#there's a tree in the front yard of my childhood house that no one will befriend quite like i did

[wordsofnoconsequence]

The Border Of All I Knew Once

As a child I would run up with my Heart in my hands, bounding up to The borderline, clamber up the fence To look beyond, beyond, as far as I could see. The seas of green, the fireflies flickering, The stars above me gently smiling. The summer wind sweeping past, whispering To cast in amber this one stilling memory. I used to want to walk wherever the path unfurls, Now I've grown older, and I know how it goes. But that prayer is not to start walking, but to keep on. To get back to that wonder, simmering all along. I touch my hands to that rough wooden bend, And look, unharried, above my unknowing head. This drowsing summer song, balm to my soul. This view I've always known, one of a million homes. I can still enter this living memory, I can ponder that which it is beckoning. And when it comes time to for me to return, This wonder will push me into my own momentum.

[buckyalpine]

Buttercup

Bucky x Reader

Childhood friends to lovers. Thought of this randomly and I thought it was so cute because imagine chubby baby Bucky in love with his cute little neighbor. Imagine this little boy with his messy mop of brown hair on his head, rosy cheeks, blushing over his friend who he adores so much. He toddles over to her porch, excited over the very important game of hide and seek they had planned for the day.

Y/n, y/l/n, or Buttercup according to him is his favorite person in the whole world besides Stevie. He loves Steve, he knows he does, but Buttercup is different. He gets these little butterflies in that chubby belly of his whenever they play together. He's usually a rambunctious devil but not at all with her. If she wants a tea party, he'll sit with her on her yard with a picnic mat spread out, always sneaking a few cookies from the jar for them to share.

She really likes the swing that hangs on the branch of the tree in front of his house. He'll push her with all his might till she squeals with laughter; a big toothy grin on his face when she says faster Bucky. When she trips over and scrapes her knee, he's dashing to his house to find a band aid, blowing on the cut just like his ma does when he hurts himself, he's so careful with his shaky little hands.

"Tank you Bucky" You say between a sniffle, kissing his cheek without thinking, the both of you innocently blinking at each other before running off and playing again. All Bucky knows is that he wants Buttercup by his side for his whole entire life.

So imagine his joy when he finds out its a possibility.

He's in his nicest buttoned shirt, tucked into his dress pants and polished shoes, hair combed over to the side. He kicks his legs while sitting with his mother, father and sisters, watching one of their family friends recite their vows at the altar. Winnifred already had to place her hand on his leg twice to keep him still, warning him that he had to behave at weddings since it was an important day.

"Why are they getting married?" He asks, wondering what the big deal was if they were in church on a Saturday.

"Because they care about each other Jamie, they'll be happy together forever" She whispers, pulling her squirmy little one onto her lap so he can see better.

“Can me and y/n get married mama?” He asks with large innocent eyes, hopeful she’ll say yes.

“You wanna marry y/n, huh?” She coos, brushing back the strands of soft hair that cover his forehead. “Y’know you’ll have to take care of her baby”

“I know” He nods with confidence, of course he'd always take care of his Buttercup.

“And you’ll have to work real hard" Again he nods, just waiting for her to say yes, maybe he can get married tomorrow! "You gotta love her with all your heart"

"I do mama, I do!"

"Then one day baby boy, one day you can marry her"

"But I wanna marry her now!" Bucky doesn't understand what the issue was, he knew he loved his Buttercup right then and there, why did he have to wait?

"Just wait a little while okay? My sweet little boy" Winifred laughed at her baby's fallen face, kissing his flushed cheek. "Before you know it, it'll be your turn"

Patience wasn't Bucky's strong suit but if it meant he'd be with you, he'd wait as long as he had to. He sat on the soft grass with you under the shade of a tree, sipping on a cup of lemonade your mom had brought out for you both.

“I wanna marry you” he pouts, "But mama says I have to wait and dad said I gotta ask p'mission first"

"Then we can be best f'wends forever?" You ask excitedly and he grins in response.

"F'wends forever"

"You promise?"

"I promise"

Now I thought about stopping this fic here but....

Some may have thought that eventually his puppy love lose its fire but no. His crush doesn't ever die down. Not when he nicks a flower from his mothers prized garden when you turn 5. Not when he gives you his favorite brown bear for Christmas. Not when he saves up all his allowance to buy you your first porcelain doll for your 10th birthday. It just grows and grow until he stands before you, wiping the tear that slips down your cheek when he comes to say good bye before going off to the army.

“One day m’gonna marry you doll" He whispers, doing his best to blink back his own tears while you sniffle against his chest.

"You promise?" You ask him with the same innocent doe eyes you had when you were little,

"I promise" He hugs you tighter, not wanting to let you go, the both of you spending the afternoon under the same shady tree. His mothers ring is kept safely in a box, tucked away in his room. He'd spoken to your father in private as soon as you'd both turned 18, not wanting to waste a second. All he had to do was return, safe and sound to his Buttercup.

Bucky goes through hell, sees the worst things imaginable, some days he struggles to keep his eyes open, cuts and wounds littering his battered body. However, when he closes his eyes and thinks about her smile, the way he'd get butterflies when she giggles, he knows he has to survive and come home. It doesn't matter how hard it is to keep going now because one day it'll all be worth it.

Which is why he practically runs home once the war is over, zipping in and out of his house and up to the porch next door, panting with flushed cheeks. He hears shuffling on the other side, his heart beating erratically while clutching onto the ring, the knob clicking open.

"Buttercup?"

"Jamie!" You gasp, tears running down your face in no time as you throw your arms around him, your feet lifting off the ground as he spins you. "You're back!"

"I promised you doll" He presses his forehead against yours before sinking down on one knee, smiling up at you while you choke back a sob, his hand holding onto yours.

"Buttercup, will you-

"Yes, Jamie yes!!" You nod frantically, while he happily slips the ring onto your finger before kissing you deeply, only pulling away to breathe. He doesn't give you long, pulling you back for more, his tongue laced with yours, unbothered that you're both on the porch, most of the neighbor watching quietly with steamy eyes.

Honestly, imagine how emotional everyone would be seeing the handsome soldier with his beautiful sweet bride up at the altar, going rom little babies to children to two souls that were meant to be together from the start. So cute.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi! I want to start off by saying that I absolutely ADORE your stories!! ❤️💖💖😁😁😁😁💖💖❤️ And I also really hope you make a series out of the de-aged Captain Marvel au! The potential cuteness and absolute chaos is great!

Tim Drake no longer owned Drake Manor.

When his mother died, it had fallen out of his family's assets as his father had been less than prepared to run the company. When he woke that was.

At the time, Tim had been struggling with the loss and the craziness life had become. Moving to the penthouse was a necessary evil because otherwise, Bruce would have noticed that his "uncle" wasn't around as much. He hadn't really missed the manor, but it was a comfrot to see it there, unchaning since his family fell apart.

He always told himself he would repurchase it, making a mental note whenever he was at Wayne Manor, but he never did for one reason or another. The building remained on the market, but it was considered bad luck among the elites to purchase ancestral homes and the regular populance could never afford it.

Tim would sometimes glance at the manor while driving his motorbike to visit the Waynes. Occasionally, he would stop at the gate, staring at the building and reminiscing.

It would help clear his head on some dark nights. He silently promised himself that when he retired from the field, he would come back home and maybe raise his own family here. It was likely a lie because he couldn't imagine a life without being a vigilante, but it was a nice thought anyway.

He did that today, going for a drive to clear his head and aiming to stop in front of his old home to climb over the fence and sit under the same tree when he realized with a start that the yard had been cleaned up and a group of people were moving items into the building. Yanking out his phone, Tim did a quick search, feeling all the blood drain from his face when the listing now read: SOLD

An overwhelming sense of numbness erupted from his chest as he looked back up, watching the moving crew go to and fro with the belonging of the new owners.

Someone had bought his childhood home. Tim had allowed it to slip through his fingers.

He doesn't have time to process that before a child's laughter has him swinging his head to the top of the gate pillars. There, a boy with bright blue eyes is watching him, eating a giant swirl lollipop.

Tim's heart launches when he realizes how close the child is to tilting over as he yells "Hi mister!"

"Hey there." Tim says as calmly as he can speak."Are you okay up there? You can fall."

"I'm fine. It's really easy to climb up here."

Tim knows. He used the same method to follow Bruce and Jason as a kid. Still, it doesn't make it safe so he steps closer, just incase he needs to catch the kid. It helps, having this distraction from the ache of his mistake in not rebuying Drake Manor.

He ignores the empty sign that the child is leaning against, the faded outline of his family name showing where they removed the metal shapes. He can't handle that right now.

"If you're sure. My name is Tim by the way. What's yours?"

"I'm Billy! I'm five years old! " the boy answers, holding up his hand with a cheer. He gives his lollipop two licks before he gestures at Tim with it."Why are you standing in front of my house?"

"I just.....got curious. You have a pretty house." Tim says as evenly as he can.

"It's super pretty inside, too! My Dad bought it for my Mom and Papa," the boy cheerfully tells him. We move next to my uncle because my Dad says we have to stay close to family."

Wait.

"Bruce Wayne is your uncle?" Tim asks, and the boy nods rapidly. He even points down the street to where Wayne Manor can be viewed from a far distance- neighbors, they may be- the two properties were very vast. "He lives over there with my cousins."

Cousins.

"Oh" Tim hears himself say "That would be me."

Billy eyes sparkle "You're a Wayne?"

"Yes, Tim Drake-Wayne."

"I'm Billy Phantom! Heir to throne!" Billy shouts leaping off the pillar cuasing Tim to launch forward with his arms streach out ready to catch. He hits the ground with a oof but a lack of weight in his hands says he failed to caught Billy.

Not that it mattered as Billy floated in the air harmlessly. Tim glances at the workers to see if anyone has noticed that the boy is apparently a meta, but they don't even look over. Maybe the information was disclosed upon hiring?

"Are you Robin?" Billy says in his face, flouting upside down and staring into Tim's round eyes. He still lays in a heap on the floor, position for a catch and it must make quite a sight to any onlooker. "You look to big to be that one."

Before Tim could even think of an excuse, multicolored rose petals started to fall around them in a dazzling down. It appeared like foral confiti falling from the heavens. Billy flips around to see a pale, beautiful woman dressed in a gothic attire walking toward them.

Behind her, plant life blossoms into a wonderful sight. "Mom!"

"Billy, what did we say about Uncle Bruce's secret?" The lady says, voice musical to the ear.

"But Mom! Only the ghosts are around!" Billy whines, pointing at the moving crew further down the driveway, who have yet to pay attention to them. They didn't care that a goth version of Posion Ivy had strutted by.

"That's no excuse. What would your auntie Jazz say?"

"She says I was not being trustworthy with secrets and other peoples' feelings. I'm sorry." Billy slumps, flouting down to pout on the ground.

"Exactly. Hello Timothy," the woman continues, turning her purple eyes towards the down boy.It's lovely to have family over. "I'm Sam, goddess of the Green. Bruce recommended this place to us. We are excited for the next ten year vacation"

Bruce has a lot to tell him, more then just selling his family house without letting Tim know.

[darlingshane]

cheers to new traditions

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Though you were the same age, grew up in the same street and went to the same school, you and Michael lived in two different worlds. It isn't until you're both full-grown adults that get the chance to know each other better. It's on Christmas day. He's miserable, you're miserable, and both decide to ditch dinner with your respective families to make your own new tradition.

CW: 18+, smut, some angst, making out, vaginal sex, smoking, smoking weed, drinking alcohol, eating food, childhood neighbors, pet names, reader has tattoos and piercings.

Word Count: 7k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

Michael must get out of the house to get some air before resorting to something more radical to deal with these people. He’s saving that for later, or for when he has no other choice but to. By that time everyone will be so buzzed and no one would be able to tell the difference from him being high or not.

It’s been an hour since guests arrived. The main show hasn’t even started yet, and he’s crawling up the walls already. So, he heads out to have a smoke in the solitude of the cold and an empty street full of cars from people coming over for the holidays to visit their families.

It’s still daylight, but the downcast weather is as grey as his mood.

By the stoop of the house, he lights up a cigarette and looks down at the snow collecting on the pavement's cracks as he takes his first drag. A noise ahead, a door closing, pulls his stare up from the ground to see someone coming out of the neighbors’ house across the street.

It’s you, clad in a dark, short coat with a hood pulled over your head. You turn the corner of the house to stop by the bare tree on the side yard. You seem to have the same idea as him, cause shortly after you lean against the brick wall, you produce a lighter and smoke from your coat’s pocket.

He has to make an effort to remember your name. It takes him a moment cause you two were never friends. Though you're the same age, grew up in the same street, rode the same school bus for many years, and had a couple of classes together, Michael and you lived in two different worlds. He was the popular one, the jock who always got into trouble but hardly ever saw any consequences. And you were a band nerd, who also took pictures for the school paper, and never had more than two close friends. You were basically the definition of what the cool kids considered to be a loser. However, you never felt anything as such. You knew what you liked and stuck to your close-knit group. Whatever other people thought about you and your friends was of little importance.

Through the fog in his mind he fishes a memory of that time you two were paired to work on a project for history class. It was an interesting week to say the least. He did as little as possible and though you were really apathetic about it too, you two managed to get a passing grade.

But there's one thing that juggles his memory to recall every letter of your name and that is realizing that you were, and still are, one of Tiffany's closest friends. She and Richie didn't get together until a couple of years ago, and during that time, Michael and you never even stumble upon the other cause they’ve kept their circles apart.

Michael stares at you for a long minute before deciding to cross to the other side of the street to say hi. Partly cause he's curious to know how your life turned out, and partly cause he'd rather do anything else than go back inside.

You're taking a drag of your smoke when his feet come to a stop right in front of you. The first thing he notices up close it’s that there's no cigarette between your lips. The familiar smell tells him it's a joint. It's held in a hand wearing a fingerless glove that shows chipped nail polish and an array of small tattoos adoring your knuckles.

“What? Do I have something in my face?” a cloud of smoke collides with the icy air as it emerges out of your mouth.

“No, I just… I grew up across the street. I'm-”

“Carmy. Berzatto. I know you,” you interrupt dryly.

“Mikey actually,” he scoffs.

“What do you want, Berzatto?”

He shrugs, tucking his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

“I just wanted to say hi. I don't know if you remember this, but we used to go to school together.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You take another drag and look to the side dismissively.

Michael can take a hint, and that hint tells him that you're not exactly in the mood to talk to him or anyone else for that matter.

He's not sure why he needed to though. If it was just a means to escape his own misery or just because he saw something in you that reminded him of himself.

He starts walking away, mumbling a barely audible “have a nice day,” but your voice stops him in his tracks.

“Do you want a hit?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees your hand holding up the joint in his direction. His lips pull up at the corners before accepting your offering.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he picks it up from your fingers and takes a long puff.

“What are you running from, Berzatto?” you question as he fills his lungs with the intoxicating aroma of your weed.

“I don't know. This fucking day I guess.”

“So you still live at home.” You state, knowing pretty well that he in fact does.

“Something like that. What gave it away?”

You shrug, “woman's intuition I guess. I saw Tate Weems the other day and had the same rugged look of — I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life. Also, Tiff told me.”

“So first-hand information. No intuition at all. But you're not comparing me to Weems, right?”

“What? You two aren't buddies anymore?”

“I was never buddies with that scumbag. You have to know that.”

And hopes that you do know it, because he'd never associated himself with someone like that. Despite the fact they were in the same team and often had to tolerate the guy for the sake of the game, he'd never call Tate a friend. Especially after what he did to two girls back in school. One of them being one of your closest friends growing up.

“Hm, so you know.”

“I know,” he gently nods, handing your joint back so you can take a hit.

“Heard you beat the shit out of him a few years ago when he came into your shop and that you almost went to jail.”

Michael starts puzzling the pieces together in his mind realizing that you know more than you first led on.

“Tiff again?” His brow raises.

“Richie told me, actually.” You point out before bringing the joint to your lips.

“You know they're having dinner at my place,” his head tilts to the side to point at his house, “you could come in and say hi.”

“I know. They told me.”

“Hm, it looks like they've told you a lot of things, why are you pretending you don’t know who I am?”

“Force of habit. I didn’t want to give you the impression that I’ve ever thought about you.”

“You didn’t want to give me the impression? Why? Have you ever thought about me?” His head leans to the side as one corner of his lips quirks up.

“Not really. Not in the way that you’re implying. If I ever thought of you, it was just me wondering where you ended up.”

“And what did you imagine I'd end up doing?”

“I don't know… Something with sports was my best bet. You seemed really into it back then. Thought you'd go pro.”

“I loved playing, I just wasn't anything stellar. You'd know if you ever went to any of our games.”

“I think I went to a couple. But we'd only hang out in the parking lot and just get blazed.” Drawing a smile you pass the joint to Michael again. “Just like this.”

“I used to get high after the game, so you and me… Not that different.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So, where did you end up, sweetheart?”

“Take a guess.”

“Shit, I have no idea… I think I saw you around with a camera taking pictures for the school paper, yeah? I could see you doing that or something related to art.”

“I still take pictures as a hobby. But you're not too far off, I'm a tattoo artist.”

“That's neat. You’ll have to show me your work, maybe I'll let you do my next tattoo.”

“I'm pretty good,” you boast, “but yeah, you should come by the shop and see for yourself first.”

“I will,” he lifts the cig up to his mouth.

Talking to you really puts him in a better mood, and vice versa. But it's still not enough for him to rush back home. Despite the cold and him forgetting to put on a jacket, he'd rather freeze his balls off than return to the cursed circus that is the Berzatto household.

“So, what are you running from?” He parrots the same question you asked him a few minutes ago.

You draw a wry smile before answering.

“Same as you, I suppose. This crazy day. We shouldn't have to be forced to socialize with people once a year in the name of tradition. It's like when you were a kid and your mom invited all the kids from your class to your birthday party, even the ones you hate cause she didn't want anyone to be left out.”

“I hear you, sweetheart.”

“It'd be great if we could trade places. If I went to yours, and you went to mine, do you think they'd notice?”

Your quip makes him laugh and hang his head down for a beat. Then, he looks over his shoulder for a moment to gaze at the Berzatto house.

“Here's a better idea… let's get in the car, ditch these assholes, and have dinner somewhere else. Just you and me.” He suggests.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“You're crazy, Berzatto. We can't just bolt. It's Christmas.”

“Why not? We're two fucking adults, you know what I mean?” His tone turns on a dime from a taciturn speech to pep talk aided with hand movements. “We can do whatever we want. Would you rather spend the day having fun with a semi-stranger like me or be miserable with people you've known your whole life?”

Pressing your teeth on your bottom lip, you consider for a few seconds.

“When you put it like that… What the hell. Let's go.”

“Attagirl.”

You follow Michael closely toward his car, but he realizes that the keys are in the house and in order to leave he'd have to go inside to get them. But that isn't going to stop you.

Your car is just at the end of the street, and conveniently you have everything you need in your coat's pockets, including your car keys, so you take yours instead.

The whole thing is crazy… He's nuts and so are you for following along. But it gives you a rush to quickly steer the car out of the neighborhood before anyone notices. They will, eventually. It's early to tell, there's too many people in the house to say where everyone is at all times. Maybe at actual dinner time they'll notice you're missing but for now, you're just going to enjoy the ride and see where it takes you.

No matter the consequences, this is already better than having to endure another Christmas hearing the same tired arguments with your family, and holding yourself back from punching your cousin's boyfriend for his relentless sexist remarks.

Driving aimlessly for a good fifteen minutes across the city, you suggest a few places but end up settling your destination at The Beef. You've walked by the place a handful of times, but you never stepped inside until now.

There, Michael trades his thermal shirt for a blue, short sleeve t-shirt with the shop's logo, giving you a chance to see the ink adorning his arms. You decide to make pizza from scratch and while you let the dough rise for over an hour, he tells you the story about each of his tattoos.

Music plays in the background to fill the awkward silences while you have a drink and eat some snacks to make time until Michael deems the dough ready to turn into a pizza. Which prompts you to ask several questions about food and the restaurant. You can tell he's quite in his element and it really suits him.

Once he's given shape to the dough, you help him pick and spread an array of toppings on your pizza. His elbow nudges yours as he effortlessly sprinkles a heap of mozzarella on top.

As he puts it on the oven, you sit on the counter and nurse your soda.

“It suits you, you know? This, being a cook,” you tell him as he grabs his drink.

“Yeah?” the corners of his lips automatically quirk up.

“Yeah, I'm kind of impressed, to be honest. I could never whip out pizza dough from scratch that easily. I tried once, but I just don't have the patience for cooking it I guess.”

“Hm, thank you. So, tattooing butts for hours doesn't require patience?”

You snort. “I haven't tattooed that many butts, but it requires more focus than patience.”

“You'll have to show me sometime.”

“How to tattoo asses? Yeah, I could even tattoo yours if you want to.” You say casually, sizing the way his eyebrows raise at your unexpected proposal.

“What would you put on my ass if you could?”

“I don't know… Turn around,” your pointer finger draws a circle in the air, “I need to see the canvas first.”

He plays along and takes a spin around to show you his backside. The kitchen suddenly feels hotter than when you first entered. You draw your eyes down to survey, critically of course, the small, firm shape of his butt, hugged by a pair of jeans.

“Do you want me to pull my pants down?” He smirks, glancing over his shoulder.

“No, I’m good,” you laugh, “you can turn around. I think I got a pretty good idea of what I’d do.”

“Yeah?” he tilts the beer bottle in his hand over his lips.

“Uh-hm, I'd simply put – bite me – one word on each cheek, you know? I've pitched that idea to a few people, but they never went for it.”

“Maybe it’s cause I’m high as fuck, but I’d like that.”

“Yeah, you should mull it over later when it wears off. My rule of thumb is never get a tattoo when you’re high or drunk. You’d be surprised by the atrocities I had to cover up over the years because of that.”

“I bet,” he takes another sip of his beer before pointing at the line art inked on your fingers. “You got more than those?”

“Yeah, I have a few more.” But they’re all covered by a cozy sweater and black jeans.

“Can I see them?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “they’re in very compromising places. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll show you later.”

“Alright, it’s on, sweetheart,” he bites his lower lip, and takes that as a challenge.

You’re surprised how easy it feels talking to him. You can't recall the last time you clicked with someone that organically fast. Though you were aware of certain aspects of his life, you only knew each other in passing. You always had this idea of him that he was kind of a douche for what you heard about him. And you should know better by now than to pass judgment on people from rumors and gossip.

If you had known he was this delightful, you'd try harder to get to know him earlier.

Before the pizza is out of the oven your phone finally goes off to have someone wondering where the hell you are.

Michael watches you, amused, as you lie your ass off over the phone. You tell your brother you had to leave to take Tiffany to the hospital cause her water broke and Richie was wasted, and you were the only one sober and close enough to drive her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself for using your friend like that,” Michael scoffs, “you better pray nobody sees Tiff the rest of the night.”

“They won't. You should work on your excuse for when you get the inevitable call.”

Michael pulls out the phone from his pocket to see there are a couple of texts from Sugar and another one from Richie.

His expression changes quickly when his smile fades away.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, everything's fine.” He sighs, texting Richie back, almost regretting his decision of ditching Christmas dinner, solely for the fact of leaving Carmy and Nat to deal with hurricane Donna. Nonetheless, they've grown up and don't need Michael to hold their hand anymore.

They'll be okay, he convinces himself.

Despite having second thoughts for just a moment, he really doesn't feel like going back home. He's enjoying your company more than he expected, and he's excited to see where the night leads.

While you devour the delicious pizza you've made together, the conversation flows nicely, jumping from topic to topic, getting a good sense of the other. Though you both seem different at first glance, as you dig deeper into his thoughts, it feels like looking into a mirror. You and Michael have trouble fostering good romantic relationships, neither of you have the best track record. You use humor to mask that unbearable pain you carry, and tend to be really impulsive. Being here is proof of that last one. But you do share some good traits too… you're both also undeniably loyal to your friends, wildly independent, and have no problem speaking your mind, which can be troubling sometimes.

There's a certain ease in the way he looks at you that makes your heart soar in ways you haven't felt in s long time. Perhaps it’s the weed talking, but there’s definitely a raw electricity bubbling surrounding the table you’re sitting at. And the longer you stay together, the more you feel like doing something you might regret.

This is not how you saw today going, but it's certainly a welcome change from the tired Christmas traditions and family matters. Which might sound selfish but neither you nor Michael would be in the first place if you had healthier relationships with your relatives.

“I don't think pizza ever tasted this good,” you say after finishing your last slice.

“You should send your compliments to the chef.”

“I could even kiss him,” you blurt out without thinking, and watch his eyes grow wide from across the table. “Do you think he'd like that?”

“I uh… I think he'd love that.” Michael licks his lips, drawing a grin.

There's a moment of silence as you stare at the other, capturing that sizzling electricity that's daring you to taste his mouth.

You lift your glass of water and take a sip first before leaning over the table to follow that impulse.

“My compliments to the chef,” you murmur under a breath an inch away from his mouth. The hairs of his beard prick your skin before fully pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. They're warm and soft, just like you’ve been imagining for the past hour.

He desperately wants to dive deeper just as much as you do, but after a couple of seconds you manage to hold that urge and pull back.

“Hm, thanks, sweetheart,” he utters when you settle your back against the chair and offers his beer bottle up in your direction. “Cheers to new traditions.”

“Cheers,” you clink your glass with his bottle and take a sip together of your respective drinks.

“Should we maybe start cleaning up?” you clear your throat, and gesture at the table, almost spoiling the moment.

“Is that really what you want?” His brow playfully lifts.

“No, that’s not what I want.”

“Why would you suggest that, then?”

“I guess I’m just trying to give you an out. We had a perfect evening. If we keep going down this path, we might do something that could potentially ruin it. Unless that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want an out and I don’t think there’s nothing we can do to ruin this.”

“No? Then what do you wanna do, Michael Berzatto?”

His eyes pin you a look that almost sets you ablaze. “You. I wanna do you.”

“Yeah?” Given that you started this, you could let him do the next move, but you’d be damned to wait like an idiot for him to make the move after having him say that with such conviction. So, you stand up, walk around the table to straddle his lap. His hands are drawn automatically to your hips, inviting you to get comfortable.

Under a very dim light of the orange neon sign illuminating his face, Michael mirrors your smile as you cup his face in your hands, leaning closer to capture his lips once more, with feeling. He's quick to respond to the urgency of your tongue, delving past the front lines of your teeth without hesitation. It takes you a moment to grasp a good rhythm together but once you're there, nothing can't stop the fervent desire of that unholy union.

It's hot and messy and utterly intoxicating.

You hold tight to his neck while he digs his fingers at the curve of your hips, pulling you flush against his center, letting you feel the hardness of his bulge growing beneath thick denim layers.

“Hm,” his breath catches, and he breaks the kiss to ask. “Have I earned seeing your tattoos?”

You scoff, wiping the corner of your mouth with a thumb.

“You definitely have.”

This time, before you can take off your sweater, he's the one gripping the hem and sliding it up your torso, pulling it over your head, exposing your bra. Your skin is kept warm under his palms when he places them on your sides while he admires the collection of tattoos on your arms, chest that spread to your back. There's one in particular that sits between your breasts that catches his eye. It's partially covered by your bra, but he can clearly see a snake coiled around a dagger. He uses his point finger to pull down gently to see it fully.

He draws the snake softly with his fingertip, making your skin buzz before noticing the twin studs of your piercings adorning your erected nipples, poking behind the delicate fabric of your bra.

Pressing his teeth to his lip, he lets his wandering fingers invite themselves to touch one of your pierced nipples over the cotton layer.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Your core twitches at the way his voice husks paired with the pressure of his thumb playing with the barbell attachment.

“Yeah, it feels real good,” you sigh in bliss as he tugs the cup of your bra to uncover your tit and feel your skin across the pad of his thumb.

“Does it feel better with piercings?”

“Definitely,” you wink at him.

“You're so damn sexy,” he breathes, locking his lust-drown eyes with yours as he removes your bra completely.

Baring your teeth, you respond by sliding one of your hands down to his crotch to caress the hard bulge straining the blue denim. You curl your fingers around it, watching him struggle to bury a grunt in his throat. He curses a “fuck” instead and forces himself to inhale deeply.

You observe his mouth up close as his tongue juts out to wet his lips before dipping his head to kiss your pointed peak.

It sends chills down your spine to have the tip of his tongue playfully swirling around the piercing before sucking your nipple between his lips. Your core is most pleased and excited, and you can feel it in the way your walls slick.

He's fully grown in your fist when you feel an intermittent buzz near your hand.

“Is your dick vibrating?”

“It's my phone,” he scoffs, releasing your nipple.

“Oh. Right.”

“There,” he quickly pulls his device from his pocket and tosses it on the table without looking at it.

It keeps buzzing while he dives to mouth to put neck, tickling your skin with his beard.

You try to focus again, but his phone keeps going off.

“Maybe you should pick it up.” You suggest.

Michael pulls his head back with a sigh and checks it up just in case. There are a handful of texts and calls from Richie and Nat, asking him to come back home because Donna got into a car accident. They say specifically that she drove the car into the house which it's something he has trouble imagining. That's borderline, even for Donna.

As quick as it started, it ends. His buzz is killed again by his own mother.

He doesn't give you the details right away, all he asks is for you to drive him back. It's during that drive that he tries to explain it with the little details he knows.

The siren lights are quickly on sight as soon as you enter the street. There’s an ambulance and a police car park in front of the Berzatto house when you drop him off.

He rushes out of the car without so much as a goodbye, which you completely understand. There are neighbors scattered all over the street, watching the shitshow. You have to drive a couple streets over to find a decent parking stop. Then you walk back to your parents’ house just as they are serving dessert. They aren’t creeping in the streets like the rest, but they still peek out the window, trying to find out what’s going on.

You climb upstairs to your old room. Sitting in the dark, you look out the window, having front row tickets to witness a tow truck coming into the scene to pull out the car that’s been shoved right through the facade. A couple of police officers go around taking statements from the Berzattos and friends, and some of the closest neighbors. They ring the bell at your house at some point too. The ambulance drives away with Donna and Natalie in the back.

People go back into their homes as the commotion slowly clears out. You see Tiff leaving with Richie, and at the end there’s only Michael, his brother, and one of their uncles you can’t name left in there, assessing the aftermath of the crash.

They stay there, guarding the house until the Faks come back to board up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

By the time you leave your parents’ house, they’re still working tirelessly under the freezing veil of the night to cover that up.

You don’t see him, and he doesn’t see you leave either.

It's a shame the night had to end like that. You're not a stranger to bizarre situations, but Donna Berzatto driving her car into the house was beyond perplexing.

When you finally pull up in the parking space in your building's garage you notice there's a zippo lighter with a Red Sox’s logo on the side left on the passenger seat that you don't recognize. It must have fallen from Michael's pocket. So, you keep it safe to give it to maybe use it as an excuse to show up sometime by his joint and give it back.

A couple of days pass, and you are still holding onto that lighter, unable to build up the courage to return it.

You had a moment together. A very beautiful, sexy moment you won't ever forget but is it enough to justify you showing up out of the blue? Perhaps. You've never doubted yourself like this before. And it takes you until the day before New Year's Eve to finally push yourself to stop by The Beef.

Richie is up front, ringing customers. His blue eyes widen when he sees you waiting in line.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“It's good to see you too, jagoff. Is that how you greet all your customers?” you scoff.

“No, sorry. I just wasn't expecting you.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything, right?”

“Right. So it doesn't have anything to do with you stealing Mikey on Christmas.”

“I don't know what he's told you, but it was his idea. Anyway, is he around? He left something in my car.”

“What? His dignity?”

“Shut up, Richard. Is he around or not?” you glance over the service window to the kitchen but can't quite tell if he's there or not.

“He's out back having a smoke. Go to the left, bend the corner past the parking lot. Find the red fence by the trash cans,” he gestures directions with a hand.

“Got it.”

You head out, following Richie's directions toward the back door of The Beef to find him there, pacing the length of the fence with a cigarette in his hand.

“Hey, Berzatto.”

As Michael turns around his face beams up quickly in surprise.

“Oh, hey. Shit, I didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought about calling, but I didn't get your number and with everything you got going on… I didn’t wanna bother you. Here,” you offer the zippo in his direction, “you left it in my car.”

“Appreciate it,” he half smiles, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to call too. I got your number from Richie. But uh… I guess I felt weird using it. I didn't think you'd wanna see me again after what happened.”

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“That we are.”

You both softly laugh for a second.

“How’s everything? Is Donna okay?”

“That’s a loaded question. But considering what happened and what it could’ve been… everyone’s fine. And Donna… She's Donna.” He resigns, sinking his head between his shoulders.

“What about you?”

“I uh… I’ve been staying with Richie for a couple of days until I find a place. I just needed to get out of there, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

He throws the butt of his cigarette to the ground and puts it off with the toe of his shoe.

“Did I ruin our moment the other night?”

You shake your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Michael. I had a great time with you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah? I had a great time too.”

“Hm… maybe we should finish what we started sometime if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, I… I’d love that, sweetheart,” he pauses for a moment to lick his lips before confessing. “For the sake of honesty, I should tell you that you left something here too.”

“What did I leave?”

“You should see for yourself.”

He beckons you to follow into the kitchen through the staff door and into his office. He closes the door and out of one of his drawers he pulls out your bra. Of course, you left that.

“Came here early the next day and found it on the floor.”

“God, I didn’t even notice. I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“We were high as fuck, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Well, thanks for keeping it safe I guess,” you shove it into your bag and clear your throat. “Be honest, would you have given it back if I hadn’t come here?”

“Huh?” he half laughs, “what do you think I am? Some kind of pervert that keeps trophies of their hookups?”

“No. I didn't say that. Just wondering.”

“You know… I wasn't sure if I was gonna see you again or not, but it wasn't my intention to keep it. I guess I was hoping I could give it back if that meant I could talk to you again.”

“That's a good answer.”

“So, about that thing we gotta finish…”

“Right. I’m free tonight if you wanna come over.”

“Straight to the point. I like that.”

“I’m not a fan of wasting time.”

“Yeah, yeah, me neither,” he scoffs. “We close at ten, I could be there before midnight.”

“Okay, give me your phone.”

He hands you his phone so you can call your number to have his registered on your phone and then put your address in his contacts.

“Text me if you change your mind. No hard feelings if you do, but don’t leave me waiting like an asshole, got it?” you give him a warning look as you hand the phone back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He places it on the desk, and before you can leave out the door, he grabs your waist and gently pushes your back against the wall.

You swallow as his lips lean closer to whisper in your ear. “I promise I won’t leave you hanging. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, sweetheart. It’s… it’s the only thing that’s kept me going these past few days.”

He kisses your cheek while your lips curve into a grin, saying back, “I haven't stopped thinking about you either.”

“That's good,” he hums at the curve of your neck, scratching your skin with the coarse hairs of his beard, inhaling your scent as you slip your fingers at the back of his nape.

One hand draws the curve of your ass, at the same time his lips part to leave a wet kiss on your neck before finding your lips. Using his tongue as bait, you fall easily into the alluring trap of his mouth. The kiss is slow but firm, offering you a taste of what's to come. You can feel his excitement in every swirl and the way he presses his body against yours, hoping there would be no layers in between.

You'd fuck him right here, right now if you could. But alas, everything good comes to an end and once more, The Beef is proven to be the worst place for a hookup when Richie knocks on the door, calling Michael's name.

Separating your lips, you both let out a tired sigh, pull yourselves together before opening the door.

Anxiously waiting for Michael to show up at the end of the day, you order some food, take a nice bath and pamper yourself for the occasion. You put on some makeup, do your hair and rummage the bottom drawer of your dresser where you keep your sexiest lingerie. You choose a lacy set of your favorite color that suits your body perfectly. On top of that, you put on a t-shirt dress with the logo of your favorite band.

Michael texts you when he’s on the way, and you go around the apartment one more time to make sure nothing is out of place.

It's close to midnight when Michael shows up with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“You look nice,” his mouth says nice, but his eyes are clearly devouring you from the dark hollow of his browns.

“Thank you. You clean up good too, Berzatto.” You can tell by his new outfit that doesn’t include a logo of the beef printing on his chest, and the fresh cologne smell that follows him into your space. He’s trimmed the edges of his beard too. The cut is cleaner below his cheeks that light up in the warmth of your home.

To get in the mood, you first settle at the breakfast bar where you two share a glass of wine and some light conversation about your day. A couple of sips is enough for you to lean in closer and kiss him. You don’t wanna be too loopy for this so you choose to make a move before emptying your glass. He doesn’t protest. He gladly welcomes you into invading his space, tasting the striking red spirit lingering in his tongue. It’s a gentle dance at first. Once it grows restless, there’s no way to stop it. You make your way into the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes on the floor until your back hits the mattress.

You didn’t think his eyes could turn darker, but they do. They’re like two apache tears recently collected from lava, almost iridescent at the glow of a night lamp nearby. He observes you from above, capturing the beauty of your body wrapped only in the skimpy lingerie you picked and all the inked art.

Michael bends forward, sans shirt, smoothing a palm at the curve of your ass protected by the shape of a dragon.

“Did you put these on for me, sweetheart?” one of his fingers playfully tugs the elastic of your panties on the side of your hip, making it snap against your skin.

Biting your lip, you nod, and beckon him to come closer.

He still has his jeans on when he settles between your legs, allowing you to feel how hard you’ve made him. It’s his time now to seize your mouth as if he was dying of drought. Your lips bruise at the unwavering frenzy of his kiss. His hips press and press firmer between your legs, stirring a longing of arousal to pool in the sheer fabric of your panties.

He pulls his head back, leaving you panting to pepper your chest with kisses instead. His beard leads the way, prickling your skin before his lips and teeth touch the surface. He pushes your bra down to expose your tits. Drawn to the metal adorning your peaks his tongue juts out to play with them.

You push one of your hands between your bodies to open his fly and measure his hardness on your hand. He adjusts his hips slightly up to make some room for you. His cock barely fits in the curl of your fingers when you pump his shaft down a few times over the texture of his underwear.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me come.” His breathing falters, turns into a grunt, when you tug his underwear down to feel his skin directly against your palm.

“It's okay if you do. I don't mind,” you run the tip of your tongue along his cupid's bow when he lifts his head to look at you.

“You don't, don't you?” one of his hands slots between your legs, cupping your pussy.

You shake your head. “I wanna make you come.”

“Yeah?” he purrs, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “Wanna make you come too, sweetheart.”

“Then take these off, babe.” You order, giving a small tug to the waistband of his jeans.

Michael rolls to the side and quickly slips the rest of his clothes off while you kneel on the mattress and reach to pick up a condom from the nightstand.

His hands are fast to rid you off your lingerie and invite his palms to touch every inch of your skin while you get into position. You end up on top of him, rolling the condom on his generous erection before sinking onto it. Even though your walls are tender and sick to welcome the stretch, it takes you a moment to slowly take him during that first descent. You have to adjust your hips twice before you can fully fill yourself with his cock.

His enthralling stare stays on you, capturing every gesture, every breath, every move you make that renders him speechless. His heart races when you brace a palm on his chest while you use your opposite hand to rub your clit. He's never seen or had anyone or anything more beautiful than you on top of him, fucking him like this. It's absolutely enticing to have someone like you confidently ride his body to the maximum pleasure.

All his blood and thought nicely flows down to his center and has to make an effort to distract himself from coming too soon. He uses that moment to carve every curve and landmark of your body in his hands. He inspects every tattoo, tracing them in his memory to keep himself from spilling inside you.

When you grow used to the position, you bend forward, tucking your arms against his chest. You capture his mouth, and keep your hips rocking steady, gradually faster, while he keeps his fingers glued to your ass, aiding your moves.

“God, you feel so good,” you hum softly into the kiss and his cock twitches inside you.

He groans into the kiss, mumbling a “fuck, you feel amazing, sweetheart”, and uses his grip on your ass to move you faster.

Taking the hint, you hold yourself up, straightening your posture. You clutch your palms to his broad chest firmly, while your hips pick up the pace. His body vibrates beneath you pounce after pounce. His fingers skin deep at your skin, the closer you ride him to the edge. You exert your body shamelessly bouncing on his dick until you reach that final line. He squirms and grunts and struggles to breathe while you tirelessly earn his orgasm. His cock jerks wildly inside you, prompting your own walls to tremble and collapse around him as you come undone.

Your body is still shaking when you slip him out of you and fall limp on top of his torso. His arms curl sweetly around your back, soothing your spine with a hand, as you place your head on his shoulder.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” his voice comes out breathless.

“Yeah, I’m good… that was… amazing.” You draw some air to keep your voice even. “You want me to get off you?”

“No, please. You don’t have to move, sweetheart, I got you.” he laughs softly, tightening his hold around you.“And yeah, that was… amazing. You’re amazing.” He repeats for lacking better words to express how good it felt to finally have you like this.

“Do you wanna repeat later?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he responds so quickly it makes you chuckle.

You finally lift your head to look at him and capture the stunning afterglow of his orgasm illuminating his face. He looks tired but utterly overjoyed

“Cheers to new traditions, yeah?”

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he says and you both touch your lips together once more.

[punishereditz]

7 Years

Pairing: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Warnings: None. Just a lot of fluff and nerdy stuff. Childhood best friends to lovers. Do not copy!

AN: I absolutely love incorporating songs with my stories and I have this song on my playlist, and I got this idea. I have been at a terrible writer's block, but luckily, I was able to get this story done just in time for Valentine's.

Summary: All the times Jake asked you to marry him and all the times you turned him down... until one day it was different.

~

7 years old.

Jake runed through the yard and back to the tree house even though his mother specifically told him not to run. He had quickly climbed up, plates in hand. He sat by you, grin wide, you could tell he was up to no good like he usual his. The question was what was he is up to now?

His legs swinged as he happily ate the sandwich his mom made him for lunch, and you ate yours that she made for you. Luckily that day, she let you eat outside.

He giggled and smiled next to you, not being able to contain himself. He turned to you. "Will you marry me?" He finally said what has been on his mind.

You gave him a strange look as he held his arm out. Flower in hand. He patiently waited for an answer from you.

"No! We're to young." You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing.

His arm fell to his side, and before his smile could fall, he quickly snapped back with confidence, "But you will one day."

"No way Jake!" You shook your head and your refusal only made Jake want it more. Even if it would be a challenge, it was nothing he couldn't figure out. Jake knew right there and then that you were going to be his girl one day. He is going to stop at nothing until you are his.

11 years old.

Jake had searched the entire house, and there was no sight of you. After asking your mom, he made his way to the barn in hopes he would find you there. And he did.

He made his way to the top of the hay-bales where you sat up high. Head down in your notebook. He peaked his head over your shoulder. Trying to see what it is your drawing now.

"Whatcha drawing?" He asked.

"A cowboy Jedi." You answered without looking up at him. To focused on the shading, you were doing.

"A cowboy Jedi?" He repeated your words.

You turned the notebook so he could see it better. Using the pencil to point out each detail to him, explaining it. "See?"

He looked down at the western style Jedi that you have been working on for no telling how long. He only smiled widely at you. He didn't understand your obsession with all those Star Wars movies, but he knew it made you happy and he loves seeing you get all excited about something.

Looking away from the drawing, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring-pop, he held it out to you. "Will you marry me now?"

You laughed at him. Looking at him, then the candy. "Um... no. Nice try though." You smiled at him as you turned him down.

He let his head fall back, sighing. "I really thought the ring-pop would work. How could you say no to a ring-pop?" He said dead seriously, and you died of laughter.

"Will it make you feel better if I take it?" You somehow managed to speak through giggles. He said nothing as he handed it to you. His smile growing as he watched you go back to your own little world you have created in your notebook. You will be mine one day, He thought to himself.

18 years old.

Jake knocked on your bedroom door. Shortly after, you peaked your head out, then you fully opened the door for him to come in. Allowing him to see the mess you are. Your hair is tied up in a knot on top of your head. Mascara running down your cheeks and you wear an oversized shirt that swallows you whole.

You crawled back into bed, holding a pillow tight to your chest. Jake sat at the edge of the bed. Sitting two bags in front of you. He hated seeing you like this. It's rare for you to be this upset. Even when your sad, you usually still had a smile on your face, but that night you only frowned.

He pulls all the candy out of the bag. Trying to focus on cheering you up and not his anger. If you didn't ask him to come over when you called, he would have gone straight to the guy's house that did this to you. The guy you have been going out with standing you up for another girl.

"I got your favorites." He finally spoke. Handing you a bag of milky-ways. He reached into the second bag, pulling out a cd. He smiled as he handed it to you.

You gasped, eyes growing wide as you looked down at the Limp Bizkit's greatest hits cd. "Where did you find this? It's been sold out at every place I've checked."

"Well, a magician never tells his secrets." You roll your eyes. Tossing the pillow at him. He laughs.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly speaks. "You didn't deserve that." His voice is comforting. Soft. It catches you off guard. Tears threatening to fall. You stand up. Walking over to his side. As if he read your mind, he wraps you up in his arms. Holding you tightly. He gives you the comfort you need.

"You know... you wouldn't have to deal with assholes like him if you were married to me." You slap his chest.

"But then I would be married to an asshole- that I would never get to see."

"That's true..." He trails off.

"And before you ask, no." You speak. Knowing he will ask. And you know your answer. You're not dare going to say yes because you know once he joins the Navy, you will never get to see him.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Your voice cracks. Your terrified for him. But you won't let him know just how scared you are.

"I do, sweetheart." He fights off the knot that grows in his throat as he looks into your pain filled eyes.

"Well... may the force be with you." He chuckles.

"And may the force be with you." He puts up a smile for you. He wants to pull out the little round box with the ring he bought, get on one knee and beg you to marry him, but before he could even ask, you said no. And that's fine. He plans to try again.

35 years old. Presents day.

Jake's not paying one bit of attention to the movie. He looks down at his girlfriend in awe. You're laying against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He watches carefully as your eyes light up and your smile grows as you watch A New Hope.

He's never cared for the movies but yet he knows everything about them because of you. He is willing to suffer for two hours just because he knows you love them so much. Even though you have seen the movies thousands of times, you still squeal and squirm in excitement when a part you love happens, and that's what he loves to see.

He loves his metalhead, Star Wars, comic book loving, nerd of a girlfriend. You're still the exact same person you were when you were 7. Even though you two have been dating for three years now, he is still in shock that he got you. That you are his and he is yours. He jokingly mentioned dating one night, and you said yes. Completely confusing the hell out of him. But he quickly pulled it together and asked you out. You've been dating ever since. All his dreams have come true. And yours to. Jake's a fighter pilot for the US Navy, a job he loves, and is dating the woman he has been in love with for his entire life. Things couldn't be better.

While Jake was off in the Navy, you were working your ass off in college, getting a degree in art. Now you're a comic book artist, dating your childhood best friend. Everything is perfect. But Jake knows a way it could be even more perfect. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. Pulling out the death star ring box he has had since he was eighteen.

He sits it on your leg. Not saying a word. You pick it up and he tenses under you. You open it. Looking at the two sliver bands. You pick up the smaller one, noticing the words 'I know' printed on the inside. You grab the other ring, and it says, 'I love you'. You immediately realize that he printed what Leia said to Han in the rings. Your heart sinks, your throat tightening and tears coming to your eyes. The rings are Stars Wars, and the box is as well. Even though he doesn't like it, he did it for you.

Tears fall from your eyes, and he looks at you confused. You hand him your ring, looking into those emerald eyes. "Yes." You say softly.

He didn't think it was even possible for his body to tense even more, but it does. He moves his head back to look at you better. His eyebrows furrowing.

You chuckle, "Don't make me change my mind." You tease. He clears his throat. Breathing deeply. His body starts to relax as he takes your hand in his. Sliding the ring onto your finger. Before you can say anything, he smashes his lips onto yours. His hold on you tightening. Holding you impossibly close to him.

You finally pull away from him to catch your breath. Looking into his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Mrs. Seresin... It's got a ring to it." His words make your smile grow. He holds and loves you the rest of the night. Never letting go of you.

[libraryofloveletters]

Always You

Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: childhood crush, alcohol and the consumption of, carlos is ever so chivalrous, confession of a crush, slightly nervous carlos cause he probably lacks rizz as the kids say these days.

Word Count: 929

Author's Note: childhood crush always fits carlos, you can't tell me otherwise.

--

The infamous Sainz Christmas party. Every year your parents dragged you along and you only went to see one person. Your motives for going haven’t strayed despite growing up. 

The Sainz Christmas Party; every year for as long as you can remember, you'd find yourself in their living room on Christmas evening.

Your parents were friends with the Sainz family, which left you to fend for yourself when you were there. You knew their children, Ana, Blanca and Carlos.

You were closest to Carlos in age, the two of you only being 3 years apart but you never really spoke. It was a hello and how are you as he passed by on his way to his friends.

As much as you hated the whole affair and your parents offered to let you stay home, you didn't.

One person in particular held your attention; Carlos - the same guy who barely gave you the time of day.

Over the years, you became quite fond of him, admiring him from afar. You knew of each other, you were friendly but you weren’t friends or anything like that. You keep up with his career and you two are grown now.

Carlos had recently turned 30 and you were 27 this year - he was at Ferrari and you had found yourself a job as an editor, the exact thing you wanted to do.

Despite your grown age, your parents brought you along to the Sainz Christmas party; not that you minded.

It was well underway at this point, dinner was had and now the drinks and conversation was flowing. You did enjoy it to some degree, Reyes out did herself with the decorations each year. A new theme for a new chapter of their lives, different colours and designs carefully thought out and placed around the massive house.

A habit you developed over the years, as long as you had a glass of something in your hand, people would leave you alone. Your glass was empty and you find your way to refill it before someone pulls you into a conversation you did not want to have.

"Looking for something?" The voice comes from behind you, you hadn't seen anyone in the kitchen when you stepped in but you turned to find Carlos behind you.

"Just some wine."

Carlos nods, picking up the bottle and walking over to you. You half expected him to hand you the bottle and leave but he refills your glass, then his own before setting the bottle down. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" He offers out of the blue.

"Uh, sure."

He gestures for you to step out of the open that was cracked open, leading out into the dark yard. Carlos's hand rests on your lower back gently, as if to guide you - he does exactly that.

Just because you were outside doesn't mean there was an exception to the decorations. The trees were lined with lights, wreaths hung on each door that you passed.

Carlos stops in front of a bench and you take that as your cue to sit. You do, the chill breeze sends a shiver down your spine.

A sip of your wine was taken in hopes of warming you out but there wasn't much hope there.

He seems to notice your shivering, setting his glass down before slipping off his jacket. Carlos carefully slips it over your shoulders.

"You didn't-" "I can't sit by and let you freeze, my mother raised me better than that."

You hum, thanking him quietly as you two drank your wine in silence. It was you that broke the silence; "you were fantastic this year."

"Thank you," he smiles, his cheeks flushed red the tiniest bit but the chilled air and wine to be blamed for that. "I didn't know you watched."

"I try too, I keep up when I'm not busy with work." You tell him, looking around the yard.

Carlos takes that moment to look at you; red dress that suited your complexion and body as if it was made for you and you only, your makeup and hair done to a T - something he always admired about you, all tied together with the black bow that held up half of your hair.

"Y/n," he whispers into the silence.

Glancing at the man, you jut your chin towards him. "Hm?"

"You look beautiful."

Now your cheeks have flushed red and you both know it's not the wine nor the cold wind blowing around the yard. "Thank you." You whispered.

"It's my favourite look, y'know."

Head cocked to the side, you looked over at him. "What is?"

"When you get all red and quiet, it's sweet. You look so.. innocent."

You can't help the giggle, shaking your head. "You almost sound nervous there, Carlos."

"I am," he chuckles, chewing at his bottom lip for a moment.

"No way," you laughed, nudging his shoulder with yours. "You ? Nervous? No way."

Carlos nods, smiling at you. It falls quiet between the two of you, the bells from the cathedral ring, signalling that evening mass was over. His hand rested next to yours on the bench, his pinky brushing against yours. You take the soft touch as a cue to interlock your fingers with his.

He squeezes your hand gently, smiling at you.

"¡Carlos! ¿Dónde estás?" (carlos! where are you?) You can hear Reyes shout from around the corner, her voice carrying through the silence.

Carlos takes that as his cue to head in, his hand still interlocked with yours as he stands. He leans down, his lips pressed to yours for a quick kiss.

Your cheeks are as red as the lipstick that was faint against his lips.

"Feliz Navidad, y/n."

[chubbyreaderchan]

Pinky Promises | Michael Myers x F!Reader

Summary: Michael’s childhood friend finds her way back into his life. He becomes obsessed with her when he remembers their promise to each other. 

1, 2, 3, 4 (???? Maybe) 

A/n: This is actually going to be a series I finish. I have part 2 halfway written already and I think it will be about 3/4 parts. The warnings won’t apply to this one other than the childhood trauma of being torn from the best friend, but in future parts, they will both be adults and there will be adult content that I will label at the beginning. 

Also, there will be yandere situations with Michael and reader is morally grey as an adult. 

--

"Michael!" 

The small boy turned his head and stands from the dirt pile the young boy was playing in. He walked to the chain link fence and looked down the sidewalk at a young girl running towards him. She pushed a bright pink baby buggy towards his house and he tried not to smile. 

"Hi," she giggled, out of breath before Michael. 

"Hi," he repeated after her. 

His fingers gripped the cold metal wires and he peers at what was in the stroller. Often she'd bring a variety of toys in the familiar vehicle. Wooden swords, "cooking" dishes, and her baby doll that she called Mickey Jr. 

"Do you wanna play with me again today?" She asked with a bright smile on her face. 

His heart pounded in his chest at her cheeky grin. He looked up at her, nodding before unlatching the fence with a clink. The sound of metal against the sidewalk seemed to harmonize with the sound of wind chimes in the late summer afternoon. 

"Do you want to play mommies and daddies? Or--" 

Her toys were strewn about the Myer's front yard. Michael was holding tight to the small doll in his hands, following anything that the small girl had planned for him. 

He simply nodded. 

Just as Michael passed the doll to (Y/n) a car pulled up in front of the house. Judy and he boyfriend exited the dark blue car, he pinched at Judy and she giggled as they raced up to the house. 

"Hey, Mikey," the boyfriend cooed. "Is this your little girlfriend?" 

"Come on, Danny. Before my parents get home," Judy said tugging him into the house. 

Michael looked at (Y/n) his head cocking to the side at the word Danny used. 

-- 

"Michael!" The shrill voice filled his ears again. 

"Do you want to look at clouds with me today?" She asked, cocking her head to the side slightly once she was in front of his house. 

He popped open the gate again and she grinned. Michael's heart fluttered as she dropped to the ground. Her feet were bare and caked in dirt. Her toes wiggled against the grass as the found the perfect spot for cloud watching, not far from either of their houses. 

"We were planting a tree in our backyard," she said when she noticed he was staring at he toes. Then she spun and flopped to the ground with a laugh. 

Michael stiffly sat down and laid next to her. He froze when he felt the slightly taller girl cuddle up to his side and rested her head on his shoulder. 

The boy felt his face heat up, and her hand tangled with his. 

She squeaked in delight as she pointed at clouds above them with her free hand. 

"Look that one looks like a pumpkin," she giggled. 

He didn't look. 

He was looking at her. That was until she looked at him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

"I love you Michael," she whispered. 

She smelled like fruity candy and honey shampoo. 

"When we are all grown up, can we get married?" She asked, looking at him. 

He looked at the sky, thoughtful for a moment. 

"Yes," 

"Pinky promise?" She held up her pinky. 

He hooked his into hers. 

"Promise," 

A big smile cracked along her face and Michael's heart pounded in his chest. 

--

Fall was in full swing. 

Michael could hear screaming. At first he thought it was just another Halloween prank. But then (Y/n) was running down the street screaming.

Her parents on her tail as she ran to Michael pushing the gate open and running to where he was standing on his porch. 

"Don't let them take me, Michael" she shouted, pulling him into her vice grip. 

He returned it, protective hold even at the age of six he was quite strong. 

"We are moving to California. I don't want to move. I don't wanna!" She said. 

Her parents' hands moved to pry them away. Michael felt his own mother and sister grab him. 

"No!" She screamed, piercing his ears and sending ice into his veins. Her tears tracked down her cheeks and his heart went numb. 

"Michael don't let them take me," 

He reached for her hand and she was torn from his grip. 

"Michael!" 

"Daddy let me go! We pinky promised," she shouted.

[sweetestofchaos]

you can stay | l.fl x reader

Emotion's running high My hands planted on your thighs You feel me going up and down And round and round and round

❅ felix x reader

❅ prompt: “I’ve decided we’re not leaving this bed.” “Okay but, what if I get hungry?” “Well, I’d feed you, then take you back to bed with me. Does that sound alright?”

❅ wc: 1k (90 words over)

❅ warnings: fluff - smut - kissing - dirty talk - pet name (doll) - riding - needy/whiny Felix - unprotected sex - romeo & juliet reference

❅ a/n: written for Merry Chaosdays 1K Follower Event, requested by @jjungkookislife. B!!! thank you for keeping me busy. I have enjoyed your requests so much. I hope you enjoy this new year and thank you for being a friend! also, please excuse my poor attempt at humor...i'm bad at it lol

❅ lyrics from makin' good love by avant

❅ fuzzy line, bows, mdni and support dividers made by @benkeibear

❅ send in your own requests here

It was late. A little after midnight when your phone chimed and lit up the darkness of your room. You had just turned off your laptop for the night and decided to head to bed but the chime was set for only one person. You couldn’t ignore a text from your loving boyfriend knowingly before bed. Rolling over to your side, you reached out and grabbed your phone from the nightstand beside you. As you lifted the phone, the screen lit up and you cursed as the brightness blinded you for a moment. Blinking a few times, you read the message.

Lix: U up?

You rolled your eyes and tapped the notification before you responded to his text, letting him know that you just got into bed.

Lix: Look out the window?

You raised an eyebrow at how quickly he texted you back. You were sure that Felix was out of town at an award show. Sighing, you glanced at the window in your room. You have a great view of the town you lived in and you could see rooftops all covered in snow. You shivered at the thought of the cold. You really didn’t want to get out of bed and you told Felix as much.

Lix: Please 🥺

Huffing you climbed out of bed and whined as your feet touched the plush carpet and not your house slippers. You must have left them over at your desk. Standing, you grabbed your phone and clutched it to your chest as you made your way over to the window. Peaking out, you saw nothing, just the vast whiteness of the snow and the large tree from your childhood that stood proud in the yard. You squinted and looked around, in the middle of your lawn, you saw something that wasn’t there before. A heart was carved into the snow and it made you smile for a second before you clicked your tongue. Pushing open the window, you hung halfway out as you scanned your yard.

“Ya! Get in the window, crazy!”

You looked right below your window and your eyes widened. Standing there in all his glory was your boyfriend, Felix. He looked like a prince with how he was dressed. A cream, white and gold outfit with a matching jacket thrown over his shoulders. His blond hair was parted down the middle and tucked behind his ears while his long bangs framed his face.

“O Felix, Felix! Wherefore art thou Felix?”

You heard his snickering from down below and giggled to yourself.

“Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a commoner.”

“Oi!” Felix shouted as you stared down at him from above. “I am in love with such a commoner!” 

You watched unblinking as Felix started to scale the tree out front of your window. It was something he had done a million times before but you never saw him do it while dressed so nicely or in the snow. As he reached the tree branch that hung close to your window, Felix grinned as he sat on top of it.

“Fair maiden, are you gonna let me in or naur?” 

You backed away from the window and held your breath and Felix climbed into your room. The moment his shoes touched the floor, the snow started to melt and form a small puddle on the floor. Felix shook his head, water droplets from the snow flying everywhere. You screamed and Felix giggled before he took his shoes and jacket off. You quickly closed the window and turned to face Felix with your arms crossed over your chest. Now standing before you in his socks, Felix wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close; his eyelashes dark against his beautiful freckles. 

“Hey, love.”

Warmth sank into your heart as Felix rested his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes. You unfolded your arms and draped them over his shoulders, how could you ever be mad at this man? Felix grinned and brushed his nose lightly against yours before his lips captured yours in a tender kiss. Your hands found their way to his hair and Felix groaned as you pulled at his roots, taking steps backwards towards your bed. Layer after layer was peeled from Felix and your body. Your breath came out in pants, warm and hot as Felix’s fingers dug into your skin and held you close.

Felix let you push him onto the bed, his member flushed and hard against his stomach. He licked his lips and moaned as he watched you crawl onto the bed, your eyes darkened by the need to have him underneath you. Straddling his lap, you teased the head of his leaking cock, rolling your hips and letting it slide between your wet folds.

“Oi, don’t be a tease now doll.” 

You smirked at Felix’s words and fisted the base of his cock, holding him in place as you sunk down.

“Fuuuuck!” Felix’s moan vibrated underneath you and his hands started to rub up and down your thighs, gripping your ass and squeezing your hips. “Look so pretty riding me.” He hissed as your walls tightened around him and threw his head back into the pillows. So much of his neck was exposed and your mouth started to water. What a nice canvas to work with. Leaning forward, you nipped at Felix’s throat and he smacked your ass in warning. You knew better than to leave visible marks, but it still was fun to tease him.

“I’ve decided we’re not leaving this bed.” You whispered in his ear, taking the lob between your teeth lightly.

Felix shuttered and turned his head to look at you with wide eyes. His face was flushed, his chest heaving as he tried to understand your words. Giggling, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lip and started to bounce on his dick.

“O-Okay but, what if -” Felix whimpered as your nails sunk into the skin of his chest. “I-I get hungry?”

The question caught you off guard and you stopped moving. Felix blinked up at you with wet eyes and you cooed, stroking his face with the back of your hand.  “Well…” You tap your chin in mock thought. “I’d feed you, then take you back to bed with me. Does that sound alright?”

Felix nodded his head quickly and pulled you into a heated kiss, “Yes, doll. Sounds good. N-Now fuck yourself on my cock.”

[vodika-vibes]

If you’re still taking asks for the 500 followers event, could I suggest topaz with Fives in autumn? Maybe something to do with playing around in fallen leaves, but I leave the rest to your imagination!! Go as wild as you’d like :)

Colors of Fall

Summary: When the leaves start to fall from the trees, you know that it’s going to fall on you to clean them up. A chore you’ve hated since childhood. Luckily, Fives is more than happy to keep you company.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x GN!Reader

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Word Count: 579

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not so sure about this one, but I hope you like it anyway! I, personally, always hated having to deal with the leaves in the fall, but that's because I have a thing about my hands getting dirty.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” You say with a small smile as you lean a pair of rakes against the siding of your house, “I hate having to do this.”

Fives grins at you as he kicks some leaves around, sending them flying. “It’s not a problem, beautiful. I’m happy to help. I’m a helper.”

“So I see,” You joke as the leaves settle around him, and on him, “I’m guessing you’ve never done this before?”

“You guessed right.”

“So, basically, we’re going to rake the leaves into a pile, and then put them into bags to be sent to a compost heap.” You explain as you hand him a rake.

“Alright…why? What’s wrong with just leaving them?”

You open your mouth to reply, and then hesitate, “I don’t know. But if I don’t do it then my dad will find out and I’ll get yelled at, so-”

“You do realize that you’re an adult, right? If he yells at you, you can just hang up.” He glances at you, and then laughs at the look on your face, “Let me guess, your dad still sees you as a ten year old?”

You fling a handful of leaves at him, “Maybe.”

He flings a handful of leaves right back at you, “So that’s a yes then. Man must hate that you have a boyfriend.”

Your face heats and you avert your eyes.

“Cyare,” Fives drags the nickname out, “Your family does know that you have a boyfriend, right?”

Your face heats even more, “They don’t not know.”

He looks, ridiculously, thrilled by that fact as he drops the rake and sweeps you into a tight hug, spinning you around. “Cyare, am I your dirty little secret?”

“You’re hardly little,” You scoff, “And I’m not keeping you a secret, I just…don’t want to deal with all of the questions.” You yelp when Fives falls backwards into the massive pile of leaves from the front yard, sending leaves sending orange and red and yellow flying around your.

“What kinda questions?” Fives asks as he gets comfortable in the pile of leaves, his arms snug around your waist.

You huff out a breath, though there’s a grin on your lips, “You know. How did you meet him? How long have you been dating? Are you planning on marrying him?”

He sits up, with you settled on his lap, “Ah, those questions.”

“Yeah.”

“Easy answers, really.” He grabs a massive handful of leaves and pours them over your head, causing you to sputter and laugh.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Hold on, I gotta get you covered in leaves.”

“Why?” You ask with a laugh as you push a leaf out of your face.

“So we can take a picture, obviously. What better way to announce that you have a boyfriend than with a picture of us covered in leaves and you breathless with laughter.”

You grin at him and press your hands against his cheeks, “I love you, you ridiculous man.”

“I know,” He looks smug about it, so you drop some leaves on his head, pulling laughter from him. “I love you too.” He finally says.

He pulls you in and presses his lips against yours, and you sigh into the kiss as you lean into him. “We really do need to clean all this up.” You murmur against his lips.

“In a minute.” He replies as he tightly squeezes your hips, “We can enjoy this for now.”

[grievedeeply]

the less time, the better. pt 4.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: heimdall takes some time to attempt to unpack his feelings. feeling guilty for leaving without saying goodbye, you decide you want to visit your family back at home to explain your choice to go to asgard.

notes: sorry for no heimdall x reader interactions this time buuuut we get atreus. next chapter will prob be similar to this, but i need to keep them apart for a bit so heimdall can think LOL. also, this one is shorter than the other chapters but i don't really care i just wanted to write. this is a bit of a filler anyways LOL

it had taken a bit of consideration, but you had decided to return home to your family. not seeing your brother had an effect on you, and you began to worry about them. you knew they would be worrying about you. you left without a word. you could only wonder how mad your father would be with you, but that was something you would have to deal with when you got there.

you pushed the door open to odin's study, holding your hands together in front of you. you felt almost.. anxious to ask to go home. it wasn't like you were leaving anything important behind in asgard. you brushed the nervousness aside, greeting odin with a thin lipped smile.

"ah. just the person i wanted to see," he said without even looking up from his desk. "we have big things to do. much to accomplish. you still need to make your trip to niflheim, remember?" he finally glanced up at you as he spoke, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "you're not here for that, are you?" he chuckled, standing up from his seat. he moved around the table to stand in front of you, his hands resting on your shoulders. if you didn't know better, you would think he cared about you.

your thoughts moved to his sons. thor, a man torn apart by his father's judgement of him, who only used him for his strength and power. baldur, who died in part because of him. heimdall.. you didn't even know where to start when it came to him. it felt like there was more underneath his glamorous outer shell, but you didn't need to figure that out anytime soon.

"no," you shook your head, "i'd like to go home. visit my family." you told him, and all he did was hum. "you're free to do so. though.. i do need that," he pointed to the mask that hung from your belt with his finger, "back before you go." you took it off, handing it over to him with no hesitation.

"huginn will be waiting for you at your home in midgard when you decide to return." he told you, ravens beginning to swirl around you as they had done so many times in the past. "oh.. and tell mimir i said hello." you said nothing back, and you appeared in your childhood home.

if you focused hard enough, you swore you could feel your mother's presence again.

you closed your eyes, taking in the cool air once more. you turned your attention to huginn, who only cawed at you. "you might he waiting a while." you muttered, the door creaking as you pushed it open. you trudged through the snow, making your way to the mystic gateway that sat in your front yard.

you looked forwards, only being met with a gaping chasm in the ground. it only made you think of baldur, and of odin. you hated that. you remembered fighting him all those years ago.. how desperate he was to feel. how much he hated freya. you remembered it all, and sometimes you wished you didn't.

you opened the door, and stepped onto the branches of the world tree. it had been what felt like forever since you'd been through them, and the closer you came to home the tighter your chest felt. you missed them. you could only hope everything went okay in your absence.

another doorway appeared in front of you, and you found yourself in sindri's yard. ratatoskr was nowhere to be found, which wasn't something that surprised you. he was almost always busy, but you couldn't help but to wonder if he kept his word.

you took in a breath, pushing open the door to sindri's house after a moment of brief hesitation.

"kid?" brok's voice called out, and he took a few quick steps towards you. "you're back!" his volume increased as he spoke, "you are back.. ain't ya?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked up at you suspiciously. nice to know some things never change. you laughed, "i'm back."

"good. other kid's been worried sick. your dad, too." he told you, and you pursed your lips. this was exactly what you didn't want, but you knew it would happen. "where are they?" he shrugged his shoulders, "how am i supposed to fuckin' know?" he retorted. you rolled your eyes.

"nice to have you back." he spoke again after a pause, and you smiled down at him. "thanks, brok." you turned your attention away from him and to atreus' room. that's where he would be if he weren't out with your father.

you knocked, letting out a shaky breath. "what?" his voice called back from the other side of the door, and you frowned at the sound of it. you let him down, didn't you? you pushed open the door, and he stood up at the speed of light, holding his hands out to try to close it again. he froze, his mouth falling open at the sight of you.

he took another step, his arms wrapping around your waist without saying a word. you practically melted into his touch. your little brother's hugs were always the best. you rubbed his back, bending down a little to be closer to his height. not like you need to, anymore. he was getting taller every day, it seemed like.

"you went to asgard, didn't you?" he asked, his voice quieter than he'd ever been before. you nodded, "yeah. i did."

"why?"

"you know why, atreus." you whispered with pursed lips. he knew. he just didn't like that you left him. you knew that, too. he was still just a kid. you forgot that, sometimes.

"you should've taken me with you." he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. "oh, atreus," you pulled away from the hug, trying to look into his eyes. you sat his hands on his shoulders. he avoided even looking at you. "i missed you too." you told him.

"you aren't staying." he said, and you bit at the inside of your cheek. "no. i'm not. i need to go back. i'm getting close. i can feel it." you assured him, squeezing his shoulders. "stop." he whispered.

"what?"

"stay."

"you know i can't. i need to do this."

"you don't need to do anything alone!" atreus raised his voice, and you sighed. you closed your eyes. "i know. and i would've loved for you to come with me, atreus. you're my best friend. my partner in crime," you chuckled, "but i couldn't risk you getting hurt. me going was enough on father, don't you think?"

atreus swallowed. he was growing into a brave man.. and you couldn't be prouder. "how was it?" he asked after a moment of silence, and you managed to smile. he would understand why you went on your own fully some day, but this was enough for you for now.

"it was.. interesting. i thought about you a lot, you know." you chuckled, tussling his hair with one of your hands. "stop." atreus laughed, leading you back out of his room and into the main area of the house.

"met thor's daughter, thrúd. you'd like her." you told him, pulling out a chair at the wooden table in the middle of the room to sit down in. "thor's daughter?" he raised an eyebrow, "i'd like her?" he shook his head. "she's aesir."

"she's a good kid. you'd like her. trust me." you shrugged your shoulders, taking in the feeling of being home again. "where's father?"

"vanaheim. he should be back, soon." he told you. "why aren't you with him?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "he's with freya. they're helping her brother with.. something. i don't know what."

you fell into silence, leaning back against the uncomfortable texture of the wood you sat in. "freya?" you raised an eyebrow, last you knew she was wanting to kill him. "yeah." was all he said in response. you said nothing else about it.

"how's he holding up?" you asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"he's definitely not happy. but.. i guess he's okay."

somehow, you knew atreus was telling the truth. your father would understand why you left, even if it made him angry at first. he had to have calmed down a bit by now, and it would be easier to face him whenever he came back. unless you left before he arrived.

"i'll stay. until he gets back. i need to talk to him."

"your funeral." atreus shrugged, throwing a fruit into his mouth that had sat in a bowl on the table.

you had a lot of catching up to do.

you'd let yourself forget about asgard. just for a little while.

it was quiet without you around.

he should be happy about that, shouldn't he? happy that a giant was out of his home, even if it would be for a short amount of time. though, a part of him felt.. different about your absence.

it had already been a few days since you'd left, but he found himself expecting you to be in the mess hall or training— but you were never there. he should be happy about it.

it was too quiet.

it's not like you were loud physically, but your presence was. people knew you were there, and they spoke often about you, even after you'd left. he would hear people speaking of the giant odin brought into asgard, and every time he heard their words, he thought of how you embarrassed him.

you beat him. he remained at a loss. no one else had ever harmed him before. he still didn't know how to react to it. he was curious, but it seemed like you didn't even know how you'd hit him.

'i don't know. just did.' you said to him, weeks ago at this point. you had been in asgard for that long already? it didn't feel like it, at least not to him.

what was that pounding in his chest? it only occurred whenever he thought of you. your stupid.. beautiful.. face, plaguing his mind. he couldn't think of a giant in that way. he couldn't think of you that way. he knew who your father was, and he knew full well what he and the rest of your dastardly family had done over the years. killing thor's sons.. baldur. he had to force himself to remember them.

he didn't care about them too much, anyways. though.. he remembered magni and modi in their younger years. they'd loved him. he remembered them wanting him to fight him, and they would be impressed every time he dodged their child-like swings. they were tiny, then. now, they were gone.

baldur was nothing special, not in his eyes. he thought of forseti— his son. he remembered how he reacted when he found out.

.. you didn't kill them. your father did.

that wasn't you.

he took in a sharp breath, running his hands through his unbraided hair. what was he doing? thinking of you in this way was.. wrong. it was.

'you falling for me, pretty boy?'

your voice.. your tone, sultry and seductive, rang through his ears. he felt your hips in his hands.. he felt you.

what was wrong with him?

was he falling for you?

he let out a breath, tugging at the ends of his hair as he did all those weeks ago when you'd embarrassed him in the courtyard of the great lodge.

he pictured you.

your smile, your eyes.

his heart rate picked up.

this couldn't be happening.

he thought of you again. your kindness, even towards him, when he'd treated you horribly. he thought of your teasing, your voice whispering in his ears as he sat with you in the mess hall.

there was something wrong with him.

you were a giant.

he clenched his jaw.

a part of him wanted to never see you again.

the other.. the other wanted you all to himself.

he gave in to the latter.

he had feelings for you, as unnatural as they were. you were impressive, brave, strong, intelligent, capable.

as much as he thought he hated it— hated you— for making his chest feel the way it did..

his heart pounded against his ribcage.. and this time, he didn't mind.

tags: @graciegizmo3184 @anzanishira @chocokaylarobin @uncoveredsun @caelestis-lyrae @prio-motu @bluehorizon987 @freyrees @ieatmarbles @rohansregret @konigd1cks0ck @smilesdarling @multifand0m-gal0re @huan-chan @rustypotatospork @onlydeas @luna-charlie @orangeflavouredwitch @hayleethefrog @dott-up @imcomingforyourskin @itsnat-bitch @mimothemoth @elizabeth-hatake @spacexplosion @fandomcatchall @ss-kimo @sinfulmatt @lacm-ac @iinterdimensionals @thatspookyagent @kiss-kae @twiistedspades @closet-creature @shawtylikamelody @judyfromfinance @hobistangerine @aikochan4859 @whywouldiknowstuff

[magalidragon]

we will always have the weirwood tree | a Things We Left Behind AU | teaser

Broken men break women. Jon Snow was broken. And Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful.

Happy Birthday @youwerenevermine !

This is the long awaited Lucian x Sloane AU. It had everything you love and more. Enemies-to-Lovers, Grumpy x Sunshine, second chance romance, feral Jon, badass Dany….WE LOVE IT ALL!

As I have already said I didn’t finish the first chapter and decided to go all in and just give you the full 10k smut chapter 😂 But until then, here’s a big teaser.

LOVE YOU BESTIE AND HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳 🎂 🎉 🎈 🎁 💕

Super sneak peek after the cut!

Jon took a deep breath and opened the door, unfolding himself from the Range Rover. A blast of frigid air pushed his coat back and he reached up to anxiously push back some of his unruly black curls. He didn't mind the cold; it suited him. He ignored buttoning up his coat and strode down the drive, crossed the yard, entered the godswood on one side, and went around the massive weirwood tree-- ignoring the worn branches that stepladdered up to the bay window that looked directly at his childhood bedroom-- out the back gate and around the edge of the house to the front porch.

He didn't even have his knuckles lifted to knock on the door when it exploded open and a silver-haired, elegantly coiffed man flew out, smacking into him. "Jon!"

"Vis," Jon sighed, patting the man's back. Vis was older than him by at least seven years, but there were times where he behaved far younger. He figured that he'd be a mess. Vis was never one to handle anything rationally or professionally. He carefully extricated himself while at the same time turning Vis around and marching him into the house. "You made it in alright?"

Vis wiped at his eyes, nodding. "Yes, the plane was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn't even bump me from business to first class, can you believe it? I didn't even get a lie-flat seat on the flight!"

"Sorry to hear, call me next time I would have had my plane get you."

A set of pale lilac eyes widened greedily, even through the grief etched on his thin, pointed face. "Oh? Well I will do that." He beckoned him into the house. "Come on in. We ordered pizza, but mine is without carbs."

Jon didn't even know what that was supposed to look or taste like. Ash, he expected, and he politely declined, holding his hand up even as Vis was trying to offer him a slice. "No thanks, I already ate."

A cool, icy voice floated down from the staircase behind him. "Don't you know Viserys, vampires don't eat actual food. He only drinks the blood of innocents."

<i>And there she was.</i>

He didn't even need to turn around. In fact, he thought if he did, his knees would either give out because of the intense <i>want</i> she invoked within him. Or he'd snap and say something he would regret because of the intense <i>fury</i> she also invoked in him. There had been no one in his life who could make him swing from emotion to emotion on either side of the pendulum except for her.

<i>Daenerys Targaryen</i>

Dany, to her friends. Satan's Majesty to him.

He held his breath, turning his head a fraction to glance at her, a bemused expression settling on his face. Tonight she wore fuzzy pink dragon slippers on her tiny feet, a pair of dragon scale-like leggings in vibrant purple, and an oversized Winterfell High Track and Field sweatshirt that had seen better days, the dark gray wolf mascot on the front almost white from so many washes. Her silver hair, the same shade as her brother's, was bound up in a variety of braided knots, some of it left loose to cascade over her shoulders. There were a few faded pink drinks within it, probably a remnant from an All Hallow's Eve costume a couple weeks ago.

Unlike her brother, her eyes were more vivid, lavender with a flame held over them. It matched the fire that was always bubbling under her surface, unleashed whenever she felt passionate about something. Which happened more often than not.

Daenerys was nothing, if not passionate.

Especially for the ones she loved.

And he hated her for it.

It was that same passion that betrayed him.

And he couldn't forgive that. Jon Snow <i>never</i> forgave and he <i>never</i> forgot.

Plus, she was the epitome of Before. And the reason for After.

The funny thing was, Dany frgave and forgot either. It made for some awkward encounters over the years. Encounters which always left him aching, wanting, sometimes <i>begging</i> for more. Things he had suppressed in himself over the years. Weaknesses. Failures. It was why he never came back here if he could help it and when he did, he tried to always avoid the house beside the weirwood tree.

Yet it seemed he'd been here more often than he ever had before, checking on things...on people. On Aemon.

Now Aemon was gone. But he as here, wasn't he? That's all Aemon could have hoped for at this rate. Even if he never had understood why his beloved great-niece and his beloved...whatever the fuck Jon was suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as each other without tearing each other's throats out.

He nodded to her. "Your majesty." He affected a fake bow, exaggerated and theatrical. He straightened, smirking at her, pushing down the surge of attraction. It seemed his body— notably his cock— had never received the memo that Daenerys Targaryen was off limits. She was the bane of his existence. She was the most obnoxious, annoying, infuriating, and downright ridiculous person he had ever met.

As she walked by, the top of her head barely at his eyesight, she scowled at him, giving him the finger. Her nails were purple with smiley faces on them. He hated them. "Fuck off, why are you even here? Vis, you know when you invite vampires into the house they can come in whenever they want."

[sparring-hyena]

all the way back.

time has a wonderful way of showing Becca what really matters.

OR, a childhood friends-to-lovers AU.

-

-

Becca’s parents divorce when she’s eight.

she doesn’t really understand what it means—all the nuance that goes with it—doesn’t even realise that that’s the word for it until later. all she knows for sure is that one day she wakes up and her mother tells her that they’re moving and that her father won’t be coming with them.

“there’s a park close to our new house,” her mother says while they’re in the car.

Becca hums, her sister sits happily in the booster seat beside her, watching the world flash by in the window as she kicks her little legs. Becca thinks Alexis understands less than her, thinks that’s probably for the best, and doesn’t understand why that makes her angry.

their new house is a lot smaller. it’s not as nice as their old one, but Becca sort of likes that her new bedroom is smaller and that she gets to share a bathroom with her mother and sister.

“i know it’s not much,” Shannon says as she stands with Becca in their empty home. “but i promise that this will all be okay.”

she doesn’t have a bedframe yet, but they go to the store and Becca picks out some fairy lights and her mother helps her strig them up around her room.

“are you okay?” Becca asks after that first day as her mum tucks her in. she’s never tucked her in before and she looks unsure of herself.

“i will be.” it’s honest, probably too much honesty for an eight-year-old. “are you?”

Becca shrugs as best she can with the blanket tucked right up to her chin.

“whatever you’re feeling is okay. we can talk about it when you’re ready. but just know that i love you so much. nothing will change that.”

the new house is louder and quieter all at once. there’s no more shouting, and Becca likes that she doesn’t have to creep from room-to-room to hear or not hear what her parents are yelling about. she likes that the yelling has stopped, that she can hear her sister playing on the floor in the kitchen while her mum cooks and she reads in her bedroom.

her mum seems sad sometimes, but happy too in an odd kind of way that Becca doesn’t understand. she wants to understand, wants to ask, but doesn’t. she keeps everything to herself for a while.

and then halfway through August, with her first day at her new school looming ahead, Becca meets her neighbour.

she plays outside in their backyard now. it’s not big—barely big enough for the old swing-set and small sandpit that Alexis likes to play in—but it’s enough. sometimes her mum comes out and plays with them.

“hey!”

Becca startles. she stops on the swing and looks around the yard but can’t see who spoke.

“up here!”

she looks up and spots a girl perched carefully in the large tree that hangs over the fence separating their yard from their back neighbours.

“wanna play?” she blows a piece of hair out of her face and wiggles further out onto the branch hanging over the fence.

“up there?”

the girl shrugs and wiggles further out again and then drops down into the yard right in front of Becca. she smiles wide and now that she’s closer, Becca can see her two missing front teeth.

“what are you doing?” Becca says, and she can hear a little of the iciness her mum used to have in her voice.

she quirks her head to the side just a bit. “playing?”

“you’re a stranger, and i—”

“Alex. my name is Alex.” she offers another toothy grin made slightly odd by her two missing teeth.

“okay.”

“so we can play?”

Becca nods, hesitation in her movements and hope in her heart that she’s maybe making a new friend.

Becca sits at the table that night for dinner and doesn’t stop talking about Alex once. her mum hums and nods and smiles sweetly as she listens and cuts Alexis’s food into smaller pieces. Becca feels warm all over.

summer ends a week and a half later and Becca starts the third grade at a new school. she learns that Alex goes to the same school but that she’s starting the second grade.

the sky outside is gloomy but the classroom Becca walks into is bright and colourful.

her new teacher, Miss Jones, crouches down to her level and introduces herself with a warm smile and warmer handshake that makes Becca feel like a grown up in a good way.

Becca sits beside a girl, Madison. she doesn’t say much to Madison, but Madison says plenty to her and makes Becca feel like this isn’t her first day at a new school.

she sees Alex near the handball courts during recess and wants to go say hi, but she’s surrounded by a group of friends, and they look like they’re having fun. Becca doesn’t want to ruin that. and then Madison runs up to her and asks her to come play on the monkey bars.

by the end of the day, Madison declares them best friends.

Alex is perched carefully in the tree by the time Becca gets home that afternoon and runs outside to meet her.

“was your first day good?” Alex asks as she drops down onto the grass in front of Becca.

“i made a new friend in my class. her name’s Madison and she sits beside me. she asked me if i want to hang out after school too.”

“that’s good,” Alex says.

“she said we’re best friends now.”

“am i still your best friend too?”

“yes. you’re…” and Becca doesn’t really know how to put it into words at eight years old. Madison is her best friend, and Alex is something else entirely. something different but no less important.

Becca surges forward and hugs Alex tightly. she doesn’t understand why she hugs Alex or why it feels so nice when Alex hugs her back just as tight.

“are you okay?” Alex asks.

Becca nods and presses her nose into Alex’s neck. she thinks for the first time that she’s not okay but that she might be in time.

she doesn’t understand much when she’s eight, but then she turns ten and starts to understand a little bit more.

Becca wakes up just after midnight in Alex’s bed that can’t really fit both of them anymore.

“hey,” Alex breathes into the space between them.

Becca blinks, tries to adjust her eyes to the dark. “what time is it?”

“midnight,” Alex says and Becca can hear excitement in her voice now. “happy birthday.”

“oh.” Becca sinks into the pillow, and doesn’t understand why she gets so much comfort in the smell of Alex all around her. a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “thank you.”

“i got you something.” Alex leans off the side of the bed and grabs something from underneath it before she pops back up with a small present in her hand.

Becca sits up now too. “you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“i know but i saw it and wanted you to have it.”

Becca opens the present carefully and after a moment where she doesn’t breathe and Alex looks like she’s about to explode with giddy energy, there’s a thin bracelet in her hand. the kind that will stain your skin a little green if you wear it for too long.

“i know it’s not much,” Alex starts, “but i wanted to use my money to get you something and… well… do you like it?”

“will you put it on for me?”

Alex beams and Becca doesn’t need any light to see that.

it takes a while for her to fall back asleep after that. Alex passes out almost immediately after promising to try stay awake so they can talk and gossip and share stories into the early hours of the morning. Becca doesn’t mind.

Alex drools a little in her sleep and Becca thinks it’s gross but can’t find it in herself to wish for anything else to be different.

Becca doesn’t see her dad at all on her tenth birthday. but for the first time since moving into their new house, she doesn’t mind.

her mum seems happier too. but there are still days where she won’t talk much. where she looks just a little bit too tired to laugh it off as a bad night of sleep. they’re always the days after birthdays or holidays or family days where calls to her dad remain unanswered and unreturned.

she’s twelve when Alex whispers to her that her parents are getting divorced.

“my dad doesn’t live here anymore,” Alex says, the confession sudden and sitting in the space between them like something cold and unwanted.

and for the first time in years, Becca thinks she might have someone who understands. her mum gets what she’s feeling in an abstract kind of way, but she’s carrying her own extra baggage so it’s not quite the same. and Alexis was too young to ever know the difference, and Becca is trying not to resent her for it.

but Alex… they’ve talked about it before, mostly Becca rambling and raising her voice. never at Alex though, she would never, but it always just sort of happens when she talks about her dad.

“do you miss him?” Becca asks, silly, she knows. because when Alex had asked her that same question years ago now, she had felt shame when she whispered a yes in answer.

Alex nods, plays with Becca’s fingers, and avoids making eye contact. “does it ever go away?”

“i think…” Becca watches her fingers moving with Alex’s and gets distracted for a second. “i think it gets easier to live with. i hate my dad for leaving, but i love our new life without him.”

and that’s the first time Becca’s said it out loud. she’s always alluded to it, and she thinks Alex has always probably known, but it feels better actually giving life to the words.

“and i don’t think your dad is anything like mine,” Becca says after a beat. “i think he’ll still want to see you all the time.”

and then Becca wraps Alex in a hug, tight like the one when she was eight and terrified and hopeful and so uncertain.

the dying sunlight casts a pretty glow over Alex’s face when they separate, and Becca thinks she feels the flicker of deep understanding in her heart before it vanishes again.

but something stays, hums beneath her skin, thunders through her veins. a promise of something more waiting ahead.

she's fifteen when Alex drops nervously into her backyard from the tree. Becca still finds it odd that Alex does this—climbing the tree like they're eight and seven again—but loves it and can't find the words to express it to her.

Becca quirks her head to the side just a bit when Alex doesn't greet her with her usual energy and zest for life.

"okay, i'll bite," Becca shifts so they're facing each other, knees touching, "what's up?"

"nothing."

Becca nudges Alex's knee with her own.

"okay, it's not nothing, it's just... Chris asked me to hang out after school tomorrow and i thought it was, like, a friend thing, so i mentioned it to Kaitlyn and then she got weird about it and said it was a date. even James was being weird about it."

"oh, i didn't— do you like Chris?"

and it's strange that Becca doesn't know the answer to that question. they've been something parallel to best friends for years now, and never once in that time have they talked about crushes.

years from now, Becca will understand everything about that subconscious choice and line in the sand, and how she hadn't realised she'd buried hope for something else deep in her chest.

she understands absolutely nothing about that in this moment though. not the angry coil she feels tighten in her stomach or deafening echo she can hear in her ears.

what she does understand is that Chris likes Alex. Kaitlyn likes Alex. and James probably does too.

Alex shrugs. "as a friend, yes. as... i dunno, that, i have no idea. how am i supposed to know?"

Becca doesn't answer right away, because even though she does sort of know how you know—she's talked about it with Madison—putting it all into words for Alex just seems so impossible.

"i think sometimes not knowing is part of it," Becca finally says. "like you're supposed to just give it a go and figure out what liking someone is supposed to feel for you."

"oh, okay." Alex nods and meets Becca's gaze. "so do you think i should hang out with him after school tomorrow?"

"yes," Becca says with a shrug, and it will take her a while to figure out why she hates herself for saying that.

they don't say anything much for the rest of the afternoon. they exist together quietly and do their homework in Becca's room when it gets too cold to stay outside. and then just before Alex leaves so she can make her curfew, she hesitates and looks at Becca like there's something she's trying hard to understand as well.

they don't talk at all the next day, in fact, they don't really talk again for a while. Becca sees Alex and Chris holding hands out front the school a few days later. a week later she watches from beside Madison during lunch as Kaitlyn gets this pained look in her eyes every time she looks at Alex. it takes a month before she realises she hasn't seen James around Alex and Chris at the same time.

and then the school year ends and Becca's dad sweeps back into their lives with the promise of an exciting summer on the West Coast to make up for lost time.

she doesn’t tell Alex she’s leaving for three months. doesn’t say anything at all. Alexis makes one of those annoying comments that are surprisingly spot on about how she seems irritated.

Becca snaps at her sister, hates that she does, but just can’t help it. her dad says nothing though. Becca doesn’t even think he notices that something's growing inside of her. some mornings, Becca even thinks that her dad forgets he invited them to stay with him for the summer.

but it’s fine. Becca works on her tan on the beach while Alexis plays in the sand beside her. it works, and by the time she’s back, she hardly remembers being in such a sour mood to begin with.

Madison wraps Becca into a hug as soon as she arrives at school for the first day, and launches into a million questions about her trip. Becca smiles, answers them all, and hardly notices the thing humming beneath her skin when she catches Alex staring at her.

Chris is no where to be seen, and Kaitlyn and Alex are huddled close together by her locker. Becca says nothing to Alex, but she can't bring herself to look away just yet.

"did you hear me?" Madison says, amusement on her face.

"huh?" Becca shakes her head and finally tears her gaze away from Alex.

"i was asking if we're still on for the party on Saturday night."

"oh, yeah, of course."

Becca kisses Chris at the party on Saturday night and makes a point to make sure that Alex sees it. she doesn't understand why she does it, but she does understand that everything starts to slowly fall apart from that moment on.

Chris follows after her for weeks and months after that and Becca lets him. Becca talks to him and lets him put his arm over her shoulders when they eat lunch together.

she's not sure if she likes him yet. but she remembers what she said to Alex almost a year ago, about how they're learning how it feels to like someone.

all she really learns though, is that she doesn't like Chris, not like that anyway, because he is lovely to be around and talk to. but his arm doesn't feel right around her waist, and his hand feels too big in hers, and his lips against hers are just— she understands that it's not supposed to feel like this.

Becca tells Chris all of this—most of it, because all of it might hurt his feelings, and Becca does care about him—and he seems hurt for a while, but on the last day of January, Chris shows up at her front door.

"Chris?" Becca stares at him for a second, not quite believing, and then she steps outside with him and gently closes the door behind her. "what are you doing here?"

"i know we aren't, like” —he gestures his hands widely, searching for the right word— “together, anymore, and this isn't some ploy to try win you back."

"okay?" Becca folds her arms across her chest and she can hear some of the iciness returning to her voice.

"i just wanted to tell you that i get it," Chris says.

"get what, exactly?"

"why we didn't work. why we were never going to work."

"go home, Chris." Becca's already turning to head back inside, but then Chris reaches for her arm so gently and carefully that she stops and turns back to listen.

"sorry, no, i didn't mean— i just think there's something that you're missing."

Becca says nothing, but her silence is enough encouragement for Chris to continue.

"i know you and Alex are, like, best friends, or were anyway."

"i— we..."

"i'm not asking for an explanation. you don't owe me one. but i noticed that you guys don't talk anymore."

"so?"

"i spent months trying to figure out how to ask Alex out. it was always you two together, even when you weren't together, it's like you still were. like no matter how hard i tried, she would never see me."

"well, she did. she went out with you. she dated you."

"yeah, and then she broke up with me while you were gone."

"oh, i thought..."

nothing, really. she knew that they had broken up—Madison had filled her in on everything she'd missed when she got back—but Becca had never really thought about why or how. she thought they'd just fizzled out.

"i didn't know that," Becca says.

"i figured. i think that's part of why i wanted you in the first place. because she didn't want me, and you two are— were close. if i could have you then it would be like having her."

and that hits Becca in the heart. stabs a knife into her and twists and presses in again and again. but beneath all the gushing pain, Becca thinks she understands because—

"and i think that's why you wanted me too."

Becca says nothing for a long time. she goes to sit on the front steps and after a moment, Chris sits beside her.

"assuming you're right, then that's pretty fucked up."

"yeah." Chris shrugs. "but i think it's supposed to be."

"how come?"

"because you have to realise how fucked it is and reconcile with it and make a choice that really scares you."

"assuming it's true," Becca says, and it feels pointless to say now.

"right."

"and assuming it is true," Becca says, "what choice would i have to make?"

she sees a warm smile light up Chris's face, and it instantly puts Becca's mind at ease.

"talk to her," Chris says like the answer is obvious and simple.

a few minutes later, Chris leaves and Becca stays outside in the cold for a little while longer. when she does finally go back inside, she's met with her mother standing in the entrance way.

"was that Chris here?" her mum asks.

"were you listening?"

her mum shrugs. "i heard part of it."

"which part?"

"the part where he thinks you should talk to Alex."

Becca nods and looks at anything except her mum standing there with her apron and whisk and looking like the warm mother she's spent years growing into. Becca doesn't realise she's crying until she's in a hug and her mum is whispering quiet reassurances into her ear.

she goes out to her backyard that night, long after her mother and sister both went to bed. Becca shivers against the cold but digs herself in firmly and refuses to budge.

she looks up to the stars that she can't see hidden behind the dark clouds and begs them to help her understand. the stars are quiet and Becca is left to figure it out for herself.

she's seventeen when she goes to a party and runs into Alex. Becca glares at her from across the room, grips her red solo cup just a little too hard that the cheap tequila-sprite mix in it spills up over the rim. because she understands more now, and she's almost certain that Alex has understood this whole time too.

"hey," Alex says, flashing that openly, earnest smile that has always managed to calm Becca in a way she can't explain.

"what are you doing here?" Becca spits, and that thing inside her, that thing that has been gently humming beneath her skin, begs her to take it back.

"it was an open invite. and i actually wanted to—”

"i don't care what you want."

hurt flashes in Alex's eyes. "i didn't mean—”

Becca doesn't stay to hear the rest of it. she turns on her heels and moves deeper into the party.

later in the night, when the music is pumping through Becca's veins and she's given up on drinking because nothing tastes good and it all just hurts, she goes upstairs to find the bathroom. the house is massive—a lot like the one she used to live in before her parents got divorced—rooms for the sake of adding space that won't ever actually be used.

it takes a while to find the door to a bathroom, and when she does, she stumbles inside and presses her back against the door, allowing it to close softly behind her. she slides down the door, looks up, and finally realises someone else is in here with her.

Alex. sitting in the bathtub. her legs hanging over the edge.

"what are you doing?" Becca says as she stands and straightens her skirt.

"i was here first."

"right, but why are you in the bathtub?"

"what do you care?"

Becca scoffs and rolls her eyes but gets into the empty bathtub and sits right beside Alex.

“what are you doing?” Alex asks.

“something’s obviously wrong.”

Alex just stares at her, studying and trying to understand.

“what?” Becca shifts, uncomfortable under the intensity of Alex’s gaze.

“why did you leave me?”

“i didn’t—”

“right after Chris. is it because you liked him? because if you had just told me i wouldn’t have gone out with him.”

“it’s not because i wanted Chris,” Becca snaps, because it hurts her and digs deep into her heart that Alex thinks she would choose Chris over her. “i never wanted him.”

“then why did you kiss him?”

and it’s in that moment that Becca realises just how close they are now. her side is pressed flush with Alex’s, their hands are daring to be the first to touch, and their lips. Becca watches Alex’s eyes fall to her lips and it’s like time stops and starts again all at once.

“i think you know why,” Becca says, her tone soft and open and ready for whatever big, scary thing is coming next.

“yeah, but i want you to say it.”

“i wanted you.”

Alex surges forward and closes the already small space between them. she cradles Becca’s face in both her hands and gently rubs her cheek with her thumb.

“it was always you,” Becca says when they finally pull apart for much needed air.

“when i first saw you, i thought you were the prettiest girl i’d ever seen. i knew i wanted to know you.”

“you’re a sap.”

“the sappiest.” Alex punctuates this with a kiss. “your sappiest sap.”

Becca hums and allows her head to fall gently against Alex’s shoulder.

“wanna get out of here and get some food?” Alex asks after a few long moments of comfortable silence.

“like a date?”

“not like a date. a date.”

“always.”

when Becca is eighteen, she walks the stage at her graduation and looks out into the crowd of proud parents and friends to find her mum, sister, and Alex sitting and cheering with them. her dad isn’t there. she hasn’t spoken to him since that summer where he forgot she existed everyday. and Becca thinks it’s perfect.

a year later, she goes back to her old high school and watches as Alex grabs her diploma too, with Alex’s parents sitting to her left, and her mum and sister on her right.

she thinks in that moment at nineteen that she finally understands everything she hadn’t growing up. there’s a lot more new stuff that she doesn’t understand now, but her favourite person smiles and waves at her from the stage, and in that moment, Becca thinks that’s okay.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Six

Guys! I'm sorry this is a few hours late! I threw myself into getting everything done early this morning so I can relax for the rest of the day, but here you go, update is here! I'm so pleased you're all enjoying it, thanks for the lovely feedback you've been kind enough to leave. I truly appreciate it :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Words - 3,572

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.

Even under the darkness of nightfall, the difference was stark. Riding onto his driveway at just gone 11pm, Guero killed the engine, climbing from his bike and removing his helmet, eyes widening at the front yard. The grass was immaculately mown and raked, the border edged, the tree trimmed, and path swept. Although he had all the necessary tools to do it, he’d only bothered twice since arriving.  

“Hey, fuckboy!” A flurry of curtains revealed Tyrone, chomping uncouthly upon a candy bar of some description as he stuck his head from the window. “You better get in there and give that fine assed girl of yours a damned good dickin’ in thanks. She been out there all afternoon, breakin’ her back!” 

“She ain’t my girl, homes,” he called back, still a little stunned at how good it all looked.  

“Whatchu mean, she ain’t your girl? Bro, you got that grade of hottie in yo’ crib and you ain’t tappin’ it? Pfft, what’s wrong with you? Crazy assed fuckboy.”  

“Later, Tyrone.” he called, letting himself into the house. Inside, his surprise only grew more, the immediate smell of freshness hitting him. Everything was pristinely clean, everywhere tidy, his eyes scanning further at the details. So that was what colour his tan couch was, beneath the ground in dust and dirt. Fuck, the leather sheened once more, and his carpet! It was actually fluffy again.  

Back when he’d moved in, he’d bought some storage baskets that had remained in their packaging, Guero having every intention to actually fill them, but never getting to it. Not only had she filled them but added a neatly written label to each.  

He had labels?! 

“Magazines, bits and pieces, dog toys.” He spoke, smiling, his eyes then taking in something he wasn’t expecting to see across the room; all of his dad’s vinyl collection and record player placed out on the unit, the hundreds of classic and modern rock albums, all catalogued alphabetically. Everything was organised, and beautifully so.  

Little did she know that they’d remained in boxes for a reason, Guero not able to face removing them all, being reminded of memories from his childhood. He sorely missed those days, his dad cranking out Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Soundgarden, to name but four of Ibarra’s favourites, all at window rattling decibels. 

“Emma? Where you at?” he called, the bathroom door suddenly opening, the fresh smells of disinfectant and bleach hitting his nose, Emma in a pair of rubber gloves appearing.  

“Hey, I was just finishing the tiles,” she spoke, wiping her clammy forehead on the back of her arm. “How are you?” 

“Fucking surprised as hell at what I’ve come home to, shit,” he spoke, her eyes suddenly widening. 

“Oh, oh I, I’m sorry. I sh-should have asked if you minded. I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to overstep, I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry. Please d-don’t be mad.” Her reaction went from zero to a hundred, her panicked babble delivered at speed, suddenly crouching, wrapping her arms around her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  

He was confused at how badly she’d misunderstood his surprise. “Woah, it’s alright. I’m not mad, blue eyes.” Moving to her, her crouched, resting a hand to her back. The muscles beneath his touch immediately knotted in tension. “It’s okay, I just... I didn’t expect all of this. It’s not your job to clean my mess, but I gotta say I appreciate it.” 

Eventually she revealed herself, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You mean it? You’re n-not mad?” 

The stammers again. It pinched at his chest, to see and hear her so unravelled, wondering even more just what the hell kind of situation she’d fled to crumble like that so quickly. He hadn’t even raised his voice. Hell, he hadn’t even been angry in the slightest, yet she’d read his surprise as negative.  

“Of course, I’m not mad.” He slowly reached to cup the side of her face, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek, Emma feeling herself relax, a pleasant little tingle fluttering through her stomach. “Now, you need to tell me what in the hell else you made that smells so damned good, because it’s making my stomach rumble!” 

She pulled off her gloves, standing up, her smile shy, not able to look him in the eyes for that moment as bashfulness tugged at her. “Lasagne.”  

“Yeah? Shit, haven’t had any of that in years. Lead the way.” They moved into the kitchen, Guero taking in the extent of her cleaning, everything utterly spotless, the fresh scent mingling with the scent coming from the oven.  

“I ate already. It’s still warm, though. Big piece?”  

“Please, yeah,” he spoke, pulling off his t shirt. “Imma take a shower first, though.” 

When she turned, she almost dropped the dish she was placing onto the counter. Oh, hell. He had the kind of physique that came from dedication to the gym, a lean waist, ripped abs and a thick chest, the mass of his upper arms and shoulders perhaps the most impressive where bulk was considered. She’d also never seen anyone with that kind of tattoo coverage before either. What was more, she liked it.  

Realising she was staring at him with eyes like saucers, there was a little fluster to her actions, looking down as she cleared her through nervously. “Uh, um... that’s quite the collection of tattoos you have.” Feeling her cheeks flushing, she turned away, focusing on slicing a piece of the lasagne, chewing at her thumb furiously.  

Of course, he’d noticed her taking a moment to check him out, and usually he’d have been playful in response to that, him and his big mouth engaging in a little flirtation. He spared her, though, thinking it was adorable how furiously she blushed. “Yeah, I’m a walking canvas at this point. Anyway, won’t be long.”  

As soon as he’d left the room, she began to fan her cheeks, bouncing from one foot to another. “Oh god, that’s hot.” Men who looked like him were not what she was used to seeing shirtless. Seeing his body, she realised, had taken the edge off the little tumble into her repeated behaviour from her old life. Her natural reaction to whatever she deemed as upsetting someone was to literally drop down low and cower in fright, her submission expected in an instant.  

She could tell Guero wasn’t like that, but conditioned responses took a long time to break in habit.  

He joined her a few moments later, seating himself adjacent to her at the small table, dressed casually in light grey sweats and a black vest. “You even did my laundry for me and tidied my bedroom. Everywhere smells amazing. Thanks so much, but don’t feel like you have to for however long you wanna stay, alright?” 

Looking after people was all she knew, though. Turning it off would be like those conditioned responses; a hard habit to break. “I like it. It’s my pre-programmed state.” 

He was about to ask her what she meant by that, prior to taking his first mouthful of lasagne, pausing chewing a moment in surprise as a world of flavour burst upon his tongue. “Holy shit, that’s unreal! Were you a chef or something? Seriously, that’s amazing! Where’d you learn to cook like that?” 

Shrugging slightly, began chewing her thumb. “You pick it up around Italians.” Closing her eyes, a flash of the past transported her away for a moment, held at the neck, a hot knife pressed into her side.

“You think you can disrespect my mother’s memory by serving me this plate of crap? She’d turn in her grave if she saw what you’d done to her recipes, you idiot bitch!” 

He only ever burned her where people couldn’t see.  

“Emma?”  

Guero’s voice brought her back with a jolt. “Sorry, did you say something?”  

“Just asked if you wanted a beer?”  

Her reply was an immediate, pre-programmed response. “No, thank you. I’m not allowed to drink.” 

He frowned. “Says who?” 

Him. He says. She blushed, shaking herself softly, repeating her reminder in her head. “There’s no mafia in Santo Padre.” “Actually, I will. Thanks.” 

He smiled, going to the fridge and pulling it open. Fuck. She’d even cleaned in there, too. And filled it. Fresh vegetables, deli meats, cheese, fruit, milk, juices and cherry Coke. Obviously, she’d visited Khalid, whose large store was always abundantly well-stocked. 

Returning to the table, he twisted the tops off, handing one to her before he took a seat again, pausing in finishing his dinner. “I notice you dodged my question there.” His lips thinned in thought, considering his options. “Emma, are we about to get into a whole heap of shit for harbouring a mafia boss’s wife? You haven’t told me much, but that’s kinda what I’m assuming, that you got into that shipping container cuz’ you needed to vanish from a bad marriage without a trace, rather than heading to the airport. I dunno, or were you his...” he trailed off, snapping his fingers. “What do they call ‘em, the woman on the side? The goomada?” 

“Gooma,” she corrected softly. “No, I wasn’t married to Rocco. Gooma is probably what you could have referred to me as, but then again not really.” Her response was cryptic, her thumb going to her mouth once more. She always chewed it when nervous or embarrassed, he’d now noticed. “Can we talk about you, please? You mentioned you’re originally from Marana? I wanna know more, everything about you.”  

For her comfort, he left it, watching her begin to relax her drawn up shoulders as he started to talk about his life. “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. I was born Guero Ramiro Ortiz on December twentieth, nineteen ninety-three. Interestingly, Guero wasn’t supposed to be my name at all. Dad started calling me that from the moment I was born, because I was light skinned like him. That’s what the word means, basically. Kinda more nickname than anything else. They liked it and it stuck, though. I like it better than being called Hector, as my mom wanted to call me, after her father.  

“So yeah, I’m the only child of my parents, but dad has a couple of others out there I haven’t met yet, little bastard Ortiz’s in the wind,” he continued with a snort. “He did some serious time, went away when I was ten and then didn’t get released until four years ago, when I was twenty-five. Mom didn’t stick by him, and she was pissed as hell that after he was released, us reconnecting led to me joining the MC. I swear, she smacked my lil’ brown ass down hard when she found out!” 

Emma chuckled at his widened eyes, sipping her beer as he continued. “I was pretty decent at school, went to community college and learned how to be a mechanic, worked in garages in Tuscon for years until I joined the MC.” 

“What made you want to go outlaw?” she asked tentatively, Guero taking his last mouthful of food and standing, placing his plate into the sink. Immediately, she sprang up, ready to wash it, finding her arms gently grasped as she was steered back into her seat. 

He leaned to her, shaking his head. “Nope.” His lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, her heart somersaulting in her chest at such a gesture. Forehead kisses from a man. They were alien to her entirely, but how sweet to be treated to one. “I joined the MC ‘cuz of dad, and the pay is pretty damned good, too. Made more money in my first year fully patched than I did in two working as a mechanic.”  

“What does fully patched mean?” 

His hand reached for Axl when he came ambling in, smiling when after receiving the scratches, he immediately moved to Emma. “It means when you become a proper member of the MC. Everybody has to take a year as prospect first, which means you get hazed to fuck, given all the shit work, have to be at the beck and call of any fully patched member. Bottles is a prospect, same as Nestor, guy with the braids. He’ll get voted next week, Bottles in four months.” Just then, his phone began to ring, pulling it from his pocket. “Speak of the devil.” Sipping his beer, he answered after a pause. “’Sup, Mr Magoo?” 

He sat and listened, Emma not able to hear the other end of the conversation, Guero beginning to frown as he laughed. “Hank’s gonna beat your ass, prospect. I didn’t see where you left ‘em, but if they fell outta your pocket while we were out earlier, then you gotta whole lotta fucking highway to go search, don’t you?” More speech from Bottles, Guero listening before he interrupted. “Hey, you’re disturbing my evening, and...” he trailed off, rolling his eyes before looking at Emma. “Bitch ass here says hi.” 

“Hi, Bottles,” she chuckled.  

“Right, no... I don’t... yo, you need to calm the fuck down and just go find ‘em. Ain’t on me. Bye!” Returning his phone to his pocket, he shook his head. “Fucking prospects.” 

“What did he lose?” 

“The damned van keys! Told him, put ‘em behind the bar or straight in Hank’s hand, but no. You’d think with how thick his fucking glasses are, he’d never lose anything. Fucking Amsco window face!” 

She took it Amsco were a glazing company, beginning to laugh at his joke. He turned to her with a smile, eyes alight. Her laughter was beautiful. Seeing her face lit up, it made his heart skip on a beat. It’d been a while since he’d experienced that. “It’s nice, seeing you relax more.”  

Nodding, she looked down at Axl for a moment, her lashes fluttery when her eyes found his. “That’s because of you. Thanks for being my safe person.”  

His chest swelled with pride, his smile growing. He liked hearing that, that he was the one she’d placed her trust in, especially after the state he’d found her in. She seemed much steadier, save a blip or two here and there, of course, but he guessed those were issues she had to work out in her own time.  

“Glad I can be, blue eyes.” He winked, and it sent her insides into a fizz, once again beginning to chew at her thumb. “You’re gonna have no skin left if you keep doing that.” 

Her shrug was soft, stopping and reaching for her beer. “It’s an old habit. I’ve done it since I was a kid.” 

“So, did you grow up in New York? You don’t have the accent,” he questioned, Emma shaking her head.  

“Spokane, Washington.” 

“Ahh. Moved out there when you were older, huh?”  

She bit her lips together, getting up when Axl moved to hover by the back door. “Little sir needs to go pee, yes he does!”  

Guero sighed quietly through his nose, trying to quell the little flicker of annoyance that she refused to talk in any great detail about herself. He shook himself from it quickly, though, remembering his own words to her on the matter. It truly wasn’t any of his business.  

“Hey, I noticed when I was tidying that you have all the Kevin Smith movies. I haven’t seen Dogma yet. Can we go watch it?” she asked from the backdoor, watching Axl sniffing and bounding around over the freshly cut grass.  

“Yeah, I haven’t watched that in a minute. Good choice.” More beers were fetched, a bag of popcorn microwaved and tipped into a bowl, the pair settling in on the couch. She then remembered what was stashed beneath it.  

“Oh, here,” she spoke, pulling the money he’d left for her from her pocket and handing it to him. “I’m not taking your money from you, although I really appreciate the gesture. I have enough of my own, which brings me to a question. Do you have a safe?” 

“Nope, although I gotta get round to buying one. I have a floorboard, though” 

She frowned, mouthing the word floorboard back at him questioningly, Guero jerking his head in the direction of his bedroom. After picking up her bundles of cash, she arrived with him, his eyes widening considerably when he saw the size of the stacks she held.  

“Jesus, what you got there, about twenty g’s?” he asked, pushing his knife beneath the floorboard over by the window and lifting it up.  

“Thirty.” It was enough for a new life, and definitely the least of what she was owed, she’d thought prior to taking it. Crouching next to him, she placed her money on the opposite side to where she could see a few more neatly lined piles, pleased he had an adequate hiding place. 

While he placed the floorboard down again, Guero contemplated asking whether it was the reason she’d fled, ripping off the mob for thirty grand, but the question never left his mouth. She’d likely not tell him. With her money safely tucked away beneath the floor, they reassumed their positions on the couch, Axl jumping up to curl against Emma.  

Whether it was residual exhaustion, or her cleaning and yard work endeavours, she dozed off before the movie even ended, Guero removing the popcorn bowl from her lap and gently lifting her up, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her down.  

She stirred, reaching for his wrist. “No, no. The couch is fine, I can’t take your bed.”  

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”  

“I do. I don’t mind sharing.”  

He paused, looking down at her. “Sure?”  

“Mmhm,” she hummed sleepily. He undressed to his boxers and climbed in, making sure he didn’t invade her space, Emma removing her sweats and placing them on the floor.  

“Fair warning, I’m told I snore loudly,” he spoke quietly, fluffing the pillows. 

“Yeah, so do I. Full on mouth breathing and hissing,” she revealed, making him chuckle quietly. “G’night, Guero.” 

“Night.” He was more tired than he thought, falling asleep quickly. He awoke a few hours later to what his sleepy brain assumed to be the hissing Emma had mentioned, opening his eyes to find the space next to him empty of her, sitting up and stretching. The noise he could hear was panicked, heavy breathing. He reached to switch on the nightstand lamp, looking to see her curled up in the corner, eyes wide as she muttered and rocked herself back and forth.  

Peeling the covers off himself, he approached her quietly, noting this was a new behaviour and wondering what had triggered it. A nightmare, perhaps? “Emma?” 

“Don’t do it again, can’t do it to me again. No, Rocco. No, please don’t.”  

She didn’t seem to even notice he was there. Crouching by her side, he tried again. “Emma, he isn’t here. You’re far away now, where he can’t find you.”  

“I did everything you said, I was good. Please don’t, it hurts me. No, don’t.”  

He tried again. “Emma, you’re safe. He can’t get to you here. You’re in California with me. New York is long gone, baby.” Placing a hand to her arm, the action jolted a response from her, her nails finding his skin and scratching as she flew into panic, screaming shrilly, her eyes wide. “Woah, woah! Emma, it’s me, it’s me. Calm down.”  

He clutched her wrists tightly, preventing her onslaught, watching as her wide eyes finally focused, taking him in as she gasped for breath. It took a few moments, but recognition softened her face, pulling herself free from his grip and throwing her arms around him.  

“I h-had a nightmare,” she panted, Guero tightening his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap.  

“Yeah, I guessed.” He waited until she calmed, feeling her breathing begin to steady, her trembles subsiding. “Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about whatever it is you ran from, but I kinda think you might have to. I think you need help, Emma. This shit, it isn’t normal, or good for you.” 

As he expected, she didn’t reply, clinging onto him as he stood and carried her back to the bed, surprising him greatly when she refused to let go. She lay curled against him, face buried against his neck, her breathing speeding and then slowing, her muscles tensing and slackening again as she wrestled with whatever it was up in her head that was terrifying her.  

She had never in her life lay like that with a man, within his protective embrace. It felt different, but good, his steady breathing and soft rhythm of his heart calming her down. Just forty-eight hours ago, she would have been too frightened to allow herself that, the intimacy of sharing a bed with a man, curled so closely against him. Allowing him to hug her had been fine, but this was on another level. A level that she was good with.  

While she settled into sleep, Guero lay awake for a time, beginning to worry about her going out into the world without dealing with her past. The way she remained clung onto him in those dead of night hours was telling, though. He doubted that any place where he wasn’t was a viable option in her terrified mind.  

He was fine with that, but he wished she’d let him help her beyond what comfort his presence could offer.  

[echodrops]

The Promises I’m Making (2024)

Sheesh, this year it was even harder than last year to make promises. In particular, I really wanted to focus on promises that wouldn't cost as much money as in prior years, so I tried to steer clear of too many promises that would cost above the basic spending amounts... But it turns out it is really hard to make resolutions if you're broke. 😂

So here's what I'm going with:

2024 Promises

1) Step down from my administrative position and return to being a full-time faculty member. I literally cannot take the clown show that is admin at my work anymore. It is actually killing me.

2) Related to this, redecorate my new office as soon as they decide where they are going to move me.

3) Apply for new jobs!! APPLY FOR NEW JOBS!!!

4) Train my replacement in the chair position well so they are super prepared to take over in fall.

5) Put a new sink/vanity in the downstairs bathroom of the Utah house.

6) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

7) Finally get rid of the dirt pile in front of the Utah house.

8) Take down the remains of the wooden fence posts at the Utah house.

9) Fully clean out and prepare the Utah house to be rented out to new renters. Hopefully the next people won’t sneak in a parrot that poops all over the floor… RIP…

10) Clean off my back patio/car port area so I can park my car there again.

11) Call the plumber and replace the faucets. Even if I end up having to do it myself.

12) Get the dead tree removed from the Texas house yard and call the internet company to see about the cable around the tree root.

13) Plant roses where the old ones died in front of the Texas house. 

14) Replace my CPU fan; the bearings are going out and it’s making an annoying noise.

15) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them. 

16) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2023 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that paint program I bought. 

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year, but I hope I can make progress on this.

19) Buy all the Noragami volumes I am missing and do a complete re-read of Noragami now that the series is finishing up.

20) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

21) Finish at least five books this year.

22) Update HaaH at least once. Please, Echo???

23) Reach the new level cap with all jobs in FFXIV!

24) Go to the graduation ceremony for my family friend.

25) Catch up with hanging up all the charms/pins I’ve gotten recently on my corkboards; these are just sitting in boxes/bags around the house. D;

26) Fully deep clean and vacuum/detail my own car at home. No more of the “It doesn’t make sense to clean it out now; the dog is just going to go back in it.” The dog is always going to go back in it. Clean it, Echo.

27) Help my parents tear out the carpet in my old childhood bedroom.

28) See at least three new species of birds. Doesn’t matter where, just three new ones!

29) Reach 3500 followers. Can I do it? You should follow me if you’re not already; I’m pretty cool. Just sayin’!

30) Cancel all the subscriptions I don’t need. There’s literally no reason to sit around letting companies passively profit off me when I don’t even really use the services/the services keep getting worse while the costs keep going up.

31) Go out on at least a day trip to take pictures with my friend. We haven’t done this in quite some time. I need to touch grass.

32) Repair the lovely one-of-kind ceramic plate that my dog broke with kintsugi. I want to try it at least once!

33) Really look hard for my passport in my house. It’s been missing for like a year and a half now, and I don’t want to have to pay for a new one.

34) Put all the small prints, postcards, and stickers I have collected in my new mini-print books. I can even use up washi tape to decorate too. (Finally, a purpose for the washi tape…)

35) Shred the million pieces of old mail I have lying around the house. I finally got the shredder so it just makes sense to use it.

36) Have more follow-through with chores. It’s not enough to wash the clothes or do the dishes if I then procrastinate on folding the clean laundry and putting the dried dishes back in the cabinets…

37) Put reminders for birthdays and major events in my phone as well as set a monthly reminder to check these promises. Maybe I’ll be able to keep more promises if I look at the list more often throughout the year!

38) Since I can’t afford to go to the salon, spa, etc. too much this year, I should at least do some self-care days at home. Will this be the year I finally manage to use all the fancy scrubs and face masks and bath salts I keep getting from people?

39) Use up one whole notebook. It doesn’t matter what goes in the notebook, but I gotta use the whole thing from cover to cover. I have so many pretty notebooks that never get used just because they’re pretty.

40) Change the burned-out lightbulbs in the recessed lighting in the Texas house ceiling. It’s like twelve feet high and the lightbulb charger stick I bought didn’t work, so I’m going to have to find someone with a ladder. Save me, handyman. Save me.

41) Build the pretty koi paper lantern my brother got me, or the Korean temple model my coworker gave me after his trip to Korea.

42) Actually use the yoga mat I bought forever ago. At least a few times, please???

43) Finish watching the Fruits Basket remake with Kacchan. I think we stopped in the second season, RIP.

44) Spend more time with coworkers—go out to lunch more often.

45) See about removing the PMI from at least one of my house loans to try to save money. I’ve been paying on these loans long enough I shouldn’t need PMI anymore.

46) Practice my German skills (or I guess other language skills?) by translating something at least once a month.

47) Get a new bookshelf. The current ones in both my office and foyer are already overflowing. @_@

48) Make more time to call people and talk on the phone. Texting is not the same. D;

49) Get the new COVID vaccine to stay healthy.

50) I will keep my promises! 

Good luck, 2024’s me!

[kcenvs3000f24]

Unit 01 Blog

Hi everyone, welcome to my first blog post! My name is Khushi, and I am in my fourth year of Environmental Science at the University of Guelph.

My current relationship with nature is a blend of deep appreciation and profound connection. Allowing myself to spend time in nature has now become a source of calm and rejuvenation for me, especially during moments of stress. I would say my love for nature developed in my childhood, as I was always captivated by the beauty of the outdoors. I grew up with a close-knit family that was always engaged in outdoor activities, so we would take advantage of the hot summers, which were always filled with joyful gatherings. From beach trips to camping trips up North, spending time outdoors always excited me as I was growing up. The many camping trips sparked my admiration for nature as I witnessed its beauty and wonders up close. I remember one evening my cousins and I ventured onto the forest trails at our campsite for a night walk. As we moved through the stillness, I felt a sense of peace around us. This moment fostered a lasting bond with nature that continues to inspire and ground me in my everyday life. 

There was also a time in my childhood where I had the opportunity to go to India with my mom for a few months, and I thank her till this day for taking me. In those few months I was exposed to a whole new country which offered a different aspect to the beauty and diversity of nature. During our stay in India, we stayed at my grandpa’s house, and I was ecstatic to discover a guava tree flourishing in his front yard. As a little girl, the excitement I felt picking a ripe fruit from a tree and savouring it was an experience that filled me with joy. I think back to that moment when I saw that tree and it reminds me of how much nature has to offer. I also found myself immersed in the great outdoors daily, often returning to the house with mosquito bites, sun-kissed skin, and/or dirt on my clothes from all the dirt pies I would be making. Experiencing a different environment of nature in India as a child sparked a sense of wonder and excitement within me since I was given an opportunity to immerse myself in India’s beautiful environment. 

My love for the outdoors has guided me towards pursing a degree in environmental science. My time at university has deepened my understanding of the environment, nature, and living things in remarkable ways. Over the past three years, I have found myself admiring nature and noticing all the living components that are a part of it. I also have developed a love for exploring forest trails across parks in the GTA. The happiness I gain from fulling immersing myself in my surroundings on these trails makes me appreciate every detail that composes the nature that is around me. I cherish capturing the beauty of the natural world through photos whenever I do find myself in nature. Capturing these moments allows me to revisit what I had the opportunity to encounter, making me thankful for the incredible gifts that nature provides. 

I took this picture the other day in a trail in Mississauga. As I was walking through the trail with vibrant greenery, I spotted a fascinating sight. It was a spider crafting its web while dangling from a leaf on a beautiful tree. I stopped to watch and observe the spiders intricate process. The spider, with its legs moving in a precise motion, was spinning its thread that glistened in the sunlight. In this moment of watching natures artistry unfold gave me a reminder of the incredible patience and precision found in such environments.

[mckinleygirl98]

@lorephobic

if you haven't played normal Manhunt (everyone has)

you ought to now.

My younger sister and brother have friends in the neighborhood visiting.

i was at the front door and decided to join these KIDS. childish game from my childhood.

DUDE. when I tell you I am dripping sweat, it is PITCH black outside and i had but a flashlight and was on a team with whatever her name was.

So let me tell you about the first round.

We were the hiding-people. We hid in the bush outside a neighbor's house (with permission ofc) and they walked right past us in the road, going to one of the friends' house. We were under the bush and I had a bug in my hair and mosquitos were devouring me alive. They started coming that way and thought we were in the house. I snuck around the back (outside the fence). We slipped into the woods and we couldn't hear them. Until we did.

So we hid behind a tree. Yes. Three of us. One (Being me) much taller than the other two of my sisters' pals. We hid behind ONE LARGE TREE and didn't make a sound. Then.

NEIGHBOR LADY SELLS US OUT !!!!!!

SHE YELLED "I SEE YOU!" and the girls run into the yard, through the yard, spot us, and we try to go around one side but alack! We're in another yard and don't wanna trespass.

So, naturally I run the other way and leave the other two to fend for themselves. The MANHUNTERS are about to open the fence and grab me when I least expect it- but alack! (for them.) I ran across the street to... my house, of course. I ran and hid behind the house, and then behind the wood shed, and then behind the car.

ALACK! For them! I pulled a John Surratt! They couldn't find me until it got REALLY dark and needed flashlights !

unfortunately i was a really bad manhunter the next round

IN CONCLUSION IDK WHAT BOOTH AND HEROLD WERE COMPLAINING FOR. THAT WAS ENVIGORATING!!!!!