#pam looks happy <3

[aurorangen]

Even when the good people came

Transcript:

[When my mum came home, I told her what happened and she promised never to leave me alone] Payton: I'm so sorry my baby [hugs Vincent close] I will never leave you alone again. [Still, she didn't reach out to anyone for help and was scared to report him, so life went on]

[Work became a place of security for her. Despite not knowing the details, people at the hospital looked out for her well-being. As with me, it was at Charlie's house and I spent every moment with his family whenever she was busy. Like after school, one of his dads would pick me up and I'd be part of their routine]

[Sometimes Pam would come along and we'd all hang out together before it was time for our parents to come. Reading comics, playing videogames or make-believe: my favourite childhood memories were at his house]

[Then came my mum's overnight shifts, which led to frequent sleepovers. I felt like I was part of their family already, his dads were more of a father figure to me than my own ever was. I was always welcome and I felt safe with Billy and Josh. They were Uncle Billy and Uncle Josh to me even before meeting Renee]

[It wasn't long before they caught up on why I was always sleeping over at theirs] Billy: Vinny…is something happening at home? You can tell me anything buddy. [I wanted to let it all out right there, everything that has happened, but my heart couldn't]

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 3)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 2, Part 4

summary: A bad day turns even worse. Miguel surprises you.

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of grief, very vague mention of domestic violence and abuse.

recommended reading: the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, and the song Ophelia by the lumineers.

a/n: i lowkey suck at communicating my "big" ideas so i really really hope this makes sense!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 3.8k

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

they were here, she says,

You’ve had your share of bad days.

Oh God , enough to fill an A4 binder with. For example, knocking out that tooth when you were twelve. A butterfly effect of fuck ups that led to a scuffle at school: blood in your mouth, a tooth on the ground, and a looong suspension. You received quite the earful at home, that day. 

And then there was telling your parents you had dropped out of college. Telling them you were moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend. Breaking up with said boyfriend in your favourite diner; thus sullying Pam’s waffles and pancakes with the bitter taste of… oh-fuck-I-don’t-know-how-I’ll-afford-an-apartment-now. Oh, and heartbreak – although that wasn’t as immediate. 

Scratch that, the day of the breakup had been fairly mundane. Pleasant, even. Jamie had an off day, and you only had a few lectures. He didn’t tell you, of course, so meeting him in the apartment was a surprise. You’re home earlier than usual, and you can’t quite bear to wake him up; slumped on the sofa like an old cat. He’s tired, lectures and clerkships running him ragged for the past few years. Only a year out until residency, with bags under his eyes as proof, and you see him less and less.  All things considered, you’re glad to spend the rest of the day with him. 

You’d spent too long after the break up analysing the days leading up to it: for a sign, something in his behaviour that would’ve warned you. And so, you remember it quite vividly: kicking your shoes off, putting your bag down, and sinking into the sofa next to him. You curl into him, looking up at his face: steady, tempered breathing. Something at your chest, solid and heavy. He looks peaceful, happy; and you haven't seen that side of him in quite a while. 

When you shift against him, you knock against his shoulder. Jamie stirs, groggy, and eyes adjusting to the light. The first thing he sees as he wakes is you; romantic, in theory. His expression is etched into your subconscious; stark and stiff like a marble statue, or a tombstone. A flash of disappointment, lip drawn in what seemed like disgust – but only for a moment.  

" Morning , baby." You squeeze his side, and take his hand into yours. That look ; it's gone almost as quickly as it came. 

"Thought…" He frowns, fighting dregs of sleep. "I thought you would be back later."

"Nope." You give him a smile and he returns with one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He puts a hand on your cheek. 

"Morning," Probably tired, he sighs deeply. You move on with the day. And he breaks up with you, not even 6 hours later.

You had had 4 years of that: good days, bad days, but most of them had been… mundane. Boring. Not quite the heat and intensity of true love, as the movies had gaslighted you into believing in. 

You like the old black and white ones the best. Old fashioned, old-timey folk; declarations of love in tinny transatlantic accents. Suddenly, you’re on the floor of your childhood bedroom; eyes wide at the Sound of Music. Maria and Von Trapp hand in hand: her dress billowing, the flash of white glove on the small of her back. Love, love, love; and your lack of it.

You feel its loss all the same. 

Despite all your efforts – including a dash to the station that could rival an Olympic sprinter – you were late to your first lecture. Sweaty, out of breath, and ambushed with a pen and paper; thrust into your hands on arrival. You look around to see dozens of heads down, scribbling furiously. A surprise test – and you’re late.

Hand aching, you barely finish within the two hours, after bullshitting your way through at least half of the questions. By the looks of the people streaming out of the hall; faces rumpled and grimacing; you’re not the only one. However, it does little to comfort you. You’re sure you're the only one failing so spectacularly, with the semester already half over. 

You'd smacked your leg on the coffee table on the way out and a book had slammed to the floor. An art book, the kind in a model home - and you know damn well Miguel's not an enthusiast. The image sticks for some reason, leg aching as you trudge to your next class. When he gives you that blank look; the memory of men gone past is haunting – dead-eyed, and blank, like eyes cut out of a painting. You wonder if a Van Gogh would feel the same with the brilliant blue of eyes slashed out. 

Nevertheless, you feel like lead. Off

to your next class, and it's going over material passed out the day before; which you didn’t have the time to look over. The professor drones on; voice monotonous and gravelly. Struggling to keep up, you sink into your seat – tapping away at your laptop, whatever you can get down. You pick at your lip, unravelling; unfurling like the tip of a slashed rope.

That's what you’re waiting for, you think: sandbags clattering down from stage left, to bring the rest of this whole farce down.

A sinking feeling, that starts at your chest and makes its way to the tops of your fingers and toes, leaves you numb for the rest of the day. Dread, like a shadow, at your heels in the corridors, across the courtyard, all around campus. Another lecture, and you make it in time for labs, barely, but there’s no time to go over notes; what you managed to scrape together in preparation. And of course , your lab partner’s sick, because that’s just the kind of day you’re having. It’s hectic, doing the work of two people with only the scraps you’ve cobbled together. 

The pressure mounts. Like liquid in that flask you weren’t meant to stopper; and you just might end up like its remnants on the counter. Glass everywhere but where it should be. For a good grade, it helps to be organised: everything in its place, always. Except it isn’t, and you’ve fucked it up, again . It means the results don’t match up in your lab book, and another hour staring at liquid decanting, monitoring temperatures. Staring at stark white walls, with achy legs. 

You step out whilst machines run in your stead, and shed your lab coat. It’s hot and stuffy in there but out in the corridor, you can finally breathe. Forehead on the cool wall, it all stops for a moment. The persistent buzz of your phone, sat in the pocket of your trousers, creeps into the quiet. 

Absent-mindedly, you turn it on with a click. The buzzing stops. You’ve just missed a call from Miguel. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually call, but it’s the little box underneath the notification that makes you pause. A message, from a number you thought you’d blocked – that you should’ve blocked. 

From:Jamie <3

Hey

From:Jamie <3

We should meet. I’ve still got some of your things in the apartment.

Your blood runs cold. Dread, like a shadow; its hand wrapped your neck. You can’t breathe, stuck under the weight of something at your chest. You can’t breathe, the walls close in. We should meet , he says. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world; just friends catching up over a coffee. Like you didn’t watch him carve out a chunk of your heart with a rusty spoon. 

A panic attack, and you’re awkwardly hunched over by the wall, phone in hand. Someone will find you here, lying on the vinyl floor in Block B, spread eagle between lab 6 and 7. Dramatic timing, but if it kills you; you’ll find a way to haunt your ex's ass for the foreseeable future. And Miguel’s too, because if you’re having a bad day; then somewhere out there, he’s having a good one. 

~~~

The apartment is still when Miguel gets back – unusually so. You’re not on the sofa, watching a mindless soap opera, or howling some song in the shower. And he’s had to deal with that most days for the past few weeks, a break in the peace and quiet he’s so carefully cultivated. Rigorous routine, they keep him together. He needed it; the way myth needs a martyr, the way flowers on a small grave needs a body. A tick-tick-tick in his head, that drives him a little less crazy after a morning run, or a good meal when he comes home. A countdown, he thinks, a mechanical clock whirring and puttering with a shake of its gears. He feels them stutter and start, slowing down, but not quite stopping. An ache so deep, he feels its creak with every step. 

Absent-mindedly, he looks around the empty apartment, pulling at his ears.

When he was younger, Gabi would pull at his ears, to get him out of a book. Reading, always reading, whenever he could. At the dinner table, when his mamá would rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon and chuckle lightly at his little grimace. No en la mesa, Miguelito. Not at the table, Miggy. Léeme más tarde – read it to me later.

It was when he got his braces, and picked up a slight lisp. He stopped talking for a while, not completely; but a lot less, not as interactive in lessons. And it was always little Miguel, at the front of the class with his hand up to answer. It didn’t help that Gabi poked fun at him, often sneaking up to him to hiss in his ear: palms pressed together with a slithering motion, and then a strike to his ribs like una víbora - a viper , struggling to say his S’s. They’d fight because of it after, tousling on the floor of their bedroom in a mass of limbs, like pythons squeezing prey. Or at least, until their mamá rushed to separate them. 

She didn’t like it when her boys fought; so they’d been forced to make up every time. He still has the scars to prove it.

Car magazines at first, and then the newspaper, whatever book he had picked up at the library that week. Even with his lisp, his mother made sure he read to her, and sometimes to Gabi as well, at least once a week. Looking back, she was never perfect; the things he knows now about his dear mamá, and her visage tumbles like Ozymandias in the sand. Her mother, married to a piece-of-shit mechanic; and his mother, elbow deep in the oil spill. That’s the funny thing about love, he thinks. Love, and the lack of it; dripping through the cracks, passed on through generations. Maybe mamá felt the gears shuddering in her chest. He hopes Gabi was saved from that burden. 

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him: it’s not enough. Doesn’t explain the little boy pulling at his ears, in Miguel’s jacket and dress shoes.

A glimpse in the reflection of a shiny pan on the side table, and he looks like shit. Eyebags, a permanent scowl, shadowy lines that prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s ironic, crows feet without the penchant for laughing. He thinks you’d find it funny. The pink and purple of a setting sun spills in through windows and makes him sigh. It’s late, and you’re still not home. 

God, you're strange; sticking your nose where you shouldn't. Disrupting the calm of his apartment. A sanctuary, and you've got your grubby paws all over it. Your shit is all over the place; pun-based mugs in the cabinet, chewed pen lids with no pens in sight, a blanket on the couch. The same blanket, a ratty old thing, that he usually meets you wrapped in when he gets back. A creature of habit, he folds it up; trying to ignore the whispers of your perfume, sweet and heady on the fabric.

He gets dressed, starting with dinner; knife on a chopping board cutting onions and peppers into cubes. It's therapeutic, the steady thud ringing out into the kitchen. Quiet, for a fleeting moment. But the worry, it sticks ; despite his better judgement. Before he changes his mind, he clicks open his phone to call you. It rings out – you don’t pick up.

The urge to call again is surprisingly troublesome, so he shoves it down with a piece of tortilla. It sits in his chest, regardless.

~~~

You trudge into the apartment. Squelch seems more accurate, sopping wet as you step out of waterlogged trainers. It was an inopportune time to wear jeans and forget a jacket – and you fight the urge to wring out onto the wooden planks. Miguel would kill you; the place was already falling apart, and water-warped floorboards might just be the last straw.

It’s thundering outside; a torrential downpour you’d just been dragged through. Dragged, half-running through streets-turned-streams, with nothing but a tank top and hoodie on your back. And you must look a sight , eyes bleary and slick with rainwater. The bag heavy on your back goes first, slipped off your shoulder and on the floor next to the coffee table with a thunk . You’re unzipping the flimsy canvas, inspecting its contents. A soaked through textbook, clumps of loose paper. You’re ready to cry when you see what's happened to the pages of your lab book; bleeding ink that’s only half-legible. But it’s the state of your laptop that makes your chest really heave and knees weak.

It’s slick with rainwater, and the sandwich you’d forgotten to eat, smeared across its fans. Caked on, more accurately; an odd sludge that you try your best to wipe away. You put it on the coffee table and your hand shakes as you press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. 

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands between the coffee table and the couch. Everything was on there: photos from senior prom, end of semester projects – your whole life. You have to dig your teeth into your bottom lip to bite back a scream.

Miguel peers from the kitchen, watching your silent breakdown. Quiet, and so still, with only the slight shake of shoulders to tell him that something is wrong. He glances at your half-opened laptop. He’d eaten already, clearing up what remains of his dinner and this is the sight he’s greeted with: the lady of the lake, lain between the reeds. 

He shakes the image out of his head, and walks over. You feel a tentative prod, and look up.

“...I called you,” He says lightly, scratching at his neck.

You blink up at him. He thinks you look like a painting, watery and forlorn, framed in the yellow light of the soft bulbs.

“I was busy,” It’s not said with malice, nor as lilting as your usual sarcasm. Plain, simple. Busy. Your head slumps back into the little hollow you’ve made with your arms.

And so he sits, shoulders brushing against yours. He’s frustratingly patient, presence warm and comfortable despite… well, despite everything. 

You can’t help it. Popping back up, you state, “You never call, though.”

“You’re never this late home.” Home. The word is heavy, knocks you onto your heels.

“So?” You shrug. “Could’ve been out with friends, or at a club–”

Laughter slips out like apples loose in a bag, spills onto the floor. Crisp, sweet; but you glare at him all the same. 

“You don’t have friends.” He says it with the remnants of a smile, teasing. A challenge, and you’re more than happy to accept. 

“ Not true , fuckface.” It is. You'd lost track of most of your friends after moving – and all the ones you made here? Your friends were Jamie's friends, and they chose him  in the divorce. " You don't have any friends."

"I do ."

"You don't." It's your turn to scoff. "It's a Friday night and you're in here, washing up and planning to go to bed at a reasonable time."

"I'm an adult, doesn't mean I don't have–" 

"The ones you fuck don't count." And then you pinch the bridge of your nose. "God forbid, if that's how you treat your friends…" 

He laughs, properly, and you feel it in your chest too: the kind of laughter that bubbles like little breaths rising to the top of a lake. 

“M’serious.” He says it in between gasping breaths and you try to steady your own giggles. "And, I have a friend who could take a look at your laptop, if you wanted."

His eyes flick over to the crime scene besides you. It's sweet, but.. "It's gone, Miguel, I know. You don't need to… try and make me feel better."

" Chula ," He flicks the deep lines forming at your brow. You look up and he says, softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you off of the floor so I can mop up that puddle."

With the way he says it, with that little smile, you don't believe him. 

Now he's got your attention, he says, "You could've skipped that 9:00am. Or just been late. Don't think it would've mattered."

"Maybe." You shake your head. "M'not the best student. I'm blindingly… average. Just wanted it to be different, this year." 

Your voice crackles, leaves something in the air he can't quite name. Quiet, again, except this time it's thicker. Smoke, ash, rolling clouds of melancholy in the little front room. For once, he doesn't know what to say. 

You've got your head back on the sofa now, with a deep sigh. You look at the ceiling, and he's looking at you. It's the first time he's able to really study your features, trace the outline of your lips and sloping cheekbone. Your lashes, damp with little droplets of water, look crystalline in the light. Sparkling. Like the paintings depicted in the hefty book sat on his coffee table. He's read that one, twice , cover-to-cover in a fit of… insanity, maybe. He's not a man of frills and fancy, didn't really get it; nor why Gabi had given him the book in the first place. It felt like a filler piece, something to put on the little table and forget about, or to prop up a wooden leg. But that's not how his brother works, frustratingly convoluted. It's stupid, Miguel thought. Everything had to mean something , or what was it good for? 

But looking at you, here, like this ; it clicks. Reaching over for the book, he leans it against the flat of his thigh. And you see it in the corner of your eye, watching as he flicks through the pages. Filled with art, it's the kind of thing on a table in a model apartment: a space-filler in a false home. When you first came here, the starkness and severity of the space had stuck. To you, the book had only reinforced it. Who was Miguel? A serial killer for all you know, stocking fluff pieces and coffee table books; only pretending to be human.

Finally, he stops, finger over a specific place. A double page spread, of surprisingly good quality. 

He clicks his tongue. " This one. "

You follow his finger. A woman in a lake doesn't do it justice. It's beautiful, but it doesn't mean anything to you.

" Ophelia, John Everett Mills, 1852 ." He reads out the little label at the bottom of the image. "Like from Hamlet."

You shrug. "I don't…?"

"Well, she's in love with Hamlet, and then her father's murdered, Hamlet fucks off; and she's left heartbroken, goes mad because of it , arguably–" 

"I've taken tenth grade English, Miguel. I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"She drowns herself. Also arguably, to be fair," He chews his lip, thinking. "Slipped off the bark of a willow tree, into a brook. Incapable of her own distress, or something. Drowns. Do you know how horrible drowning feels? How violent? And yet–" 

He taps the page, and you come a little closer. Beautiful. She's beautiful. 

"I'll admit it, I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare. Gabi – my brother – is way better at this stuff than me. Drama and intrigue and–" He gestures vaguely. "– love . That's why he likes it, apparently. And I… I know someone who really liked this page; I think it was the colours, or the flowers…? She said it looked like a photo, and that the woman looked so pretty in the water."

He pauses, dead-eyed. He's rambling, only taking a breath to compose himself." I… didn't have the heart to tell her that Ophelia, in this painting, is dead. Dead as a fucking doornail. Dragged through still water, sentenced to death by her passivity and grief – but you wouldn't know it."

Unconsciously, you trace the outline of her hair with your finger; swirling locs that blend into muddy reflections. She's on her back and fully dressed; a beaded skirt billowing out into the water. On her back and looking up, like you were on the sofa just a moment ago. Oh. Oh . You blink at the image. Flowers, peppered around to frame Ophelia in her watery grave. It doesn't look like a grave from where you're sitting, but there's a body in the water all the same. 

There's a lump in your throat. Grief; the loss of 4 years of your life in a middling relationship, the aftermath of dead eyes and brilliant blue slashed from a canvas frame. Grief, rising to the surface like a bloated carcass. You thought you'd bound its ankles to cinder blocks and tossed it in a river long ago. 

"I'm probably overstepping. For that, I'm sorry, and I mean it. But I think there's something else. I..I hear you rattling around at night; and sometimes, when I look at you..." 

Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over. You’re hearing him but you don’t quite understand. Does he know? God, does he know?

"...it reminds me of this painting. You remind me of Ophelia .”

He sighs, turning to you.

“I know how it feels. And I think this shit is going to kill you, if you're not careful."

~~~

He doesn't talk about it. He runs off to start the shower, bundles you into towels and leaves you reeling. God, it's like you've been shot – barely a 10 minute conversation and he's cracked open your ribs to root around in what's left of you. He sees you; wades through the undergrowth and cuts through the bulllshit - he sees you. 

You couldn't even answer. That's what stings the most. 

You’ve settled on the sofa, cross-legged and still fresh from the shower. There’s a documentary on the TV; mindless background to Miguel clattering in the kitchen. He’s putting together some leftovers, even though you insisted that you weren’t hungry, that you’ve already eaten. Well , he had pointed to the gunk caked onto your laptop, wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

He’s good at it; wraps you up in the blanket you always keep draped on the cushions, and hands you a full plate. Wordlessly, because you suppose he’s said everything he needed to. Dutifully, he takes care of you, without a word; the strain of cutting you open on the coffee table clearly too much to bear.

You thank him, and he settles on the armchair opposite, mug of coffee in hand. The gloom of the TV bathes him in light, cuts his cheekbones and jaw just so. One of your mugs in his lap, and he's in a thick knitted sweater. His hair kisses the tops of his lashes, but he brushes it away. You swallow thickly, and when he turns, you look away.

“...You okay?” He asks, confused.

You nod, unable to speak. He gives you a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up like crepe paper. You return it with one of your own. 

He sees you. Finally, you see him too.

_

_

_

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[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 4

Chapter Summary:

“Thank you.” She couldn’t stop smiling, not if she can’t help it. “It’s really sweet of you to do all this.” “No problem. I like it when you smile. Happiness looks good in you.”

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: Swearing, mentions of neglect

Y/n, I’m not really good at writing a note or apologizing in general. I just… feel bad about how our introduction to one another went downhill which I know is my fault. I know it's kind of rude, too to take someone's photo without their consent so, here you go. It's not the best photo but it's not, like, the worse either. And you look like you're in one with nature so the photographer in me couldn't help but to take the shot.  Anyway, if you have time away from your farm, you can drop by at 2 Willow Lane in the morning or whatever so I can make it up to you somehow. It’s cool if you don’t want to if you’re, like, really mad still.   P.S I don’t wake up until 8. Need my beauty sleep! - Haley <3

Spring 10

"Earlier, I was getting my mail."

Haley's chewing came to a halt as George began to speak. How odd. George wasn’t one to talk during meals. She knew this because there was never a time she missed mandatory weekly meals with the Mullners.

Nonetheless, she leaned a bit closer to hear him.

"I couldn't because of my...” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. “Anyway, Pam's kid tried to help me, and I ended up shouting at her." "My goodness, George!” Gran Evelyn gasped softly, placing a hand over her heart. “Why did you do that to poor Penny?" "I— she pushed my wheelchair and touched my mail.” He averted his gaze, looking everywhere but at the three pairs of eyes focused on him. If Haley didn’t know him any better, he almost looked embarrassed rather than angry. “I... I didn't like it when people act like I'm so nimble." Granny shook her head in sympathy. "Still, honey... She's just trying to help." "I know, I know," George grumbled, stabbing his fork into a fried mushroom. "The new farmer even pointed it out to me." He looked up, his eyes boring into his wife. "I apologized anyway. It was just a bad day, and I happened to project my anger onto her."

At the mention of the new farmer, Haley perked up. Not to sound obsessed or anything or like she has been counting at all, but it had been almost two days since she had caught a whiff of that familiar scent of dirt and freshly cut grass that you seemed to radiate even from a mile away. If Emily’s going to twist her arm behind her back, then maybe she’ll be able to get Haley to admit that she’s the one doing the avoiding right now.

The fact that it was Haley herself who wrote a note for you to come by to make up for her rude behavior, and then when you did drop by immediately a day after, Haley would make sure she had plenty of excuses to not meet you at the door and have Emily answer on her behalf. It’s been days and she’s running out of reasons to tell Emily why she couldn’t meet her visitor, and it wouldn’t take a genius to know who’s avoiding whom.

How could she not though?

How can someone recover from a situation like that which was probably scraped off from a romantic script of a movie because it’s too predictable, and cringe?

How can you look at someone ever again knowing you had seen that face in mere inches, breath tingling the cheeks and then act like you weren’t fazed by it all?

Most importantly, how do you act after that? Apparently, it didn’t seem like a problem for you as you were so busy hustling and bustling in and out of the farm and into the town. And if you weren't busy doing your chores, then you were always dragged down by Sam’s little brother to their little class arrangement with Penny and often found you hanging out with them by the big tree just outside Haley’s home which is why she knows not because she’s actively searching for you, duh.

Okay, maybe you did try to approach her, and Haley's acting like the two of you had a one-night stand by avoiding you like the plague. Could you blame her, though?

If it wasn't embarrassing enough, she even accused you of trying to buy her friendship with the daily gifts you gave her, accompanied by that annoyingly cheerful smile that seemed permanently sculpted on your face.

What am I even supposed to think in that situation? Even Alex, her best friend for years, wasn’t consistent with giving her gifts. The doofus often forgets special occasions, but that's a separate issue altogether.

To her, you’re really just an enigma.

And she can’t help but be drawn to the mysterious, goody-two-shoes persona you’re sporting.

She shook her head when she realized she’d been zoning out longer than she warranted. Evelyn is still giving George a piece of her mind for what he did. Haley’s so sure he’s regretting his decision by now opening this topic to his wife.

However, it was clear to Haley who was in the wrong here.

"If I may put in my two cents...?" she interjected, unable to hold back.

Alex raised a curious brow at her but remained silent. Granny, on the other hand, nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead, deary."

"I think George's reaction was valid," Haley began slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Penny touched your wheelchair and mail without consent, regardless of her good intentions, George." And as an afterthought, she added, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice, "And the new farmer agreed with her? She should have known better."

"Look at you, Hay. Queen of consent!" Alex teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "I love a girl who knows her boundaries."

Of course, the doofus would choose this time to speak.

"Haha," she rolled her eyes at a smirking Alex. He sure knows what buttons to push. "Asking consent is a bare minimum, you goof. You should practice it more often." "Hey!" "Hng," George grumbled inaudibly. "Little Miss Farmer did say that."

"Say what, dear?" "That Pam's kid should have asked me first.” George clarified. “But I should have handled it a little better, too. Can't say that she's wrong."

Despite his use of tone, he didn’t sound too upset. More like he’s in between of unable to believe that someone has the courage to stand up to him and tell him he’s wrong and still respect him as an elder, or being mad at this new farmer for sticking up her nose somewhere it doesn’t belong.

Either way, a George that isn’t grumpy is a win-win. So, they all will probably take it as it is.

"I'm glad you thought so too, dear." See? Even Granny thinks so, too. It’s better to have a plate full of her infamous cookies (and leek if you’re George) than to have a grumpy George on your plate. "Here, have some sauté leek."

George's face brightens up considerably. "I thought we don't have anymore from the pantry?"

"Miss Y/n dropped some earlier. Said to help cook your favorite dish. Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

"Hmm... I guess she's really something else then."

"I told you so, dear."

"Agree!" Alex raises a thumbs up. "She even knows how to play grid ball! She's new yet she's already better than the men here combined."

"That's lovely, deary. I hope she also influences you to read those books I gave you. I heard she's infatuated with books as Miss Penny does." "Yes, granny," Alex grumbled against his spoon.

Spring 12

She didn’t expect to see you so soon.

It’s not like she wants to avoid you forever. Ugh.

Why is this so difficult?

Her whole Spring routine is now in shambles because of you and your inability to dress nice, spreading your nasty farmer smell and being all happy smiles around children, elders, and women like some sort of Casanova and it’s infuriating!

“Hay?” Emily’s voice calling out from the kitchen stops her from her silent stewing. Haley was about to get up from her seat when Emily's voice continued, "did you clean the cushions like I told you yesterday?"

Her expression immediately turned sour, “I just cleaned them last week!”

The clanging from the kitchen stops, and the thudding of footsteps came closer. In an instant, Emily was standing in front of her with her spatula in hand.

“Yes, that’s last week. What about this week then?”

Haley rose to her feet, indignant. No freaking way she’s cleaning them again. “I always clean under the cushions and you damn well know it!" She jutted a perfectly manicured finger in Emily's direction. "It's YOUR turn this week!"

Emily scoffed at that. “You’re being childish, Haley. I do the vast majority of work in this house, and you know it.”

Haley rolled her eyes, feeling frustrated that Emily always played the responsible one. Just because she had a job outside the house, she acted like she was the only one doing anything. Haley does, too! She cooks, washes the dishes, does her own laundry, and cleans the house! But of course, Emily isn’t around enough to see all that because she has work and she’s busy thinking Haley’s lazy ass is just lounging in the house doing nothing all day!

“But that’s not the point!” Haley crossed her arms, a flash of irritation on her face. She wasn't going to let Emily get away with this. “We agreed to have schedules specifically for this and you’re not following it!”

Emily's eyes flickered with frustration. “Would it kill you to do them now? I had a rough shift yesterday.”

"You can't just pass off your responsibilities onto me every time you had a tough day at work. We made a schedule for a reason."

"I know, I know. But I just need a break today." Emily sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping.

The truth sets out then. She had a rough night and she passes the job onto Haley and made her feel guilty for it. Never mind that they agreed to have alternate schedules to do this specific job to avoid arguments yet here they are.

“Absolutely no—”

“Hello?”

Of fucking course, the farmer chooses that time to knock on their door.

Emily must have noticed the alarmed look written clearly on her face, making her smirk.

Oh, boy.

“Come in, Y/n/n! Haley’s up already.”

“Good mor—” You did a double take seeing a clearly upset Haley and an equally pissed Emily. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Haley admitted bluntly, crossing her arms. A flash of recognition passed her eyes when she thought of an idea. A good one that’s for sure. “Since you’re a hard worker and all, I bet you’ll understand my point of view here.”

“Haley,” Emily warned. Haley ignores her, deciding to shift her attention to the newcomer.

You tilt your head in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Emily sighs in exasperation, before offering you a kind smile. “I’m really sorry to involve you in this, Y/n/n. Haley,” she shot her a dirty look, “is complaining because I asked her to clean the cushions—”

“— which you should be doing because it’s your schedule, not mine yet you’re shifting the blame to me.” Haley finishes for her. She turns to you, further proving her point. “It’s important to mention that I already cleaned them last week.”

“Haley…”

“Shut it, Em. I want to hear what she has to say. What’s the verdict?”

Haley may seem cool outside but she’s actually hoping for you to side her on this one. She knew she was on the right side. If you were to side with Emily, then that’s like a double edge of crap in some way and Haley refuses to bleed in front of you two.

You were silent for a good second, chewing your lips, deep in thought. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the sisters.

“Haley,” you prompted, voice slow and measured. Haley already knew at this point whom you sided with. “Why not have this be your one weekly job?”

Not that it’s important but it stings.

Haley turns to retreat to her room, but you must have noticed the look of utter disappointment on her face. You grabbed Haley's hand in panic, halting her in her tracks. The blonde couldn't help but freeze at the sudden touch. "W-wait. I’m not siding on anyone," You quickly clarified, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Haley raised a skeptical eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Sure," she replied flatly.

“I just thought it would be the best course of action, so you don’t have to argue over it again. If you took this job, Emily won’t bother you again with cleaning the bathroom every two days. Isn’t that right, Em?”

“Yeah!” Emily agrees immediately. “Wait, what?”

Haley turns and finds you smiling down at her, clearly amused at Emily’s reaction. “doesn’t that sound more appealing?”

It does. She hates cleaning the bathroom with great passion, more so than cleaning under the cushions. If this also means it could possibly reduce Emily’s daily nagging, then your idea doesn’t seem the worst plan ever.

“Alright, you win.” Haley tried so hard to keep a straight face when she saw that stupid smile emerging again. “I guess this can be my job every week. Then there won’t be any reason to argue over it.”

Emily eyes her a bit at her sudden compliance with everything before turning back to you with an almost appreciative look. “Thanks, Y/n/n. That was a great solution.”

“Heh,” you must have noticed Haley’s eyes burning at your conjoined hands. With a timid chuckle, you retreated your hand back as you scratched your nape almost shyly. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Emily suggested. “I’m almost finished cooking anyway.”

“It’s okay, thanks! But I don’t really want to impose.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure my sister won’t mind you joining us. Right, Hay?” Emily raises an equally blue eyebrow at her sister, who seemed to be in a daze.

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

“Huh?”

Your confusion snapped her out of her trance. She meets your eyes for a brief moment before glancing away. “I mean— what I meant to say was,” she sputtered pathetically. “Yeah, you can join us for breakfast.” She forces out a smile, hoping Yoba will answer her prayer one more time.

“Good!” Emily beamed. “Then I’ll get on with it. Haley, please keep our guest occupied.”

“You sure?” You asked one more time, probably noticing the grimace obviously etched on her face.

“Of course.”

“Hmm. Okay, then how about we clean these cushions now? So, you won’t have to clean them later?”

“Eh? It’s fine. I can do that later.”

“I insist. Two pairs of hands are better than one, y’know?”

“Ugh. Of course, you’ll say some dorky crap like that. Yoba, fine you can help.”

You can only laugh at her antics before moving to lift the couch.

Spring 14

She used to like her birthdays.

At least that’s what she likes to think.

What she allows herself to think.

And what she likes others to think.

It’s easier to blend into the stereotypes rather than oppose them and still get judged after.

Haley’s been called names already, all too many to even mention.

Spoiled.

Arrogant.

Self-centered and conceited.

If they are harsh enough, sometimes they’ll call her a dumb bitch.

As harsh as they are, Haley learned over the years to desensitize herself to them. Why allow yourself to be hurt by the same thing over and over again?

Her parents raised her and Emily in this big house back in Zuzu City. It was big, enormous even but empty. Can you call it home when no one cares enough to stick around? When all there ever was were big parties, and holidays spent with strangers she barely talked to, raised like the perfect little girl that she is, given with just as empty praises and gifts just as thoughtless.

Haley is practically the epitome of class and luxury. The living embodiment of perfection. Perfect face, perfect body, and oh-so-perfect stats. She’s smart (street smart or preferably photography smart if there’s one or whatever), rich and famous. Most importantly, she’s popular and has a reputation to protect.

Everything that Emily probably isn’t. Yet she’s the one happier.

She’s the one who moved on while Haley remains still where their parents left them.

How could they be gone though if, in the first place, they were never present? Where were they when Haley won her first photography contest? Did they know the photo was Emily sewing her first design? Haley doesn’t think so.

They are not abusive though. In terms of needs, they never wasted seconds to tend them in the most grandiose and luxurious ways as possible— the newest phone, latest camera, expensive make-up, and all available seasonal designer clothes. Good but not great either. Haley can say they are just plainly emotionally unavailable. They weren’t ready at all to be parents. They were too young when they had Emily.

Early twenties were not even that young, but it was a stage of exploring the world and what it could still possibly offer them. They can’t have all that with children in tow. So, when the opportunity arises, they took it without hesitations. After all, both their children are fully capable on their own.

But Haley needed someone. She needed a father. She needed her mother. Hell, she needed her sister. She needed someone warm, a nicer, wiser person. Someone to cry to, to talk to, to laugh to.

She calls out but the house is empty.

So, tell me. How can I be childish when I’m forced to grow up because everyone already is?

Haley hated them with passion. The crumpled piece of letter in her hand was obvious enough to what extent she does.

Another birthday card.

No hugs and kisses.

No cake.

No parents.

Some birthday this is.

She lets out a dry chuckle. It seems Emily had forgotten about her day. She had taken off at dawn's first light without even a second thought. While Alex? She doesn’t expect him to remember. At least not until later than noon. The idiot, really.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Haley didn’t have to look up to see who it was, but she did anyway. There you are with your blinding smile again. Beads of sweat can be seen forming on the side of your forehead just below a small cut that seemed to be healing well already. Your clothes are lightly butchered, a sign you were up and about on your farm yet the sight of you lifted her spirit a little. 

“Done with your chores?” she asked as you sat down next to her. Weirdly enough, the smell of dirt doesn't seem sore on the nose anymore, and Haley starts to wonder why.

It was a pleasantly warm Sunday. Usually, the kids will be playing here and Haley's glad she get to enjoy a quiet time in the park even for a little time.

You hummed. “Woke up extra early to finish them all.”

“Why? You have plans?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Naw, had to run some errands so I can give you this,” You turned to your rucksack that Haley failed to notice once again. It was bulging. Haley could only catch sight of the color brown before you successfully hid it behind your back. “Give me your hands.”

Haley narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to prank me, are you?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Is it a bug? You know I hate them.”

“Just do it, Hay.”

Surprised at the sudden usage of the nickname, Haley finally complied. She desperately hopes the sunlight would hide the tinge of redness starting to form on her cheeks.

Carefully, you placed a coconut on her open palms. It was plump and perfectly shaped as if it had been carefully chosen just for her. It was even wrapped poorly with a red ribbon that is a bit wrinkly and crinkled on the edges which must be because of how it was forcefully shoved in her bag. But Haley didn't find it in herself to mind. Not when you're looking at her like that as you hold your gift.

“Happy birthday, Haley,” you greeted warmly.

Haley blinked, her eyes started to water, her insides warming up in all ways possible. But she didn’t dare cry.

"I... I love coconuts." Haley looked up. Her own lips betrayed her as they curled up in the widest grin she ever had. “How did you know?”

“Well...” You scratched the back of your head, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Remember when you treated my cut the other day? You made me choose between a sunflower band-aid or a coconut one. So, I kinda assumed they were your favorites.”

“B-but how? You can’t possibly summon a coconut tree at will, or even had the time to go to Calico desert.”

You laughed at that. “It was pure luck, Hay. I just talked to the traveling merchant the other day and she said she had a couple of ones in stock. But she warned me I had to buy one early today or else she’ll run out just before noon.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t stop smiling, not if she can’t help it. “It’s really sweet of you to do all this.”

“No problem. I like it when you smile. Happiness looks good in you.”

Happiness looks good on you, too.

****

Previous

Next

A/n: I hoped I did Haley's heart event justice because she deserved soooo much better. I refuse to believe her mean girl façade is because she's plain mean. My girl is better than that.

Anyway, sorry for the super late update. You know, the usual, due to school stuff and it just so happens senior year is the busiest year of all. Had to make sure I'm complying with all the needed requirements so I can graduate this year.

Thank you, guys, for your patience. Love y'all but I love my wife more <3

[soapywankenopy]

SDV car headcannons

[this gets pretty specific because i've had way too much time to think about it]

1. Harvey

Harvey drives an old, beat-up red Ford Ranger. It's a standard transmission, and the clutch is super finicky, so when he tries to drive other cars, he has a bad habit of shoving in the clutch too hard (or if it's an automatic, slamming on the break, thinking it's the clutch). It was a gift from his parents when he started med school. It was old when they bought it, but Harvey does his best to maintain it. He's not a "truck guy," but he changes his own oil and keeps it running well. He would like to buy a Subaru because quote, "they're very safe cars," but he doesn't use his truck a lot as it is, so he doesn't see a need to get a new car.

2. Leah

Leah drives a silver Subaru Baja. You can not convince me otherwise. She views cars as a necessary evil. It wasn't really all that useful in the city, but she's glad to have it now that she lives in Pelican town. It's well-loved, and it's pretty beat-up, but Leah says it works fine for what she needs it for.

3. Shane

He drives a 1999 Ford Taurus in that weird pinky-gold color. It smells like pizza and pepper poppers, and there are feathers in the backseat. Sometimes, he'll let Jas sit on his lap in the driver's seat and let her steer while he works the pedals. Mayor Lewis caught them once and was not happy. Shane does it anyway because it makes Jas happy.

4. Sebastian

He drives a motorcycle, lol. I admittedly do not know very much about motorcycles, but it looks like a blue Kawasaki Vulcan to me, but idk. (If you know more about motorcycles, feel free to give your two cents)

5. Sam

Sam does not have his own car, but he frequently borrows the family van. It's a silver 2003 Honda Oddysey. The van lands him with driver duty for the band and their equipment.

6. Elliott

Elliott disagrees with cars ideologically. He had a grey 2004 Mitsubishi Outlander that he inherited from his aunt. He sold it before he moved to Pelican town. He thinks it's more romantic to walk everywhere, but if you ask him why he walks everywhere, he'll say, "Because of the environment."

7. Penny

Penny doesn't drive. Pam tried a million times to teach her, but Penny just doesn't want to. She doesn't trust herself with such heavy machinery.

8. Maru

Maru does not have a car but will borrow Robin's work truck if she needs to. Sebastian definitely taught her how to ride a motorcycle. One of her many ongoing projects is a custom bike for Sebastian. Demetrius was very insistant that she learned to drive stick.

9. Abigail

Abigail does not know how to drive. Pierre was too busy, and Caroline never felt the need to teach her. She's happy to explore by foot, so it doesn't really bother her.

10 & 11. Emily & Haley

Their parents bought them a 2012 light green Toyota Prius to share. Haley thinks it's cute and Emily likes that it's a hybrid. Haley says eventually she might buy a blue Volkswagen Bug.

12. Alex

Alex doesn't drive and it's a sore subject for him. Don't bring it up. He might end up crying. He's always said that he would want a green Dodge Charger as soon as he learns to drive.

I have more headcannons about the other characters, so I may put them in another post

[venusjaynie]

Jim Halpert x fem!reader

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, petnames (lots of), Jim just overall being a big softie sweetheart.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's just a regular day at Dunder Mifflin, Scranton. You're at your desk clump that you share with Dwight and Jim, the latter of the two being your doting boyfriend of 2 months.

Jim and you are really happy, considering you've had a stupid schoolgirl crush ever since the moment you started working at D.M. as a saleswoman, which was 3 years ago. However, you're yet to open up about your anxiety to Jim. It's not because you don't trust him, or that you're embarrassed about it, but you just don't want him to worry about you more than he already does, and occasionally you feel like a burden.

A lot of the time, your anxiety comes in fits, and nothing in particular sets it off. It tends to just spring on you when you least expect it, like right now, apparently. One minute you're on a sales call, negotiating prices and quantities, and the next, your palms are sweaty and you can't catch a breath.

Jim doesn't seem to notice straight away, which is good. It means you can just slip out of the room to quickly calm yourself down before anyone even notices that you're gone. You wipe your sweaty palms off on you skirt, and try to take a deep breath, but you're clearly struggling more than you thought, because the inhale is awfully strangled and causes both Jim and Dwight to look up from their desktops. You smile at the both of them, trying to remain as collected as possible externally, while internally your heart is going a mile a minute.

You stand up and decide to head to the break room, without announcing the reason for your sudden departure. Your hands shake as you walk, and you're trying your hardest to take slow, deep breaths - however, you're failing miserably.

Pam eyes you wearily as you walk past her desk and out of the room. She catches Jim's eye as he worriedly watches you hurry from your seat. Pam counts to 10 in her head, just like you previously told her to do when she notices that your anxiety is getting the better of you. She doesn't look at Jim as she stands, and carefully makes her way over to the door of the break room.

Jim Halpert, being the caring boyfriend he is, takes it upon himself to follow Pam and make his best attempt at helping you out, whatever the problem may be. When he catches up to her however, she gives him a stern look, which he responds to with a confused one.

You burst into the break room and sit down on one if the chairs, not noticing Pam and Jim just outside of the door.

"Jim, just stay out here, I'll tell you when you can come in." Pam tells him.

"No, Pam, look at her. I need to go in there and make sure she's okay." He glances at your hunched frame, your shoulders shaking and your hands braced on your knees.

"Listen, I'm her best friend, and we both know she won't want you to see her like this." Pam tries to reason with him, but he looks at her, confused by what she meant when she said, 'she won't want you to see her like this' Why can't he see you like this? You're clearly not doing well and he just wants to help you.

"I'm her boyfriend, Pam, and I just want to make sure she's okay. Is that really such a crime?" He says, slightly exasperated from her lack of cooperation.

Pam sighs and puts a hand on Jim's shoulder making him look down at her.

"I promise you can come in soon, just need to make sure she's okay with you being there with her, alright?" He nodded. "She loves you, but she is obviously going through something, and I've seen her like this before, so I know how to help her." Pam goes to open the door, but Jim grabs her arm.

"If you don't tell me to come in there in 2 minutes, I'm going to anyway." She rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and opens the door.

You look up through teary eyes, and her heart breaks a fraction.

"Hi." She almost whispers. You try to reply, but all that leaves your mouth is a choked sob. She immediately sits down beside you and rests a comforting hand on your back, rubbing in small circles to soothe you.

While you know Pam is trying her best, she's not what you need right now. You try to take a deep breath, and she understands that you're about to speak, so she takes the liberty of asking first.

"What do you need? What can I do for you?"

"I- I just need Jim." You say quietly, and you can see her nodding and motioning at the door, telling him to come in. You can hear the click of the door but you don't respond, trying to focus on breathing. You feel Pam's hand leaving your back and you assume she left the room to let Jim help you out.

Jim kneels down in front of you and goes to take your right hand in both of his, but then he remembers that some people don’t like to be touched in a situation like this so he hesitiates.

"Hey, pretty girl." He says it so softly. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

You nod.

"I know you're trying to focus on your breathing right now, so I'm just gonna do this," he slowly takes your hand and guides it to his chest. "I need you to match my breathing. Can you do that for me, babe?"

You shake your head, the task seemingly impossible. You try to distract yourself by focusing on the butterflies that flutter in your stomach at the pet-names, but that doesn't seem to work.

"C'mon, you wanna at least try? You're doing so good already."

All he gets in reply is an ugly sob. His heart breaks for you. He knows you've been struggling with panic attacks for a while now, even without you openly telling him, and the first and only time he helped you through one, you got all embarrassed and closed off afterwards and he had to try to assure you that your reaction to certain situations wasn't anything to feel shameful of.

You look up at him, and try to take a deep breath as he watches you encouragingly.

"Attagirl, you're doing so well." He starts to take long, exaggerated breaths in hopes that you copy him, and after a few minutes of encouragement, you semi-successfully do so.

Your slight progress, however, is thrown away when Michael starts banging on the door of the break room, yelling nonsense about a sales call that you have yet to make.

Out of the corner of your eye you think you see Dwight tell Michael something and it makes him stop yelling, but it doesn't ease your anxiety.

Jim watches as Michael walks away and then he turns his attention back to you.

"Hey, honey, just look at me." You shake your head in response. "You're doing such a good job already, I just need you to take a couple more big, deep breaths, alright? Can you try that for me?" His grip on your hand never once eases as he helps you through your anxiety attack.

After a while of encouragement and reassurance, you begin to shake less and your heart slows back down to its regular pace, for the most part anyway.

When Jim is sure you're able to breathe on your own without his help, he tries to gently remove your hand from his chest, but you grip onto his shirt tightly. He doesn't seem to mind, and covers your hand with his own again.

"Sorry." You mumble, almost inaudibly. He gently takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and guides your head upwards to look at him.

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You can't stop stuff like this from happening, and I'm always here to help you with these things, okay?" You give him a little nod in response. Jim wipes away the still falling tears with the fingers previously situated on your chin.

He kisses your forehead and goes to stand up, but you grab his hand and a strained noise comes from your throat in protest.

"I'm just gonna grab you some water and a tissue." Jim says, pressing his lips to your hand.

As he walks away you dry your cheeks as best you can, still feeling embarrassed about your situation.

'Jim shouldn't have to deal with someone as pathetic as you.' That little whisper in the back of your mind seems as though it's yelling, not whispering.

You don't even notice Jim walking back into the room as your brain is so consumed with ways to apologise for the inconvenience.

"Can practically hear you thinking, sweetheart. What's going on in there?" He taps your forehead as he sets the glass of water down on the table and hands you the tissues.

"I'm sorry." You apologise again.

"What are you sorry for?" He smiles sadly at you, which only makes you feel worse.

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass." You chuckle wetly. "You shouldn't have to deal with this kinda stuff." You look up at him, and he stares back at you.

"Oh, honey, no. I'm not dealing with anything. You're my girlfriend. I want to help you. And frankly, you're not a pain in the ass. I love you, okay?"

Oh.

"I love you too." You reply, still feeling semi-guilty. You know Jim can tell, but he doesn't say anything. He does, however, grab your hands and pull you up so that you're standing. He wraps his arms around your waist and you immediately respond by wrapping your own around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder.

Jim whispers 'I love you' again a dozen times or so, and you simply bury your face further into his neck, perfectly content to stay there as long as he'll let you.

[astranva]

Clingy.

Word Count: 2.2k

Category: fluff, angst-ish

Warning: None

Summary: In which your baby, River, is clingy to you and Chris is upset.

Pairing: overprotective!dad!chris x mom!actress!reader

a/n: can be read independently.

Planet Evans Masterlist

..

While being new parents came with sleepless nights, chores, and stress, it all also came with so much in return.

Parenthood with someone you love felt rewarding, even more so when you witnessed your baby’s first smile, heard the first giggle, first babble, and got to hold your baby as you all cuddled.

River was a low-maintenance baby; something that you and Chris were more thankful for than anything.

Sure, the sleepless nights were there, and there were moments when he would cry just because, but it was the new norm for your cozy farmhouse to be full of happy giggles and babbles from your 3-month-old.

But there seemed to be moments that caused River some distress—all were moments when he was in anyone’s arms but yours, and that included Chris, too.

Your farmhouse was decorated to the brim with Christmas decorations, bringing the festive spirit to life with stockings, gifts, and the giant Christmas tree you and Chris had chosen and decorated. While you wanted the house to be festive because you and your husband were hosting Christmas this year for your families, you also went big because it was River’s first Christmas.

The house smelled of herbs and seasoning, the air warm despite the December weather and thankfully, River was sleeping as you and Chris cooked. For better wording, as you cooked and Chris helped.

“Baby, you forgot to wash that one,” you said as you pointed to one potato, gathering the others in your hands as you moved to place them in the pot with water.

“Oh,” Chris was quick to get the unwashed potato to the sink, thoroughly washing it, “Here you go,” he said, placing the washed potato in the pot with the others.

“Can y-” You instantly stopped, the moment your son’s babbles sounded through the baby monitor that lied on the kitchen table, “He’s up.”

“I’ll grab him,” Chris said, pressing a kiss to your temple before leaving to head to your son’s nursery.

While you knew both families would be bringing some food with them in attempt to help you with dinner, everyone knew that cooking for people was a love language that you had and Chris liked to remind you that all the times he had to double his workout before a movie was all because of you.

“Look who’s up and changed!” Chris announced as he walked back into the kitchen, your pets, Dodger and Pam, following behind him.

Instantly, a grin was on your face as you washed your hands before turning to your family, your eyes falling on River in Chris’ arms.

The moment River’s eyes fell on you, he instantly started letting whimpers, a frown on his face as he moved his legs.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chris cooed.

You were quick to approach him, putting a hand to your son’s back, “What’s wrong, bubba?”

It was the moment before River was about to cry that you took him in your arms.

And he relaxed.

“Oh!” Chris raised his eyebrow, “All that because you just wanted Mommy?” He teased.

“What can I say?” You joked, teasing your husband before kissing River on his head gently, swaying a little in your spot, “Mommy can’t keep holding you though, baby. I have to finish cooking.”

“You’ll have to settle for me, buddy,” Chris joked, his knuckle softly grazing River’s chubby cheek before grabbing him from you.

At that, River’s face slightly scrunched with a frown, tiny legs kicking lightly as he let out sounds of discomfort that were indications of him beginning to cry.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” You mumbled, “He might be hungry.”

“That’s weird, he usually isn’t when he’s up from his nap,” Chris said.

“Don’t judge him,” you joked, taking River from him again, “I’ll go see if he wants to eat,” you said as you walked away, “Check on the roast!”

It was when you sat down before pulling the side of your sweatshirt up that River only looked at you, tiny and chubby hands moving before his legs were kicked in excitement as he giggled.

You beamed, “What are you smiling at?” You cooed, “You excited to eat?”

But he didn’t latch and showed no interest in doing so.

“That what are you fussing for?” You let down your sweatshirt after a few attempts, not being able to help but laugh as your son continued to giggle, even when you stood up with him in your arms to go back to the kitchen.

“He’s not hungry,” you let Chris know as soon as you walked in.

“Then why is he cranky?” He asked, drying his hand on the yellow checkered towel.

“He’s not, look,” you said, only doing as little as looking at your baby and smiling, instantly making him giggle.

“I think he just wants you to hold him, babe,” Chris said, approaching you, “You just want Mommy’s attention, don’t you? Don’t you, Riv?”

“Yeah well, Mommy’s got dinner to finish,” you chuckled.

“It’s okay, I can finish. Just need you to direct me.”

Making dinner was spent with you sitting on the windowsill couch with River on your lap and your cat, Pam, beside you and Dodger by your feet as you directed Chris on what to do to finish dinner.

But it was when you needed to get ready that it all seemed challenging.

“Do you think these are signs of separation anxiety?” You asked your husband, who held a crying River in his arms while you stood in your underwear.

“You’re right there,” Chris said, “There’s no separation. And-Y/N, I’m his dad.”

You frowned, “You’re right, you’re right,” you mumbled, “Maybe it’s just a clingy type of day?”

Chris stayed quiet, only looking at River as he gently rocked him in his arms to calm him down but no avail.

It wasn’t any later before you blew on River’s face to get him to breathe as he cried and before Chris handed him to you.

It was almost magical how River’s cries were replaced by quiet whimpers as he calmed, tiny hand clutching a locket of your hair as he looked around as if he hadn’t been screaming bloody murder a few seconds ago.

“My ego as a dad is fucked right now,” Chris put a hand to his heart and although he was joking, you knew he was at least slightly upset about it.

“He’s just having a day,” you tried, “He’s exactly like you. Both of you can never get enough of me.”

Chris laughed, sensing that this was your attempt at brightening up the mood. He leaned toward you, his lips finding your shoulder to leave a soft kiss to your skin.

Putting on your clothes was a challenge, but you made it work. You carried River against your chest in a carrier as you did your makeup, his giggles and yours sounding through the room and making Chris have a hard time of not smiling as you played around with your son as you did your makeup.

At the sight of your husband in his cream-colored cable knit, you smiled as you approached him, River still strapped to your chest.

“You look handsome,” you said, one manicured hand reaching to graze his jaw.

Chris hummed, letting his hand grasp your hip before giving it a squeeze as he leaned to press his lips to yours, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, leaning to peck his lips, “Help me change Riv?”

In true Christmas spirit, River was changed into a red onesie with reindeer and a matching hat on his head and you and Chris had a photoshoot for the oblivious baby.

It wasn’t so much later that your families started arriving, the farmhouse soon enough being full of loud chatter, cooing, and laughter.

“He’s grown up so much, oh my goodness!” Lisa exclaimed, a hand to her heart as she looked at her grandson in your arms.

“It feels like yesterday when we were at the hospital,” your mom said.

You smiled, looking at your son, “Chris and I were just talking about that earlier. I wish we can keep him this small forever.”

River, being the happy baby, let out an excited giggle and a kick of his feet as he clutched your sweater.

“Oh, he gets it! He understands what you’re saying!” Shanna laughed along with everyone else.

You all laughed together before it was time for you to bring out the food.

“Can you hold him while I put the roast on the serving plate?” You asked Chris, already handing River over.

“He’s going to cry,” he mumbled, holding him before Chris frowned, “The waterworks are starting, Y/N.”

“What’s wrong?” Your mom asked, “Is he cranky?”

“He’s been clingy to Y/N today,” Chris said, “Cries bloody murder when I hold him.”

“He’s a little too young for separation anxiety,” she said, “He might be having a clingy type of day.”

Chris chuckled while rocking River in his arms, “That’s exactly what Y/N said.”

It was less than a minute before everyone was checking on the crying baby, Chris’ cheeks red at the fact that despite being in his dad’s arms, Chris wasn’t able to calm him down.

“Coming! I’m coming!” He heard you call out before you rushed over, taking River in your arms with a sigh.

“I’ll go set the table with Scott,” Chris mumbled, his steps quick as he left the living room.

You frowned, sighing again before softly hushing while swaying with River in your arms, his death grip back on your sweater.

“It’s alright, it happens,” your mom assured.

Lisa nodded, “Now we know he’s a Momma’s boy.”

“Yeah but,” you paused, “He’s everything to Chris. I know he’s upset by it.”

“It can be just a day,” Lisa said, “Let’s ease into it.”

But as the night went on, River was still adamant on not being in anyone’s arms but yours.

Some might think that that was supposed to be assuring to Chris, but he wasn’t River’s uncle or nephew or niece—he was his dad.

“I’m going outside for some air,” Chris said quietly to you.

“But it’s cold outside,” you looked at him, watching as he only squeezed your arm before standing and walking away.

“He’s upset upset,” Scott said.

“He has every right to,” you said quietly before looking at River who was sat on your lap, “Can you not be so stubborn?”

“Maybe Chris can play with him or something,�� your younger sister suggested, “Hold his giraffe?”

You nodded, “I’ll tell him when he’s back.”

“I’d offer to take Riv so you can check on Chris but your baby’s being a sticking gum and will cry out,” Scott joked.

You chuckled, “I’ll wait for him,” you said, “I don’t want to see any full pudding plates,” you pointed, changing the topic.

It was only 10 minutes later when Chris came back and plopped beside you, giving you a side smile when you placed your hand on his leg and looked at him.

He leaned toward you, pressing his lips to your temple in an assuring kiss before tapping your thigh.

“Maddie suggested you play with him,” you told him quietly.

“Let’s just get the night over with.”

“No, you’re upset,” you stood your ground, “Get his giraffe,” you said, “Go on.”

Chris got up with a sigh and slumped shoulders, going away to fetch River’s plushie before he came back with the same defeated plop.

“Entertain him,” you smiled, turning River slightly on your lap so he got a better view of his dad.

“Hey, Rivvy.”

“Be more excited,” you instructed, laughing when Chris gave you a look, “Come on. You’re an actor. Put some respect to your name.”

Your families tried to not interrupt your moment, but everyone could only smile as they watched Chris put on a show with River.

“That’s a nice outfit, is that designer?” He asked in a different voice, moving the giraffe in his hand before he pressed it gently to River’s neck, making kissing noises that had your baby kicking his feet and giggling, arms wide.

“Is that your first Christmas? It’s mine, too!” Chris exclaimed, reaching one hand to softly wiggle his fingers on River’s round belly, the three of you laughing together. Chris handed the giraffe plushie to River, whose grip was instantly on the giraffe’s leg, holding on to it as he gazed at Chris.

Chris was nervous as you slowly and carefully handed River over, his hands instantly going to hold him against his lap before he slouched lower on the couch, letting River lie on his chest.

Sure enough, River remained calm.

You grinned, raising both arms up, “I’m free!” You joked, everyone laughing along.

Chris reached one hand to your back, rubbing it as everyone got into their own conversations. You looked at him, falling back on the couch beside him, slouched and smiling.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You only smiled before leaning forward, pressing your lips to his in a short kiss.

“It really was a clingy type of day, huh?” Chris asked his babbling son.

[aviradasa]

Drunk Dancin

Elliott (Sdv) X reader

(art from Pinterest)

This was so fun to write I hope you all enjoy! I got kinda lazy towards the end Sorry it's been awhile sense I've had inspo so this might be bad. Also I didn't proof read this shit🤣🖤

Masterlist

It had been a rough day on the farm, the crops were dying due to the change in season, the animals were grumpy even though they had plenty to eat and space to wander, And then to top it off the mines nearly killed me, and now I grumpily stumble to the stardrop saloon.

It's a busy night for the tiny bar. Friday nights are always like that, groups and sad lonely souls gather there to drink, sing, and stumble out sometime past midnight every Friday without fail.

As I make my way inside I see it's still relatively quiet. I walk up to the bar nodding my head to Pam who sits at her usual corner.

“Hey kid you're looking rough, what happened this time?” she asks, turning her head to me with a slight chuckle as she takes a sip of her beer. I look at her with a sigh as I slump over the bar lazily grabbing my drink and sliding it closer to me. “Oh, you know the same old shit. Crops are assholes, and my animals and the creatures in the mines want me dead.” I say lifting my cup to my lips and downing half of my drink before lowering my glass. “It’s been fun,” I say giving her a sarcastic smile.

“Jesus kid you outta slow down there wont be any good tomorrow if you're sloshed,” she says with a grin. I look at her with a raised eyebrow before I can respond. She laughs. “I’m just kidding, the best cure for a shitty day is a drink. If I had any extra cash I would buy you one outta pity but well I'm kinda runnin’ a little short for my tab as is so.. Don’t tell Gus,” she tells me with a wink, I let out a little chuckle. “ Your secrets are safe with me,” I tell her before downing the rest of my drink and calling Gus over for another, which he gladly sells me before I get up from the bar and wander to a table neatly nested in the corner. I sit down and after a few minutes, I see my good friend Leah wander into the saloon collecting her drink from the bar. She wandered to the table next to me. “ well hey their Y/n what are you up to tonight.”She asks as she pulls out her seat to sit down.

I look up at her with a grin holding up my drink. “Girl I’m drinking in hopes I don't wake up tomorrow sober!” I tell her as we both laugh. “ Jeez Y/n what the hell did you do now, don't you tell me you passed out in those mines again!” she jokes with a grin on her face as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Hey now I didn't pass out, but I got too damn close to those rock crabs are the devil.'' I shake my head as I chuckle. “ They keep sneaking up on me and by the time I see one of those things there are 3 more behind me.” I say Leah just laughs “Sounds like you need to buy some armor or something if you gonna keep going down there-” she starts to say before a new voice unintentionally cuts her off.

“Good evening Leah,y/n how are you both tonight?” the person says, looking towards the voice we see Elliott. I was starting to wonder where he was normally earlier. “ hey El where were you? You're a bit later than usual.” I ask the redhead. He just chuckles and takes a seat in between the two tables. “Well, you know how I was having a dry spell of inspiration? Well, I don't know What hit me but today I was able to get 3 chapters done in my novel! I was so caught up in it that I didn't even realize the whole day had run away from me. I feel so alive at the moment!” he tells us excitedly. For the past week, Elliott has been talking about how he had no clue what to write in this book of his, it was kind of sad to see him so upset, but now he's happy and inspired again! Don't get me wrong is amazing, I'm happy for him and even happier that he's so much more enthusiastic and optimistic now, but I just wish he was like this 3 days ago. Because now his joy is feeling a bit suffocating. Or maybe that's just because of my shitty day.

Even so, I sit there and listen to him excitedly explaining some plot twist he wanted to add to a future chapter.

As he speaks I can't help but tune into the music playing from the jukebox. It's decently loud but not enough to give you a headache and the songs playing are mostly from the 70’s and 80's. I guess Gus has decent musical taste! Who knew?

About an hour has passed and our little trio has had our fair share of drinks. We sit there joking around for a little longer before Leah thinks it might be a good idea to pull Elliott and me up to dance. “Leah I don’t know how fuckin to dance??” I slur as she pulls me up. She groans “Come on don't be lame let all just dance! I bet you can do it! Elliott, don't you think they can do it too??” she asks him. Elliott being a little less than drunk more on the tipsy side just laughs.

“ You know I think they can! Go on, go dance, you can do it,” he says, giving me a slight push. Without thinking I grab onto his hand and spin around to face him. “You know what! I’ll go if you come with us.”

Telling him to come with us was the worst thing to say ever.

Cause he was an amazing dancer with a couple of drinks under his belt. And he looked divine doing it. His red suit jacket had been long forgotten on the back of his chair, his long red hair was put up messily in a bun and he was dancing like he should have been on a stage.

He swayed and spun, stumbled once or twice, and laughed with us when we pointed it out to him. It was a beautiful thing to witness, but he didn't take my focus away completely, as Leah and I had been spinning around together, jumping up and down bobbing our heads to the beat as we stumbled and laughed.

As we dance my head starts to spin, dizziness overcoming every aspect of my mind and vision almost knocking me down. But as I stumble, a hand grabs my wrist from behind and spins me around full circle. As I nearly fall forward the person's other hand finds its way to my waist pulling me towards them, my back hits their chest and I hear a laugh. “I can see you've been having fun, you should be more careful, you just never know who you'll stumble into.”

Recognizing the voice, a dopey grin creeps onto my face as I turn my head to look at the culprit.

And just as I guessed it was Elliott standing behind me with an oddly placed smirk on his face. Seeing him sobers me up a little bit in the best way possible.

“ Well now you're the one who grabbed me, I could have stumbled my way into anyone I like. you just happened to be quick about it.” I said with a giggle as I spun around one more to the beat of the song playing. Now facing him as we move around the dancefloor.

“Yes, well. Ah, what can I say i can't think of a good excuse at the moment. I’ve wanted to dance with you for quite some time, And when I saw you had wandered out of Leah's grasp well. I suppose you can call me somewhat of an opportunist.” he says as we both let out a laugh

“ Well, I can’t say I'm complaining that you took that opportunity.” I wink “Nothing against Leah she's quite a good dancer.”

“Better than me?” Elliott says with a joking tone. “Definitely,” I responded with a grin. He places a dramatic hand on his chest as he tries to flip his hair forgetting it's put up at the moment “I’m hurt, I thought I was better than that.” he jokes. A small chuckle escapes me at the gesture before the night goes on and blurs together, not in the sense that I don't remember more like that of a watercolor painting when the colors bleed into one another as we had dancing in a wave of color that turns into something else entirely.

The door of the saloon swung open as we exited, we were one of the last few folks leaving. Leah had left about an hour prior leaving us to our fun, not without saying goodbye first. Waving goodnight to Gus, me and Elliott make our way to the town square. Stopping I turn to him with a tired look “Are you sure you wanna walk me home? It's getting pretty late.'' I asked him. It's not like the walk to the farm is long but for him to walk all the way there and then to the beach is quite the trek even with shortcuts it can take quite a while. “Of course. I'm not gonna let you walk home alone at this hour. It wouldn't be right, especially after the drinks you had earlier.” he tells me with a grin i gaze at him skeptically. Looking him up and down.

Even after the long night he looks surprisingly put together in a semi-messy way, his hair is still put up in that messy bun from earlier but now some more strands are pulled out some of them sticking to his face after the night of dancing, his white dress shirt was wrinkled now and his red coat was lazily thrown over his shoulder. Even so, his posture was still surprisingly straight though he was very slightly hunched over but it was kinda hard to notice. After a few moments, I shrugged my shoulders “Well if you insist.”I told him.

“Oh, I insist” he smiles, turning to the side he offers me his arm. I laugh a bit and take it “Trying to pull the gentlemen card tonight Elliott?” I joke as we make our way past the little garden turning the corner to make our descent down the pathway that leads to my farm. “ I don't need to pull a card. It's just who I am,” he says, his voice a bit smoother than before. Making a little heat rise to my face. I thank the dark shadows of the night for shielding the small details from his view. Damn, that silver tongue of his. I think to myself before I remember to respond “Whatever you say El.” I chuckle looking straight ahead of us. The air is cool as we walk but not uncomfortable in the slightest. It is more of a calming breeze that floats past us picking up the smell of some of the freshly bloomed spring flowers with a slight smell of rain from the previous day. I feel as though I could never tire of the night air, And to admit walking with the man that's haunted my dreams each night just adds that little bit more to it that makes it hard for me to remember that it's real.

“Well, here we are.” I hear Elliott mumble pulling me out of my thoughts. I didn’t even realize we had walked up the steps to my front porch. “ thank you so much, Elliott.'' I smile warmly at him as I release his arm from my hold. “ It was really sweet of you to walk me home tonight. And also thank you for the fun night you and Leah provided me with.” I told him.

“It's always a pleasure, and I would do it again any time any place,” he responds with a nod. a small grin gracing his features. A few moments pass before he decides to speak once more

“ Well I suppose it's getting quite late and I wouldn't want to keep you up too late so I guess I'll be going now,” he says hesitantly. I bow my head with a smile before opening my door a small bit of confidence overcoming me as I get i silly idea

“ Well, it's not that late, how about you come inside for a moment and grab some tea before you go?”

“ that. Would be lovely. As long as you don't mind.” he says taking a step inside my home.

“ I don't mind, I offered,” I responded with a laugh closing the door behind us as I went to heat the kettle. It was a small offer but it was a night neither of us would forget for a long time.

[love-patient-0s-writing-world]

Growing Fond

Shane x Reader

Class: SFW

Word Count: 1.6K

CW: Spoilers For Shane’s First Heart Event, This is Basically a more Detailed Version of the Heart Event, NB Reader, Alcohol, Extisential Dread, Reader is a bit Unhinged, Reader is refered to as Farmer, Mentions of Injuries

For Shane it was a normal boring routine day, he got up, went to work, stocked shelves until his hands were numb and is now being screeched at by his phone that it’s finally his lunch break. He let out a groan as he stood up from his crouched position, his back cracking loudly when he stood up straight. He made a bee line for the door not bothering to acknowledge Morris as he sped past him. He walked all the way to the saloon to find it pretty much empty aside from Gus, Emily, Pam and you. Pam was already 3 drinks in and you seemed to be busy ordering something, so he just made his way to his usual spot against the wall and waited. As he sat down he didn’t notice when your eyes flitted over at him and returned back to Gus quickly adding one more item to your order. When you were done you took your time walking over to him, he looked up and saw a small smile on your face as you waved at him. “This seat taken?” you asked nodding your head at the empty stool. “Nope.” he said popping the p, he didn’t necessarily dislike you but he didnt want to spend his lunch break with you either. You sat down with a sigh leaning your head on your hand as you look at him “So how’s your day been so far Shane?” “Same as always, anyways what are you doing here? Don’t you have crops to take care of?” it came out much more annoyed and rough than he wanted but he’s too tired to correct it.

 Before you could answer Gus came up with 4 cups of a coffee and a small pizza, before Shane could ask Gus for the usual the man sped off to the other side of the bar where Pam is. He raised an eyebrow at your...questionable lunch, although he doesn’t have any room to speak regarding your diet since his looked frighteningly similar. “Ah, well, I’m heading to the mine after this and-” you said pulling a plain silver thermos out of your bag “-I don’t want to run out of energy immediately so...” you opened the bottle and started pouring the coffee into it not spilling a drop from any of the cups. He could feel the terror that flashed on his face before he tried to go back to the usual RBF he has. “That can’t be healthy…well at least you’re getting some solid food in.” He eyed the personal pizza that sat in front of you, “Oh! Uhh…” You looked away from him with a soft chuckle “I actually got the pizza for you.” A nervous smile forced it’s way to face as you try to figure out what to say next. “I know today’s your birthday so I thought I’d get ya lunch…” His head cocked the side slightly “Oh, is it my birthday today?” He looked down at his phone to see Spring 20 on the lock screen “I guess it is, thanks.” He looked up at you with a small smile “This is nice.” “Well I’m glad you like it!” You slide the box in front of him and after he takes a couple bites from the pizza you got him you turn towards him, “I should probably get going-” you hop off the stool next to his with ease “Bye Shane, have a happy birthday!” Your smile makes him almost sad to be alone again…almost. “See ya, Farmer.”

He watched you walk out the Saloon door, he finished the pizza in a few minutes and let out a sigh as he looked at the time. Sliding off the stool he walked out of the Saloon back to his miserable job. The day blurred by restocking the same shelves that he wished he could watch burn to the ground, when his shift ended he picked up a pack of beers before heading home. The night air was crisp and the temperature was not…uncomfortably warm, so he walked out to the pier on the property and plopped down with his pack next to him. He was about 2 cans in when he heard the creak of the old wood planks behind him and footsteps approaching, stopping when they reached him. When he looked to his side he saw grimy boots covered in mud, slime and…insect remains, well there was worst company to have than you. “Up late, huh?” “Actually just got back from the mines.” Letting out a tired chuckle as if it was hilarious that you spent 10 hours underground. As he turned up to halfheartedly scold you for your life decisions, he got a glimpse of the arm and hand closest to him. Cuts ranging from little scratches to a freshly stitched up gash on your bicep, large welts that resemble…bug bites, and bruises of all colors are splattered across it. He no longer had the will to tell you off, “Here, have a cold one.” He extended the can to you, feeling your calloused fingers brush against his as you grabbed it.

Taking the beer as an invite to stay for awhile you take a seat next to him. You’re much closer than either of you expected, shoulders pressing against each other. He watched you a bit as you fiddled with the little metal tab, after a couple minutes of insect chirps he lets out a sigh. You tilted your head at him and he just responds with a bitter “Buh…life.” Maybe it was the beer or the comfortably uncomfortable silence that made him speak without thinking, “You ever feel like…no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? …Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?” He could feel your eyes burrowing into the side of his head, but he kept staring straight into the darkness of the lake beneath you both. “I just feel like no matter how hard I try…I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.” He can see your head turn forward in his peripheral, taking the opportunity to actually look at you. Your body was tense and face wearing an expression he knows all too well, a mixture of existential dread and tiredness. In the silence that settled over you two the crack of the tab finally breaking the aluminum can was heard. He watched as you brought it up to your lips and tilt your head back, hearing your big gulps of the icy beer until you finally crush the can in your hand. Maybe it’s the beer buzzing in his system but the way you’re lightly panting and the expert chugging had him feeling…funny. You looked over at him and mumbled a little “Sorry.” 

He felt the corners of his mouth curl up a bit “Heh…fast drinker, huh? A person after my own heart.” You could feel your face warm up a bit at his flirty joke. “Just don’t make it a habit…you got a future ahead of you still.” There was such a soft undertone of sincerity that it caught you a bit off guard, you watched as he finished his can of beer placing it next to your crushed one. “Welp…my liver is beggin’ me to stop. Better call it a night.” You got up wobbling a bit, man are your legs and arms sore from today. Shane grabbed the empty cans placing them in the plastic bag the pack came from, you watch as he grunted to get up on his knees, without hesitation you extended a hand to help him up. He stared at it for a few moments before taking it, you pulled him up towards you with ease, his hands were warm and a bit sweaty along with his his now slightly red cheeks it was something that nestled into your brain without realization. You reluctantly let go of his hand opting to shove them in your pockets, “I’ll walk you to your house…it’s on the way to mine.” Despite the fact the house he shared was visible from the dock he wasn’t opposed to having your company a little while longer. The grass crunched under your shoes as you walked with him, reaching the trash can that sat right outside the front door he dumped the bag with the empty cans. 

“This was nice, thanks for the beer and the company.” Your smile was well visible due to the house lights shining right outside the front door. “I’m heading home now, I’ll see you tomorrow, Shane!” You waved as you started walking off, “See you around, Farmer.” Returning the wave as he walked into the house, without thinking he stood by the window and watched you dissapear down the path that connects the two properties. He slowly walks to his room attempting not to wake anyone else in the house, sliding into his room he softly closed the door and let out a sigh. He faceplanted onto his bed feeling the effects of the day and beers crash on him, his mind drifted from the shelves of the market, the few ‘Happy Birthdays’ he recieved and finally landed on you. He let his thoughts linger, marinating in the details his slightly hazey brain grasped onto. The callouses developing on your hands, the scars forming on your arms and the way that you lifted him like he was a feather...he could feel his face heating up again like before, ‘I need to stop...but I guess there are worst ways to spend my birthday?’ Getting up he kicked off his shoes, lazily changing into a T-shirt and shorts. Crawling back into bed he closed his eyes and let himself indulge the thoughts his sober brain would’ve shot down immediately. The best gift he’s getting today is from himself and it’s a good night’s sleep.

I hope you enjoyed reading this! Remember to drink water, eat something and get plenty of rest! Feel free to return whenever you want traveler, take care!💜

~Love Patient 0

[ep2nd]

@remy-a

Today's topic- the change in animation in LMK

I know like the majority of the Fandom has probably been sent to the ER after season 5 animation (or the emotion couldn't tell) but I think someone said that the animation slightly changed from like the Pilot to s 1-3, somewhere there, so like 3 different animation at this point, maybe??

Alright here's my thoughts

AGGAGAGAGGGGHHHHHHHH

Okay for real this time-

When I first watched LMK, I fell IN LOVE with the fluid motions, the active movement, the anime-style Influence, the exaggeration, the most random fun moments, pop ups, yse of environment, angles, camera movement, facial and body expression and other stuff I don't know the name of

Now as someone who's never watched Anime, please don't kill me, I don't exactly know what that looks like, but try going anywhere on the internet without tripping down the stairs and falling into the basement of ANIME

Also, I'm used to more rigid, beautiful backrounds, great lighting, or basic show animation. Such as Trollhunters, Amphibia, The Owl House, Big City Greens, Ninjago, How to Train your Dragon, Carmen Sandiego and others

So as you can see, this was new to me, and I fricken loved it

Now I can tell there definitely has been change from the Pilot to season 4, more refined, less sloppy

So, when season 5-

Oh dear, I love you Wild Brain, I really do, Ninjago and Carmen Sandiego WERE BEAUTIFUL

BUT AHHHHHH

I will say this, this is a new artstyle, they need practice, and I'm sure it'll improve, but this is not that time it's time to CRITISIZE GET THE RED PEN (maybe I am an English Teacher)

Remember what I said about what I love about LMK animation? Okay now throw it out the window into the Fire of FRICK THIS

Now I will say, they used some angles pretty well, such as using the environment to show emotion/tension, like when it would Pam out and something was blocking the two characters, from Wukong to Macaque to the poll in the Pagado and then a mountain between MK and Wukong near the end- look for its cool- someone pointed it out here on Tumblr can't remember name sorry

2nd, the expressions look really typical, like I miss the shot eyebrow from Wukong, or the the pathetic puppy eyes of MK, or the :3 for Mei, or the furious faces of Pigsy, the sparkly pure joy of Sandy, the chaotic gremlinness of MO, the evil Edit maker smiles of Macaque (I've seen your tiktoks) ALL THE LITTLE EXTRA THAT MADE THE EXPRESSIONS AND HUMOR/TENSION/EMOTION BETTER

3rd, the movements. Seen especially in the second episode when they escape. It's just, so basic running, like compare them running to MK's run in s2 running from the LBD and then when he ran in s4 away from the Ink scroll. Just so much more fear and dread. Also talking bout LBD, her voice actor? Phenomenal as always? Her movements and how they animate her? She seems more like a red headed doll with button eyes than the horror of something like FNAF(haven't played FNAF so can't really compare) what I'm saying is she seemed less huanting, a weary, fear-instilling, and bone-chilling(shut up let me pun) presence this time around, which really makes the scene less dramatic, but the camera angles, voice acting, and some animation still make it somewhat good.

Okay, this post is getting long and I can rant all day, and that's not even with me rewatching the show to pick it apart, someone probably already has good for them I'll look for it👍

In conclusion, comes of more dull, simple, rough, and rushed. S5 story, which has some problems, really hit deep in the last few episodes, mostly MK and Wukong, and if the studio beforehand continued animating, then I think it would have been a masterpiece, really sad to see the wasted potential

I know it's a new studio, but I wish they took more time to practice and learn, and maybe do it on a season that wasn't like the big reveal and end (I'd say a more happy season but let's be honest the Trauma train ain't stopping for a LONG TIME)

so, I guess I'll give it a 4/10, points for using the backround to storytell, still got some great angles, some funny bits here and there (the soldiers where a joy), action scenes were somewhat good, not a lot can't judge more, and pity points because I know they're still learning

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

I make mini-comics and art of Stardew Valley characters!

(animations and writings too if I'm up to it)

I post art on Monday and Friday and Wednesday is for everything else!

All my art will be tagged with -> #SDVBID art

QNA stuff and Answer archive!

inbox answers are tagged with #ask if you want to look through that!

Templates I use

Below is my Comics, Art, Doodles, and everything else organized and labeled with specific character appearances, enjoy!

Vulnerability- Alex, Me???

A little jealous- Rasmodious, Farmer

Gossip- Caroline, Abigail, Pierre, Rasmodius, Farmer

"Experimental noise" they said.- Sam, Abigail, Sebastian, Farmer, Jodi, Vincent, Leo, Linus

Bots- My chicken

Golden Scythe!- Farmer

Hair cuts!- Marnie, Shane, Emily

You weren't supposed to do that- Elliott

Two types of winter players: Farmers

Double trouble bubble brew!- (part 3) Penny, Alex, Abigail, Farmers, Harvey, Maru, Sam

Trouble continues to brew!- (part 2) Harvey, Maru, Abigail, Alex

Trubble in the Spirits Eve Maze- (part 1) Abigail, Alex

A different point of view- Leah

A head cannon of mine...- Farmer

Stalker vibes- (2 panell) Farmer, Sebastian, Robin

Happy 1-year anniversary/birth to me!🎉

Salad and Steaks- Farmer, Alex

Lewis in gold

Let me in! (animation)- Demetrius, Farmer

Marlon headcanon art

He would NEVER!... or would he?- Mr Qi

Harvey and his planes

Happy Valentine's Day!- Krobus

Not Invited- Pam, Willy, Marnie, Lewis, Robin, Gus

Haley's material girl arc

Here's a chicken animation I made- Chickens :)

High Score- Sam, Sebastian

Feast of the Winter Star- Jas, Farmers, Lewis, Abigail

Emily's old hairstyle

A pirates wife- Birdie

Alex

Say cheese!- Krobus

Scarecrows and Rarecrows- Farmers

Harvey- with bonus one pannel comic- BLOOD

Winter Jas

3rd time's the charm!- Farmers

Favoritism- Farmers

How the Farmers Heal- Harvey- BLOOD/CUTS

Controversial Alex opinions

Emily in a jester outfit!

Favorite and least favorite- Krobus, Bouncer guy

SHADOW WIZARD MONEY GANG- Mr Qi, Rasmodious, Grandpa

Who has the longer hair?- Elliott, Farmer

Sam with check it face meme

Family Dinner night- Sam, Farmer, Vincent, Jodi

Shane's canonical birthday

Sick farmers characterization

He's just standing there...MENACINGLY- Sebastian, Jas

The smallest :)- Harvey

8th anniversary of Stardew- Junimos

Haley x Femm Farmer

Farmer Grandpa phone doodle

Haley holding lesbian flag

Mask Farmer doodles

Abigail bonus doodles

Halloween Ref for comic- Penny, Harvey, Maru, Alex, Abigail, Sam

Mr. Qi ref

Rasmodius ref

Shane ref

Penny and Abigail ref

Maru, Leah, Farmers, Harvey, Elliott, Alex, Sam ref

Old base farmer ref (Fem)

Old base farmer ref (Mask)

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 5

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 5,408 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Masturbation, D/s situations Summary: Supernatural snooping or nearly dating? You decide!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Her employment is uneventful in comparison for the next few weeks, and her skills are mostly utilized to flush out undesirable customers from the bar. Part of her thinks this is on purpose, because of the accidental escalation of her last project, but she doubts the small misstep was enough to worry Eric in any real way.

When he invites her to a vampire gathering, at the request of one of his friends, she’s happy to jump at the opportunity. Too many of her nights have been spent smelling stale beer and listening to repetitive, pulsing trance music played too loud for comfort. Pam had rolled her eyes when she noticed Cam wearing earplugs, but she could still hear thoughts just fine.

“I’d like you to mingle with the companions and let me know if something seems off. Melanie fears her pet has been hiding something from her,” Eric says as they walk into the foyer of a grand house about forty-five minutes from Cam’s apartment. Cam, clad in tight black pants and a lace top—the perfect accompaniment to Eric’s black v-neck sweater and jeans—lifts a brow, confused.

“Melanie’s… pet.” Cam trails off when she follows Eric’s gaze; she spots a dark haired vampire looping a finger through the O-ring of a woman’s collar necklace and pulling her in for a kiss, and everything makes a lot more sense. “Right. You got it. Listening for anything unusual, shady, secret related from the pet,” she clarifies. Eric looks down at her, seems concerned.

“Does their partnership make you uncomfortable? I should have asked.” Cam shakes her head, unsure if he’s inquiring because they’re both female or because one is clearly submissive toward the other. Either way, it’s not a problem for her.

“No, not at all. I was just… With vampires, you know, you guys use some different words that aren’t always natural for me: Maker, Sire, child,” she explains. She gestures, a small, private wave of her hand, at Melanie and her pet. “This relationship seems like something I actually understand.” There’s a long beat of silence between them before she continues, curious. “Do vampires ever enjoy being submissive?” 

That earns a soft laugh from Eric, and he guides her over to a staffed bar and orders drinks for each of them.

“Our tastes vary just as humans do,” he tells her as they wait. His eyes linger over her lips, and it makes her stomach feel pleasantly hollow. “What do you enjoy?” he asks, his voice low, and when the bartender places the martini glass in front of her she takes it, shakes her head as she sips.

“Oh no, I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to go there with you,” she says, patting him on the chest. “You go chat with the vampire daddies, I’ll keep my third ear open.” 

“And I’ll keep an eye on you,” he promises in a way that makes her body feel warm. She turns and walks away from him, not looking back but hoping like hell he’s watching her as she goes.  For an hour or so, Cam makes her way around the room, introducing herself to so many interesting people, professors and artists and scientists all entwined in one type of kinky relationship or another. Some are partnered, some are looking, some are poly, so partnered and looking; when Eric presses his palm to her back and she turns to face him, she exhales deeply, relieved that for a moment she doesn’t have to keep all the names and preferences and dynamics straight.

With vampires, but especially with Eric, her mind is always perfectly at ease.

“How are you doing?” he leans in to ask her, but he’s not looking at her; his gaze is locked on someone behind her, over her head. She turns to try to figure out who he’s staring at.

“So far so good — nothing but adoration from Melanie’s pet over there. That guy looks unhappy,” she says when she spots the offender who’s got Eric’s attention, a large, burly, bearded man who is scowling at Eric just as hard as he’s scowling back. She turns back to Eric, and he finally looks down at her, his eyes softening.

“It’s nothing,” he says at first, but one impatient sigh has him backtracking, remembering their agreement to be more transparent with one another, no doubt. “His name is Randolph. He’s not pleased with me,” Eric admits, and Cam moves closer, her voice quiet.

“Why, what have you done?” It’s clear by his expression that he doesn’t want to tell her, but he presses on anyway.

“He wonders why I haven’t claimed you yet,” he murmurs, leaning in. “He believes I don’t belong here, that I’m trying to force my way in for political reasons, and I think he doubts my cover story.” 

“That I’m a hot little thing you picked up at Fangtasia and I’m glamoured and enamored like a schoolgirl with a crush?” Cam teases, because she’s been reduced to that stereotype countless times, as someone who does business with vampires. Eric sighs.

“That you’re my…  I don’t like pet,” he says, and realization washes over her. Slowly, she nods her head.

“Oh. Vampire daddy thinks you’re my vampire daddy.” She’s embarrassed to admit that saying that sends a thrill through her, that being anything of Eric’s sounds like something she could be interested in. His eyes flash back to Randolph.

“Yes. He thinks I’m courting you, but I’ll bet he propositions you before the night is over, to test your loyalty to me.” 

Instantly, Cam is not happy with that projected schedule of events. It’s not even about loyalty, it’s… she doesn’t like the thought of flirting with anyone but Eric, here, though she can’t quite decide when that became something she even bothered to contemplate. She’s enjoying their closeness, in a back-burner kind of way, and she can’t imagine being this close to Randolph—or anyone—without being uncomfortable.

“Can you stop him from doing that without making a scene?” she asks, pressing closer, suddenly feeling uncertain for the first time at this otherwise very enjoyable party. Eric groans a little.

“I don’t think so. He’s not a sheriff, but he is powerful,” he admits. “Do you want him?” he murmurs, like he’d sacrifice his reputation and let her go off with this Randolph if that’s what she'd actually prefer. Without second thought, she shakes her head.

“I do not, no.” 

“Then perhaps I should get you out of here and we can give Melanie our regrets at a later time.” He looks down at her like he’s waiting for her input, and she remembers Melanie, who was so sweet to her when she introduced herself, so kind to invite them, and exhales. 

“Give me five more minutes, okay? I just want to touch the pet so I can be totally sure of her motivations.” 

“Okay,” he says, sounding like he would have preferred she ask for anything but, and she pats him on the arm and heads across the room to read the memories of Melanie’s significant other.

As she’d expected, the pet is deeply devoted to and in love with Melanie, although she did uncover a secret that should put the vampire at ease. She makes her way around the room, dodging Randolph, and she smiles to herself when she spots Eric’s broad back standing near the bar.

“Hey, so we’re good,” Cam begins as she walks up to him, until he turns and she clocks the look of concern on his face. She can feel it, too, and it makes her stomach turn. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, but I think we should go before I’m forced to use my words,” he says, pulling her closer. Cam takes that as a cue, winds her arms around him in an embrace to avoid looking like they don’t belong.

“He’s suspicious of us?” she asks, tipping her head to look up at him, and Eric’s mouth is set in a grim line. She doesn’t love the expression.

“He doubts our commitment,” he explains tensely, “and he thinks I’m neglecting you by not giving you what you so obviously need.” Cam frowns at that—Eric has given her so much already, including levels of confidence and security she hadn’t felt in a long time—and then, suddenly, realizes there’s only one thing they can do to prevent causing a big scene.

Cause a little scene.

“Let’s show him how wrong he is,” Cam murmurs, stretching up on her toes, and Eric meets her in the middle without hesitation. He’s firm but soft under her lips, her fingertips, and he quickly takes control of the kiss, pulling her closer, making a show of sliding a broad hand up to gently but possessively cover her throat. 

She moans softly at that, can’t help the way that singular action takes her level of attraction to him from a low, consistent simmer to boiling over rapidly in one weak breath. He squeezes just once, lightly, then slips her his tongue before pulling back to peer down at her; she knows she must look aroused, can feel her whole body flushing with want and heat and a little bit of shame at how quickly one kiss got away from her.

Eric takes her hand, and with a few hasty goodbyes they leave the party—though now it probably looks like they’re going to fuck in the back of his car instead of avoiding confrontation as originally planned. She thinks they might, for a moment, when he presses her back against the car door instead of opening it for her, panting like he’s catching his breath in a way she knows he doesn’t really need. 

She’s breathing heavily too, caged in by his big body as she is, and just when she thinks they’ve both calmed down Eric surges forward and kisses her again. Both of his hands come up to caress her face, and she gets her arms around him and holds him close as their mouths move. He’s pressed fully against her, his thighs on hers, his hips delicious and distracting, and when the kiss slows her mouth feels tingly, her body eager for more. She breathes against his lips, wets her own.

“Melanie’s pet found the engagement ring she’s hiding in her panty drawer,” she says quickly, before either of them can make another move. As much as she enjoyed that kiss—both of those kisses—she feels guilty now, like she’s taken advantage of a situation and she needs to find her way out of it. “So she’s been a little dodgy, and Melanie noticed. I’m thinking she’ll be glad to know that’s all it is, but maybe a little sour her surprise has been spoiled.”

Eric blinks a few times, frowns like he’s having trouble processing that information, then clears his throat, steps back to put space between them. 

“Oh. Good. Melanie will be pleased, then.” He glances up at the house, as if wondering if he should go back in and tell her the good news; before he makes a move, though, he turns again and looks at Cam with a somewhat softer, yet equally puzzling expression. “You did very well. Good girl.” 

His words hit like a punch to the stomach, like a plummeting rollercoaster, in the very best way; she squeezes her legs together, hoping he won’t pick up on the motion, then watches him lick his lips. 

“Thank you,” she replies, sounding breathless and shaky to her own ears. She can hear the blood rushing to them, feel the buzz of his mind, and something like contentment that she doesn’t have a name for but it obviously coming from him. It’s… distracting. He’s distracting.

Fuck, he’s good looking. Like a Swedish god, all brooding and chiseled and tall; like the Devil himself, she thinks, here to make her think of nothing but sin when she’s in his goddamn presence. What started as a working relationship has become so blurred in her mind, and now that they’ve kissed, she’s actually scared of what it may have awakened in her.

“I’ll call Melanie tomorrow,” Eric says, breaking her out of her thoughts and into the silence. He reaches behind her to unlock the door, and she hopes he doesn’t hear the hitch in her breath when he gets so close before pulling away. “Right now, I should probably get you home.”  Early that morning as he tries to sleep, images run through his mind at breakneck speed: Camila with a collar like Melanie’s pet, or on her knees in front of him, or spread on a bed with her hands bound and her legs open. He thinks he could drain her, choke her, make her see stars when she comes, maybe even make love to her…

He’s not sure exactly what he wants yet, only knows that he wants it with her.

His hands move of their own accord, and before he can process it he’s touching himself, fucking into his fist and thinking of her skin, silk soft and caramel colored, beneath his fangs. She smells like heaven, sun-kissed and tropical, and she’s in his nose all the time now: the floral bouquet of her shampoo, the delicate pulse of blood when she flushes near him. Her scent has soaked into his office, into his car, the walls of Fangtasia, and when his orgasm overtakes him his fangs extend, dreaming of sinking into the flesh of her throat or thigh and taking her in every way he can. As a vampire and a man.

He’s absolutely screwed, he thinks as he drifts blissfully to sleep, because now that he’s had a taste of her kiss, it will no doubt be the thing that consumes him. “You said you’d worked with shifters before,” Eric mentions the next time he sees Cam. He’d shown up at her house days after that kiss—that kiss, god—with another potential job for her, caught her just as she was getting out of the shower; as he sits across from her in the living room, he can smell soap and arousal on her, and he wonders if she touched herself in that shower, if she’s been thinking of him the way he’s been thinking of her. 

Her hair is wet and wavy, and she pulls it over her shoulder and nods. 

“Yeah, I have some experience with them. And, well, Sam is one,” she adds. Eric tries and fails to recall a shifter named Sam, and it must show on his face; Cam huffs a laugh. “Sam Merlotte, Sookie’s boss, owner of Merlotte’s Bar and Grill? The place we met,” she reminds him, like he could ever forget that night. “Did you not know?”

“I don’t even think I registered his existence,” he says honestly. It happens more often than he should admit. “But that’s good to know. I try to keep tabs on lone shifters in the area. Can you hear them?” he asks, which guides them back in the direction of the reason he’d come.

“Yes, but it’s not effortless the way it is with humans. Emotions are easier, they wear them on their sleeves, but for actual thoughts I need to focus.” Eric nods his head, steeples his fingers in front of him. 

“And what about skinwalkers? Have you worked with those?” Cam’s posture changes instantly, stiffens, but she shrugs in a way that gives the completely opposite effect—or it would, if he couldn’t feel her as clearly as he does. 

He can tell that this is an uncomfortable topic for her, and the last thing he wants is to pull her into something that will be difficult for her, but this task is important, will open doors for them in neighboring areas, maybe out of state. He needs more information before he decides.

“I know of them. They’re a bastardized version of shifters, they can mimic other people,  aren’t held to the same constraints as regular shifters,” she says with another lifted shoulder. “I’ve never met one, though, that I know of.”

“Do you know what makes them different? How they become skinwalkers? It isn’t passed down,” he tells her, and she nods at that, her expression shifting to something unreadable. 

“They’re killers,” she says, and it’s without judgment, to his surprise. “They gain the ability when they kill someone in their family. It would make prosecuting them pretty straightforward,” she says with a smile, though it’s not as bright as it usually is, doesn’t touch her eyes, “but shifters aren’t ‘out’ yet, not like you guys, so it’s kind of a moot point.” 

“You know more than I expected. I should be used to underestimating you by now,” he says, and she laughs at that, more like herself now. 

“Yeah, maybe you could quit doing that soon. I’ve been pretty helpful so far, knowledgeable, right?” she asks—and of course she has. She has no idea how much she’s already changed in him. 

“You have… which is why I’m asking about skinwalkers,” he says, shifting to look into her eyes. “If you aren’t comfortable doing what I’m going to ask, you need to tell me, but please know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she replies, and she’s giving him more credit than he thinks he deserves, but it makes him feel good all the same. “So what’s the job, boss?”  The job is transporting a teenage skinwalker from one area to another, where he’s going to be punished for impersonating a vampire—a trait Cam did not know they possessed. Those involved in the transport are Cam, obviously, and the skinwalker in question, as well as Eric and a witch he introduced as Lorna, who practically radiates power and energy. There’s a joke to be said there, about four different supernatural beings in one car—if a telepath can be considered one—but it’s not the time, so she holds her tongue. 

Eric is the one with the connections, and he knows where they’re headed, so he drives. The skinwalker sits behind him, bound by some invisible magic Lorna, who sits beside him, possesses. Cam feels mostly useless, because she’s sitting in the passenger’s seat with her eyes closed, her brain working hard to focus on the skinwalker’s thoughts. 

“The sheriff wants to know his motivations for impersonating a vampire, in the event it’s a larger conspiracy,” Eric told her on the way to pick up the pair in the back seat, and since they entered the car she has been channeling all of her strength and willpower into sifting through the shifter’s mind. 

It’s an ugly place, and she can tell without even touching him that some of that was nature, some was nurture, and some was just a kid left to his own devices. He doesn’t know she’s listening, probably didn’t know that was possible, so his thoughts go from one extreme to another: violent, pornographic, frightened, greedy, childish, terrifying. 

He thinks about the person he killed to become a skinwalker—his little brother—and she’s pretty certain he’s a psychopath who just happens to possess the ability to turn into a black bear. There’s no larger plot in the works here, no conspiracy, just a wreck of a kid with no conscience and more power than someone his age should possess. The kid can’t drink, can’t buy a pack of cigarettes, but he can shift into anyone he sees at will, and that actually blows Cam’s mind.

And her mind is aching by the time they cross the border into Mississippi, because once she started listening, a sort of sick fascination kept her there, like rubberneckers at a car accident. Three and a half hours after their departure, the sheriff of Jackson has the shifter in custody, and Lorna at his side to keep the kid bound until sentencing. She’ll be escorted home by a different vampire the next day, Cam’s pretty sure she heard someone say in the background of her brain. 

“Are you alright?” Eric asks when they’re alone in the car, his eyes on her face. “Should we stop to rest, for food?” She looks at him, but the words won’t come at first, and he reaches over to press his cool hand to her overheated cheek. 

It’s like bliss, and she sighs, pressing into his hand comfortably. She could fall asleep like this, with him propping her up, she muses briefly, but that would be strange and she’d have no way to explain that weirdness away. 

Instead, she blinks slowly and nods her head. “I’m okay. I have water, and snacks,” she reminds him, thinking of the bag of all-night rest stop goodies at her feet. “Probably best if we just head home. I’ll rest on the way, if that’s okay.” 

His touch is exceedingly gentle in response, and he pushes her hair back behind her ear, runs a thumb over her jaw, then puts the car in drive.

When they pull up to Cam’s apartment, she’s completely wiped, and despite her assurances that she can make it herself, Eric carries her inside and puts her into bed. Her eyelids flutter and she yawns, fighting sleep, but with hours until sunrise, Eric is in no hurry. He just sits beside her on the bed, speaking grateful words of praise for her assistance and running his fingers through her hair. The soft scrape of his fingers soothes her aching head, and she can tell it’s not long before she falls deeply asleep. Cam is invited to a party at Merlotte’s—an engagement party for the redheaded waitress, if she remembers correctly—and the text invite says that plus ones are welcome. That’s fortunate, Cam thinks, because she never goes anywhere without a vampire escort these days.

“Bill and Sookie aren’t happy I’m here,” Eric says suddenly in her ear, handing her a bottle of beer over her shoulder. She turns to see that a TruBlood rests in his own hand, type O+, just like her own blood.

“And you like it,” she accuses with a wink and a grateful sip of the beer. He narrows his eyes but laughs softly. 

“A little. It’s fun to watch that wrinkle on Bill’s forehead gradually become more furrowed. It’s like a shapeshifter,” he says casually, earning a double take from Sam who passes by with a tray laden with fried food. “I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence, but he’s always unhappy when I’m around.”

“Sure, a coincidence. You’re pure evil,” Cam teases, leaning back against the table, “psychologically torturing the poor man.” Eric turns toward her like she’s the only thing in the room worth watching, tips his hand and the bottle in it. He’s wearing all black—jacket, t-shirt, jeans, boots—and his eyes look bluer because of it, captivating her in a way she hopes isn’t completely obvious. She’s losing resolve when it comes to him, especially after the tenderness on her bed, the taste of his kiss.

“Ah, but it was you who invited me, so maybe you like it too. Maybe you’re not as good as you seem,” he says like a challenge, his lips turned up in a smirk, and she leans closer to him and takes another sip of her drink.

“I invited you because I knew you wouldn’t let me come alone,” she says, but truth be told, she’d invited him because she wanted to spend more time with him. Supernatural shenanigans aside, he’s usually busy when she hangs around the bar, and she craves his presence like never before. 

Eric takes a sip of his TruBlood, licks a drop from his lips, and watches her eyes as they track the movement. 

“Such a curious little thing you are: lawful and kind-hearted, but far from vanilla. I’m never quite sure what to expect from you,” he says, voice low. 

She resists swallowing at the implication of that statement, that word, pushes all thoughts of their intense kisses away and does her best not to let him see her stumble.

“So what you’re saying is I’m a lot to handle,” she teases instead, but he leans in closely just like he always does, pressing the fingers of his free hand against the tabletop so his arm is outstretched behind her. 

“I’m simply saying it would take someone powerful to handle you,” he clarifies, and she can’t help it, she shifts toward him at the thought of being handled. Her heart beats quickly in her chest, and he buzzes in her brain, anticipation like a cat waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey. It’s like a game to him, she thinks, this push and pull, making her want him, and she’s not so sure it’s one she’s prepared to play. 

She’s saved by Sookie, who steps up beside them and informs them that Bill wants to have a word with Eric—something about werewolves giving them shit a few days ago. Eric leaves her with a tip of his head, and Sookie leans back against the table beside her, her blonde ponytail flipping when she whips her head to face Cam.

“So I noticed you invited Eric,” she says cryptically, as if this is news to her, like he wasn’t literally standing in front of her just a moment ago. Cam takes a sip of her beer to hide a chuckle at that and swallows.

“Well, he’s hard not to notice,” Cam responds, eyeing the way Eric towers nearly six inches over Bill where they stand, across the room. Sookie follows her gaze, then smiles—sappy, the way she always does when she sees Bill—and follows it with a concerned frown.

“Is he giving you trouble?” 

“No more trouble than my last job. He runs his organization fairly, utilizes my skills in a way that’s comfortable for me. I have no complaints.” 

“Bill worries about you,” Sookie murmurs, bumping their arms together, and the thought is sweet, but a little maddening.

“He shouldn’t. I’m just saying,” she continues when her cousin gives her an unhappy look, “he wanted Eric to leave you alone, and he got that. I didn’t do it for the sake of your relationship, but it’s an inadvertent perk, so why worry?” Sookie sighs and brings her hand up, spends too much time staring at her own nails.

“Eric’s not like Bill, that’s all. He’s bloodthirsty. He doesn’t care the same way Bill does.” 

They’d been through this already, Cam thinks, but it is comforting to know they’re looking out for her, despite the suffocating way they choose to show it. Cam nods. 

“And I understand that. I accept it. I’ve worked with all kinds of vampires; some are warm and fuzzy, some aren’t, just like humans. I wouldn’t date a guy who doesn’t care whether I live or die, but I don’t mind working for one. I know I’m a valuable asset to him and that he’ll protect me because of that. That’s our agreement.”

“I don’t think Bill’s worried he’d let you die,” Sookie says, looking over at the men again. They’re looking over at the girls, and she averts her gaze quickly. “I think he’s worried that he wants you—and I am too, with the way he gets so close to you. He looks at you like a dog looks at meat.”

Cam can’t cover her laugh then, but she makes it quick and just shrugs as Sookie stares at her, the line between her eyebrows wrinkled and tense. 

“Harder to protect me from across the room, I guess,” she replies, even though she does feel a thrill at the thought that Eric could want her, for real. Sookie presses her lips together—and for a moment Cam swears she looks just like Gran—and nods her head.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” she says, taking a sip of the drink in her hand, and when Eric walks back over to Cam, Sookie passes him without looking up or saying a word. Cam has a few drinks, and before she can ask, Eric takes her car keys and guides her to the passenger’s seat, opens the door for her. 

“I could stay at Sookie’s,” she says when he leans down to make sure she’s comfortable before closing the door. She looks up at him with deep, wide eyes that sparkle a little in the moonlight. “You don’t have to drive me.” 

“I want to drive you,” he tells her, and he tucks her leg in and shuts the door. He walks around the car and gets into the driver’s seat; when he looks over at her, she’s staring at him… fondly, maybe? He can’t quite tell, but it’s a warm feeling, one he enjoys. 

“As long as you’re sure we have enough time before sunrise. I don’t want it to cook you,” she says, and when he reaches up to put the key in the ignition, she rests her hand on his arm. “I like you too much for it to cook you. Okay?”

Eric feels his own rush of affection at her confession, at her touch, and he puts his hand on hers and leans in, looks seriously into her eyes. 

“I promise, we’ll be home before sunrise,” he assures. She exhales softly at that, nods her head a little, and they part, shifting into their own respective seats. 

The ride back to her apartment is quiet, though she keeps looking over at him for reasons he can’t decipher. Her gaze moves to the window when he catches her looking, and he finds that really… cute.

He used to be terrifying. He used to be formidable. Now he’s a designated driver with a crush, a glorified bodyguard to the girl he’s absolutely enamored of. How far the mighty fall.

He walks her to her door, proper escort that he is, and when she invites him in, he considers it. He’d considered it last time, too, when she was wearing tight running clothes, smelling like heaven, but nothing good would come of it then, and nothing good would come of it now. He declines, and she takes it in stride, but lingers in the doorway, the silence between them shifting from companionable to weighted. He looks her over, in her jeans and tank top, hair falling over her shoulder, and his mind… wanders. It’s unfair how beautiful she is, how close and yet still so very far away from him.

“Is there something else?” he asks eventually, taking a step closer to her, and as if she’s made up her mind, she nods resolutely. 

“Yes. I’m waiting for you to kiss me goodnight.”

Eric doesn’t need to be told twice. Slowly but purposefully, he climbs the stairs, and she’s watching him, looking at him like she wants him. 

He has to admit, he’s surprised by her forwardness—even drunk, he never would have expected her to admit to wanting anything to do with him, let alone to ask for it.

This kiss is gentler than the one they shared at the party, the one that went from purely a distraction to somewhat of an awakening for Eric. He’d been almost astounded that after all these centuries he was even capable of being surprised by his own desires. He holds her around the waist, brings a hand up to brush her jaw, and she makes a low, contented noise and wraps her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

The hand on her face moves to caress her throat—the throat he thinks about more often than he should, the one he imagines licking and biting and squeezing at all hours of the night—and she sighs happily at his touch, presses into it like her body is asking for all the things her mind won’t let her say. 

It’s his hope that one day she will say them, that he’ll be worthy of the attention she gives him, the kindness, but he knows that kind of thinking can only lead to madness. 

He steps back to break the kiss, because if it were up to him they’d never stop kissing, but she didn’t ask for that; her mouth is kiss-red when they part, and she runs her tongue over it like she’s savoring him before nodding her head and reaching back for the door handle. 

“Thank you,” she says, and though his brain is buzzing with her, he just nods, keeps his cool, exhales. 

“You’re welcome.”  She’s glad he doesn’t linger this time, because she dreams of him.

[keelt9]

Chapter 10 (Final)

A/N: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. 🧡

I’ve been thinking about an epilogue but I don’t know, I don’t want to mess up anything, so I’ll keep that in mind.

I’ll write to you soon.🧡

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Masterlist

The fireworks it's my item on the photo wall. Now every photo on my wall, metaphorically or literally has a firework on it.

"Ready?" Mom softly knocks my door perking in it. 

It's the conference game for the championship, Joe didn't have to ask if I was going to be there or not. 

"Yes, one second." I just revealed new photos for my wall and my favorite by far is the one his mother took from us playing under the moonlight in his parents backyard, a lot of snowballs.

Archie it's definitely at the limit of his excitement. Joe insisted we must watch the game from the box, so each second Archie expanded his smile. By the half of the game the Bengals were up by a touchdown and my throat feels pretty sore already.

All week Joe has been fully focused and still makes his time to call me from time to time, both of us have been busy with work lately.

"There you are!" Leah raises her phone, a picture of me chatting with Joe in his warm ups appears on the screen. "Joe Burrow's girlfriend on the field in a lovely moment."

I chuckle because the photograph took pretty well the angle of my kissing his lips as he pulls me by my waist.

"Joe definitely will want that." Mrs. Burrow hugged me with a proud smile.

The last quarter was a cardiac one; Bills came closer to them leaving them the Bengal up just for one point and our faces speak for ourselves, we're dying of nervousness.

A turnover of B.J let them keep the ball for the rest of the quarter, if the OL kept him covered he would work to increase the difference of points. Joe scanned the field with urgency feeling already tackles over him, he threw a dime finding Chase but with our bad eyes it seems he didn't get the ball before fall.

"I can't see." I hid on Peter's shoulder covering my eyes, hearing the awful silence.

>IT GOT HIM! First and goal for the Bengals. 

The crowd in Paycor turns wild; when I lift my eyes, Joe is totally fired up, he just has to do what he knows, be him.

The final score light on 31-24, they're the Champions of the AFC one more time; in the box screams and claps couldn't wait. Neither I, who runs down to the field, can't wait for him.

As I reached the field a lot of family and friends were coming too. Among the crowd cameras and reporters I found Joe congratulating Zach, by the time he opened his eyes I was already waiting for him.

"Babe!" He let his helmet go down and lift me in a big hug. "You did it!" 

He breathes in on my neck as I close my eyes feeling so distant the noises and cameras of us. 

"Go, I just want to hug you but people are waiting for the champions." He chuckles, kissing me deeply.

"Don't you dare to move from here." He said point where I'm standing. "Love you!"

Seeing him standing with a trophy however looking for me in the crowd confirms, some risks are totally worth it.

Pam surprised me with balloons falling from the door, a cake in her hands and a loud “Happy birthday!”

“Make a wish!” I close my eyes blowing the candle. “Yeah.” Pam leaves the cake on my desk and hugs me softly.

“Thank you.” I hug her and I see the bag on my chair. “Pam.” 

“Open it. I hope you like it.” I took the bag immediately and I knew what it was.

“Oh my, you don’t have too.”

Months ago when we were doing our Christmas shopping I saw an old camera in an antiquity store. I refused to buy it because the shoppings was left me without money but Pam has a good memory.

We chat a while before we have to come back to work about my plans for the day and if my family is coming.

“You’re parents?” I shake my head. My parents want to come but in 3 weeks I have a Monday off so I decided to go home for the weekend. “Peter is out of question, kid in the school. Joe?”

After the loss of the Super Bowl, Joe decided to spend that week alone. He explained to me right now, not even from himself is the most nice company and doesn't want to ruin my birthday. That’s the issue, the SB, turns out to be a weekend before your birthday.

“Joe is busy with all the post things game.” I tried not to sound concerned but Pam knows me well.

“Still mad?” Pam sits one more time. 

“It’s not mad, he has been a little too hard on himself.” The knock on my door interrupted our talk.

In the door appear a big bouquet of flowers and a balloon, and an amazing writer holding them.

“Happy birthday!” Lucy enters pulling her boyfriend who is holding a box with a big ribbon on the top of it. 

“Lucy! I thought you'd come until next week.” I stand for she and her boyfriend wish me a happy birthday. 

“I am, this is a small…” She thinks in her words. “Stop.” 

Her boyfriend laughed and explained she didn't want to miss my birthday even if it’s just for giving me a hug.

“I hope you like it, if Lucy gave enough time, I could do something better.” I open the box inside an embroidered sweater with my favorite colors. 

After all it seems it’s going to be a good day. “It’s fantastic and the flowers, perfect, thank you so much.”

Claire orders me that if I don't take the day of my birthday at least I should go home earlier and rest, but Lucy warns me about something she will bring and I want to progress in all I can. By 7 pm, I found Claire leaving the office too. She scolded me about not leaving earlier, and still she wished me a happy birthday.

“I’m talking seriously Y/N, the food will arrive at your apartment. I’ll know if you don’t go right there.” Claire “threatened” me with her cellphone while walking to her car. “Don't make me take away your promotion.” I giggle, waving my hand to the other side of the parking lot.

As I get in the elevator I keep replaying the video of Archie singing me a happy birthday as my brother plays the piano and Nora signs along with him too; at the end Archie walks closer to the camera holding it blowing a kiss, “I love you aunt” was the last thing you could hear.

Probably I should do what Claire told me and leave earlier for rest; my neck is really tense, while I walk to my apartment I grab it and move in circles trying to make it more loose.

Inside a warm light it’s in the middle of the hallway, as you walk closer you can see it’s a cupcake with a candle.

“I’m sorry that is not enough, right?” Joe appears in one of the doors of the bedroom, puffy eyes sing that he probably hasn’t slept well. 

I choke my head and open my arms. “Isn’t even necessary, I understand.” Joe sighs deeply. “However, I don't mind a birthday hug.” 

Joe chuckles and lifts me in one big hug, hiding his face on my neck. “Happy birthday babe.” He whispered to me.

"I need that photo." After a long days of endless activities Joe finally has a day of rest before another week of meetings and talks begins.

"That's mine, sorry." I show him the new pictures on my wall, especially the one of the warm ups of the Championship.

It’s late at night, Joe had me next to him, my legs over his lap. In a quick move he tried to take the photo of my hands so now I'm completely under him. 

"Ok, ok, god, you're heavy! But one condition." He narrowed his eyes. 

"Anything." A mischievous smile makes him choke his head, grabbing my things as he sits back with me in his laps.

"No! It's not that! Oh my god!" He clicked his tongue. "Be serious with me.”

Joe shakes his head and nods. "Don’t be so hard on you." Joe grabs my face pulling out foreheads closer.

"I love you." He kisses my lips then looks straight to my eyes; I see his blue eyes full of love. 

I kiss his forehead. "I love you too.” I take a deep breath grabbing his face. “You know I do anything for that smile right?" 

"Yes ma'am, now give me the photo." I laughed and gave him the photo winning a breathless kiss.

The next morning Joe was surprised about the fact I actually didn't take a day off for my birthday not before and of course not after it.

“But it’s your birthday.” I’m searching my blazer in the closet as he follows me like a lost puppy. 

“Was, it was my birthday.” I found it. “I have to go, but hey, in 3 weeks I have a day off and I’ll be Cinncinati, ok?”

I give him a peck before going. “No, no, no, wait.” He grabs my hand. “Are you sure? I mean…” He tosses his hair. “I have to go this afternoon, I was expecting to celebrate…”

“I promise, now I have to go or I’ll be late.” I check my watch. “Love you!” I scream before closing the door Joe pouting waving his hands.

Like Lucy promised, as soon as she “officially” came back, she entered my office with papers of multiple colors in her hand; she said she had a lot of ideas but nothing clear, so she was hoping for a helpful eye. That’s how I spend 3 weeks between Lucy’s work and a few manuscripts I have to deliver to Claire.

“Anyway, I’ll be a call away, ok?” It’s my last call of the day. “Yes, Lucy, I got it.” Pam enters her purse on her shoulder ready to go. “Ok, bye.”

I laid back in my chair hearing Pam giggle. “Are you leaving today?” I move my finger, yes.

I bought my ticket for the middle night, hoping to spend a little bit more time with Joe but out of the blue he has to do his chek ups out of Cincinnati, he expects to be there in 2 days.

“My bags are there.” I point to the corner of my office, Pam laughs. “I’ll call a cab after going to dinner.”

“Let’s go, this is on me.” Pam stands grabbing my bags. 

In the elevator both of us realize this is the first time she and I take an extra day at the same time. 

“You think Clare is going to be fine?”  Pam asks, we look at each other and chuckle.

By the morning, I have 6 hours of sleep and a stomach growling. When I go down I see my parents making breakfast.

“What are you doing here?” Mom scoffed at me moving around the kitchen.

“Good morning to you.” Dad laughs taking out from the oven bread for sandwiches. “The coffee shop has a little issue.” 

I look at them, dad nods and clarify. “We’re painting so it’s been closed for a couple of days, nothing serious.” 

Mom put a plate with fruit in front of me. “What are your plans for the day?” I sit turning around in the stool.

“I was expecting to have a full day with my boyfriend, then go to have dinner with Leah but apparently they’re busy.” My days off aren't going as I plan. “So nothing, do you have something in mind?”

My parents look at each other like they’re in trouble. “You have plans, right?”

“Mrs. Carmichael, invite us to domino night, so we’re hoping…not it’s ok we can cancel it.” I shake my head, I don’t want to ruin my parents night.

“No, please go, I’ll find out what to do. Tomorrow we can spend the day together.” My dad kissed the top of my head. 

“We hope that.” I narrowed my eyes, they probably had plans too.

My day passed watching old films, cleaning my old room and sleeping from time to time; my parents were ready to go around 9 pm, arguing about something in the coffee shop.

“You should check it before closing.” Mom complains coming downstairs.

“I’ll go and meet you with Mrs. Carmichael, don’t worry.” Dad tried to calm her but her eyes only scream more anger.

I roll my eyes. It seems I finally have the chance to do something else. “What happened?”

Mom sighs. “Your dad forgot the keys of the house in the coffee shop and guess what? Yes, from the car too.” 

Mrs. Carmichael doesn’t live more than 2 blocks away, so her anger must be because they have to wake me up to getting in. 

“It’s all right, I will go for them, besides I want to have dinner outside.” Mom was about to complain. “I’ll go change and go, don’t worry.” 

I ran upstairs and didn't give them time to replay something. “My keys are on the table next to the door!” 

As I get down from the cab I notice the curtains down but still, a glimpse of light, if dad leaves the light on and mom finds out, he will be in trouble. I shake my head and giggle as I walk to the door.

But there were no bright lights on as I think, it was a new type, small light bubbles hanging in the ceiling, and a few papers too. As I walk closer the bubble lights help to see there aren't papers hanging on the wall, it’s actually polaroids.

“What the…” I grab one and turn around, the photo is me and Joe, laughing with the Christmas tree at our back. The second one I grab it’s us in pjs watching movies on his sofa. The third one is a selfie he took, me at his back reading some papers.

Then a soft music is heard on the piano, “Enchanted”; at the window Joe is sitting there playing the piano, above him three small light bubbles hanging from the ceiling. He turns slightly, smiles at me and turns back and keeps playing until the last notes.

I clap for him as he recalls sitting with a slight tremble in his hands. 

“Beautiful.” I raise my sight seeing the ceiling cover with photos. “All of it.”

Joe chuckles. “Even so, I’m hoping to get my favorite one soon.” 

“Is it not here?” I narrow my eyes, he shakes his head pointing to the back, at the other side of the coffee shop.

“There is a peek of what I want. The one with the red ribbon.” I smile at him walking where he’s pointing.

On the way I saw a lot of photos I had never seen before, some taken by him and others, probably a good contribution of friends and family.

I see the red ribbon. “This one?” Turning around to face him, he nods. 

In the photo, I can see Joe in a jewelry shop looking at something in the glass cabinet, full focus.

“Mhm, new diamonds?” I don’t understand. “Hey, I love how that sunglasses looks on you.” 

I take a closer look at the photo, slowly noticing the details. “No…This is not, rig…”

I see what he wants me to see.

Joe is standing in front of me with a black velvet box biting his lips; my hands start to shake as any coherents words come, just mumblings keeping my fingers stuck to my lips. 

“Joe?” He giggles and opens it, inside there is a ring that emits a soft golden glow.

The band is simple and elegant with clean lines, at the center a captivating tanzanite sparkles, its blue-violet hues shifting with the light. .

“Will you marry me?” I cover my face sitting on the floor, he laughs and sits in front of me too.  

I asked him with tears in my eyes. “What should I do?”

Joe shuggers his shoulders. “A yes will be an amazing answer.” I look at him, he chuckles. “But it’s your choice after all.”

I hug him so tight as he extends his legs for I can sit on his lap, feeling his heartbeat so fast, it just feels like being at home, safe and protected.

“Are you going to put it on my finger or what?” I laugh and split slightly, facing him. “Yes, I will.”

In Joe's face appears a side to side smile and a tear roll from his face, he grabs my hand and puts the ring on kissing my lips, in a tender way.

“This fits perfectly.” I said to him looking at my new ring. 

“Thank god because Chase was pretty judgy that day.” Both of us laugh. The idea of him and Joe searching for a ring is hilarious.

“I actually didn’t mean the ring.” He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I got a promotion, in which Claire said I can work remotely if I want too.” His eyes are bright. “Don't be over excited, I still have to go to the office frequently.”

He grabbed my face and kissed me one more time. “So, Joe Burrow, will you be my home?”

Joe bites his lip, tingles his finger with mine. “Always.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Almost forgot, any request, it’s now open.

[faceeeeee]

I wonder if you made backstories for the tadc employees or smh-

(I wanna know Gangle's :3)

I have some concepts and ideas in my mind but it's all very vague and I haven't written anything down so forgive me for any incoherent sentences or messy writting:

Pam:

Ever since she left for college she cut all contact with her family and "friends" (she calls them acquaintances/contacts) and put all of her attention in her studies. She graduated at the top of her class in computer sciences and got hired at C&A almost immediately. The moment she left college she noticed a sudden shift in her routine. She dedicated her entire life into her studies and grades and completely disregarded any social interactions, hobbies.... She excepted that when she got a job, all of her problems would've been solved but she found out that she was wrong. Her first few months at the company were okay to say the least but as time went by she felt more and more empty and depressed. Her lack of social skills and pride didn't help either and rejected all of her coworker's attempts to befriend her. So she spent her time either overworking herself, drinking or sleeping. She worked in that company for 5 whole years: Her sleep schedule was a mess, her salary wasn't exactly ideal and she started taking anti-depresants and a hunch of other stuff and Reggie's disappearance (or "temporary departure") took a toll on her. Not only because her boss decided to make her the head of her department but also because he was the only one who was still willing to talk to her. So now she was left with a bunch of deadlines and work and the only one who even looked at her and said hello every morning was now gone. Her life was shit, basically, so why not try again in a new life, a new world and with new memories?

Reggie:

Good ol' Reggie has been working in the company for 18 years now and he couldn't be happier. He had a decent childhood, a loving wife and a decent job that keeps the both of them stable! And a father-daughter relationship with Genevieve, so he couldn't be more happy with life! The only thing he wishes is that he could have more time to spend with his family and his hobbies (he keeps and collects cool bugs, obviously :) ) and that the company wasn't so strict with deadlines and such. He is the head of the programming department so he has a lot of work on his plate...but it's all for a good cause: the digital circus! In his eyes, it's a magical place that helps people to to distract themselves for a while and to have a little fun before they return to their normal lives! So you can imagine his excitement once his boss told him that they were going to let the staff be actual play testers! He was ECSTATIC! he spent YEARS fixing and refining the digital plains so of course he decided to be one of the first playtesters. Queenie was a little hesitant at first but he told her not to worry! He knew that the code was a little finicky at times but that's okay! He has Pam and the rest of the staff to take care of it if anything goes wrong, after all he wholeheartedly trusts them :) nothing could possibly go wrong right?

Jack:

Dear Jack....the C.E.O's son. He has been wandering around the company for a few years now, working in some low paying positions to earn a little pocket money from his parent. He's known as the office's little miscreant as he just goofs around all day and nobody can touch him or say anything cause if they do they're gonna get fired! Ain't that fun? But his luck runs out when even the C.E.O has had enough of his bullshit and offers him to take a little time off from his studies and work to go and be a beta testers for his folks vr experience. Ain't that idea fun? Just log in, fuck around and then come back for dinner, right?

Agatha:

Agatha, a hard working gal with lots of siblings to take care off. Her folks aren't around to help her so she takes care of em all throughout college until she gets the position in the robotics department! She goes up the ranks and even becomes the head of her department :). She mainly works with the headset design and with the new technology that the company has introduced. She has never seen anything like it: with it you can feel and hear your surroundings whilst hooked to the digital plains. So when she heard that they were offering people to beta test the digital world she couldn't help but to want to experience all of those things herself! She does wonder why they have to have her sign a contract but she trusts the company. She has been with them for some time now and the staff and boss have been nice to her so far, so why wouldn't she trust them?

Genevieve:

Dear Genevieve has had a sort of rocky life. Her mother has been very overprotective over her and that has left her with no real life experiences. She was homeschooled almost her entire life so when she entered college she had a hard time adjusting to her new routines. She's very explosive emotionally and very finicky over her personal space so she couldn't (or didn't want to) make acquaintances and so, she made it to the company with no connections apart from her obsessive mother, just like Pam. She worked a year and a half in the company, and that was enough time to meet and befriend Reggie. At first she was very wary of him and very hostile to him. But good ol' Reggie just keeps saying hi to her every morning, just like he does with every employee he sees. One day, when they were both on break, Reggie tried to break the ice and tried to start some small talk with her. She got scared and basically yelled all sorts of barbaric things to him and he just gave her a warm smile. Nothing can hurt this man, god. Genevieve was surprised that he hadn't yelled back at her or left and stared at him for a while. Then guilt overcame her and she started sobbing. Reggie comforted her as best as he could and since then they formed a bond. So when she learned that he had left to be a beta tester she was again left alone in the office. Desperate for his comfort and precense she decided to follow him to the digital circus...

Zephyr:

They had a relatively normal life (apart from an accident that left them without a bloody leg but it's alright), graduated from art school and started working at C&A. They overestimated the pressure and stress that came with working at the company to the point that they were exhausted. They would've left if it wasn't for the fact that getting a job with their degree was extremely difficult and the chances for getting hired were very slim. So they kept on working. They worked day and night. A million coffee cups had started to pile up on their desk and they had severe bags under their eyes. They were tired, so very fucking tired. Why wouldn't they try to escape reality for a bit? Goof around in the digital plains, maybe use it as some sort of rage room. Maybe they could do all of the things that they had thought of without any consequences. Yeah, just for a little bit....it couldn't hurt, right?

[ravennaortiz]

Juices Sex Shop Adventures Story 3

Summary: Our boy is now a professional sex shop customer! An interesting purchase leads to some uncomfortableness for some club members.

As always my stories are 18+

“I can’t believe you brought our models here” you laughed as you and Juice walked hand in hand to the clubhouse. Juice chuckled as he shook his head. “I know I know. Not ideal but I was so excited when Pam sent the text. I couldn’t wait and was worried she would be closed by the time we could get them. I’m sure no one will mess with them. Boxes are plain and just say my name” he replied as you just shook you head. “I’m sure Miss Pam would have waited or even delivered them to the house. She has a soft spot for you Mr. Customer of the Year” you joked. “What’s wrong?” you inquired as you realized Juice had stopped in his tracks and he was staring over your shoulder in horror.

“For fuck sakes” you muttered as you turned following his gaze to where the ripped open boxes were scattered around the floor. The club had clearly been snooping and not only had your torso models out but the simple replica fleshlight and replica dildo vibrator as well. You truly couldn’t decide what was worse. That neither your or Juice could speak or move. That the whole club was seeing your lifelike replicas, which they seemed to not have connected the dots to yet. Tig fondling the pierced nipples of your model. Or the way when Tig turned to show your dad his eyes instantly snapped to yours as he yelled at Tig to stop fondling his daughter. Or the loud thud of the torso hitting the floor and the silence that followed.

Few minutes before

“What is all this shit?” asked Tig as he shook the boxes on the table. “Juices packages he went to get earlier” replied Halfsack as he sipped his beer. “Interesting” stated Tig as he yanked his knife off his belt and started to cut the tape. “Umm” started Halfsack unsure if he should stop him or not. “A man has a knife and you want to tell him what to do? That a good life choice?” asked Tig as he raised his eyebrow and pointed the knife towards Halfsack. Juice will be back in soon, thought Half to himself as he shook his head and went back to watching Jax and Opie play pool, he can deal with Tig.

“The hell is this. Guess the boy ain’t pleasing the missus” chuckled Tig as he pulled out a dildo showing it to Chibs and Bobby who had joined him at the table. “Weird” stated Bobby as he looked at the torso inside noting it had the same tattoos as Juice before pushing it off to the side as Tig tossed the dildo back in the box before tossing it to the floor.

“Shouldn’t be messing with the kids stuff Tig” warned Chibs as he grinned and shook his head as Tig pulled out a fleshlight.”That is what I said” stated Half as he turned back to the table. “Kid shouldn’t have left them here looking like presents” replied Tig as he pushed his fingers in and out of the toy. “Shit is super soft” he muttered to himself before tossing it on the table as he made a mental note to inquire where Juice got it.

“What do we have here folks” whistled Tig as he pulled a female torso out. “Damn the tits on this thing are so real and its soft as fuck” he stated finally garnering the whole groups attention. ”Also shit is pierced”. He added.  Halfsack practically spat his beer out as he caught sight of the ass tattoo the torso had and the crow tattoo over the left hip. From the look on Chibs face he knew he was seeing it to and realizing these were more lifelike than Tig knew. Before either man could speak Happy joined the group right as Tig started to flick the nipple and his hands travelled down between its thighs.

“The fuck is that?” rasped Happy as he moved to take a seat at the table. “Some weird shit your son in law got. Shit is soft and lifelike you should feel its” started to answer Tig as he turned to Happy. Happy frowned as his eyes landed past Tig on Juice who was staring horrified at the group. Happys eyes caught sight of the property of Juice Ortiz tattoo on the ass of the torso and snapped his eyes to his daughters face. Her expression mirrored Juices and confirmed his suspicions. “Stop fondling my kid” snapped Happy as he stood up shoving Tig who upon now seeing the backside of the torso dropped it quickly.

Present                                                                                                                                                                                               

“I’m going to the car. Go get our stuff and join me quickly. We then can decide if we are moving or driving off a bridge or something” you muttered flustered as you spun around and took off back out of the clubhouse. Leaving Juice to fend for himself with your dad. “No, babe please” begged Juice as he tried to grab you to keep you by his side but you were to quick.

“Gentlemen. I’ll be taking my purchases and leaving. Thanks for this” snapped Juice trying to pretend to not be bothered as he reboxed the toys. “Sorry” mumbled Tig as he kept his gaze averted. No one else spoke except for the occasional snicker that slipped through from Chibs and Jax. Juice avoided the heated gaze of Happy and was letting out a breath or relieve as he started to walk away. “My daughter is your property huh” stated Happy stopping Juice in his tracks. Yep there it was thought Juice. The last words he heard before he died. “Honestly I was just as shocked when I saw it man. She did that on her own” deflected Juice before starting to move again back to the doors. You abandoned him so he was going to pull you under the bus as well.

Home

“Well so much for using these tonight” you stated letting out a small laugh as you found Juice in the play room cleaning the torsos off. Juice sighed as he shook his head. “Not sure I’ll ever be able to look at let alone use them ever after tonight. Also lesson learned about taking packages to the clubhouse. “Well at least we have the real thing that can’t be spoiled” you stated as you let your robe fall slip off your shoulders making Juice grin. "Also its your turn to be cuffed mister. So pants off and hands behind your back" you stated as you walked to him twirling a pair of pink cheetah print handcuffs.

Return to Series Masterlist

[differenteagletragedy]

Hi, I was wondering if you would be comfortable doing headcanons of a adult (similar age to Cliff) mc x Cliff and mc becoming like a step-parent to Cove? Feel free to ignore if you’re not comfortable doing this, thanks

I am SO comfortable doing this, love Cliff so so much!

-- Cliff wouldn't date until Cove was out of the house, or at least in his later teen years. He felt SO BAD uprooting his life with the divorce, he wouldn't dare risk it to be selfish enough to get into a relationship.

-- The only way he WOULD get into a relationship with Cove still at home is if he had his express approval, and even then he wouldn't bring you around a lot at first. He's just going to be so incredibly cautious with Cove, he's his number one priority.

-- Anyway, all this means that Cliff is going to be mid to late 30s when you get together, hope that's cool :)

-- He wouldn't really be looking for a relationship either, so you're really gonna have to take the lead here at first. But listen -- he is going to be so sweet. You won't even believe it.

-- Maybe you're a friend of Pam or Noelani's, or maybe you meet him at his shop. You don't even have to be sporty like that, though you could be! You could also be looking for a gift for a sporty friend, taking a scuba lesson with someone, etc. etc. Anyway, you meet and he is smitten, but it has been A LONG TIME since he was in a relationship, and even then it wasn't a good one. And before that he was a teenager.

-- He made some mistakes in his marriage, some huge ones, but he learned from them, and he'd never ever repeat him.

-- Ok so this is going to be the slowest slow burn you have ever heard of in your life, but he is SO worth the wait.

-- This is because he's worried about hurting Cove, he's worried about not doing right by you, he thinks you deserve better than some guy who's never managed to maintain a healthy romantic relationship in his life. But he just likes you so much, and it's been forever since he's felt this way. It feels nice!

-- Put those moves on him, MC, you need to be really clear here that you like him and want to be with him because he's not going to move forward otherwise.

-- So we're talking like 2-3 months of just getting to know each other, more months of dating, like specifically going out. He might go back to your place, but it would have to be a while for him to feel comfortable with that. After several months of this, talking more and more, being more open about your feelings, then he can finally settle down a little bit and let you in more.

-- Still super slowly though. The first time Cliff invites you over to his house is when Cove is gone in the summer staying with Kyra, absolutely no chance of him walking in. He cooks you dinner. You don't stay the night, but maybe by the end of Cove's visit you do.

*someone please write the spicy interlude here, it would be so good*

-- This is when he might bring the topic up to Cove, when he's for sure this is a real thing that he wants very much to go somewhere very seriouus.

-- Cove would be older here, like I think baby Cove would have had an issue with Cliff dating, but at like 16, 17, he's fine with it. He wants his dad to be happy! Cliff would have told him about you sort of in passing, nothing in big detail, but he'd sit him down and explain that he has very deep feelings for you and ask if he'd like to meet you. Cove would be fine with this I think, but he'd probably want to have across the street bestie/significant other over.

-- Cliff cooks everyone dinner. You have heard so much about Cove. So, so much. You've seen pictures and videos. Cliff is the proudest dad that ever was, and tbh if you're going to be with him, you're going to have to love that. So you do! He's the biggest sweetheart you've ever met.

-- Things are a bit awkward, it is Cove after all, but they're ok. And so a while later, maybe after a few weeks, Cliff invites you over again.

-- This part goes on for a while too. You never stay over when Cove is there, and he never stays over at your place either, he wouldn't want to leave Cove alone like that. So after a while, Cove will sit him down and let him know that it's ok. Cliff doesn't have to hold back on his account. If he wants you to come over more often, that's fine. If he spends the night in the house alone every once in a while, that's fine too, he's a big boy and he's got moms across the street.

-- So really, either way you cut it, I don't think you'd ever live with Cliff while Cove is still at home. The timeline just wouldn't work out. But parenting doesn't end when a kid turns 18, and neither does good stepparenting! Once Cove moves out on his own and establishes himself, and Cliff is confident that his baby bird has fully left the nest, then there's going to be a shift.

-- Please come over more often, or invite him over, whatever, he just wants to be with you. He's been cautious for months/years, but he is so ridiculously in love with you.

-- He's not going to leave the house in Sunset Bird, so he'll ask you to move in with him. Please do! He'll think about marriage for a loooong time before finally proposing -- he'd never make those same mistakes that he made with Kyra, but you deserve the best and he needs to feel confident that he's it before taking that step.

-- What if you and Cliff give Cove a little baby sibling. Something to think about!

-- Cove is never going to treat you like he treats Cliff and Kyra, and that's fine. Especially as he gets older though, he's so grateful that you found his dad and found it in your heart to love him. It makes him so happy to know that even now that he's left home, Cliff still has someone there to take care of.

[halevren]

FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 10

Happy mid season episode! I am saddened by the fact that I work on Wednesdays because I will be late to watch fhjy until the forseeable future. If anyone cares though I plan on buying the adya statuette next week if my finances allow for it :3 also I am so tired rn but I NEED to watch fhjy

Do you guys think ayda will appear in this episode after her statuette was released last week? (Praying)

tttaking over teenage rebellion!

Lucy Frostblade... You were just a girl. You didn't deserve everything that happened to you

"We're feeling bad. But we're feeling... Hopefully positive."

stress isn't always the bed guy

Aelwyn!

big old burned down house

Cottoncandy Bitchfuck

"I'm.... Bored. That's not true. I'm not bored at all. I'm just tired."

Hindesight is 50/50

"Oh I love this. Tell me all about it."

Siobhan is loving Aelwyn rn

"I do sometimes believe in you"

"So Sentimental"

Aelwyn and Adaine are so important to me their sibling relationship is everything

AELWYN AND ADAINE NOT BEING USED TO NICENESS

"Oh, my sweet little boy is sick!"

"just don't tell fab— don't tell anyone my apartment looks like this"

The Gukgak

I'm the Gukgak guy!

"Oh, Riz, you have to sleep, Kiddo." "I can't, mom, I don't have time." Oh Riz....

Framed?

Riz is so exhausted

It's been an hour and a half and his mom has chips and a drink 😭😭

"Mom, you have to be so careful."

"Keep my name out of your mouth." FIG 😭😭

"it's all good, mom"

yulenear

"Fig has like 3 majors now" "maybe 4, i might take a level of wizard."

"Kristen Applebees, believe it or not." "... huh." HWHHWKWNEB

"You both keep my name out of your mouth."

"It's been our month!"

Lola Embers recommended Gorgug's place??

"Mom I'm going to go to Loam farm."

*shrug* "mom." *shrug*

"We're having a rough one." "GOT 'EM."

"I'll do it." Fig cleric teacher?!?!

TAMAGOTCHI. MaryAnn my beloves

The puppet master!

"Ha Ha! Darling Girl!"

Gilear is king for the day

"My mom called you?"

"I don't need a ride to school anymore"

"I believe she's wanted here."

BUSINESS CLASS FOR CLOACA

"Can I say hi??"

NOOOOOOO NOOO SHE HUNG UP BEFORE FABIAN COULD ANSWER

That's so devastating

Coffee all over the DM screen

Yeah they haven't addressed the fact that fig is cursed

Pussy out, tits away

Theres so much going on

ohhh they might be sacrificing the rats

"I'm wearing a sports bra and a G-string, and I want to be closer with all of you."

Fabian with Mazey is so painful. He's so flustered and awkward I love him

MAZEY TRUSTS FABIAN

"I'm here, for you."

"Kristen was in a mood."

NOO DON'T KILL MAZEY SAVE HER FABIAN

Fried rice

SHE LEANS IN TO MAKE OUT

THIS IS SO EMBARRASSIJG

"Wait, they don't like us??"

"When you think about me, why do you always bring up the ball?"

SHE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE'S OKAY BECAUSE HE'S ALOne

oh Fabian...,...........

"The legend continues."

"I was going to get a tattoo, actually."

"Even if you weren't maximum legend, I would still wanna hang out with you." MAZEEYYYYY 😭😭😭😭

BOGGY

Absence of divinity???

THE GOD'S DOMAIN CHANGED OVER TIME????

RUVINA'S SIBLING??

The gift is only mentioned in old texts??

"Well I guess I'll go to work."

Basrar is dead

"Literally your circus, literally your monkeys."

Tips are bad

RODEO MODE

THE MIDDLE SCHOOL FOR A SPEECH???

NOOO NAT ONE

Check the soil kids

Lydia mention 🔥🔥🔥

Kristen holds so much hostility for Kalina 😭😭

Oh Lydia...

AV club mention

THIRTY ROLL 🔥🔥🔥🔥

The powerhouse of the cell

Aggression and protectiveness

7 becomes a 21?!?!!

?!?!?!?!?! SOMETHING COMING OUT OF HER CHEST???

22 Arcana, 25 religion

Elemental alignment???

Fiendish things going on

Yellow gold

Kinda like the pride of armor and lemon yogurt

PISS CURSE????

Ratgrinders sticker

"I don't get angry, I think I get sad sometimes" me too buddy, me too

Sometimes a spell comes out and obliterates people

Comedy of errors

Autopilot

Bobby Dawn and Pam Dawn

Bobby Dawn coming to Aguefort sounds like a bad thing

"I'll never let you do that."

"Yours only came back once." *middle finger* Kristen Applebees you will always be famous

A+ in paladin classes!

"Sorry! Get away from me"

Reasons he won't divulge???

A+ in all classes!!!

THREE PARAGRAPH ESSAY? NOOO ABOUT SADNESS AND DISAPPOINTMENT NOOOOO

FIG NAT 20 FOR THE INSIGHT 😭

Zara is gorgeous

The days of Goldenhoard is over 😭😭

"MY GOD IS KRISTEN????"

Oh my god I almost prophesied this when I said Kristen would become a cleric/warlock of Fig.... instead Fig is the warlock/paladin of Kristen 😭😭😭

I'm the closest thing to a prophet holy shit

New god, agreement, todo list

Complicated Women: Lucy Frostblade 😭😭

NAT 20 DECEPTION FOR WANDA CHILDA

Oh my god

"Frick. I'm so sorry." "I'm not." Wanda Childa

GET MY ROCKS OFF TO 😭😭

"I'm off the grid that's why I only have an iPod"

God... Wanda Childa

rubby46@sol.com

"Do you want me to get you a phone?"

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE"

"I want to do relationships with Riz."

Medal of Wit

LITTLE METAL BRIEFCASE

You absolutely sweetie

29 performance 🔥🔥

GARTY O'BRIEN MENTION 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Naked Kristen. Again.

Oh god Fabian is at 4 at his second roll

"Breaker Breaker, this is Fabian Seacaster, looking for his papa, Bill Seacaster, somewhere out there in the nine hells............"

This is so heartbreaking... Fabian...

Oh Fabian...

His papa.....

He probably feels so lonely

Rage token.....

This rage token is making me take a stress token

Everyone single one has been bad

FABIAN TAKING THE BARDIC FROM FIG

Constitution saving throw???

oh no

oh no

oh no

"I shit myself"

I CAN'T BRWATHE

"I've only been eating leftovers"

UNNAMED BARD STUDENT NO

QUINCY NO

DID QUINCY TAKE A RAGE TOKEN?

THAT'S IT????

oh my god