent his breath from attacking you again.

Upon realising your position you both turned red and you slowly moved your hand, despite his horrible breath you felt like kissing Wilhelm, nose brushing against his when you leaned closer.

But before you could there was a knock at your door, it was Alexander letting you both know what the time was, you looked over your shoulder and yelled a thanks hearing his footsteps fade into the distance afterwards.

You rolled off Wille and watched him lean over to you for a kiss but you dodged making him confused “brush your teeth first then kiss me” you said smiling, he nodded and rushed to his own dorm as if he was in a mission.

You in the meantime got ready and brushed your own teeth, making sure it was minty fresh for when Wille came back.

You and Wille had sorted out your relationship after a long afternoon of making out and softly touching each others flushed skin. You decided upon taking things slow, keeping it under wraps until Wille was ready to go public

Now in a relationship you needed to shake off the girls that wouldn’t stop asking you out, they knew what their answer would be but they still tried and tired.

There were lots of perks to yours and Wille’s relationship, one being that due to your popularity you could understand where he was coming from with his anxiety and stuff.

You knew how to calm him down and comfort him in the way he wanted, physical touch was an important thing to Wilhelm so you knew holding him would help a lot

And if you ever got anxious due to all the popularity Wille would be more than happy to push those people away and hold your hand to keep you grounded, even in public.

A/n: Should I make a part two since there’s a lot more I can write on this!

[jo-harrington]

Dearest, wonderfulst of them all. I'm coming in here with a monster tucked under my arm.

The Manticore. Please. It's one of my favourite beasts.

<3 <3 <3 for you.

Somna!!! Ok this one I was noodling for a while because I was like “ok. Ren faire ren faire ren faire.” And it was gonna be really special and a little grandiose (I was feeling a type of way with the end of summer.)

But the thing about Eddie and this OC (or Reader character if you’re not reading the series) is that they find heaven in the most simple places together. They find it in each other.

So I hope you enjoy this one. It's not big angsty, it's just a little soft silly thing. Big kisses for you my love.

Find Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

August 1984

“So what are we looking for again?”

“Rick's birthday is coming up so anything Green Bay Packers—”

“Ew.”

“—and maybe some flannels for Wayne. How about you?”

“Maybe some books. Some records for the both of us?"

"No Van Halen though."

"I swear to God," you muttered under your breath. "I mention them one time."

"Hot for Teacher is a bullshit song and you know it," Eddie grinned mischievously as he slammed the door of the van shut.

He knew just what it took to get under your skin sometimes; pick at the tiniest throwaway thing you'd say and turn it into a whole to-do. Keep pushing and pushing until you tried to tell him off because then he'd get to emphasize "but you love me" until your hard stare turned soft and you'd agree because...you did.

You did love him. Loved him for all the good things and the bad; loved him because he was an idiot.

He was your idiot. Proudly.

Today, though, was not about mischief.

You were both on a mission.

You'd driven all the way up to Fort Wayne for the Allen County Flea Market at the Fairgrounds. It was a once-a-month event where hundred of people brought their prized possessions, their antiques, and their trash to try and offload it for as much cash as possible. And he had plenty to spare, after he'd made his appearance at all of the end-of-summer parties that had been thrown by everyone of college-going-age in the tri-county area.

So why not have a little day out, treat the most important people in his life to something nice, if...a little worn. Worn was ok.

He was a little worn too. So were you. And Wayne and Rick. His friends. He'd never felt such a sense of belonging as he did with all of you. All sorts of pieces that seemingly didn't fit together or belong...that had been patched together to create something epic. Unstoppable.

His family.

After perusing a few booths together, you parted ways to hunt for your own treasures, and he greedily accepted the soft farewell kisses you pressed to his lips.

One, and then another for the road, and a third for good luck.

He prompted it, but it was typically your saying as you stole a few smooches before you left him for the night or for work, and hearing him say it made you beam brightly.

It made him glow from deep within.

Once you were out of sight, he clapped his hands and let destiny take him where it would.

Got a couple things for himself and Wayne, enough that he could convince his uncle that they didn't need to go back to school shopping for much of anything outside of the obvious pens, pencils, and notebooks from Kmart. No new shoes or shirts.

He could keep the that overtime pay from the plant tucked away for a rainy day, or maybe fix the heater on his car that he'd been hemming and hawing about since February.

He even found Wayne a sturdy denim jacket with a suede collar that, he was sure, would be perfect once the cool weather rolled in.

He got Rick's birthday gift and continued to peruse the booths along his path, finding a few useful items along the way: a coil of guitar strings still in the packaging, a set of cooking knives that might have been chipped and dull but still probably more useful to cut vegetables with than the set of steak knives that were tucked away in a kitchen drawer back home, and a plan black sweatshirt with some moth holes that could, realistically, be saved by some strategically placed band patches.

He had been contemplating whether he was willing to endure your wrath if he surprised you with a copy of Women and Children First from a pile of old vinyls--

A grander gesture would be to convince the guys to add Could This Be Magic to the setlist of Corroded Coffin 2.0's first outing at the Hideout. Jeff could test his mettle on acoustic and Eddie could dedicate the song to you.

--when he found the jackpot.

It was a dusty book with worn edges, title on the front cover printed in a heavy gothic script and embossed with gold foil.

A Modern Bestiary for the 20th Century by Professor Hellen Magnus and Doctor Pellinore Warthrop

Eddie's hand shot to it immediately, intrigued, and he spent a good few minutes flipping through the pages. He vibrated as he went page by page, eyes scanning over one creature or another.

Harpies and gargoyles and sea serpents.

He thought of all the Hellfire sessions that would benefit from this book. It really felt like an ancient tome with all of the scientific diagrams and breakdowns of each creature's skeleton, brief summaries of associated myths, and place of origin. References to other books that he made a mental note to ask about at the library.

And then, right in the center of the book, there was a fold out spread that featured a full color illustration of a Manticore.

His favorite.

He'd seen it in a book about heraldry once upon a time when he created a Munson Family Crest for the Middle Ages unit in 6th Grade History. And he'd been obsessed ever since.

The ultimate protector and most dangerous foe with the head of a human and the body of a lion, and a venomous scorpion tail. Symbolizing undefinable strength and power. So it was funny, how he had been thinking of the way his family was patched together earlier when this was waiting for him just hours ahead.

Fate was funny that way.

And funnier still...when he drew his eyes across the page once again and saw, scribbled in the corner in...colored pencil or crayon...he couldn't say for sure...was your name.

"No..." he squinted and pulled the page closer to his face. "Can't be."

It was a child's handwriting for sure, wobbly and unsure, but that was you.

For a second, Eddie didn't even...consider the implications of this being your book or how the book ending up here of all places. Stranger things had happened. Fate worked inn mysterious ways and all that.

He just felt...triumphant.

"Finally I'll get a leg up on you sweetheart," he said as he dug into his pockets for the cash to buy the book. "No more telling me about mysterious monsters and creatures. I'll know more than you soon enough."

You found Eddie sitting in the back of the van after you finished your shopping, the tote bag that you had the foresight to bring with you overflowing with books and records and even a rolled up poster that you were sure he'd like for his bedroom. His legs were crossed and he was flipping through the pages of a book that vaguely looked familiar to you.

"So, success?" you began to announce your presence. Eddie jumped a bit, startled and he shoved the book off to the side. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. "What? Is that like...some like...weird book with sex positions in it or something? Studying to surprise me later or..."

"No! Well...studying yes, but not...I mean if you wanna..." he trailed off and raised his eyebrows suggestively. You slapped the back of your hand against his arm and laughed. "No, it's just this really interesting book I found. I'll tell you all about it on the drive back."

"Ok," you marveled at his enthusiasm. "I can't wait to hear all about it."

You dumped your bags in the back and slammed the doors shut as Eddie did his typical gentleman's act by racing around to open the passenger's door for you.

He bowed deeply and kissed the back of your hand, luxuriating in your giggles.

You wouldn't be laughing for long.

Once he was settled behind the wheel and he was sure of the directions back to Hawkins, he got the most devious look on his face. Positively devilish. His head dropped lazily to his shoulder and he dragged his eyes from the road to look at you.

"So, sweetheart, angel, cheese on my burger, love of my life," he buttered you up. "Tell me what you know...about The Manticore."

[wrengrif]

Are we ready? It's Time...

For more GOOD OMENS WILD META.

I have been chewing on this one for awhile. Like, really ruminating on it. Probably because it's so far-reaching. For me, for others. It's a matter of the Journey From The Final Fifteen.

I will openly admit it, when I first came off the Final Fifteen, sometime in August/September (yeah, I was so worried about Season 2 I didn't watch it for a month after it came out and I realized I was right to do so.). I was, and still am, heartbroken. I was angry, despairing and wondering what the point of an ending like that was. I was angry at Neil Gaiman, I was angry at all the creators behind Good Omens. I was angry at Aziraphale, first, and then after about five minutes, I was angry at Crowley too.

Note, I was never mad at David Tennant or Michael Sheen. I respected their acting choices so much in the Final Fifteen. It was beautiful. It ripped my soul out through my chest. They are both brilliant. I know everyone has their favorite GO counterparts - they are mine.

Then a funny thing happened. A few weeks passed. I started fumbling around Good Omens Tumblr again. I'd been a big contributor during Detroit: Become Human (of which I am still a HUGE FAN, god I love that game.), and until Good Omens 2 came out, I was on the side of Good Omens fandom. Reading, mostly, but at the time I was very deep into my Wangxian fixation (haaaaah, I say, like I have ever left it. My dream AU is Aziraphale and Crowley in the Sunshot Campaign, causing trouble with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.). That changed after Final Fifteen. Now I was hurt, I was looking for comfort. I was looking for my fellow fans.

Clearly, I found you, you gorgeous bastards (saying nothing about your moms, unless you want me to). I started to read more meta, started having my own thoughts and carefully posting them. Reading fanfiction, and ... becoming less angry. Stepping back, to really look at the story. I was swallowing content like Aziraphale swallowed ox ribs. In the midst of this, I realized this wasn't The End of Good Omens, but merely the second part of a Trilogy. I'm a writer, I know what the second part of a trilogy is. It's where your heart breaks, it's the cliffhanger episode. I stopped being mad, and started loving the craft. I started to actually look at the scenes instead of just watching.

With that, I started to realize I had been missing so much. I realized I had been wrong, about a lot of things. My perspectives, and thoughts changed. Aziraphale wasn't at fault, he was a victim of the situation as much as Crowley was. Crowley left the bookshop, but he never left Aziraphale. He waited. He's still waiting. As more time passed, the more my thoughts evolved. Changed, formed anew, and I felt better for it. I decided to be hopeful about the whole thing. Yes, it was bad now, but there were enough signs and easter eggs to say this wasn't the ending we were going to get.

I healed, in short. I forgave. I'm waiting for our next chapter, because I know this story isn't done, not by a long shot. I'm waiting to see how our heroes will cope.

Rather like, I think, Aziraphale and Crowley will. The initial pain is going to fade, the anger, the feeling of rejection (whereas they will some day realize neither one of them were in fact, rejected.). The longing is going to kick in. They're going to miss one another more than they will ever be angry. There's going to be moments of grace, of forgiveness, partnered with sadness. What I think we forget, sometimes, is that Aziraphale and Crowley are 6000 years old. They've fought before. They'll fight again. With the fullness of time though, they'll come back to one another. They'll talk again.

Right now though, they've had time. Time to hopefully process (I really, really hope Aziraphale has had SOME time to process), time let the anger fade a little. Maybe not enough time - some of us here still need time - but enough to let them wonder ... is it really over? Maybe to realize, no. No it's not.

Time doesn't heal all wounds, but time does allow you to find equilibrium. I hope time will do the same for our angel and our demon. I know time helped me. I hope time will help us all.

[awheckery]

Nola Rose's Big Birthday Poll

This is Nola Rose:

She is my best girl, my babylove, my beloved little butt and my most precious evil eel, and in one week, she will be one year old!

Recently, I ordered her an Embark test, in the hopes of one day reuniting her with one of her siblings or other family members, and to maybe get an idea of what other health problems I could expect in the future.

I was not expecting any surprises on the breed front, because the rescue had Nola's original paperwork from her "breeders," indicating her mama was a brown Cocker Spaniel named Spruce, and her daddy was a registered blenheim Cavalier King Charles named Fellow. AND YET.

...and 7.2% something I did not expect at all. Full honesty, I don't see it, but maybe it explains a few things about her?

ANYWAY. For Nola's impending birthday, I thought it might be fun to survey other people, to see their best guesses at the third breed in Nola's genetic cocktail. I've pulled all poll options from an article on the most common breeds for Cavalier crosses, and additional photos and possible clues to her ancestry below the read more.

Starting from the top, BABY PHOTOS, of Nola Rose and the two sisters the rescue picked up from the puppy mill auction.

That photo of Nola on the left was the photo in her Petfinder listing, the one I saw by accident in the middle of the night that made me fall in love with her immediately. I honestly have no idea how she was the last of her siblings left to be adopted, but I will never not be desperately grateful.

Maybe it was because she had the dramatic eyebrows and mutton chops of a civil war general, I can't say. In more recent photos, you can see that the eyebrows and bushy cheeks have subsided, but the insanely luxurious eyelashes remain.

Her color has darkened immensely since I brought her home in August. She used to be a much lighter sable, and fully blonde on the top of her head.

Speaking of which, sable isn't a breed standard color in either Cavaliers or Cockers, and her ridiculously long chin beard (which you won't see in any of her photos because I have her groomer trim it off) doesn't appear in those breeds either. Coincidence?

At just shy of a year, she's hopefully maxed out at 18 pounds, and she's unbelievably leggy, with an outrageously long body and the deep chest of a racing dog. (She's also fast as hell, good god.)

Her fur is unbelievably silky, save for a coarser ruff over her shoulders and trailing down her spine, and her cocker-fluff booty feathers. Her back end was trimmed down substantially before the above photo. Her tail might be the softest part of her, and I love how it's both silky and curly.

Behaviorally... she's. Something.

Nola has the strongest prey drive of any dog I've ever met, including that time we babysat a rat terrier mix named Ella The Killer. Nola's little heart is so full of murder that I have to close curtains so she won't hurt herself trying to break through the windows to get at bunnies. She is a grand champion at "breaking the necks" of her toys by way of viciously shaking them.

Nola likes to burrow! She tunnels under blankets, rugs and throw pillows, and her favorite way to sit On A People is between our legs when we're in recliners. She likes to feel confined. She also deeply enjoys being held, and she asks to be picked up by my father at least once a day, even tho she's perfectly capable of jumping into his lap by herself now.

She LOVES to lie in the sun until her little body is radioactively hot and her mouth smells like hot rotting garbage, which is actually extremely weird, because she's our second sable dog in a row to have solar-powered halitosis and I'm not above begging people for answers. If you have a dog that has especially stinky breath after they've been in the sun, indoors or out, please talk to me because I'm dying for answers.

Ahem. What else.

Nola is disturbingly smart, and has no concept of obedience, but an excellent grasp of the concept of naughtiness. She knows exactly which items in the house are Forbidden, and which ones will get our attention the quickest if she takes or otherwise threatens them. She also knows the names of most of her toys and can distinguish between them when she's feeling cooperative.

Her favorite way to wake me up when it's time for work is to jump up on my bed, pounce on me, and oh-so-gently bite the tip of my nose. (I know I shouldn't encourage it but it's so sweet I may die.)

She investigates new people by aggressively sniffing their eyes.

She is my tiny daughter with every disease, but despite her allergies, and her asthma, and her megaesophagus, and her subluxated hip, she is the happiest, most delightful little being in all the world.

I lov her.

[arueternity]

Vessel HCs

Hello loveies, I thought I would post some of my hc's for Vessel and how he began the Vessel of Sleep... I most likely will be doing this for all of the boys but till then!

Vessel grew up in a fairly decent family, having a very loving mom and a super supportive dad with an older sister, this man had it good. 

Definitely went to college for some type of bachelor's in music,I mean man can sing and create music this well? He’s a musical genius 

Okay enough of the happy things let's get to the sad things

His most heartbreaking moment was when his toxic relationship ended, he was in love and stuck and couldn’t escape even if he wanted to, which he didn’t

She ended it one day when they were driving down the road, causing Vessel to freak out while in the passenger seat, dude lost his shit

He screamed and cried till he went emotionless, just staring at her in anger and hurt before turning his back to her.

Needless to say, after he was dropped off at home, he didn’t come out of his room for a while. 

Oh, but our little Vessel is into some witchcraft and everyone has tried to get their ex back with some type of spell.

Que Vessel going out and researching everything he can to find out ways to get his ex-girlfriend back

Which led him to meeting someone, August, a witch who was in a local small band, loved her tarot readings and Vessel did as well.

He would eventually go as far as trying to get his own, they were very pretty if you wanted to know, they had skulls and skeletons on them

When he was doing his research the boy came across many gods but the one that stuck out to him the most happened to be Sleep, a not well-known god with very few worshippers if any at all. 

Needless to say, Sleep didn’t help him get his ex-girlfriend back, just helped him move on and grow as a person/vessel.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilymicrofics August Prompt 4: Double || 500 words || Read on Ao3 MICROFIC MASTERLIST

Fun little A/N: this was my first go at an 'I Can See You' inspired micro before I got the idea for my last one (which then spiraled out of control and turned into Things That Haven't Happened Yet)

“Hold the lift!” Lily calls as she dashes through the corridor of the Ministry’s third floor. Six months after graduation had found her doing grunt work for the Department of Potion Development and Regulation. A lot of grunt work, which often meant staying late.

A hand slides between the double grates of the lift and obeys, allowing her to slip in. Adrenaline is already running high as her eyes trace the hand up the arm to the shoulder to the chest to the body and she sucks a breath between her teeth.

“Thanks.” Her words come out breathless, stupidly breathless and thank Merlin they’re the only ones in the lift because in response, her Lift Savior has her pressed up against the wall, a strong hand firm but teasing on the small of her back where a sliver of her skin is accessible between her skirt and top, and another one’s cradling the side of her head as his mouth descends on hers, ravenous.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this, Lily Evans and James Potter. There’d been a brief thing at the end of seventh year, secret and heated, that they’d unceremoniously fallen back into one late night a few months after graduation, on a late night much like this. Lily had seen him approaching the lift, Auror training robes hung loosely around his frame, exhaustion apparent on his face, and she had stood next to him in this very box, the space between them crackling with magic and desire and—

A moan rips her out of her reverie—it’s hers, she realizes with a flush of mortification—as James’ lips break from hers to work down her jaw, hands wandering to places they really shouldn’t in the building where they both work.

Mind hazy from the touches, from the kisses, from that bloody talented tongue of his teasing below her ear, her nails scratch lightly through his hair, down his back as she becomes breathless.

“I love these work skirts on you, Evans, gods,” he growls into her ear as his hands roam where the fabric pulls tightly over her arse, and she feels a warmth pool low in her stomach. She captures his lips, and there’s teeth and tongue and rapid breathing as frantic hands roam over such tender, aching parts of one another, frustratingly foiled by the barrier of clothing she’ll spend the rest of her night at home cursing when her body still sings for his undiluted touch.

Only the ding of the lift sees them flying apart, eyes briefly connecting before a hasty straightening of both their clothes readies them to face the real world and watchful eyes on the other side of the doors.

“Evans,” he nods, eyes sparkling, as the grates of the lift open and he walks out.

Lily’s gaze follows him as her heart settles back into a steady rhythm, already planning her day so that tomorrow will be another late night as well, and hoping they’ll be just as lucky.