#we are usually so chill in January

[neverendingcycle]

Admitted a woman today who immediately was taken to the OR for a bilateral below the knee amputation following a vaginal delivery. It’s these cases that literally terrify me and make me so thankful for 1) never experiencing anything like it and 2) working in a level 1 trauma center where we have the resources to care for these women. You think obstetrics and you think smiling happy moms and babies but god, the shit we’ve dealt with lately.. what is happening

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

-

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you. 

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake. 

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble. 

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand. 

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock. 

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs. 

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.” 

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back. 

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.  

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip. 

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him. 

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area. 

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him. 

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. 

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you. 

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream. 

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you. 

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad. 

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck. 

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you. 

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin. 

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head. 

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand. 

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue. 

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?” 

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

[eat-limes-bitches]

Take A Chance

PAIRING: Female Reader x  Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY:  Who knew one look could calm the raging storm of his mind.

SONG Be Brave by Owl City

WARNINGS: Angst, (Bucky's self-loathing, anxiety, mention of nightmares, hinting to PTSD) Fluff!!!

Word Count: 1212

A/N: Hi! Here is the 2nd part! Sorry, it took so long! If you haven't read the first part yet you can click HERE to read it first, but you don't have to, you can read this as a stand-alone. I've already started part 3 so be on the lookout for that!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Bucky stood outside Joe’s coffee shop a little before nine, fiddling with the bouquet in his hands, tracing his eyes over the colored petals. He had asked the little old lady at the flower shop what would be best. She had looked him over thoughtfully before producing the bouquet with a smile, shooing him off insiting he not pay, as he was a regular there and had never bought flowers for a special someone before. He stuck the cash he intended to pay her in the tip jar and shuffled out the door and over to Joe’s where he was now standing. 

Was this too old-fashioned? Do girls even like flowers anymore? What if she doesn’t even show up? I’ll look like an idiot.

He began to question himself, starting to become nervous. He rubbed a gloved hand over his thigh as he began to spiral, but a sweet voice pulled him out of it before he descended too far into madness. 

“Hi, Bucky!”

Bucky froze and turned around to look at the speaker. Sure enough, there was the woman from the movie theater the night before. She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes bright and warm, chasing off the chill of the January air. Bucky shook his head and cleared his throat,

“Oh! Um- Hi, Y/n.” He offered her an awkward smile as he handed her the bouquet, “These are for you.”

She gingerly took the flowers from him, eyes wide as she looked at them before shifting her gaze up to his. The longer she stayed silent, the more dread he felt building up in his stomach. 

“I-I’m sorry, it was probably stupid and old-fashioned but my ma woulda killed me if she knew I went to meet a pretty girl without flowers a-and I didn’t know what to get so the lady at the store told me-”

His rambling was cut off when Y/n waved her hand. 

“No! I love them! It’s just, no one has ever bought me flowers before.” She said shyly, looking down at her boots. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be surprised, how had no one ever bought her flowers, he would never understand. He made a silent vow to himself to buy her as many flowers as he could. 

“Oh, well, I’m glad you like them.” He said softly, the corner of his lips turning up in a small but genuine smile as he motioned to the coffee shop. “Shall we?” Y/n smiled and nodded and the pair made their way into the shop. As soon as Bucky opened the door, a sense of comfort washed over him along with the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. The pair shuffled inside and up to the counter.  The kid who worked behind the counter on Saturdays came over and took their orders, saying that he would be bringing it over to their table shortly. Bucky motioned for Y/n to pick a seat and she picked the booth in the back of the shop. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” She said as Bucky began to sit down, “I like to be able to see everything, makes me feel a little more at ease.”

Bucky smiled, he didn’t mind at all, in fact, he felt much more comfortable at the back of the shop. He was no longer the Winter Soldier but some of those habits are hard to break, like making note of every exit and entrance of a place, keeping a head count on everyone that entered and left, double locking doors, and many other little tics. 

“No, this is fine,” he said with a smile, “This is my usual booth.”

She smiled brightly at him and seemed to relax a bit before asking, “So do you come here often?” 

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about his response, trying to decide how to say it without giving away who he was all at once. 

“Uh yeah, a friend of mine brought me here when I was trying to find myself after coming back from a hard time in life.” He internally cringed at his explanation gauging Y/n’s reaction as she thought about his words. She gave him a soft smile and nodded before she spoke;

“Yeah, Steve was a great guy like that, I’m sure it’s been hard on you since he left.” Bucky felt his blood run cold Shit, she does know who I am, she thinks I’m a monster. How does she know Steve? Is she from HYDRA? I knew this was too good to be true, no one would ever want someone like me. His thoughts began to spiral out of control until Y/n tapped on the table to get him to look at her. She gave him a sheepish smile;

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. I’m sure you think I’m a spy or something but I promise you I’m not. I was neighbors with Steve for a time. He spoke very fondly of you, even after all of the fighting and horrible things that happened to you and I’m sorry about that. No one deserves what you went through.”

Her words were soft and gentle as if she were talking to a frightened animal. Bucky blinked in surprise, staying quiet for a few moments before speaking again,

“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Her rasped out.

She gave him a sad smile as she placed her hand on top of his, “You’re not a monster. You’re a mirror, a thing that shows the reflection of the real monsters, with the cracks to prove that you lived through it. There is good in you, there always has been. It was the one thing in this century Steve was 100 percent certain of. I trust him and his judgment. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

These words triggered some sort of visceral response in Bucky. His racing heart slowed down, breathing coming back to normal levels, and his thoughts, for the first time in a while, stilled. The incessant hurricane of toxic thoughts and poisonous memories dissolved, leaving clear skies instead, something so beautiful it almost brought tears to his eyes. He looked down at the table and took her hand in his, looking back up with a soft smile. 

Y/n gave His hand a gentle squeeze. She knew what he was trying to say, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know what it was. Their orders were brought out and so they shared small talk, which seemed to come so easily but he was taking little notes of each of her responses, not wanting to forget a single detail.

Favorite color? Bue, but not bright blue. Soft, like worn denim.

Dogs or cats? Both are great, but she currently has a dog.

Favorite time of day? Early evening. The world starts to darken and you can just see the stars poking through the colors of the sky.

The longer they talked, the more the storm was tamed in Bucky’s mind and he realized that he could get used to this kind of peace that he hadn’t known in a long time, only if she was there with him.

[usedtobecooler]

If you’re looking for ideas: Riding Virgin Eddie’s face.

what the fuck i'm losing my absolute shit over this.

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), oral f receiving, handjobs, corruption kink, dirty talking, lil bit of angst and confusion, lots of words of praise (being called pretty, handsome), dumbification (reader thinks eddie is a bit of an idiot).

Word Count | 3k

A/N | at this point i think i need some fucking help because what the hell am i actually playing at doing this again when i literally just posted the last part yesterday. anyway, i need to take a cold shower after this.

Things are a bit awkward for a while after your previous encounter with Eddie, which saddens you. He was acting more awkward than usual, he tensed up whenever you'd brush by him and things in general just weren't quite how they used to be. There was a shift in energy and you'd come to the conclusion that you'd scared him off.

He didn't even catch a ride home with you anymore, his van finally getting fixed just as Winter crept in, which meant you didn't get to corner him anywhere to press him on it.

Maybe Eddie just isn't interested in me, maybe he's gone out and found another girl instead (which is fine, you definitely wouldn't ponder on it too long and you definitely didn't feel a pang of hurt in your chest at the thought), maybe it had awakened something in him and he decided he wasn't interested in sex at all.

Either way, you were giving him his space and waiting for him to come to you when he was ready. Because, irregardless of how you felt about him and how you ached to have his fingers and mouth all over you again, you also were respectful of boundaries and you knew not to push him when he wasn't ready.

It's a particularly quiet Monday shift, Christmas had been and gone and that left the January slump. You're sitting perched pretty on a twirling stool, swinging it back and forth a little with your foot that's resting on a bit of wood below your feet. Your chin is in your hand as you lean onto the counter, big jumper drowning you to block out the chill of the cool, snowy air blasting through the drafty door every so often.

Eddie is... well he's Eddie. Keeping himself occupied arranging some new tapes that had come in just before Christmas when you had no time to sort them. He wasn't usually so quick to actually do the work you were paid to do, usually sat on his ass all day like you did and would flip through his weird comic books.

You break the almost tense silence with a loud sigh, getting agitated with watching and hearing Eddie doing his work, "Eddie, honey, you've been rearranging A through D for the last hour, there can't be anything left that you've missed."

He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at you, not daring to look up and face you but you catch him doing it. What a little brat.

"Eddie, what have I actually done wrong?" And oh, there it is, tumbling out of your mouth like an intrusive thought let loose before you can catch it and swallow it back up.

"You've done nothing wrong." He mutters, letting his curls fall over his face to hide himself from your view, "I just feel... awkward, is all. Like I can't look you in the face because I keep picturing what we did."

Oh.

Oh.

"Did you not like it or somethin'? Cause to me it seemed like you did." You're huffing and puffing like a spoilt kid, if you were standing up you'd of been stomping your foot.

"I-I did like it, that's the problem," Eddie sighs, defeated as he throws his head back and looks up at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world, "but how can I look at you and go on like before when you made me, well."

He's such a virgin. He can't even get the words out right without cringing and you're caught halfway between endeared and annoyed.

"You jizzed in your pants, Eds. Jesus Christ." You spit it out for him and it comes out harsher than you had meant, you inwardly cringe at yourself when you see the downtrodden look on his face, like a puppy that's been kicked, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that, handsome. It's just... it happened and I enjoyed it too."

"Why are you doing this?" He asks eventually, looking at you now with his big, wet puppy dog eyes and your legs turn to jelly, he's just so fucking pretty, "Is it... is it like a joke or something? Did somebody put you up to it?"

You gawp at him open mouthed for a second, "Ouch, that hurt. Are you that oblivious to how much I actually like you? I've literally had to stop myself pouncing on you from the day we met. You're just so goddamn pretty. I sort of guessed you were kinda inexperienced but I didn't know you were a virgin until you admitted it to me that night. I jus' wanna show you how to make a girl feel good. You didn't even need my help, you fucked me with your fingers so good all on your own."

You can't help it, you squeeze your thighs together as the heat creeps up your neck remembering just how well Eddie had fingered you, how he'd brought you to the edge so fast with little instruction. He was perfect.

He looks at you for a second, all dumb and wide eyed, before glancing at the clock, noticing the time and realising you should've shut ten minutes ago. He prances over to lock the door, then swiftly exits through to the back where the break room and bathroom were.

You follow Eddie wordlessly, jumping down from the stool and wandering through not far behind. You're gonna talk about this before you lose your nerve and make things worse.

He makes for the bathroom and before he can shut the door you place your hand on it, shoving your way in and slamming it behind you.

It's like a fucking airplane bathroom, you're wedged up against the door and Eddie's back is up against the sink. He's looking at you all bug eyed, in a silent 'what the fuck', but he's not saying anything to get you to leave.

"You just gonna stand there and look all pretty and stupid or are you gonna talk?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest. You notice Eddie's idiotic glance down at your tits, all squished together under the pressure of your arms and you laugh sarcastically - right in his face. Incredible.

"I just wanted to take a piss." He says it like he's dumb and at this point you're starting to question if he truly is as stupid as he makes himself out to be around you.

Eddie's big, wet loser boy eyes have you captured. Have done from the get go. You find yourself relaxing a bit and losing your hard stare as you finally drink in his appearance properly for the first time in weeks. His lips are so full and red, albeit chapped from the cold weather, and his nose is all cute. Suddenly you realise all you can think about is shoving his stupid face into your cunt and riding it senseless.

He makes the first move, which. My god. His hand comes out to grip at your squishy cheeks carefully, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip and his long fingers fanning up the side of your face, the tips resting gently in your hair.

You melt into his touch, lunging forward to capture his lips and instantly you're licking into his mouth. You want Eddie all over you, consuming your entire being.

He's still so shit at kissing but he'll get there eventually with some coaching. It's hot the way that he basically drools into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours gingerly like he's frightened. One day, you think, he'll be confident enough to spit in your mouth and make you swallow it.

Baby steps, you think to yourself, trying to rewind back from that thought.

"Can I, uh, can I do something?" Eddie asks quietly once he pulls away from your mouth, a string of spit following and you have to shut your eyes and clench your thighs at the sight of it.

You nod fervently, gasping out loud when he drops to his knees in front of you like a bitch in heat. Your tummy quivers, anticipating what he's going to do next.

Eddie's hands slide up your thighs, covered in thick black tights this time because it's too cold for fishnets in this damn snow, gingerly resting just below the cut of your big sweater. He's looking up at you again with his big sparkling eyes, leaning his cheek against the meat of your left thigh, and from this angle he looks so submissive. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight.

"Are you insinuating what I think you are?" You ask, voice quivering a little, just to make sure you're getting this right, "You wanna lick me out?"

Eddie cringes a little at the way you word it, cheeks flushing red, but he nods and grips onto your thighs in reply, "You could - you could show me how."

"Baby boy," You coo, running your hand over his curls and gripping them a little. You don't miss the way Eddie keens into the touch, a breathy sigh shuddering out of him, "I'll show you anything you want me to show you. Slide my tights down."

It happens in a weird blur, Eddie leans back on his haunches and grips the material of your tights in between his fingers, tugging them down slowly and pulling your panties along. By accident, you'd assume, with the sheepish look he gives you when he realises.

There's no patience for you to toe your beaten Docs off to help slide your tights off, so they're left pooled around your ankles. You take it upon yourself to spread your legs and Eddie eagerly looks, eyes bugging out at the sight of your slick pussy in some real lighting.

"All that's for you, pretty boy," It's true, really. You were wet just from looking at his face and the careful way he spoke to you and asked you for things, "Y'gonna lean forward and put your mouth to work? Just start by licking flat against me so you can feel it out."

Eddie does what you tell him to without question, nudging forward in between your open legs and dipping down to lick a flat stripe up your pussy, his fat tongue gliding right between your folds, catching your clit just barely at the end.

"That's it, Eddie, fuck," You shiver, hand instinctively coming back out to grasp at the curls on top of his head. He's looking at you still, wet eyes glimmering, nose perched perfectly on your mound, he's like a wet fucking dream, "keep doing that and I'll help, 'kay?"

It's almost like Eddie was naturally made to be buried face deep in pussy because his enthusiasm is unmatched. He begins this assault on your cunt like his life depends on it, hands gripping your thighs tight for purchase, as he licks fat stripes up and down your pussy, there's no rhythm at all but that doesn't matter. He finds your clit as quickly this time as the last time and he points his tongue to lick over it lazily, flicking that bundle of nerves just right.

You can't take your eyes off of him, legs shaking and hands tightening in his hair so hard he moans. You'd need to come back to that another time, because what the fuck?

"Shit, Eddie, your mouth is sinful," You choke out, fucking your hips up against his face a little when he sucks at your clit, "you didn't need any help, you - god, right there - knew exactly what to do already."

Eddie finds his rhythm slowly but surely and you finally shut your eyes, thumping your head back against the door. He's licking at your opening, dipping his tongue in and out experimentally, nose pressed tightly into your cunt, rubbing at your clit. You don't know how he's breathing but you don't care and you're thinking he doesn't either.

Your hips move of their own accord, back and forth, the sweet catch and drag of his nose over your clit and his tongue flicking back and forth is bringing you close to your peak ridiculously quick.

You're gonna give him an ego at this rate and you can't risk that. You need him bashful and dumb for a bit longer yet.

Suddenly, a moan grumbles out of Eddie's throat and it vibrates against your cunt. You chance a peek down and you realise one of his hands is gone and pressing tightly against his covered cock. He's a fucking mess, eyes wet from tears and he's panting against you in between devouring your pussy.

"You gonna cum in your, God, pants again? With my sweet pussy in your mouth?" You're losing it but you can't help but tease Eddie, watching intently as your hips rock back and forth, the sweet drag of the bulb of his nose over your clit driving you wild.

He's moaning like crazy and you can feel him jerking into his own hand, still not even attempting to get his hand in, just happy to have the little bit of friction.

Eddie cums quick and sudden, you can tell by the way his mouth falters on your cunt and the whine that escapes him, his eyes finally leaving yours and squeezing shut.

"That's it, cum in your pants again. Fuck, this is so hot," You're whining, rubbing furiously against Eddie's face again, but now he's gripping your thighs again and back to assaulting your clit with intent, nose buried into your mound once again. He's clearly trying to get you there, you can tell by the way his brows are furrowed and he looks like he's concentrating.

"Uh, that's it, keep doing that," You're a whining, babbling mess now, the pressure in your tummy mounting fast, building hot and making goosebumps spread all over your body, "I'm cumming, shit, Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck."

You moan so loud if anyone was around they'd of heard you clear as day, your grip in his hair so tight it's got to fucking hurt, thighs squeezing around his head as you almost double over on top of him, your orgasm shaking through you so violently your legs are buckling.

It takes you a second to come to, pulling yourself back up and releasing Eddie's hair sheepishly. He's looking at you all dumb with a big grin, his face and neck covered in your release and your cunt squeezes around nothing at the sight.

"You really do have me losing my mind here, handsome," You sigh, helping him up off of his knees and cringing at the cracking his bones do as he straightens himself out.

You can't help it, peaking down to see the wet patch formed on the front of his worn in jeans, but you notice this time his cock is still straining against the zipper, "Are you... are you hard again?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

Eddie nods, "Sorry, s'just. That was so hot and I really liked it," He's all bashful, red in the face and his brown eyes glistening like a puppy who's being played with.

"Don't be sorry," You puff out a little laugh as you bend down to pull your panties and tights back up, snapping them against your belly, "can I touch you?"

"Are- are you sure? You don't have to, shit," Eddie's stumbling over his words, gasping when your hands effortlessly work on his button and zip on his jeans. You didn't have to wait any longer, the green light was there and you were taking full advantage.

You pull down his soiled pants and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out, all flushed red at the tip and begging to be touched. It's so much prettier than you hoped it'd be, matches Eddie perfectly, it's thick and long and you want your mouth around it.

That'd wait for another day, though.

Eddie is flush with embarrassment but he can't take his eyes off of you, choking on his tongue when you lean over to spit directly onto the hot head of his cock.

"Sorry handsome, this'll probably be quick for you," You admit, hand wrapping tight over the head and then spreading the spit down his shaft. You don't miss the high pitched whine that escapes his lips, you don't miss how he looks down to watch your fist fuck him expertly with wide eyes and curiosity.

"God, sweetheart, y-your hand feels so good," Eddie sounds like he's crying, voice wet and needy, but you can't tear your eyes away from his pretty cock sliding in and out of your tight fist to look. He's blurting out so much precum that your hand is slicking up and down effortlessly, you know this is gonna be over before you know it.

"Shit, shit," Eddie's gasping, hand clinging onto your shoulder for purchase. You finally look back up at him now, not wanting to miss the look on his face when he cums, thumb flicking over the head of his cock and wrist twisting, bringing him closer and closer.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum for me? I know you want to," Your words are hot and heavy, you don't mean to sound as dirty as you do but that's the way it comes out and it works, because Eddie is fucking losing it, moaning and whining all high pitched and cute and cumming all over your fist.

You surge forward and capture his lips with yours, working him through the last of it as his cum drips down your fingers, making a mess of your sweater and his own shirt. He moans into your mouth all hot and needy, fingers still clenching your shoulder tight enough to bruise.

When you finally release his slowly softening cock and take a step back, you take in the full mess in front of you. Eddie is so red in the face, hair dripping with sweat, clothes all crumpled up and dishevelled looking.

He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and burying his face in, "You're gonna be the death of me. Thank you, thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet, pretty boy. You can do that next time when you fuck me over the top of this sink."

[pixiesfz]

okay i have a kcc request but it’s a little more hurt/comfort vibes

reader is usually upbeat, matching kyra’s energy. r starts to feel a little down and burnt out and kyra’s the only one that notices. kyra organizes a cute little day for them to just chill and talk and cuddle

yes absolutely I love KCC!

on sale k.c.c

plot: you’ve been told by your agent that you’ve been bought by Chelsea, but you don’t know how to tell your girlfriend and friends

warning: angst?, I’m not sure how buying a player works but we will deal with it

“And Arsenal has taken the deal” Your agent told you as you sat in front of him.

You took a deep breath in and looked away “So I’ll be going to Chelsea in January?” You clarified and he nodded. You scoffed “I’ve been here loyally for years”.

“They are offering you a spot in the starting eleven and if Sam Kerr isn’t playing they will put you in striker position” he explained but your head was spinning.

You were moving to a different club, a rival club.

“Y/n I know this is hard but Arsenal wouldn’t of taken the deal if they didn’t know that it would be better for you and your career” he explained and you nodded your head.

It was November which meant you had one more month with the girls before the break and then you would have to go back with Chelsea.

You were leaving your friends.

You were leaving Kyra.

You were the main reason she took Arsenals deal, she wanted to play with you even if it wasn’t on international break.

“Can I go now?” You asked your agent who sadly smiled “yes you can go”.

You got up quickly, tears in your eyes as you got into your car where you cursed loudly out of frustration. You didn’t drive home to you and Kyras shared apartment, you drove to Beth and Vivs house.

They had taken a motherly status over you as you played for the Netherlands with Viv and Beth had taken you under her wing when you rocked up to your first training in an oversized training top as the smallest size was still to big as you were still a teenager.

You knocked on their door frantically as Beth opened the door with a smile “Not a robbed just y/n!” She called back to her girlfriend before looking at you again, her eyes immediately drawn to your red eyes and uneven breaths.

“Y/n/n are you okay?” She asked softly and you brought the older girl into a bone crushing hug in her doorway “y/n?” She asked and you crossed your head “not yet” you cried and the woman nodded as she squeezed you tighter, Viv walking around the corner in confusion as usually when you came over you and Beth were loudly mucking around.

She didn’t question anything but just watched from the corner of the hallway “lieverd” she muttered out as you made eye contact with your international team mate.

Viv could get any truth out of you with one look so you walked out of your embrace with Beth “they sold me” you said and Viv and Beth shared a look “Arsenal sold you?” Viv asked, stepping forward to you and you nodded “to Chelsea I’ll be moving in January” you explained as Beth wiped away your tears.

Viv looked away, not wanting you to see her emotion of sadness as Beth brought you into a hug “when did you find out?” Viv asked “Just then, I came here first” you explained and they nodded “I can’t go home, not yet” you told them and they nodded.

“You can’t go home cause Kyra will be there?” Viv asked and another tear ran down your face “I don’t know how to tell her, I can’t go home like this”.

The two shared a look and nodded and you looked around “can I go pet Myles now” you sniffed and Viv chuckled at your need for the puppy.

You stayed at the Meadema home for about three hours before you deemed yourself fit enough to go home to your girlfriend.

When you arrived Kyra was sleeping on the couch as the screen asked her if she was still watching, obviously she wasn’t.

Usually you would jump on the girl and wake her up but you instead walked past her and got changed into your pajamas for the night.

When Kyra woke up and saw you in the kitchen she furrowed her brows as you didn’t annoyingly wake her up from her nap.

“Hey how was lunch with Vic?” She asked as she walked into the kitchen

You didn’t tell her about your appointment with your agent, if you did then you would have to tell her the truth which you couldn’t right now.

“It was good” you said as Kyra nodded “did you finally try the dumplings?” She asked as she hugged into you, noticing your stiffness as she did so.

“No” was all you said before opening up a bag of chips, Kyra letting go of your body.

“Well did you not eat enough cause you look still hungry if your eating those” she pointed out and you shrugged “I guess”.

“Want to ring the bell on Caitlin’s apartment and run away like it was a Knick knocker?” Kyra suggested and you crossed your head “not today babe” you said and kissed her cheek.

Kyra watched suspiciously as you walked by her and into the living room.

You were never one to deny a small prank.

When training came the next day you were quiet and stuck by Viv and Beth “you haven’t told her yet?” Beth asked as she noticed Kyras still bubbly behaviour in the corner “I can’t” you said and Viv looked at you “You’re going to have to tell the team soon” she said and you nodded.

During drills you went to kick a shot at goal but Kyra kicked it before you could reach it, earning laughs from Katie, Caitlin and Less who were behind you, normally you would run after the girl in revenge but you found yourself just grabbing the ball and having another shot once again confusing your girlfriend.

Kyra ran over to Beth who was at the end of the line “Hey chicken” Beth smiled and Kyra looked in your direction “do you know what’s wrong with y/n, she’s not as…” Kyra couldn’t find the word “Devilish” Beth answered and Kyra nodded “I guess”

Beth looked at Kyra in sorrow, if Viv hid a secret like the secret you were keeping she would be devastated and sad when she found out “maybe just talk to her after training, she could just be having a bad day” Beth shrugged before going back to her group of forwards where you watched their interaction.

You saw Kyras face fall as she saw you watching and your heart broke, you didn’t want to leave her.

Kyra watched you for the whole of training, complaining of a fake ankle injury just so she could keep a better watch, you smiled once and it was only because of a nutmeg goal you had scored against Manu.

When it was time to shower and go home, you were quick, too quick for Kyras liking, usually you would stay around and joke around with her or hide peoples boots when they weren’t looking but you were in and out of the shower before quickly grabbing your bag and waiting out front.

When you got home you tried to walk straight to your room but Kyras hand grabbed your wrist “y/n wait” she said as you turned around to her “have I done something wrong?” She asked and your eyes widened “No! no god no, why would you think that?” You panicked and Kyra let go of your hand “because you’ve been distant and your answers have been short as if you don’t want to talk to me” she explained and you squeezed your eyes as you realised that your actions have made an impact on your girlfriend “and I also know you didn’t go out for lunch with Vic” Kyra said and you stepped back “Kyra-“

“Did you see someone?” She asked and you panicked once again “No! I would never do that to you!” You said and pulled her in a hug “where did you go then?” She asked and you squeezed her tighter as you snuggled into her neck “y/n?” She asked again and you sniffed, the feeling that you felt as you hugged Beth coming back to you.

“Don’t be mad” you muttered as your eyes watered, Kyra lifted her head as she lifted your head softly with her fingers “I won’t get mad I promise” she told you and you looked away.

“Arsenal uhm-“ you started and Kyra nodded, showing you she was listening “they got an offer from Chelsea for me”

Kyras heart dropped at the next words that came out of your mouth “did they accept it?” She asked, her voice cracking and you nodded “I transfer in January” you told her, a single tear rolling down your face as her eyes watered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked and you looked to the floor “I didn’t know how too”.

The both of you stayed in your position in front of your door way as Kyra listed ways that you could still see each other “On our off days we can spend time with each other and also after games we can relax together, it will be easier than we think y/n” she told you and you nodded before bringing the girl into a kiss.

“I’m gonna miss my partner in crime” she smiled as you leaned in again.

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 1

james potter x reader time travel au | 3k words | contents

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00:00 — 1 JANUARY

James waited until he’d fallen into his childhood home, half-plastered and sad and staring himself in the eyes through his bathroom mirror. His gaze seemed colder, lonelier than usual, and when he splashed his face with cool water it chilled him to the bone.

He’d never been unsettled by solitude, never minded much retreating to an empty bed at the end of a long day. Until then.

That’s when he knew he had to go back.

+

“Pardon me.”

The voice from behind you was so sudden and deep that you jumped, whipping around clumsily to meet it.

“God, you startled me!”

Laying eyes on the man responsible, you instantly released any ill-will you had.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, and you were already quite smitten.

He was young, though surely not any younger than you. Handsome too, in a dismantling way, like he might take you apart if you were an old clock, just to see what made you tick.

And if he wasn’t young and handsome, he’d still gain a little credit just in looking so guilty for spooking you.

“Hi.”

This was January, and you were out on the veranda, so your breath escaped you visibly. You were aware of it trickling upward as the handsome man smiled shyly and introduced himself.

“I’m James.”

Leaning up against a white banister, you snuggled further into your shawl, watching him. He was a few steps above you, and taller by a lot anyways, so it posed a bit of a strain.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely name,” James commented, not missing a beat. It surprised you, but you rallied easily.

“And yours.” You sipped your drink, and when he hadn’t formed a response, decided to elaborate. “Classic.”

James ducked his head in a dashing sort of way, adding a little humility to the lethal mix of attractive traits he contained.

“Yeah, but don’t let it take any precedence. It's strangeness across the board for the rest of me.”

Your lips curled up at the corners.

“For some reason I think that’s true,” you teased, eyes shining with mirth.

There were lots of ways to be flirted with, several of which left a bad taste in your mouth and a loneliness that felt unquenchable in your chest, but this you liked.

James spoke like he was on his toes, constantly steeped in anticipation. If possible, he seemed to savor every moment while simultaneously rushing into better, deeper territory.

He came further down the steps then, and you appreciated the relief on your neck. The smell that drifted off of him was like honey and biscuits, perpetually warm on your senses, even in late winter.

“So how do you know Marlene,” James asked, and you felt the tightness of excitement in your chest realizing that he was going to stay and talk to you.

“Work,” you told him, “she’s a madwoman. Flirts with all the customers.”

James kept a polite distance from you, gravitating toward a patch of light from the windows. He wore a tailored suit that was primarily night blue, which somehow fit him with both strict lines and a charming rumpled messiness.

You wondered if he’d get any easier to look at.

“That sounds like Marly,” James agreed, looking fond. A tiny needle of jealousy pricked you, which was ridiculous, because if this were Marlene’s boyfriend she’d have been shouting it from the rooftops.

Clinging to that affirmation, you asked, “you two are familiar?”

Each of James’ hands held the opposite bicep in a half-hearted cross, aiding a small shrug.

“We went to school together.”

You nodded, growing envious for new reasons.

“That seems to be the theme around here. I’m sad I missed it.”

James smiled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it was boarding school? We had to share dorms all year.”

Fiddling with a ring on your finger, your gaze skipped to the square orange portal that led to the party inside. The window was one on the back wall of the parlor, and it became devastatingly easy to pick out the school club from the others inside. Marlene lounged beside other sharp girls and well-dressed guys, all of them laughing and bickering like siblings. You craved to be at the heart of it more than anything.

“Co-Ed?” you asked abruptly, tearing away from the vibrant crowd to see James’ face contort.

“No,” he laughed. “I roomed with Sirius, Remus and Frank.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Four to a room?”

James’ laugh thickened, his spectacles glinting white as his head tossed back. His amusement was acerbic, corrupting your bewilderment until it was lost to a goofy smile.

“I do feel much better, thank you,” you said. “Private school sounds awful.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, now,” he chided lightly.

An army of wind marched around the corner of the estate then, fighting through your thin shawl. James’ eyes traced your shivering frame as he stepped ever closer.

“Erm, hey, I was wondering—”

The patio door opened, delicate glass inlaid with iron, and yet your moment with James seemed the thing to shatter. A fair-skinned man stepped out, a hunt in his eyes, and you hoped whatever it was for wasn’t James.

Nyx-dark hair moved like shadows over the night sky, reflecting the party inside glossily. His head turned, and then he was laying eyes on your companion.

“James!” The man said, his poised effect splitting down the middle, revealing a collie’s energy. He motioned for James to meet him up on the landing. “C’mon mate, Remus has a plan.”

James shook his head simply.

“Do it without me, yeah?”

Something territorial swept over James’ friend’s face, and he suddenly looked you over. You were embarrassed to only warrant a millisecond of his attention.

“Bollucks,” he declared, challenging James to disagree. “Let’s go.”

Then he returned swiftly inside, leaving both French doors and your chest swung open. James sighed, the weight of a lost battle on his shoulders, and found your eyes again.

“Sorry, that’s Sirius,” he explained, and you supposed that would make sense.

“The roommate,” you provided. James nodded.

“I swear he’s nicer.”

You wouldn’t say you found him rude, just unfriendly. He certainly seemed warm, as did everyone at the party, but to a select few people. A select few that didn’t include you.

You said, “I’m sure.” If James thought someone was nice, they probably were. He seemed a good judge of character. Unless you had very poorly judged his character, which you wouldn’t put past yourself.

James winced. “I have to go. But, um—”

“James, mate, come on,” Sirius called from inside, and then he and another, taller man poked their heads out to check his progress in detaching himself from you.

“Alright, one second!”

You’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the people pleaser overriding your system, but you said, “it’s alright, James. You can go.”

It didn’t make him look any less torn. His head whipped back and forth between you and his friends, trying to find a solution.

Of course you wanted him to stay, but you didn’t want to hold him hostage, so you tried your best to look supportive of whatever he chose.

In the end, he stepped close to you, brows pinched with regret.

“I won’t be long. Will you—would you stay?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, choking back the clawing barrage of disappointment.

“‘Course,” you said.

James blew out a breath, relaxing his tense posture.

“I really swear it. Back before you can say ‘private school,’ yeah?”

You laughed weakly, taking a long look at him for memory.

“Yeah.”

Reluctantly, James backed away from you, then turned to climb the steps toward his friends. They were sagged with impatience, hanging onto his every step the same way you were, except for different reasons. In a way, you were more jealous of these two than you were of Marlene, because they were like James’ brothers. They knew him better than probably anyone, you guessed.

James hopped up onto the landing and glanced back to you, frowning slightly. The light from inside caught his lenses just so, hiding his eyes from you, and that small detail alone felt like the end of all things.

Then, Sirius and his accomplice took each of James’ arms and hauled him inside, shutting the doors behind them.

Shivering again, you watched the three of them appear in the window, heads bowed together in conspiracy. James looked different there, like something out of a movie. He snapped right into place with the rest of them, glittering and masterfully made.

It was clear he had a world of his own—one that you would likely never penetrate, no matter how badly you wanted for it, no matter how long you waited in the cold.

Marlene would forgive you for running off, but you’d never forgive yourself if you got sick for a silly dream, so you left the party and made peace with the what-if that was James.

+

James fell headfirst out of the cramped coat closet, cursing as his legs tangoed and lost to a tall pair of rain boots. In his fall, he took down with him three raincoats and a hanging organizer (six hats, a bucket of gloves, and five and half pairs of sandals).

He was already tired and fuming when he entered the closet, and now he felt he’d completely lose it any second. Disengaging from his fight with evil clothing, he scooched on his bum to the scrunched up hall runner that paved the Mckinnon’s entry.

Near the end of it someone cleared their throat, and James looked up to see Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the nosiest blokes in the world. Fantastic.

“Look who we have here,” said one twin, the other smiling wickedly, ready to pick up the second half of their routine snooping.

“Off for a snog-sesh with someone, are we, James?”

Battling to his feet, James let out a long-suffering sigh, already moving their way.

“Yeah, your mum,” he snarked.

As they both laughed, James prepared to push between them, but they parted before he had to. He walked through their flank, relieved yet nervous—the typical reaction those two elicited.

Leaving them behind, the narrow hall forked off into several different rooms, offices and kitchens and a library. James played here even before he was in school with Marlene, so he knew every corner like it was his own home. He headed for the parlor.

Even for someone who had never been in the house, finding James’ destination would be easy. All they had to do was follow the music.

In the parlor, chaise lounges were hardly visible under old school friends and their families, the walls lined with business partners and gossiping aunts. Smaller children ran amok, like birds weaving between a forest of mingling adults. The hearthfire hissed and spat, bound to take down at least one fashionably dressed lady before the year was over.

James swept his gaze over the bobbing heads and flying hands, looking for someone in particular. Sirius’ thick black hair beat like a raven's wing near the back of the room, so that’s where the bespectacled boy went.

On his path, Remus stood glued to a wall, looking very antisocial. He pinged from one crutch to another, taking up new residence at James’ side.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Had to take a piss,” James said casually. He’d grown accustomed to small lies like that, since no one knew about his little habit.

Remus didn’t question it, just picked through the crowd to where Sirius was.

“Padfoot,” James called, and he didn’t have to say anything else. Sirius excused himself and met the two of them without question, a silent understanding that forged the undercurrent of their friendship.

James led them all into another hall, one closer to the crystalline patio doors.

“I heard,” James started, “that Marlene has a pot stash somewhere ‘round here.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and James knew he had them. Even if they came up dry, the two of them would snoop just to snoop, and Remus obviously wanted away from the party anyways.

“Whereabouts do you think it is,” Sirius asked, looking at a mounted painting like it might be involved.

“Dunno,” James said, “but if we split up I bet we’d find it before the new year.”

Sirius grinned, and it spread onto Remus’ lips.

“I can take downstairs, and you and Pads can go up,” Remus said.

James shook his head.

“No, you two can go.” The two of them gave James skeptical looks, but he shrugged. “I have heavy footsteps, they’d hear me up there.”

Sirius’ expression cleared, and then he was nodding along. “Right.” He took Remus’ arm in his grasp and pulled him along. “Let’s go, Moony. I bet we can find some before Prongs.”

James heard Remus object that, “it’s only in one place,” before their conversation was lost by distance. Then, he turned around and pushed through the back doors, praying you were where he left you.

You were. Just like last time, your back was turned to him. You were staring at the clear sky, gripping your wrap close to your chest. James remembered that he’d startled you before, so he latched the doors as noisily as possible. You still didn’t come around.

He supposed that was for the best, actually, since he’d changed something already. He crept down the steps, feeling terrible for sneaking up on you, and wondering what you might’ve been thinking about that kept you so distracted.

“Pardon me,” James begged, and you spun around in shock.

“God, you startled me!”

James smiled, and your eyes trailed all over him. He couldn’t say he minded, since he was doing the same.

You reminded him of a mouse—shy but necessarily bold, holding yourself up outstandingly well as a stranger in a roomful of friends. That was, until you dipped outside and didn’t return.

“Sorry, hi,” he apologized, really meaning it this time. As expected, you smiled shyly, golden champagne tilting in the glass you held.

“Hi.”

A swath of mist escaped your mouth with the exhaled greeting. James had to remind himself that you didn’t remember the first time this happened, so you wouldn’t know his name.

“I’m James.”

You leant back, neck craning to keep his eyes. James stepped down to accommodate you, and your brows smoothed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s a pretty name,” James said, getting bolder. It was hard to hold himself away from you.

You dropped your head then, smiling primly at the stone steps.

“Thank you,” you said, instead of complimenting James in return.

James blinked. What happened?

“Yours—”

“I’m—”

James paused as you both spoke at the same time, looking at you the way someone might look at a tricky puzzle.

“Sorr—”

“You can—oh.”

Fingers pressed to your mouth, you looked at James, a tentative smile in your eyes. James sighed, and then laughed strangely. He motioned for you to go ahead, only to find your hand unfolding into the same gesture. Both of you stared at each other for a beat before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You go,” James said finally, smiling. You just shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

James squinted at your rosy cheeks, his lips picking up at the corners. You could lead a horse to water, he supposed.

The temptation to learn more about you began to win him over, so he bent a few rules.

“So you work with Marlene, I hear,” he spoke, fibbing ever so slightly.

You smiled a bit, none the wiser. “I do, yeah.”

James looked inside, checking for dark hair or an itchy sweater, but Remus and Sirius were still missing. Good.

“What’s that like?”

Brows furrowing, you followed his gaze.

“It’s…interesting. She’s really nice, but she—”

“Flirts with all the customers?” James supplied, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stared at him for a tick. “Yeah. You must know her?”

“Childhood friends,” James decided, nodding. When he turned back to you, you were raking your eyes over his dressy outfit, lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes found his, and you looked away. James thought he saw a flush to your cheeks.

The wind whipped around the corner then, and James began shouldering his thick jacket off, finally doing what he’d wanted to do before.

“You must be crazy,” he said, coming closer. “It’s freezing out here.”

You braved a look at him, and alarm sunk into your features.

“No, James, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be polite, lovely, you’re shivering. Here.”

James slowly held his coat over your shoulders, leaning back to watch you carefully. He saw the moment you accepted his offer, sinking back into the warmth the garment still held.

“Thank you,” you breathed as James pulled away. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, now looking to conserve heat.

“‘Course.”

Though his hands weren’t on you anymore, James stayed just as close as he was moments ago. He could smell the champagne in your glass. He glanced around to the garden, to your feet on the step, just below his.

“D’you want to head inside?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight, I think.”

Your lips turned up, and James hoped to God he’d get to kiss them.

“That sounds lovely.”

+

James flipped his phone open, the small screen giving off just enough light in his dark room to make him squint. He was wondering what you’d put for your contact—a smiley face, maybe, or a heart? He hoped you put a heart. It took his brain far too long to catch up to reality.

With a shock of gut-twisting dread, James realized he’d been so wound up over kissing you that he forgot to ask for your phone number. Your phone number.

He groaned, glancing at his bed longingly, but he knew he wouldn’t fall into it very soon. He’d go back a hundred times before he slept that night if it got him one date with you.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[doorp]

What started out as theories abt when the main cast died but got silly

Annabel + Lenore ✨

This one is pretty straightforward, there’s these Barbie movie redraws flynn did that shows Annabel and Lenore being caught by “NMPD nevermore police department” , with the year 1901 in the corner, implying that’s when they died and got sent to nevermore

This little 1901 in the corner is interesting on like a meta level to me bc 1. in the original Barbie meme theres no date on the slate thingies, so flynn decided to add that piece of info on her own, and 2. this was just after episode 67 came out (on fp I think) and uh little tidbit, before that episode there was a theory that Theo died in like the 1860s or something based on the logo in the newspaper abt his death, the ny daily tribune, and after episode 67 came out and ira mentioned a ship that wasn’t available for public use until 1899 on the discord we were trying to do mental gymnastics to make the 2 dates work but then red came on like “please we accidentally grabbed the wrong logo it’s meant to read new York tribune not New York daily tribune its fixed now we fixed it please” and then a few days later they streamed doing this piece

Anyway, ira talks about the oceanic, which was “the finest ocean liner in the world” the *largest ocean liner in the world* until 1901

The RMS oceanic had its maiden voyage in September of 1899, at the beginning of fall. Annabel says she arrived in New York a fortnight before meeting Lenore, presumably during the spring. Annabel arrives at lenores house in april/may of 1900, spends six months there, and then leaves around the fall, probably somewhere around September or October. Lenore then spends a few months doing her thing and then arrives at her family’s home in either December 1900 or January 1901, during the winter. HERES where it gets interesting. We can assume that Annabel died in the cold, from her spectres chilling atmosphere and all together appearance of corpse in a freezer. She even has frostbite on her fingers and toes, as well as snowflake like glitter in her veil. We can also assume she died on her wedding day, the way she wears her rings on different hands and her wedding dress in spectre form. So if she died in the cold and on her wedding day, then when was her wedding, and how could it be in winter?

heres my 2 theories

1. Lenore beats Annabel at chess just for funsies fairly quickly after arriving, then they try to elope and get caught by their dads

2. Lenore courts Annabel, wins her hand, and they get engaged. Since engagements usually lasted around 6 months to 2 years, their engagement could have been anywhere from however long it takes Lenore to win at chess to December 1901. If their wedding day was in November/December, that means Lenore got away with pretending to be a man for a whole YEAR and they spent that year just being gay and shit/doing schemes.

I personally like option 2 more bc its just sadder that they did get away w it for a while then ultimately got caught - it would also explain why Annabel is just SO into Lenore, if all she remembers is that year they spent being all sneaky and gay and shit, it would explain how she’s just used to flirting and holding onto Lenore in secret. It would also explain why Annabel assumes Lenore is up to scheming at nevermore. if they eloped a few weeks after they reunited it would still be like yeah that makes sense they are such u haul lesbians, but them becoming sneaky codependent gays ripped from each other on their wedding day just hurts more and makes more sense time/character wise

Duke - 1912, maybe even 1912 specifically, idk

Duke has a coin that’s dated to 1912, and Eulalie says it looks brand new. There’s been arguments about wether or not the coin is actually newly minted, but I don’t think we can say for sure. It might not matter either way- I have a theory that the suit cases the students carry aren’t actually random personal items of interest, but a suitcase they packed right before a pivotal event in their lives. Perhaps Duke does have newly minted coins in his suitcase, but he didn’t actually die in 1912. Also! Duke is implied to be a Houdini like figure, so I imagine he’s not later than the 20s.

Pluto - 1914 ish

Plutos spectre wears a British ww1 military uniform, its debated wether or not the jacket was his dads or his, but regardless he couldn’t have died earlier than 1914. Pluto is named after the cat in the short story called The Black Cat by Edgar Allan poe. In the story a cat named Pluto gets its eye slashed out by its drunken owner, eventually getting hung from a tree by the man. Theres obvious references to the story in Plutos design and shit overall, when he manifests a belt snaps around his neck implying he died from strangulation, his spectre has like, a pluming collar/leash of smoke around its neck, his spectre looks like it’s made of ash kinda (someone described him as a burnt rabbit to me once) which is probably a reference to the part in the story where the man’s house burns down, only 1 wall remaining erect, with the image of a black cat scorched into it. Plutos eye is covered by his hair, he walks into a door frame, he’s got spectre abilities called “blink” and “evil eye” so w Pluto until we get more info it’s no earlier than 1914 if you subscribe to the Pluto went to war theory or no earlier than like, say the 20s? if you subscribe to the Plutos dad was a vet theory

Berenice - 1920s

Shes a flapper, cmon. shes from the 1920s. Look at her. We already know she was run over by a cop car after running from some guy, and I tried to look into where the cop car was from but i didn’t have much luck. mostly just confirmed the era, when I searched cop cars of the 1920s pretty similar images to the one that killed bee show up. A few others I think have looked into it more? but im not completely sure. There’s been a lot of theories about where Berenice is from, I’ve seen Louisiana, Chicago, Harlem (Harlem renaissance specifically) but there’s not a lot of conclusive info about Berenice. we know her pearls were real, in the way they scattered, so she had so have some means of affording them. Pearls are held together on a string, but only real pearls have pieces of metal between the pearls to keep them from rubbing against each other. Bees pearls scatter in long strings, not completely all over the place like fake pearls without that structure would.

Eulalie - 1935

The song Eula sings in her death flashback is a Japanese lullaby that was rediscovered in 1935. Its a popular theory that Eulalies death was a hate crime, a fire started because of hate towards Japanese Americans during ww2. She probably died in the forties in america, I don’t think she died in Hiroshima or Nagasaki, the fire that killed her isnt how atomic bombs would have killed her. The kid she sings to asks if someone started the fire on purpose, so imo it was likely a hate crime.

Morella - 1950s - 70s??

Okay so, Morella. we know the least about her. with will we can guess that he was lower class and stuff, but all we know abt Morella is that she’s Irish. Shepards pie and Guinness is pretty timeless. The reason I say 50s to 70s is bc according to Remigoesinsane the clasp to her locket started to be used around that time! that’s all I have on her tbh, a theory of mine is that she died in a factory accident trying to save someone when the machinery went crazy, but that’s mostly it.

Ada - 1930s

Ada’s clothes in her death flashback match those worn by maids in the 1930s, and the lingerie she wears in the manor also matches lingerie worn in the 30s. It would also make sense for Ada’s character to be from the 30s. That decade was called the “somber thirties” bc of how fucked up the economy was after the stock market crash. It was a major time of economic disparity, and Ada’s obsession with trying to seem upper class elite could stem from not having much when she died. She probably sees nevermore as a blank slate, a place where people will see her as more than just “the help” would also make sense that the man that killed her was a rich guy using his power to take advantage of her and get away with the crime. Especially since the poem, Tamerlane, was from the pov of a rich guy lamenting a relationship he had with a lower class girl named Ada.

Prospero ✨

PROSPERO! prospero drinks espresso with his chosen last meal, which was invented in 1901. I think he died from tuberculosis. For a long time a major cause of death has been tuberculosis. So much so that Victorians made it a beauty standard. A major inspiration of Poe himself was tuberculosis, in the masque of red death, along with the grief he was left with after his wife died from it. It rots your lungs, makes you cough up your bloodied respiratory system until you suffocate in it. In the maze, prospero says he felt queasy, like something was crawling under his skin when he died. When prospero cuts his hand, he says he’s going to be sick, and tells Annabel that he’s afraid of blood. (Probably specifically his own blood bc u know he was feeding people to rats like minutes before that) This, coupled with the imagery of blood pouring out from his plague mask when he says the “queasy, like something was crawling under my skin” line, makes me think his death involved a lot of blood! And as I said before tuberculosis was like really gross and bloody and gory. Furthermore, this quote from the writer is SO interesting

In the poem prosperos namesake is in, the masque of red death, the prince prospero, hiding and ignoring a sickness ravaging his country, decides to host a huge party! Everyone’s having a grand old time, the festivities only pausing when the clock strikes, leaving everyone in a dread filled silence, the party picking up almost immediately after and brushing it off. Eventually the plague does get in though and kill them all because they ignored the feeling of dread.

The prince and the party goers die because the prince is blissfully and willfully ignorant of the disease. Bc their hubris didn’t allow them to see the threat of it. Nevermores prospero, however, is obsessed with staying healthy/hygienic as possible. He wears his gloves even when he eats, hates being touched, almost throws up when he cuts his hand. He hallucinates a thousand dirty hands grabbing him and trying to perform an operation on him with disgusting germy tools. He sees the hand he cut amputated, imagining that the wound got so infected that it had to be removed. He stares in horror at his hand before Ada even makes eye contact with him. My theory is Prospero grew up hearing terrible stories of people dying from infection, disease. He heard of people slowly drowning in their own blood. He decided to take every precaution, he simply wouldn’t allow that to be his fate. After Ada attacks him he tells Annabel “you must think me neurotic” for being so upset over the blood on his hand. This feels, so specific and intentional to me. Not just because Annabel dealt with her anxiety and her dad treating her panic attacks like he did, and this is a whole “omg look they’re bonding” moment, but bc, immediately after he tries to assure her that “im not, you know, im perfectly sane” like shit like this has happened before, where ppl called him neurotic for being that sick at the sight of his own blood, or that obsessed with hygiene. The irony being that, he spent his life obsessing over staying healthy, so much so that people called him neurotic, only to die that slow gory death anyway.

That whole, prospero dying from tb tangent aside tho, how it correlates to the time of his death. He probably died in the early 1900s, the earliest being 1901-1906ish, bc again, that’s when espresso started gaining popularity. My guess is he died around the 20s, ik the tb vaccine came out around the 20s, but people still died of it after and are still dying/contracting it today, and in the 20s there were a lot of Italians emigrating to America, and prospero is so aggressively Italian American (eating espresso and cannoli with chocolate chips for his last meal) that it’d make sense. So woo!

Monty - 1910s

Monty is a cowwwwboyyyyyy. The Wild West pretty much tapered out around the early 1900s. He can’t be that recent. He also mentions calamity Jane so that definitely puts him past the 1800s. He seemed to have a pretty wild life, kicked in the head by a horse, tooth knocked out by a human, tied to train tracks and left for dead after calling the pastors daughter loose. crazy guy crazy time

Will ???

Will is so plain i cannot get a read on where hes from im sorry

obligatory thank you for making it to the end, I barely made it myself, this was sitting in my drafts for weeks before I decided to just get it over with. <<333

[aurorawest]

I finished The Mars House last night and have been trying to gather my thoughts beyond ADJFAWEHDHA; and AHHHHHHHH. Let's see how this works out.

In a lot of ways this is a pretty typical Natasha Pulley book, which makes you love complicated people who have done bad things, possibly for good reasons and possibly not. The love interest is to all appearances a xenophobic nationalist, but you better believe I loved Gale pretty much immediately.

In other ways this book is different from her past work—obviously there's the far future setting, but it's pretty clear that Pulley wanted to Say Something about gender with The Mars House. This book is a response to and shots fired at the terf ideology and it is not at all subtle about it. And of course, it's a Natasha Pulley book, so there's still empathy for the far-future Martian terfs.

So I would definitely call it the most...political? of her books, which for me was not at all a bad thing. It has everything that I love about Pulley novels—her gorgeous use of language, her ability to wring beauty and pathos out of the small and ordinary, the gay pining, the morally dubious main characters. I've seen reviews say both that the science is ridiculous and that the book is hard science fiction, and I would come down on the side of the science probably being a bit ridiculous, since it's definitely not hard science fiction (lol at the reviewers who are throwing that term around and not knowing what it means). I actually have no idea if the science is plausible or not and I honestly don't care, because that's really not the point of the book.

Anyway, now I'm just going to list things. Doing a read more for spoilers! And I'm not joking, I'm going to spoil the whole book under here so really, if you haven't read it and you care about that, don't keep reading.

The worldbuilding was so good. I mean, this is one of Pulley's strengths, but I had wondered how it would stack up in a sci fi novel versus her historical fiction. As usual, everything was so visceral and textured. Tharsis and Songshu feel like real places I could visit.

THE MAMMOTHS OMG OMG. When they decided to ask the mammoths for help pulling up the gravity train, I almost jumped up from the couch yelling (I would have, but I couldn't disturb my cat who was on my legs). The entire idea of communicating with mammoths and studying mammoth society almost made me cry. Having spent even a tiny amount of time around elephants in the wild, all of that rang 100% plausible. And true in my heart.

I need a sequel where River and January go to Alpha Centauri to talk to the aliens that the Penglai mission is going to find there.

I'M ABOUT TO SPOIL THE ENTIRE BOOK SO DON'T READ ANYMORE IF YOU DON'T WANT THAT.

Speaking of River, yeah I guessed that "Aubrey" was actually River. The clues were well done and I felt smug when I was right.

But!! I actually thought River knew more than they did! A literal chill went up my back when River revealed they had NO IDEA AUBREY WAS LITERALLY IN THEIR ROOM WITH THEM.

The scene in River's bathtub had me screaming crying throwing up.

Is Natasha Pulley working through something re: waifish orphans? I knew Yuan was going to end up being adopted into House Song within pages of their (his?) introduction.

I love that we never find out if River is biologically male or female. I love that January says it doesn't matter and he means that and never tells us.

Speaking of gender abolition, can I have that please for myself.

All of the animals were, as always, a delight. Shoutout to the puffin at the beginning who we never see again, as well as Shuppiluliuma in her basket.

The ancient Mediterranean references littered through this book (see above) were also a delight.

When you think about it, both of Aubrey's consorts fell for River, and that's funny.

The flashes of love between River and Aubrey were devastating.

The haptic implants are a dystopian nightmare and absolutely a realistic prediction of where we're going to end up.

Mori and Daughter!!

[yandere-to-express]

The goth and thembo

Gn

“Detention?! Already?! You just got here a month ago!”

Y/n sighed, already expecting this reaction from their homeroom teacher. Granted, the punishment wasn’t for anything too bad; they just slept in a lot more than they meant to, and the “jet-lag” excuse after moving their whole life across the Atlantic for their parents’ careers must have worn off after the first few weeks. Honestly, with the lack of sleep and stress catching up to them? They thought they were lucky they were making it into school and managing homework at all.

They nodded along as the teacher droned on about responsibility – as if they hadn’t heard it a thousand times over at home already – pretending to listen as the hyperactivity in their brain buzzed and clouded over any form of caring enough.

Hmm, what would they have for dinner tonight? Pasta’s easy, and their parents weren’t going to be back until late in the evening, so they might as well try cooking whilst they could. Maybe clean up and do whatever bullshit homework they were given today so they don’t forget...They should play Animal Crossing, their town was probably itching for all the weeds to be pulled out, maybe a little bit of Pokémon after too, not Crystal though, the battery went all funky on the cartridge...

“...We can work out a way to prevent this from happening again,” came Mrs Stewart’s stern voice through the brain fog and, oh, no, why would she say that? Y/n nodded hesitantly in response, internalising all their complaints. ”Because this can’t happen again, Y/n. You’ve been an excellent student from what I’ve seen and heard so far, and it would be a real shame for this to drag you down.”

“It won’t happen again, I’ll work on it,” Y/n lied through their teeth, hazel eyes attempting to keep to one spot on the teacher’s face, but failing. Mrs Stewart nodded, features finally relaxing. Somehow, she believed them.

“Good, see to it you do. You may go, you’ll be late for second period otherwise.”

“Detention isn’t so bad,” Lucy reassured, making her voice loud enough to be heard over the din of the dining hall. “I had one for a late assignment last semester. It was actually kinda chill, you hear the weirdest stories in there, but it’s really fun.”

Y/n sipped from their drink with a frown, pushing their messy brown hair from their face as they tried to listen. They’d been buddied up with Lucy when they arrived back in January, meaning they were now stuck with all the loud kids at lunch. They weren’t complaining, mind you, the company was nice! It just gave them a headache at best, and at worst so far...Well, they didn’t understand what was wrong with them, but they’d rather not think about it. Anxiety was enough of a diagnosis for them right now.

“Look, I’m just saying, it’ll be fine! Try not to fall asleep in there, though, you might get into more trouble.”

“Thanks, Lucy, real great advice,” they rolled their eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm as they bit into their apple. Lucy just shrugged with a wink.

“Anytime, Y-Y.”

The lunch period continued as usual, and soon enough the bell ringed for the next round of classes to start. Great. Just what they needed right now, two hours sugar-coated history of a country they knew nothing about when they felt like falling asleep at any moment, right before detention. Still, they couldn’t just skip, that’d earn extra punishments. So, they dragged their feet through the halls, somehow staying upright through the hustle and bustle that was 10 times worse than the now seemingly very small Secondary School in England that they’d left behind for this. As much as they hated to admit it, Y/n would love to hear another British accent loudly proclaim someone had cheated on so-and-so in the middle of the corridor, but, alas, that was an experience they’d never burden again. Instead, they had to fight for their life with exhaustion as thousands of students streamed into their classes with the force of a burst pipe.

Somehow, they made it in, grunting at the greeting the person who sat next to them gave – their name was TK, right? They were too tired to remember or care – and flopping down in their chair with a sigh. Curse these huge American schools with huge American student, their poor feet felt like they were going to drop off!

Soon enough, the History teacher – Mr Russel – started his droning on about some time when alcohol was banned across the nation. Or, uh, something like that, Y/n wasn’t really paying attention, doodling on the corners of their pages instead. They did the work! They just didn’t soak in the information. Mr Russel said it was good work later on, so clearly they were doing something right regardless.

Suddenly though, in the middle of the lesson, the door slammed open and a pissed off, lanky ball of edge strode in. The teacher frowned at the intrusion.

“Well, good afternoon, Mr King! Would you mind explaining where you’ve been?”

The student just kept walking, grunting something about being dress-coded, which, uh, yeah that seems likely with that thin mesh shirt in the middle of February, Y/n thought, not realising they were staring by the time the kid sat in the vacant seat next to them. He caught their gaze as Mr Russel continued the lesson, narrowing his piercing, bright blue eyes.

“What?” he snarled, making Y/n flush with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

“S-Sorry,” they quickly whispered, trying their hardest not to look his way again, catching glimpses of him looking bored throughout the lesson.

Little did they know, that wouldn’t be the last they’d see of him.

“Who was that?!” they blurted to TK once the lesson ended, seeing as the goth kid had already left. TK looked up at them from their packing, startled.

“W-Who?”

“Goth kid with the attitude! How come I’ve never seen him before?!”

“Oh, him,” TK grimaced, turning their attention back to their bag. “Yeah, uh, that’s Peter King. Gets into fights and stuff a lot, and honestly that’s what he’s like on a good day. In fact, that’s gotta be the calmest I’ve ever seen him. You have detention, right? He’ll be in there because of the dress-code violation, try not to stare again.”

And so, once they both said goodbye, Y/n trudged along to their doom, knowing they couldn’t stop themself from staring again if the opportunity came about.

Because, honestly? As intimidating as he was, this “Peter” character was rather intriguing. They’d wanted to get into gothic dress themself recently, maybe if they miraculously befriended him, he’d say where he got his gear from. Maybe not the mesh tee...Maybe. At least, not until the Summer...And definitely not without a tank top or a binder...

Soon they reached the classroom detention was being held in, noticing that, well, no one was actually going inside. They spotted the goth from before, swallowing their anxiety down since he was the only one who they really knew of and recognised, and fumbled their way towards him nervously.

“U-Um...” they began, stuttering with uncertainty. Peter looked down with a frown.

“What do you want,” he growled, practically baring his teeth and oh goodness his teeth don’t be into him you don’t know him Y/n you weirdo.

“I-I, um, this is detention, r-right?” they carried on, shrinking under his stare. “I-I’m sorry for staring earlier b-by the way, um, you look c-cool...”

Peter stared a little longer, brows furrowing deeper.

“U-Um...I’m Y/n by the way.”

...That gaze was intense holy shit, Y/n couldn’t help but look away with heated cheeks, sweating nervously. Oh, man, they’d got off on the wrong foot and he wasn’t interested in fixing that, was he?! They didn’t want an enemy! TK said he fights people, God, they hoped he wouldn’t want to fight them ! They couldn’t knock out a butterfly!

“...Peter,” he finally said, making Y/ look back up in surprise. He was looking away from them...Was he blushing? No, no, maybe their eyes were just really tired. “You’re in the right place, teacher’s just late. Uh...Thanks. I guess. The teacher who dress-coded me certainly didn’t think so.”

“U-Uh huh, w-well, what do they know, huh,” Y/n laughed nervously, trying to ease whatever tension they could sense emanating off of the other in droves. “T-They’re teachers, they aren’t the best as, um, fashion, I guess?”

Peter scoffed, shoulders relaxing a little as he pushed some of the long, dark hair out of his face.

“You’re tellin’ me, first day back after suspension and they pull this shit.”

This drew a more earnest giggle from Y/n (really, Y/n, giggling ?!), making Peter chuckle a little too, tension fading away more with each passing second.

Soon enough the assigned teacher showed up, apologising profusely and letting the students in. They answered a brief roll-call, and soon enough there was a muted chatter among the kids, some choosing to work, others ignoring all school-related possibilities. Somehow, Y/n had already befriended the lanky goth enough for him to instantly sit at the desk next to theirs, and they found themselves being watched as they attempted the bullshit Math homework that had been assigned earlier in the day. Not that they minded, they figured the other didn’t have much to talk about, and that was fine with them. It gave them more of a chance to focus, after all.

After about 20 minutes, however, Peter finally spoke up.

“...So what’re you in for?” he asked, voice gravelly and interrupting Y/n concentration. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. “You definitely didn’t get coded, and you look way too small to fight anything.”

Ouch, harsh, not everyone is over 6’ and can fight God. “Um, it’s not that special,” they shrugged, choosing to ignore the slight insult. “I, um, I just slept in a whole lot.”

“Huh,” he nodded, looking away absently for a moment, as if he were thinking of what to say next. “...Not a great sleeper, huh?”

“Nope, haven’t been since I was, what, 5?” Y/n sighed, trying to make sense of the equation on the page in front of them.

“Ah.”

The two were silent again, but y/n couldn’t help but feel it was much more awkward now. It felt like they both had things to say but didn’t know how to string the words together.

“...So, um...” they began, fumbling for a topic. “...Where’d you get your choker?”

“Oh. Uh, just Hot Topic,” he answered, looking away almost sheepishly. “It was on sale, so...”

“Cool, I’ll have to get one,” Y/n hummed, quickly writing it down on their hand.

The conversation came and went throughout the rest of the remaining 40 minutes, but soon enough the detention ended. The class of kids streamed out, Y/n and Peter being the last ones to leave as they trudged out of the school and into the crisp, late-Winter air, clunky shoes and warm boots crunching the powdering of snow on the ground beneath them. They reached the gate, Y/n pointing to where they were going, and the boy paused.

“Hey, uh, you have a cell?” he asked almost hopefully (almost). Y/n looked up at him in surprise; they hadn’t expected to befriend him so soon!

“O-Oh! Yeah, hang on, let me, um-” the fumbled in their coat pockets finally producing the little pink flip-phone, little rainbow and star charms attached and all, clicking through to their contact and holding it up to offer him a view. “Um, here!”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, quickly typing in the contact details on his own, clunky little phone. He looked back at them, almost pouting. “Uh...You were fun to talk to...I’ll talk to you later I guess?”

y/n smiled brightly up at him with a nod, waving cheerfully as they walked away.

...How did this happen to him?

There he was being pissed off at the world when suddenly... They got all fucking cute. How could this not happen to him?!

As he watched them walk away, clutching his phone desperately, he began to grin sinisterly.

He may as well make sure that...his new Darling got home safe, right? He’d get to see their home in the process, after all, and, oh, it was always so dark so early on February nights like these, he wouldn’t want anyone getting any bright ideas, would he?

And so, he stalked after them silently as the sun set, y/n blissfully unaware of the Hell they’d brought upon themself that day.

(I saved this story file that got deleted original from inkblot_skyz)

[thylaseraph]

JANUARY, 1995

It’s a shooting day and Dean’s ears are ringing with the pop of the .22 that’s growing heavy in his hands. At Bobby’s house he always has to wear earmuffs when he shoots; usually Dean complains because they look stupid, but right now his ears are so frozen he’s wishing he had a pair of his own.

He points the muzzle at the ground and shakes his head out, cupping a stiff hand to his cheek. There’s exactly zero blood flow happening in his face, and the cold makes each shot ring out so loudly he has to try not to flinch. And his socks are wet. Pretty miserable shit.

John’s on his way back from replacing the target, face grim.

“How’d I do?” Dean calls. Too loud, judging from the way his dad scowls.

“You’re blowing through ammo and you only got six on the page.”

Dean slumps. “Crap.”

“Yeah, it is. You need to get your shit together, I can tell your heart isn’t in this. You reload yet?”

Dean sniffles, even though he can’t feel his nose, either. “No.”

“No?”

“No, sir.”

“So get going. Show me you can do better.”

Dean’s fingers feel like ten useless icicles. He slides the chamber open and clink-clink-clinks ten bullets inside, then carefully closes the action. The Beretta is a testy bitch that jams constantly. Dad only trusts it for training and seems likely to chuck it soon.

He barely seems affected by the chill. Mostly he looks bored. “Go on and take a few steps forward. Ladies’ tee until you get ‘em all on the page, and then we’ll think about moving you back again.”

Dean’s skin crawls with embarrassment and he wants to protest—he could do better if it were warmer and if he weren’t so tired already—but obediently he moves closer to the target.

“Alright.”

He raises the gun and clicks the safety off. He’s probably more cautious with it than John cares, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

The target is a sheet of paper with orange circles pinned to a stump surrounded by casings. He lines the center up in his sight and then aims a little lower to compensate because the Beretta shoots high. God, if Dean could get his hands on that ivory-grip Colt, he’d die happy.

He empties her out, gets about nine bullets on the page. Four of them land tight in the center. The stray shot is only because he overcorrected his aim at first.

He turns back to his dad with a grin on his face, feeling pretty proud. There’s a pleasant buzz of warm feeling in his nose and eartips along with the ringing in his ears as he traipses back to the ammo box. “Not so crappy, huh?”

John shakes his head. “Dunno where you learned to be such a brag.”

“What am I supposed to be, humble? Pass.” He squats by the box, breathing on his numb hands before delicately picking up the bullets. “Hard pass.”

“Being humble is what keeps you alive. Nine out of ten only seems good on a target that doesn’t move. It isn’t your best—or it shouldn’t be.” John’s silence is as unforgiving as his voice. Dean watches his words sink through the winter air like smoke.“We stay here until you can actually hit what you’re aiming at.”

Through no fault of his own, Dean’s mouth is suddenly letting loose the complaint he’s been trying to hold in. “Come on, give me a break, Dad. It’s freezing, and I’m tired, and I’m about to have frostbite on my carpal tunnel. I feel like I can barely pull the damn trigger!”

His father’s boots crush against the frozen ground louder than a gun. He looks up quickly, stomach dropping. Dad and his rifle make a stark silhouette against the cold white sky above.

“You don’t ever speak to me like that again. You sound like your brother, like some insolent child, not a man I’d trust with my weapon. I know I taught you better than this. When lives depend on you, are you still gonna be making excuses? Are you gonna be whining about the weather when it’s your bad aim that gets somebody killed? Is it gonna be the trigger’s fault when you get yourself killed?”

“No, sir,” Dean replies, heart beating in his throat.

“You’re laughing, you’re fucking around, I can see you’re not taking this seriously. You still don’t understand the stakes. Think about Sam—you know whose fault it’ll be if you can’t take care of him or the lives you say you want to protect?”

“My fault, sir. Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Don’t be begging for respect when you haven’t earned it. The only reason we’re still out here is you. You being cold and tired right now is on you. This is all in your control. Your life is in your own hands, nobody else’s. Do you understand that?”

His eyes are so heavy.

Dean nods and looks down, unable to speak. He is so stupid.

The dry air is hurting his head; he won’t be surprised if they get back to the cabin and find Sam with a bloody nose. Kid’s got a fragile sinus. The sooner Dean makes this, the sooner they can get back. He loads fast.

“Sam told me that you went hunting,” John says, tone slipping back to conversational.

“Yeah,” Dean says, grateful as he slides the clip home. “Bobby showed us how to do animal calls.”

“Being able to hunt and eat what you’ve killed is important. For when you have to keep yourself fed, but for building character, too. A hunter should be able to hunt.”

“And fish,” Dean adds. “Hey, we should go again soon.”

John nods, the barest hint of warmth. “My point is, everything you need to survive should be in your power. Your gun is your second most important tool after grit. Even when you won’t know if you will survive, you have to know that you can survive.”

Dean nods, and after a few seconds of silence, he supplies, “Bobby makes good venison chili.” He doesn’t mention that Bobby specifically said John was not invited to any of his suppers.

“You get one?” John asks. “A deer?”

Dean stands slowly, thumbing the safety. He doesn’t click it off, yet, and he keeps it pointed at the ground. Like Bobby keeps cussing him out about. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

Dean’s mouth is sour, the pit in his stomach is growing again, and somehow he’s sweating. John sounds like he knows the answer why.

Dean clicks the safety off and Dad doesn’t even look twice, just waits. Dean walks back to his spot and gets into position. Behind him, John sighs. He sounds so tired.

“If you can’t even kill a deer, how do you think you’re gonna be able to shoot things that look human?”

Dean aims at the target and tries to breathe. The freeze is in his lungs, now, January’s teeth seizing his insides so every inhale is sharp. The target wavers in his sight as he tries to keep his hands still. It’s just an orange circle. Just a tree stump. Just practice, so he’s fine.

He exhales slowly, finger curling around the trigger. He’s fine and he’s got this.

“I mean, what am I supposed to think, Deanna,” John says lowly, voice pinched with disappointment, “you tell me you want me to treat you like a man, but you can’t even—”

Dean fires, ten rounds in steady, thundering succession until the ringing in his ears drowns out the sound of the chamber clicking empty.

The target is in tatters. He thinks they all landed.

His chest is still tight, and raw, and like maybe something has shaken loose or broken free. With shaking hands, he zips up his jacket, and then he turns and walks to his father’s side.

“It’s Dean,” he says thinly. He clears his throat and adds, “Sir.”

John’s looking at him and Dean can’t make out what’s going on behind his eyes. After a moment he nods, and then jerks his head toward their gear. “Pack up.”

As Dean’s cleaning up—collecting fallen casings and discarded targets, and making sure every gun is unloaded and every safety is on because Sam always pokes around even when they tell him not to—John claps him on the shoulder. His voice is soft again.

“I’m just worried about you, I need you to know that. I want you to be able to take care of yourself and Sammy when I’m not around. This world is mean, and cold, and it’ll tear you apart. I can be hard on you kids…I push you too hard, I know it, and it still won’t be enough to keep you safe. And that kills me.”

John cups the back of his head. Dean meets his eyes and sees a world in there that he can’t begin to fathom. “You did good today, Dean, really good. I don’t want you to think I have any doubts—about how strong you are, and how brave. And I trust I can depend on you, son.”

Somewhere inside Dean, a knot loosens, like he’s finally been allowed to breathe a little. It’s good.

[thatone-brightstar]

Before You (Carmen Berzatto X Fem!OC)

It was Isaac before Carmy, and it was Ross before you.

Part I: December.

Part II: January.

Part III: February.

words: 3.4k

a/n: Welcome all to the second part of my TB & TF series!! This is a prequel to the first part, so if you haven't read that, you can either read this first then the other one or vise versa. Also, this is me kinda just adding personal experience to her story because as a hostess, I think we don't get credit enough for having to deal with some people's shit (sigh) however, she's her own character so feel free to relate however you please. Another thing, I wrote this before S2 came out, so any coincidence with the firework scene in Ep5 is just me being ✨psychic✨ Enjoy! XX

No amount of deep breaths could calm the blistering anger circulating through her system. Her quickening steps move across the dining hall of the stupidly ostentatious restaurant she has the misfortune of working at. From the elegant decorum and the expensive menu, she can pinpoint the exact type of diners the place hosts: terrible, horrible, shitty people. And while she’s completely against placing anyone under any category, New York socialites seemed to never want to leave the rooted stereotype of being pompous, rude and extremely annoying.

Her theory had been proven correct once more after spending the last 10 minutes getting berated for not seating a walk-in on one of the busiest nights of the month. 

“You should save a table of that size for these situations…” The insufferable trust fund baby spat at her and all the self composure in the world could not stop the words from leaving her  mouth.

“Maybe send us a heads up by telepathy next time and I’ll try and catch it…” She had mumbled sarcastically, hoping that the background noise would drown it out as she tapped meaninglessly around the tablet.

It did not. And now her mouth was coated with the metal taste of blood that had oozed from her bitten tongue. She usually wasn’t this easy to frustrate, it took more than a pretentious jackass to destabilize her mood- especially in her line of work- but the weight of the day crashed on tiresome shoulders and the little manbitch past the podium had just been the spoiled cherry on top. 

The smooth Jazz is replaced by the sharp sounds of metal clinging against each other once she pushes past the service doors, in direction to the back alley. Her presence pulls a few looks from the chefs, but with a hardened scowl and a rigid stance, only an idiot would be aloof to the irritation detaching off her in not so subtle waves.

“Yo Ross, baby-” One of the cooks shouts, but is soon silenced by a threatening look and pointed finger.

“Fuck you Frank- not now.” She spits back, without even stopping or wasting any more time.

The frigid winter air finds a worthy opponent in the heat cursing through her veins as she crosses the emergency exit and drops against the brick wall with hands around her face, fully embracing the cold. A muffled groan vibrates through her fingers and blends in seamlessly with the usual sirens and horns blaring from the street ahead. It doesn’t take long for the dropping temperature to catch up to her- numbing the balls of her fingers and painting the tip of her nose red- but her manager told her to take five to calm down and she would not oppose to stealing company time, even if it meant freezing her ass off.

Ross pushes herself off the grimy wall and begins to tread along the small alley to warm up while she tries to talk herself out of quitting for what feels like the fifth time that month. 

“Chill, okay? You’ll find shitty people everywhere-” Her voice swims around the reduced space, comfortable in the privacy of her own company. “Besides, next one’s the good one and you can say goodbye to this shithole wrapped in a Gucci sweater…”

The noise of the busy kitchen pierces her bubble when the door opens again, blinding her with the white light while a body passes through, then closing back again and leaving them with the dim yellow bulb fighting to stay lit. 

“Ross.” He greets with a single nod of his head as his eyes spot her in the darkness, pulling a beaten up package from his pocket and lighting the thin tube with one of those long kitchen lighters he always seems to carry.

“Chef.” She answers back with a similar nod. 

Her cheeks carry a crimson that goes beyond the freezing cold, embarrassed to think that he might have heard her little self pep talk and she’s thankful for the lack of lighting in the space. The sound of his steady exhales and the lingering scent of tobacco slowly make their way to her as she keeps her eyes on the ground, uncomfortable shoes rubbing away over the pavement in distraction. 

“You, uh, you good?” He clears his throat and shuffles against the wall, switching from one overworked foot to another. 

They’ve probably only ever crossed a couple sentences despite her working there for almost a year, but she tries to hide the doubt behind a nod. 

“Uh… y-yeah. Another day, another shitty customer.” She jokes in hopes to break the barrier of ice, though it seems to be thicker than she expected, because all she gets is another nod that has her wanting to scurry back inside. 

“What’d they tell you now?” He asks through another smoky exhale. 

“That he’s friends with the head chef and that he’d have my head if I didn’t give ‘em a table…” 

“That’s bull-“ He says, sucking in his cheeks and making the ember tip glow bright orange. “I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah that’s what I told him too.” Ross adds and receives the wisp of a snigger in return. 

It’s small and almost unnoticeable- so tiny it could be confused with a cough- but it’s there. And the ice wall doesn’t seem as thick as she thought now. 

“So did you?” The chef asks again, cigarette halfway finished while she tries to keep her teeth from chattering. “Let ‘em in, I mean..”

“Like hell I did.” She responds before rolling her eyes. “But fucking Martin probably did…” 

He nods his head slowly in acknowledgement, then lets another soft breath blow through his nose, smoke and vapor invisible in the low light. “I can send ‘em a shitty stake if you want.”

Ross knows it’s a joke, no respectable chef in the building would ever ruin a $300 Kobe beef just to spite a shitty client, but the solidarity in his offer grants him her own smile. 

“Nah, I’ll just ask the bartender to pour ‘em the cheap stuff so they get a hangover tomorrow.” 

Despite wanting to continue the unforeseen interaction- mostly out of scientific curiosity- the cold seeping through the thin material of her uniform finally triggers her feet in direction of the door, a few feet away from where he’s finishing his cigarette. Her fingers stay curled over the handle, contemplating the words and if they have any space in the situation, but before she can convince herself otherwise, she calls out to the chef. 

“I know it’s a shitty day to work ‘n all… but Merry Christmas… I guess.”

He nods again, brows raised and eyes wide seems to be the default expression on his face, then a ghost of something she can assume is a barely visible smile hides behind the dying tube. 

“Yeah… you too.” 

**********

“Have a good night guys, happy new year!” She recites with a wave to the departing guests, the phrase already lacking meaning after constant repetition.

New Year’s dinner rush is a blatant copy of the week before, with the exception of the nice vibes that many seem to carry, influenced by the faux restart. However, it does move painfully slow, between kind guests and uncomfortable offers from the Wall Street wannabe bros who couldn’t take a hint. Every advance had to be deflected with a kind smile and by the end of the night her cheeks had grown tired from all the tension they were forced to endure. Thankfully, there were only a few tables left and she could finally switch the uncomfortable heels for her sneakers, which facilitated finishing her last tasks in record time.

“Hey, Ross-” 

“Yeah” She turns to Meg- one of the waitresses and her friend- while shuffling through the menus, but stops as she sets a small plate with an even smaller dessert over the wooden desk. “What’s this?”

“From the kitchen…” She answers with a teasing tone and a smile that makes her roll her eyes.

“Take it back and tell Frank to fuck off- I’m not sucking his dick for an eclair-”

“It’s not from him, idiot! Chef Carmen sent it…” Meg whispers leaning in as if sharing some long kept secret. 

“What? Why?”

Meg shrugs and pulls a tiny spoon from one of the pockets on her apron. “Probably heard you bitchin’ about some guest again.” Then she scoops a piece of the dessert and pops it in her mouth, groaning in delight. “Say what you want about that man, but god is he good with his hands.”

“Dude that sounds so wrong.” Ross chuckles before taking a piece for herself and can’t help but agree with the delicious taste of the pastry. “We’re still on for drinks, right?”

“Can’t-” Meg mumbles between spoonfuls. “Mom’s making me meet them at grandma’s after this. She says this is probably her last new year so…”

“Shit- I don’t wanna go just with Frank.”

“Why don’t you ask your chef.” She suggests teasingly, before picking up the empty plate. “‘New year, new you’ ‘n all that. He already sent you food ‘n plus you’ve had the hots for him for a while now-”

“I do not!” She bickers a bit too defensively, rolling her eyes at the disbelief in Meg’s expression. “I’m nice to everyone, not just him.”

With a sarcastic ‘Sure, kid’ and an exaggerated nod, Meg turns on her shoes and heads deep into the emptying dining room.

By the time she’s finally done, it’s an hour to midnight and almost everyone has gone home except Frank, who sits wrapped up in his own coat and sharing a cigarette with another cook. Her steps lose power past the door and stop altogether once she notices the lonely man leaning on the wall a few feet in front of her.

“Hey, chef-” The girl calls towards him, his head immediately snapping up in her direction, unlit cig hanging loosely from his lips. “You got any plans?”

Ross doesn’t wait for an answer, steps moving closer towards him. There’s a thin nervous expression harboring his normally closed off features as his eyes dart around her face and the two men ahead of them, slowly putting the smoke back in the box.

“So?” She asks again. “You got anywhere to be?”

“Uh… no but-”

“Great, c’mon. Let's go grab some drinks.” She doesn’t wait for a response before linking her arm around his and walking closer to the waiting men.

She can see the tightness locked over Frank's jaw but tries her best to ignore it, pulling the chef in the opposite direction from where they’re standing. 

“Night boys.” She calls out before turning the corner and out of their view. 

Ross lets go of his arm once they’re a few blocks away, the warmth of her touch immediately escaping through the frigid wind. 

“Sorry ‘bout that… Frank’s just a little too much and I don’t wanna deal with that right now.” She says while growing the space between them. 

“Yeah-no I get it- he gets on my nerves sometimes… too.” 

They can hear the faint noise that the wind carries from a few blocks away, the celebrating multitude that has crowded Times Square in anticipation of the ball drop only growing thicker by the minute. 

“So, um, you really don’t have anywhere to be?” She asks, nervous fists inside her coat pockets. 

“Just home.” He shrugs. 

“Cool- so, what do you say to that drink?”

He shrugs again, not in an ‘I’m too cool to care’ way but more of an ‘I suck with words’ kind of way, that triggers a soft smile over her freezing features. 

“Thanks for the dessert… by the way.” She thanks with a slow step so he can catch up beside her once they’ve renewed their destination. 

“Oh-uh- yeah, sure.” He stammers, hands tightly in his pockets. “Anyone piss you off tonight?”

“Someone pisses me off every night-” She jokes, the lightheartedness growing with each step further away from work. “Curse of the trade, I guess.” She adds with a shrug.

They can hear the music emanating from the bar before even seeing it. The regular spot sits at the end of the curve, seemingly untouched by the masses, though the dusty windows show the movement of bodies inside. After maneuvering their way through the dispersed crowd, they’re still able to find an empty spot by the corner of the bar where it’s easier to reach the bartender. Every screen in their view covers the transmission of the infamous ball drop- as if the event wasn’t occurring a  few blocks away- but she figures it’s more comfortable seeing it from the inside of a heated bar than in the crushing crowd of bodies freezing outside.

It takes her five minutes to grab the barman’s attention and another two to get their drinks, but when he pats down his pants in search of his wallet, she’s already pocketing down the change the man’s given her.

“I asked you, remember?” She says to him while passing his drink, noticing a soft tint over his cheeks that hadn’t been there at their arrival and her brows raise slightly, before choosing to ignore it.

Ross can feel the man shuffling and clearing his throat beside her and the anxious actions pull a thin lipped smile over her face. He seems very different from the person she has observed behind the kitchen- a baby deer almost- careful not to trip over his own legs. It’s kind of endearing to her, how the confidence he carries in the confinements of a kitchen switches off the second he’s outside of one, replacing it with silence and the constant cracking of his knuckles that has her asking:

“You don’t go out much, do you?”

He exhales in the form of a small laugh, then takes a drink from his emptying mug. “That obvious?”

She nods and turns to him. “Well we’ve been here for almost twenty minutes and you’ve said three words… max.”

“Five now…” He jokes and a grin forms on her face at the dumb joke.

Ross turns to him, shifting her body in the stool to face him completely, bare knee brushing against his clothed one. “Tell me the thing you hate most about your job.”

He takes a few seconds to respond, gaze lost in the multitude as a terrible rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’ from the karaoke machine flows through the speakers. “I don’t- think I have one…”

“Nothing?” He shakes his head. “At all?” Another shake and a thin unnoticeable smile. “Chef Carmen-”

“-Carmy.” He corrects and the grin on her face grows a few inches wide.

“Okay Carmy, tell me you don’t hate people messing up your dishes or modifying your recipes?”

A grin slowly spreads across his static features as he looks down at his empty jug of beer and scratches over his brow out of habit. Then he nods in agreement. “I really fuckin’ hate that shit.”

“Right!?” Ross’ excitement pulls a snicker that has him agreeing to another drink, which he insists on paying for. “Like, I get it when it’s an allergy, right? You don’t wanna kill anyone. But Meg was telling me about some guy that wanted the ‘blanc’ but not the ‘beurre’ on his fish- and if 8th grade French doesn’t fail me- that literally translates to ‘white butter’!”

Carmy’s warm chuckle blends in nicely with the buzzing surroundings, causing a slight tint to graze her cheeks and hold a smile on the edge of her glass as she watches him.

“One of the waiters once asked me if I could just send ‘em a rack of ribs cause they didn’t like anything on the menu…”

“Jesus! As if you had a rack to spare behind that aged ham you got hanging in the walk-in…”

“You- you’ve been inside the walk-in?” He asks in surprise while she takes another sip off her second drink.

“That’s where I go to vent.” Ross shrugs with a soft grin. “Plus it’s soundproof so no one can hear me cry or lose my shit.”

He knew it wasn’t. He’s seen her barely hold her composure many times as she crosses down the hallway- hands tightly in fists- before hearing a muffled shriek from somewhere in the back; but he always assumed it came from the depot or the alley, never his walk-in. He wasn’t gonna tell her that, though.

Their drinks slowly drain while their attention falls heavy on the transmission from the TVs. With only ten minutes to spare, she can feel the growing excitement buzzing around the room as many inch closer to their loved ones, arms over shoulders and complicit kisses galore. For a second her eyes flicker over the rim of her glass towards Carmy’s profile, drinking in the strong shape of his nose and the many little scars she hadn’t noticed from a distance.

“I don't get it…” Ross says suddenly, turning back to him again. 

“Uh… context?”

“Right- sorry-” She clears her throat -as a way to order her ideas- and places the mug back on the bar, but doesn’t notice how her body leans in closer to him when she turns back around. “So, you’re like… the shit, right?” She starts, pulling a nervous chuckle from the man.

“Solid start.”

“Shut up-” She groans. “I mean it as in… anyone who knows anything about the culinary world knows who you are. These people, they pay big bucks for your food and they always leave boasting about how great it is-”

“No they don’t-” He tries to argue with a shake of his head.

“Yes they do!” She reassures, voice a little higher and eyes a little glossier. “They do. You have the skill- the reputation to open your own place, make it however you want it to be… why stay here?” 

There’s a look behind his eyes that makes her throat run dry, brows sunken over a concentrated gaze as he settles all his attention on her and everything seems to just vanish into white noise. It could be the confidence the alcohol carries that’s made her so vocal about her thoughts, but the rational part in her head warns that it’s not her place to comment on what she doesn’t know.

Ross shakes her head lightly and mumbles a soft ‘Sorry, nevermind it's stupid.’ before gulping her drink and redirecting her attention and posture back to the screens.

‘1 Minute to Midnight!’ flashes over every screen, bathing the room in an emerald green glow that bounces perfectly off her profile and catches Carmy’s attention. The playlist of 80s anthems and the growing excitement packed in the small room are loud enough to drown out the constant nagging voice in the back of his head. He sucks in a breath and moves impossibly slow in her direction.

“I’ve thought about it.” Carmy confesses loud enough so she can hear him over the chanting crowd.

Ten. She doesn’t expect him to be so close when she turns towards him. Specks of silver rim the outer edges of his eyes, wide enough that she can almost see her reflection staring back, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Nine. Betrayal in her body flicks her eyes down to his lips only for a brief moment and it has him questioning if he might have imagined it, before a teasing smile rounds at the edges of hers.

Eight. “Well when you decide to do it, call me if you ever need a bitchy hostess…” Ross whispers.

Seven. The air from his laugh blows softly over her cheeks, growing hot with the small distance. With a quickened pulse, she tries to settle her gaze on any other part of his face.

Six. ‘Just look at his eyes- shit no, not the eyes!’ ‘The mouth? No, that's even worse!’ ‘Jesus, you’ve kissed people before, why are you so fucking nervous?!’

Five. The turmoil in her head doesn’t bleed through to her calm expression, keeping a gentle smile that has Carmen letting out his own.

“Okay… ” 

Four. The bundle of words hangs from his lips, swinging in her direction and hooking around her neck to pull her closer.

Three. There’s a prevalent pulsing rippling from her chest that drowns out any other sound around her, as if a fish bowl had fallen over the two, blocking out any exterior sound.

Two. “D’you mind if I kiss you?” She asks, gently.

One. The TV behind him explodes in multicolored lights as the ball finally drops. Fireworks reflect back to him from the shimmer of her eyes and all he can do is swallow hard, nod and let her gravity pull him forward.

A soft “Happy New Year, Carmy” brushes over his lower lip.

Then the last thing he remembers is the sweet taste of coconut gloss followed by the smooth movements of velvet lips above his bumbling ones.

**********

Part II

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat, @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 and that’s it lmao

[jeysbvck]

wip wednesday!

thank u @sznofthesticks for the tag🥰

inspired by tis the damn season by taylor swift - jey uso x reader

********

It was a cold, January morning, snow falling outside, frost gathering on the window, but you were warm and cosy, wrapped up in Jeys huge arms. You had woken a while ago and couldn't bring yourself to leave the bed, not when you had very limited time with Jey.

This happened every time you came into town. You'd crash in your childhood bedroom at your parents house, then bump into Jey in the not so small town, and end up spending the weekend curled up in bed with him, making up for lost time. You thought about him all the time, especially when you were back home. You didn't mean to, you'd start to think about the what ifs and the road not taken, which then led you to him. You'd wonder about him, what he was doing, how different everything would be if you hadn't left. Would it be better than your life now? Would you feel this same ache? The one you'd felt since you left him all those years ago?

Jey, still in a state of slumber, stretched his arm out, releasing you from the warm, safe place in his arms, and leaving a chill behind, a foreshadowing of what was envitably to come. You turned from the beautiful snowy view outside the window to the beautiful view in the bed next to you. Even after all these years, the sight of him still left you almost breathless — and as you did every time you and Jey spent these weekends together, you took the opportunity to mentally record every little detail of his face to take back with you.

After a few minutes of silently taking in his beauty, Jey groaned and opened one of his eyes. “Morning, babe.” He mumbled, smiling sleepily. “You're watching me sleep again. I forgot you were a creep.” He teased, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled and hummed in response, softly tracing your fingertips through his hair, across his cheek and beard. You had been surprised by the little grey hairs in his beard, but you honestly couldn't get enough of them. He kissed your hand, before he turned onto his back and your head found its usual place on his chest.

“So, how long do we have?” He asked, tracing patterns into your back with his finger.

You sighed. “Can't we just stay in our bubble for a little longer before we do this?”

“Ay, you know I'd stay here forever. It's you who-” He stopped himself before he finished the sentence, but you lifted your head and stared at him. You knew what he was going to say; it was the same every damn time.

no pressure tags; @afterdarkprincess @maplefire18 @imabillyami @crxssjae @harmshake 💙

[accio-victuuri]

CPN : random thoughts 🍬🍭

dumping some minor cpns that has popped up here and there for convenience. as usual, i need one space to ramble.

I also want to take this opportunity to applaud yibo-official for releasing that 1 hour + bts footage. They just went f*ck it and didn’t bother splicing it, they went ahead and dropped it on us out of nowhere. maybe one day they can post an hour long yibo vlog or photo set of yibo selfies. you know. just a suggestion. lol. The last post they made seemed like the final HB related content to share but apparently not. I am so thankful! This is best 3/14 gift!!!! I guess this is also a treat for “yibo movie fans” all over the world who continue to show their support for the overseas screenings.

1. Back in January, YBO posted for HB reaching 300 million in the box office and emphasis on the 3 ( zhan ). People have noticed that this scene looks like it was shot 10/5/2021 — ZZ’s birthday. What a coincidence that they chose this photo to be assigned to the number 3.

2. The way they dropped this big BTS content is reminding us of how the CQL 160 minutes bts was shared before. Is this them taking a page out of that? If there is something turtles are good at, it’s going through hours and hours of BTS footage! This is nothing to us!!! 😂😂😂😂

3. Also this was edited heavily, i can only imagine how many hours of footage they have. The selection of clips and what they can show. The music and it’s arrangement. going back to XZS being quiet — it’s a cpn that the two teams probably worked on this because the project is too big to accomplish by one group only. or maybe it needs a sign-off from the creative director xiao zhan. lol.

The important part of YBO’s post tho is their caption. Especially the part which said : Everything about Mr. Ye is dedicated to all fans of @UNIQ-王一博

I don’t know how many times I have said that Yibo is really making the necessary steps to make himself more mainstream. by that i mean, shedding the title of traffic star. the label itself isn’t all that bad tbh. lots of artists would kill to have the same traffic he does so they can have more endorsements and better scripts their way. however, i observed that he is transitioning to being an actor who hopefully will be loved by a lot of people and not just his core fans. The same goes for XZ, tho he is having a harder time staying away from being a traffic star and his own rice circle. I am in no way discrediting 🍤 or 🏍️, I just mean that the end game for the boys is to be a national celebrity. This transition leaves a lot of responsibility to existing fans like us, to be more welcoming to the new ones. This is why I get so mad when fans pay more attention to drama and fan wars cause it turns off potential supporters. It’s a huge red flag seeing a toxic fan group. I really hope one day, things do settle down and fans learn to be more chill.

4. Another ZSWW cute rumor posted said that WYB will still fuss when he sees old BTS videos of XZ scolding him. So XZ’s advice is to not scold the one you like even if you are jealous — who knows, you might end up together. This is too funny cause we know how fierce ZZ was with WYB, sometimes it’s already scary and you can tell the times he was jealous. 😂😂😂

5. Lastly, Weibo night posted some drama CPs and put it as a 9 grid photo. The pairings are not the most interesting part tho, it’s the top comments. 🤡

>> THIS IS THE LINK TO THE POST IF YOU WANNA JOIN IN. Like the top comments so they stay there, do not comment or reply. <<

On a regular day I would totally say that this is so unnecessary cause we have to respect the drama CPs on that post. Also BJYX is not really a “drama cp”, it’s WANGXIAN and if you believe in SZD there is really no reason to try and compete with commercial CPs. Plus it might indirectly harm the boys too. But i’m feeling petty today so i’m cackling. That’s all. You ask us about a CP? Okay, how about we clown you? I have no love for Sina Weibo and WB night at all so i don’t feel sorry for them or anything. We are just telling the truth, the pairing of XZ & WYB is truly superior. You ask, we answered. What I said about being careful is still true but sometimes you just don’t give a f*ck. It is what it is. 🤡🤡🤡

-END.

[growwithmeastrology]

Monday, January 22nd, 2024 Sun in Aquarius ♒️💨 Moon in Gemini ♊️💨 and Cancer ♋️🌊

The Moon is still in Gemini for most of the day. I hope the ideas are flowing and the thoughts are positive. The communication lines are still open.

While she’s in Gemini, she will have an argument or is in a square with Neptune in Pisces. This energy brings in the fog and can make us feel a little out of sorts. It’s not a vibe you can’t embrace though. This is short lived and a good time to just chill, listen to some music or pamper yourself.

The Moon in Gemini will also oppose Venus in Sagittarius so keep the communication soft in the topics of love, money and pleasure. This is a short transit as well but it is in the middle of the day. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all and definitely don’t make any big money decisions with this one.

The Moon then enters its home sign of Cancer where the vibe shifts from chatty Cathy to nurturing Mommy. We tend to focus more on the people we love and our home life. It’s a time where we end up in our feels about things a little more than usual. The Neptune square will still be present so nurturing or pampering yourself is the best use of this energy.

You know when you’ve been doing a lot or talking a lot and you finally sit down, throw your arms on the arm chair and let out a big sigh? That’s kinda the feel for today. The tone or vibration of that sigh will depend on you. Have a beautiful Monday!

If you enjoy my daily forecasts please like, comment, share and consider a gratitude tip in support. 🅿️ PayPal, Venmo or CashApp - @NaliniFlor

Learn more about your personal energies and how the daily forecast affects you! Comment below⬇️ or DM me for a consultation.

[millylotus]

Rasberries & Lemon Delights

Country Boy!Danny x Emo Punk!Duke

Danny[18] goes to live with Aunt Alicia on the family farm for a gap year, which just so happens to be in Smallville. He’s been there since January. A town in the middle of nowhere with at least a nice small population of people, it's not a big jump from small town Amity Park.

Duke[18] doesn’t usually visit the Kents but he had nothing better to do and Damian[16] wanted to go see Jon[15] for the summer, so roadtrip it was. Besides, Duke didn’t have much else to do and Martha & Jonathan had invited him to stay as well. It’ll be fun to just get away from the constant buzz of Gotham.

The Palad Family Farm has a rasberry orchard [it should be spelled this way or like raz(s)berry, not fucking RASPberry I had to fucking look this up, it’s only ever been spelled rasberry in my head, english can go suck my dick [sorry bout that anyways]] with a couple chikens and cow and a produce garden. it’s off to the side compared to the others in Smallville, separated by a line of trees that you might be able to call a forest. Their closest neighbors are the Kents, and that’s through the trees.

For this AU i changed the boys’ appearance a little bit

Duke is less emo-punk and more punk-emo when it comes to his aesthetic

Danny’s bigger in the muscle aspect kinda like a toned down version of Jack

About a week into their stay Danny comes over to the Kent’s to bring over some rasberries as a gift.

The kids just so happen to be hanging out outside when he walks up.

Duke sat lounging on a chair he’d dragged out to the front lawn, reading his book which sat heavy between his cross legs.

Damian and Jon were further into the brush chatting and messing around.

The only thing really odd were the sunglasses the brothers wore, heavily shaded and thick, with the bright Kansas sun and being from one of the gloomiest cities of the world it was practically a necessity.

Jon paused as he spoke and looked down the road, both brothers turned their heads in interest.

A couple meters down the road a young man Duke’s age was walking their way, a straw garden hat on his head, holding a crate in his arms.

The kryptonian smiled and stood up waving at the approaching stranger, “Hey Danny!” he shouted in greeting.

The stranger whose name was evidently named Danny walked up the driveway to the Kent house.

“Hey Jon! Who are your friends?” He said with a smile.

“Damian and Duke, family friends. They’re visiting for the summer.” Jon said happily as he pointed at each sibling.

Damian stood up and walked over to Jon’s side “Nice to meet you” . His voice was as flat as it always was with strangers.

Duke nodded at Danny, “Sup.”

Danny nodded back with a smile, before turning back to Jon, “Me and Aunt Alicia harvested some rasberries yesterday, we got a lot and where wondering if y’all wanted some.”

Jon’s face lit up like a star, “Fuck yeah! Ma’s gonna love ‘em! Come on!”

Jon took Damian’s hand and pulled him back to the house, Damian and Danny following. Duke sighed and decided to go as well, closing his book he stood up and caught up with them. He ended up walking side by side with Danny.

Danny looks down to the shorter boy walking by his side. Duke is gorgeous in an ethereal way, brown eyes almost glowing under his sunnies, winged with perfect black eyeliner. His face was stoic in the same way Damian’s was, little to no emotion shown. It didn’t take away from his serene and chill vibes though.

Duke glances up at Danny, and the taller boy quickly looks away to the Kent house, face flushed.

He almost missed the playful smirk that spread on Duke’s face.

Ma thanks Danny for the raspberry and ropes him into chatting for a bit with the boys adding little commentary and things

Duke’s trying to not be obvious about staring at Danny’s muscles

Dami & Jon notice of course

Jon and Dami glanced at each other as Duke tried to grab their attention, desperately trying to make them stop whatever they were scheming.

“Hey Danny?” Jon says

Danny looks towards the teen, “Yeah?”

“Damian and Duke kinda just got to Smallville and they haven’t even gone all that deep into the fields, – Jon leans in a bit with a wide smile – We could go out tomorrow and us country kids could show them around?”

“I wouldn’t mind that, how ‘bout ‘round after 10?” Danny afford with a smile.

Danny shows them around the area near his family’s farm

Damian and Jon end up scurrying off to let Danny & Duke be alone, of course they’re watching from the sidelines

Duke pretends to be externally calm but is kinda freaking out on the inside his internal monologue is “Hot Boy Hot Boy That was so fucking weird don’t say that again God he’s so fucking funny I kinda wanna kiss him”

Danny is much the same, but he’s not very good at hiding how flustered he is, he’s smiling like a goof and his face is all flushed “Pretty Boy Cute Boy Pretty Goth Boy I have a type Ancients I wanna kiss him”

Duke is not so subtly flirting with Danny, complementing his muscle, being actively interested when Danny talks about the farm and his friends back home

Danny’s also flirting back of course, drifting closer to Duke, asking him about Gotham and his friend, the book he was reading yesterday

When they get to the Palad family farm, Jon and Dami had already gotten there and where drinking some sweet tea with Alicia

Alicia is of course entertained with Danny’s crush, and watches as he and Duke walk around the rasberry orchard

When Jon and the brothers have to go back Duke and Danny trade numbers, even though they’ll probably talk again tomorrow and basically the rest of the summer

They’re both smitten with each other

Duke and Damian are in the attic of the Kent farmhouse, each on their own twin bed on either side of the room

Duke: *yearning sigh*

Dami *teasing*: You like the Palad boy don’t you?

Duke *suspicious*: No ... Whatcha gonna do about it?

Dami: Oh nothing it’s just funny, you always said you wouldn’t fall for someone on the family type list

Duke: What are you- *realization* oh OH! Screw you, you can’t say shit Dames! *chucks pillow at Dami who’s laughing* I see how you look at Jon *teasing*

Dami: Shush! Don’t say that he could hear you!

Duke *smirking* : Or what? not my country boy to worry about

Dami groans and flops into pillow tossing back Duke’s pillow & flipping him off

Duke laughs and lays onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a smile, before closing his eyes and going to sleep

Danny and Alicia are eating dinner

Alicia: So the Wayne boys, I only really got to talk to Damian, what’s Duke like?

Danny *excited*: Oh he’s so cool! He’s reading this romance novel right now. Sounds really cool, so I might drop by the library to check if they have it!

As Danny talks about Duke, Alicia watches him with a smile

Alicia: When are you gonna go out and see him again?

Danny: Not sure, but I hope sooner or later

Alicia: mmm, If you like so much you better ask him out soon

Danny *high pitched*: What!

Alicia *laughing*: Duke’s the new mysterious pretty boy in town. The other kids your age will be falling over themselves to get to know him

Danny tries not to let himself look stressed, Alicia shakes her head fondly

Alicia: Don’t worry to much kid, Duke already seems to like you, you’ve got a good chance of winning his heart

Danny sighs at his food

Danny: I hope so

I don’t know where I wanna put this but like Alicia has a weird reputation in Smallville

She doesn’t leave her farm very often, only for big events like the Farmers market

And she has most of everything she needs for food at her farm

If she does need to buy something she’ll pop into town at the weirdest of times and leave quickly

When Danny comes around this doesn’t really change, he goes out into town more than her

There were a couple rumors about Ms.Alicia’s nephew staying for awhile

Danny’s been basically the line connecting Alicia and the rest of town

Anyway back to the main plot!

What Alicia said is true, the few other college kids visiting their family in Smallville do want to get closer to Duke

Duke doesn’t really mind, since he’s always kinda been popular, but he insists on staying with Danny at all times

Danny sometimes feels jealous so he often does things to catch Duke’s attention, even though he knows he doesn’t have to do much

When Summer Farmer’s Market time rolls around a bunch of farmers in Smallville drive to the bigger town nearby Dolmeny Town

Alicia & Danny have their own stand selling more rasberry desserts & treats, along with some little carved statues that Danny makes

The Kents also have a stand, selling breads, a few milk products, and flowers pressed and or fresh from Ma’s garden

The stands are like right across from each other as well, both in the food section

Danny & Duke  staring at each other from across the street, going over to each other’s stands to buy a few things

Duke complementing the rasberry pastries, and Danny promises to save some for him later

It ends up becoming a a date, they meet up near the end of the day, Duke brings a bouquet he made and Danny brings some rasberry scones

They sit at a bench and just start talking about themselves learning more about each other

Cute stuff like that, by the end of it they’re holding hands when Danny walks Duke back to the Kent’s at the end of the day

I have other date ideas, as well. Maybe there’s a party or concert going on in Dolmeny that Danny found out about and they go there. I think they’d have similar music tastes

Going to a cafe, and talking about their favorite foods

The library, where Duke gets Danny to read some of the romance novels he loves

Duke buying some gotham brand lemon candy for Danny, like the really sour stuff cause Danny mentioned he liked sour stuff

Going to the lake for a beach day with the others

Just hanging out together

Danny fixing Duke’s makeup cause he’s done it for Sam before

Of course I want a scene or part where the rest of the Superfam and Batfam, and the Fentons plus Sam & Tucker of course

Come over to visit their family in Smallville for the summer, like a week or even just a day or two

Jazz, Tuck & Sam meeting Duke for the first time and him & Sam immediately getting along

Conner dragging the kids to a bigger concert than they’ve ever been to before

Batfam mildly hazing Danny because they can

The Fentons being able to play wrestle with the Supers with no real problem cause of liminal bullshit

The three families having a big dinner on the last day with barbecue and such, it’s basically a feast with how many people and food is there

Danny & Duke walk away near the end and go for a walk together

The sun’s set and the sky is filled with stars, as Danny talks on about the constellations and planets the two sit together

Eventually they get to talking about what will happen when the summer's over, Danny’s going to either Caltech or Princeton and Duke will be going back to Gotham U for his second year

Princeton’s in Gotham, so it would keep them closer, but Caltech has the first best Space Science program in the country

Duke doesn’t want to affect such a big decision in Danny’s life, and Danny really wants to go to Caltech

Danny chooses Caltech [Cause he deserves it gosh darnit! and if their relationship doesn’t pan out at least they have a whole country between them]

They end the night with a kiss!

THE END

I think this the first one with a proper ending! :D

DEADLIGHTS MASTERPOST, GENERAL NOTES, MEMES, AO3

[allmyocsarebritish]

Kiss, Maime, Kill: Chapter 5 - Regret?

Pairing: Alastor X killer! F Reader

Warnings!!!: Graphic description of grief and death, ANGST, sorry not sorry, will make up for it eventually, drug metaphor? Basically just the other chapters warnings on steroids

Wordcount: 0.85k

Why was this so fun to write? Should I be concerned? Maybe- Anyway, finally got to use the art I made in March that inspired this, and it's the last human Al of this story :(((

1933

Louisiana, New Orleans

Something was off. You knew it from the start. But, alas, you played it off, assuming the uneasy feeling had risen from the bitter January chill casting shivers down your spine. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that you and Alastor weren't the only ones hiding in the woods that night.

Firmly gripping the butcher's knife in your hand, you followed Alastor further into the marshland. People were scared of you. Not the other way around. You were the killer, the one to be feared, the monster lurking in the woods at night. You repeated this to yourself, wondering what the fuck came over you as you flinched at a wind - tousled hedge.

"Are you alright, Cher?" Alastor asked, drawing closer to you. He caressed your cheek with his free hand as you stared into the trees like a deer in the headlights. "My, my, you're shaking, poor dear! Whatever has gotten into you?"

"I- I don't know, Al. Cold weather I suppose."

His gaze trailed over you for a while longer than necessary, eyes narrowing in concern. "Alright, well then, let's not waste another moment."

A rather uncomfortable silence returned as you continued to trek through the forest, which unsettled you further. "Alastor?" You asked, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Did you ever think life would turn out like this?"

Alastor quirked an eyebrow. How reminiscent this was of your confession. Did you need affirmation of his affection? Was that what was wrong?

"I found you without looking, and I love you without trying." He told you simply and with a soft smile, turning to continue onwards.

"I love you too, but that isn't what I meant. I meant do you ever.. regret.. what we do?"

He stopped walking and turned to face you once more.

"Regrets won't change anything, you need to find your peace in the present, no matter how imperfect it may be or how much you wish you could change."

"If you're so sure."

~

Lighting a cigarette, you reclined against a tree as Alastor wiped the blood off his face with his palm. The slightly insane look in his usually void eyes scared and enticed you all at once. He was invigorating, truly, better than any drug trip. He dropped the knife at the side of this victim, sending a clatter echoing through the forest. Alerting everything of your presence.

"Do you feel better now, Cher?" He asked you, swiping the splatters off your own face with his thumb.

"Only because you're here." You responded, smiling and drawing him in for a kiss.

"Of course." His lips met yours, a slightly metallic taste hinting at the blood spilt in the thicket of trees, before he pulled back and leant against the tree beside yourself. A long drawn out sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes in contentment. You passed him the cigarette, from which he took a long drag before snubbing it out against the rough bark and dropping it to the grass underfoot.

Then, within a split second, your entire universe crashed and burned.

The ringing of the gunshot was deafening, making you wince as the ear splitting squeal ripped through air beside you. Alastor jolted backwards with the aggressive impact, slumping against the tree. His eyes were wide and horrified, glasses cracked and broken on the forest floor.

Red. Blood. Pain. Anguish. This was how they had felt. This was their last moments. This was what you did to their families.

"ALASTOR!" Your bloodcurdling scream resembled that of your victims in their last moments as you dropped to your knees at your husband's side. The tears were hot and stinging. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to be the ones to feel the blinding agony of loss. But you were, and nothing would change that.

"Alastor, Al, please. Please, Allie." You were begging. Begging for what? You didn't know, and it didn't matter because no amount of reduced screaming on your knees would change this. "Please."

"I hope my absence can give you peace and stability in a way you never could experience with me around, Cher" his voice was hoarse and quiet, clearly straining to speak with the sheer pain he was in. "For all the sins I committed in life, loving you was the sweetest one."

"Fuck, Al, please, no, no," What were you saying? You didn't know. Words were tumbling out with no meaning because all you could focus on was the raw grief coursing through your veins and wracking your body with grief.

"I love you, y/n. If only I could absorb your pain and return it as love."

"I love you, Alastor. I always will. Don't go. Don't leave me Alastor. Please Al. Please" the life faded from his eyes as your shrill voice became hoarser. If you could have cradled him there forever you would have, but you couldn't. Acceptance wasn't fathomable, and maybe it was just your grief speaking, but there was something you knew for sure:

You'd meet again.

One day.

You'd meet again.