#my mother’s pesto pasta of course

[pepsinister]

happy eastaturday 😌

lamb & assorted sundries

[theblasianwitch]

So I've been spending the last few monthes reading, watching, walking, and just overall researching foraging safely and the types of plants in my area. Today was the first day with my spouse and son that I was able to identify some plants confidently... so of course with my direction we began foraging.

It saddens me that one of the main motivators for foraging today is knowing that my neighbors and my mother in law would be getting their lawns mowed soon and most of what I gathered today would've been lost. People just don't know what they have.

We pay to remove plants, herbs and even fruits growing naturally in our lawns, only to go buy the same plants from our grocery stores.

Plants found:

Dandelion: the whole plant is edible if you can spot it from its copycat. The leaves can be used the same way as most greens, it's roots when dried can be used to brew Dandelion coffee, and the flowers can be used for tea and to make honey

Chives and Onions: a common herb and garnish its stalks grow back once cut. If left to grow long enough they absorb nutrients better and can produce bigger onions but for now these chives were found before being mowed over and the onions are quite small but very strong and flavorful

Dead nettle: this one was new to me learning about it near the end of winter and seeing the small purple flowers growing. The flowers and leaves droop downward almost making a closed umbrella shape. It can be eaten raw or cooked and is used in salads and smoothies for garnish and flavor. They are high in nutrients and vitamins. Left to grow in the sun the purple turns almost pinkish and the leaves get lighter but still useful

Pine (cones, needles and seeds): I didn't forage the cones or needles today cause I knew I'd be busy, but baby pinecones can be cooked and eaten and the needles when cleaned and placed into an airtight container with water and sugar make a soda. I managed to find a few seeds in some of the fallen cones and saved them to plants in our future home

That's what we foraged. We are waiting for some more plants to develop and managed to convince my mother in law to leave certain sections of the lawn left uncut as some plants are still just starting back. Plants were waiting on are plantains, honeysuckle, and violets. Some plants are still too early to identify.

Using the dandelion greens tonight and making a pesto with some of them combined with the dead nettle and onions to use for a future pasta.

[maxillness]

Dad’s Best Friend || NL1 x Svan!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, age gap, yearning, hand kink, choking kink (if you squint), talk of absent mother, slow burn-ish

Wordcount: 1.7k

Is this the 3rd post in a row with kitchen sex? Yes, but you wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t tell you… right?

Anyways, I don’t know how I managed to write a fic where there’s a 1k words build up. It’s not like me

Also, as I wrote this, I imagined it to be set in 2019 where reader is 19 and Niklas 30, but you can imagine it anywhere between mid-2019 and mid-2023

Tag list: @e-nonsense @babyprofessorsharkpalace

She sat on the couch in her father’s home zapping through channels as her phone rang. It was her father

She picked it up “Hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. So, I’m stuck in traffic, looks like for a while. I called Niklas to cancel, but he said he would come over anyway to cook for you. He should be there in a few. Sara and the kids went to her mothers, so it would just be the two of you for a while, just letting you know” He said before sighing

“What? Where are you stuck?” She scrambled to sit on the couch properly

“7 just by Weding. Seems like there happened some kind of crash” He explained

“Wait. If there was a crash on 7, how would Niklas get here?” Her tone was utterly confused

“He was already in Handewitt when I called him” The second he said so, the front door opened “Is that him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Get home safe. Love you”

“Love you too, pumpkin” She hung up the phone throwing it softly on the couch beside her

“Still calls me ‘pumpkin’” She chuckled walking out to Niklas in the kitchen

“You can’t blame him for loving his daughter” He said as he started looking through the fridge “Lasse said you had the things for pasta with pesto. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you for cooking, by the way” She smiled sitting down on the bar stool at the island counter

“Of course, I know how you are in a kitchen, anyway” He chuckled, kissing the top of her head as he passed her

She knew it was wrong, but she hated he only meant the kiss as a friendly gesture. She had had these feeling for him for a lot of years, but only really accepted them after she turned 18

She hated that she couldn’t act upon her feelings, or her fantasies for that matter. She just had to sit in her apartment alone, yearning for something she couldn’t have

She hated how those pretty, big hands of his couldn’t be on her body. She hated the thought of them being on another woman’s body

She hated if she yearned to feel the way his long fingers would feel inside her, or to feel how they would feel around her throat

God, did she love his hands, and it didn’t help that she was sitting in the kitchen while he cooked. She practically drooled at the sight of him working

“Heard from your mother recently?” His words brought her out of her trance, making her look up at him

“No, not recently. She sent me a card on my 18th. That’s the last I’ve heard from her” She sighed

“Sorry. Must be hard for you” He said, his eyes turning soft as he looked into her eyes

“Not really. I’ve lived so long without her. Why would it be hard?” She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion

“I mean, you’ve watched both Marie and Benjamin grow up with their mother. I guess I just thought you might’ve been jealous of them” He shrugged

“Sara has become like a mother to me too, so not really. I’m glad she came into my father’s life” She explained, her eyes drifting yet again from his eyes to his hands

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him even if she wanted to. She could leave the kitchen, but the thought never crossed her mind. She just kept starring at him

The way his delicate finger wrapped around the knife as he cut up the vegetables for the salat, or the way the muscles in his biceps moved every time he did, it sent her into a daze with filthy fantasies

She lightly blushed every time she had caught herself fantasising, but it didn’t stop her further, but he had caught her blushing a few times, and every time he would ask if she was okay, asking if she had a fever or felt hot in any way

She would always dismiss it, telling him not to worry, but of course he did. He had put his hand up to her forehead, feeling her warmth, but she didn’t feel hot in any way

Of course, this contact between skin-against-skin, only sent her further into lewd thoughts, which crept a blush further down her neck and throat

“You sure you’re alright? You look like you’re coming down with something” She coughed slightly before speaking up

“I’m fine. Really” She looked up into his piercing blue eyes “Is the food done soon?” She asked, wanting to shift her thoughts away before she acted upon them

“Yeah. Give me a second. You can find the plates and utensils” He told her as he went back to look down at the counter

She didn’t really have anymore thoughts while they ate, but they all came rushing back when they had to clean

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he was washing off the dishes. Her thoughts went back to those beautiful hands

“Anything I can help with?” She asked as she stood a good amount of distance behind him

“No. I’ve got everything in order, sweetheart” She held back a whine as she tightly squeezed her thighs together at the way he addressed her

To her dismay, he didn’t notice, or that’s what she thought. She leaned against the counter, pulling her phone out of her pocket, starting to scroll through it

She hadn’t noticed the water being turned off before he had pushed her hands away from each other and turned her chin upwards to look up at him

“You sure you’re okay? You’re body’s all red-ish” She lowly whimpered, hoping to god he didn’t hear it

“Well, you did caught me by surprise” Her eyes were filled with innocence as they stared into each others eyes

“I doubt that’s the reason” Their faces were so close they could feel each others breaths on their faces

“Please” It was barely above a whisper as her eyes drifted from his and down to his lips and back up in a quick motion

Her hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck when their lips connected softly. She hummed softly as his hands went to her waist, pushing her further into the counter

“You’ll… Hurt your… Neck” She said between kisses, realising just how far he had to bend down to match her height

His hands quickly went to the back of her thighs, lifting her quickly up on the counter “Better?” He asked once he had went back to kissing her

“Much” She smiled into the kiss, loving the way his hands felt on her waist, pulling her closer to his body, making her wrap her legs around his hips

Her hands traveled to his waist and under his shirt as the kiss got sloppy and messy. His lips trailed from her lips over her jaw and down her neck

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her sweats, slowly pulling them down to pool at her ankles as well as her panties

She threw her head back with a whimper as he drew a cold finger between her folds. A whine drew from her lips as he grazed her clit

He teased her entrance before pushing knuckle deep into her. After a few thrusts, he added a second finger, drawing out loud moans from her

Her hands had now grabbed the edges of the counter, supporting herself. He had softly started sucking on her skin, leaving light marks behind

“We have to be quick, don’t know when my dad get’s home” Her words were slurred between moans

He curled his fingers upwards once before pulling them out of her, resulting in her whining at the loss of contact

He pulled her off of the counter, kissing her roughly before turning her around and bending her over the counter

She looked over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip slightly when she saw how fast he was working on his belt and zipper

She watched how his pumped himself a few times before lining himself up with her entrance

His hands felt so good around her waist as he slowly pushed himself inside her, drawing out a few whines from her

She turned her head away from him, closing her eyes shut as her head fell forward. Both of them started spilling moans when he slowly started moving inside her

“Faster, please. I’m begging you” He didn’t hesitate to give into her wishes as he started thrusting faster into her

Her moans got louder when he did that spongy spot inside her that made her see stars

“Right there, fuck, don’t stop” Her words were slurred from her heavy breath in between her loud moans

“The whole neighbourhood will be able to hear you if you don’t keep it down” He pressed his chest against her back, his mouth just by her ear

“S’just feels s’good” She tried masking her moans with whispers, but she failed miserably “Y’fuck me s’good” Her throat had started hurting and gotten dry from her moans

The only sounds filling the house was the sounds of their skin-against-skin contact, as well as their mixed moans and groans

“Fuck, please. I’m gonna come” Niklas could feel himself twitch inside her as he listened to her voice

“Come for me, sweetheart” His tone wasn’t demanding, but it wasn’t soft either. His words had sent her over the edge, coming around him

Her rapid clenching around him, pulled him closer to his orgasm. His thrusts had become sloppy and uneven as he came inside her

Holding her still, he mouthed soft kisses on the side of her neck, pulling her down to earth again

He slowly pulled out of her before they gathered themselves, fixing their clothes. He kissed the top of her head as he handed her a glass of water

“Don’t you dare apologise” She said once she saw they way he opened his mouth to speak “You’ve already apologised once that was unnecessary, don’t do it twice” Her throat hurt like a bitch as she spoke

“Fine, I won’t” He caught her lips in a soft kiss after a short chuckle

[0-animelover-0]

Marcovaldo family x Reader

A/N: Massimo with a Feminine S/O, takes place after Massimo adopts Alberto.

My masterlist is -> here

Massimo (Luca)

Massimo is a kind man, we all know that.

He likes to hold your hands in his larger ones. He is a softly for the ones he loves.

Cooking together and walks are things he enjoys doing with you.

He isn't the jealous type, he trusts you completely.

He is a big guy so he gives you ever bigger hugs that last a few seconds unless he's in a hurry. Then it's just a quick hug.

He adores the things you do. Even if it is simple as doing something right. He treats you like you are the only person in the world.

Massimo may be a tall man with little words but his eyes and hands tell a different story. His light touches are gentle and love is always shown in his eyes as he looks at you. It's obvious that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

His daughter, Giulia, felt indifferent about you at first.

She wants what is best for her father and wants him to be happy.

But she also doesn't feel like he needs another potential spouse after him and her mother.

She felt like her father and mother would get back together but gave up on that hope after a while.

Giulia slowly warms up to you after seeing how happy you make Massimo.

She told her dad and admitted to you that she'd never call you "Mama" or "Mom".

You gently reassured her that it is completely okay if she never does. And you also told her that you'd never replace her mother which she greatly appreciated.

Massimo does plan things between the three of you to try and bond.

The man is a giant sweetheart when it comes to you and his daughter.

If he ever saw you and Giulia sleeping beside each other due to her accidentally falling asleep by you... Mans has an overload of emotions.

Of course he doesn't show it all that much but you can tell that he enjoys seeing you and his daughter getting along.

On the other hand, Alberto kinda liked the idea of having a mother figure in his life.

He thinks it is nice that Massimo found someone who loves him.

Alberto was hesitant at first during your first encounter but very soon he warmed up to.

He'd be protective over you if anyone came around you for too long.

He wouldn't admit it, but he enjoys moments when you run your fingers through his curly hair while he's in your lap. Instantly knocked out 'cause of it being so relaxing.

He would call you "Mama" or "Mom" at one point in yours and Massimo's relationship.

Alberto would want to show you everything he is proud of. How good he swims, how he can ride a bike, how fast he can climb, etc.

Moving on to tiny oneshot...

"Giulia! Alberto! Dinner is ready!" You yelled from the kitchen. When you received no response, you went outside and yelled it again towards the beach.

Giulia and Alberto looked at each other and big smiles broke out onto their faces. Giulia stood up before he could. "Race ya home!"

The boy quickly got up and laugher erupted from the both of them. They were both out of breath when they reached the house. Alberto put his hands on his knees and swallowed as he panted. "I won."

You smiled and rolled your eyes seeing the two of them compete against one another. "Come on you two. Eat before the food gets cold." You sat plates down onto the wooden table for everyone including yourself.

Giulia threw her hands in the air. "Yes! Trenette al Pesto!" Her and Alberto stuffed their faces with the pasta that you cooked.

You chuckled softly at the display and shook your head. "Woah woah, slow down. You're going to choke if you eat that fast."

Alberto shrugged and put more of the noodles on his fork. "It's alright Mama, I won't." The boy stopped mid bite with the fork close to his mouth; his mouth wide open. He was frozen as he realized what he had said. Giulia looked at him with big surprised eyes and her cheeks looked like a chipmunk since she was eating when he spoke.

Massimo raised one of his thick eyebrows while you tried not to tear up. Alberto put the fork down and finally looked at you. He cleared his throat and nervously met your eyes. "I'm sorry, it just slipped out."

You weren't mad or weirded out by him calling you 'Mama'. You found it sweet and made your heart swell. You leaned forward and put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't be sorry. I don't mind if you call me that. If you want to, you can."

Alberto smiled. "Really? I-I can?" He immediately jumped down from his seat and hugged you tightly. You blinked down at him but then happily smiled and wrapped your arms around him. Giulia was now smiling softly at the scene with her head tilted. Massimo cracked a smile and put a forkfull of pasta in his mouth.

[crazyblondelife]

Brand Crush - Sea Clothing + This & That

Happy Friday from Germany! Baldy and i have been visiting our daughter and her sweet little family, including Sarah’s husband, Will and our adorable grandson Bristol! Bristol turned two in January and is such an amazing little boy! He has personality for days and we’ve been entertained by him the whole time! We hadn’t seen them since December so we’ve been savoring every second of our time! Thankfully, at the end of this month, they’re moving back to the states and will only be three hours away from us, so we’ll get to see them much more often and spend holidays with them!

We’re in Vliseck Germany right now, but headed to Prague tomorrow for a short sightseeing trip and I couldn’t be more excited!

Today’s post is a jumble of different things that I’m loving right now from my new brand crush to my favorite hair oil and more! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m making some real lifestyle changes and choices. My focus is on purchasing more environmentally friendly clothing and more local products, including food from local farms. Our choices in life, the way we spend our money say a lot about who we are and it also speaks to what we want to bring forward and manifest.

The environmental impacts of the fashion industry, agriculture and most everything we purchase can be lessened when we choose companies who are doing their part to care for Mother Earth. It’s so much easier these days to shop at local farmer’s markets for everything from in season veggies to meats to honey and so much more. I’m sure you’ve noticed my post about our local potters - Haand Ceramics! I’ve absolutely loved getting to know them and it’s been so much fun to style my food in their fabulous dishes!

When it comes to shopping for clothes and shoes…it’s easier than it was, even several years ago to buy clothing that’s ethically produced and more environmentally friendly! Does this mean that I’ll never shop at Zara or Target and that I won’t pull into Starbucks every now and then…probably not, but I am trying to be more conscious of my purchases and choose wisely.

Let’s start with my new to me brand crush - Sea Clothing! I’ve known about this company for several years but this beautiful embroidered dress is my first purchase! I saw it and immediately thought it would be so perfect for late afternoons at the beach! I love to put on something comfortable but still cute after a day at the beach and sit on the porch (of course with an afternoon cocktail). This dress is made from organic cotton and couldn’t be any more perfect for those on the porch beach afternoons and it would also take me straight to dinner! When I tried it on and realized it had pockets, I was sold…pockets totally change the game for me! I’ve already worn it several times and it really dresses up with the sky high Stella McCartney espadrilles I’m wearing! I would, of course be barefoot on the porch at the beach!

And a little about Sea…

“Sea is born out of the friendship between childhood friends Sean Monahan and Monica Paolini.  Together, they share a vision that is distinctively Sea—combining Monica’s eye for vintage-feeling pieces and Sean’s leaning towards more modern, clean styles.  Their considered perspective forms an aesthetic that is quietly inviting and elegantly balanced. Classic silhouettes with a distinctive use of lace, embroidery, knits and technical fabrics result in collections that are at once both effortless and optimistic, romantic and boyish.  Each season, the duo continues to refine and reinvent their own language, developing a cherished connection with their global, modern customer who relies on the brand for their day-to-day wardrobe. They stay focused on the world of Sea, exploring, evolving and building the brand.”

And…here are a few more random summer “essentials” - in no particular order!

I have to leave you with at least one recipe! This one for Pesto Pasta Primavera from Camille Styles is next up on my list of easy weeknight dinners! It’s sounds so seasonal and fresh and I can’t wait to make it!

Last up…Baldy and I are so exited to watch the new season of Queer Eye! It’s been one of our favorites for so long! It’s heartwarming and such a positive show in a world that is desperately in need of positivity!

[radiant-reid]

Faking it

Chapter 2

Read chapter 1 here

It wasn't odd when Y/n's phone dinged at 10pm. She assumed it wasn't her mother, and she hoped it wasn't Penelope, with a new case. Her first presumption was JJ or Emily, asking if she wanted to have brunch like they often did.

However, it was strange that the contact read Spencer R.

She only had his number so she could call him about information when they were on a case. But now, he was texting her at 10 at night.

I'm sorry for texting you so late. I'm just freaking out that I don't really know that much about you outside of work. What happens if your mom asks me what your favorite color is? I even know that. Maybe you could write me few notes about all of the things I should know about you.

Y/n was surprised by how much his text sounded like his usual voice. Rambling and adorable.

She texted him back.

It's orange. Feel free to profile that. What are you doing tomorrow?

Spencer did spend a lot of time directing what her favorite color suggested. He associated it with warmth, energy, and freedom of expression. All things that Y/n represented.

He quickly wrote her back.

Nothing unless we get called in for a case.

Y/n giggled out loud at his workaholic nature. It was something she had always admired about him.

I'm hoping not. Maybe we can go for lunch at my favorite coffee shop? So you know where it is, and so you can quiz me on whatever you need to know.

She replied to his message. Y/n knew how stressed out Spencer could get when he didn't know everything about everything, and she happened to be one of the things he didn't understand.

Alright. Text me the address. I'll meet you there at 12?

Spencer's quick replies made Y/n's heart skip a beat. She knew it wasn't something he did for everyone.

She quickly typed back the address and grinned, alone in her bedroom. She felt silly for doing it, but it was nice to have someone interested in her, even if it was fake.

Y/n fell asleep quickly that night, much to her surprise. She assumed she would be up late, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. But it was possibly the best sleep she'd had in weeks.

Saturday mornings were her favorite when she wasn't on a case. There was no need to get up early, and she could sleep in.

She didn't wake up until the sun was already streaming through her curtains. Her phone said it was 8:53.

That left her with the right amount of time to have a shower, coffee, breakfast, and get ready. She didn't want to wear anything too dressy, but she did want to look nice. So, she ended up dressed in a white, lace sundress. Some accessorizing, makeup, and hair later, and she was ready to walk out the door.

It was much easier for her to walk than drive. Plus, the coffee shop was only a few blocks away.

When she got there, she got a table at the back. She would have ordered, but she wasn't sure what Spencer would want.

A few minutes later, he walked in dressed in a white polo, navy pants, and a matching navy cardigan. Of course, he had his satchel. It was a rarity to see him without a tie, but Y/n was enjoying it. It was a privilege few got.

Spencer was admiring the coffee shop. It was definitely somewhere he would be coming back to. There was a whole wall lined with books and fairy light strung around. It was a touch too contemporary but cozy. Just where he wanted to be on a rainy day with a book and an endless amount of coffee.

"Morning, Spence," Y/n said as he took a seat across from her.

Spencer glanced at his watch. As usual, it was wrapped around his cardigan, facing inwards. "Afternoon, actually." He counted with a small smile.

Y/n giggled at him. "Okay, Doctor, are you hungry?" She asked.

"Starving," Spencer replied, picking up the menu to look at it. "What's good here?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You've never been here?" She asked, shocked. Spencer shook his head. "Wow, you're missing out. I love the french toast, pesto pasta, and waffles. They're good, the waffles because you can get them sweet or savory. I prefer sweet, but maybe that's just me. I actually don't even know what you like to eat."

Spencer chuckled at her rambling. He had only ever seen her as confident and badass, talking down unsubs. But, here she was, across a small table from him in an aesthetically pleasing small coffee shop, nervous. He was taken aback by how cute he found it.

"Slow down." He instructed. The blush on her cheeks was evident when she nodded. "I will admit, I have a bit of a sweet tooth." As bad as he knew sugar was, he couldn't help it.

Y/n nodded. "Go for the French toast or waffles, for sure." She directed his attention to the menu, running her finger over the descriptions of the items.

Spencer read them, looking back at her only seconds later. "French toast." He decided. Brioche bread, roasted banana, strawberries, and chocolate shavings.

"I'm going to get waffles." Y/n decided. She went to get up to go order. Spencer instead grabbed her hand, standing up himself. "What are you up to?" She asked him, cautiously with raised eyebrows.

Spencer shrugged. "What type of fake boyfriend would I be if I let you pay for lunch?" He asked rhetorically. Y/n wanted to protest, to let him know he was doing her a favor, but he jumped in. "Do you want a coffee?"

Y/n nodded. "With-"

"Coconut milk, I know." He interrupted before walking off. Y/n was left sitting there, smiling about how he remembered that.

Then again, he remembered everything.

He came back a few minutes later and pulled out a journal from his satchel. Y/n furrowed hey eyebrows at him again.

"We've got to get the story straight, so I think it would be beneficial if we had notes," Spencer explained, taking out a pen as well.

Y/n nodded, still feeling a little unsure. "What do we need to straighten out?"

Spencer drew out a line on the page, and Y/n was still confused. "I'm writing a timeline. We're going to put everything that's supposedly happened on here." He clarified. "Alright." He moved his pen to the start of the line. "When did we meet?"

"Uh, I guess when I joined to team?" Y/n offered.

Once she'd said that, the coffee came. Giving her a brief moment of peacefulness before the integration.

Spencer wrote the date in but looked back up at her, curls swaying. "We need to have an exact moment."

Y/n nodded. "In the elevator." She remembered. "And you thought I was the intern." It was true his profiling skills were off that day. Plus, she looked young. Not that he could talk when he joined the BAU, he looked all of 14.

Spencer wrote in the information. "Okay, I think we should keep as many details as possible the same." Y/n was thankful he was taking the lead. She hadn't thought for half long as she'd been looking into his honey brown eyes.

Y/n nodded. "Next, I guess, would be when you asked me out." She figured.

Spencer shook his head, disagreeing. "I mean, I don't know your parents, but if they're anything like the BAU, they're going to want all the details of when we starting l-liking each other." He tried to explain. Y/n knew her family, and they were maybe even nosier than the BAU.

"Alright. I'll tell them that I always thought you were cute." Spencer instinctively blushed, wishing it was true. "Write that down," Y/n told him, enjoying the effect she had on him. Spencer complied, albeit hesitantly. "And then I got to see that beautiful brain working on that case in Tenessee." He remembered the one. It was a proud moment for him. He usually would chalk everything up to teamwork, but that one was almost all his genius. "And, I knew I liked you for more than your pretty face."

"You're good at this," Spencer told her. If only it were the truth, he thought. With red cheeks, he wrote down the information before writing his own 'moment' down.

"Wait, wait, wait, tell me what yours was," Y/n demanded, trying to read his words upside down. Spencer shook his head. "If we were together, I would have asked about it." She figured.

Spencer groaned at how impossible she could be but shared anyway. "When I had that theory about the case in New Mexico, and you were the one who suggested we follow up as much as we could." He told her. Something about Y/n made him feel needed. She remembered the case. Once again, Spencer's brilliant mind had solved it.

"Okay, what about first impressions?" Y/n asked, tapping the start of the line where Spencer had written Y/n thought Spencer was cute.

The third-person writing structure put it in perspective for her. It was just a movie script. No real feelings.

Spencer thought about it before writing something. "I thought you looked young."

"Oh, come on." Y/n groaned. "I thought we were trying to make this romantic?" She whined.

"Maybe, I'll add immature." He offered, a grin lighting up his face when he saw how visibly mad it made her. "Fine, fine, beautiful." He settled on, making her cheeks heat up. She tried to cover it by taking a sip of her coffee. It was perfect, just the way she liked it.

“Uh, so what after that?” Y/n asked, desperately trying to keep the conversation professional. 

Spencer looked along the timeline. Although he had a limited amount of experience to draw from, he had read a lot of studies about the progression of romantic relationships. “Next, I guess, is however I asked you out.”

“As cheesy as possible.” Y/n requested a little smile on her face. She couldn't help her imagination run wild. 

Spencer nodded to her. He already had an idea of how he’d ask someone out. “Well, there is this line that, uh, John Green wrote in L-Looking for Alaska.” Y/n nodded, prompting him to continue. “And it says ‘do you want to be my girlfriend.’”

“Wait, you annotate it to asked me out?” Y/n cut him off. Spencer sheepishly nodded. “That’s perfect!” She exclaimed. “And really, really cheesy. I love that. Make it like 5 months ago.” Spencer took a note of it. In the book and in his head. 

“Okay, first date?” Spencer asked. 

Y/n thought about it for a second. “Something very Spencer.” She started. “A planetarium.” She finally decided. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, looking for an explanation. She was happy to provide him with one. “It’s a bit geeky but very sweet.” She told him. 

Spencer blushed but wrote it down. “A week after I asked you out?” He asked, not sure what to write. Y/n nodded and he wrote the date down. 

“Great. So how did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” Y/n asked. 

Spencer might not have understood how complicated relationships were. “Uh, w-with flowers?” He offered. Y/n’s nod prompted him to write it down. “It will have to be a week after, so the timeline fits.” He figured. 

“Okay, so that’s probably it.” Y/n thought, looking at the slightly empty timeline. 

Spencer didn’t have time to debate it before their food turned up. 

They both quickly dug in. Spencer instantly found out why this was her favorite. It was the softest, more delicate french toast he’d ever eaten. Y/n also looked, to him, that she was enjoying her waffles. 

“We still have some things to go over.” Spencer started as he ate. Y/n looked up at him, a fork in her mouth, and furrowed her eyebrows. “I barely know anything about your family. Can you fill me in, please?” He requested. 

He’d been up until midnight, nervous over all the things he could be quizzed on. 

Y/n nodded. “Alright. So my parents are going to be there. Y/m/n and Y/d/n. Probably best to call him Sir or Mr. L/n to start with.” Spencer's eyebrows raised, looking terrified. “He’ll warm up to you, but one of my ex-boyfriends called him Y/d/n to start with, and he didn’t like him.” 

“Ohh.” Spencer realized. “Should I call your mom Mrs. L/n?” 

“Uh, yeah, probably. She’ll immediately let you call her Y/m/n, but she’ll appreciate it.” Y/n explained. Spencer nodded at her, memorizing everything she was telling him. “My younger brother and his wife are coming. She’s pregnant, so my parents are ecstatic to have their first grandchild. However, in their eyes, he’s now the more accomplished one.”  She said with a little giggle.

The look on Spencer’s face was horror. Clearly, as an only child, he wasn’t used to having sibling rivalry. “But, you’re an FBI agent.” He figured, unable to understand how anyone could be better than Y/n. 

She shrugged. “I’m still the single 27 year old.” She laughed again, trying to ensure him it was okay. 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not single anymore.” He told her, reaching out to place his hand on hers with a smile. 

Y/n blushed a little. “Thanks, Spence.” 

He smiled at her. “Okay, so who else should I expect to meet?” Spencer asked after he’d awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“There’s my parents' best friends who have an older son, Logan, with twins, a girl, and a boy. They’re 4 and the most adorable ever.” Y/n grinned at the memory of her niece and nephew. Although they weren’t blood-related, they were very close. Spencer nodded, retaining what she was saying. “There are probably a hundred other people, mostly just random friends of theirs.” 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Spencer asked. Y/n had a tell. She would always pick at her fingernails when she lied. 

Y/n sighed. Everyone on the team knew her tell but her. “My ex-boyfriend will most likely be there. He is a complete douche, and he’s definitely going to ask about a thousand personal questions.” She informed him, looking annoyed about whoever this guy was. 

“Oh, uh, like what?” Spencer hesitantly asked. 

“Sex, most likely,” Y/n told him nonchalantly. “But he’s also going to grill you.” She continued. 

Spencer blushed at her lewd language, completely taken aback. “Um, so I g-guess we need to go... go over that.” He figured like it was a question, his voice was high and squeaky. 

“Yeah, unfortunately in some detail. Preston does not respect boundaries.” That last thing she wanted to do was make Spencer uncomfortable, especially when he was helping her out. 

He gulped and nodded. “So we’re telling him we have sex?” He asked, cheeks still red. 

“If you don’t mind?” Y/n guilty asked.

She felt terrible about it, and Spencer could tell. He didn’t want her to feel awkward. “No, not at all. You can tell him whatever you need.”

Y/n nodded, thankfully. “So I can really stick it to him? Tell him you’re the best I’ve ever had?” Now that she knew he was seriously alright with it, she could tease him. 

“O-of course.” Spencer hesitantly replied, blushing and nervous. “Are there any other things I should know about?” He asked. 

Y/n dwelled on it for a moment, unsure about what he might need to know. “I do have a plan in case they ask us something we don’t have a plan for.” She mentioned. Spencer nodded, prompting her to continue. “I answer one question, then you answer the next.” 

“Alright. But maybe we should do some other type of pattern. One each might be too obvious. Maybe we could do it as a geometric progression, just to avoid suspicion.” Spencer suggested, talking quickly as he did when he rambled.

Y/n’s giggle made him stop. “I think that’s going to be too difficult to remember for me.” She told him, not doubting his brilliant mind but her own. 

“We’ll need another system then,” Spencer told her. 

Y/n thought about it. “We’ll hold hands, and when I squeeze your hand, I answer the question and vice versa.” She decided. 

Spencer nodded, still blushing. “Alright.” 

With all their plans decided, they figured it was best to part ways. Both of them were a little concerned about how difficult the weekend was going to be. But, both of them had no idea the other knew. 

Next chapter

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[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Two)

Word Count - 1241

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Minor bullying, brief panic attack, flashbacks

Inspiration - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

The days were always slow, agonizing. It was both a curse and a blessing for the two florists. It brought on periods of intense boredom, yet allowed some time for them to bond more, if that was even possible. Penelope had been struggling to find a job which didn’t come as a surprise to her, knowing her condition. When she finally reached Emma after weeks of searching, not only was she hired on the spot, but Emma had welcomed her to the business as if she was family. It had been hard for Penelope to adjust as they had conflicting personalities, but after a few months of endless conversations and working she finally started to open up to the older brunette. It had been one of their great milestones.

Emma was not just a friend to Penelope, but a role model. A mentor when her own mother no longer could be. In fact, she truly did start to view her as a mother figure after a few years. She always treated her with respect and took care of her when she needed it most. It would be a lie, however, if Emma said she never had any motherly instincts when it came to Penelope.

“So,” Emma piped up as they munched on their lunch. Penelope peaked up at her from under her bangs. “I found out my parents are gonna be visiting in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Emma nodded, wiping her mouth off with a napkin. “For how long?”

“I think a week? They’re still figuring out the details.”

“Is there a special occasion or…?” She nodded again.

“My dad’s birthday. He’s turning 70.” Penelope hummed.

“The big 7-0, huh?”

“Yup.” Emma stood up, collecting their trash and throwing it out in a nearby trash can. “Can’t say he’s too happy about it, though.” She giggled, Penelope joining in soon after. Emma suddenly gasped and looked over at her with wide eyes. “You’ve never met them, have you?” She watched as Penelope shook her head. “Well, missy. You’re gonna have to free up one of your nights that week for dinner. My dad makes some mean steaks.” She winked at Penelope who just smiled.

“I’m looking forward to it.” The bell chimed and their heads snapped to the front door, a familiar blond sauntering into the shop, head held high with a pearly white smile. Penelope’s disappeared the second she saw it.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Emma squeezed her in a tight hug as Penelope went back to writing in her journal. “Penny, you remember Alice, right?” The woman in question simply nodded without so much as a glance, the blond’s smile faltering ever so slightly.

“I just wanted to buy some more flowers for the house, and say ‘hi’ of course.” They laughed for a short bit.

“Sure! Anything in particular or do you just wanna look around?”

“I was actually thinking about stargazer lilies?” Emma made a sound with a roll of her eyes, flicking her wrist.

“Oh, of course. I shoulda’ guessed. Let me grab it from the back.” Alice’s eyes followed her mother before turning her attention to Penelope. She took her time walking over to the woman hunched over the counter, pencil fiercely scratching away.

“Hey, Patchy.” The scratching came to a strong halt. Her voice had been soft, sweet, giving anyone a false sense of security. Though Penelope knew it was anything but. Going back to writing after a few seconds, Alice clicked her tongue. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a mute.” A few more seconds passed and the blond was slowly losing her composure. “What, are you deaf, too?”

“No point in talking. I ignored you just fine the first time.” Penelope informed her with feigned innocence, a small smile playing on her lips making the other’s twitch into a frown. Alice’s mouth opened to speak, only to close when her mother entered the room once again. She held a glass vase filled with the preferred flowers, setting them on the counter as her daughter pulled out a ten from her wallet and handed it to her.

“Love you, mah!” She called over her shoulder as she left the building. Emma frowned as she looked over at Penelope who now chewed ferociously at her cheek, fingertips white where they gripped the pencil.

———————————————————————

With candlelit faces, the two of them laughed. The younger woman’s eyes were glazed over with joy as her mother presented the cake in the dark room.

The soothing ambience of the soft music and boiling water in the background was a stark contrast compared to her raging thoughts. She made her way to the fridge, opening the freezer to pull out a bag of tortellini.

As thick smoke started to crowd the room, accompanied by distant screams, they stared at each other. Now both of their eyes were glazed, yet it held an entirely different meaning.

After having ripped the bag open with her teeth, Penelope warily poured the frozen pasta into the water, standing as far away as possible to avoid being splashed. As she waited for them to be ready she grabbed a jar of pesto from the fridge, then a larger bowl and olive oil from the cupboard.

“Penny-” She was cut off by her own coughing. “The window - open the window!”

Lightly sucking on the inside of her bleeding cheek, she brought the pot over to the strainer that had been placed in the sink. She leaned away from the steam as she poured in the pasta and water, setting the pot aside when she finished. The bowl was brought over for the pasta to be transferred.

Even through the overwhelming pain, she maintained eye contact with her daughter for reassurance. She noticed the way she apprehensively glanced out of the window. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the still air of the room. Having now sat down on the floor against the counter she let her head fall back with a light ‘thud’, taking shaky breaths as she tried to ground herself. Suddenly, she cried out to the nothingness in front of her, not a yell or a scream. The noise had found the perfect middleground as she trembled.

Penelope wasn’t sure how long it had been. Hours, minutes, maybe even only seconds. Her legs were laid out in front of her now, head hung low with a gentle sniff every now and then. Her dinner had been long forgotten. She had lost her appetite. She looked over to where the small bowl had been thrown, white chunks scattered below where it hit the wall. Thankfully the wall was fine save for some scratched paint.

She begrudgingly pushed herself from the floor to cover the bowl with the pasta and put it in the fridge. She left the glass where it was, deciding to just clean it up after work the next day. With a soft ‘click’ her bedroom glowed with warm light and she trudged over to the small bathroom. Just as she was about to start her normal routine, however, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was small, barely noticeable as it blended with the egg-white countertop. The lined paper had some chicken scratch on it and she strained her eye to read it, yet when she could finally make out the words her heart dropped. Always wear a smile.

[fascination-street-writing]

In the Gathering Gloom | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

You think you might want him to hold you, but you refrain from crossing that line. It is a game that lovers play – and he is not yours. To love him, for what he has done and more, is sacrilege.

A continuation of Stealing Past the Windows

Content Warnings: P-TSD

You never cared for bruttiboni very much, but you do not mind the ones that Leone purchases from the bakery down the street at La Torta e il Coniglio. In truth, you are thankful for anything he brings home, for you remember what it was like to nearly starve so clearly that it might have been an old habit of survival. It has made you appreciative of the dry almond biscuits. Besides, they are far better dunked in hot coffee.

Leone takes the seat across from you at the breakfast nook. Laid out in front of him is nothing more than a ceramic mug of sweetened tea. You have learned, in your time living together, that he seldom eats in the morning – something to do with luncheons with his coworkers and not wanting to spoil his appetite. You finish your meal but before you can rise to carry your emptied plate to the sink, he has already taken it from your grasp and placed it within the basin.

Water hails from the spigot. “Thank you,” you tell him. He nods.

You fasten the apron to your torso. You have taken up a job at a local café, though not out of a monetary incentive; Leone provides for you plenty. Anything you request, he brings to you on a hypothetical silver platter – so you have stopped asking. But you understand his sense of obligation. You suppose that, in his situation, you would do anything for the child of the man you might as well have killed with your own hands. Bruttiboni will not bring back your parents; though, you appreciate the gesture.

Truthfully, you work because you need the distraction. There are only so many books to read in a day until something miniscule reminds you of the circumstances you escaped in the not quite so distant past. Perhaps it is the turning of a page in a romance novel – the scratching of parchment to parchment – that reminds you of pattering mice in the rafters. Or, the air coolant system that sounds like the rusted box fan of your former abode; to call it that – an abode – is an underserved gratuity. On several occasions, you have had to remind yourself that the gunshots on the streets below are truly nothing more than the thumping of life and movement in the apartments around you. 

Regardless of it all, the verbal silence is the worse, because it is akin to the loneliness you once felt. It is unbearable when Leone is away. And so, you press espresso shots for underpaid businessmen and lattes for mothers who rush to work after dropping their children off at school – just as your own madre had used to do every morning. Occasionally, the businessmen congregate together and stay for at least an hour; they are always cordial enough, and never leave too much of a mess to clean. The mothers, on the other hand, are gone the moment their overpriced beverage meets their grasp. You are glad that you are neither a businessman nor a mother. But you wish you still had yours.  

Leone sets the cleaned plate atop the drying rack. Water splashes on the plates that have already dried. Somebody ought to put them away, you think. Although, it is convenient to leave them there for next use. What good is it to stack a plate in the cabinet when you are going to pull it back out for dinner?

You sling your purse over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” you say to Leone. Taking a quick breath, you leave the sanctity of the apartment, not quite ready to face the new day. You suppose you should be beholden to the predictable, albeit boring, cycle that has become your new life.

After all, you have found exactly what you wanted.

“Didn’t I?” you ask to no one in particular but yourself.

You did.

You settle onto the couch and twirl the fork through the mound of pasta. The tender trofie, complimented by the simple addition of pesto and cream, is the embodiment of comfort; content, you sigh and prop your sore legs upon the ottoman. It is a simple dish, to be sure – and Leone has perfected it. It has become a favorite of yours. He prepares it once a week now.

Seated beside you, he eats. The low hum of the television resonates throughout the room. It is nothing more than meager accompaniment to the words leaving your mouth. Between bites of your meal, you mutter unrepeatable expletives regarding incompetent coworkers and rude patrons. Regardless of the grievances that leave your tongue, you are relatively – though not quite entirely – happy.

Leone reaches for his wine glass, bending his wrist to swirl the nectar. Threads of red velvet flush the edges, only ever for a fleeting moment. He raises the Castello Silenzioso to his mouth. It will be his only glass tonight. It is plenty, for he drinks your soliloquy as if your words are a sweet wine poured from a from a bottle of blush – insobriety without consequence.

He enjoys listening to you complain about work far more than he should.

Once in your hand, the fork now rests against the plate, still. You catch Leone’s gaze, unexpecting to see the look of adoration that sweeps across his ombre eyes; perplexingly so, it fills you with a pang analogous to guilt. It is true that he is indebted to you. But that does not mean you cannot feel like an extortionist.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I shouldn’t rant about work, especially considering that I don’t even need to be there. Mio Dio, I just feel like . . .”

A burden.

“You’re not a burden,” he interjects, as if he can peer through your clouded mind and devour the thoughts pulsing within. “If you ever say that again, I –” He cuts himself off, takes a second to breathe, and continues: “It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside. You know that.”

He is right; but the bottle has saved you once before. “You say that, but you don’t ever talk to me about your work, which is obviously something stressing you out. Perhaps, you should practice what you preach: pratica ciò che predichi, Leone.”

“No, because telling you would be a burden.”

You have no doubt that it assuredly is. And yet, your final threads of distrust for this man cling to the uncertainty of his identity. Leone gave you a home after he destroyed your first, and a family of two to replace that which he stole away. With each passing day – each morning spent in cool silence and evenings shaped by dinners of trofie – your once-steady flame of hatred for him extinguishes ever so slightly.

But forgiveness lies in the lavender fields still beyond your reach.

“Don’t I at least have a right to know what you do for a living?” you inquire, practically teetering on the edge of the soda. “Or how you came up with the money to pay off the debt?”

“No.”

You pout and desist. Perhaps he is right – perhaps it is better that you continue to dwell in the perpetual state of innocent ignorance of which you have lived in for so long now. Better that than to be the judge of something you cannot understand. Conceding is never easy, yet you do it anyways.

“Forget I asked.” You trail off, pausing before seeking an exit to the conversation. “It’s my night to do dishes; I should get started.”

Maybe tonight, you will put them away.

“Wait,” Leone says with a heavy sigh, catching you in mid-stance. “Just wait.”

You sit down. He supposes it would not hurt to tell you about his day – barring the incriminating details, of course. The smile upon your face when he begins to speak is confirmation that he has made the right choice.

Because you look at him as if his stories are as interesting as yours.

“That’ll be ₤11,500.”

“Grazie. Keep the change.”

The handle of the grinder is stuck again. The stray coffee bean catches betwixt the blade and the stainless-steel cup. You jerk the handle back and forth in an attempt to jostle the wedged apparatus free. It cracks under the tension of your grip, so much indeed that it might break at your touch. You would rather not be the one to break the stubborn coffee grinder, and it certainly would not be pleasant to have to pay for a new one. You decide that it might be best to leave it for the next person to find.

Pausini is scheduled to work after you. Though you would never say it to her face, you find her to be terribly boring and a klutz. Better her be the one to break it than you. Besides, your boss would not be surprised if she were in fact the one to do it.

“Hey, signorina.” The cramped space of the café smells of stale cigars and a peculiar cologne with the inclusion of the latest customer. It is a familiar blend that makes your palms clammy and your knees shake. “Seems like you have your work cut out for you, eh?”

You look to the man before the counter. Although a fresh, healing scar adorns the corner of his lip to the highest crook of his eyebrow – the stitching is so crude that it looks as if his torn skin had been zipped back together – his is a face you recognize in nightmares: the man, your former procurer, who murdered your mother and forced you to work the corner.  

With plenty of grit, fixing a jammed coffee grinder is easy. But confronting your past is as arduous as Atlas holding the globe with his own two hands. Regardless, you are not paid enough to do either.

The coffee grinder falls from your slackened grasp and shatters on the floor. You do not have the chance to meet the fearful look in his eyes, for you have already fled by the time he can process your face. He remembers you from nightmares as well. He remembers the man with sleek bobbed hair who split his cheek in half with the mere swipe of his finger, too. And the dirty ex-cop who nearly pulverized his kneecap with the heel of his shoe in the process, as if his bones were no more than fiberglass.

He leaves the café without bothering to place an order and finds himself glancing over his shoulder more often than not. Meanwhile, you push past street patrons and venders alike, ignoring the angry shouts thrown your way. Your cellphone vibrates in your pocket as your shift supervisor attempts to call you, to coax you back into work. But you cannot go back there right now. You will not. Instead, you squeeze your palms and bite your lip to ward off the ever-growing panic in your chest.

Never before has Leone’s apartment door looked so enticing – so welcoming – to you; not even on the night he first brought you home. You throw yourself inside and slide against the wall of the foyer, hand raised to your mouth to stifle your own sobbing. In the living room, Leone stands. You had not realized that he would be home. You are torn between running into his arms for comfort or running away. He makes the decision for you, catching you as your knees buckle and nearly cast you aside. 

He holds you flush, your head to his chest and his hand through your hair. For a moment, you are back in the alleyway with your skirt bunched around your ankles and a chill to your spine. Broken bits of green glass lie on the cobblestone and catch the fleeting glimmers of moonbeams. You stop and listen to the beating of your own obstinate heart. It tells you that you do not want his help – you simply do not. You need it.

“Hey,” he coos as you quake in his embrace, like a newborn fawn. A fawn with wings perhaps, for you feel your lungs inflate, as if you have been cast into the sky. To anywhere other than Napoli. You suppose the world will stop for a moment if only you just close your eyes. And so, you do. Though your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip, and your chest might split in two, you keep your eyes shut, to salvage that which has mended and threatens to unravel if you should let go.

The trouble of it all, you know, is that you had never really healed. You simply had not given enough thought to it.  You are young – trapped in what are supposed to be the grandest years of your life. But life is not forgiving, and you despise her all the same.

You feel only loss. And it is suffocating.

“Sei al sicuro, [Y/N].”

Leone does not ask why you have barged home hours before the end of your shift. But it does not matter.

“You’re safe.”

You do not believe him – you cannot even speak. You clutch him tighter and realize that he has been drinking. The scent of wine shrouds him like a perfume. Now you are dizzy and leaning on him is not enough: second-hand intoxication. He carries you to bed instead, for despite your shuttering of breaths and your gasps for air, you have asked him to do so. In the fortitude of a rumpled comforter and sheets, you lie awake, clutching the pillows that smell like his shampoo – honeysuckle, leather, and cedar. Admittedly, Leone has not slept in the comforts of his own bed in months, ever since he took you in. The couch is good for him, because you deserve the bed more, he thinks.

“You’re safe.”

But the pillows still smell like him, of course.

“I saw him, Leone.”

His hand brushes your back, hesitant, before it rests along your spine.

“I’m sorry.”

You meet his sunset eyes. He looks different without his makeup – he looks as tired as he truly is. And so do you.

“Please, just say you’ll protect me,” you bed, hushed. “Even if it isn’t true. Just give me something.”

Something to cling to, because the buoy is out of reach.

“Always.”

A wave knocks you adrift.

“Don’t leave me.”

You are pulled asunder.

“Never.”

You must be drowning.

He had not meant to fall asleep next to you. In your infectious exhaustion, you had succumbed, and he felt the temptation to do the same, soon enough. Though he promised himself that he would leave once you calmed down, he could not follow through. Your dampened cheeks had felt slick and sticky beneath his palms as he wiped them away. He lingered, admiring the way your lashes kissed the soft skin of your cheekbones, before he lied down. On his back, he memorized the pinprick holes of the ceiling, lost in thoughts of you.

He also promised that he would not fall in love with you – Leone never was one for keeping good to his word, was he? Feelings are harmless; if he does not act on them, he is content with longing. Alas, he settles in and away.

Hours later, you wake to the sound of gentle breaths next to you. Leone sleeps, caving after months without sleeping in a bed. Despite the additional blanket draped over both your bodies, you still shiver. You notice, too, that he has kept his distance. You think you might want him to hold you, but you refrain from crossing that line. It is a game that lovers play – and he is not yours. To love him, for what he has done and more, is sacrilege.

The daytime blues have blended into the nighttime rift of Napoli. The dark sky outside confirms that you have slept well into the evening, as if the analog lock on the bedside table was not telling. You glance over to Leone, who sleeps as if to forget the obligation of your existence. He looks younger this way, though you suppose that he is only a man of twenty, after all. He ought to look his age. 

Your stomach churns into knots as you begin to recollect the events of this afternoon. Your phone has several missed calls from your boss, and a text from Pausini informing you that you have been fired for your transgressions. No questions, no inquiries: just fired. You wonder what did it. Fleeing before the end of your shift, or the broken coffee grinder – perhaps the culmination of both. Realizing that you are still wearing your apron, you untether it and throw it into the darkness of the room. If you never find it again, you will be better for it. Never mind the emblems of your mistakes. They will only make you grieve.

It is an undeserving punishment, and one that will tar your resume forever. It feels as if your dreams have slipped past your fingers yet again. Groaning, you bury your face in your hands, unaware of Leone’s stirring behind you. You wish to escape to the place where no one you have ever known will come – to start anew, wherever that may be anymore. Alone, with no husband, no baby in a bassinet, and no lavender fields.

You crave solitude to wallow in your shame. Leone sits up, casting the blanket aside.  “I lost my job,” you mutter through your palms. “They fired me. I lost my fucking job.”

“You don’t need it,” he tells you. You suppose it is his way of reassuring you, though it does you little good. “The job, or the trouble it’s caused.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Sit in the living room all day eating bonbons, reading books, and watching television, like a princess in a castle?”

“Would it really be that bad?”

“For me, yes,” you affirm.

He sighs. “Alright,” Leone begins, “then we’ll start job searching tomorrow. In the meantime, it would do you good to take some time off.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to take any time off. I can’t, Leone. You don’t understand. I need a job.”

“What do you want me to do about it right now?” You have no answer. “Conjure up one out of thin air?”

Until you do: “What about at that restaurant you always go to? Il Libeccio, or whatever. Do you think they’re hiring?”

He stiffens beside you. A cold look sweeps his face. You know that you have said something wrong.

“No,” he tells you with little room for debate. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let you.”

But it is not your folly. To Leone, the rationality behind his refusal is simple: he wants nothing more than to keep you away from Passione. Even from his closest comrades. And even from Il Libeccio. Perhaps, it is that he fears what you will think of him should you discover his occupation – or his self-professed fall from grace, to go from being a poliziotto alongside your father, to a soldato of the most powerful gang in Italia. Indifference, anger, trepidation; he cannot fathom, and he does not wish to. He tells himself that, by keeping you away, he is keeping you safe.

But you do not understand that. And yet, how could you? In your ignorance, you scoff, irked by his insistence. “Why not? Are you afraid that your friends might see the consequences of you’ve done to my family and hate you for it? Maybe they should, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You have wounded him, though still he will not tell you the truth. You regret the words before they leave your mouth. His face morphs into a scowl, for your accusation has struck him, as if a knife has been placed to his belly. Your heart grows heavy with regret even as he exits the room, long overdue, with nothing else to say. The door slams so hard that it rattles on the hinges, and it makes you flinch. You are certain that your neighbors have heard it, for in the distance, a woman shouts, and a dog begins to bark; you feel like a proper idiot and a child, sitting there in the remnants of your work uniform. You wish the bed could swallow you whole. You wish to be anywhere but here.

Leone was wrong – you understand that now. A new wave of tears spills from your eyes, and you hastily wipe them away with the corner of your polo shirt. You know that you are a burden to him, indeed. You wonder what kind of apartment you will be able to afford with the money you have saved up. Perhaps it is time for you to fly the nest that you and Leone have both built together.

Perhaps it is time for a new start. 

| 3492 Words |

Tagging: @honeytea8​ @gloomygoregirl​ @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero​

[returntobeaconhills]

Moonrise - Chapter Two

Chapter Two - The Hungry Fox 

Walt puts out dishes heaped with eggs and bacon as everyone takes a seat for their post-run breakfast.

"What are your plans for the day?" Talia asks her children, but her eyes are specifically on Derek.

"I don't have class. Thought I'd draw for a while, out at the edge of the preserve." Derek clears his throat and picks at his bacon.

"That sounds like a nice day," Walt says. "You should stop back in for lunch and I'll make you a chicken pesto sandwich. How does that sound?"

Derek smiles. "Yeah, Dad. Thanks."

Cora checks the time. "I've got to head out. I'm supposed to open the coffee shop today."

Laura finishes up and stands. "I can give you a ride."

"Have a good day, girls," Talia says.

"Thanks for breakfast, Dad," Derek says as he finishes his own food.

"Of course. I'll see you at lunch." Walt starts to clear the dishes.

"I look forward to seeing your sketches later," Talia tells Derek with a smile, but her face is still lined with concern.

Derek leans and nuzzles lightly against her shoulder, head bowed.

Talia sighs, comforted by the touch. She pets over his hair. "You never tell me that I worry too much like your sisters do."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Derek says with a small laugh. "Anytime we're not all together, it's like there's a hook in my chest, pulling me to wherever the others are."

Talia turns her face to look at him. "There is nothing wrong with you! You just feel a strong bond to the pack." She hugs him. "Would you like to stay home with me today?"

Derek shakes his head. "No, I'm okay." He pauses. "That's what makes it so strange, you know? I don't even remember making the decision to break from the pack and chase. I just did it."

Talia's lips go thin. "Do you think something else was controlling you?"

Derek tilts his head and considers. "I don't know. I don't think so, but...felt like instinct. Felt like when I was first learning to control the shift, and I'd turn without even realizing I'd done it."

Talia studies him for a long moment. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," Derek murmurs. Talia squeezes Derek's hand. "So, tell me, what did this fox look like?"

"It was a little fennec fox. Sort of tan-colored. Great big ears. They're not native to California, but. Immigrants, I guess." Derek licks his lips. "And as a boy, I didn't see him very long, but he was tall and pale and... freckly."

"I see." Talia suppresses a smile. "Maybe you can draw the fox from memory while you're out today."

Derek's eyes light up. "You're right. That's a great idea."

Talia stands and kisses Derek's hair. "Take some snacks and water with you so you don't get hungry."

"Yes, ma'am." Derek gets to his feet, stretches, and waits for his mother's dismissal.

Talia nods. "You may go."

Derek bows his head and goes upstairs to shower and dress.

As soon as Derek steps outside, it feels as if he is being watched. Derek tightens the straps on his backpack, a nervous habit, and starts walking out to the edge of the preserve.

As Derek is making his way through the preserve, his eye catches something unusual. As he approaches, he realizes it's a pile of clothing: a discarded hoodie, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, socks, and boxers. He kneels down next to the pile, scenting the air.

Once he catches the scent, the fox comes into view. The fox tilts his head as he watches Derek.

"Hey," Derek says, surprised. "It's you."

The fox lets out a short bark.

Derek flashes his eyes blue. "You never saw me like this. Do you recognize me?"

The fox huffs and nods his head. Still on his knees, Derek holds out a hand, palm up.

The fox approaches slowly. After several long moments, he sniffs Derek's hand. The fox pushes his head against Derek's hand in order to be petted.

“Hey, little guy,” Derek says with a laugh, gently running his fingertips along the fox’s ears.

At the use of 'little guy,' the fox nips lightly at Derek's wrist.

“Ow. Oh--sorry. You’re not just--those are really nice ears,” Derek offers.

The fox preens and ducks his head to offer Derek his ears. Upon closer inspection, Derek can see a small dusting of freckles and moles along the cream-colored fur.

“Wow, you have freckles even in your shifted form.” Derek’s fingertips hover over the freckles, mapping them from a distance like stars. “That’s...I didn’t even know that could happen. That’s amazing.” He gives a self-conscious laugh, looking away as a blush creeps up his neck.

The fox jumps on Derek's arm and climbs up to perch on his shoulder. He noses at Derek's red cheek before moving over Derek's shoulder to paw at his backpack.

“I’ll show you what’s inside, but you gotta jump off first. I don’t want you to fall off when I set it down.”

The fox uses Derek's shoulder as a launch pad to jump from. He settles on the hoodie as he watches with large eyes.

“Okay.” Derek swings the bag off of his shoulder and unzips it, pulling out several bottles of water, a brown paper bag with a bit of a grease stain on the bottom, a box of pencils, and a sketchpad.

The fox immediately pounces on the bag. He tries to tug it with his small teeth, but the sight is mostly comical.

Derek’s brow furrows slightly, even as his lips pull up. “Hey, little g--uh, fox. Are you hungry?” His eyes widen. “D-did I keep you from doing your hunting last night?”

The fox scratches at the bag and looks up at Derek.

“Sorry, yeah, let me...” Derek pulls a plastic container out of the bag, a bit of oil fingerprinting the outside. He opens it to reveal an aromatic Greek-style pasta dish with a bit of cooked lamb tucked into the corner, placing the meal in front of the fox.

The fox dives in, his little paws slipping in the dirt as he moves to eat. The fox eats about half of the food before pulling back. He yawns and curls up on the clothes.

“I’ll leave the rest for you. After your nap.” Derek puts the lid back on the container and picks up his drawing materials.

One of the fox's eyes stays cracked open, curious as to what Derek will do next.

Derek opens one of the water bottles and sets it upright on the ground next to the food. “Thirsty?”

The fox gets up and moves toward the bottle. He uses a paw to knock the bottle over and starts to drink as the water spills out.

“That’s good.” Derek clears his throat as he opens his sketchbook. “We always have plenty of food. More than enough.”

The fox gets his fill of water before settling back on the clothes. He hides his face with a paw as he sleeps.

Only the sound of the pencil moving across paper accentuates the fox’s even breathing. Derek stays perfectly still except to draw.

His phone goes off with a text. The fox stirs and lifts his head to look at Derek with as much annoyance as the small face can muster.

Talia to Derek: Everything okay, sweetheart?

Derek turns his phone to silent.

Derek: Yes.

The fox stretches out and sleeps for another half hour. When he wakes, the fox jumps up on a tree stump to get a view of Derek's drawing.

Derek breaks his pencil in his clumsy rush to try to cover up an extremely detailed sketch of the sleeping fox.

The fox huffs and scowls as Derek moves to hide his work. He jumps down and moves into Derek's backpack. He pokes his head outside, but doesn't make any other movements to leave it.

“Get cold sometimes?” Derek asks, voice a little too high as he closes his sketchbook.

The fox moves its head from side to side to indicate he’s not in the bag because he’s cold.

"That's good." Derek reaches out to pet him.

The fox starts a soft purr under the attention. Derek chuckles, a low, pleased rumble. The fox moves out of the bag and starts jumping around in a circle. He flashes his eyes at Derek.

"What's this?" Derek smiles at the sight, but scents the air to make sure it isn't a warning.

Sensing nothing, Derek looks back to the fox, who noses at the hoodie, then jumps up again before tugging at Derek's pant leg.

"Should I follow you? Want to show me something?"

The fox gives up and sits back. He considers for a moment before he darts off as fast as he can.

A growl escapes Derek before he can help it. He tugs off his clothes and shifts with a groan, running full-speed in pursuit.

The fox swishes his tail, almost taunting. With a short, joyful howl, Derek leaps over him, landing in front of the little fox so that they're facing each other. The fox scents at Derek before rubbing its face against Derek's legs. Derek flips onto his back, paws up by his chest, giving the fox room to play on his belly. The fox jumps up on Derek's stomach and nips at Derek's jaw.

As the fox's nose moves over Derek's throat, he goes perfectly, unnaturally still. The fox sits back on Derek's belly, confused. Derek shivers, nearly dislodging the fox in the process. The fox jumps down and lowers its head. Derek gets back up, shaking his head, taking a moment to recover before licking the fox’s nose in reassurance. The fox nuzzles against Derek. The wolf mouths at the fox’s snout again. The fox pulls back and sneezes, his small head twitching. There’s no mistaking the smile that overtakes Derek’s face, letting his long, wolfish tongue loll to the side. He leans in and licks the top of the fox’s head. The fox playfully slaps at Derek's nose before sprinting off.

They spend hours this way--Derek chasing the fox, constantly tackling or pouncing or nuzzling, and the two of them taking breaks in between to roll around and play in the underbrush.

As it grows dark, Derek hears Talia's howl.

Derek stills, ears pricking up. He howls in return, eyes bright blue, before he makes eye contact with the fox to see if he understands.

The fox licks Derek's nose before running off.

A soft, saddened whine escapes Derek, but he only allows himself a moment before he obeys the call.

Talia is standing in human form at the edge of the yard when Derek returns. Her face is etched with worry. Walt stands at her side.

Derek sucks in a sharp breath. Once he’s within a few feet of them, he lifts his chin up, baring his throat.

Talia relaxes at Derek's appearance but her tone is stern as she says, "You didn't answer your phone."

“I was shifted,” Derek murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Talia reaches out to cup Derek's cheek. "You're okay?"

“Yeah. I’m good.” Derek leans into the touch, flashing his eyes as a sign of respect.

Talia matches it with her own red eyes.

Walt slaps Derek's shoulder. "See, Tal, no reason to worry. He just lost track of time, right?"

Talia huffs but her lips pull up the smallest bit. "You were just as worried when he didn't come home for lunch."

“I’m sorry,” Derek says again, biting his lip. “Did you howl before you got really worried? I-I tried to get back fast once I heard it--”

"It's okay," Walt assures him.

Talia tilts her head. "Were you with the fox again?"

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek murmurs.

Talia sighs. "I worry about this shifter being a bad influence. Did you get his name?" Derek winces. “No, ma’am. He didn’t shift back this time. But he seems very…sweet.”

Talia pets over his hair. "Go ahead and get washed up for dinner. You must be hungry. Did you finish your pasta?"

“No, ma’am,” Derek says, barely audible.

Talia kisses Derek's temple. "It's okay. You don't have to be upset."

“He seemed hungry,” Derek says quietly.

Walt frowns. "Did he need food? You could have brought him home for dinner."

“I sort of tried to ask about it, but...when he heard the howl, he took off.” Derek shrugs. “Maybe he’s scared.”

"Maybe." Talia leads Derek inside.

After getting washed up, Derek helps Walt finish preparing the meal and sets the table.

Talia keeps casting concerned glances at Derek throughout the meal.

"So, you found him," Laura comments. "Did you ask him out?"

Derek’s face goes splotchy and pink.

"Leave your brother alone," Talia warns her.

"I think it's good you made a friend, Der," Cora says as she helps herself to a second serving of food.

“Yeah. Kinda different for me,” Derek says, genuine. He pushes his food around on his plate.

Walt's brow furrows. "Is there something wrong with the food?"

“No, no.” Derek takes a bite, looking back up at Walt as he swallows it down.

Walt squeezes his shoulder. "I think there will be leftovers if you want to take some for your friend."

"Walt," Talia says. "It's getting late."

“Yes, ma’am. It can wait.”

After dinner, Laura pulls Derek aside into her room. "I can tell you how to sneak out if you want."

“They were pretty worried about me,” Derek says, putting his hands in his pockets.

"But this is so romantic. You need to at least get his name!"

Derek smiles a little despite himself. "You really think I should?"

"Yes!" Laura shakes his shoulders gently. "You almost never make connections with people."

Derek's smile falters.

Laura bites her own lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like a bad thing. It's really not! I just think if you're happy with him, you should pursue that."

"But what if it's..." Derek swallows, looking down at his shoes. "He didn't want to shift back with me there. He only did it the first time 'cause he was scared of me, didn't know what I was gonna do, at first. What if that's all it is, a fox and a wolf in the woods?"

Laura wraps her arms around him. "Did you ask him to change back? Maybe try talking to him instead of just playing."

"Maybe," Derek murmurs.

Laura pulls back. "If you don't want to, I won't push you into it. I just want you to be happy."

Derek nods. "I know."

Laura points to her window. "Go out my window if you want to try. Your room is too close to Mom and Dad's. If their window is open, they might hear you drop down."

Derek huffs a laugh. "Got it."

Laura winks at him. "I'm going to go watch a movie with Cora."

"'Night." Derek goes to his bedroom.

Talia and Walt both check in before they head to bed.

Derek sits cross-legged on his bed, going over sketches in pen.

Around midnight comes a soft tapping on his window.

Goosebumps rise on Derek’s skin. He drops his sketchbook and leans over to open the window, listening for any sign of his parents rousing as the wind moves through his room, sweeping up his papers.

The same young man from the woods tumbles through Derek's window, this time fully dressed in the rumpled clothes from the woods.

“Fox,” Derek blurts out, because he doesn’t know him by any other name.

The boy raises an eyebrow. "Stiles." “ Stiles,” Derek breathes out, slowly, testing the sound of it.

Stiles nods. "I waited. You didn't come back."

“I couldn’t come back.” Derek’s brow furrows in confusion. “My alpha called me.”

"Oh." Stiles shrugs, as if he doesn't quite know the weight of this. "Do you want to play now?"

“Um.” Derek shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, are you hungry? I’m a little hungry.”

"I could eat," Stiles admits. "What do you have?"

“Lots of stuff. My dad’s a chef, so we always have plenty.” Derek points to the door. “Want to?”

Stiles hesitates. "What about the others. Four others, right? I caught five scents total."

“That’s my dad, my mom--she’s the alpha--my older sister and my younger sister. But nobody’ll mind,” Derek rushes to add. “Promise.”

Stiles squirms. "They're all wolves?"

Derek’s eyes tighten, a small, nearly unnoticeable flinch, as if Stiles had pulled back to throw a punch. “They’re my family,” he murmurs.

"Okay." Stiles nods. "If you think they won't mind. Most wolves, they don't like foxes, it seems."

“Most people don’t like wolves,” Derek says simply.

Stiles scuffs his shoe along the floor. "They make you leave," he says in a small voice.

“You don’t have...?”

"I have someone," Stiles rushes out. "I have my dad."

“Oh.” Derek relaxes a little. “Is he hungry, too?” His eyes go wide, blood rushing to his face. “I-I mean...would he want to join us, or, or--is he a fox? Not that it matters if he’s--um.”

"He's not," Stiles says. He inches back towards the window. "He's human. And he's fine. I'm fine."

“Okay.” Derek clasps his hands in front of him to keep from trying to cover his blushing face. “Sorry.”

"I should go," Stiles says. He casts a glance at Derek's sketchbook. "You were busy."

Derek bites his lip and drops into a sitting position on his bed. “Okay,” he murmurs.

Stiles hesitates at the window.

“Sorry,” Derek says again, numbly picking up his sketchbook just to have something to do with his hands. He doesn’t actually open it, just turns it over on his lap, ducking his head so that Stiles can’t see his face.

The sound of a sneaker being kicked off draws Derek's attention as Stiles starts to undress. “What are you doing?” Derek squeaks out.

Stiles shifts. Once he's a fox, he jumps up onto Derek's bed.

“O-okay.” Derek lifts his hand, letting it hover over the fox’s head.

The fox pushes against Derek's hand. Derek’s muscles relax a little as he pets over the fox’s soft fur. The fox paws at Derek's legs like a cat settling in.

With a chuckle, Derek focuses on the fox, scratching behind his ears, rubbing his belly, running a thumb over the fine little hairs above his eyes. The fox's eyes grow heavy until he finally nods off, curled up against Derek.

Though he doesn’t remember the moment it happens, Derek falls asleep easily, slumping down to the bed like a puppet with cut strings.

When Derek stirs the next morning, he wakes to a very human, very naked Stiles sleeping against him.

Derek slaps his hand over his own mouth to keep from yelling. Hands shaking, he grabs an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and drapes it delicately over Stiles’s body.

Stiles nuzzles against the pillow.

There's a knock at the door.

Derek catches himself at just the last moment from clapping his hands over Stiles’s ears to keep the noise from rousing him. He swallows thickly, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"Derek, Dad wants you to know breakfast is almost ready!" Cora calls through the door.

“I have a guest,” Derek says, voice comically high-pitched.

The door cracks open enough for Cora to stick her head in. "What?"

Derek looks up at her, expression pleading.

Cora's eyes go wide. "Oh, my God," she mouths. She gestures for Derek to come out into the hallway.

Scowling, Derek gestures to Stiles, still sleeping soundly half-on top of him.

Cora rolls her eyes and closes the door. A moment later Derek's phone vibrates with a text.

He’s careful not to jostle Stiles as he checks it.

Cora to Derek: Omg!!!! Who is it??? I can't see his face! I never thought you had it in you! Scandalous. Derek: WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING. He’s the one I told you guys about. He came in last night and shifted. I was going to get us some food, but he fell asleep, and then I fell asleep, and THAT’S IT. Cora: likely story. 👉👌👬❤️❤️❤️ Derek: 😡 Cora: How am I supposed to cover for you? I can't exactly lie to them. Derek: Tell them the truth. Just leave out the naked part! Please Cora: Okay. I'm going to eat all your pancakes. Derek: Save enough for Stiles Cora: Stiles?? That's who it is??? You know who he is, right? Derek: ...no? Cora: That's the sheriff's son you're in bed with. Naked. Derek: Oh my God. Is he Derek: ! Derek: Please say I'm not committing a crime right now Cora: No crime. He's 18. It's legal.

A pause this time.

Derek: You gave me a heart attack, Cor Cora: Sorry! I just thought you should know.

Stiles snuffles against Derek. "Your pulse started racing. Calm down," he mumbles, still partially asleep.

"Okay," Derek whispers, adjusting the blanket so that it covers more of Stiles's body.

Stiles nudges his face to hide under Derek's arm as he falls back asleep.

Derek stays perfectly still for fear of waking him. His phone goes off with another text.

Talia to Derek: I would like to meet your guest before he leaves. Derek: Yes ma'am

After twenty minutes, Derek starts to hear another vibrating phone and realizes it belongs to Stiles, still tucked away in his pants pocket on the floor.

Derek chews his lip before gently shaking Stiles's shoulder.

Stiles jerks awake. "Wha?"

"Your phone," Derek whispers.

Stiles rubs at his eyes. He falls out of bed and crawls over to grab his phone. He types out a text before standing up and stretching, still nude.

Derek averts his eyes, cheeks blazing red.

"Oh." Stiles looks down. "Sorry. Must have shifted in my sleep." He pulls on his clothes.

"There's breakfast," Derek says in a small voice.

"Cool." Stiles runs a hand through his hair. "You okay?"

Derek gives a jerky nod. "Just--didn't want to, um..."

Stiles looks down. "You've already seen me naked," he says, confused.

"Th-that's not an open invitation. I didn't want to, you know--take advantage. You shifted in your sleep this time. It was an accident, so."

Stiles shrugs. "I'm not embarrassed."

"Okay. Yeah, sorry, I didn't--of course." Derek gets to his feet. "There's pancakes downstairs." He heads to the door.

"Awesome." Stiles follows Derek out.

Derek leads the way down to the dining room.

The family is all sitting at the table still. Cora smirks at Stiles. Laura gives Derek a thumbs up.

Derek clears his throat. "This is Stiles. Stiles, this is my mother and alpha, Talia. My father, Walt. And my sisters, Laura and Cora."

"Hi." Stiles gives a small wave as he sits down.

Talia purses her lips.

Derek takes his own seat, watching his mother nervously.

"When did your friend arrive?" Talia asks Derek.

"Last night. He wanted to go out to the woods again, but we ended up just falling asleep," Derek says. "Just falling asleep."

"I see." Talia clears her throat. "We prefer Derek to only go out shifted at night with the pack, Stiles."

Stiles fidgets in his chair. "Oh."

"I'll get you some food," Derek rushes out, jumping up to go into the kitchen.

Stiles gets up to follow him. "Maybe I should go," he says when he gets into the kitchen. "I don't need breakfast."

Derek stills, eyes on his shoes. "They're protective. The way people are about wolves...there’s so much fear and hatred. We're strong, but that doesn't mean we aren't vulnerable without our pack there to protect us."

Stiles rocks on his heels. "I don't really know anything about packs."

"It's a connection," Derek says softly, hand coming up to rest on his own chest without realizing it. "It's always there. It pulls at you, like the moon pulls the water. That's where we got it from." He lets out a self-conscious laugh. "That's what my grandmother says, anyway."

Stiles gives him a small smile. "That's cute."

Derek leans back against the counter, loosening up the more Stiles does.

Stiles eyes a stack of pancakes.

Laura enters. "Mom wanted to see if you needed additional help," she says with a pointed look.

Derek shakes his head roughly. “Got it.” He stacks pancakes on a plate and hands it to Stiles.

"Thanks." Stiles pours a lake of syrup on the pancakes before he carries the plate back out to the table.

“You guys are freaking him out!” Derek whispers to Laura, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Sorry!" Laura whispers back. "It's weird! Cora came down and said you had a guy in your bed."

“Nothing happened! Nothing at all. Sleeping happened, actual sleeping.”

Laura laughs. "You're so innocent!" She gestures back to the dining room. "We should get back out there before Mom interrogates him."

Derek’s eyes go huge. He nods vigorously and goes back into the dining room empty-handed.

Walt frowns. "Aren't you going to eat?"

“I’m good,” Derek says.

“So, Stiles--tell us about coming in through Derek’s bedroom window last night,” Talia says, pouring honey over her pancakes.

Stiles takes a huge bite of pancake. Talking through the barely chewed food, he says, "I thought he might want to go for a run, and I didn't want to bother anyone else," he says easily.

“We’re pleased to meet you, but there are rules in this house, and I expect them to be followed, even by guests.”

Stiles swallows and puts down his fork. "Like what?"

“You will receive my permission before spending time with Derek after dark or in his bedroom,” Talia says sharply.

Stiles's jaw clenches. He nods. "Got it." He pushes his plate over to Derek. "Have mine. I need to get home. My dad is wondering where I am." He stands. "Thanks for having me," he tells the others.

Derek looks gutted.

Stiles hurries out the door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Talia sighs. "It wasn't an unreasonable request."

"I know," Derek says quietly, sliding Stiles's plate to the middle of the table. "I'm still tired. May I go back to bed for a little while?"

Talia reaches out a hand for Derek. "Sweetheart, of course I want you to be happy. You know that. I'd like for you to find a nice person that is good for you."

"I know." Derek ducks down under her hand so that it rests lightly on the top of his head.

Talia strokes over Derek's hair. "You may go back to sleep if you wish. Do you have class today?"

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek says. “This afternoon.”

Talia smiles at him. "Good. That will take your mind off everything. Go ahead and rest some more, then you can eat something before you go." “ Yes, ma’am.” Derek flashes his eyes and bows his head before going upstairs.

When Derek reaches his bed, he sees a note scrawled out hastily on a blank sheet of his sketchbook.

It reads: Meet me at 2pm where you first caught me. - S

[loudsuitlover]

IT

You had met in the weirdest of circumstances. Or maybe not, maybe it was one of those stories grandparents would tell to their grandchildren. We met in Florence and none of use was from there. You had a look at him from your place on the bed. You hadn’t thought living in a loft was going to be so great until you shared one with him. You could watch him work without being a creep and he could just as well watch you cook- or trying to (even though you had gotten so much better throughout the years)- with that little smirk on his face as he pretended to be reading. It was just those things he loved to watch- the mundane things you did, as if you were just another person, those things that made him realize as much as you seemed like someone from another planet to him; you were just a person, just like him, only prettier and smartier and better. 

He was frowning, wearing his sweatpants and his hoodie, and furiously typing away on his laptop. It had been a year since you had moved together after three years of a long distance relationship in which you would see each other as much as possible but still not time enough. You hugged your knees to your chest and couldn’t help the smile. It was raining outside but you were wearing your comfy warm pyjamas and you didn’t have to work and you knew he didn’t necessarily have to leave the house either so it could rain for all you cared. 

He turned his head your way and gave you a smile and it didn’t matter how many times you had seen it, it still made your heart flutter. He couldn’t believe his luck and he had told you so many times how in the world would someone like you set your eye on him? and you had just rolled your eyes and thought he was just bluffing- he had to know he was borderline perfect. You remembered your first date then, when he had invited you to his apartment (with his roommates) to make dinner and watch a movie and you remembered watching him cook for the first time and how he had told you that he wanted to be a cook before his dad got in the way. You wanted him to be and do everything he wanted in the world. 

“I’m so happy.” He blurted out. “I don’t know if I tell you enough.” 

For he wasn’t really good with words. He wasn’t the kind of person who would say how they are feeling all the time. You grinned at him and nodded. 

“I love you a lot.” 

He chuckled. Man, he really was lucky! He nodded and smiled. You knew he loved you well enough for him not to have to say it.

“No hospital today, right?” He asked, just for reassurance that his doctor girl would stay home to cuddle all day. 

You got up from the bed and made your way towards him and he enjoyed the way your oversized pyjama pants would bulge all around your hips and then he moved his chair so you could easily straddle his lap as he was hoping you would. He hugged the lowest part of your back as you did and then you leaned down to kiss him.

“No hospital today, no.” You whispered against his lips. 

Tangling your fingers on his hair you stared into his eyes. 

“I was thinking we could cook some pesto today?” You suggested. “Are you hungry?” 

He hummed an affirmation but after that he just pressed his lips against yours for he was hungry but you looked so adorable and the fall weather, and the fact that it had been already 13 months since he got to live with you, were playing tricks on his mind.

“I just have to finish this essay and then we’ll cook.” 

“I’m actually pretty confident about pesto.” You frowned making him smile wider. 

“You are?” He teased, his hands reaching your butt. 

“Yes.” You smiled, the feeling of his hands on that intimate part of your body already making it feel funny on your groin. “I can cook.” You pecked his lips. “You finish that essay of yours, Mr Styles.” 

He sighed, a grin breaking up his teasing expression, and then he rested his forehead on your chest. 

“Mate, I want you all the time.” 

You just laughed and playfully pushed him away, standing up from his lap but placing yet another kiss against his lips, this time allowing your tongue to taste them a little and earning a soft groan from him. He smiled when you pulled away and looked up at the ceiling as you walked towards the kitchen laughing before he tried to focus to get back to work. 

Already in the kitchen, after having gotten all the ingredients together, you wondered if he would feel the same way when you looked like a whale. You hadn’t even told him yet and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little guilty, as if you were keeping something from him; because somehow you were, but you also felt as if being the one carrying it you were allowed to have a couple days to yourself; to the positive pregnancy test and you, to the knowing, the doubts, the fears and you and everything that was to come after that. 

It wasn’t really the way you had planned it. In all fairness, you didn’t think you would like to be a mom before you had met him, or more certainly, after having being with him for a year or two. After all, you had met him when you were 22 years old, on your year of study abroad, and you hadn’t even finished Medicine so as to think about the future in any other sense that wasn’t academically. 

He hadn’t told you, of course, he knew those kind of thigs you just didn’t tell, but he had known since the first time you had slept together- that you were going to be the mother of his children someday- if you wanted to have kids at all. For he didn’t really have anything very clear. He knew, the moment he had to, that he wanted to live with you. He knew he would compromise to anything you wanted- the idea of living in a country right in the middle of where you both were from seemed fair to him- even though deep down he knew he would have moved to your country had you set there your limit. He was crazy about you, and sometimes it felt as if that was the only thing he knew for sure. 

You could still hear him typing away on his laptop, also the rain hitting the big window on the living room, the water now boiling with the pasta, the silent blender he had gotten barely disturbing the peace. You wondered how you were supposed to tell him, you were probably thinking way too hard about the words just to at the end just get in front of him and tell him “hey I’m carrying something of yours.” You were 25 years old and at your first year as a resident doctor in the hospital and he was 27, his carreer starting to get shape. He would like to be a dad anyway, right? Even though he hadn’t said anything about it...

“How would you feel if a girl asked you out?” “Well, that depends on whether I like the girl or not. I don’t think it changes anything if it’s her asking me out or I am the one asking her. If anything, she’ll make me a favour.” He had chuckled when you had asked him that all those years ago so he would probably liked this news too. “Okay, well, then would you like to go out with me sometime?” And he had said “sure” and that’s how his roommates had disappeared from your dates. And now three years later you were standing on the kitchen of your shared apartment thinking about how to tell him that you were pregnant. 

“It actually smells very delicious in here.” He announced as he leaned his hips against the kitchen island. 

“Oh, stop acting as if you were still surprised I can actually cook.” You scolded him playfully. “I even have an specialty now.” You raised your eyebrows making him laugh. 

“I know, baby.” He smiled, hugging you from behind and placing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Even though I’m not sure french toasts can be condisered a chef specialty.” 

“Never claimed to be a chef.” You whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“My mum asked when we are going to visit.” He whispered. 

You shrugged. 

“You know when I’m free, love. Just set the date.” 

“Whenever I want?” 

“Sure. I actually quite like going up to your mum’s this time of the year. There are lots of candy and she makes the best hot chocolate.” 

“You are hot.” He joked as he untangled himself from behind you and took his phone out of his pocket. 

He had been so thoughtful the last couple of days too, now that you came to think about it, and he had been so careful and gentle and affectionate. If there was one thing you knew, and you didn’t quite know why, was that you wanted to have that baby with him. At the beginning, you had sat down on the toilet with the positive pregnancy test on your hands and you had burst into tears and as terrible as it was to admit it, the first thought that had popped into your head had been an oh no that had made you felt like shit for hours after. It was just going to be a busy pregnancy, what with having just started the work at the hospital and all that, and then you would have to go on maternal leave, right before your career was even a career and then there was going to be an actual baby, an actualy tiny whiny human depending on you for every little thing, and you didn’t really know if you were ready for that. But then after having washed your face, and having had a long shower, the father had arrived home from work and he had placed a kiss to your lips and you had asked how are you? and he had said now better, I love you and you had just known it had been the same way for you now better I love you and it was going to be like that forever so you could raise and love a baby with him. He was going to be the best of parents. 

You were both sitting down on the table, a glass of wine for him you had declined for yourself, which wasn’t anything to think too much about- you didn’t have wine every day anyway. And he hadn’t comment anything and you were both watching that show he was crazy about lately peacefully quiet. He had complimented your cooking and you had given him a playful smile. He was already making dad jokes, he was going to make a good one. 

After dinner you both moved to the couch and you placed your legs over his and he caressed your calves up and down and you rested your head against the cushions and just enjoyed that he was yours to cuddle and closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Harry” you whispered “I have something to tell you.” 

He turned his head towards you in a matter of seconds and it was as if he had been waiting for you to say so for days. His green eyes stared into yours and you gave him a guilty smirk, like the one you used to give your mum every time you had been naughty when you were little. 

“I...” You started. “I don’t know how to tell you this. I... I took a pregnancy test the other day.” 

You frowned a little, thinking dosing the information would make it easier to understand. You gave him a few seconds, waiting for him to freak out a little, but he just kept calmly staring at you. So your eyes narrowed a little as you tilted your head, maybe he hadn’t heard you. 

“I said I took-”

“I know.” He smirked, rolling his eyes at your behaviour. “I saw the box on the bin. Not very subtle, baby.”  

“What?” You straightened your back. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

He shrugged. 

“I don’t know, why didn’t you? I was patiently waiting for you to tell me and look, you did.” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“That you didn’t tell me?” He frowned.

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I... I’m not a woman. I mean... I’m not the one who’s gonna like... go through all those changes in your body and... I mean I don’t know why, very well, but somehow I got it.” He shrugged. “I just hope you did not not tell me because you were afraid I was going to react badly.” 

You crossed your legs, sitting down on your butt, sideways on the couch your were facing him. And you didn’t fail to see his face dropping a little at the realization.

“You really think I would?” He whispered, affectionately placing his hand on your knee. “Why would you think that? You know I love you.” 

“Yeah and I love you too but... We haven’t... We’ve never discussed this. I just... I don’t want for things to change between us.” 

“Wait” Had you been any closer to him, you could have probably felt his heart beating faster “are you... Was it positive?” 

Then he was freaking out and somehow you felt a hell of a lot of relief flooding your body. He finally seemed to get it. Your heart started beating faster too but in that moment, every single doubt and fear you had ever had about him, just fled away. You had never seen him happier. Trembling, you brought your hand to the pocket on your hoodie and got the test out, handing it over to him. 

You watched as the biggest grin you had ever seen bloomed on his face and then he started nervously chuckling and you got a little concered and wrapped your arms around him when he started crying. You had never seen him crying like that before. 

“I’m sorry” he chuckled “Why- Why would you think I wouldn’t-? Baby, you’re pregnant!” 

He didn’t seem to be able to make coherent sentences and so you started chuckling too and you hadn’t realized you were crying until the tears streamed down your face. 

“I know.” You chuckled. 

“But you’re-” He grabbed your face with both hands and started pressing kisses all over your face and you just laughed and hugged him tight. “I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“I love you too.” You bit your bottom lip.

“Gosh, you’re so beautiful!” 

“So you’re in?” You laughed. “We’re gonna be parents?” 

He laughed. 

“We’re gonna be parents.” He nodded. “You’re gonna be the sexiest mom alive, you know that?”

“I’m scared shitless.” You nodded, still crying and laughing all at the same time. 

“You’ll do great.” He rested his forehead against yours. “And I’m here, okay? Like always. We’re family.” 

“I wouldn’t want this with anyone else.” 

“Thank God it’s mine then, hey? Because it is mine, right?” He joked. 

“I hope so.” You joked back making him laugh out loud. 

“Don’t listen to that.” He whispered looking down at your belly. “You are mine.” He smiled at you. “And so is your mum.” 

“I love you and so does it.” 

“Don’t call them it!” He laughed. “It makes me think of the IT the clown!” 

[acrosstheskyandstars]

Book Review: Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

Where to start with this book. I was definitely not a fan. This book was recommended to me by my best friend and my favorite Youtuber. I was convinced that I, too, would love this book. Unfortunately, this book did not live up to my expectations.

The premise of this book is that Eleanor is a 30 year old administrative assistant who lives the most basic boring life in existence. She eats the same thing for dinner every day (cold pasta with pesto), has the same weekly commute (stopping by Tesco every Friday to buy vodka), and doesn’t understand any attempt at non-literal speech. You may, at this point, be wondering if Eleanor was written to be some sort of neuroatypical representation. I certainly was. I paused reading to google it, only to find out that the author did not intend Eleanor to be neuroatypical at all. She has explicitly rejected the idea that Eleanor was written to be autistic. So now we’re left with a main character who is confusing and we have no reason for it. Yes, Eleanor has experienced childhood trauma (SPOILER: her mother set fire to the house killing herself and Eleanor’s sister when Eleanor was only 10), however her behavior seems unexplained by that. I can excuse the trauma blocking of her sister and the fact that she doesn’t remember that her mother is dead. Her depressive episode and suicidal ideation certainly make sense with a traumatic childhood. Trauma can do some very odd things to the brain. However, trauma does not make a previously neurotypical person behave as though they are autistic (the condition that is most speculated about in relation to Eleanor). If the author intended Eleanor to have some sort of mental health condition, like PTSD, she did not convey this through her writing. In fact, Eleanor seems to become pretty “normal” by the end of the book. Suddenly her coworkers care about her, she has friends, and she is mentally healthy. While these are all good things, the process of how one begins to unpack and process their trauma isn’t shown in very much detail. This leaves the reader with the impression that Eleanor was able to work through her issues on her own the whole time. She quits drinking after roughly one therapy session. The woman was binging 2 bottles of vodka by herself every weekend and admits that she was not sober at all from Friday evening to Monday morning for the past decade.

The thing that irritated me the most about this book was that every interaction Eleanor has with another character comes off as very stilted and painful. At no point do these interactions become charming, though she does become more tolerable after her mental breakdown. The breakdown in question is of course caused by the fact that she has convinced herself she is in love with a local pub musician that she saw precisely one time. Please note: she has never interacted with this man and he does not know who she is. She decides to get a bikini wax to impress this man that she has never met. Please tell me any other instance of a person doing this. Which brings me to the most painful interaction I’ve witnessed. Apparently some readers find this funny or charming. I found it painful because of how socially unaware she is. The idea that some may find her cluelessness funny is odd to me, particularly if they are reading her character as autistic. I’ll transcribe it here so that you can all feel the pain with me:

“‘Now then,’ she said, ‘what are we doing today?’ ‘As I said, a bikini wax, please.’ She laughed. ‘Yes, sorry, I meant what kind of wax would you like?’I thought about this. ‘Just the usual kind . . . the candle kind?’ I said.‘What shape?’ she said tersely, then noticed my expression. ‘So,’ she said patiently, counting them off on her fingers, ‘you’ve got your French, your Brazilian or your Hollywood.’I pondered. I ran the words through my mind again, over and over, the same technique I used for solving crossword anagrams, waiting for the letters to settle into a pattern. French, Brazilian, Hollywood . . . French, Brazilian, Hollywood . . . ‘Hollywood,’ I said, finally. ‘Holly would, and so would Eleanor,’…‘There,’ she said, removing the gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand, ‘now doesn’t that look so much better!’ She passed me a hand mirror so I could look at myself. ‘But I’m completely bare!’ I said, horrified.‘That’s right, a Hollywood,’ she said. ‘That’s what you asked for.’I felt my fists clench tight, and shook my head in disbelief. I had come here to start to become a normal woman, and instead she’d made me look like a child.‘Kayla,’ I said, unable to believe the situation I now found myself in, ‘the man in whom I am interested is a normal adult man. He will enjoy sexual relations with a normal adult woman. Are you trying to imply that he’s some sort of paedophile? How dare you!’She stared at me, horrified. I had had enough of this.‘Please, leave me to get dressed now,’ I said, turning my face to the wall.She left and I climbed down from the couch. I pulled my trousers on, consoled by the thought that the hair would surely grow back before our first intimate encounter. I didn’t tip Kayla on the way out.”

Every time Eleanor interacted with another person, it was this painful. Perhaps the height of her outlandishly bad social awareness was the scene where an old man collapses on the street and her coworker rushes to help. She is taken aback that her coworker wanted to help the elderly man who was unconscious on the sidewalk, and then also is frustrated that calling an ambulance throws off her evening plans (going to Tesco to buy two bottles of vodka to drink herself silly through the weekend).

Eleanor definitely needed help, and I’m glad she got it. Post-breakdown Eleanor was the best she got in the book. My main problem with the book is squarely placed on the character of Eleanor. She is unlikable, unrelatable, and frankly unrealistic. I think the moral of this story is that everyone can have different tastes, given how many people liked this book.

I’d also like to link to a post that goes into a more in-depth discussion of Eleanor’s possible autism and possible mental illnesses: https://penchant.blog/2019/08/19/eleanor-oliphants-story-and-why-it-doesnt-belong-to-the-author-who-wrote-it/

Check out my blog: https://acrosstheskyinstars818513457.wordpress.com

[floral-on-main]

I Would Dye For You

Summary: Lydia needs to re-dye her hair. She gets some help from the resident Ghost with the Most. It goes surprisingly well, all things considered. A sequel to Back To My Roots (No ship!)

Also on ao3. Words: 2279

Getting the hair dye was easy enough. No petty theft or step-mother begging needed. All it took was to ask her dad to pick it up on a grocery run. Then 3 to 5 business days later, Lydia had her box of black dye in hand. She couldn't help but think back to Beej's off hand comment about dyeing his own hair. She had no idea why a demon with color changing hair would want to dye it, but it couldn't hurt to indulge him.

Yes it could. Lydia knew it could, but this seemed relatively harmless.

So on her next mother-daughter bonding activity with Delia the two went to the mall. Of course Delia had to check out the recently opened shop of Spiritual Wellness. And of course Lydia had to go into the store that was blaring metal music and lined with walls with even more metal. She passed by another row of piercings before coming across a lone stand of hair products.

On the shelf was brushes shaped like skulls, neon colored hair clips, animal eared headbands, and a sizable selection of hair dyes. The majority were various shades of black, but a couple stood out with obnoxious packaging and color. Green, red, blue, purple, all colors she had already seen on BJ. She doubt there would be much of an impact if his hair  didn't look any different. It was then she noticed a single box of pink dye stowed in the back behind the red.

Before she could second guess her actions, she purchased the bubblegum pink dye. Delia was near the entrance of the store perusing the crystal jewelry on display. From the look on her face, it seemed she didn't appreciate how almost none of the jewelry had actual stones and was just colored plastic. For once Lydia had to agree with her.

The ride home was quiet, almost pleasant. Lydia and Delia still didn't agree on most subjects, but they were growing closer. A family disaster would do that to people. Lydia now near that Delia wasn't naive or air-headed, just sickeningly optimistic.

As she raced inside Delia wished her the best of luck. It seemed Delia always had to get the last word in when parting. Lydia threw the door open to her room to find it thankfully empty. She knew Beetlejuice would show up eventually, but she didn't want his help right now. She placed the box of pink dye on her bed before grabbing the black dye from her wardrobe. Before leaving, she made sure to leave a note besides the dye that read 'For you. DO NOT EAT'.

Gloves on and brush in hand, Lydia was ready to rid herself of her loathsome roots. The only thing stopping her was the sound of moping on the other side of the bathroom door. Looks like Beej found her note. She took a deep, calming breath before kicking open the door. The sound of a surprised yelp soothed something primal inside her. Serves him right.

Lydia and Beej glared at each other in various states of ridiculousness. One knocked on his ass in a grungy suit, the other in a black stained floral robe and cheap plastic gloves.

“Give me ten minutes and then I'll do yours.”

Beej gave her a thumbs up. With that, she shut the door and made quick work of covering her roots. Beetlejuice leaned against the wall beside the door. He knew he was being a nuisance and he reveled in it. But he honestly did want her to finish up so he could get his hair done. God-slash-Satan, he really hoped the dye stuck in his hair. His suit could stain and he didn't want to look like he took a dip in Pepto Bismol. Never again.

The door opened just a sliver. Lydia's eye could be seen from the crack. Beej gave her big ol' puppy dog eyes, complete with dog tags and being housebroken. “Come in. Keep still or I <i> will</i> tell Delia that you're the reason her crystals have been going missing recently.”

“I told you that in confidence! But I understand where you're coming from.” With a snap of his fingers Beetlejuice was hogtied on the floor.

“Why are you like this?” She rolled her eyes while placing the box's contents on the counter. She donned the crappy gloves and mixed the dye with practiced skill. Beej hovered over her shoulder to see what she was doing, now free of his conjured bonds.

“Sit down, BJ. This is gonna take a while.” With a theatrical groan Beetlejuice sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Despite his normal jittery behavior, Beej managed to stay relatively skill as Lydia brushed in the heavily pigmented color. He even stayed quiet until Lydia was done. “Now we just have to wait,” she checked the box, “thirty minutes”.

That broke the flood gates and the two fell into their usual conversation topics. The main highlight being the chaos in the Deetz-Maitland household.

“I don't see why Chuck got so bent outta shape about Ginger visiting. Her dancing could use some work, but as far as spiders go, she's harmless.”

All Lydia could do was nod in agreement.

“She has nothing on that giant motherfucker Donna found in the closet.”

“Weren't you the one that put it in there?”

“Yeah, but that isn't the point, Lyds.”

Lydia washed her hair in the sink while continuing their conversation. “Bertha got braces recently.”

“What did she break? I didn't take her as the cool type.”

“Braces on her teeth, asshole. Also, breaking bones isn't cool. It's painful.”

“I've broken tons of bones in the name of a good time. You breathers got plenty of bones, doesn't matter if you break a couple.”

“Just because bones heal and carpets can be replaced doesn't mean we should go crazy stupid.” A brief moment passed. “We need to wait until we're alone, at least.”

The timer on Lydia's phone went off. She grabbed the shower head and brandished it it like a knife. “Now lean back so I can wash that excess out of your hair.”

His eyes narrowed. “Over my undead body.”

Just as he made a move to get up, his face was doused in lukewarm water. In that instant Beetlejuice resigned himself to, he shuddered, getting clean. Or his hair getting clean at least. Only two people could get him to willingly bathe and they were both dead.

After seven minutes, Beej was released to shake out his hair. Lydia was honestly surprised that no one came up to check on the sound of a cat being drowned. Looks like everyone had gotten somewhat desensitized to their shenanigans.

The time on her phone said dinner would be ready soon. Might as well head down now and get the questions out of the way. She met Beej at the end of the hall. How the fuck did he manage to get his hair dry already? Whatever, it's probably demon magic.

The dye seemed to be holding in pretty well. There wasn't a single splotch of pink on his hands or his suit. Could all dead people dye their hair? Was a demon thing, a demon that was alive for thirty seconds thing, or just a Beetlejuice thing?

The two descended the stairs in silence, after a quick shove match.

Delia was the first to notice the pair. She set the salad bowl alongside the plate of what looked like green spaghetti. She quickly took a seat with the rest of the adults, mentally preparing herself for whatever would come next. At the same time, Lydia and Beetlejuice prepared themselves for what the family had to say.

The most surprised actually seemed to be Delia. If she thought Lydia was going to use pink dye on herself Delia was delusional. Charles did a double take, but aside from that he didn't act out of the ordinary. It seemed he had already gotten used to the unusual happenings of his family. Lydia and Beetlejuice would have to set something on fire next week to keep him on his toes.

The Maitlands had absolutely no reaction. No gasps of surprise. No lecture about dyeing a violent demon's hair. Not even words of enthusiastic encouragement. The two ghosts just sat at the table and made polite conversation.

Beetlejuice took his now customary seat across from the Maitlands. The three dead members acted just like they normally did. That was somehow the most strange and abnormal thing Lydia had witnessed all day.

The food was tasty, even the pesto pasta. Of course Beej made a comment about its resemblance to moldy worms. Dinner as usual.

The semi-awkward, semi-peaceful silence was surprisingly broken by Charles. “Your hair looks exceptionally vibrant tonight, Mr. Juice.”

For some reason, Adam and Barbra broke into a fit of poorly concealed giggles. Lydia shot a confused look at Beej. He shrugged, but clearly knew something.

She pushed the salad around her plate, acting as nonchalant as possible. “I helped him dye it earlier.”

That got a reaction out of the Maitlands. They both looked confused and then looked at Beetlejuice. Hopefully their couple's telepathy wasn't rubbing off on him. It was weird enough how they always seemed to know what the other was thinking.

“I figured Beej wouldn't want a color he couldn't replicate naturally, so I picked up some bubblegum pink. It was obnoxious enough to fit his personality.” While everyone looked at Lydia, Beetlejuice stuck his tongue out at her.

The Maitlands got a twinkle in their eyes. Now a more common sight since Beetlejuice started hanging around. Adam said, “Pink is a good color on you, cuddlebug.” After that, Barbra either winked or had a muscle spasm in her eye.

For awhile she had figured her ghost-parents had a thing for Beej (she knew he certainly had a thing for them), but this was the final nail in the coffin. She wanted to gag. It felt wrong, but also right, which made it feel even more wrong.

Lydia was pulled from her thoughts by Barbra making a comment. “So it was just dye. And here we thought you were just happy to see us.”

It was with dawning horror that Lydia realized the Maitlands saw a different side of Beetlejuice than anyone else in the family. A more romantic and caring side. The comical sight of the nastiest dead guy she knew with pink hair wasn't worth it anymore. She would never get back her childhood innocence.

After that dinner passed in a blurry haze. Before she knew it, Lydia was back in her room actually looking forward to doing homework. It was mind numbing work, but it was the perfect thing to take her mind off the romantic relationships of her family members.

Things were changing. Like the rug had been pulled out from under her. What if Beetlejuice wouldn't want to hang out with her anymore? What if the Maitlands stopped helping her with homework? Lydia knew it was irrational. Her family loved her and always would. But deep down a dark feeling grew somewhere behind her diaphragm. It was a sick feeling. One that told her she would be unneeded, unwanted. That her family would move on and forget about her.

As if on cue Beetlejuice appeared in her room, hair still as pink as when she first dyed it. He was smiling an impossibly wide toothy smile. Something was behind his back.

“Ta Da!” He held out a box wrapped in pinstriped paper. A slime green bow completed the look. “Happy six month friend anniversary!”

Lydia took the small box from his open hands. A whole different type of tears threatened to spill. She hastily ripped off the paper and ribbon to reveal a matte black box underneath. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek as she removed the lid.

Inside, nestled among red satin, was a switchblade. She picked it up. The engraving on the handle's side immediately caught her attention. In curvy sliver writing it said, 'BFFFFs Forever'. She felt something warm bloom in her chest. Time to deflect with sarcasm. “ You do know you just gave me an implement to stab you with, dumbass.”

“Well, I was hoping you would stab other people. Y'know, for when I can't be there to protect you, ya little gremlin.” He reached out to ruffle her hair, a nasty habit picked up from Adam, but she managed to quickly move away.

With a pout Beetlejuice pulled his hand back. “Glad you liked the gift, scarecrow.” He tugged at his collar as if to stall for time. “And thanks for dyeing my hair. It really means a lot to me.” After that almost heartfelt confession he switched gears to cover up his vulnerability.

He patted down the lapels of his suit, slicked back his pink hair, and placed a hand over where his heart would be. “Now if you excuse me, A-Dog and B-Town wanted to speak to me about something. If you hear groaning and chains rattling just ignore it.” And with the toss of a smoke bomb, Beetlejuice was gone.

If Beej mentioned anything about his sex life she was definitely going to make use of that switchblade. Good thing his brain to mouth filter recently got an upgrade called Maitlands 2.0.

It seemed like some things never changed. Damn being alive was hard, but it didn't seem like being dead would be that different. Lydia just had to stick around and see.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Sexy panties to dirty nappies II/? [ Ben Hardy x F!Reader ]

Words : 3,300 K +

Warnings : language, pregnancy, fluff, nervous futur parents, cute dog

Summary : Reader is eight months pregnant. The only problem ? She just find out. Yep, pregancy denial. Now they only got a month to be ready for the baby. Ready…steady…go !

Note : here is part 2 ! I’m really having fun with this cute fic, reader and ben start to realise that the baby is coming really soon, a bit of panick and fluff moments

Masterlist & Requests

@/ none of these gifs are mine xx

The first next three days you and Ben stayed at home. You didn’t do a lot, couldn’t sleep or thought about something else than the elephant in the room. You were on maternity leave, yeah your boss was for the least surprised. Ben had few weeks of break but he called his agent and announced the...unexpected new. At first he thought he was doing that to earn few more weeks for sunny holidays but when the blond almost had an panick attack during the phone call he believed him. His planning was lighter than before, he will not have new castings but he still did have obligations, pregnancy surprise or not. But it could be worse.

You spent these days eating and watching t.v, kicking Ben’s ass at video games, pretending nothing was going on in your belly. But on the fourth day you couldn’t ignore it, you were, to say at least, plump.

“Are you sure you not excepting twins (Y/N) ?” Ben was sitting next to you in bed, looking terrified by your swollen tummy. You did change a bit during these past days but this night...you reached your fully eight-months look. It was fucking strange. You went to sleep with a cute little belly to waking up with a round and imposing belly.

“I am not, Benjamin” You scoffed. “The doctor said it was only one baby and that more than enough” He pinched his lips and you both jumped when the baby started moving. Their movements clearly visible on your bare skin, both of your gazes following every of their gestures, eyes wide opened.

The baby did move these last day but never that much. It was pretty scary.

“It look like an alien about to rip off your stomach to get out of here” Commented the blond, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly in his throat.

“I know” You whined. “I want this baby out of me” You complained with a groan as they kicked harshly than before.

“I’m sorry babe” Ben grabbed your hand and pressed it gently, his face was very pale.  “What we are gonna do ? We have a billion things to buy before this kid is coming and I need to call my mom, holy shit, that wasn’t the plan at all” He scratched his unshaven chin, it did happen when he was home for few weeks, he was lazier about his appearance and you didn’t mind it but these days was just because he was incapable of doing anything else than staring at your growing belly.

“We should do a list” You looked around the room, it was messy and really need a good cleaning. You thought about the pile of dirty laundry waiting in the bathroom. And the other one of greasy dishes in the sink. The small bag of weed and rolling paper on the coffee table. The household products under the sink, easy to grab. So many changes were required. In a such short amount of time.

Ben came back in bed with a little notebook and a pen, sighing deeply.

“Okay baby, what do we need to buy in first ?” He wrote To buy urgently!!! on the top of the page and underlined it multiple times.

“We need nappies, wipes, baby clothes” You enumerated the first things that crossed your mind when you thought about a baby. Ben nodded and quickly wrote all your ideas. “Fuck, we need a bed for this baby and...a fucking stroller ?” You grimaced and gently massaging your temples. “Can you grab my laptop, we gonna order everything we can online. I’m not in state to wondering around for hours in all these baby shops”

The blond picked your laptop from the end of the bed and switched it on. He tapped few words on the keyboard and the screen quickly filled with a sparkling big tittle Baby Paradise, rainbows and teddy bears all around. You both swallowed sickly at this view.

“Alright, nappies...jesus these so many different sorts of” Ben scrolled through the page, biting nervously his lips. Few days ago you were scrolling to find a nice travel destination for your week of holiday in two months, well it seemed rather compromised now. “This one ? No. 1 Newborn nappy with features specially designed for the comfort and protection of newborns, up to 12 hours protection, perfect for day and night usage...Sound good ?”

“I guess...” You shrugged and rested your head on his bare shoulder, he added five box of these nappies to the basket. “Good, one thing done. Only a billion more to do” You joked...but not really.

Your boyfriend chuckled, putting a kiss on your hairs as a big ad invaded the screen. Nappy Rash Cream.

“The fuck is that now ?” He clicked on it and apparently you couldn’t not buying some of it. For soft and non-irritating baby bottom. “This shit is fucking expensive” He mumbled but put it in the basket anyway.

“It’s because you pick a bio label, Benny” You snorted and he rolled his eyes.

“Like I would let my kid have some shitty cream because it’s cheaper, no way” The way he said my kid warmed your heart a bit. The idea of Ben with a baby in his arm was less scarier. But only a tad. “Thanks god we have good salaries because this child gonna cost us an arm and a leg”

“I think your right” You sighed and checked the list. “We need wipes to clean the little bum of this baby”

After an hour of shopping about every essential baby stuffs like bottles feeding, newborn bath products, an easy-to-use thermometer, a little bath tub exclusively for baby and other things that you didn’t even know you needed like a freaking baby nails trimmer or a dozen of pack of water bottles because – you just learnt it but it did make sense – babies didn’t drink water from the tap as they were fragile tiny person, only clean and proper water. You checked on your phone and the baby wasn’t supposed to drink water before six months at least as he was going to drink your milk. But Ben insisted. It’s done, we can keep it in the empty closet in the kitchen.

It took you the entire morning, deciding between this label and this one, if you should pick the bottle feeding with bees on it or bunnies...yes that an argument you didn’t imagine having with Ben but life was full of surprise. You put your childish behaviour on your pregnancy hormones. At the end Ben added a pack of bees bottles and bunnies’.

“I really need to pee” You pouted and Ben closed the laptop with a dramatic grimace.

“It’s only the forty times this morning” He teased and made his way to you, getting up and walking was still a bit weird for you. In only few days you had to adapt to a massive weight, pulling you down, it was so strange. He helped you reach the bathroom, his arms supporting you protectively.

“M’ gonna cook I’m starving, fancy something special baby ?...and my other baby, of course” He winked playfully, glancing at your swollen belly.

You giggled a bit and carefully rubbed your bump, your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the baby immediately reacting to your tender gesture. You barely interact with this little human since you learnt about it, it wasn’t fair for this baby but it was so scary...You promised yourself to make more effort, to bound with this upcoming child.

“Can you make me your tomatoes and pesto sandwich ?” You asked as you slowly took your pyjama pants off and sat on the toilet seat. Ben always offered you his help but you wanted to do the most you could by yourself.

“Only a sandwich ? Baby, this little alien need more than that” The mother hen was back and you cheekily smiled.

“Well, I wasn’t finish Benny boy. I’m gonna eat this sandwich, meanwhile you, pretty boy, gonna cook your delicious pasta, the one with marinara sauce. Please ?”

“Gimme fifteen minutes” He winked at you and left for the kitchen.

You were laying on the sofa, stuffing food in your mouth like you didn’t eat for a week. You immediately felt better but you were still hungry, waiting patiently for the pasta.

“Alright, here the pasta for the two babies” He put a giant pasta plate in front of you, fuming and smelling incredibly good. You slowly sat up correctly and grabbed the dish, drooling at this perfect sight. “I also bring the doctor envelope, thought that it would be easier to buy baby clothes if we knew the sex, no ?”

You nodded as an answer, your mouth to busy munching your meal to reply vocally. Ben took a deep breath and opened the envelope, his face a little tense.

“Girl” He cleared his voice and repeated louder. “It’s a girl, you...we’re expecting a baby girl” He smiled nervously as you quickly swallowed your bite.

“That’s...great” It sounded more like a question but the whole situation was still feeling like a prank sometimes. “Are you happy ? Or you wanted a boy ?”

You stared at each other for few seconds before both of you bursted in laugh at your last words. Neither of you wanted a girl or a boy. The closest thing to a baby that you could have wanted was another puppy but even that you had decide to wait, a dog was already a lot of work to take care of. You were so relieved you didn’t take another dog.

“I...to be honest, I never think about that. Kids in the future yes, but the sex...it doesn’t really matter ya know ?” He shrugged as his cheeks were a bit flushed. “I guess, a girl, it’s good. Easier than a boy, right ? Calmer”

You snorted, very amused by his naivety.

“Ben, baby. Maybe in films, the cute little girl with pretty blue eyes and braided blond hairs love playing with her doll, eat all her vegetables and said I love you to her parents every night but in real life, it doesn’t last longer than ten minutes” You pinched your lips, repressing a laugh at his wide and scared eyes. “When I was little, I was a monster, terrorising all the boys in my school”

“What are you telling me that ? Do you really want me to cry or what ? Because I will if you keep going doing this” He whined, shoving a fork full of pasta in his mouth. “But at least I’m not going to have this horrible conversation about these awkward hard-on you can get anywhere and anytime. I’m still traumatising by my dad’s conversation.”

“More traumatising than the day you get hard when you saw your older cousin in bikini ?” You teased with a cocky smile, you knew it was one of the most embarrassing moment of his life. Comprehensible. “Because you know your granny still remembered”

“I was thirteen years old, jesus ! Stacy can’t still not look me in the eyes”

“You’re such a drama queen Benny” You pressed a light kiss on his cheek before digging back in your plate.

“We will see who’s gonna be the drama queen when the kid gonna start bleeding” He chatted back with a smirk.

You dropped your fork and felt a wave of panic crashed through your body.

“Oh my god, you’re right !” You put the plate away and hid your face in your hands, tears sliding freely on your cheeks. “No, I want to change ! I want a boy Ben !”

The blond frowned and reached for your face, surprised and worried of your sudden change of mood.

“Babe, I was just kidding, a girl is awesome !” He tried to cheer you up, a bit guilty for you state.

“But you were right ! I was so scared when I get my first period and fuck, this is so painful ! I’m not ready to explain her that...and what about her first time ? I’m gonna need to talk to her about sex with boys...or girls ! Shit I don’t know–”

Ben stopped your rambling, grabbing softly your face and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“(Y/N), my love, breath okay ? You’re not alone in all of this, I’m here. I will do whatever I can to help you raising our little girl” You sniffled a bit and slowly calmed down. “Plus, I think we have few more years before worrying about all that, right ?” A noise between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat as you shook your head, he was right. “Can you stop crying now, baby ? You know I hate seeing you like that”

“I can’t, I swear Ben I’m trying to stop but look...” You rubbed your eyes and immediately tears came back, rolling down your face. “I don’t have anymore control on my own body” You complained but still smiled through the tears. “Fucking pregnancy hormones”

“Sound rather annoying” Ben said softly, his lips lingering during few seconds on your forehead.

“It is” You hiccuped loudly and your boyfriend laughed a bit.

“Would you want more pasta baby ? Would it make you stop crying ?”

“Maybe” You sniffled and gave him your empty plate and he winked at you.

You were so glad that your emotional support was back on the track. You couldn’t do it without this marvellous man. You saw Frankie stood up from her little bed to follow Ben and you called her, always craving for a cuddle with his dog. She looked at you hesitantly but entered the kitchen anyway. You sighed, since the last two days Frankie wouldn’t come closer to you, probably feeling your weird surprise pregnancy vibes that suddenly started emanating from your body.

“There, baby” You smiled softly at the blond and took the plate from his hand. He put two bottle of beer on the table and opened them, taking a big sip right after. “Want a beer babe ?” He pushed the drink toward you, his eyes glued on his phone as he scrolled furiously on the screen.

“Ben” You giggled quietly and pushed back the beer to him. “I can’t”

He glanced toward you with a frown then immediately cursed loudly.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby, I didn’t even think...we always drink beers on saturday lunch” He pressed a sloppy kiss on your cheekbone. “M’ sorry (Y/N), only four weeks and you could drink again, yeah !” He grinned at you and raised his beer playfully before drinking another sip.

“Ben, you’re being rude right now” You complained with a grimace. “I’m not allowed to drink as long as breast-feed the baby”

He almost chocked on his beer and coughed roughly. “Fucking hell, that’s make sense. That’s really unfair, though.” He bit the inside of his cheek to not laugh and you rolled your eyes, he was such a dork.

Frankie jumped on Ben’s lap and cuddled against him, but still keeping an eye on you.

“Frankie still doesn’t let me pet her” You whined and sadly watched the cute beagle nuzzling under her owner’s hand. “She act like she is the only one scared by the little alien. I’m as surprise as you Frank’ !” She raised her head when she heard her name but didn’t make a move toward you.

“I guess she just need time babe” Ben shrugged and scratched her furry head. “Your belly is rather...impressive, still a whole thing to process, ya know ?”

“That why you never touched it ?” You snapped rougher than attended and his smile fell as soon as he heard your words. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude, I know you need time, it’s okay” You gave him a shy smile and looked at your half-empty plate, you weren’t hungry anymore.

The truth was that you were hurt by the fact that Ben never touched your bump during the past four days. Not even once. You get it, this belly was terrifying but still, the baby was here and well alive, he couldn’t just keep ignored it.

Ben grabbed the plate from your hands and put on the coffee table before sliding his fingers under you chin, turning it toward his gaze.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I’m truly am, I never mean to hurt you. It’s just...if I touch it...her...she gonna be so fucking real” He mumbled ashamed, his lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes travelling between your bump and your eyes.

“But she is already real Ben. And she is coming to be out in less than a month, you...we need to create bond with her. We have eight months to catch up and I don’t want our kid to hate us because we were scared” You raised your pyjama top and exposed your swollen belly, placing a gentle hand on it. “She’s awake Ben, please come and meet your daughter”

The blond sniffled quietly and you tenderly kissed away the only tear which escaped his beautiful green eyes. He nodded timidly and put a shaky hand on your bare stomach, licking his suddenly dry lips nervously. You moved your own hand on his and slowly slid them to where the tiny foot of your daughter were pushing your belly. Ben gasped surprisingly when he felt her kicking against his palm, an amazed smile on his features.

“Hi baby” You moved your hand away and softly caressed Ben’s hairs, watching the first interaction between your daughter and her dad, eyes inevitably watering at this sight. “I’m sorry I didn’t say hi sooner...I was so scared but not of you my sweet girl. More about my questioning abilities to be a father...but I will do my best, me and your mom, we will do everything for you to be happy” Now you were sobbing quietly and not only because of the pregnancy hormones. He pressed a soft kiss on your parted mouth then on the top of your round tummy, murmuring sweet nothings to the baby.

You hissed when she kicked harder and Ben immediately backed up.

“Did I hurt you ?”

“No, n– ouch, no, Benny, you didn’t do anything” You smiled through your grimace. “I think she just a bit excited to finally meet you, she’s kicking me everywhere, evil little creature” You joked and rubbed your belly, trying to calm her. It felt pretty natural to do it, probably your maternal instinct finally waking up. It was about damn time.

“Oh.” He gave another kiss to your belly then focused on your lips. Sweet but deep one, showing his infinite love and affection for you. You smiled widely through the kiss, Ben and you could do everything as long as you were together.

Your eyes opened surprisingly when you felt something wet brushing against your stomach. You broke the kiss and lower your gaze to see Frankie, her cute little nose pressed against your belly, sniffing and rubbing it carefully.

“Oh good girl Frankie. Can you feel the baby Frank’ ? Can you feel your little sister ?” Ben – and you even if you won’t admit it – always took this stupid baby voice when he spoke to his dog and you were pretty sure it gonna be the same with your daughter. His excited voice combined with a rubbing on your stomach were enough to drive the beagle wild, not afraid anymore of the little alien. Her tail was wiggling strongly and happy barks were echoing into the flat, she was licking your tummy but stayed incredibly careful, she knew without a doubt another tiny life was inside here and she didn’t want to hurt it. Probably one of the cutest thing you ever witnessed.

“I guess she’s ready to be a big sister” You sighed happily, scratching her lower back exactly the way you knew she loved.

[short--insomniacs]

ooo whizzer for the character thing 👁👁

oh Whizzer, Whizzer Brown, isn’t it delightful playing easy?

- his first name is Micah

- he got the nickname “Whizzer” because he’s an excellent baseball player. he was the pitcher, and the ball would just whiz past the batter. he pitched a lot of no-hitters

- he was a chubby kid, and encourages body positivity for himself and others

- Whizzer, like Trina, is actually very well-educated. he’s also called Whizzer because he was a bit of a “whiz kid” growing up

- Whizzer is the radiologist they mention in Falsettoland, and you can pry this from my cold, dead hands 

- his first degree was in exercise science and nutrition, and he worked as a personal trainer at a boujee gym while he was going through med school

- his main hobby is photography, and he loves to take long walks through Central Park, or Bryant Park, and take pictures of the scenery

- he also loves taking candid photos of Marvin

- Whizzer is a wonderful chef. his signature dish is pesto pasta with grilled salmon

- Whizzer is also really good at sewing, and makes a lot of his own clothes. he’ll go thrifting at Goodwill or Buffalo Exchange and repurpose things he finds, or go to Mood and buy a bunch of really expensive fabric and make the most beautiful shirts you’ve ever seen. he’s also a slut for designer clothing, and nothing makes him happier than dragging Marvin into Bergdorf’s so he can spend a ridiculous amount of money

- he has a Cuban Catholic mother and a Russian Jewish father

- due to his mom, he’s fluent in Spanish

- during the two-year break, Jason secretly visited Whizzer a couple times a week for help with his Spanish homework. Whizzer’s a really good teacher, and they’d watch baseball and talk about life and the girls Jason was crushing on while they conjugated verbs

- Jason calls Whizzer “Aba”

- the first time Jason calls him Aba, Whizzer bursts into tears because he never thought Jason would see him as a father figure. Marvin’s just like, “Of course Jason loves you, you big sappy idiot”

- Whizzer is the one to propose to Marvin

send me a character!

[ohana]

Would you care to share one of your favourite Italian recipes?:)) I always feel that no matter how many cookbooks or internet recipes you read nothing compares to having someone who has grown up eating and cooking a food share its recipe carrying with it all the memories and feelings(and little secrets)that come with it!

Hi! Sorry for the super late reply but I’m on vacation and this is basically the first time I open my notebook :) 

Okay I have one! Farinata of chickpea (a really traditional recipe from my hometown, Genova) with a topping of pesto, cheese and tomatoes. I ate this variant at Cheese, a fair dedicated to cheese and I adored it because the farinata  is very good but after a few pieces it bores me, but with pesto it is much less cloying. And it’s really an easy and quick recipe, you can prepare the various parts in the evening after dinner and cook it in the morning for lunch. Of course you can just make the farinata or the pesto (for a pasta).

Pesto:

50 gr. Basil30 gr parmesan20 gr pecorino40-50gr extra virgin olive oil1-2 cloves of garlic2 tablespoons of pine nuts (I like toasting them but it's not mandatory)coarse salt

The real Genoese pesto is made with a mortar. I use the immersion blender because I am lazy and now I live in Milan so they hate me anyway . But it’s important that the ingredients are cold and also the blades of the blender so the pesto will not look like dark green/black (like the one of  my not mother-in-law) but a beautiful green.I am a bit anarchic with pesto (please friends from Genova don’t kill me) but usually half of the basil leaves, a part of the oil, pine nuts and start to blend are put. Blend for a short time. Add the other ingredients, I add the oil a little at a time to make emulsion and blend. Again: short time. If you want a creamier pesto you can blend more but for a maximum of 10-15 seconds at a time. 

Tomatoes confit:

I don't know if you already have your recipe. I just cut the tomatoes in half, put them on a baking sheet with the cut facing upwards and then add salt, oil and a sprinkling of sugar. Sometimes I put thyme and garlic or whatever I find at home (spoiler: usually nothing). And a little oil. And then bake at 150°C  for an hour, an hour and a half. I like them to be a little bit juicy, not too dry.

Farinata:

For a round baking pan of 30-32 cm150gr Chickpea flour450gr Water6gr Salt55gr Oil

Sift the chickpea flour and add the water, mixing with a whisk, a little at a time to avoid lumps. Add the salt. Cover the bowl and let stand 2-6 hours. If it rest for more time it’s not a big deal. Turn the oven on at 250 °C (if the oven reaches a higher temperature it’s even better). Put the oil in the pan, it's a lot  but trust me. Remove the bubbles / foam from the farinata with a spoon and pour it into the pan with the oil. Bake for about ten minutes and then lower the temperature to 220 ° and finish it (another 10 minutes). One trick is to open the oven every five minutes to let the steam out.When you take it out of the oven, garnish with pesto, stracchino (or a soft cheese), and tomato confit. Put it in the oven for a couple of minutes just to warm the topping, the pesto should never be cooked. Whenever someone cooks pesto, a Genoese child dies.

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

When you get this, answer with five things that make you happy, then send it to the last ten people in your recent activity list.

1. I have the nasty habit of obsessing over particular food, getting very content when I eat it. Coffee, pesto pasta with mozzarella, sushi / sashimi are the worst of them. On the other hand, I don't care about food "outside" of obsessions and I enjoy trying new dishes / cuisines.

2. I love "basking" in water. A nice bath, a nice pool, a nice river, or a nice sea. I like cold and rain as well. Going to a beach during crisp weather in autumn / winter is one of my favourite outdoors activities.

3. Going to school / university (wtf). I like learning and stationary in general, bookshops and libraries, "there are never enough notebooks and pencils" in my study. I am very lucky to be studying what interests me most.

4. I like moving and travelling, knowing new places and their history. I "inherited" this from my mother who is an artist and my father who was an historian. I like old-school stuff on rails like trains and trams, as well as airplanes.

5. Softcore gardening (no fun to be had on weeding of course). Not just flowers, fruit trees too. I’ve just planted some roses and a plum tree. They're growing well and I like "visiting" them at sunrise. I have big plans on a some holiday house my parents own (big "abandoned" garden) that I'll only be able to fulfill when I finish university (€€€€€€ which my parents don't care to spend).

6. Thankfully nobody knows me for real, because this one is a real doozy which I've managed to keep secret. I like going out with friends and hanging out while we're all slightly drunk. I like being with friends (I make friends very easily, any type or any age) and I like talking but don't like talking about myself (feelingz and shit, ya know). A random coffee break or shopping date takes an effort from me because social interaction means I am required to talk about myself. Some friends understand this about me more than others. To be slightly drunk means we're all a bit more honest and more selfish, so I can support my friends while dodging talking about myself. Nobody finds it weird at those times.

7a. When I was a kid, I hada big thrill breaking the rules without anyone finding out. I am an adult now so I can't do that anymore much as I don't have rules. I could break the law 🚷 but being a criminal wouldn't make me happy. 😭

7b. I like a happy and / or fulfilling story. *shifts eyes* It makes me happy when I remember it or revisit it. It is usually what I remain a fan of despite the years. The rest I rage and then quit.