#so i had to sew in three different places

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Today I woke up at a reasonable time, ate breakfast, showered, washed my face, walked to the coffee shop, came home and finished four things, three of which were on my computer and one of which was fixing some pants. All within like three hours. Look at me. I'm neurotypical now.

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[impishjesters]

Rambley x Homeless!Reader (SFW)

relationship: can be read platonically or romantically notes: the reader has no gender or pronouns used. Rambley might comes off sounding a little protective/yandere, it's entirely up to you if he's just being protective or a yandere. A/N: There's not much to work with for Rambley content but I had this little idea and it's been eating away at me so I tried to write a bit of it. I might work on the main story itself just for myself for shits and giggles.

Rambley always hates it when you leave the park. He knows you don’t have a choice, the park no longer has food and anything that had been left behind has long since molded. So he knows there’s nothing he can do about it, you’re only human after all.

It’s been forty minutes since you left, forty long minutes since Rambley saw you off at the furthest screen he could reach by the entrance. He prattled on about strangers, avoiding sketchy-looking areas, the whole spiel as if you hadn’t been surviving on your own all these years before finally taking up a home in the abandoned Indigo Park.

A whole hour and a half passed before Rambley picked up movement at the entrance, quickly flicking to life on the screen, face mushed against the screen. He saw you carrying an armful of plastic shopping bags—and most importantly you looked unharmed.

You spot Rambley awaiting you on the screen and approach him excitedly, showing the bags of your latest outing. “I scored some good stuff!”Rambley pressed his face further into the screen, his face a mix of worry and relief all in one. “You’ve been gone for one hour and thirty-two minutes!” He leaned away from the screen but kept his hands on the edges of the screen. If he could shake the monitor you know he would. “I’ve been worried sick! What if something happened to you? I-I can’t help you if that happens!”

Although it’s not uncommon for Rambley to have a little freak out every time you leave Indigo Park, this was a little more than his usual freakout. A brief look of worry washes over you as you step away and further into the park, missing Rambley’s expression as he frantically follows to a different screen as you head straight for one of the screens more at your height in the shop.

“Hey, Rambley it’s okay! I’m okay.” You set the bags on the ground and give him a little spin around, showing you were completely unharmed. “I’m sorry for taking longer than my usual hour.”

Rambley’s eyes flick around the screen as he examines you, his ears pressed flat before he determines you don’t look more messy than normal. “Okay…” His mood completely shifts, ears perk, and eyes curious. “So whatcha get?!” Surely you got good stuff if it took an extra thirty-two minutes and forty-three seconds to get.”

Turning away from him you roll your eyes and lift the bags up, setting them on the nearby counter. “The first aid kits here still have bandages but any ointments are expired, so I managed to get some antibacterial ointment and a little bottle of iodine.”

The raccoon oo’s and ah’s each item you pull out, chin resting on his little paws with fascination and curiosity.

“The lady was also really nice and gave me a discount for the toiletries.” You placed down two bottles, one of shampoo and another of conditioner, as well as two cheaply wrapped bars of soap. It’d probably feel like shit on your skin but the scent was okay and it beat staying covered in filth all the time.

Beggers can’t be choosers after all.

His nose twitched slightly when he saw the soap bars, he couldn’t smell it but he just had an inkling those little bars held a cheap perfume smell to them. Stinky.

You show him a cheap little sewing kit with some thread to fix up your old clothes, a bottle of pain meds and two cheap washcloths. Rambley eyes another bag behind you that seemed far more full than this bag had been.

“What about that bag?” He pokes the screen and you look at the bag he’s pointing at before abandoning the items in your hand with excitement.

“Ah!” The bag rips slightly as you pull it across the countertop and open it up. “The lady also gave me a really good deal for these cans, they’re all dented but otherwise completely fine.”

You hold one of the dented cans up for him to see and his face scrunched up. “Is that safe to eat still? It’s not damaged?”

“It’s not opened and that’s all I care about.” You shrug your shoulder and start taking the cans out of the bag, rattling off the various canned goodies.

Rambley’s face shifts through each food you list off, some with curiosity and some with disgust. Thank god he can’t eat, some of those sound awful! When you’re finished showing him the cans he exhales and watches you from his usual position on screen.

“Well, I’m glad you got a lucky haul!” He shrinks a little on-screen and fidgets with his hands. “So… this means you won’t have to leave the park for a few days at least, yeah?”

After you finish checking over that you weren’t missing anything you hum in thought. “I should be good for a little bit yeah, I still have the rest of my stuff.” You glance over at the pile of things Rambley kept safe for you when you were gone, making sure it was still there.

Of course, it was, nobody but you had been dumb enough to break into the park and wander around. In hindsight you’re very grateful that you did, it led you to Rambley, which led to having a consistent place to sleep, a home.

“Oh goodie!” Rambley danced on the screen before flicking to one of the much larger screens. “How about you put that all away and tell me about all the things you saw? Don’t leave any details out!”You tuck your new belongings with your old ones and make yourself comfortable at the counter, not sparing a detail as you recount your trip into the city.

[mystiffox]

— the apple's falling from the tree

from Cross: The Star Sans by @overflowofcrows

star!cross makes me incredibly ill with the tragic found family vibes ... (lays on the floor)

also have some doodles too (slight spoilers on the fic's lore below! to explain some of my thoughts on clothes n stuff)

does Cross have a star necklace in the fic? no, probably not. did i show off about my thoughts on a star necklace to Simple anyway? yes, yes i did. anyway idc where u think the necklace is from (whether its a gift from dream or a remold of his broken heart necklace, who knows atp) now ONTO THE GANG (+ Error and Fresh)

to preface this: im mostly assuming for most of the lore beyond the crumbs given to me. so, i'd imagine that when the fight ended with the gang losing, Dream and Ink immediately jailed them up. they both seem keen on keeping the gang alive, so they probably would've tried to help them with anything to make sure of it- that is, if any of the gang would even accept it in the first place.

i'm making a small guess that if there were any wounds, they used what they had to take care of it, aka ripping out parts of their own clothing to use as makeshift bandages. dream might've gave them some supplies (out of pity.. or something) but whether that was not enough or not used, i won't know

even if it was enough, there's still the factor of inevitable outburst/breakdowns from any of the prisoners. i'd imagine it'd be so hard to calm any of them down because the gang were too used to being close together that using touch became the usual grounding method— so putting a barrier between them makes it infintely harder for everyone.

i think Nightmare doesn't use his jacket anymore. it probably feels like shit/too itchy and ragged to wear and reminds him of a past he wishes he could forget. (he must feel so helpless seeing all his boys suffer after taking care of them for so long... like a lost father trying his best and seeing how much he's failing at the same time.. man.)

Dust is almost always wrapped in a blanket, the hoodie completely zipped up as if he was trying to hide in it, keeping himself as small as possible (knowing his own breakdowns are the biggest And loudest)

Horror is probably yanked back to the memories of when he was back in his home au, quietly starving and losing all the progress he had with the gang.. trying to press himself against the barriers in hopes that maybe he can feel the others on the other side of it.. (one of his outbursts would be why he ripped off the sleeves of his jacket id assume)

Killer too.. unable to get to anyone and just. with his soul going haywire sometimes, having no available output that he's forced to ride it out on his own And in front of everyone.. yeah, you get the gist for those three

Error's a mess of threads- picks at his clothes and sews em back up, just to have a reason to move his hands. he's not too worried i'd say- it's a little reminiscent of the antivoid, and he's experienced insanity already (not to say it doesn't tug at his own soul-strings to see it happen to everyone else)

Fresh might be the "cleanest" out of everyone, with barely any visible tears, but i have a good feeling his body language is different. maybe the cap is now worn correctly. maybe he took off his jacket. he's tense. his guard is up. because a parasite would never want to be locked up in one place, right?

god.

God.

they make me so sick (message is mine btw)

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

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[dancingtotuyo]

14. in the cold light i live to love and adore you

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt and comfort, TLOU SPOILERS

Notes: To my beautiful beta readers @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @janaispunk, I adore you both with my whole, entire heart!

Words: 3931

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

The winter winds blow in with gusto, granting one of the coldest you’ve seen in Jackson yet. The ground freezes in October and it stays that way into the next year. Reports say you lose more patrolmen to cold than infected even with the uptick in sightings. The brutal winter is relentless, keeping its freezing claws in the world well into the new year. You think if Al Gore is still alive, he’d be happy to see this kind of freeze, but Jackson keeps turning despite it. 

Rachel Perkins organizes a play for the kids. Willa is assigned the part of a butterfly. She has all kinds of ideas for her costume, continuously searching for items to assemble it. Joel shapes some old wire into wings and you manage to wrap them with pink and purple scraps of fabric. 

Someone gifts Willa an old tutu that needs mending in about three different places, but it’s easy work. Except once her ensemble is put together, you have no success convincing her to wear anything but the wings and sparkly pink tutu requiring another two mending jobs. On the third straight day, her wings require readjusting after they got bent out of shape during a game of tag. 

A few people decide there should be a dance, so within a couple of days, the Tipsy Bison is packed with dancing bodies and music and life. Carter finds his friends in a quiet corner. Willa runs, weaving through the crowd in her butterfly costume despite numerous attempts to talk her out of it. 

“At least it makes her easy to spot.” Joel winks at your side, whiskey in his hand. 

“Finding Willa in a crowd has never been an issue.” You laugh, taking the glass from Joel. He smiles as you take a sip before handing it back to him. 

“No, I don’t suppose it has.” Joel laughs.

“There you two are. About time you showed up.” Tommy grins, walking toward you with Maria at his side.

Joel rolls his eyes but it’s all in good fun as he clasps hands with Tommy. 

“I see Willa is practicing for the recital,” Maria laughs, her eyes pinned to her niece. 

“Haven’t been able to get her to wear anything else,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I’ve already mended the damn tutu three times, it’s hanging on for dear life at this point.”

Joel chuckles, arm threading around your waist. “Can’t beat the smile on her face though.”

“I’m handing you the needle and thread next time she comes in with a tear.” You roll your eyes in playfulness. 

“Hey, I’ve fixed those wings several times now too.”

“Sounds like I need to send Elias’s pants over to your place,” Maria says. “I think every single pair needs patching.”

“I remember when Carter was in that phase. I gave up there for a while. Let him run around with holes. He didn’t seem to care.” 

“I’m about to resort to that.”

“Get Tommy to do it. He had to sew me up a couple times. Did a damn good job,” Joel grins. “You know that one scar.” He looks at you. 

You know it. It runs across the side of his torso, the scar so thin and faded, you thought it was from a surgery before the outbreak. You nod. 

“Tommy stitched that one.”

“Damn,” your eyes flicker to him. “I can hardly stitch someone up that nicely.”

“Luck,” Tommy shrugs. 

“Skill,” you correct. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Maria jabs her husband with her index finger. 

“Ow! Have not-“ Tommy says, but Joel is tugging you away from them before you can gather the rest of their argument. His deep chuckle settles in your ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Takin my woman for a spin on the dance floor. What does it look like?” He grins, guiding you into the sea of dancers in the middle of the floor. 

You suppose you should hate it when he calls you his “woman.” There was always something about it in the world before that felt derogatory, like men were trying to claim women as property, reducing them to a single component. It sounds cliche you know, but it’s not like that when Joel says it. 

You don’t have a title on your relationship. For you, to be called his in any capacity is an honor, just as he’s yours. Your partner, your co parent, your lover, all of those and more encompassed into the title “your man” and “his woman”

My Girl plays over the record player bringing a smile to your lips. The first of many songs you and Joel danced to both in the public eye and the quiet of your home.

He smiles down at you, eyes shining in deep, dark pools under the flicker of the lights strung from the rafters. You're drawn back to that first dance, the one you almost skipped out of but your feet carried to anyway. The way he held you. Kissed you, claimed you in front of Jackson without fear of the future even when you couldn’t do the same for him. Yet he stuck with you, waited for you

Moisture gathers in your eyes as you lay your head on his chest as he rocks back and forth. 

“I know, Sweetheart.” 

Your chest tightens with love for him. It’s not scary anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

Willa runs into your legs, demanding a turn with Joel before the song is halfway over. You oblige as Joel picks her up. She laughs, arms tightening around his shoulders. You watch them from the sidelines, wishing you had a camera to capture the identical smiles on their faces, the curls that fall on their foreheads, Willa’s fairy wings, Joel’s broad shoulders. It’s a perfect moment. A slice of heaven on earth you think. 

Willa insists on a second song since they didn’t get a full one the first time. Carter dances a two step with you, his smile beaming the whole time as he masters the steps. Tommy pulls you out at some point- spinning you until you’re so dizzy you need to sit down. He finds it funny. 

The air buzzes with electricity throughout the whole night as you let your kids run around on their own accord in games of tag, sardines, hide and seek, and whatever else their brains concoct. 

It takes some time before Joel tracks you down again, pulling you away mid conversation with Rachel and Lindsey. He’s not the least bit remorseful. 

“You're in high demand tonight. I didn’t have another choice.” He winks at you as the music slows to a soft instrumental. 

“Did I protest?” 

He laughs, placing his lips firmly on yours. “I love you.”

You can’t help the smile that appears every time he says it. You settle against him, letting the soft music settle over your bones. “I love you too.”

You don’t speak for another minute, too wrapped up in him, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beating in time with yours. 

You catch Ellie and Dina on the dance floor together. There’s an extra reach in your smile. They’re out of your sight when Dina kisses Ellie. Then, Joel’s muscles tighten around you. 

Your brow furrows as your head lifts. “What is it?” 

Joel doesn’t respond, eyes locked straight ahead. You know that look and follow it straight to Ellie and Dina and Seth. Your stomach drops

Dina says something, a smile on her face before it fades and she walks away, Ellie’s hand in hers. 

“Remember next time there’s kids around,” Seth calls after them.

Joel tugs you behind him. You catch the vein in his neck popping out. He's ready to pounce, to protect Ellie at the first sight of danger. 

“Yeah cause you’re setting such a great example,” Dina retorts as she heads for the door. 

“Just what this town needs, another loud mouth dyke!” 

It cuts through the room like a knife, drawing others’ attention. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ellie spins on her heels, heading straight for Seth. Dina fights to hold her back, but it’s useless. 

“Hey!” Joel surges forward, pushing Seth backward. “Get the hell outta here!”

“Get your hands off of me!” Seth shouts back.

Maria and Tommy rush toward the commotion as Maria steps between the two men.

There’s a soft thud and the firm pressure of two small hands against the back of your thighs. You twist around, finding a mop of dark hair and eyes to match staring wide eyed at the scene unfolding before you. You run your hand over Willa’s head, encouraging her to keep behind you as Maria and Tommy usher Seth out of the Tipsy Bison. 

Then your eyes follow Joel. He’s not coming back toward you, but toward Ellie. You barely manage to keep the cringe at bay. Not here, you plead internally. 

“You alright, Kiddo?”  

“What is wrong with you?”

Some people have the decency to turn their heads, to act as if they aren’t listening in. Others just gawk, trying to glean any answers they can from the cold shoulder Ellie has given Joel over the last few years. 

“He had no right-”

“And you do?” Ellie asks, anger shaking her words. “I don’t need your fucking help, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes cut from hers, finding yours in the small crowd. You see the way it stings in his eyes, and then he looks away from you both as he slowly eases backward.

 “Right…” He says, so quiet you barely make it out as Joel turns away, walking out of the building on display for everyone to see. The door slams shut behind him, ushering in a cool gust of wind. 

Pairs of eyes flash to Ellie. Some find you. There are a few mumbles exchanged between people, but they quickly die down as the music turns up and people return to their own lives. Your eyes find Ellie’s as people begin to fill in the dance floor once more. She seems more vulnerable now, more like the young teen you remember. The one who put on a big front, but wore her emotions so clearly on her face. 

“Mommy?” Willa tugs at your shirt. “Why were Ellie and Daddy yelling at each other?”

You snap around, picking her up, the fairy wings she wears making it more difficult. “People fight sometimes.”

She seems to contemplate the words, her forehead crinkling with consternation, like she’s trying to remember all the fights she’s ever witnessed. It tips your lips upward. She looks so much like Joel when she does that. Sarah used to make a similar face. 

“You fight with Carter and Elias sometimes.”

She sighs exasperatedly, pushing her hair out of her face. She’s so much sass and thought wrapped into a tiny package. “Yeah, but they ‘noy me.”

You laugh this time, kissing her head. Ellie and Dina are gone when you look toward where they were. Willa yawns, laying her head on your shoulder. You suppose it’s time to go home anyway. 

You pull Carter away from a game of marbles happening in the corner much to his dismay, but he's all too proud to show you the new green one he won tonight on the way home. 

Joel sits on the front porch, cup of coffee steaming in his owl mug. He still uses the one you got him for his birthday, but try as you might, you can’t make the damn owl disappear. Nonetheless, it’s reassuring to find him in such a natural position after tonight. To find him waiting for you, for his family, to come home. Carter rushes ahead, eager to show off his new possession. Joel listens to him with rapt attention. 

Willa wiggles in your arms, sliding down to the ground and rushing for the front porch, no doubt jealous of the attention her older brother is receiving. Joel pulls her into his lap, eyes never diverting from Carter. It amazes you how easily it comes to him, balancing both of their needs for attention, making them feel so seen and loved at the same time. 

You hang out at the edge of the front porch, back resting against the railing simply observing. Joel glances up at you, offering a brief wink before he’s pulled back in by Carter. He lets it go on for a few minutes before reminding both children that it’s time to get ready for bed. 

A chorus of groans fills your porch. You push back a smile. It’s endearing tonight. It isn’t always. 

“Get it done and we’ll have time for a bedtime story,” Joel says. 

“And a song?” Willa asks. 

“Only if you’re snappy.” 

It’s a bold face lie and you both know it. All Willa has to do is ask, and Joel is humming opening measures, but it works nonetheless. Both kids are racing inside. He eases up, staking over to you. An arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer. His breath is warm across your face in the cold of the winter night. He kisses you, soft but possessive, like he needs to assure himself you’re still here. That you’re not going anywhere. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

He shakes his head. “Later. We got kids to put to bed.”

He presses another kiss to your lips and then you’re both inside, ensconced in the bedtime routine. The four of you settle on the couch, a kid tucked into both of his sides, story book in hand. Reading glasses rest on Joel’s nose. Something you had admittedly teased him about. Old Man, you had called him more than once, but you like them.

Willa falls asleep before the last page. It doesn’t keep Joel from singing her a song when he tucks her into bed. His stripped version of Monday Morning drifts down the hallway HIs voice accompanied by Willa’s. Then he goes to Carter’s room. You catch a few words spoken between them, but can’t make them out. He sings to Carter. It makes you smile as you top off Joel’s coffee mug, the owl one. You hold the routine, the peace near. You doubt Carter has many bedtime serenades left before he decides he’s too old for them.  

When he comes out, Joel tucks his head into your neck. “Sit outside with me?”

“It’s freezing.”

“Please?” He kisses your neck softly. “I’ll keep you warm. Wrap you tight in a blanket. The wind ain’t bad tonight.” He tugs you closer and you sigh, knowing you’ve lost the fight already. 

“Fine, I’ll grab my jacket.”

You sit next to Joel on the porch swing as he plucks at the strings of his guitar, gleaning whatever body heat you can from him. His cup of coffee warms your hands. You turn the owl so it faces outward. The porch light casts a bluish hue over you. He still hasn’t said anything about tonight, hasn’t opened his mouth, but he continues pulling a melody from the instrument on his lap. 

You enjoy the moment for what it is. You take a single sip of his coffee, the substance bitter in your mouth as your eyes drift shut, head resting on Joel’s shoulder. There’s no pressure to say anything. You can just exist with each other in the freezing winter. It’s more than enough.

The guitar rings, but Joel stops playing, body easing forward. “Hey…” He says.

Your eyes open as he sets the guitar aside. Ellie stands at the opposing end of your porch, eyes focused on Joel. You sense their silent exchange, a long pause before either looks away. Ellie gives it another second before moving forward, resting her hands on the bannister. You immediately feel like an intruder. You’re not meant to be here for this. 

You lean over to Joel, kissing his cheek, handing him his mug without another word. You reach out, squeezing Ellie’s shoulder lightly as you pass by. She gives you a tight lipped smile. The front door clicks softly behind you, giving them their privacy,

Joel stands, cautiously joining her as the railing. 

“What’re you drinking?”

He lets out a little huff. “Coffee.”

Ellie watches him as she tries to think of her next words, formulating what she wants to say to him, what’s been building inside of her over the last several years. She’d held on to it for so long, and it’s all led her here. “Where’d you get that?”

“Those people who came through last week.” Another awkward pause. “A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but…” he pulls the mug to his lips. “It’s not bad.” 

Ellie looks out, studying her house across the street. Joel follows suit, allowing her to direct things. Let her take the lead, it rings in his head. Sounds like you even. 

Joel focuses on his coffee mug, The steam that rises and dances up toward the sky until it disappears in thin wisps never to be seen again. The fog of his breathing joins it from time to time, creating a new dance, intertwining with each other only to separate. 

“I had Seth under control.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.” She stands up straighter, looking at Joel as she gains her confidence back.

He nods, keeping his focus on his mug. “Okay.”

Ellie shuffles a bit, trying to decide if she’s going to leave it there or push. She expects more from Joel. She wants more from Joel. 

“Dina… is she your girlfriend?”

Ellie’s mind races. She shifts more thinking through her response. “No.” She shakes her head. Finally, Joel looks her way. Ellie’s eyes are all squinted up. “No, she- that was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything. She just- I don’t know why she did that.”

“But you do like her.”

Ellie takes a deep breath, trying to work through it all in her mind. She feels silly over it all. Looking away, she almost buries her head in her shoulder as tears well in her eyes. “I’m so stupid.”

Joel feels the fatherly instincts kicking in right away, “Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

Ellie can barely get through his words, choking back the tears that form in her eyes. “You’re such an asshole.” It comes out almost like a whisper. 

“I’m not trying-”

“I was supposed to die in that hospital,” Ellie says, hand hitting the railing. “My life would have fucking mattered, but you took that from me!” She looks down at her feet, trying to reign in her emotions.

Joel says nothing, racking his brain for the right words to say. All this time, and they still didn’t exist, but he knows he wants to stop her pain.

Joel eases up, straightening his back. The mug settles atop the banister as he inhales deeply. “If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment…” He thinks through his words, wonders if there's a better way to say it. “I would do it all over again.” He meets her eyes, determination set in his.

Ellie doesn’t move, just lets it sink in. Her face softs almost and then a flash of annoyance, acceptance maybe as he catches tears glistening in her brown eyes. She gives a slight nod, rocking back and forth, trying to figure out if she can actually do this. “Yeah…” The words are a tangle in her head, will and want at war with each other. “I just… I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

Joel eases back against the banister, feeling as if she’s slipping through his grasp again, as if he hadn’t known those words would keep her at bay, floating around his orbit but never in it. 

Ellie contemplates her words. She reconciles her feelings. She misses him too. “But… I would like to try.” Her face twists up as she fights the tears.

Moisture instantly pools in Joel’s eyes, emotions over taking him. He doesn’t like to show this side, he rarely does, but the relief that washes over his body is all consuming. He thought he’d lost her for good, and now here she is telling him she wants to try. She wants to forgive him. That’s enough for him, more than enough, and more than he deserves. 

Ellie lets out a long breath, tension easing from her body, like a weight was lifted, extracted from her. She feels lighter.

“I’d like that,” Joel says, getting caught up on the words. 

They both nod slightly, almost in unison, like they actually share genetics. 

“Okay,” Ellie says, almost like she doesn’t know where to go from here. She rocks back on her heels, catches Joel’s profile in the light. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yep.” 

Joel clears his throat as Ellie turns to leave. 

She’s at the bottom of the steps before he manages to pull it out. It’s not overly affectionate or loud, but it’s warm, solid. “I love you, Kiddo.”

She turns, surprised. There’s a brief uptick in her tightly drawn lips, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “You too, Old Timer.” 

You’re half asleep when Joe crawls into bed next to you. You let out a soft sigh, hand falling to his chest. “How’d it go?” you ask, eyes opening to mere slivers. 

Joel kisses your head. “Said she wants to try to forgive me.”

A sleepy smile finds your face. “Good.”

Joel chuckles, kissing your head. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

You smile. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

You let out a soft sigh, letting sleep take you under. 

Joel lays awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, hand tucked under his head. His body is weary from the night, the dance, is confrontation with Seth and Ellie. He feels the ache of his 63 years in his joints, his back, but nothing covers up the deep seeded contentness that settles over him. 

He turns his head to look at you, fast asleep on your side facing him. You’re not quite tucked into him, arms and legs pressing against him. The exchange of body heat beneath the sheets is enough to stave off the winter chill. His lips tip upward.

He’s happy, undeniably so. Here with you next to his side. With the knowledge that Ellie wants to forgive him. With His two other children sound asleep in their rooms, tucked into beds where they feel safe.  

He pulls his hand from under his head, tracing the soft lines of your face, the bow of your top lip with his fingertips. You bristle softly, like his touch tickles, but you don’t stir. Joel knows you’re out for the night. 

He kisses your cheek, takes your free hand in his and kisses your knuckles before placing it over his beating heart, your hand sandwiched between his chest and palm. He should go to sleep. He has an early patrol with Tommy in the morning, but his mind buzzes with a quiet joy, keeping his eyes wide open. So he lays there, intent on memorizing the sound of your soft breathing, the warmth of your hand on him, and all the other little moments that lead him to this place in time. 

It’s some time before sleep tugs him under, but his eyes flutter shut with you in his periphery, lulled to sleep with the assurance he’s where he’s supposed to be.  

Tag List: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

[notcaycepollard]

Okay so I finished this project recently and I feel the need to brag about it: B A R B I E jacket, inspired by this Balmain x Barbie denim jacket.

I love it. I adore it. Do I have thirteen hundred dollars for a denim jacket? I do not. Do I have gay audacity? You know I do.

I used the Studio Calicot SUSAN pattern, shortening the body and sleeves by an inch for an ultra-cropped length. This pattern is really fantastic - very detailed which can be rare with indie patterns, but straightforward to sew and immensely satisfying to piece together. The flatfell seams are a particularly nice touch.

The main fabric is a silk-nylon twill which is lightweight but very stiff and bouncy, giving it a great structure. The contrast yoke is a limited-edition Riley Blake Barbie print - I was only able to buy half a yard so I had to use it carefully and this shoulder yoke was perfect.

The rhinestones are three different shades to achieve a drop shadow effect, and all hand-placed. Did I go too hard on this? Yeah probably but it's a vibe, so.

Yes, I also made a matching skirt.

[innominaterifter]

The Siberian trial cosplay

I couldn’t resist and did a test photo shoot of Siberian cosplay today. I expected to do a photos in another place, but it turned out to be a closed area. So I had to choose from what was available.

It's funny that I plan to replace literally all the things that are currently in the photo:

1. I like the look of the suit, but it is too small for me, and I will replace it with a larger one since the seams react with a menacing crackle to any careless movement.

And yes, this version of the pattern on the suit is also not the only one I’m considering. I like the look of this one, but I imagine Siberia with other patterns as well. For example, with an asymmetrical pattern or a pattern that does not follow anatomical lines, thus making the image less human.

2. Gloves and socks are purely a test version to see how it all together will look with a suit. This is not noticeable in the photographs, but they were taken very quickly and carelessly: the gloves are medical latex gloves, and the socks are regular white cotton socks painted with acrylic.

I put insoles inside the socks so that it would not be so cold to stand on concrete slabs, but in the future I will think about how best to solve the issue with the appearance of the feet.

I don't like the visible transition and folds between the suit and the socks/gloves. So maybe I'll sew socks and gloves onto the costume, making it one piece.

3. The wig was simply taken from the supplies that I had. This is an unwanted old wig that I dyed some of the strands black. For Siberian, I need a much longer wig (according to the descriptions, she has straight black and white hair down to her tailbone).

4. I didn't do any makeup for this photo shoot, so all the photos are from the back. It was too cold to do makeup outside, and doing it in advance would have been a bad idea since the photoshoot was done at the end of a five-hour walk.

Also, I don’t have a specific makeup concept for this cosplay yet. I'm trying different pattern options, but I have not yet found one that suits me 100%.

5. Lenses.

I didn't wear them for this photo shoot either, but they are really nice. I went through three different options for yellow lenses (not all lenses give the right shade for my eye color), and the one really looks great.

6. I'm debating whether to add small fangs and pointed nails. As far as I remember, Siberian had ordinary human-looking nails, and I don’t remember if she had fangs, most likely ordinary teeth.

[thesecretcornerintheroom]

Don’t forget about me

Pairing: Kid (Dev Patel) x Female reader

Warnings: Tears, blood and injuries, angst and a lot of smut

🔞+

Word count: 1,897

CRASH! That’s the sound u heard that awoke u from your sleep. It was a hot summer night. The only sound in your room was an old fan running at the highest setting and the crickets from outside. You turn to the window, shocked to see your nightstand chaotic with all your belongings knocked over, the window wide open, and you look to the floor to see Kid sitting under the window, panting and holding his side. “did I wake you?” He said through quick breaths. His eye closed from sweat getting in, and his other eye squinting at you. You looked at kid's hand clutching his side, realizing he was bleeding. “Oh my god, what happened?” you said, discarding your thin bed sheets, running over to the window, closing it, and pulling the curtain forward, squatting next to him to meet his eyes on the floor. You grabbed his face, looking for any more bruises out of the ordinary from what he would usually get in a fight. He had a slight cut above his eye and a bruise on his arm, but the worst was the cut on his side. At least you prayed it was just a cut. You quickly put your arm under him to lift him “quickly to the bathroom.” as he rose, he grunted.

“I’m assuming you did more than just fight tonight,” you said, focusing more on the needle penetrating his skin with the thread to close the open gage on his side. Cause him to grunt in pain and take a breath. Kid was leaning on the sink now with his shirt removed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips with his damp hair covering his face, peering down at you. Your curls were pulled back, and all you had on was an oversized t-shirt. “I think I’m getting closer to finding him,” he said, his voice deep but calm. You finished sewing him up. “You're not even close to him yet, and you're already hurt. This can only end worse,” you said, looking him in the eye. You knew his situation, you knew who he was talking about, and you hated that his heart was this unsettled, but you couldn’t blame him. “Take a shower. It’s too late at night for you to go home, and seeing how you came through my window and not the front door, I’m assuming you're not safe,” you said, looking him in the eye and his deep brown eyes they held so much emotion and thoughts you knew he was exhausted.

You were in your bed, the hot air sticking to you. You recounted how you got here and met the Kid. You were conducting a research study on poverty and culture. The affects it has on different marginalized countries. That’s how you ended up in India. You meet Kid because you were snooping in places you weren’t supposed to be. You asked questions to some dangerous men. Kid who was secretly stalking you because he watched everyone in the community, he came in and saved you. Ever since he’s been in contact with you (it’s been three months, and you have one more month left), you felt the bed dip beside you.

Taking your eyes off the beige wall of peeling paint, you turned to see a kid in bed lying on his back, his hair wet from the shower. He didn’t have a shirt, a patch adorned his stitches, and he wore a pair of shorts you washed the last time he came over from one of his excursions . His eyes were glossy and heavy and slowly turned to you. “I have to do this. He didn’t even know her name.” His voice was heavy. You turned to place your hands on his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as the tears fell from his face.” “You’re gonna let this consume you, and I’m afraid of how this will end,” I whispered. He looked at you, his eyes saying everything. If I asked him not to hunt down the man who changed his life for the worse, he would have felt torn. I knew the idea of not getting revenge was too strong over choosing me. I let out a deep sigh, holding back my tears. “This will be our last night like this,” you said, your voice dry. You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. Kid's eyes became heavy, his body rigid. He softly shook his head. No, he knew what you meant by it being our last night. You leaned over, slowly adjusting to the thick air. Your nose met his nose as we kissed. A deep sigh was released from him. He drew the kiss as he rose from the bed, placing his hand on your thigh, gripping your thigh. You let out a gasp. You could feel the textures of his scared palms on your skin and how rough and warm they felt on your skin, taking mental notes of how that felt cause you knew you wouldn’t be feeling this forever.

I kissed him harder before pulling away. “you gotta be careful; you still hurt.” Before I could even regain my breath, he was kissing me again roughly, causing me to whimper. He kissed me as though he knew the moment couldn’t last forever. I felt like I saw stars from how great the kiss felt. “ lay down,” you said softly. Kid looked at you. He lay back down on his back, Kid, usually quiet, but you could tell he was lost for words. You rose off of the bed a little bit to remove your panties as you sling your legs over his waist. You sat on top of his lap, and you felt his hands slowly move from the side of your thighs to grabbing your waist.

You slowly started to move on his lap, your core rubbing up against his clothed member, causing him to moan.” Shit,” he said, his voice dry. You're where grinding on him at a steady pace, trying not to to hurt him. You could feel his member growing hard with his shorts and you becoming wetter. You grabbed his chin to have him look him in your eyes as you leaning over him so you lips caressed his. His mouth opened softly, panting from the feeling you were stirring up within him. You started to move your hips faster. “ promise me you’ll be safe. You said, your lips touching his as he let out soft moans. “Okay, yes, okay,” he said, moaning, looking me in my eyes. “ when this is done, you come to me, okay? You know where I’ll be,” you said, looking deep into his eyes, knowing he understood exactly what you meant.” he nodded yes, breathing deeply. He grabbed you and flipped you on your back now on the mattress. His eyes darkened, and his body glistened with sweat. “okay,” he said before he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and removed it from you. He disregarded his pants. He lowered his head to her neck. His teeth lightly grazed your skin before he nipped at your spot, causing you to moan. As he teased the spot on your neck, moans slipped from your mouth. He started to work his way slowly down his body, leaving bites and kisses on the way down your body, leaving you to shiver as his warm

Lips touched your body you felt the breeze from the fan was in your room take away his warm kisses. Before you knew it, the kid had your legs open, and his hands wrapped around your leg. You gasped moan as you felt him drag his teeth down your inner thigh, kissing and licking your inner thigh. The sting causes you to gasp in surprise from pain, followed by pleasure. You realized he was leaving a hickie on your inner thigh. Uuuh, you said, putting your fingers in his hair near the nape of his neck. “Don’t you forget about me,” he said in a deep voice. Before you could respond, he was blowing on your clit before he went in for a kiss on your clit, causing your body to rise off the bed. You felt his tounge circle your clit back and forth back and forth at a fast pace.was he? Was he making out with your clit? “Please, please, you cried out as he started to suck on your clit. You could feel yourself becoming wet, pooling around his mouth and dripping down your legs. You started to move your hip, subconsciously gripping the sheets. You were panting. No words were coming out. The only sound to be heard was a Kid grunting and your panting, and the sound of the silver fan running in the room. You could feel your breath begin to form in your stomach. “dont stop,” you said, loving this feeling of a tear forming in your eye. “Please, you croaked.”’you could feel Kid doing everything, licking, kissing, penetrating you with his tongue. You were unraveling so fast. The feeling finally hit you, causing you to moan. You felt the release, and your head was dizzy. The air was thick—you were trying to gain your breath. Kid moved back up to your face and kissed your nose. “I’ll find you again, I promise he said, looking into your tear-stained eyes. He entered you without a second thought, looking you in your eyes cause tear-stained eyes were now blurred, and you rolled them at the feeling of him interning you. He grabbed your one leg and brought it to his hip. His hip was now controlling the pace going in you at a steady pace; you were kissing your mind. “Come for me again, okay he said,” as his pace became more demanding. My moan became louder, his eyes not leaving my mind as his face fell into

My face. I love you, Kid said, his brown eyes holding so many emotions. Promise me you’ll still want me, he said as he went faster. The feeling of his warmth inside of me made me bite my lip and moan, his hips moving at a faster pace. He wrapped my leg in his

Waist as his finger played with my clit he started to Let out a slow moan, “Say it,” causing me to gasp, clasping onto his arm. “I love you I said, strained, focusing on this feeling. My body had this sensation that I knew wouldn’t last forever, but I wish it could last a lifetime. As he’s playing with my clit and his hips are moving, I can feel his movements becoming erratic. He let out low grunts. “Shit,” I said, that feeling turning in my stomach agin my legs started to shake “im finna cum” I said, and he grunted in agreement. The feeling was powerful. The air was thick, and our moans were in sync. We both were coming at the same time. I wrapped my leg around kid and brought him

Closer to me, he came within me. I felt the warmth of him within me. He was panting, eyes big, looking at what we had just done. He removed his still-swollen member from me

Seeing both of our juices together inside

I am now pooling on the bed. “Now I have to

Come back to you,” he said, sitting on the bed and looking me in the eyes.

[bcofl0ve]

i don't particularly like to get political on here but man is terribly horrifically hard to be a school shooting survivor in this country. i found out about the new one because i logged into facebook and my feed was

someone i went to high school with posting about it

a survivor i know from a different community posting about it

a parent of a dead child i met through politics posting about it

someone in a support group saying not to watch the news

repeat. repeat. change the order. repeat.

i'm too wired to sleep because i don't know the kids that were in that building today but yet i do because i am them, because a part of me will always be 17 years old in my algebra three class hoping god would really forgive me if it came down to it. i just texted a friend from another survivors community that i haven't talked to years because he tweeted something that worried me. i've gotten a handful of those check in texts today myself. i hate flying because i'm terrified of plane crashes and don't feel the least bit comforted by statistics. i hate intercom systems and police sirens and going from a women's undergrad college to a co-ed law school was hard because i became very aware that the chance of it happening again ticked up. the shooting at my high school was my english teacher's second. i spent a week in dc after the uvalde shooting and all i could think as i looked at my friends is that the only thing that had changed in four years was that we all looked older. i had to leave the political sphere because i sat in meetings- with republican staffers and well-intentioned democrats alike- and just wanted to scream. nonprofits forced "gun reform not gun control" down our throats but it rotted on my tongue and i wish you could say repeal the 2nd in polite company but you can't. good survivors tow the non-profit respectability line. good survivors don't get blocked by shannon watts from moms demand action for years and only unblocked after being part of a direct action that made international headlines. good survivors aren't in the facebook support group for survivors that moms demand and everytown hung out to dry.

to live in this country as a school shooting survivor is to take every breath through a gaping open wound in your chest.

cut that always bleeds i wish i knew how to sew you up right. i wish the stiches didn't always pop. i wish this place was different and that america didn't leave a generation of children behind to just live with their neatly tied in a red, white and blue ribbon trauma or die trying. fuck it all. i'm so fucking tired.

[sayornispress]

My most recent project, and most intensive project in a long time!! Halo Effect and Soldier's Heart by @alex51324. Five books in all, totaling over 1700 pages. Details, story spoilers, and more photos under the cut - there are quite a few!

In WWI, English soldiers wrapped their pants and boots with "puttees", and the spines mimic that look. Rather than actually wrapping, or cutting the spine cloth into pieces (which I worried would fray over time, especially with the opening and closing of reading), I pleated it and sewed it to the cover cloth (which is light canvas-y green but otherwise rather plain, so I'm not including photos here). The titling is flat gold heat transfer vinyl.

The bookmark charms relate to the story, of course.

Halo Effect - I felt that Thomas was defined by his status as a footman and this sets up his massive character change throughout the series, so the first bookmark charm is a footman's button, though not a Downton-specific one.

Soldier's Heart, vol. I - This fountain pen nib is from the early twentieth century. I found in the first volume that Thomas's social network, and communication both to and from define this part of the work.

Soldier's Heart, vol. II - My dad collects WWI memorabilia, including bullets (it's in this volume that Thomas is shot). He cut a bullet down for me to use for this binding. This particular bullet is English, rather than from any of the opposing nations, since he doesn't collect those (and I was rather lucky he had even an English one) but tbh I don't have the slightest idea what the difference is.

Soldier's Heart, vol. III - Y'all this is a genuine RAMC WWI coat button. I couldn't not use it. Wholly unmodified, to be clear, so if the book ever needs rebound or anything changes, it can be removed and reused as necessary. I chose this volume for the button because I felt Thomas really come into his own as a member of the RAMC, away from the war - and because I wanted to use the bullet for the last one, and this is the only volume this button would fit on, other than the last, but that's a whole other deal.

Soldier's Heart, vol. IV - Thomas, whose father was a clockmaker, becomes a chauffeur at the end of Soldier's Heart. My first idea was to use some sort of gear that resembled a car part as a charm. I come from a long line of magpies/dragons/Gollum-like creatures, and my grandfather had, in his garage, an alarm clock that belonged to my great-great-grandfather, gathering dust, because my grandpa had been meaning to fix it and just hadn't gotten around to it yet (he'd been saying this since the mid-seventies, at least - my aunt wanted to use it, since it would have matched her quilt). Anyway, we all gathered around the dinner table to take this clock apart, which turned out to be a rather violent act involving pliers, several screwdrivers, an orbital sander, a drill press, and a hammer. I got a few gears out of the deal, and my cousin (a mechanic) selected the one that looked the most like a car part, scaled down. So. Double connection.

It's a bit difficult to tell in the photo, but the speckled edges each have two different colors, and there's, again, a reason for each choice! Each color represents something specific:

Blue - clear skies/relative calm Green - naivety/he's got things to learn Brown - the muck of war Red - blood (Thomas's and others')

Halo Effect: Green and blue Soldier's Heart, vol. I - green and brown Soldier's Heart, vol. II - brown and red Soldier's Heart, vol. III - green and red Soldier's Heart, vol. IV - red and blue

The speckling is also more intense in the middle three books.

My signature throw, as well as a close-up of the hand-sewn endbands (each volume's endbands match the speckled edges of that particular book) and a bit better look at the RAMC button, though a bit blurry.

And next to it, my metadata page and the gratitude from Halo Effect. I'm very much enjoying this metadata layout, and here's as good a place as any to give some general typesetting info:

I used IM Fell Great Primer for the body text, 11pt, 15pt leading.

Next up, the details in the letters--each character has their own handwriting, and a few are showcased here:

Syl drew a face in the margins of one of the letters with Theo, and I mimicked it for the binding. (Yes I was in fact crying as I did it)

Don't be afraid to ask if you'd like to know the names of any of the fonts - all from Google Fonts, since I do my typesetting in GDocs. I love the first one, in particular (Joey's) because I so rarely use it. I'm very happy with how they all turned out, they feel like they match the personalities well, in my opinion, though I should have made a couple a touch bigger.

---

I think that's all of my photos! I'm so so proud of how this binding turned out. It had quite a long turn-around - it's not unusual for me to have less than two weeks between reading a fic for the first time and having a bound copy on my shelf, and I read this fic for the first time over the course of nine days all the way back in March. (Which. okay. Not that long actually.)

I had a really lovely time with the binding, as well, because I got so much input from my family and friends - my dad was integral in the whole process, not only in the donation of the bullet, but also in the design of the covers in general and in answering my WWI questions, and my mom helped me pick colors for the endbands and edges. My grandpa donated a clock, and my boss helped me figure out how to get the charms attached to the ribbons, and her sister helped me with sewing, so all in all this whole experience has been so wonderful, so special. I'm so grateful for it.

[vhygoxo]

Wolf Pack Headcanons

My personal head canons on the shifters and what they get up to 🫶 I’ve been missing seeing wolf pack content. Plus there isn’t much info or anything on the Wolfpack outside of Jacob. Most of these come from the fact I know what it’s like to live on a rez. Debating if I should do nsfw head canons next 🤭

There’s hardly any down time for the shifters. Since the Cullens came into town there had been almost constant activity in the area. After the birth of Renesmee everyone thought it’d calm down. But instead activity got more frequent. Patrols and executions were part of their routine after a few years

When Vampire activity is low they still protect the rez in their own way. Most of the guys took first aid and security classes. Since chief and council know about the secret of the shifters they pay all of them (except the younger ones aka minors) through their security program. So when there are hardly any vampires they work in the security program

Everyone helps Emily with the household such as cleaning and cooking when they can. But most just help pay for the groceries since she feeds all of them

The rez has a mixed view of the shifters. To everyone they’re all secretive and intimidating. But because of how many people they’ve helped over the years they’ve also earned a lot of respect. Some believe they are arrogant and entitled to the rez. Others believe them to be protectors of the rez in a way. Sometimes people have issues with them to the point of harassing them. Sam, Paul, and Jared are usually the main targets. Like Bella thinking they are a gang ☠️

These guys all have trucks and drive everywhere+anywhere. Kim is the only one to own a car. They have many different chill spots around the rez (not just them but everyone in La push goes to these places) usually to drink and have bonfires

When they aren’t driving on the Rez they’re heading into town for some fun. Shopping sprees, eating out, and gambling is usually what’s on the agenda for these guys. Although they drive a lot locally it’s because they can’t travel too far

Everyone especially Paul dreams of the day they no longer have to shift. Once they stop they have all the freedom to travel and explore

The guys love to go mudding in their trucks and have contests

Emily has a projector and hosts movie nights in the backyard when it’s nice out

Emily and Kim craft and bead together. Emily does more sewing than beading, she’s made all the guys ribbon shirts, from youngest to eldest. Also enjoys making ribbon skirts occasionally especially Appliqué ribbon skirts. Kim loves to make beaded earrings and necklaces. These two give away more than they sell

Kim is always wearing big ndn girl™️ earrings. Beaded, quilled, dentillium, shells, you name it. (Once she wanted to make some out of Jared’s wolf fur but he refused. She found a way)

All of them are hella competitive with each other. And since they’re basically non human their strength and abilities are crazy. They all enjoyed testing their strength, think Bella and Emmett arm wrestling, same energy with these guys. Both in human and wolf form they strived to show off. The imprintees of them all had to take some time to get used to seeing such things. Like two mega beasts fighting on the front lawn, switching back to human, and playing it off like nothing

Paul, Leah, and Embry are the ones who struggle the most with being a shifter. In the beginning their rage and frustration was almost uncontrollable. Even as the years passed they still had moments where they burst out of control. (Once they imprinted the out bursts stopped completely) So these three became close since they were similar especially in their struggles

High energy for all of them. They have to find ways to burn off energy or else they legit couldn’t sleep. Which the solution is always intense exercise. Most times you’ll find Paul and Jared are competing to see who can do more push ups. Or the younger wolves doing relay races on their usual trails. Embry, Quil, and Jacob liked to box and spar with each other only. Leah and Paul get way too aggressive when sparring with everyone. It’s usually just Leah vs Paul if they really need to get rid of their aggression. Sam and Jared spar together since they actually follow the rules lol

Emily and Leah are still close and Leah never dated Sam lol

It wasn’t Sam that scarred Emily it was a rogue vampire. Sam punishes his self since he wasn’t fast enough to protect her. But he was quick enough along with Paul to stop the vampire before he could change her. It’s why Leah distrusts Sam. She believes he can’t protect her sister/cousin well enough and punishes him daily in their hive mind. Also constantly questions him as a leader

Quil and Kim are cousins lol I imagine them being close like brother and sister growing up. So it works well for them to be in the wolf pack together

For the shifters it’s hard for them to drink any alcohol. Not that they don’t it’s just that their body burns the alcohol quicker than normal humans. Smoking 🍃 actually has an effect on them like normal

Majority of them rarely drink, it started from Sam believing he needed to be in a clear mind, in order to be a leader. Not only that but being a shifter meant being very spiritually connected. And in most native cultures it’s believed that alcohol dulls the spirit. (Doesn’t stop some of them lol)

Quil, Embry, and Jacob were the first to start smoking 🍃 and out of the whole pack Quil is the biggest stoner. Claims it’s what “keeps him chill” since he doesn’t have a hard time shifting

They hunt game while they’re in wolf form. Natives love wild meat, deer, elk, moose, you name it. So them being able to shift makes it way easier to catch game. The guys gut and skin whatever they catch. Emily and Kim are usually the two who process the game. (Tbh it’s mostly Paul, Leah, and Sam bringing back game home because they raged out)

Everybody is in someway jealous of Jared and Kim. Since Jared had an easy time with shifting even in the beginning. And when he imprinted on Kim their relationship had always been easy and full of love even now

Jacob and Quil are the mechanics of the group. All the guys know some basic skills but these two are the best at it. Anytime anyone has issues it’s them who take care of it

It was actually Seth who took on his mom’s role and was training to become an emergency service provider. Eventually he wants a job in medicine. Leah knows basic cpr and first aid like the rest of the guys

All their minds are linked, when they shift they get a download, of what everyone was doing while not in wolf form. Nothing is secret or sacred lol they all know everything about each other. In their human form they’re still connected of course. But they have to get consent to connect telepathically in human form. In wolf form they have no control and everything is shared in the mind in an instant

Tbh around others especially in crowded places they gained their rep of being stoic and silent bc of this. Even in human form they talk more with each other in their heads than with their voice. Usually if they’re in a group but silent they’re talking in their heads to each other. They all have their own ways of blocking out certain things the others go through

The pack tolerates renesmee but pretty much just Emily and Kim visit her, out of pity and empathy, Jacob understood this well. Instead of making his brothers uncomfortable he’s usually with the Cullens. Occasionally he’ll come by his self but not for long. Sometimes he brings her but it’s usually short visits

Quil Atera III (quil’s grandfather) Billy Black, Harry Clearwater, and Sue Clearwater are one of very few people who know history of the shifters. Majority of what everyone knows about shifters is because of the knowledge they possess. The pack rely on these 3 the most

I felt this was enough head canons for now even tho I have way more lol. Hoping to upload one of my fics rewritten soon here. But I’m having fun with these wolf pack head canons for now. If you enjoy this and my writing feel free to send me an ask! I’m open for requests ✨

[forgave-me-not]

I DON'T THINK I LIKE YOU ANYMORE ☆ B.S.

Ben would sew you into the fabric of all of his clothes if he could. But alas, he cannot, so kissing you is the next best thing. Now he just has to figure out how to do it. word count: 3.2k warnings: fluff, like two curse words, a bit suggestive at the end

There's flying - with its long lines, endless bag checks, whining children - and then there's waiting on a flight. Today, you've been placed in the latter category, patiently waiting for your best friend to come home. How long had it been since you'd seen him? Two, three months? It didn't matter. What you did know is that his presence was sorely missed.

You and Ben had managed to do almost everything together - from growing up to playing sports and attending the same college. But that was before the world was big, before things were different. He had his own thing now, something you could only observe from afar. And as much as you loved that he'd found success in his niche, you were glad he was taking a break and finally coming home.

You'd paced the waiting area near the terminal for nearly 45 minutes. I look antsy as hell, you thought as you glanced at your watch again. You weren't nervous. That's impossible. It was just Ben. You simply hadn't seen him in a while. It wasn't anxiety; you had a lot of pent-up enthusiasm that needed to be let out in one way or another. Still, you looked wound up. You sit down and look around at the people around you. A mother feeds her toddler some animal crackers. Hmm, maybe she's waiting on her part-. Before you can finish your thought, you see that familiar form striding its way over to you, and you're back on your feet in a flash.

He's wearing a baseball cap, typical Ben, but you can see his face perfectly fine. Eyes just as bright, smile just as toothy. He's been just fine.

You walk around the young man, looking for any discrepancies.

"Why are you appraising me like some prize-winning bull," Ben said, slightly amused at you circling him in close inspection.

"I've gotta make sure you're all here," you declare, looking up at him. "Did you get taller?"

"I dunno. Let's get outta here, you little scumbag," Ben says with a laugh.

"Anything in baggage claim," you ask in an attempt to check off all the boxes he could miss.

"Nope."

"Alright then," you say with a smile. Ben wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls his carry-on with the other as you lead him toward your car. You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He smells familiar with his sandalwood cologne and shea butter lotion. Oh, how you missed that smell.

The two of you make it to your car, an older model SUV your dad had handed down to you once you'd turned sixteen. There were a lot of memories in that car, some you and Ben swore to never speak about again. The sound of the trunk slamming snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Geez, Benjamin. Always so rough," you remark with an eye roll.

"My bad, my bad," Ben says defensively, putting his hands up to show he's genuinely sorry. You shake your head and lean against the driver's side door.

"The sky looks beautiful," Ben says quietly, leaning beside you. He was right. The red, orange, and pink shades made the surrounding area look otherworldly; not even the sounds of planes taking off and the nearby highway could detract from it. Ben tore his eyes away from the sky and glanced over at you. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Pretty," he whispered, not meaning to say it aloud. "Hmm? What'd you say," you said, taking your eyes off the drifting clouds. Ben froze, feeling his face get hot. "Um, nothing. The sky's pretty, that's all."

"Oh...alright. Well, B, the sky is wonderful, but I've gotta get you home." You turn to open your car door, but a firm hand reaches over and closes it. "I don't want to," Ben whines. Sometimes, you're shocked he's actually twenty-one years old. You cock an eyebrow at the hand on your car door. Ben quickly removes his hand and clears his throat.

"We haven't seen each other in a while, and besides, I have like two weeks to be home. Let's do something." His arms are crossed, Ben's signal that no will not be an answer that comes out of your mouth.

"You sure? Not too tired from your flight," you say with furrowed eyebrows.

"Nuh uh. Besides, I need a burger."

"Ugh," you groan. "I oughta make you drive." Ben lets out a laugh and spins you around in excitement. He quickly trots to the car's passenger side, opens the door, and plants himself in the seat, adjusting it for his long legs. You laugh. Like a child. "You're a punk, you know that, Shelton," you say accusingly as you start your car and back out of the parking spot.

The two of you sat in one of those authentic American diners. There was a coffee pot on every table, paintings of the food they served on the windows, and floors that were a bit slick from the kitchen grease. Ben had smashed his burger in five minutes flat; he'd said something about missing seed oils and red dye. You'd snorted and told him he better appreciate it since you were paying.

The waitress came over with the chocolate milkshake you had ordered. You thanked her and stirred the drink. Ben was attempting to build a pyramid out of toothpicks. You smile at him.

"So, how's the tour going," you ask, sipping your drink.

Ben leans forward against an elbow and begins to trace the squares of the checkered pattern on the table. "Good. You win some, you lose some, but it's fun." He picks at the fries he didn't eat and flicks the salt off his fingers. "But we always talk about me. What's up with you?"

A grin spreads across your face. "Well, there's this guy," you start. Ben's nostrils flare. He sees a flash of confusion on your face and tones down his obvious displeasure. You let out a slight cough and continue. "He's in my World Philosophies course this semester, and uh, he's pretty cool." You say the last bit quietly, sensing that Ben is judging everything you say and do. Honestly, you only brought it up because it was the first thing to come to mind. You didn't want to discuss the guy anyway, so you changed the subject.

"I kept the letter," you said casually before taking a long slurp from your milkshake.

"What?"

"Remember when you had that phase of sending people handwritten letters?" Ben nods. I only wrote you letters, though, is what he wanted to say. You always talked about the men in those classic books you love to read writing letters.

You smile and reach into the pocket of your jean shorts. Out came a folded, yellowed piece of paper.

"I usually carry it in my wallet, but I wanted to remember to show you. God, your handwriting was so funky."

"Was not," an embarrassed Ben responded, putting his head in his arms so you wouldn't see him blush. The tips of his ears were still red, though. You giggle.

"Was too, you bum."

"I was nervous, okay. What 19-year-old is sending handwritten letters nowadays anyhow," Ben stated, rolling his eyes. You tilted your head and pointed at yourself. "Uh, this guy." Ben let out one of his signature laughs, and one of the veterans sitting at the counter turned to look at the two of you. Ben shot him an apologetic look and turned back to you.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I barely even remember what I wrote," Ben said, running a hand through his hair. The waitress came by and placed the check on the table. Before you could do anything, Ben put his card down.

You chuckled. "Well, let me read you my favorite part to jog your memory then." You cleared your throat and began:

"Something you said once popped in my head after the win today. You told me that when I matured, I'd be a great; how do I do that? I know that we're thousands of miles away, and you'll probably be asleep or out to lunch when this makes it to you, but I promise now, right now, that I'll be great, for you, ok?

And I wanted to say that I miss you — like, a lot. Take care of yourself; I'll be home soon."

You didn't even need to unfold the paper; it was imprinted on your brain from reading it over and over.

"Wow. I really wrote all that, huh," Ben murmured with a smile. Damn, she really likes that letter. Didn't even glance at it. He picked up his card off the table and signed the check. "Huh, maybe my handwriting is a little funky." You grinned, threw a ten-dollar bill on top of the tab, stood up from the table, and headed out of the restaurant. Ben jogged after you.

"Wanna do something fun," Ben asked, a little out of breath from chasing after you.

"You wouldn't know fun if it spit in your face," you quip back, letting your Southern accent come through.

"What about, I don't know, carnival fun?" He smirked and pointed at a sign across the road. You stood on your tip toes to look over his shoulder.

CARNIVAL IN 3 MILES!

"Good grief, always dragging me into something. You're driving this time, by the way." You threw your keys at his chest and tried to hide your smile.

All carnivals smell alike. Animals, fried food, sweat, and vomit will always produce the same odors, no matter where you are. But the scent that hit your nose, nor the joyous screams and yelling, didn't dampen your mood. The multitude of necklaces you wore clinked as you bounced on your toes.

Ben hands the man at the ticket booth a twenty, and the two of you make your way inside. "Here." You hold up Ben's hat. "Might wanna put this on."

"Oh, thank you," he says as he bends down. Understanding the message, you push his hair back and snugly put the hat on his head. "There you go, B."

Neither of you wanted to do anything particular, so you just milled about looking for things to do. Ben beat you at the high striker, but you got him back with your perfect shot at the duck shooting booth. He was now, begrudgingly, lugging around your three-and-a-half-foot panda for you while you snacked on cotton candy.

The sun sank behind the treeline, but it was still sweltering with the humidity and the other sweating bodies surrounding you. Ben watched as a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. He swallowed thickly and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. After meandering around a bit more, both of you grew tired of walking around and decided to sit down. The benches near the food trucks make for a perfect spot; you could watch people, Ben could watch you.

You scanned the area. A little girl wailed at a game booth nearby. Ring toss. But she's so tiny. You looked at the two adults beside her, most likely her parents. They appeared at their wit's end and on the verge of breaking down themselves. You glanced over at the bear. He still needs a name. Oh well.

"I'll be right back," you told Ben, who looked at you confused. Grabbing the panda from the spot next to you, you adjusted the straps of your tank top and made your way over to the family. Her parents noticed you first. "Is it okay if I talk to her," you asked with a sheepish smile. "Be our guest," her mother said, surprised.

"Hi there. What's your name?"

The girl sniffled and wiped her nose. "Maia."

"That's a beautiful name. Well, Maia, I won this panda right here, but I think you could use it more than I could. You have to promise me one thing."

Maia nodded enthusiastically, very ready to receive a stuffed bear almost as big as her. "Promise me that you won't give up so easily. And don't make things too hard for your parents," you said with a soft smile.

"Yes, ma'am. I promise," Maia said sweetly, tears all dried. "Are you a fairy," she asked as you handed over the bear. You barked out a laugh. "I guess I am now, sweetie. Bye for now. And be good." Maia grinned up at you and hugged your legs tights. You bent down to hug her back and glanced at her parents. "Thank you," her father mouthed at you. "No problem," you whispered back. Maia waved at you and skipped back to her parents. You waved back and turned around to where you were sitting.

Ben sat with his head against his hands, grinning like an idiot. "What are you looking all dopey at," you asked him. He stood up and looked down at you. "Just watching you. It was cute, that's all."

You chuckled as you walked away. "You sound like a creep out of context," you called over your shoulder. You walked for a bit and then stopped in front of the Ferris wheel. The bright lights and colorful seats swinging caught your attention. The sun had set, and the wind was finally picking up. You closed your eyes and rocked back and forth on your heels, humming a tune. Ben studied you from the side. All of your piercings. How your thumbs hooked around the belt loops of your shorts. That tattoo on the back of your elbow.

"Shit," Ben sighed. "I'm not sure I like you anymore."

Your eyes snap open as you turn to look up at him, the colored lights of the carnival dancing across your face. "What," you say incredulously.

"I said," he says with a drawn-out breath. "I don't think I like you anymore." A mischievous smile spreads across his face, adding to your confusion.

"What the hell is he on today," you murmur. Ben steps in front of you and places his hands on your shoulders. "What the hell am I on? You're what I'm on, that's what." He sighs. "And I'll shout 'Hey, I love this girl' from the rooftops if I have to. What can I say? I'm in love with you. Who in their right mind wouldn't be?" You push him off of you and put your hands on your knees. Ben's face drops from excitement to worry, worry that you might hate him and never see him again after his very public confession. But all of his anxieties are soothed once he hears your laugh. "Ben," you say through incessant giggling. "You're such a dork." The man frowns at you like a sad child.

"I'm sorry for laughing, B," you say, looking at him. "Come here." And it's the first real hug either of you have had all day. Ben feels you press your ear into his chest. "Are you listening to my heartbeat," he asks with a confused smile. "Yeah. Just want to make sure you're real before I say anything else." You give him another quick squeeze before stepping back. "I love you too, Ben. With all my heart."

"Promise? You're not lying, are you?"

"Pinky promise, baby. You know I don't lie to you."

"Yeah, I know." He had that dopey look on his face again. He really is in love. I got lucky.

"Let's continue this conversation in the car, shall we?" Ben asked as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

"We shall," you said with a smirk.

The cooler temperatures of the night had brought out the crowds. Still, neither of you would be there long enough to experience the carnival full of people. Not that it mattered anyway. There were more important things at hand.

Ben held your hand and led you through the droves of people back to the entrance. You watched his broad shoulders move under his t-shirt as he uttered his apologies and excuse me's to passersby. When you made it out of the gate and to the parking lot, which was really just an empty field, it took everything in you not to break out into a sprint. You wanted to scream and dance and cry all at once, but you suppressed those feelings and calmly walked to your car.

Ben led you to the front of the car and patted the hood, requesting that you hop up. You obliged and sat face to face with your best friend, the man you loved. He smiled and bit his bottom lip. "You're so pretty," he whispered before taking your face in his hands. "Hmm, you should see yourself," you hum.

"What? You think I look pretty?"

"I always think you look pretty."

You caress his face and look into his eyes. The two of you stare at each other for a beat. Ben quickly gazes at your lips, breaking eye contact first. Having had enough of the silence and suspense, he leans in and kisses you. You snatch his hat off and throw it on the windshield behind you to keep it from being awkward. Ben smiles against your lips. The kisses are soft, like he doesn't want to break you. His lips trace your cheeks, jawline, neck as you whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears.

"Could y'all get a room or something," a voice calls out, bringing you back to reality. Ben bristles, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck from embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ, Robert. Leave them alone; they're just kids. Besides, you're the one invading their privacy. This parking lot is empty, hon." The man mumbles something to his wife.

"Sorry, dears. This old man won't bother you anymore. Have fun," the lady says as she drags her husband to the ticket booth. You lift your head from Ben's shoulder and wave at her shrinking form. You turn back to Ben, who's trying his hardest to stifle his laughter, and you smile. "Here, I have a better idea," he says. Ben helps you down from the hood of the car and leads you to the rear door of your vehicle. You grabbed his hat off the windshield before either of you could forget. He opens the door and swivels his head to face you. "Only if you want, of course."

You looked down at the ground, suddenly shy, and nodded. "Yeah. I want to." Ben beamed at you before moving over to let you clamber in ahead of him. He climbs in and shuts the door behind you. Once again, you two are side by side, face to face. Ben's fingers snaked under your tank top and traced patterns on your lower back.

"So, what exactly is the plan," you asked softly, gazing into his eyes.

Ben leaned in to kiss your neck. "I was just going to figure it out as we went," he said, kissing behind your ear. "If that's ok."

"That's perfect," you hummed, running your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. The two of you were in your own little world, and neither had to tell a soul. It would end up as just one more secret that your car would have to keep.

author's note: finally getting this out of my system lol. can't believe I wrote all of this, geez

[axelsagewrites]

My dear author, I just read "Daemon Targaryen*In Charge" and omg it's amazing! That said, if you're taking requests could I get a part 2, extremely fluffy focused on their married life (how they support each other and are completely devoted to each other, stuff) please?

Daemon Targaryen*My Moon and Stars

Pairing: Daemon x essos!reader

Summary: The reader experiences a peaceful day of married life since moving to Westeros for love

Word count: 1419

This is a fluffy sequel to In Charge. Can be read by itself

Warnings: just pure fluff

Masterlist Here

Translations:

Kirimvose - thank you

Ñuha qēlos - my star

Ñuho glaeso hūrus - moon of my life

It was easy to miss Essos, the smell of its spices, the music that rang in the streets like church bells, and the hot summer sun. Moving from the depths of the East to the capital of the West had been a big adjustment, to say the least. The lords spoke differently here, the streets were busy but somehow not as loud, and the air was cold even when others said it was warm. A foreign land with strange people yet for some reason you kept choosing to stay.

Daemon was the reason why. He was the reason you didn’t pick a ship and sail back. He was the reason you smiled, the reason you laughed, the reason your body felt warm even during the winter season. He was also currently laying behind you, arm lazily draped over your waist. His fingers drew light circles over your hip bone.

“We must wake dear husband,” you said, stifling the yawn that threatened to spill. You had gone to bed later than usual last night and the reason why lay behind you.

Daemon brushed the hair off your shoulder, placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, “Not yet ñuha qēlos,” my star he called you. The star from the east to guide him home he would call you.

“ñuho glaeso hūrus,” you said back slowly, the pronunciation feeling tight on your tongue. “Did I say it right?” You asked, turning your head at first but soon moving to lay on your back to gaze up at his face.

“Yes qēlos,” he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. While you were the star, he was the moon. Moon of my life. He’d taught you the phrase after he taught you qēlos. “Your Valerian is almost as good as mine,” his lilac eyes gazed into yours and sometimes at night you wondered if the moon would be prettier in purple.

Later that day once you had finally managed to pry Daemon from his marriage bed you decided to walk the grounds while Daemon trained in the courtyard. The red keep had been quiet recently, perhaps too quiet, but nonetheless, you decided to enjoy the rarity to its full extent. As you walked you noticed all the other wives gathered in clusters with their sewing or their embroidery or occasionally a book.

While the wives may have smiled at you and asked polite questions it had yet to go further. Lady Beesbury smiled at you from her embroidery group, even lifting her hand for a small wave. “They’ll love you once they know you. Like I have, “Daemon's words rang in your heads as you took your first step over. “Ladies,” you greeted the three as you approached.

“Princess,” all greeted, bowing their eyes down before looking back up. You found the curtseying and bowing and titles of Westeros all so painful, but you did not want to correct them yet. “Have you come to join us princess?” Lady Harte asked, glancing around the group.

“If you would like me to my lady,” you said, daemon having spent many a night with you teaching you how to speak to people at court.

Lady Beesbury grinned as she shuffled over on the bench she sat on, “It would be an honour princess,”

“Thank you,” you said, sitting down next to her, glancing at her embroidery, “But please we are in our own company, call me by my name,”

“Very well,” Lady Beesbury said, a smile eating up her face, “Well (Y/N) I’m Alice and these are my friends,” as Alice began to introduce you to your new group you didn’t notice the watchful lilac eyes from the windows above.

Daemon stood silently, leaning on the balcony watching how you smiled as you spoke, how your hands moved with each word, with a relaxed grin on his face. He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching you until he saw Lady Beesbury finger-pointing him out to you. When your eyes met, he noticed your smile widening. Daemon didn’t want to ruin your fun however so left it at a simple wave.

As he walked through the corridors, he noticed a face that he knew would soon become familiar, “Lord Beesbury,” Daemon greeted, suddenly approaching the slightly bumbling man that had been roaming court for the past month. “Do you and your wife have planned this evening?”

“N-not my prince,” the man stuttered out, his cheeks pinking at the edges, “Can we be of service to you in anyway?”

Daemon chuckled lightly at this, “You can help us polish off the plates if you’d like. Would you both like to join us at dinner?” Daemon even managed to have him track down the other wives and their husbands and you were shocked to find out about the sudden dinner party you were hosting.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you told daemon in your chambers as you finished getting ready. Your hands sneaked around his waist, pulling him into you, “But what’s with the sudden want for company darling?”

“It was nice to see you making friends,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face, “and see you smile of course,” he added when he saw the grin spreading across your cheeks.

The dinner had been a success and Daemon even managed to enjoy himself somehow, but he was thankful that it was over. “I forget how much I hate to share,” he mumbled into your neck.

You laughed as you pushed him off of you. “You were right by my side the whole night my moon,” you said as you stroked his cheek, “Besides I cannot have my bath with you clinging to my hip like a wanting child,”

Daemon grinned, his eyebrow-raising, “A bath you say?” He said as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“My bath,” you said pointedly, your hand pushing against his strong chest, “For I smell horrible,”

“You’ve never smelt horrible,” Daemon said but finally he relinquished his grip. As you turned to finish the touches on your bath, Daemon moved to sit on a chair close by. You worked silently, filling the bath with milks, honey, salts, and flowers as daemon watched each move. When you moved here impromptu you had left much of Essos behind, but Daemon was soon to send for all the salts and dried flowers you needed for these baths.

The water had turned a milky lilac once you’d finished and the steam from the water smelt like a sweet flower in spring. As you reached for the laces of your dresses Daemon stood silently. Without words he moved to stand behind you, pulling on each lace gently until he slipped the dress over your shoulders to pool on the floor.

You stepped out of the dress, moving over to step in the bath when you looked up to see Daemon carefully folding the fine silk dress away into the correct chest. You let yourself enjoy the sight, your husband oblivious to your gaze, before allowing yourself to enter the hot water, sighing as the warmth enveloped your body.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you rested your head on the edge of the bath. When heard footsteps pad across the floor, the sound of a chair scraping stone, then felt soft fingertips trail along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered open and when they looked up you saw Daemon looking down. “Relax ñuha qēlos,” he said gently, his voice not far above a whisper.

Allowing your eyes to shut again you let Daemon continue his movements. His fingers slipping into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp at first making you groan in pleasure. He continued his work silently, grabbing a hair oil from your chest of smells and pastes. His fingers stroked through your hair, using the oil the way he had watched you do many times. You let yourself enjoy the silence, enjoy his touch.

After he had finished with your hair daemon had you sit further forward to massage your back, working out any tension Westeros had caused. “Thank you,” you whispered into the near-silent room as Daemon worked out a knot in your shoulder.

Daemon paused for a moment, holding your shoulders in his hands. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek without caring that he got his shirt wet. None of that mattered to him right now, “Anything for you ñuha qēlos,”

“kirimvose ñuho glaeso hūrus,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[thatwritterbeach]

So, About That Alley .1

Jason Todd x fmc Alex

Unedited***

Dc masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing

A/N: I do not own anything dc, also DO NOT use sewing supplies for stitches, not silk, cotton or polyester it will get infected *Vaginismus: Vaginismus is a condition in which involuntary muscle spasm interferes with vaginal intercourse or other penetration of the vagina. This often results in pain with attempts at sex. The condition is different for everyone.

not my gif and not great for the story but only three were loading so

For starters Alex, or Al, did not expect to find her window bashed in, granted this was Gotham so it happens. For seconders, after pulling her gun, that Jason didn't know she had, and walking through her entire apartment only to find the Red Hood passed out in her bathroom bleeding half to death from what she assumed to be a knife wound in his thigh. A thigh her brain was telling her looked a bit too familiar but no time to dwell. For thirdsers, this motherfucker was heavy, like beached whale heavy, what with all the muscle and armor, it took her a good five minutes to heave him up into a sitting position where she could use her pocket knife to cut away his pant leg and shit that looked bad, like how the fuck was she gonna fix this bad. Hoping the passed out hero didn't die while she gathered some supplies she sped around to boil some water and get her way too extensive first aid kit. With clean hands and a sterile needle she pulled the first stitch through the wound which caused Hood to shoot awake and lightening fast reflexes to latch around her throat making her drop the needle and grasp futily at the strong arms.

"Ple-s, tr-ng-hp," she wheezed looking into white lenses giving nothing away. He released her with a shake of his head and would have rushed an apology if his voice modulator wasn't busted from the fight. With what he hoped was a less than threatening gesture he pointed to his wound and gave her a carry on hand wiggle.

"Yr a ray f sunshine," she said with only a light cough. Last time she stitches up some huge guy in her bathroom. He grunted in affirmation? And let his head thud back against her bright white, well before he showed up, wall.

"Do you often break into helpless women's apartments and try to strangle them for stitching you up," she asked to help distract him from the needle moving in and out of his skin. He clicked his tongue and gave a pointed helmeted look at her gun she had placed on the floor. If he wanted to kill her she was certain he could do it before she even lifted it, and hey the Hood was good, right?

"Don't tell my boyfriend, he doesn't like me around guns. Not sure what the problem is, Gotham is pretty shit, and in case you hadn't;t noticed I'm pretty small, and traffic-able," she said with an eye roll pouring some of Jason's beloved whiskey on the wound. Hood hissed and let out a familiar sounding curse but didn't move a muscle in what she knew to be a painfully rehearsed move.

"Don't tell him about the whiskey either, hopefully I'll get to the store first."

"Boyfriend sounds like a dick," Hood said in what was clearly a fake gravely voice.

"Your Batman voice is pretty shit. And Jason is great, fantastic, best thing to ever happen to me."

"Me thinks the dutch protest too much."

"Hey don't make me give you an ugly scar, I'm being careful here," she chastised. "Anyway, Jason is the love of my pathetic little life, without him...without him I wouldn't be here. Not that he knows, he has enough shit to worry about without me and my nonsense, but-"

"You wanna kill yourself," came his surprised yelp.

"I have a question?"

"Not till you answer mine."

"It's not that I want to kill myself it's that I don't wanna be alive sometimes, and without him I wouldn't be. Now my turn-"

"Why do you have a stitched kit," and the modulated voice started working again.

"No fair."

"I'm the one bleeding," he snarked.

"Yeah in my bathroom, which I just cleaned by the way. I kinda sort maybe hurt myself," she mumbled in a whisper knotting off the last stitch and moving to another nasty looking one.

"As in, cut yourself." Hard to tell with the computer but she almost heard hurt? In his voice.

"Yeah, no so much anymore, what with the boyfriend and all but it used to be bad, bad enough I learned to do my own stitched, not that it was hard being a seamstress already and all."

"Why?"

"It's a pain I can control."

"I get that." Her eyes shot to the white slits in surprise.

"But you-"

"Are ruggedly good looking, a killer shot, and the badass hero Red Hood."

"Humble too."

"What was your question?"

"Hypothetically," she paused to lean back and gesture for his jacket to come off so she could work on his shoulder that had been shot," if you had a girlfriend-"

"Saying my charm couldn't snag a chick?"

"If your girlfriend, was trying to tell you she can't have sex, how would you want her to phrase it?" Her hands were steady in their mission of checking for vital damage her eyes trained on the red flesh so she mistook his intake of breath as a hiss of pain and made her fingers more gentle.

"She doesn't want to have sex or..."

"Can't, like physically speaking."

"Is she a hermaphrodite?"

"No, she was r*ped as a child and now her body freaks out whenever contact is attempted," Alex ground out starring straight ahead at her task, not crying cuz that's a bitch move.

"Were you?"

"I said hypothetically." His jaw twitched inside the helmet and his fists clenched at his side aching to rip his helmet off and pull her into him.

"Hypothetically is the pos dead," he asked playing along.

"Hypothetically, yes."

"Real life good, can I ask what happens when you try to have sex, not that you should ever force yourself."

"It's like trying to penetrate a brick wall, it's excruciatingly painful and sometimes there's blood."

"i'm sorry."

"Your side doesn't look like it's gonna clot anytime soon, better lift your shirt for me." He hesitated but she hardly ever saw him shirtless as himself so fingers crossed. Halfway through wiping the blood off she paused and poked at a spot near his hip where a too familiar scar was.

"So hood," she carried on hoping he hadn't noticed what she prodded.

"Yeah?"

"Got any family?" The conversation stayed solely on him while she finished, she made sure of it and when he was patched to perfection she fixed his pant leg and sent him on his limping way. When she was sure he was gone she boarded up the window, seething at her boyfriend for breaking it instead of busting the lock. Taking deep calming breathes her brain replayed every piece of information she'd just given him. Shit shit shit how was she gonna get out of this one. Lie her ass off that's how.

Jason was do to meet her for breakfast so she got up early and made a full spread sure to add all his favorites. Part way through her mixing her brain connected the dots, Nightwing and Hood hang out, Nightwing used to be Robin, Hood must have been robin, the robins work with Bruce, as she figured out years ago, I mean come on the money for the tech had to come from somewhere. So she was dating Bruce Wayne's son.

"Honey, I'm home," Jason mocked from the door. He rounded the small corner to the kitchen and held out some flowers to her.

"These are nice, what's the occasion," she feigned interest as she put them in a vase.

"Just to say I love you."

"Love you too."

She could feel him growing nervous as he took in the masterpiece she had created. With a soft smile she pointed to a seat and he took it with only slight apprehension, failing in holding back a wince at his injuries.

"I think your ass is much better than Dick's."

"What," he nearly yelled.

"I just means everyone drools over Nightwing's ass but I promise your is better," she said conversationally like they were talking about the weather.

"How did you-"

"Figure out who Nightwing was, actually I've known for years, pretty obvious to anyone not strung out which in this city is unheard of. It didn't click until last night that you were a Robin though."

"But you knew I was Red hood?"

"Well, duh, how stupid do you think I am? The while dying thing through me on the Robin bit I'll be honest but I got there." He knew they needed to talk, he needed to apologize for not telling her, she needed to explain what the hell she was talking about last night.

"I've known for a while now, just thought I'd tow with you for breaking my window," she said munching on a waffle while his chilled on their plate.

"So you lied?" He was actually hoping it all was a lie, a mean lie but he did think he was keeping a huge one from her so.

"Actually in terms of body, your thighs are far superior to your ass," she said avoiding his question.

"What's wrong with my ass," head asked making a show of turning in his chair to glance down.

"Nothing, but I don't really wanna ride your ass." The sip of hot coffee he had tried to take was forcefully ejected and he sputtered for an eternity before locking eyes with her. His wide and shocked, her's cool and coy.

"Your thighs," she said slowly," give me life, I want to ride both of them until I can't walk straight." Her smile was so sweet she could have been offering him a cookie.

"You want to-"

"Yes, please," she didn't let him finish his sentence, or his food as she dragged him into the bedroom. He fell back on the bed with a small grunt of pain that was quickly replaced when she stripped off her sleep shorts and turned to show him her ass, which he had never seen with so little coverage, and was incased in the same shade of red as his helmet, the lace showing more than it hid as she bent over and wiggled 'getting her shorts untangled from her feet'.

"Like the color," she teased turning back around with a devilish smirk.

"Is it a matching set," he practically whimpered as she straddled his good thigh, still in dark was jeans.

"Pity you wore such a dark color, I was hoping to mark my terf," she pouted struggling slightly to get footing since her legs were so much shorter than his. He helped steady her by grabbing at her hips and helping her glide back and forth.

"Your terf," he smirked.

"Of course, if you prefer you can keep the panties in your pocket," she purred, but inside she was gagging.

"I can," he nearly giggled in delight. Well if that didn't prove last night she was spinning a tragic story. Of course, unbeknownst to him she had injected herself with a heavy enough dose of Morphine to knock out a gorilla hoping to all the gods it was enough to at least dull the pain she was getting ready to force herself through.

See masterlist for more

8-6-24

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction ❃ at first sight ❃ chapter 1

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! AU

directory/m.list

next chapter ⇨

It was love at first sight. 

Bakugou remembers his first encounter with his first love like it was yesterday. He met her at a local café; it was small but quiet and cozy. The string lights in the small space were what caught his eye at first, meticulously placed to create ambient lighting. It was as if someone took the stars out of the sky and placed them around the café. But that was before he met her.

It’s weird for Bakugou to admit it, but she smelled so good. 

Better than anything he’d ever smelled before. He was intoxicated. It was an aroma he’d experienced before, but it was so much more intense here. It was such a sweet smell that was warm and slightly bitter, with notes of roasted beans that carried a subtle hint of caramel. It was earthy and comforting with a touch of sweetness that lingered, wrapping the room in its cozy, familiar embrace. The scent was also both energizing and calming, a blend of warmth and depth that made the café feel even more intimate.

 He knew he’d never love another after experiencing his first love. 

Though, he was only four years old. 

The name of his first love was coffee.

Bakugou had never been to this café before this. He knew either his mom or his dad would always visit this place before a particularly busy day–- especially days before a show. He explicitly noticed the way his dad would have two or three of these empty cups by his desk while sketching out his ideas or spending hours at his sewing table. 

He saw the brown stains where the seam of the cup met the lid, and it was unlike anything he’d seen before. Bakugou likened it to how he’d imagine gasoline to look; he’d seen it recently, and it was clear. Highly disappointing. He lost his interest in cars after that fiasco.

It looked different from the milk he’d drink with his breakfast in the morning (for strong bones, his mom would repeat) and from the orange juice he drank with his lunch (for vitamin C, his dad would insist). He didn’t even know what vitamin C was. All he knew was that it was good for you. In what way? He had no clue. 

As a kid, when Bakugou first smelled the dark concoction, he was in love. He asked his mom if he could take a sip, seeing this strange black liquid in the paper takeout cups his mom grabbed for herself and his dad. 

His mom had agreed, but only let him have a little bit, knowing that it would make him become an even more of the irritating gremlin that he already was; his spiky tufts of blonde hair and red eyes that looked like they were ready to take over the world at his tender age. She didn’t think he’d like it– the brew she ordered was black. No sugar, no cream, nothing. Nothing that a typical kid would enjoy.

But when he took a sip of the coffee after his mother uttered a “Careful, it’s hot,” his eyes lit up like Newton realizing that gravity exists. 

The apple that dropped onto the ground became a mild obsession for the four-year-old. The taste was unlike anything he’d ever had! The taste was bitter but acidic, and the smell of it alone was so beautiful–so aromatic, so relaxing. 

When he asked his mom for more and she responded, “No, this is an adult drink. it’ll make you bounce off the walls too much,” he pouted for the rest of the day, sitting on the stool next to his dad with his cheeks puffed and tiny little arms crossed in a baby rebellion. His mom furrowed her brows, thinking about how weird it is for a kid to like coffee. When she’d ask her friends about it, they’d be like, “Ha! I let my daughter try some coffee, and her face wrinkled up like when she tried a lemon for the first time!” 

But she just excused it to Bakugou being a weird kid. She wasn’t wrong– he was a weird child.

As he grew older, he was allowed to drink more and more coffee. His mom held the ability to drink coffee over his head like a hostage. He’d relent to taking more photos in the cute children’s version of designer clothes just for another tiny sip. However, his parents had to pay the price later when he was bouncing off the walls, ceilings, and every nearby human being.

Thus, he knew he’d be here today. In a café, brewing cups of coffee for random people. In his words, he’d say, “None of these shit cafés do it right. If I don’t do it, all the coffee ‘round here would be shit.” When hearing this answer, his friends laughed in his face and exposed his real reason to open a café. In reality, he put his time and effort into opening a coffee shop because he wanted to see people’s faces light up after taking their first sip of coffee– just like his face did.

-

Bakuou Katsuki had early, early mornings, waking up at 4 am to go to the gym before taking a quick shower and opening up his café on one of the less busy streets in the town. The place always opened up at 6:00 am sharp with his pride depending on it.

Today was a cold November weekday morning, a day like usual. His regulars came in asking for their usual order, but with coats sprinkled with melting snow and with slightly red noses. Rudolph would be proud. This morning, he was the only one working. It wasn’t a problem– not like it’s gonna be too busy, anyway. (It was going to be very busy. Bakugou is just insanely competent.)

He sat at his stool with a black beanie sat atop his head, a black ribbed sweater turtleneck stretched across his chest and muscled arms. He wore this under his café apron along with a pair of well-fitted slacks that spanned across his legs perfectly. The way he looked was a huge selling point in the café. Men and women would come just to flirt with him and grab a cup of coffee. Great for business. He waited for people to start waking up and coming in for a cup-- around 8 AM.

Bakugou scrubbed through the photos of coat designs his dad sent to his family group chat, putting a thumbs-up reaction to the ones that caught his eye. Recently, it seemed like his dad was getting new inspiration from Finding Dory. He wondered how a movie about a confused blue fish inspired his father, but he learned not to question the fashion industry too much as a child. Artists are insane.

Even as he thought this, his father responded to one of his messages in the chat, apparently confused by one of his suggestions as a change to one of the designs. He sighed and grabbed his sketchbook that was placed conveniently under the register along with a pencil and quickly sketched out the changes to the design with a practiced and experienced hand. He took a photo and sent it to the group chat, admiring his drawing before turning his phone off and slipping his sketchbook into its rightful place. He’d drawn it next to multiple other sketches of suggestions he had for his parents, pages and pages filled with sketches of croquis. 

Artists are insane, indeed. But Bakugou was one of them, himself. 

As soon as the ‘sent!’ notification noise of the sketch photo hit his ears, so did the ring of the door. In walked a woman who looked like she’d been through some shit. 

She pushed down her mask, further revealing deep dark circles and teeth that were definitely chattering because of the cold. “Triple shot espresso over ice,” came out her voice, which also sounded like she’d been through it. Bakugou likened it to the grating of a skin's garbage disposal. A thin line of snot slowly dripped down her nose, and she quickly pulled up her mask in embarrassment.

Bakugou’s eyes avoided her face in politeness (and also because it was gross) and thus were drawn to her ears instead. Her earrings were a distinct design from one of Gucci’s lines–one of the more subtle ones. But he noticed it right away, seeing the long thread design with a pearl dropped at the bottom. Her open cream-colored trench coat also looked very familiar, but Bakugou couldn’t place his finger on it. He subtly raked his eyes over the coat to find a logo anywhere. He couldn’t find one. Her turtleneck looked nearly identical to his own.

But why the heck did she buy an espresso over ice if she was already freezing? He did it anyway. He’s seen weirder orders.

He didn’t let his analysis of her and her clothing interrupt his work, however. “Can I get a name for this order?” He asked, unnecessarily. There was nobody else in the café. He asked to satisfy his own curiosity.

She told him, shuffling through her book bag to grab her wallet. Her brows slightly raised in surprise upon hearing the price, and she handed him her credit card. This was when he saw the logo on her coat. Kindeki. 

He immediately got to brewing her espresso.

In the corner of his eye, Bakugou saw you place all of your items on a window-side table. You brushed your fingers through your hair a little before twisting it and securing it into a claw clip. You’d taken off the mask completely, and he fully took in how tired you looked.

You placed your laptop on the table, but took a moment to bury your face in your hands. You took in and let out a deep breath before opening up your laptop to get ready to work.

Bakugou could almost feel your pain from the counter. The espresso was finished after a couple seconds, and he poured the hot liquid over some ice and placed it into a mug for you. He called your name, grabbing your attention. When you went to the counter to grab your coffee, Bakugou felt your hands slightly brush up against his. There was one thought in his mind:  “Her hands are dry as fuck.” 

Apart from your put-together outfit, the rest of you was visibly going through the wringer. In his mind, it looked like you drank one too many shots of vodka last night because one of your favorite characters in a TV show died, and you had a test the next day. Your tiredness was palpable. It made him feel like he was tired even though he had a full eight hours of sleep.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye for the next six hours you sat and worked in his café. He watched as you typed up a storm on your laptop, and sighed loudly before reading over your work. It was cute how you tapped your foot on the ground while thinking, lips tucked under your teeth whilst thinking. Or was it annoying? Bakugou couldn’t choose. At least it was in rhythm to the quiet lofi playing in the café. 

About midway through your long stay in the café, Bakugou was in the current daily rush. People were coming in fast, and he was the only worker. Somehow, he was still able to give people their coffee in less than five minutes each. He definitely did not time himself and mentally shit on big coffee chains every time he finished working through an entire crowd by himself. And he absolutely did not gloat about his prowess and ability each time. Fuck you, Starbucks.

A couple minutes after the rush hour, as if it were planned (it was– you didn’t want to bother him even more during his rush hour), you went up to the counter to return the mug and ask for a cup of water. At this time, you also looked different. Bakugou’s eyes visibly widened and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. 

Your hair was different, and you’d put on makeup that concealed your very dark under eyes. You even had the eyeshadow? highlighter? or something (Bakugou forgot what it was called) in the corner of your eyes. Your hair–did it always have those red streaks? Maybe he was just imagining it. It’s impossible for you to have dyed your hair in his café. Did you put in extensions or something? His mind flooded with questions as his eyes scanned your figure.

He didn’t verbally question it. He just gave you your cup of water and basked in his confusion. Where the fuck did you do your hair? When were you doing your makeup? He’s pretty sure he checked up on you every ten minutes or so, even during rush hour.

This woman’s efficiency is insane. She’s also pretty cute.

a/n: taglist is open for this series! just let me know <3

also, stay hydrated, folks!

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨