#tall like celery

[ryllen]

still on with the vegetable debate 🥗🥬🥒🥦🚜🧑‍🌾

[mikethebrave]

i'm not very enthused about tlou s2 for a handful of reasons and considering what i've seen so far i feel like my list of reasons is likely to grow (though i hope it doesn't), but. there's, like. no other zombie shows on the teevee right now, so. what choice does a bitch have other than to keep watching really especially when my loves dina, jesse, and tommy are right there 😔💔

[kuncitizen]

The changes seem almost imperceptible at first.

Gojo's bathroom rack, once barren except for a two-in-one shampoo that doubles as body wash—is now cluttered with pastel bottles, a pink loofah with a bow, and some mysterious scrub labeled watermelon smoothie (which, to his utter disappointment, was not edible).

The mirror near the rack—once mounted at his freakishly tall eye level—now has a mini mirror suctioned right beside it, tilted lower just for you.

You didn’t even say anything. Just sighed one morning, yawned, and slapped it on with sleepy precision. He had laughed at you for being bite-sized, but caught himself using it when trimming his jawline.

And the fridge used to be sad, truly. Half a bottle of lychee-flavoured lemonade, a sketchy cucumber, and maybe a Red Bull or five.

Now there's fresh strawberries in containers you washed, vegetables, spices arranged alphabetically in matching jars. He made fun of it at first. But then two weeks later, when he could find the cumin instantly, he stared into the distance and muttered, “My baby's a genius.”

There’s a polaroid stuck to the fridge door with a peach-shaped magnet. You’re in the middle of the frame, laughing so hard your eyes are half-closed. Gojo’s beside you, one arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders as he makes the dumbest face known to man, while his other arm yanks a scowling Megumi into the shot like a hostage. The caption, scribbled in your messy handwriting, reads:

Family dinner (Megumi hates us).

Just beneath the photo, pinned by the same magnet, is a torn piece of paper:

-milk

-eggs

-bread

-celery

-don’t forget the glazed donuts you like even though they give you heartburn <3

Gojo keeps the list even after everything’s been bought, folding it once and slipping it into his pocket.

Because it might be just some grocery list to anyone else. But to him, it’s written in your handwriting, smells faintly like your lotion, and—most importantly—it ends with a <3.

So naturally, there’s no official "you moved in” moment. No big conversations or suitcases.

It's your scent lingering on his pillow. Your toothbrush sitting next to his in a cup he swears he didn’t buy.

It’s your hair ties scattered on his bedside table, the black ones that Gojo swears just keep multiplying. But he sometimes picks them up and just holds them for no reason, like they’re sacred relics of a goddess.

And then there are the things that aren’t objects at all.

The moments that take up space. The gestures, the silences, the care stitched into his life like you’ve always been part of it.

Like when you were were in the laundry folding his shirts, humming off-key to something on your phone and snapping the fabric mid-air like you meant business. You didn’t notice him at first—standing in the hallway, gripping the doorframe like he’s been physically hit with feelings.

Gojo had to literally bite his knuckle to keep himself from bursting into tears or tackle you mid-fold and bite your arm out of the sheer overload of affection.

Or just last night, when he swore he passed out with the lights still on, jacket half-off, phone dead on the nightstand. He only remembers collapsing onto the mattress with his head pounding, too tired to even take off his shoes.

But he wakes up warm. Shoes off, lights out, a blanket tucked around his figure. There's a note scribbled in your familiar writing, just beside the glass of water and packets of Tylenol placed on the bedside table.

“Took your shoes off and put painkillers on the table. You looked like roadkill. Love you.”

He stared at it for a full ten minutes, blanket pulled to his chin like a little boy, blinking at the ceiling with the stunned realization that someone out there loved him like this—so gently, so normally, that it didn’t even ask to be acknowledged.

Gojo rolls out of bed like a man reborn and follows the smell of something frying in the kitchen.

Because of course, you’re there.

Barefoot, standing on your tiptoes at the stove, lips pursed in concentration as you stir something sizzling in a pan. His hoodie swallows you whole, dipping low on your thighs, sleeves bunched around your wrists. Your hair’s twisted up messily, and he swears if he looks any longer, he’s going to melt into the floor like a cartoon character.

It’s almost unfair how casual you look in his space. Like you were meant to be there. Like the room rearranged itself around you.

Gojo forgets his exhaustion in an instant. The only thing sore now is his heart.

He pads over and wraps his arms around you from behind, arms sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Gojo mumbles against your skin.

You snort. “I’m literally making food for you.”

“That’s not what’s gonna kill me.”

“What, the garlic?”

“The fact that you’re standing in my kitchen looking like a walking dream,” he grumbles, kissing the side of your neck.

You laugh, wiggling your hips slightly to throw him off. “Down, boy. You’re gonna burn your fingers.”

He groans like he’s actually in pain, but doesn’t move. If anything, he presses closer, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck and mumbling nonsense into your skin.

“Y’know,” you say, flipping the pan with ease, “if you distract me, and we both die in a fire, that’s on you.”

“Worthy sacrifice,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone.

Gojo's hand slides down—slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. His fingers find yours, and he gently pulls your left hand away from the spatula. You blink, confused, as he lifts your hand and lightly wraps his fingers around your ring finger, measuring.

You raise a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he replies way too fast.

You squint at him. “Is this another one of your weird kinks or—”

“Shh.” He coos as he kisses the tip of your finger. “Just checking if my future plans align.”

You narrow your eyes further, suspicious of where Gojo's going with this.

“You like rubies better or diamonds?”

You pause. “What?”

He grins into your shoulder, kissing it again. “I’m just saying. Hypothetically. If a guy wanted to be smart and lock it down before someone else does.”

Your voice comes out quieter than expected. “You’re serious?”

Gojo leans in, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere, suddenly stripped of the teasing.

“I am so stupidly, pathetically serious about you, it’s embarrassing. I want to marry the girl who makes my apartment feel like more than just four walls. I want to put a ring on the hand that steals my hoodies and flips me off.”

Your lips part, but he keeps going.

“I want you in my kitchen, in my bed, even in my closet. Even when you leave coffee mugs everywhere. Even when you hog the blanket. Even when you bully me for crying during Pixar trailers.”

“You do cry during Pixar trailers.”

“And I’ll cry during our wedding vows too. I’m not an insecure man.”

You lean in and kiss him before he gets all sappy again, hands tangling in his hair as he wraps his arms fully around you, pulling you close enough to feel every soft breath.

Halfway through, Gojo smiles against your lips like he can’t help it. Like his heart spilled out through his mouth and all it could do was grin stupidly.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, eyes half-lidded, that smile still lingering.

“So, rubies or diamonds?”

You roll your eyes, but your own smile creeps in anyway. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he replies.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s already engraving your ring size into permanent memory.

A/N: I literally got so lazy that I didn't even proofread before posting this. So if you spot a typo, no you didn't.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The taste of desire | LN4

🥧 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando share a flirtatious, passionate moment while cooking, ending with a kiss and a mutual desire to explore their chemistry.

🥧 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🥧 word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

🥧 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The sizzle of oil in the pan filled the kitchen, a gentle symphony that masked the undeniable thrum of tension between them. Y/N stood at the counter, her hands moving with precision as she chopped vegetables, the knife gliding effortlessly through carrots and celery. Her focus was sharp, but every now and then, she’d catch Lando out of the corner of her eye—his tall frame leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, his lips twitching into a smirk whenever their gazes met.

He’s watching me. The thought sent a flutter through her chest, quick and insistent, like a hummingbird beating its wings. She shook it off, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. But no matter how hard she tried, the air between them felt charged, crackling with something she couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either.

“Need some help?” Lando asked, pushing off the fridge and sauntering over. His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an edge to it that made her stomach dip.

“I think I’ve got it,” she replied, not looking up. Her tone was light, but her fingers tightened around the knife handle as he came closer. The warmth of his presence seemed to wrap around her, magnetic and impossible to resist.

“You sure?” He was right behind her now, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Because I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “Handy, huh?''

“Totally,” he said, flashing her that grin of his—the one that made her heart skip a beat. “I can chop faster than you can.”

“Oh, really?” She turned fully to face him, tilting her head. “Care to prove it?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, those blue/ green eyes of his glinting with challenge. Then, without warning, he reached past her for the cutting board. His hand brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Watch and learn,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched his hands move with practiced ease, the knife slicing through the vegetables with precision. There was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved, the way he exuded confidence even in something as mundane as chopping carrots. And yet, it wasn’t just his skill that had her captivated. It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way his gaze lingered on her lips, the way his touch seemed to linger on her skin long after he pulled away.

“See?” he said after a moment, straightening up and giving her a triumphant smile. “Told you I was handy.”

“Hmm,” she replied, feigning disinterest as she turned back to the stove. But her cheeks burned, and she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her hand.

The rest of dinner prep passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen glances. Every time they reached for the same utensil or passed each other in the narrow space, their bodies would brush, sending sparks flying between them. Lando was relentless, his touches deliberate, his teasing comments loaded with double meanings. And Y/N? Well, she might have been playing it cool, but inside, she was a mess.

By the time they sat down to eat, the atmosphere between them had shifted completely. The air was thick with unspoken desire, the tension so palpable it felt like it could be cut with a knife. They talked and laughed, but every now and then, their eyes would meet, and the world would fall away—just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

When dinner was done, Y/N stood to clear the table, but Lando stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Let me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to his hand before meeting his eyes. “It’s fine, really.”

“I know,” he replied, his grip tightening slightly. “But I want to.”

There was something in his tone, something raw and unfiltered, that made her pause. She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she nodded. “Okay.”

As he moved around the table, collecting dishes, Y/N found herself watching him again. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known—confident, charming, with a devil-may-care attitude that somehow only added to his allure. And yet, there was something vulnerable about him too, something hidden beneath the surface that made her want to peel back the layers and see what lay beneath.

When he finished stacking the plates by the sink, he turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You know,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, taking a step toward her. “But it’s getting harder and harder.”

She couldn’t look away from him, her breath hitching as he closed the gap between them. “Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because,” he said, his hands settling on her hips, “you make it impossible.”

Impossible. The word echoed in her mind as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. His hands were warm against her skin, his touch sending shivers down her spine. And then, before she could say anything, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft, so tender, it took her breath away.

“Lando,” she murmured against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

“Shh,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “Just let go.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. Every nerve in her body was hyper-aware of him—the warmth of his body against hers, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his fingers felt like they were burning through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. ''We should finish our dessert first.''

He laughed softly, a sound that sent vibrations through her entire body. “Dessert will still be there,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “And so will I.”

Before she could respond, his hands slid higher, his fingertips tracing the underside of her ribs as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N gasped, her legs going weak beneath her. She reached out blindly, grabbing for the edge of the counter to steady herself, but Lando’s grip on her was firm, holding her in place as his lips trailed fire along her skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she muttered, half-heartedly trying to push him away. But there was no real force behind the movement, and they both knew it. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, her nails digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as she swayed closer to him.

Lando smirked against her neck, clearly pleased with himself. “Crazy good or crazy bad?” he teased, his voice light but his touch anything but casual. His hands moved again, one sliding up to cup her jaw while the other traced down her spine, sending shivers cascading through her.

“Both,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he was looking at her like that, like she was everything he wanted and nothing he could ever have enough of.

“Good,” he said simply, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone before he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. It was quick, almost chaste, but it left her breathless all the same. When he pulled back, his blue/ green eyes were dark with desire, his smile gone now, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat rising between them, the tension so thick it was almost tangible. And yet, despite the way her body screamed at her to give in, she hesitated. There was something electric about this moment, something dangerous, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive headfirst into whatever this was between them.

But Lando didn’t give her time to think. He was relentless, his hands moving with purpose as he guided her backward, until her thighs hit the edge of the countertop. “Lando—” she started to protest, but he didn’t let her finish. Instead, he kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a confidence that left no room for argument.

Y/N moaned against his lips, her hands fisting in his hair as she surrendered to the sensation. She could feel the hardness of the counter digging into her thighs, but it hardly registered amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Lando’s hands were everywhere—on her waist, her hips, her cheeks—his touch searing through her clothes and straight to her core.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered against her mouth, his voice rough with need. “You feel so fucking good.”

His words only fueled her own desire, her body arching toward his as she deepened the kiss. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh, and it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. This was reckless, impulsive, but right now, she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he made her feel, wanted, desired, needed.

Lando broke the kiss then, his breathing heavy as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And I will.”

But neither of them really believed it. Y/N stared up at him, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and shook her head. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s eyes darkened further at her response, and without another word, he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter. Y/N gasped as her legs parted instinctively, giving him access to where she needed him most. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin just above her knees as he leaned in closer.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice nearly breaking. His breath was hot against her ear, his lips brushing against the shell as he spoke. “So beautiful.”

Y/N shivered, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she tried to steady herself. But Lando didn’t let her stay still for long. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as his hands roamed her body with possessive intent. One hand slid up her side, cupping her breast through the fabric of her shirt, while the other gripped her thigh.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her head falling back as his touch set her alight. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her body aching for more. “Lando…”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want me.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the sensation.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.” he whispered, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice breaking as she met his gaze. “Yes, I want you. I need you.”

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely more than a whisper. His gaze dropped to her lips, waiting for her response with a patience that suggested he’d give her all the time she needed—though his body pressed closer, demanding otherwise.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushed, her voice soft but firm. “Yes. I want you, Lando. Don’t stop.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, a teasing exploration that made her grip his shoulders harder. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more—needed more. Her lips parted, inviting him deeper, and he obliged, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers in a dance of desire.

God, he tasted incredible. Everything about him felt electric, from the way his his hand was gripping her thigh to the steady beat of his heart against her chest. She could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, pressing insistently against her thigh, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her at the realization.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her lips, his tone raw with longing. “So open, so ready for me.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, her nerves bubbling to the surface despite the growing heat between them. “Open? I’m not exactly in control here, Lando. You’re the one who put me on this counter.”

His eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly, his hand leaving her breast to cup her cheek. “And you love it, don’t you? Admit it. You love how much I want you.”

The words sent a thrill through her, making her heart race. She did love it—loved the way he looked at her, as though she were the only thing that mattered. Loved the way his touch turned her insides to liquid fire. “Maybe I do,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s grin was predatory, and he moved faster, his hands working her jeans down her legs with practiced efficiency. Y/N lifted her hips to help, her movements unsteady as she tried to balance while he stripped her bare. When she was free of the material, he knelt before her, his hands sliding up her thighs until they reached the fabric of her panties.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that made her knees weak.

She obeyed without hesitation, her legs parting as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them aside. The cool air hit her skin, and she gasped, her arousal already slick and evident. Lando’s eyes locked onto the sight, his pupils dilating as he drank in every detail.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. “You’re perfect.”

Before she could respond, his mouth descended on her, and the world shattered into a thousand pieces. His tongue swirled around her clit in lazy circles, drawing out her pleasure with agonizing precision. Y/N threw her head back, gripping the edge of the counter for support as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.

“Lando,” she cried out, her voice breaking as his tongue stabbed deeper, hitting that sensitive spot inside her that made her toes curl. “Oh my god, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. If anything, he intensified his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly against her clit while his fingers probed at her entrance, teasing but not entering. It was pure torture, and Y/N loved every second of it. Her hips bucked against his face, desperate for release, but he held her steady, keeping her right on the edge.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice pleading. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice muffled against her core but still managing to convey the smug satisfaction of a man in complete control.

“You,” she gasped. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”

Lando pulled back, his eyes glittering with triumph as he stood and stepped closer. Y/N watched as he tugged off his shirt, revealing the smooth, lean muscles of his chest. Her hands itched to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, but she forced herself to wait, knowing he wouldn’t keep her waiting long.

Sure enough, he was removing his jeans in seconds, kicking them aside with a smirk. Y/N’s breath caught as he stepped between her legs, his erection straining against his boxers. He hovered there for a moment, letting the anticipation build before hooking his thumbs into the fabric and pushing them down.

“Look at you,” she breathed, her voice awestruck as she took in the full length of him. “You’re… incredible.”

Lando chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “Only incredible?” he teased, reaching for the condom he’d placed on the counter earlier.

As he rolled it on, Y/N bit her lip, her nerves surging once more. This was it—finally, after weeks of tension and teasing, they were going to cross that line. And honestly? She couldn’t wait.

Lando must have sensed her eagerness because he positioned himself at her entrance without further delay. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for any trace of hesitation, but all he found was hunger. With a groan, he thrust forward, filling her in one smooth motion.

Y/N cried out, her back arching as the sensation overwhelmed her. It had been so long since she’d felt like this—so full, so wanted. Lando kissed her then, swallowing her gasp of pleasure as he began to move, withdrawing slowly before plunging back in with increasing urgency.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled against her lips, his thrusts growing rougher as he sought to claim her completely. “You feel so good. So tight around me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she clung to him. Every stroke of his hips against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through her body, and she could feel the telltale tingling in her lower belly signaling her approaching orgasm.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m close. So close.”

He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside her with ruthless precision. Y/N’s vision blurred as her climax shattered through her, her entire body tensing as she screamed his name. Lando followed soon after, his thrusts stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, his head falling to her shoulder as he panted for breath.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at how perfect everything felt—how right.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rattle of a pot handle swaying in the breeze from the open window. The air was thick with the scent of garlic and rosemary, but beneath it all lingered something sweeter—something undeniably intimate.

Y/N lay sprawled across the counter, her legs still wrapped around Lando’s waist, though he had shifted to rest his weight on his elbows beside her. His chest rose and fell heavily, his skin glistening with sweat, while she traced lazy patterns over his back, savoring the warmth of his body against hers. Their breaths mingled, slow and steady now, as if they were both reluctant to break the spell that had just passed between them.

“That…” Lando began, his voice low and rough, “was incredible.”

She laughed softly, a sound that was tinged with disbelief. “You don’t have to say that.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t have to, but I want to. You feel amazing, Y/N. You always do.”

Her cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

He grinned, that familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Only when I’m with you.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Instead, her fingers found their way to his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his stubble. “Lando…”

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Yeah?”

“What even is this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Between us, I mean.”

His grin faded, replaced by a look of genuine consideration. “What do you want it to be?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. What did she want? She wanted to say everything, to demand he commit to her fully, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she settled for honesty. “I don’t know. But right now… it feels like something.”

Lando nodded slowly, his expression softening. “It does. And I think… I think maybe we should figure it out together.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice confident yet gentle. “I like being with you, Y/N. A lot. And I don’t want to stop. Not unless you tell me to.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to ask him what he meant, to press him for more details, but another part of her—the stronger part—just wanted to let it go. To live in this moment and trust that whatever came next would unfold naturally.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lando’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Okay.”

They fell silent again, the tension between them shifting from sexual to something deeper, something almost sacred. Y/N felt his hand slide down her side, coming to rest on her thigh, and she shivered at the gentle touch.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his tone laced with awe.

She shook her head, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “No, I’m not. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly,” he said firmly. “And that’s all I need. Just you.”

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, afraid that if she met his gaze, she might burst into tears. Stop it, she scolded herself silently. Don’t ruin this.

“Hey,” Lando said gently, tipping her chin up until their eyes met. “Don’t hide from me, okay? Not now. Not ever.”

“I’m not hiding,” she lied, her voice cracking slightly.

He sighed, clearly unconvinced. “You are. And that’s okay. I get it. Trust me, I do. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. So you can take your time. Just… don’t push me away.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she nodded slowly. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, his smile returning. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft and lingering, a contrast to the intensity of their previous encounter. It was tender, affectionate, and it left her breathless in a completely different way.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. She glanced around the kitchen, noting the dishes they had abandoned earlier and the flour dusting the counter where they had worked side by side.

“We never finished our dessert ,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Lando chuckled, following her gaze. “I guess not. But honestly, I’m not sure I could eat anything after that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “But we should probably clean up before someone walks in and thinks we’ve gone completely insane.”

He smirked, reaching for a towel. “Insane? Nah. We’re just having a good time.”

She shot him a playful glare. “Right. Because setting the kitchen on fire would be totally normal.”

“Hey, I didn’t set anything on fire,” he protested, draping the towel over his shoulder. “You’re the one who got distracted.”

“Distracted?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. “Lando, you literally pressed me against the counter and—”

He cut her off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, fair point. My bad.”

As they cleaned up and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, the banter continued, though now softer and less charged with the heightened energy that had fueled their earlier interactions. There was a new layer to their connection, one that made Y/N feel incredibly seen and understood in ways she hadn’t expected.

When the last dish was put away, Lando turned to her, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her close. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “Now… we see where this goes. Together.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Sounds perfect.”

As his lips descended to meet hers once more, Y/N felt her resolve strengthen. Whatever came next, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t ready to walk away from this. Not yet.

[thylacines-toybox]

Rating various small thylacines on how well they fit as a joey in Artemisia's pouch

If you have recently acquired a Charlie Bears Pathfinder yourself, you'll have noticed their fairly spacious pouch! Wondering if there are any littler thylacines out there that are a good fit? Wonder no more!

(Although uh, good luck finding some of them for sale...)

First: yes, the pouch opens at the back and it looks a bit funny! That's an accurate thylacine pouch! It's actually a fairly normal way round for a marsupial pouch to be, when it's not on a bipedal kangaroo.

That said... there are a lot of photos of a plush thylacine's rear end in here. You may 'teehee' a little bit, but be decent!

Joeys will be placed in the pouch head first when possible, with their backs down and their feet up, as they are usually depicted riding in there.

Chicory (Bocchetta mini): 7/10

A decent size! A bit of a squash to get them in there, their hips are a bit wide especially, but once they're in their tail sticks out pretty cutely. Maybe with a little stuffing removed this would be even better!

Also, of all the thylacines on this list, this one is the easiest to obtain for sure.

Celery (a different Bocchetta mini, either an older style or the keyring version without the keyring...): 9/10

Squishier, thinner and more flexible than Chicory, so fits in really well! A very good joey!

Though... One thing with the Bocchettas is that their muzzles are so stubby, and they look quite out of place next to Artemisia's snooty snoot...

Dill (Paradise Ark mini): 6/10

Not too bad, but his legs are kinda tall and sturdy and it's a bit hard to get the back ones in. It's like he's kicking poor Artem in the stomach.

Wooden thylacine (NOM Handcrafted): 1/10

Technically fits in fine but uh... Ouch???

Purslane (it's a coin purse... by Tasile): 4/10

Pretty easy to fit in there at least since it's mostly unstuffed aside from the head, but too silly to be a joey... It has straps on the back, that's not very joeylike. Doesn't even have a tail to poke out cutely!

(Also I have literally never seen another of these before, so not very accessible...)

Felted finger puppet from EverestPetsSupply on Etsy: 5/10

Also a bit too silly although it fits well. Gains an extra point for the lack of straps and for the funny little pawsies looking extra cute there, but still no tail!

... Since it's got the finger puppet hole, does that technically count as a pouch too?? If only I had a micro thylacine to fit in there lol. Nested thylas.

Now for some I made myself...

Saffron (old tiny version of the ones I sell): 5/10

Though small, he was actually a bit tricky to fit in there because he's pretty solidly stuffed with beans... Not very squishy. Alright once he's in place though.

Also, the bright colours do not match Artem's realism at all. Not related, you can't fool me.

Nettle (modded bashful Jellycat): 1/10

Wh... no! Don't be silly! That's clearly not going to work! Sleeping bag???

You look like you need a pillow.

There we go. Now get outta there...

Nutmeg and Paprika: 5/10 or 9/10

They can be twins! Thylacines were actually meant to have more than one joey at a time, so that's cool! However, fitting more than one in at a time is definitely a struggle... Might be time to start leaving these ones in the den, Artem...

One at a time they fit very well! Much squishier than Saffron was.

Clove (Cinnamon's joey): 0/10

Hey! That's someone else's baby, put that back! Far too small, completely the wrong scale. Fits great in Cinnamon's pouch instead where she belongs.

Artem's actual joey who isn't named yet: 10000/10

Perfect joey, fits in there easily but doesn't fall out, is exactly where they should be!! Not actually visible from the outside when in place because they're not old enough and just soooo snug in there.

Ok actually -1 point because sometimes the little magnetic dummy falls off in there lol. Otherwise perfect babby.

[vibewithma]

Man of God

Modern Sinners Au!

Preacher Boy/Sammie x Black Church Girl!Reader

Friday rolled in slow and warm, sun slipping through the trees like it had nowhere in particular to be. You had your music low and your windows cracked as you drove Pops into the city. He gave directions the whole time like you ain’t been driving him.

“Take this left here nah, this one,” he muttered, hand waving out the window like it was guiding the car itself.

You smiled, biting your tongue. “Yes sir.”

You let him out at his old friend’s house, watched him do that slow shuffle up the walkway before turning to Doris in the passenger seat. She had her handbag clutched like it held secrets and prayers, lips pursed in anticipation.

“You ready, Granny?”

She smirked. “I was born ready.”

Next stop: the shop.

Y’all strolled through the aisles like it was a military operation Doris on a mission, you just trying to keep up. Into the cart went elbow macaroni, blocks of sharp cheddar, buttermilk, bags of flour, pounds of catfish, whole chickens, pork chops, sage, celery, sweet potatoes, marshmallows and more.

You blinked at the growing mountain. “Granny…you feeding the church or hosting a revival?”

Doris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s called preparation, baby.”

“Granny, everybody knows you can cook. You don’t have to compete with Sister Lorraine—”

Doris stopped dead in the spice aisle, turned to you like she just heard blasphemy. “You think David wanted to fight Goliath?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

She tilted her head. “Sometimes God gives you the stones to prove the fool wrong.”

You stared and she tossed Old Bay in the cart like it was one of those stones.

What she didn’t say and what you didn’t notice was that somewhere between the yams and the sugar aisle, she’d slipped red food colouring and cream cheese frosting ingredients into the cart. You clocked it at the checkout too late.

“Granny…” you sighed, watching the cashier bag the cocoa powder. “You really brought cake stuff?”

Doris grinned, all teeth. “Your red velvet could raise the dead. I just want folks to remember it before that Lorraine woman’s banana pudding clouds their judgment.”

You groaned but smiled. Deep down, you kinda liked being part of her legacy mission.

As you loaded up the trunk, a familiar low laugh rolled across the lot.

“Miss Doris?”

You both turned. There stood two tall, broad shouldered young men in faded hoodies and gold chains Elijah and Elias Moore. Smoke and Stack.

Doris waved them over like they were kin.

“Well if it ain’t the troubled twins!” she called, grinning ear to ear.

They laughed, walking up like they’d been summoned by heaven and gossip.

“You still callin’ us that, Miss Doris?” Smoke asked, leaning in for a quick side hug.

“You ain’t grown outta it yet,” she quipped back, patting his back. “This is my granddaughter, Y/N.”

Stack gave you a glance over and smiled, dimples showing. “Heard a lot ‘bout you.”

“From who?” you asked, lifting a brow.

They both looked at each other and smirked.

“Our little cousin,” Smoke said.

“Talkin’ ‘bout you like you got wings,” Stack added.

Your stomach flipped. You already knew who they meant.

Sammie.

“Lord have mercy,” you mumbled under your breath, grabbing the last bag and shoving it in the trunk.

Doris chuckled. “Mmhm. Y’all behave now. I got food to beat people with love this Sunday.”

“That’s a holy competition,” Stack said, tipping his chin at you.

You laughed, shook your head and slid into the driver’s seat while Doris said her goodbyes.

As you pulled off, you glanced in the rearview to see them still grinning and waving.

“You think they really troubled?” you asked.

Doris just said, “Baby, everybody troubled. Question is what are they doing with it?”

Back at home, the whole house buzzed like a beehive on sugar water.

Doris wasted no time putting everybody on assignment like it was the Last Supper and she was personally feeding Jesus and his disciples.

“Lenny!” she hollered from her recliner. “You head back to the city and get them fancy cutlery sets from the Dollar General the gold trim ones. Not the silver. Silver look cheap.”

Your dad sighed but grabbed his keys. “Yes ma’am…”

Your mama was already at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled, head tied, muttering ingredients like scripture.

“If I cut the onions now and leave the greens soaking overnight, we can be cookin’ by 2 a.m. sharp…”

Dawn was on the living room floor, wrangling Doris’s bob wig like it was trying to escape. “Granny, why it got so many pins in it?”

Doris peeked over her glasses. “That’s security, baby. That wig ain’t movin’ through praise and sweat.”

Dawn held it up to show you. “It’s been through war.”

You just laughed and kept bagging the groceries.

Then Dawn pulled out the aprons, fresh from her sewing machine, each with big bold letters on the front in gold glitter vinyl: Miss Doris Made It.

One for Granny. One for your mama. One for you. One for Dawn.

“Now we uniformed,” Doris said, nodding like this was an army.

Your job?

“Go pick up your Pops. And make sure he don’t stay out late talkin’ to them old fools.”

“Got it.”

Except… it didn’t go exactly like that.

You pulled up to the house and sure enough, there he was. Pops in a lawn chair with five other men, all in matching button downs and dad hats, drinks in hand, playing some version of dominoes meets poker you ain’t never seen before. They were yelling, laughing, slapping the table like kids who just got recess back.

You stepped up to him, hands on your hips. “Pops. Time to go.”

He looked up and smiled like he hadn’t heard a thing. “One more round.”

“Pops…”

“You can wait. Go sit in the car. We’ll be done soon.”

You narrowed your eyes but turned on your heel. “You better not be here past midnight or I’m tellin’ Granny you was out here drinkin’ ‘apple juice’.”

You slid into your car and leaned back with a sigh, phone in hand. You hit FaceTime and Dawn picked up immediately.

On screen, she was modeling Granny’s wig like it was couture.

“Girl,” you cackled, “why you look like you about to direct a funeral and star in the BET biopic about it?”

“Shut up,” she grinned, flipping the camera to show the apron. “But tell me this ain’t cute. Granny said she wanna debut it during offering.”

You were mid laugh when knock knock came soft on your window.

You screamed. Dawn screamed on FaceTime.

You turned.

And there he was.

Grinning like sin in sneakers Sammie, standing outside your car like he’d just strolled outta a dream and into your Friday night.

You unlocked the door with a sigh. “What in the left behind sequel are you doin’ here?”

He slid into the passenger seat smooth, settling in like he belonged there.

“You always this jumpy?” he asked, kicking his feet up just a little.

“You always sneakin’ up on girls like a villain in a Lifetime movie?”

He chuckled low, rubbing his palms together. “Nah. Only when they owe me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Owe you?”

“Mmhmm.” He leaned closer, eyes glintin’. “I still ain’t got my gas money kiss.”

You rolled your eyes but your smile gave you away. “You really gon’ keep bringin’ that up?”

He shrugged, relaxed and grinning. “If the Lord bring it to remembrance…”

You shook your head. “You play too much.”

“And you like it.”

Silence settled for a moment, soft and comfortable. The street was quiet, the cicadas hummin’, his cologne floating easy between you.

“You look real cute when you bossin’ folks around, by the way,” he added. “Saw you earlier, hand on your hip like a deacon’s wife.”

“You stalkin’ me now?”

“More like… admirin’ from afar.” His voice dropped a note lower. “A very appreciative afar.”

Your cheeks burned and you looked out the window, but you were smiling.

“Mmhm. You want a kiss that bad, Sammie?”

He bit his lip, leaned closer, voice warm as butter on cornbread. “I want whatever you feel like givin’ me.”

Right then, your phone buzzed again. Dawn still on FaceTime, mouth open and shooketh.

“I’m still here!!!” she whisper yelled. “I heard everything!”

Sammie just laughed and leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world.

Sammie leaned back in the seat, arms crossed behind his head like he had nowhere to be but right there, teasing you into sin.

On FaceTime, Dawn was staring at him like she was seeing a ghost in sneakers.

He raised a brow and smirked at the screen. “Hey Dawn. Heard you got yourself on house arrest”

“…Hey.” She blinked. “Boy. Not me.”

“I heard Miss Doris said you got one more ‘practice’ lie in you before she drag you by the ear to confession.”

Dawn sucked her teeth. “It was one time.”

“One too many.” He chuckled. “I’m prayin’ for your freedom, though.”

“You do that,” she snapped, but even she was trying not to laugh.

You cleared your throat and hit the end button real quick. “Bye, Dawn.”

“Wait, wait, wa—” click.

You turned and Sammie was watching you with a look that made your stomach do a backflip.

“What?” you asked, trying to act casual.

“You jealous?” he grinned, voice dipping low and mischievous.

You arched your brows. “Boy, what?”

“Got rid of her real fast.”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed. “She was bein’ loud. And rude.”

“Mmhmm.”

You shot him a look but he was already smirking again, turning the air into tension thick enough to cut.

It went quiet for a beat, but not awkward. Just slow, warm… charged.

“Can’t believe you still want that gas money kiss,” you murmured, shaking your head.

“Oh, I want it.” His voice was velvet. “But not ‘cause of the gas.”

“Oh?”

“I just like seein’ you flustered.”

“Flustered?” you scoffed, even as heat crept up your neck.

He leaned in, close enough to catch your breath.

“Yeah… right about now,” he murmured, and you realized he was only inches from your face.

Then his fingers gently touched your chin, tilting your head up not rough, not demanding. Just steady. Sure.

You blinked, breath hitching. He was so close now you could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the curve of that smug little smile.

You leaned in, just a little, barely.

And he grinned.

“Ain’t gon’ kiss you without consent,” he whispered, playful but sincere, voice dipped in reverence. “I’m still a man of God, baby.”

You froze, lips parted, caught somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

He pulled back like nothing happened.

“Be right back,” he said, already opening the door. “Gotta go fetch my uncle before y’all call search and rescue.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving the door swinging open behind him and your heart tap dancing like a gospel drummer.

You sat there in the driver’s seat, jaw dropped, breath stuck in your throat, heat creeping up your chest.

Man of God, huh?

Lord have mercy…

Taglist:

@cosmicautomatonshark @fanfictiononly4 @pinkpantheris @andthatsonmaryhadalillamb @sweetalittleselfish-honey @bleufu1 @fruitypatooties-blog

[blood-smiles]

I REALLY ADORE YOUR STORIES, IT UNIQUE AND FUN TO READD RAGGGRH delicious ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠), do you have any fun facts or side story about yuuto if you feel comfortable or have time to share? Love youu (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

THANK YOUUUU AUUUUUUG!! My heart is like bursting, I am so happy when people send me asks like AAAA!! I haven’t talked about my sweet mamasito in like EVER. 

YANDERE! NURSE HCS AND INFO UNDER CUT!

💊English is not his first language, he dislikes spelling, he just isn’t very good at it, so therefore he will avoid trying to write much in English!

💊He was actually the very first yandere oc I thought of making, I can’t actually remember his first design though!! This was my main idea board for him!

💊He is part of a family of 5 children, being the only boy in the family he has had to grown up only surrounded by women! All his sisters are girls!

💊His father passed away from unknown causes and his mother was left on her own with her children.

💊growing up around girls he has been exposed to more female knowledge than anyone, he knows an unnerving amount of things about menstrual cycles, it’s honestly a little bit too much.

💊Almost everyone in his family has some kind of career in nursing or medicine, 2 out of his 4 sisters are attending nursing school, the other two are in Japan taking care of his mother.

💊his mom approves of you.

💊Many of his more feminine qualities are because of his upbringing, many may criticize this but he really doesn’t have any fucks to give (TдT)

💊He has a lot of piercings, his mom did not approve nor did his sisters but he did that shit anyway, they don’t really care anymore but would rather have him take them out.

💊There are some that you can’t see unless you see him without clothes.. Ehem.

💊Has unbelievably pretty hands, if he was allowed to grow his nails longer they would be the envy of all tbh, has the perfect amount of veiny and bony to be just pretty.

💊Somehow has soft hands??? No skin care or anything, he works with bleach on the daily yet still has the most perfect skin you have EVER SEEN.

💊 The fact is really strange but he has no business being so damn tall??? Rumors say that his father was just slightly above average and the genes just blessed Yuuto in particular

💊Okay, it’s probably too late to say this but he has like a HUGE mommy kink, he may be more submissive but he will actually have a system reboot if he hears you gently calling him “mommy”.

💊Can hold his liquor extremely well, if you just keep drinking and drinking and getting drunk he is your guy to drive you back home. 

💊if he does somehow get drunk he is a cozy, silent type of drunk. The yap button gets turned off and he just kinda.. stares? And touches. A lot. He gets this cuteness aggression and just goes eerily silent while actually nuzzling you like a cat would, a very big cat.

💊Had a childhood plushie that was a pink bunny, he still has it and takes care of it like it’s actually a sacred item. The reason he cherishes it is because he somehow named it your name when he was a little kid, probably thinks it’s a god sent message. Puts it beside your little shrine.

💊Sleeps like a huge cat. A cat with a favorite toy. He hugs you in the most restricting way possible, like meaty thighs wrapped around your own legs and biceps locking your arms into place while he just snuggles into your hair.

💊If he was a fruit he would be a peach!

💊If he was any mythical creature I would say he is a kitsune or a drider. No questions asked. 

💊If you are a chronically ill person he immediately transforms into your own care taker and you won’t have to worry about medication or anything ever again.

💊Doesn’t matter if you are sick or not, he WILL make you drink disgusting smoothie blends, he claims it’s for your own good and will get mad and give you the silent treatment if you don’t drink the very last drop of celery and carrot juice. He will praise you and cradle you afterwards though.

💊If he was a Pokémon trainer he would have a blend of fairy types, psychic, poison and dark types. (You know well that his main Pokémon are a Sylveon and a sneasel.)

💊Is like *really* emotional towards you, like will cry if you scrape a knee and he wasn’t there to kiss your boo boo better.

💊Let me know if you want more!!!

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul lahote x reader

AN: another part :) thank you everyone for loving thirty two parts of this series ❤️

<<prev >>next

Your vision was blurry as you blinked awake. A small sack of weight settled on your chest as you remembered falling asleep on the couch.

The child was fast asleep on your chest, softly snoring away.

The blinking lights caught you by surprise as you carefully held them to you as you slowly sat up.

Paul was crouched as he was plugging in cords to the large Christmas tree that took up the living room.

“Whoa.” you whispered in awe as you looked at the decorated tree that was standing tall. He looked over his shoulder at you, just as the angel was in his hand.

“I would ask you to do the honors but..”

“It’s fine.” you chuckled quietly.

He turns and stuck it on the top without a trace of a problem.

Your kid loved being by the Christmas tree. The bright colors of the lights wrapped around the tree made them smile and want to play near it.

From time to time, they just stood near or in front of it. Watching the lights, even reaching out to touch it with curious hands. Pictures were cute to look back on.

You even printed them out with a photo printer. Scribbling on the back of pictures to document the date.

Paul held the small frame picture of the baby he liked. He sat on the edge of the bed and you stood close next to him as your arm was wrapped around his shoulder as you looked down at the picture as well.

“They’re so beautiful.” He speaks quietly.

“Like you.” You speak back tenderly.

“No. Like you.” He disagreed.

“No. Like us.”

The smell of cookies filled the home on Christmas Eve as Paul grinned as you slid the cookies off of the spatula and onto the plate.

You then watch wide eyed as he ate the entire plate of cookies, except one, and down the glass of milk in one sitting. You didn’t even finish the one cookie you had in your hand.

“Great. You left me with the celery.” you roll your eyes with a soft pout as you pick up the cookie he left.

“You prefer ranch or peanut butter?”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he thought his own joke was comedic.

Christmas day wasn’t filled with comrade. It was filled with ripped wrappers and sounds of joy. Charlie Brown’s Christmas in the background was watching as the ring that blinged at you, was being slid onto another finger on the same hand that sported your wedding band.

The handheld statue that you made with blood, sweat, and tears was stressful to hide for this day. Paul held it in his large hands as he chuckled in delight.

The flower was now preserved in another form. It would stay vivid forever as the statue was a replica of the relic flower that you gave him.

“How the fuck did you make this feel like real petals?”

You could only tickle with laughter as he nuzzled your neck.

You and Paul stood at the window of the light morning as the white snowflakes fell down. Your kid stared wide eyed as they watched the snow.

It was slow and peaceful. It seemed as if the world stopped as you and Paul helped your kid tear open their presents.

They didn’t pay attention to the new toys. Only the boxes.

“How about that?” Paul muttered as you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

Paul sat them in a big box. They laughed hard and squealed in delight as Paul pretended that they were in a rocket ship dodging the invisible asteroids.

Bella was lying down on the couch when you went to see her after the holidays. Jacob was in the kitchen making her something to eat.

“How are you feeling?” You ask as you allowed her to rest her legs in your lap. She wasn’t obviously showing yet.

“Okay. Just tired. I’ve been puking all morning.” She says as she sits up against a fluffed pillow.

“Definitely don’t miss that.” You replied. She smiles a bit.

“I wish you were going through this with me.” She says.

“Believe me. Paul is trying to make sure it happens.” You joked.

“Our kids could grow up to be best friends. We should name their names close to each other’s.”

“That would be adorable.”

Jacob comes in with a plate of eggs.

“I’m surprised you haven’t turned into a little egg yet, Bells.” He joked to her as he planted a kiss on the crown of her head. She groaned a bit as she hissed a shut up to him. You chortled at their behavior.

“It’s one of the only things where the smell or taste doesn’t make me nauseous.” She then tells you as she starts eating.

“Yeah. Coffee was gross with me. Oh, and I remember when Paul tried to cook me a steak. The smell was hor-ri-ble. I even forced myself to eat it cause he makes the best steak.”

“Bet it still went all back into the toilet.” Jacob says and you roll your eyes.

Spending more time at home, Paul seemed to be very relaxed. You told Charlie you will resume courtroom sketching in the future if the opportunity still stands. He told you it will be waiting for you whenever you were ready.

A feeling of security radiated from Paul and onto you as each day he came home from patrol with contentment.

You were always there.

The sight of blocks scattered, splattered food that stained the small bibs and the curious eyes of your kid, were what made you feel some type of ease. Knowing that you didn’t have to leave them behind felt like a relief.

It constantly felt warm in your spirit.

He pulled a warm cinnamon roll that you baked from the baking pan.

“Kiddo’s asleep.” You say as you wrap your arms around his waist. He hummed out a response as he chewed. You pressed your cheek to his arm back as you started to rub his chest as you enjoyed the smoothness of his skin on your hands.

“Hope you know what you’re doing.”

You chuckle as you pull away but he pulled you close.

He hugged you.

It was a hug that made you squeeze him back. It felt like hugging an oversized teddy bear.

“I love you so much.” you muffled in his chest as you breathed in his natural scent. Your arms were tight around him.

“I love you forever.” He kissed an open mouth kiss on your cheek, to your jaw, and to your sensitive neck. He shoved the rest of his treat into his mouth as you watch him. You couldn’t take his eyes off of him as you grip the island with one hand. Your heart raced at the shirtless sight of him.

His fluid movements were graceful, even as he opened the fridge to drink out of a carton.

“I turned down a trip.” You reveal.

It was true. Coincidentally, a fashion shoot was happening, it was creative and you liked the idea. You would’ve been gone for three days as they wanted you to sketch it for a magazine section for them.

“I don’t want you to think I’m holding you back.” he says as he shoots the empty carton into the trash with a smooth swish.

“I don’t think that.” You shake your head.

“Do you get where I’m coming from?”

“…Me traveling away, wouldn’t have been as bad had I made better decisions in the past.”

He looked off to the side before looking at you, “No. After a long ass day, this is what I want to come home to.” He gestured to the intimate setting in the kitchen.

“Okay.”

“It was so depressing when you would be away. You’re settled. Not all over the place. I’m settled. I’m not all over the place.”

“Sorry. But, hey. We get to do whatever we want here.” You point out.

He shakes his head as he looked at you. It wasn’t in disapproval or disappointment, it was as if he was making an observation in his head.

“Can I confess something?” He lets out.

“What?”

“I think…Never mind.”

“Please tell me. I hate that so much.” You chuckled.

“I think having our baby is the best thing that’s happened for us because…If we hadn’t done so, you would’ve eventually left me.”

“Not true. Come on, Paul. Why would you say that?”

“It’s true. That New York trip was the thing that almost tore us apart in the first place, Y/N.”

You sigh with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to hear it but fuck it. It’s true.”

“Well, it didn’t tear us apart.”

“After that, it was Italy. You were strong enough to leave Italy, come home early, because of that baby. Not for me.”

“It was for you.” You furrow your eyebrows. He deadpanned his expression.

“If it was for me, you would’ve told me sooner and you wouldn’t have kept me in the dark for so long. It took you to almost die. After it took you to be linked to Cullen.”

“You were on my mind too.”

“Couldn’t have. Cullen exposed you to a different lifestyle. He exposed you of what you could’ve had and plus some. He exposed you to what I can’t give you…I genuinely believe if things were different, you would choose him. I think deep down, you’re in denial about having to have had a smidgen of feelings for him..” He vented.

You listen as you knew in your heart that he just wanted to let it out. Let out his feelings without any interjections. He never got over what all happened.

It was silent for a moment before you speak again in a gentle tone.

“Good thing I’m not with Cullen. I would be unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. I like our life. I’m sorry about making the wrong decisions.” you say as you cleaned the high chair tray off.

“I want you to know that you’re good at this. Being here with us. You bring me peace and I just want to do the same for you if you would just let me.”

“I want you to know that I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Mittens snug on your hands, you bent down and reached into the hot oven. The snow was dried up and the weather was warmer as the new season began.

The small but personal cake was also hot as you set it on the stove to cool off. You slide off the mittens and put icing into the plastic icing bag.

By the time you were finished, the cake was cooled off and you put the icing on.

You stick one candle in it and Paul lights it with a lighter.

Both you and Paul walk towards the smiling child in their highchair as you both sing an off key but heartfelt happy birthday to them.

One entire rotation around the planet Earth.

You and Paul had to help them blow the candle out.

As you looked at their smeared face as they grabbed at the cake, your fingers continued to snap pictures at such scene.

You snapped pictures at the child trying to feed Paul cake. He was bent at the side as their small fingers pushed it into his mouth. He chewed and kissed their cheek as he told them thank you.

“Mommy, come get some cake.” Paul encouraged.

You bent at their side and the cake didn’t go to your mouth. They pushed it on your nose, missing your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut as you groaned, wiping off the cake from your face with napkins.

Paul continually clicked the camera while laughing heartily at you.

You and Paul decided to keep their first birthday intimate. Without the comrade, without the outside opinions, just you three.

“You’re so cute, it hurts.” you gush to the cooing baby as you put on a diaper from their bath time.

“Nice to know all of my hard work didn’t go to waste.” Paul says as he looked at the taken pictures you were looking through on the camera.

“Oh, shush.” you chuckled.

A stuffed silver wolf was in Paul’s large hand as he nuzzled it on their cheek. They smile largely as they take the wolf. They hold it and stare at it.

“It’s for you.” Paul cooed to them.

It looked very similar to his own wolf.

The child became very attached to it.

They were carrying it while Paul pushed the shopping cart. They sucked on their pacifier as you reach to grab a particular item from the shelf.

A guy, around your age, points at your shirt. His acknowledgment to fashion was evident as you could spot a pair of diy pants hugging his legs. He only says the brand. You smile and nod friendly at him to let him know he was spot on as if you two have known each other for a long time.

“God, seriously?” You playfully nudge to Paul after setting the item in the cart, sniggering at him as he was glaring at the guy walking away with a bag of tomatoes.

“He doesn’t even know you.”

“Yes. You’re right.”

Your kid was staring at Paul.

“You’re too friendly.” Paul shakes his head.

“You’re too mean.”

“Just like you’re supposed to.”

You held his hand.

The sun was shining more but Paul wasn’t. He was more irritated, more sharp. More possessive.

It was subtle. His hand would be at your hip, fingers resting at your neck. You brushed it off, feeling that his wolf wanted to be close. You could feel the wolf being overprotective of both you and the baby.

The door clattered shut as you walked with the kid sleeping with their head on your shoulder. You lie them down and Paul was right at your presence.

His darkened gaze followed you and you come out of the child’s room. He reached for you but you pretended it was a game as you dodge him. His eyes turned mischievous as he sauntered towards you.

You speed walk. You stumble forward a bit and hold onto the wall to balance yourself.

“Wow, that was embarrassing, I’m going to sleep.” you mutter sheepishly but he chuckled.

“No. Stay in the mood.” he says and takes over, lifting you to where he walks the rest of the way to the bedroom. He sets you to your feet before his large hands cupped your breasts underneath your shirt. He was hungry with the kiss that he was drowning you in with.

You try to move your lips from his to say something, but it was too late.

“Wait!-”

With a low grunt, your vintage runway shirt that you looked high and low online to buy at an unbeatable price, was ripped into shreds that you didn’t think were possible.

You gasp.

“Paul-”

You were cut off by a deep kiss. Your bare chest was pressed against his hot chest.

He drilled you hard into the bed. Your breathing was paused as you felt the deep tingling sensation overpower you. His hips dug and mushed into yours as you moaned in submission. Your head and upper body scoot back off the edge of the bed. Each rhythmic thrust had a heavy groan that came out of his mouth.

He keeps a firm grip on your legs as he keeps them open. You couldn’t feel your face as you were blinded by the light. He made three last but hard thrusts with loud grunts to match before he let loose of his load in you.

He pants and scoots you up a bit from hanging and lays carefully on you, never disconnecting from you.

You both ended up napping, connected.

“I should really punish you for ruining this.” you say. You tried to be mad but you just couldn’t.

“It’s just a shirt.” he nonchalantly says as the child was being held by him.

“Says the one who never wears one.” You sigh as you stuffed the ruined fabric in the trash.

“Oh, please. Don’t you start complaining now.” he smugly smiled.

Paul had left before you had woken up, you spent the day with the child.

At breakfast the next morning, your kid was very smiley to you. Your heart wouldn’t stop melting.

You even strapped them in the car and took them to a library.

You carried them on your hip as they had your necklace in their hand, in their mouth.

In the children’s section, you picked up books that were vivid as you encouraged them to look at it. They thought that the stuffed animal that they brought was more interesting.

“I guess no to this too.” you tease to them quietly as you pushed the book forward on the shelf.

You noticed that you felt weird. You knew where it was from.

When you came home, Paul was lounging on the couch. He perked up as he watched you set the sleeping child in their crib.

He smelled the metallic smell before you could even walk past him.

Shutting the bathroom door, you peak in your underwear.

You frown at your underwear before tugging them down.

The shower sprays on and the bathroom door opens and closes. Paul has your face cupped unto his hands. For the first time ever, you were sad that you hadn’t missed it.

“I came on.”

“That’s okay.” He replied before tugging his shorts down, immediately bare as the day he was born. An excited pit burst in your stomach.

“It seemed like the first time, it was easier for me to get knocked up.”

“It will happen, when the time is right.” He added.

“I guess.” You say as your face slightly winced. He entered the shower with you as he used his hands to run soap suds over your body.

You both wash each other. He tugged at your towel as you clutched to it in the bedroom.

He peered at your nervous face. He cupped your chin.

“Y/N, it’s me. Come on.” He gently encouraged. You nervously produce your own small smile.

“What? You’re scared?” He teased.

“Scared of what?” you try to be courageous but the shyness overshadowed it.

He chuckled softly as he brushed a thumb against your cheekbone.

“You gonna let me take care of you?”

You pause before you slowly nod.

On the bedroom floor, a beach towel was spread out. Paul took his time to rub against your aching center.

A shaky whine spilled from your lips as you felt his hot length slide right into you as he gripped your hips.

He slowly pumped in you to get you comfortable.

You were too comfortable. You felt your back arch deep as his strokes became deeper, more fluid. Your face scrunched up as an erotic moan of his name came out of your mouth as he sighed out how fucking good you felt.

He was kneeled on one knee as his hips snapped into you. The tingles and the stars felt suffocating.

“What are you doing to me?” You moaned out with your eyes squeezed shut. His deep but breathy chuckle that turned into a sensual groan, sent a chill down your spine. His hands glided up your back as you relax, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts. He groaned and closed his eyes at the sky. You sighed out as your legs were shaky, but you both felt so good. It really felt like heaven.

His hand gripped the nape of your neck to pull you up. His steady pumps had you wailing raspy as his hand then held the front of your throat to keep you to him, one hand held your hips as your back was pressed to his chest. Your neck bared in submission. His mouth feasted on your neck and even realigned his teeth to the teeth marks, slowly biting down as you felt his deep thrusts in your stomach. You shuddered and trembled uncontrollably as he never slowed down, overstimulated wasn’t enough of a word to describe what you were feeling.

The television flowed through an action movie that Paul put on. You watched it for the gun fights. Your back was lying against his side as his hand was down your pants, resting against your cramping pelvic area, soothing the menstrual cramps. He was your own heating pad as his body heat soothed your lower back as well.

Your phone vibrates on the table and you never make an effort to grab it.

Paul gently nudged you.

“Your mother is calling.”

“…I know.” you say in a dismissing tone.

“Don’t do that.”

“Did we not just have a healthy dose of her lovely words?” you lazily point out referring to the dinner.

“Yeah, she’s a judgmental mother but she at least…In her own little way..Is looking out for you. She’s showing you she cares…It’s something I wish I could have.”

You stare at the television as you go silent.

“Just see what she wants.”

“I’ll let her text me.” You say as you don’t make an effort to move.

Over a lunch outting, you look at your mother’s genuine face as she poked at her side dish.

“I wanted to apologize for the things that I have said. Especially the things about Paul."

"That…Means..A lot." you say to her surprisingly sincere apology.

"I really want you to be happy, Y/N.”

“And I am.” you encouraged.

“Now the thing that it sad, is those desolate curtains you have hanging in your living room which is why I’m here to save your house. I can’t apologize for that.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha.” you sarcastically laugh with a dry expression.

As you two picked out curtains, she tells you some news.

“Me and your father is thinking about relocating to Seattle.”

“..Oh.”

“We don’t need the house anymore. You’re moved out and we just want to downsize. Your dad is scoring big in Seattle and got a good opportunity. We’re going to see if we can put it on the market and so that we can move.”

“What about you know…The memories?”

“We make new ones. Memories will always remember us whether we remember them or not.”

Paul stood outside the child’s doorway, one shoulder pressed to the frame. He came home from Jacob’s garage, he wore his jacket but it wasn’t zipped. He watched with sharp eyes as you were curled on the floor beside your baby in a cozy robe.

You both stacked wooden blocks into a wobbly tower with the child babbled with excitement. You both ‘yay’ed’ and clapped each time a block was placed.

The child giggled free and sweet as you tickled their side.

Paul took a step forward and bent down to pick them up. It was like a record scratch as they sober up their laughter and stared at him with wide eyes.

The child’s mouth opened and whined. Paul’s face fell as his body stiffened. You stretch your arms out as they reach for you.

“Aw, baby.” You coo to them as they clutch onto you. They ease up their crying as you continued to carry them and walk them around a bit.

They wriggled deeper into your hold, their tiny fingers clutching to your robe. You rub their back after kissing their cheek.

They played in the living room as you hung the curtains up that your mother picked out. Stepping back, you crouch to your kid who was sitting on their butt looking up at you.

“You like it?” You cooed to them and they smiled.

Sticking your head in the bedroom, Paul was lounging on the bed, deep in thought. He still had his jacket on.

“Come see the curtains. They’re finally up.”

Silence.

You blinked as you walked slowly into the room, you peer at his figure that never reacted.

“Paul. Why are you ignoring me?” You asked patiently but carefully.

His face turned to you, it was deep with defiance, almost like a child’s.

“Fine.” You shrug and walk away but you don’t even get to take no more than two steps. His hot hand is on your wrist.

“They don’t love me anymore.”

“Who?” You ask.

“Our baby…Doesn’t even love me anymore.”

His eyes go to your mouth before saying with a scowl, “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not even laughing.” You say as he pulled you to mush your body next to him.

“You are.” He says and wipes a thumb on your lips and you’re smiling while shaking your head.

“You’re making me.” You say and push his hand away.

You then turn your head as he stares off. You briefly cup his face with one hand to make him look at you before letting go.

“Why are you saying that?” You asked gently.

“They’re up under you, now.”

You shrug, “So?”

“They’re not like that with me.”

“Crazy…And I thought you were the favorite.” You smiled a bit.

“Please.” He muttered.

“They love the little wolf you got them.” you point out as you smooth out his eyebrow with your thumb.

You held onto him. Even his wolf’s feelings were hurt. You open his jacket wide to showcase his chest to you kiss his heart.

“They’ll never stop loving their dad. Okay?” you whispered. His frown soften and you slowly smile as you cup his chin briefly.

Billy Black invited everyone over for a dinner. He made a spaghetti feast. Bella was craving it.

Paul watched as you smoothed out your outfit in the mirror as you got ready. Something that you’ve taken seriously with the extra time on your hands, you explored the art of fashion. It explained the increased online shopping.

“Meeting someone there?”

“Yeah, you.” You tell him as you apply a lip peptide tint across your lips.

Through bickering and as you raised your middle finger up at both Jacob and Quil for laughing teasing you about something, Billy greets someone at the door.

A man, a few years older than you, came over and both Jacob and Billy knew him. Jacob introduced Bella as his finance, it was a family friend, Billy was good friends with their dad. The man told Bella congratulations, pointing to the small bump that was forming on Bella and her hand.

You and Bella share a humorous look at each other as she adjusts her ring on her finger with her thumb.

Billy told Jacob to make the man and his father a to-go plate.

Your mouth was full of spaghetti as the man beamed his teeth at you.

“No, way.” he says to you. You point to yourself and he nods excitedly as he sticks out his hand. You shake it as you hurriedly chew and swallow.

Paul watched closely as he handed Angela the baby since she wanted to hold them and was sitting opposite to Paul.

“I’ve seen your stuff. You’re crazy with it, dude.”

“Oh. Thanks.” you relax into a smile.

“So what’s up? Any new artwork coming soon? It’s been quiet on your end.”

You chuckle and open your mouth to tell an answer but Paul butts in with his arm around the back of your chair.

“We’re trying to eat. Not talk about jobs.”

The man blinked at Paul as you held your breath.

“Just making conversation.” he says politely.

Paul leaned a bit with narrowed eyes, “Make it somewhere else.”

You turn to Paul and place a firm hold on his thigh as you quietly whispered as you tried to smile at him to take the attention off of the puzzled man, “Paul. Stop, please.” He looked at you but it didn’t seem to help because he now had his hand on the nape of your neck possessively, fingers pressing and caressing on the mark as he rested his hand there. Because of the nature of your bond, you felt the deep pit of excitement.

“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s nice to know that you know Billy and Jake. They’re good people.” the man tells you but he’s carefully trying to look at Paul in the eye. He’s on his way out of the door because Jacob already gave him the wrapped plates.

“You weren’t disrespectful. Thanks for the praise. I should have something done soon. Motherhood and the married life just keeps me busy is all.” you wave.

Leah stood across the room, watching the entire thing. The man leaves and she marches over to Paul glaring at him, “Seriously?”

“What?” Paul turns to her slowly.

“You really snapped over someone saying she’s talented. You’re unbelievable.”

“Mind…Your fucking business.” he says but she doesn’t back down. Her eyes turn ferocious.

“You don’t think we don’t see it? The way you hover over her? How nobody can’t talk to her? Your stupid wolf is acting like she’s property.” She points at how his grip on the nape of your neck was firmer, you didn’t realize the closeness of you and Paul’s bodies.

Your breath gets caught as he releases you and Paul’s fists clenched tightly it looked as if it hurt. You felt the wolf getting more and more fired up by her words.

“You tryna get down?” Paul stood up gracefully, the chair scraping back loudly. The excitement of feeling his wolf getting excited to fight almost scared you how nature it came.

“Oh, any day you want.” She snapped.

“Leah, no.” Seth begs.

“But not in front of your kid.” Leah shakes her head with a point at Paul.

People were watching the scene from the table. You felt embarrassed. You felt sorry for Bella’s worried face. Kim whispered in Angela’s ear and Billy took the baby from Angela’s lap and was trying to distract them, who were trying to fuss at the tension.

You grab Paul’s hand and tug it with sternness.

“Both of you stop. Paul, seriously. Chill.”

His chest heaved as he stormed out. You followed as you realized he never detached his hand from yours. You watch him as he paced outside. He panted as you felt his wolf scratch to the surface.

“Paul, please. You don’t have to act like that.”

“Why the fuck does everyone think you’re up for grabs, huh? You’re with me.”

“He complimented my work. Not me.” you inhale with patience and say calmly.

“Your work is you. It’s the same thing.” He gets close and points towards you.

“Oh my god. Is this who you are now?” you stared at him before you grab his finger gently move it away.

“You’ve changed too.” He jerks his head a bit.

You scoffed before turning and going back inside.

He never followed you in but you’re pulled into Jacob’s bedroom with Bella and Leah.

“You need to quit letting him bully you.” Leah starts in a hushed tone that was still dripping in fire.

“I’m not-”

“You are. You’re in denial.”

You looked away.

“It’s the wolf. Not him. I feel the wolf’s emotions and when he’s agitated. It’s not the man. I know how to deal with Paul.”

“It’s always been both. He has to control it. It’s all about balance, Y/N…Look I don’t know how long you want to keep pretending it’s normal.”

“You’re his partner. Just talk to him.” Bella offers as she subconsciously rubbed her belly.

You lied awake on your side as you felt the bed dip beside you.

A heavy hand was across your waist.

“I’m not in the mood.” you whispered.

Silence.

“Alright.”

You close your eyes and you felt his body shift a bit in bed. Next thing you know, you heard a low groan in his chest along with a soft beating sound. You slowly open your eyes back up.

Slowly, you turn over to find the sight of him lying on his back, slowly but rhythmically stroking himself. He turns his head to you and he catches you staring. He takes your hand and wraps it around himself continuing the rhythm. He groaned more comfortably.

As you stroke, he groaned with relief and puts both hands behind his head as he relaxed. You sit up and use both hands to stroke a steady rhythm as profanities spilled from his mouth. As you massaged his sack, he whispered lewd things you, warm liquid spilled over your hands as it spilled from the head of his flesh.

“I love you forever.” You whisper.

You actually saw his white teeth in the dark.

“I love you more.”

You and Paul both snarfed down bowls of cereal that next morning. The child squeezed the applesauce packet into their mouth.

Paul frowned as he held the baby that kept pushing him away. He tried to kiss them but they turned their head or leaned their head back. Even going as far as pushing his face with their small hand with a small fuss.

“Daddy has to go.” He tried to reason with their whining. He finally set them down and the child immediately cooed at you, wanting your attention.

They opened their drooling mouth, speaking in broken speech.

“Mommom.”

“Aw, you’re so cute.” you say to the baby as you pick them up. Paul sighed, he affectionately rubbed their head and they turn to look at him in your arms.

“See you two later, I guess.”

“Just calm down. They probably can feel your agitation.”

“I’m not agitated. You saying I’m agitated is going to make me agitated.” he says roughly. He gives you a sloppy kiss before heading out.

Days bled into one another.

Your kid continued to be clingy to you and you even took them with you to take a day in Seattle to where your mother invited you to see the place your parents had picked out, everything approved.

Your mother stood in the empty living room after an entire tour as you had the baby on your hip.

“What do you think?” She asks.

“It suits you two.” You say.

“We can make a day where we sort through the things that you want and don’t want. We’ll donate the things that you don’t want. I think I have stuff that you could give to the baby.”

“Cool.”

“I won’t buy any decor until you make me a painting.” She smiled.

You warmly chuckle, “Deal.”

She walked you to her car as you slowly strapped the kid in. You shut the car door and turn to your mom.

“Mom?”

“Yeah..?”

You stare at her. You wanted to ask advice but you felt it would give her legroom to judge. You decided to trust your instincts in dealing with marriage.

“I love you.” You just say.

“I love you too.”

Hearing the front door shut, you exit out of your kid’s room and enter the bathroom while locking the door. You sit on the toilet seat with the lid down as you try to think. A three rapid knocks rang out as you call out a, “Yes?”

“You alright?”

“Yes.”

“Open the door.”

You blink at him as your hand never left the door handle as you open it. He immediately tugged you to him, drowning you in a deep kiss and hug.

It turned sensual as a soft moan broke out from you, due to his talented mouth

“I made dinner.” You tell him breathlessly as he kisses your eyelid.

“I know.”

He says and you’re both walking backwards. A wall is pressed to your back. You’re sandwiched in by both Paul and the wall as he feasted on your neck.

“L-Later.” You shakily say through the violent tingles that made you want to forget your existence.

“They’re napping. I hear them snoring from here.”

You slip from his grasp because you at least wanted to turn the oven off.

Coming through the living room room from you leaving the kitchen, Paul scoops you as you let out a surprised laugh as he takes you both to the couch.

He planted kisses on you with the word please falling from his lips. You smile and tell him okay as you drop your own shorts.

He didn’t waste any time as he pulled your underwear, they rip off of you and it was a moment like this, you saw how strong you forgot he was.

He lifted up a bit and pulled his shorts down a bit, letting himself spring free and he relaxes. You lean forward since you were straddling him and keep him lip locked.

Without any buildup, Paul has you sinking onto him as he moved his hips and your body to bounce on him. Your moans were submissive but breathless with your eyes shut at the ceiling as you head was tilted back. Your hand is on his chest as you circled your hips.

Paul held your body close to him as he wanted to reach all of you, you were whispering oh gods as you heard knocks through Paul’s groans. He never stopped. You heard knocks again.

You push Paul’s shoulders to calm down his thrusts. They never stopped but they were slow as your voice was still breathless. Your hands were planted on his chest as he panted. You twitch as he watched your reaction.

“Were you expecting someone?” you ask, almost in a moan from the continued sensation.

You didn’t invite anyone over.

“Fuck no. Just let whoever, think we’re not home… Come here.” he suggested and lifts your shirt to look at the work he’s doing as he gently pulls his bottom lip into his mouth as he looks at the sight of you squirming against him.

A vibration on the coffee table sounded out as you then force yourself off of him and he groaned loudly in frustration.

You answer the phone and it was Paul’s father. You dress as you speak.

Paul pulls his shorts up and walks towards the door, he glanced at a reflection of himself. His erection was so poked out as if it was waiting for a hello. Paul shook his head to himself as you stifle a smile, he hides his front part of his body discreetly with the door as he lets his father in.

Paul’s father walks in and you give him something to drink as he sits on the recliner.

“Did you hear?” He says as he obviously knew something.

“What?” You ask.

“They found out who Embry’s father was…I knew it.” he drops who it was.

You look to the floor.

“Embry also got hurt pretty bad.” Paul released as he scratched the back of his neck.

“He is?” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“W-well, what happened?”

“He was chasing a leech. They tore him up pretty bad. We lost the trail but hopefully they won’t try to circle back here.”

“Yeah…Hopefully.” you whispered.

“You look faint.” he observed.

“It’s just…It’s happening again. The nomads, more patrols…”

“I know..It’s why I’m glad right now, I have you. I have our baby. Everything will be okay.”

You nod as he kissed your forehead.

You slowly sit down on the couch. The television clicked on.

Turning your head, Paul is staring at you as his dad was preoccupied.

“It’s happening.” you whispered.

“Y/N, you have to trust me when I say-”

“It’s happening so soon. We can’t be here in La Push.” you say as your voice was dripping with anxiousness.

He huffed before wetting his lips before looking at you again, “Okay….”

He gets up and you eye him carefully. He was deeply thinking.

"I don't care if you hate me. You're not to leave the house unless I’m with you."

"Great. Prison." you sarcastically mutter.

"Y/N. Stop it." He says with deep authority.

You quiet up and continue to watch him.

“You’re my everything. I’m not punishing you.”

“Okay…Sorry.” You whispered as you move towards the kitchen to fix both Paul and his dad a dinner plate.

Your baby had their toy in their mouth and the stuffed animal in their lap as you read them a book that was interactive. They cooed as you pointed at the different animals and named them carefully.

“Puppy.”

They liked saying it as everything you pointed, was puppy.

You chuckled as you correct them.

You were uploading your sketches onto your social media profile when you ended up seeing a post that was posted thirty minutes ago.

A dinner gathering at Kim’s house. She popped up as a suggestion since you didn’t follow her anymore but she tagged Angela and Emily in her pictures. Sam was there and so was their kid.

Peaceful energy only💫

You toss your phone down on the couch with a roll of your eyes, it bounced off of the sofa and Paul picks it up. Inspecting it for cracks that didn’t appear.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s childish.” you agree as you let it go with a shrug.

Sue Clearwater held a dinner.

Seth met somebody. He imprinted. First, before throwing a bonfire, Sue wanted to get his imprint comfortable with his family.

Leah invited you over. She claimed it was to get you out of the house. Paul was on patrol and you came over with your baby.

You left a note. You were with a pack member anyways.

Leah watched you. Your smile was soft but hallow at the girl as you introduce yourself. She was sweet and the same age as Seth and it was evident that she had a huge crush on him.

As you all ate and Leah was innocently embarrassing Seth like how a big sister should, you kept glancing at the door as if Paul was going to burst in any minute. You wish he was there.

Sue wiped the table as you were in the bathroom. Leah nudged her mother as she held your baby.

“He’s got her trained.”

“We don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors, Leah. That’s between them.” Her mother says.

You came out and you look out the window to see that the sun had dipped. Seth and his imprint was on the porch on a porch swing smiling and talking.

Leah was empty handed and you saw Sue now holding the baby cooing to them.

“Hey. Want a minute to breathe?” Leah asks.

“Sure.” you shrug.

You both walked on a trail behind her house in the woods. The birds chirped lightly.

Leah sparked a joint and offered a hit after blowing out hers. You turned it down. It’s been so long.

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay….You don’t act okay…You’ve gone quiet and Paul’s gotten loud.”

Your face dropped, “You don’t understand but that’s okay.”

“Then make me understand, Y/N. The hell is going on with you?”

“People want to input their opinions on us and we’re happy. I’m happy and I can feel him too. They say he’s controlling but it’s not like that. He’s just Paul.”

“..Is he hurting you?”

“No! God, Leah. You don’t listen to me.”

“Y/N, he needs to figure out how to control himself. He’s literally bullying you to think like this. You left the job that Charlie hooked you up with, you stopped taking on real projects…You’re losing yourself. You’re fucking Becky Homecky now.”

You shook your head, “You don’t know what it’s like!” Tears well up. Leah only looked at you, as if she was trying to figure out a math equation.

“To be this bonded to someone, like this, I feel his pain and anger, all of his emotions before he could even say a word. I just need him to be okay because if he’s not okay, I’m not.” You whispered the last words.

They both turn around and walk towards the house. The only sounds that were audible, were your soft sniffles and the sounds of your footsteps. Her footsteps were silent.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More Writing Notes: Cocktails

Traditionally, a cocktail (or a mixed drink) is a beverage that contains a mixture of alcoholic spirits combined with other ingredients, such as simple syrups, tonics, bitters, fruit juice, club soda, or other fizzy waters.

Today you can also find a variety of nonalcoholic spritz cocktails that combine alcohol-free spirits with mixer ingredients.

6 Mixology Tools

Bar spoon: long-handled spoon that makes it easy to stir drinks in tall glasses or pitchers.

Citrus juicer: extracts juice from citrus fruits and vegetables by shredding the flesh of the food item.

Cocktail glasses: there are several different shapes of cocktail glasses, and each corresponds to a different type of mixed drink.

Cocktail shaker: A shaker is a tall container (usually metal) that makes it easy for bartenders to shake crushed ice and cocktail ingredients together to quickly cool down the beverage.

Cocktail strainer: The strainer fits over the shaker and lets you pour the cocktail into the glass while leaving behind the ice and any other ingredients, like herbs, that you used to shake the cocktail.

Muddler: When a cocktail recipe includes directions to muddle ingredients, usually fruit or herbs, it means to smash them to release the essential oils and fruit pulp. A muddler is a small handheld rod that lets you easily muddle ingredients in a cocktail glass.

Some Popular Cocktails

Bloody Mary: This classic brunch cocktail contains vodka mixed with tomato juice, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, and a combination of herbs and spices. Bartenders typically serve a Bloody Mary in a tall glass, such as a pint glass or highball glass, and garnish with a celery stick.

Daiquiri: One of the classic rum cocktails, a daiquiri contains rum (white rum or Cuban rum), lime juice, and simple syrup. Today’s drink menus typically contain a variety of daiquiris that range from classic cocktails like the Hemingway Daiquiri (which contains lime juice, grapefruit juice, and Italian maraschino liqueur) to fruity cocktails like a shaken strawberry daiquiri.

Gimlet: Contains three ingredients: vodka (or gin), fresh lime juice, a splash of simple syrup for added sweetness, and an optional lime wedge for garnish.

Manhattan: Containing whiskey (or sometimes cognac), sweet vermouth, and a few dashes of bitters, the Manhattan is a simple yet elegant cocktail. The classic cocktail, which was invented in New York, is stirred, not shaken, and garnished with a maraschino cherry.

Margarita: There are several variations of margarita recipes. The classic margarita is served over ice cubes and contains lime juice, tequila (or mezcal), orange liqueur (such as Cointreau or triple sec), and lime and salt for the garnish. Experiment with other flavors—use lemon juice instead of lime, add a dash of agave syrup to sweeten the drink, or add a hint of spice with the addition of a few slices of jalapeño. For those who prefer fruit flavors, try making a watermelon, pomegranate, or strawberry margarita.

Martini: The classic martini is a boozy cocktail. The original contained three parts gin to one part vermouth with an olive or onion to garnish. A vodka martini calls for vodka in place of gin. Other drinks—such as an espresso martini, fruity drinks, or vodka cocktails like a cosmopolitan (often called a Cosmo), pear, or apple martini (also called an appletini)—are not considered martinis. Instead, they get their name from the cocktail glass.

Mint julep: Famous as the refreshing cocktail served at the Kentucky Derby horse racing events, a mint julep contains bourbon, simple syrup, and a muddle of mint. It’s typically served over crushed ice with a sprig of mint leaves.

Mojito: A highball cocktail with origins in Cuba, the mojito is a popular cocktail across the globe. Mix up white rum, sugar, mint, lime, and club soda (or soda water), and then add ice. The mojito is often called a perfect summer cocktail.

Moscow mule: Contrary to its name, the Moscow mule cocktail likely originated in New York, not the Russian capital. To make the fizzy drink combine vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice, and garnish with lime slices and sprigs of mint. It’s usually served in a copper mug, though food experts note the copper does not impact the flavor of the drink.

Negroni: With its balance of sweet and bitter, a classic Negroni is an ideal apéritif. Combine equal parts gin, Campari (or Aperol), and sweet vermouth. Shake them with ice and serve the drink with an orange twist. Other varieties of Negronis add additional layers of flavors using ingredients such as orange bitters, Champagne or prosecco, and a lime or lemon twist.

Piña colada: This favorite summer cocktail, which reportedly originated in San Juan, Puerto Rico, is traditionally made with white rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, and a squeeze of lime juice, and served with fresh pineapple for garnish. Blend the ingredients with ice cubes to create a slushie drink.

Tequila Sunrise: With only three ingredients, fresh orange juice, tequila, and grenadine syrup, the Tequila Sunrise tastes best when you use high-quality ingredients. White tequila is recommended for a fresher taste and a more vibrant color. You can make a variation of the cocktail called the Coconut Sunrise, which uses coconut rum instead of tequila.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food History

[ryllen]

tbh i love how incredibly calm & collected vil-senpai is

[sondheim-girly]

1/11 Soc Saturday quotes

“You’re an ompalompa at your school? What musical are you doing?” -Dan 

“I think the saddest part for me is when he’s a couch the whole time” -Dan about HP

“It happened on live, RJs illiterate” -Melody

“Can I be a dementor? I like that they can fly and suck souls” -SarahGrace

“It would be called… racist” -Tilly about Bevs Disney movie name

“You wanna know where my top is from? Give me a cowboy hat” -Jordan 

“I got my Dan Berrys on” -Josh Boone about his sunglasses

“I don’t know him, but I… like his face?” -SarahGrace

“They call me captain what?” -Renni “Captain loudass” -One of the dressers 

“I’m gonna be a very fosse, hot, cop” -Melody 

“I feel it in my bones” -Sky “Which bone” -Bart “You know which bone…” -Sky

“You proceeded to push up to failure like a psychopath” -Bart to Cole

“What’s your biggest tip for high school?” -Melody “Get out of there as fast as possible. Drop out of high school and move to New York” -Dan 

“Dan how tall are you?” -Melody “Tall enough to ride the rollercoasters” -Dan 

“Have you never changed into a dance belt and had your bare butt touch the butt of another man??” -Bart

“RJ looks like a stalk of celery” -Melody

“I would say RJ is a soprano, and I’m a tenor” -Dan

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Femslash February Day 3! Mountain wingmanning at a lesbian bar (his greenhouse) (Sfw!)

Ok look, I don't know how many consecutive days of writing and posting I have in me. But I'm going to try my hardest to get so much Femslash out this month. I'm not following any set prompt or challenge list. Just my heart. And my pu-

"I need help." Mist says. 

Mountain sets down his carefully trimmed bonsai and looks at her over the rim of his glasses. She's fresh from the lake, with clothes sopping wet from being tugged on right away. Her fingers twist around a tarnished old pendant (skull, eyes set with emeralds). And, most intriguingly, the barest hint of a blush on the apples of her cheeks.

(And slung over her shoulders what is quite possibly the largest pike he's ever seen in an impressive display of prowess but that is neither here nor there. She's not asking for help with the fish.)

"I understand." Mountain replies, having seen that same look on Aether after he met Dew. 

"There was an Air sunning herself on the dock," Mist says. "I've seen her around but I don't know her name."

“What did she look like?” He asks patiently. Cirrus had a fondness for hellebore and datura, but she was usually practicing keyboard with Zephyr this time of day. He glances at a pot of white lilies and nods to himself, even before Mist tells him.

“Big.” Mist says. “Big body, big poofy hair, big sunglasses. I think I splashed her when I jumped out of the water.”

It's the most flustered he’s ever seen her, the way she paces back and forth, trailing her hand in a tub of water lilies.

"I had the fish. In my mouth. When I jumped up on the dock. And I scared her. And I didn't apologize cause my mouth was full of fish. I just walked away and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary."

“Joe cool.” He says suavely and earns a flat glare. He meets it with his own carefully blank face until Mist rolls her eyes and flicks water at him.

“I know her.” He says as an olive branch. “Cumulus. She'll be a backing vocalist and keyboardist on our next tour. Real sweet.”

“Is she the type to be bothered by how I acted?” Is Mist’s next question and Mountain thinks about it. Plenty of ghouls became “domesticated” once they were up top, vastly preferring the convenience of Abbey kitchens and a set menu to a more traditionalist approach like Mist enjoys taking.  From what he's seen, Cumulus had adored the luxuries of the Topside like bubble baths and ice cream. But she still politely asked to have raw meat whenever she ate in the cafeteria. She enjoyed organs and eyeballs, cutting daintily into her meal and chewing methodically before swallowing.

He spares a glance at the pike. It's a decent size, almost as tall as Mist’s scant five feet and from the looks of it, hadn't gone down without a fight. It might be good sliced into fillets with lemon pepper and celery salt. He doesn't think Cumulus has tried raw fish yet.

“You’ll be fine.” He says. “So. Let’s start with the focus of the bouquet.”

“Don’t you start with that flower language.” Mist warns him. “I think it’s ridiculous. I just want something pretty for her to look at without any second meanings for her to guess. I don’t like codes.”

“Alright.” Mountain says, humoring her. “So, lets just start with flowers that remind you of her. Take a look at what calls you.”

Mist beelines for the lilies and Mountain smiles to himself. Mist isn't the type to be sentimental and he hardly expects her to verbalize her thought process. It would be more practical than poetic anyway because that's just how she was. He just guesses and watches and waits while she goes from flower to flower, brow furrowed in thought. 

“I like these.” She says about a pot of bullthistle he’s been nurturing from seed. It's on it's second year and growing tall, fine shoots that promise to bear nasty, thorny leaves. He's got an idea about how the species might be used to strengthen the borders of the abbey but he's worried about how fast it spreads. So it sits, with its purple crowns atop tiny thorny heads. 

“Thank you.” Mountain says. “For the bouquet or just to admire?”

“Just to admire.” Mist admits. Shifting her weight to still keep ahold of the pike, she thrusts her bouquet before him for inspection. Dominated by the lilies, she's added sprigs of lavender and fat peonies. Ferns have been tucked here and there to break up the flowers and Mountain gives her a silent thumbs up. There's no doubt Cumulus will love it.

"Thank you." Mist says gratefully. “I…I really appreciate it, Mountain.”

“Go get’em tiger.” He says as she nods to herself and heads out to find her girl, toting a gorgeous bouquet and her freshly slaughtered kill.

And no sooner do her footsteps fade when Mountain picks up another pair heading to the back of the greenhouse.

"I'm sorry." He says to the bonsai. "We're just doomed to always have interruptions in our alone time, it would seem."

The bonsai forgives him. It was a patient tree. It could wait a little longer.

"Mountain?" Comes Cumulus' frantic voice. "Mountain, you have to help me."

She bursts into the greenhouse, a gorgeous mess of floppy curls and chiffon as she presses her hands to her rosy cheeks. Her sunglasses are askew, her hat is about to fall off and he's never seen her so far from neatly put-together in her entire time with them.

"There was a water Ghoulette." She begins softly. "Caught the biggest fish I've ever seen. So stoic! Such a huntress!  Mountain, I think I'm in love."

"I understand." He says soothingly. "Why don't you take a look at those water lilies while I grab some thistle? Wouldn't want you hurting your hands."

[fallenclan]

with those heights being said, how tall are goldenmorning and their kids together?

Morningbloom was also pretty tall (though not very bulky, built like a celery stick) so they were a pretty tall family! Goldenstar > Maplestar > Applebranch > Morningbloom > Honeygleam

Honey was just a teeny bit shorter than Morninbloom (not that he ever knew it), probably got it from one of his grandparents on Morning's side :)

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ Part 1

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine.

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… (I had to write something sweet for my mental health y'all 😆) Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮

You are the very archetype of The Girl Next Door. Well, literally. John Constantine lives in 202, and you in 204. You share a wall, and occasionally, he sort of smiles at you when you meet in the hall.

Like tonight, as your arms are full of groceries, returning home after work. You don’t know what he does exactly, but you assume it’s the same for him, though he is only clutching a brown bag that very poorly disguises a bottle of scotch.

“Hi, John,” you say brightly over a proud sprig of celery sticking out of your bag. It’s almost a running joke between the two of you, your sunny brightness aimed at him like a weapon.

There’s a long pause, like always, before he finally answers reluctantly in his deep monotone, “Hi, y/n. Bye, y/n.”

Before you can engage him any further he disappears into his apartment, closing the door hard behind him, the slam in the air like an exclamation point. You stare for a moment at the space where he’d just been, tall, handsome, his suit rumpled, that tie half undone around his neck. He looked like he’d had a rough day, whatever he does.

He dresses like a professional something, but imagining that man as a door to door salesman with his attitude is laughable, and so is the thought of him working amicably in an office setting.

You go inside and put away your groceries, then spread out what you need to make dinner. It’s Friday night, and you’ve had a long week too. You are making comfort food—it’s kind of a shame to eat it alone.

Half an hour later, while the sauce simmers, you find you just can’t stop thinking about that man next door. He seems lonely, every time you see him. There is something about him that just makes you want to wrap him up in a hug.

He’d probably push you off if you tried, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a hug.

The thing is…you have this thing. He pretends like you annoy him, but sometimes in the hall, or down in the lobby when you’re collecting your mail, you catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking. And the look on his face is never exactly lecherous, like you’re used to with most men who eye-fuck you on the street. His look is more…just…lost, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

You’re sure he’ll say no, but your feet seem to carry you of their own accord, when you find yourself at his door, knocking loudly.

Some time passes and you hear him grumbling on the other side before he jerks open the portal just a crack. “Yeah?”

“I’m making my Nonna’s meatballs and marinara for dinner.”

“Good for you?”

“From scratch.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“Want to join me?”

There is a very long pause, in which he just looks at you. You can tell he’s at least one drink in already; you smell the fumes on his breath. And maybe it’s stupid, and you’re asking for trouble you don’t need, but the thought that that will be this man’s only dinner squeezes your heart.

Finally, he answers with a question. “Why?”

“Why not?”

This, amusingly, seems to actually flummox him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. In the end he narrows his eyes at you, (those lovely brown eyes, you can’t help but notice), like you’re trying to trick him into something truly heinous.

It’s…kind of funny, truth be told, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. “Come on. I know you can smell it.” Your door is wide open.

“Maybe I don’t like Italian food.”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“Maybe you’re a terrible cook.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He actually growls a little, which for some reason gives you a thrill to the base of your spine.  

You really need to get back to stir the sauce. You didn’t anticipate getting this far in the conversation (argument?) with him, honestly.

“Well, door’s open,” you tell him, turning to go. You throw one last little come-hither look over your shoulder, to find he is definitely staring at your ass. Or, glaring, more like.

Maybe you have a screw loose, but you find this adorable.

You go back to your sauce, and lose yourself in the preparation of the other ingredients, watching the pasta to make sure it doesn’t boil over, checking that the meatballs aren’t burning. (Your oven is a dinosaur from the 1970s, and sometimes the temp spikes for no reason).

You are about to drain the pasta, when you find a tall, rumpled man standing beside your rickety thrift store table, looking a bit confused as to how he’d ended up there. He looks so big in your shoebox of an apartment, and if you’re being honest, maybe there’s a little bit of lust tied up with your desire to mother this man.

You offer him a welcoming smile, and for a moment, you swear he looks like he’s drowning.

“Glad you could make it,” you say somewhat teasingly.

“Can I…help?” He says the last word like it’s a completely alien thing to him.

“I’ve pretty much got it under control…” you say, which is mostly true. You peruse the sparse offerings of your 3 slot wine rack, picking a $6 bottle of Chilean red blend. “Want to open this?” The face he makes looking down at the decidedly weaker-than-whiskey beverage is almost comical, but he takes the corkscrew from you as you transfer the meal to serving bowls and put glasses of water on the table.

He removes his suit jacket at the table, rolling his sleeves up over muscular forearms that are, if you’re being honest, totally distracting. After you sit down you fill your plates, and the first few minutes of the meal goes by in semi-awkward silence.

Surprisingly, it’s John who speaks first. “This is really good,” he admits begrudgingly, and you utterly fail to damper your I-told-you-so smile.

“Thanks.”

You make halting small talk. You get the feeling he doesn’t chat much with anyone, of his own free will. When you ask him how his week was, his simple answer is, “Hell.”

You have no idea he’s being literal.

You ask him what he does, and he tells you he’s a sort of private detective, and he can’t really talk about it. He asks what you do, more to get the conversation off of him than anything. You let it go, for now, telling him that you’re a receptionist at an office building for a mega corporation downtown.

“Fitting,” he grumbles, you think because of your innate cheerfulness.

You feel the urge to tell him that half the time it’s just a thing you wear like armor—but you don’t know each other that well yet.

As you loosen up a little with food and more wine, he slowly asks more questions about you, where you’re from, what do you do in your free time, and maybe it’s stupid, but you feel like he’s actually kind of interested in your answers.

You enlist him to help you with the dishes, and as you stand together at the sink you bump him playfully with your hip. He peers down at you, his dark hair in his eyes. He is so tall, and there is a hint of a smile on his lips now. For him, it’s like a full-on toothy grin, and it doesn’t fail to quicken your heart in your chest.

Constantine can’t help but feel…puzzled, by you. Yes, you’re his cute neighbor, who teasingly likes to hail him in the hallway. And maybe he does look forward to the way your eyes sparkle, when he begrudgingly acknowledges you before retreating to the safety of the quiet solitude of his apartment. But you are so…nice. He can just tell, and he has no idea what a girl like you might want with a degenerate demon hunter like him. There are enough assholes in L.A. who would be happy to take you out. Why would you waste your time chasing him down?

And there is that smaller nagging voice in the back of his head. You are damned, and you don’t deserve her.

Fuck if it doesn’t make him want to touch you even more.

Later, he will look back on this as a moment of weakness. You, looking up at him with your big eyes, like you're old friends. You made him feel, for a fleeting moment, like he wasn't some doomed asshole with nothing to live for. Like he was an actual person. A man who could matter, to someone. Maybe even to you.

When you splash him with a flick of dishwater after he insults your favorite TV show he narrows his eyes down at you, and you get the fluttery feeling that he might like to eat you a moment before he cups your cheek in his big hand and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s everything you’d hoped for, even if you never actually expected it to really happen. Maybe the wine helped? Or maybe…he likes you? Luckily you get over your surprise, standing on tiptoe to meet him, looping your arms around his neck.

You yip with surprise when suddenly he lifts you to sit on the sink, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. “Was getting a crick in my neck…”

Your answering laugh is shaky at best. “Sorry.”

“Is this why you invited me over?”

“Sort of?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, waiting for further explanation. You reach up to toy with his collar, tracing the line of his loosened tie, totally distracted by the shape of his collarbone and what’s bared of his neck. This man has a jawline that looks like it was sculpted from stone. There’s no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., of course, but you’ve never met anyone quite like him. He doesn’t seem vain, an oddity in this town, but underneath his rumpled suit this man definitely has the physique of a movie star. You try not to dwell on how odd it is, that he would choose to spend his Friday night with you.

“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” you offer with a sly little smile.

However, his answering expression is nothing less than stern.

“I’m warning you now, sweetheart. I’m not boyfriend material, and I’m not going to be your project.”

Even if both of those things may have crossed your mind, your thoughts are too hazy with lust from his lips on yours. Maybe he’s a grouch…but he’s a great kisser.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He kisses you again, and you melt even more under his exacting touch. Those mitts for hands make you feel small, and you arch against him as they travel the ladder of your ribcage to your spine.

The wine was good, but you know you are mostly drunk on him.

Then he is lifting you again, like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the couch. You settle down into the worn vintage cushions and make-out like teenagers, all lips and teeth and pawing hands.

You’re the one who actually initiates something further, pulling off your shirt, and John blinks as he takes in the swathes of your bare skin. He glares at your lacy bra like it owes him money, and you can’t help but laugh breathily. You haven’t felt thishappy in a long time, truth be told.

“Something funny?” he asks, nipping at your neck. With a flick of his fingers your bra falls away, and your breasts are in his hands, and you forget how to speak intelligibly. With his lips on your nipples you manage to loosen his tie without strangling him, unbuttoning his shirt with an increasing desperation. You sigh when at last the bare skin of your torsos is pressed together, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

It occurs to you, how small your couch is, and this man is definitely over six feet tall. “Would you prefer…the bed?” you ask between kisses.

“Up to you.”

You nod, but find you can’t really stop kissing him long enough to move. You can feel the impressive length of him through his pants and yours, aligned with your center and you dry grind, thinking even that is wonderful. He, however, lets out a frustrated growl, and pulls you to your feet again.

Dizzy with desire, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom, and you make it there eventually between kisses and shedding the rest of your clothing. His thick fingers between your legs are a marvel. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, and it’s too embarrassing to admit, but sometimes after seeing him in the hallway you’ve fantasized about something like this going down, and it always leaves you soaked.

“I…like you,” you admit, moaning as a second finger finds its way inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

“I still don’t get that,” he admits, but kisses you hard before you really have a chance to answer. It would be a little too crazy, to tell him right now that you’ve always just felt pulled towards him, like the Universe was giving you a nudge any time you saw him. He’d laugh at you, or he’d leave, and either of those at this point would be unbearable.

You are close already under his masterful touch, and you whine even as you flex your hips, all your muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Don’t make me cum yet,” you beg. “I want you.”

He groans in response to that, desperately pawing through the pockets of his pants on the floor for a condom. You watch with stars in your eyes, propped on your elbows as he rips open the packet and rolls it on that impressive length, your lip between your teeth. You feel empty while looking at him like this, longing to be filled to the brim.

There is a moment of raw eye contact between you that sears your soul, as he pulls you to the edge of the bed with those large hands on your thighs. For a fleeting second he looks almost vulnerable. It’s there and gone like a ripple in a pool, then his thick tip is at your entrance, and he is slowly pushing himself inside you.

It’s better than you ever dreamed, and you arch against him, moaning as he works inside.

“Fuck you are tight,” he pants in your ear, your walls clenching around him, seeming to fight him even as they crave the relief of his big cock stretching you out. You breathe deeply, easing him in. When at last he bottoms out inside you, your head rocks back behind your shoulders, blissed out.

“God, you feel good.”

This man actually snorts at the comment, though his voice is pure gravel, rough with need. “He wouldn't appreciate you saying it about me.”

Your laugh is half moan. 

“What, are you on a first name basis?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you're too cock drunk to even begin to reason it out.

He can tell you're a nice girl. Or at least, that's his perception of you. So he doesn’t bend you at impossible angles or whisper filthy things in your ear. Really, there's no time for it. Just pure vanilla missionary in your sweet little snatch is more than enough to slake his need tonight. He fucks you on your back, his thumb on your clit as he glides in and out of your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips.

Your pleasure builds in the cradle of your hips, wound so tight you feel like you'll either die, or fly. Usually...alright, it's never like this for you the first time with someone. There's always fumbling, and awkwardness, and half the time, if you're honest, a faked orgasm because you're too shy or too embarrassed to ask for what you really need from a new partner, afraid he’ll think you’re too much trouble. 

Well, that is not what is happening tonight. Tonight, John is taking care of you, and you can hardly believe your luck. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yeah.” Your reply is breathy, and you almost laugh just for the pure, unexpected joy you feel in that moment. “Oh, John...” Your ability to say real words escapes you as your body erupts with scintillating pleasure spreading through your loins. You actually scream, and the fierce clench of your cunt around him brings him too. He loses himself with a groan, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he shudders against you.

Afterwards, you are laying against his broad chest, his heartbeat a steady drum in your ear. You don't know it, but this is not something John Constantine usually does. Snuggling. But you are sweet and soft in his arms, and he can't quite bring himself to vacate the premises just yet. In fact, he's so comfortable that he dozes, and you follow close behind him.

In the middle of the night you wake to kisses on your neck and caresses down your curvy side. You sigh, arching into him. You feel his manhood at the seam of your buttocks, his thick head kissing your hole.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers with a shuddering sigh, rolling over to reach for his pants again. How many condoms did he bring? The fact that he's not careless with you, even in the sleepy haze of the early morning second round, is incredibly endearing to you. How many times have you had to insist, and been made to feel like an uncool bitch for not wanting to risk pregnancy or disease in the heat of the moment?

Maybe it's utterly insane, but you're half in love already as he hauls you on top of him, his cock freshly capped with a new Trojan Magnum.

You are still drenched from earlier, and it's no problem to impale yourself upon him.

In the blue dark of early morning your eyes meet his, and again you sense that fleeting vulnerability before he distracts you with that clever fucking thumb finding your sensitive bud. He works you just right as you ride his beautiful dick with your back arched taut as a bow, his other hand toying with your nipple. It makes you cum in record time, so quickly it's almost embarrassing, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Within a minute he's followed along with you, his big hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he reaches his own release. Your name on his lips raises gooseflesh all over your body, as though your lovemaking has invoked something powerful, something binding.

You collapse against his chest, and the both of you nearly fall asleep again, with him still inside you. 

“Let me get this thing off,” he requests gently, and with a plaintive little groan you roll off of him, curling in at his side. He knots the condom before throwing it in the general direction of the bin. You are both too tired to care if it actually hit home. 

Again, you snuggle close and the two of you doze tangled together until morning light streams through the window. 

You wake to kisses on your forehead this time. It's a miracle you rouse. You're a heavy sleeper—and he worked you out. 

“I have to go, honey.” 

“Want breakfast?” you murmur, half asleep.

“Yeah, but I can’t. Rain check?”

“Okay.”

Through half lidded eyes you watch as he gets dressed, half way, at least. A good portion of his clothes are still strewn around the living room.

My god, what a beautiful specimen of manhood you bagged last night. Nonna would be proud. She was an appreciator of male beauty, and if you told her that her special recipe had gotten you the best sex of your life with the handsome boy next door she would have cackled with delight.

“See you soon?” you dare ask as he buttons his pants. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, after a pause, bending down to kiss you one more time, with tongue this round. 

“Careful mister, or you'll start round three.”

“Jesus, woman,” he teases with that heartbreaking almost-smile. “You've drained me dry.” 

You look him over appraisingly.

“Doubt it.” 

He huffs with laughter, shaking his head. 

“Bye, y/n.”

You sigh. 

“Bye, John.”

With a surprisingly heavy heart, you watch the best lay of your life slip out the door. You really hope you'll get to do this again, and not just go back to awkward acknowledgements in the hallway.

***

Maybe John Constantine had told you he’s not boyfriend material.

But earlier that day, while he was having a smoke out on the sidewalk, he found himself looking over at the wares of a flower vendor and wondering if you would like them. He didn’t buy any, of course.

He wasn’t a total sap.

But it’s possible as he scales the stairs to his apartment, there’s a lightness in his heart as he thinks of you, and the possibility of seeing you in the hallway.

That's when he finds your door ajar, and your apartment ransacked, and a note in red ink on the table addressed to him.

If you want to see your girlfriend alive again, come to this address.

It’s a place in L.A. that’s deep in vampire territory, and something black and heavy weighs like a stone in the pit of John’s stomach. He’d deported a few big players of the local coven not too long ago, and he’d figured the Master would want revenge, but this?

Fucking diabolical—and just their style.

Goddamn vampires.

Without a moment to lose, he goes to his apartment to get his kit, praying he’s not too late to save you.  

[vagueeyes]

here's everything i wrote down for STAGE/FRIGHT - apr 5 matinee.

‼️ spoilers ahead ‼️

ok thank you AGAIN @somuchwatersoclosetohome for letting me tag along. i fully expect this to be a collab between us, so anything i couldn't get (both in terms of observations & references), please feel free to refer to her eventual post!!

the seat this time was in the stalls, so closer to the stage than where i was on mar 27!

a house divided/bcdr:

-seeing gaby french & mark extance come on as theatre attendants! on my first show i didn't recognise anybody other than r&s so now that i did know who's who, it was good to catch this.

-seeing the makeup tape close up was kind of funny lol

-during len's hat & coat routine, on first watch i was kind of just staring at reece (lol), but on this watch, from my angle i could only see len, so it was nice to be able to fully appreciate steve acting this part out!

-(crap now i can't remember if this comes first or the prev bit) during the vincent vomit sketch, i didn't realise tommy mouths along to vincent's lines! iirc they don't do this in the ep so that was a nice surprise!

-was able to watch the screen come down (sideways?) when len disappears - ty @wintersoulwitch for pointing that out!

-the leanne/tommy hug was quite 🥺 this time

the kidnappers:

-reveal of the guest: immediate reaction was - "this man is TALL". louis theroux is definitely someone i've heard of but not familiar with, so a lot of the references went over my head i'm afraid!

-once louis was revealed, he looks back and forth between len & tommy for a long time. when len gets louis to say what he's been in, reece (at this moment i saw him as reece tbh) just smiles at them while biting his index finger. what the hell was that!!

-for a while louis still had his hands behind his back, len reminds him that his hands have been untied 😂 louis & everyone had a good laugh at that

-he did well with the spanish and the trumpet playing actually!

-"it's onnnlyyy a stick of celerehhh!" this one was steve doing a big wave of his hand (the one that's holding the celery iirc?) while delivering the line lol

-at the end when louis bursts out of the wardrobe, the tirade was something like "i was on BBC2, around the same time as THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN. we would've seen each other in the canteen! i'm not a stage actor - i'm a television national treasure. i have 3 BAFTAs as well, i don't need this. my agent talked me into it."

-last line going up the stairs: "mark gatiss was the best one anyway" - len nods in agreement here. does he always do this whenever a guest namedrops mark?

interval:

-while i was queueing in the washroom, two ladies behind me were gushing about steve! one of them mentioned his puffer jacket(!!) and the other said "he's still got it" !!! cute to hear this chat irl lol

-at the 20mins mark, the theatre manager came to the front to announce that there was a technical issue and they were looking into it! definitely everybody thought this was a bit at first, but he assured us that it wasn't.

-he said fingers crossed for 10mins, but it went on for 1hr!!! we theorised that it was either the safety curtain not being able to come back up, or something to do with the video wall. then someone came out to chat to the people behind us, and she confirmed it was indeed the video wall not working.

-at the 1hr mark, the associate director came out to explain that they were going to carry on doing the show as is but that it was going to be "a bit different". which was actually quite exciting!

act ii:

scene started as is. at one point, @somuchwatersoclosetohome leaned over to say the video/screen in the background wasn't on, which i hadn't even noticed tbh! so here's what was missing:

-when goudron explains how he killed his wife, we don't see this happen - we only get the sound effect

-when marcus says "let's bring the video wall down", vincent says "i don't think we should do that" here he pauses and everyone laughs & cheers!! then something about how "video never fucking works anyway!"

-reece definitely flubs whatever new line they came up with, because he says "oh is it my line now?" this kinda gets drowned out by the laughter

-when the stage that vincent/steve is standing on moves, steve seemed to forget to step down so he was startled by it moving!!! 😂😂

-marcus definitely says the "grammar" line twice, not sure if this was reece flubbing or an actual last minute change/edit.

-during the trepanning scene, they do still bring the camcorder(?) on stage and they act eveything out as if the video wall is there - but we the audience have to watch the actors, rather than flick up to the screen.

-same with the self-taping scene. it's all played out as is and we watch the actors act/react. here we felt they amped up the sound for when they think they see something on the screen.

-when abby/gaby leaves the stage, sherrie/miranda does everything as is - but when she leaves the stage, ofc we don't get to see the backstage part. there's like a <1min beat and they drop the head in the centre of the stage.

-everything is as is when sherrie comes back out and is scared off stage, and the abby/marcus part is also the same.

-when abby kills marcus, she picks up the camera and does the 360 around the stage - here we don't get the audience disappearing & the jumpscare on camera. instead, bloody belle comes up in the box (as per) and she does the scream when the light is shone on her! end scene

stray observations:

-good to spot marcus mouthing along to the lines during the trepanning scene! such an ollie moment lol

-some people still stood up to clap during the first curtain call lol

-same audience reactions that i still think are cute: gasps when tommy points the gun at len & reactions to the foot sawing part. the man sat behind me did go "oh my godd" when they do the "will he be long"/"about average for a man his height" line exhange lmao

-i love how much the audience loves hugo!!

-we both wondered how the toby/reece switch was done but forgot to look out for this! too focused on seeing what changes they made to act ii!!

alright that's it for now! might add more about this show later if i can recall. starting the day early bc i've been up since 6am lol it'll be good to go outside and clear my head a bit.