#yeah 30 is not old … but you get my drift

[dedlit]

Part 1

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | three

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, men vs boys, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, SMUT, fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it before you tap it, folks], praise kink, slow love, aftercare, vasectomy mention, terms of endearment [sweetheart], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k joel miller masterlist | part two a/n: i hope y’all are liking this :) next part may not be out for awhile. gonna figure out what the heck i’m doing with this. tagging @hausofobsession, cuz luv.

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“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I’d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

Like a spurred horse, he got to it. Scooped you up and held you against him with both arms hooked beneath your thighs. He let out a labored breath when he lifted you up and stood from the couch, as if he wasn’t sure he’d make it fully upright. The noise emitted from him made you doubt that as well.

“Heavy?” You asked, burying your own lips to his neck, this time to avoid his answer. There was a delay in his response, which you only noted because when he spoke again, he’d managed to rise completely.

“No, sweetheart, it’s not you. I got a fucked up back,”

You pulled back and looked at him with a smirk as he began to walk, “old man.”

He managed to side step his t-shirt so as to not trip over it, and started down the hallway. “Yeah. But I don’t think you’re gonna be disappointed,”

Your cheeks got hot, partially by his words and partially by his display of strength. You’d never felt more secure being in a man’s hands. That he had you. Steady. Safe. “I need to get you that horn to toot,”

Joel only smiled, adjusting his hold on you to keep you upright with his forearm as his other hand moved to turn the doorknob and give you both access to his bedroom. The silence gave way to more kissing. He cupped his hand around your jaw and kept you at an angle that accommodated his tongue pressing its way back into your mouth. Slowly, you were being lowered and your backside hit the mattress which prompted you to open your eyes. But that did you in and sent a white hot flash between your legs. Joel stood over you, chest rising and falling gently as he became laser-focused. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and suppressed a smile when it made you part them. But instead of lingering there, he moved his hand to the back of your head and gently took a handful of your hair, close to the scalp, and eased your head back as far as it would go. You whimpered and pressed your thighs together to try and stave off the arousal you knew was pooling in your panties.

“Y’wanna get naked for me?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

That also didn’t help the situation between your legs. You nodded, but then remembered he preferred to hear it, “yeah.”

His eyes drifted to your lips quickly and then shot back up to yours. With a quick peck, “go on, then.”

He took a step back and dropped a hand back down to the front of his jeans, palming himself. With the hesitation on your end, he clicked his tongue against his teeth to get your attention again. Your eyes focused on him, then started the plight of removing your clothes from yourself while trying not to get too far in your head about it while he just stared – ogled – at you. Your shirt was the easiest hurdle to get over so you pulled it over your head and set it beside you on the bed. Joel’s eyes seemed to light up at your now exposed chest. The bra was nothing special, and upon realizing that, a new spark of embarrassment ignited in you. Not having planned this, the bra was less than “sexy” and you knew your underwear was even less so. And they didn’t match. Not nearly. That was the reason you rid yourself of your bra so quickly. Maybe he’d forget what it looked like by the time you were down to your underwear.

Joel groaned once your chest was completely free from its constraints. His shoulders seemed to hunch forward and his hand pressed harder against his crotch. Even as your fingers went to your pants to nimbly undo the button and zipper, he closed the gap between you and wrapped one large hand around the front of your neck. Again, he used no pressure to it, more of just an anchor so he could kiss you and nibble on your lip.

You reached down, trying to remain in place to allow his kisses to continue, while also trying to rid yourself of your pants. He caught on to the jerkiness of your actions, and helped you out of your tight jeans until he managed to get them past your feet and completely off. Now as he stood in front of you, your hands went for his belt, shakily undoing the buckle until you could finally yank it out of the loops.

He watched your progress as you went for the button, “don’t have a condom, but I could just go dow–”

“I’m on birth control,” you said off-hand, not even bothering to look up at him. Button undone and making short work of the zipper, you nudged his jeans down past his hips and the curve of his ass.

Joel grabbed your wrist when you reached back to rub the outline of his member in his boxer briefs. “Not for that. I’m snipped,”

Your eyes shot up to him.

He pressed a grin, “only way you’re getting a baby from me is if you’re the virgin Mary. I don’t have anything, but…”

“Me either, let’s get to it.” You scooted further back on to the bed, laying against the pillows. But he didn’t follow you right away and seeing his questioning look, you jumped the gun. “Unless you’re lying and I actually need to get you a full STD panel,”

That seemed to rile him enough to crawl on the bed to you. “I’m not lyin’ to you,” he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. Instead of keeping his gaze on you, he glanced down at his progress and the damp spot on the cotton fabric that sold you out. He smiled up at you, obviously proud of himself.

The urge to smack that smile off his face was strong. You thought about doing it, and like he could read your mind, he rested his weight on top of you, hips and legs spreading you apart, and grabbed hold of your wrists, tugging them up above your head. He gave you a look, and convinced you’d leave your hands where they were, he loosened his grip and began kissing down your body. First your lips, paying them the sort of attention that made you think he wouldn’t get to any other part. Then his tongue trailed down to your neck, and he sucked on your soft skin there, seemingly dissatisfied until he felt he’d done enough to leave a bruise. A mark that when you’d look in the mirror later, would remind you of what was to come. To remember the way his lips migrated further, to your chest, kissing and circling his tongue around your nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. Only to switch and do the same to the other. You moaned and rut your hips up into him, vying for any friction or anything that would spur him into hurrying. But he was slow with his movements. Each one calculated and deliberate. So that by the time you even realized he was kissing your lower stomach and hip bone, your body tensed up and you lowered one hand, curling gentle fingers around his ear.

“Joel,” you hummed, though his ministrations didn’t stop, and you couldn’t help but understand that your utterance of his name did sound eerily similar to a moan to continue. He kissed just a touch lower and dragged his tongue over the skin where the elastic of your panties had left a mark. “Joel, you don’t have to,”

He let your words sink in for just a second before he kissed your hip once more and lifted his head, “I want to…” he glanced down at your legs as you shifted beneath him, trying to close them. Grasping your hesitancy – or discomfort – with that, he relented and looked back up at you, “maybe next time.”

You nodded and silently thanked the heavens above that he let it go at that and made a quick line of kisses back up your stomach, past the center of your chest and then back to your lips. “Fingers?” He whispered into your neck, resting on his side next to you. His hands continued their dance over your skin.

“Just fuck me,” you pleaded and turned your body into him, slinging a leg over his hip to give him access again.

He smiled and leaned up on his forearm, looking down over you, making you feel smaller than you already were compared to him. “This is not me tooting my own horn, but I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Joel,” you whined and rubbed yourself along the outline of his shaft, knowing he’d feel the wetness through his underwear that you’d left behind.

He pouted at you as if jokingly agreeing with your heady whine. “Thing is sweetheart,” he said and kept his gaze on your face even as his fingers drifted lower. He could tell you were hyper-aware of it though you also kept your focus on his eyes. “Two and a half years is a good bit of time,” he ran his middle finger through your slit, biting back a moan of his own, as a silent one seemed to leave your slackened mouth. After circling your entrance but putting no pressure on it, he brought his finger back up to your clit and suppressed another grin when your legs flinched, “and I don’t think the boys you’ve been with ever did a good job.” He kissed you gently and circled his fingers over your bundle of nerves. This time that earned him a new response in the form of your entire body shuddering. Catching your reaction, he lowered his forehead against yours, “your pleasure’s my only priority right now, so we’re gonna make it good.” Joel lifted his head and looked down at his hand and the way your hips lifted to meet it. “Look at you all wet for me. Barely had to do anything and I’ve got you drippin’.”

You rolled forward and buried your face in his chest, sparing yourself from the eye contact he searched for. A laugh rumbled through his chest, and all you could do to keep from falling apart was roll your hips into his hand harder. 

“How about one?” he looked at you despite only being able to see the side of your head, and notched his finger at your entrance. He felt you nod against his chest, but that reaction had him moving his finger away and opting to cup your sex. “Can I see your eyes,”

You turned your head and looked up at him, “you’re killing me.”

“Well, if ya’ listened to me like a good girl, we’d be on our way. But you’re bein’ stubborn, and I’m not out to hurt you,” he made sure you read him loud and clear. “Now can I put my fingers in you or not,”

But this was what you expected from guys. To gear up for a fight. So your body kicked it into overdrive and you pushed on his chest. “If you listened we’d be on our way because I’ve already said yes three–”

In one fell swoop, he took his place back on top of you and slung one of your legs over his forearm as it rested on the bed by your hip. The move kept you open for him, and left you speechless. If you hadn’t been turned on before, that had surely done it.

“We were having such a good time, and now you’re being a brat,” he smirked knowing he had the upper hand, and laid his fingers back at your entrance. “Can I put my fingers inside you or not,”

“Yes!”

This time there was no delay between your answer and the feeling of him sliding his middle finger into you, going relentlessly until he’d gotten it all the way down to the last knuckle. Your jaw fell slack again and your eyebrows furrowed together, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Like that?” He asked when he curled his finger inside you, against your front wall.

“Yes,” you cried out, elongating the end of the word and writhing beneath him. Only a few quick thrusts of that finger alone before he pulled it out and set forth with his ring finger included. Your eyes were locked on to his, though his gaze alternated between your face and your core. 

Fingers hard at work, when he looked back into your eyes, he saw them glazing over. Your mouth was open, letting out silent moans, and from that he realized the steady rise and fall of your chest had paused. He smiled to himself and lowered his head, planting a wet kiss to your sternum. “Breathe, sweetheart,”

You gulped in a breath of air, hearing an animalistic growl come from Joel’s throat when your inhale resulted in your anatomy squeezing around his fingers which had yet to cease their constant thrusts in and out of you. “Please, Joel, I can’t…” your breath caught in your throat when he curled both of his fingers inside you. “I need you,” your claws came toward his chest and scratched down his skin, trying to get him as physically on you as possible. 

His fingers slowed, “you’ll tell me to stop if it hurts?”

In chasing a high, with blurred vision and your pulse pounding in your ears, and brain fog that overwhelmed you, you shook your head no.

Joel laughed softly and slowly eased his fingers out of you, shushing you when you whined. “That wasn’t the right answer,”

“Please, please. You’re killing me,” you repeated.

“You’ll stop me if it’s not good,” he reiterated.

“You’ll be the among the first to know,”

He kissed you once. Twice. And on the third, sat back on his knees just to lower and pull off his underwear. With it also discarded off the side of the bed, he slotted himself back between your spread legs. You only had a moment to catch a glance of his member, and it instantly set in a whole new batch of nerves. He’d be the biggest you’d ever taken, perhaps exceeding in length and girth than any other boy in your repertoire. And the thought of what that would do to your body was equally anxiety-inducing and thrilling. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you noticed him evaluating your expression, but not catching your direct eye contact, he reached between your bodies and lined himself up with you. Notched his head against your entrance, “good?”

“Yeah,” you murmured and immediately took your lower lip between your teeth, bearing down for what was to come. Joel couldn’t help but think that was you preparing for an unpleasant, and perhaps, downright painful experience. He took a beat to steady himself before he slowly pressed forward, urging himself in.

He felt the first hint of resistance at the same moment your mouth twisted into a wince. Joel pulled his hand out from between you and set it at your hip for leverage while the other went to your neck. His fingertips pressed to the back of it and lifted your head just enough for him to kiss your lips with urgency. Hips dipping into you a little more until about half his length was sheathed inside you, he pulled back to look down when your jaw dropped open and out came the squeakiest of whimpers.

“Y’alright?” Joel stilled his hips, waiting for the go-ahead.

You squinted your eyes shut, feeling them burn with tears. “Yeah,” you gasped out, “you’re big,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he lowered his head and licked at your neck. “You’re so tight,” he pulled his hips back before slowly thrusting back into you, still only getting halfway of his length in. “But you feel so good,”

“More. Deeper,”

Joel studied your face as he obeyed your command, pushing further until he’d sunk all the way into you, bottoming out. And the way your muscles spasmed around him almost ended him. He bowed his head forward against your shoulder and took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Joel, move,” you pleaded, still pulsing around his length.

He nodded, not lifting his forehead off your shoulder, “I will, just give me a second.”

You reached around his torso and dragged your hands down his back to his ass, “something wrong?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna come,” he admitted, sucking in another deep breath. “Don’t even start. Just… say something about football,”

“I don’t know anything about football,”

That got him to lift his head. And suppressed whatever urge was rising in him enough so that he could pull his hips back and snap them into you again. His speed picked up, sending you upward on the bed. You both pressed a hand to the headboard in the effort of keeping you from hitting it, but even with the abundance of caution, his thrusts got more forceful. It felt like he was splitting you in two, swearing you felt him up in your stomach. And with each particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix. 

It had you moaning and whimpering in an endless stream, and just when you didn’t think you could take more of it, he lowered his mouth to your ear and started whispering to you. “Takin’ me so well. ‘Atta girl. Wrap your legs around me,” he waited until you did so. Ankles hooked together behind him and you let out a deep, guttural moan. “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you?”

You nodded breathlessly, very quickly losing control of your senses and body. 

You fluttered around him and he growled. “This pussy’s so good,” that earned him another round of clenching from your needy center. “I feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” he emphasized that with another hard thrust. “I’m gonna make you come, but I need you to do me a favor,” his kissed just below your ear.

“Anything,” you moaned. “Anything you want,”

Well if that wasn’t just music to his ears. He moved one hand beneath your hips and lifted them just slightly off the bed to enter into you at a different angle, and placed his other at the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair. “Touch yourself for me,”

Eyes blinking open while you simultaneously nodded, you thought you’d just come undone then and there. The way Joel was looking at you became even more overwhelming when you lifted your hand to your mouth and licked your fingers, before lowering them to your waist. Joel moaned and for the first time his hips faltered. You knew he was as close as you were. With the first touch of your fingers on your clit, your legs squeezed around his hips tighter and refused to let him go. Why no boy before had enlisted you to help along with your pleasure, you didn’t know. If anything, they had been offended you needed to. But not Joel. Not this man.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, staring right at you. It gave you nowhere else to look but back into his eyes. “Good girl,” he hummed, both very aware of the way you throbbed around his shaft with the praise. “You wanna come for me?”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat pooling between your legs and in your stomach.

“Want you to soak me,” he bit your jaw softly, “come all over my cock.”

“Joel,” you whimpered. The muscles in your legs and stomach flexed and released in steady procession. You could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. It was also nearly impossible to focus on anything other than the weight of him on you and in you that accentuated the building pressure inside you. “Joel, please,” you managed to choke out.

His hold on the back of your head grew gentler and he lifted your head toward him. “You can let go, I got you,”

“Joel,” you cried out again.

“I promise. I got you. C’mon, come for me,”

His thrust paired with your slick fingers over your clit was your undoing. You buried your face in his neck, entire body stuttering beneath him. His hips slowed but they never stilled completely while you rode out your orgasm; the first given to you by a man, and one that seemed to take blissfully forever to subside. Your body twitched and your breathing hitched for a while longer until it finally went limp beneath him. You sucked wind to get your breath back. 

Joel bit back a moan, “can I keep going? I’m close,”

“Yes, please, don’t stop.” You managed to pull yourself together enough to realize that he’d talked you through your climax, and now it was your turn to do the same for him. “You feel so fucking good inside me. So big, stuffing me full,”

His gaze caught yours as if he hadn't expected you to pick up like this. But you just smiled, leaned in, and licked a broad stripe up his neck. With your orgasm behind you, you unhooked your ankles behind him and let your legs fall wide down to the bed. His thrusts got less rhythmic as he chased his own high.

“Give it to me,” you whispered again, “gimme everything you got.”

“Where?” He groaned when his abs flexed involuntarily.

“Anywhere you want,”

He groaned and sat back on his knees, pumping into you in earnest. You reached for your breasts and squeezed them, your body bouncing and writhing beneath Joel; which he had a full, unobstructed view of now. It didn’t take long, just a few extra sloppy thrusts from him until he unsheathed himself from you and stroked his hand up and down his length in quick procession. Keeping your eyes on his, as he held eye contact, you chewed into your bottom lip when he let out a deep, hearty groan and moments later felt his spend decorating your stomach and waist. His gaze had left your face and shifted down to your body. A few ragged breaths filled his lungs before he leaned back over you with hands planted on the bed on either side of you.

His kisses were slow now. A stark contrast to how frantic they’d been at the start. And with far less tongue. Though it did still search for entrance back into your mouth. 

You smiled against his lips and scritched your fingers through his hair, “good?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” his eyes opened when you giggled. He kissed you once more, then rolled over onto his back beside you and turned his head, “good for you?”

With an enthusiastic nod, “definitely.”

He smiled breathlessly and looked back up at the ceiling inhaling a couple deep breaths to steady himself. But just as you opened your mouth to say something, to congratulate him on being the first man to get you to finish, he groaned and pushed himself out of bed. After pulling a new t-shirt from his dresser and a quick search for his underwear, which he pulled back up his legs and settled around his waist, he wordlessly went for the bedroom door and left you in the room alone. He was out before you had gathered your senses enough to question him.

Even the worst of your lovers had stuck around for more than a couple minutes afterward. Certainly didn’t remove themselves from the room. Sure they hadn’t gotten you off, but the one that had, just left you with a feeling of being used and a growing soreness between your legs. You took and held a deep breath, blinking rapidly to keep any frustrated tears from falling. Great. The guy you decided to let in is a runner. 

After a minute and feeling that your legs wouldn’t completely give out from under you, you carefully pushed yourself out of bed as to keep the aftermath of his orgasm off the furniture. Though you weren’t sure why you cared so much. He clearly didn’t. The search for your bra and underwear turned out to be harder than expected, until you’d found them tossed to his side of the bed. The only focus was to get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible. Pretend it’s nothing and get out of there.

“You’re leaving?”

Your head snapped up upon hearing Joel’s voice, and you found him in the doorway with a glass of water in his hands. 

You snatched up your pants, “yeah, I’m gonna go home.”

“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“You left and I feel a little in the way so…”

You picked up your shirt, the last item you needed. Joel looked dumbfounded, and it wasn’t until you neared him to exit, that he pressed his free hand against your stomach gently. “I went to get you some water. And pull some things out for you in the bathroom,”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words, then noting that the glass of water he had was meant for you. “You left so I though you wanted–”

“I thought you might feel more comfortable getting cleaned up and going to the bathroom first.” He removed his hand from your stomach and reached to take the pile of clothes out of your arms. “Come back to me, okay? I don’t want you to go,”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “I know you’re probably good, but I need to cuddle after sex or I start to feel like a piece of meat.” He caught your hands as you tried to swat at him, and he stepped aside, patting your ass, “I’ll be waitin’ for you.”

Nodding and carrying on into the bathroom down the hall, you nearly burst into tears when you saw just what he’d been up to. You’d taken his leaving as a sign that he was no better than any other guy you’d slept with, but was once again shown that he wasn’t like the others. The shirt he’d taken from his dresser was there, waiting for you to claim. A warm, wet washcloth had been placed beside the sink for you, along with a pack of unscented wipes. Your cheeks got hot at the thought – Joel Miller cared about your delicate pH balance.

You went about your business, wiping his spend away with the washcloth, cleaning yourself up, and each moment growing more restless to be back in bed with him. The more you thought about it, the more dangerous you felt it’d become. What if you couldn’t keep your hands off him?

Coming back down the hall and re-entering his bedroom in nothing but his t-shirt, you were blessed with the image of Joel laid back in bed in his boxer briefs. He was staring absently at his hands in his lap, but when he noticed you’d returned, a wide grin crossed his face. He held his arm out to the side as if creating the spot you’d so nicely fit into. And you did. Crawled up the length of the bed and tucked yourself into his side, head resting on his chest. You wrapped an arm around his torso, giving it a squeeze for good measure to keep him close. Once you were situated, he lowered his arm around you, settling it over your ass. There was comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Nothing but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the softness of his breath. He punctuated the end of the silence with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I really enjoyed that,” he mentioned.

“Me too,”

“Is that going to be the only time I get to enjoy it or do you think it’s something we might get to do again?”

But this time, all you did was shrug and it didn’t necessarily put his heart at ease. And despite knowing that wasn’t the answer he hoped he was going to get off the bat, he didn’t press for a definitive answer.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Not getting the sense it had anything to do with pressing his previous case, you tilted your head back and looked up at him.

He smiled softly and dragged his fingertip down the bridge of your nose, “is there a reason you didn’t want me to go down on you?”

“Yes,”

“Okay,” he nodded and squeezed your ass softly; a sign that that was all he wanted to know. The reason didn’t necessarily matter.

But he was being gentle and soft, and in the afterglow of sex, you didn’t quite care if he knew the reason. “It requires more intimacy,”

He smiled, “more than me being inside you?”

You nodded and Joel gathered you were entirely serious. “It’s easy for me to disconnect myself from my body when it’s just… penetration,” you mumbled, thinking he’d laugh at the term like a teenager. But instead, his expression remained even. “It’s harder for me to do that with oral so it feels more vulnerable,”

Joel shook his head. Silent reassurance that you didn’t need to convince him of anything. “I understand,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “And I know faking orgasms is in the women’s handbook of physical intimacy, and I’m not disillusioned enough to believe a woman’s never faked it with me, but… I hope you didn’t,”

Your heart beat heavy in your chest, threatening to break out of your ribcage. You stretched upward until he was close enough to kiss, and then you did so, curling your fingers in his beard. Only when you pulled away, “I didn’t.”

He grinned and pulled your leg over his waist. “You wanna stay tonight?”

And you knew it was going to be another answer he didn’t want to hear. You knew you were going to break his heart. And yet you said it anyway, “no I should go home in a little bit,”

He did his best to hide his disappointment, and you hardly saw any of it before he nodded in acceptance.

Fifteen minutes later after thinking maybe you’d change your mind, you and Joel were dressed again – you still in his t-shirt – as he walked you back to your house. Though he had reached for your hand, you dodged it in fear that nosy neighbors would see you. It was bad enough they could see him walk you back to your place at this hour.

At your door, Joel silently watched you unlock it and nudge it open. He pressed a smile in your direction once you turned back to him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “for tonight. And for fixing my fridge,”

“‘S’nothing,” he insisted and leaned into you. His hand found a spot behind your head as he backed you up against the door jamb, being saved by the back of his hand rather than knocking into the wood. 

The kiss he gave you felt different than all the other ones had felt tonight. Yes, it was slow. But previously, the slow ones had felt like the unhurried motions of a doting lover. This one felt like he was making it last for as long as he could for he might never get another. You placed a hand on his stomach, feeling your legs turn wobbly. By the end of the kiss, you swore you would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for his steadying hands.

Once parted, you backed into your house and gave him one last smile before you shut and locked the door. But hidden inside, you ran to the living room to spy on him and found that he had remained in place by your door; one hand propped up against the jamb. He breathed a couple quiet breaths before turning and descending your porch steps and slowly returning to his home.

[lightseoul]

changes

synopsis. it's 11 PM, and you're missing him.

cw. fem!reader, grad student!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~26 yrs old), mentions of alcohol

word count. 1.0k words

“Long day at uni?”

You look up from the glass of beer you’re mindlessly staring at to Uraraka, who’s seated at the booth across from you, a worried expression plastered on her face.

You heave a sigh. “You know the works. Exams, presentations,” you cringe, “I got called for oral recitation.”

At that, Uraraka winces. “Yeesh.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, almost defensively. You take a swig of your beverage before continuing. “I stuttered a bit, but I was able to answer the question.”

“That’s our girl.”

You smile, feeling warm from the praise.

A silence falls over you before Uraraka speaks up again.

“Is there any reason why you’re drinking at,” she checks her watch, “11:30 on a Tuesday night?”

Your smile falters before you could school it into a playful pout.

“What, am I not allowed to want to spend time with one of my best friends?”

At the mention of the title, Uraraka’s expression softens from a questioning look to that of endearment.

“Of course, you are. It’s just that,” she hesitates, and you brace yourself for what’s to come next.

“It’s not like you to do this, is all.”

You could only hum in response, breaking eye contact.

You go back to tracing the beads of condensation falling down the perimeters of the glass.

The other bar-goers around you are loud in their own conversations.

“...How long has it been since?”

You don’t need to think twice to know what she’s referring to.

Normally, you’d feign ignorance and pretend you absolutely had no idea what the other person is asking about.

But this is Uraraka, one of your closest friends from when you worked on a mission together back when you were still early 20-somethings, and the truth just comes spilling out before you could give it a second thought.

“One month, two weeks, six days.”

You chance a peek at Uraraka’s face, and you almost instantly regret it. She’s sporting an amused look, probably to assuage the embarrassment you’re feeling, but you could spot the hints of pity that lace her expression.

Embarrassment still manages to swell in your stomach.

“Do you miss him?”

You snort.

“If I answer that, you’re gonna think I’m a loser.”

“No, I won’t!” she answers immediately, voice raised. Wary of how loud she just got, she tones it back down before proceeding.

“It’s only natural that you miss him, Y/N. You dated for quite a while.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, but your voice still ends up garbled. “Yeah.”

Without much thought, your eyes drift to your phone, which sits between the two of you on the table. Uraraka follows your gaze, and from the corner of your eye, you see her twitch in panic when she realizes what you’re looking at.

“Uh—I don’t think you should, Y/N.” She sounds hesitant. “You’re tipsy—you’re not thinking straight.”

You frown, looking down at your hands wrapped around the almost-finished beer. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“...You might regret it tomorrow.”

You’d like to think you knew what you were getting yourself into when you said yes to being Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki’s girlfriend three years ago.

Going into it, you knew it was going to be far from easy, but you told yourself you could weather it.

The constant absence, the missed dates, the pestering paparazzi—all of it.

But the theoretical ended up being different from the real thing.

“I feel like I’m dating a ghost, Katsuki. You’re barely around, and I rarely get to spend time with you. What’s the point of being in this relationship when I never get to be with my boyfriend?”

You clench your eyes closed at the memory, willing it to go away. Now sprawled on top of your bed after Uraraka drove you home at exactly midnight (“I have the morning shift tomorrow,” she reasoned), you hold your phone close to your chest, debating whether or not to make the damned call.

You haven’t spoken to him since.

If this radio silence has been unintentional or is by design, you don’t know—but you do know one thing.

That it hurt.

And it’s silly, really, because you’re the one who called it off.

Sighing for the nth time that night, you prop your phone on your chest, thumbing the password before clicking your contacts and scrolling through your Favorites.

You didn’t have the heart to delete his number.

You still don’t, apparently.

“Hello?”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re too stunned by the fact that he answered that you forget to respond.

“Y/N?”

“I’m–” you clear your throat, “I’m here.”

A few seconds pass before he speaks again.

“You’re drunk,” he says more as a matter of factly than asks. How he’s able to tell you’ve been drinking is beyond you, but you don’t question him.

There are far more important things.

Like, just hearing his voice.

His voice is gruff, probably from sleep, when he asks: “Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

You ignore his question. “What’re you doing up?”

Though, it suddenly dawns on you that you probably woke him up. You mentally slap yourself.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.”

Your heart is thrumming and your brain is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut, but you press on anyway. “Can I ask why?”

At that, he chuckles, but you can tell there’s no humor in it.

“It’d probably be best for us if you don’t.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Try again.

“Do you miss me, Katsuki?”

He sighs in defeat. “Every single fucking day, princess.”

Your gut twists in delight despite yourself.

In your drunken haze, you’re about to tell him that you miss him, too, and that you’re ninety-nine percent sure that you’re still in love with him, when he cuts you off.

“But nothing’s changed since then.”

He sounds exhausted.

“I don’t want to keep on hurting you like I did, Y/N.”’

You brace yourself for the impact.

“...So, goodbye.”

You hear a click, and before you know it, the line is dead.

[mlmxreader]

05/04 onwards prompts

side note: this prompt list is only for requests to be sent to @mlmxreader , please do not use for your own writing or your own inspiration, thank you.

rules: you can mix & match as always!! multiple prompts can be sent at a time!! there's 30 in each (90 in total), so there should be plenty!

RULES & GUIDELINES

misc dialogue

“I did it exactly the way you liked it”

“Call it off!”

“Either you get out of my face, or you kiss me”

“Look, I can keep you safe here”

“Didn’t I promise to always be there?”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that it meant nothing”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Please tell me you found something”

“Just ignore the bloody phone”

“Seemed like your kinda thing”

“Bite your fucking tongue or I will cut it out”

“Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“Sit down. We need to talk about whatever the fuck this is between us”

“Easy, easy! Calm down!”

“Can you, erm, can you stay the night? I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone”

“I trust you - it’s everybody else I don’t trust”

“We can’t unring this bell”

“Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“So, what’d you wanna do?”

“Stop biting your lip like that”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” “Maybe”

“I just need to hear you say that this - me - is what you want”

“You said you couldn’t stay.” “It’s different”

“Don’t leave me again”

“Do not fucking scare me like that!”

“C’mon, it ain’t all bad”

“Not even a good luck kiss?”

“We can do this together, if that’s what you want”

“What’s the matter with you? You’re all… distant and shit”

“Sucks, don’t it?”

rules & guidelines

LYRICS

Orville Peck: Dead Of Night, Winds Change, Turn To Hate, Queen Of The Rodeo, Kansas (Remembers Me Now)

Judas Priest: Breaking The Law, Grinder, United, You Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise

“You're right by my side”

“You wake me up, you say it's time to ride”

“I don't mean no lies, baby, please don't lose it”

“From the way that we said goodbye, I knew I'd never see you again”

“Don't leave, don't cry”

“You're just another boy caught in the rye”

“Tell me you can't wait”

“Tell me you can stay”

“You rode on in with nowhere else to go”

“You know the tune so the words don't matter”

“Beyond this town lies a life much sadder”

“Babe, I know”

“Come and lay down your shoulder”

“Tomorrow isn't that far”

“Just know you were always my star”

“All inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town”

“Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die”

“I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart”

“You don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue”

“That's why I won't get caught”

“I need room to breathe”

“I take my leave”

“They're moving in”

“Hold your ground”

“We can do it”

“So keep it up”

“Don't give in”

“Let's get one thing straight”

“I'll choose my fate”

“And it's got nothing to do with you”

rules & guidelines

FILMS

Horror: JAWS (1975), The Silence of the Lambs (1991), The Thing (1982), The Wolf Man (1941), Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)

“You yell shark, and we got a panic on our hands on the fourth of July”

“It wasn’t any propeller, it wasn’t any coral reef, and it wasn’t any Jack the Ripper - it was a shark”

“This guy, he keeps swimming around in place until the food goes down”

“Smile, you son of a bitch”

“But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don’t you - why don’t you look at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you’re afraid to”

“I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I’d rather not spend the rest of this winter tied to this fucking couch!”

“Yeah, fuck you, too!”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding”

“I dunno what the hell’s in there, but it’s weird and pissed off whatever it is”

“You’re gonna have to sleep sometime.” “I’m a real light sleeper”

“Now I’ll show you what I already know”

“The generator’s gone.” “Any way we can fix it?” “It’s gone”

“Poor baby, you’re starting to lose it”

“There’s a storm hitting us in about six hours. We’re going to find out who’s who”

“The way you walked was thorny, through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end”

“Frightened, of what?” “Of the night.” “Rubbish. You startled me.”

“A werewolf can only be killed by a silver bullet, or a silver knife...or a stick with a silver handle”

“I tell you, I killed a wolf! A plain, ordinary wolf!”

“It isn't a wolf... it's a werewolf!”

“Were you hurrying back to the castle? Did you have a moment's doubt? Were you hurrying to make sure he's all right?”

“Now you asked me if I believe a man can become a wolf. If you mean "Can it take on the physical traits of an animal?" No, it's fantastic.”

“Just imagine having a stuffed werewolf staring at you from the wall!”

“Is this your walking stick?” “Why, yes. That's the stick I killed the wolf with.”

“Don't try to make me believe that I killed a man when I know that I killed a wolf!”

“There's something very tragic about that man... and I'm sure that nothing but harm will come to you through him.”

“It's not a horse's head. That's a wolf's head. Make a note of that”

“Whoever is bitten by a werewolf and lives becomes a werewolf himself.” “Ah, don't hand me that. You're just wasting your time.” “The wolf bit you, didn't he?” “Yeah. Yeah he did!”

“Perhaps you prefer a gentleman. One of those fine-mannered and honourable gentlemen. Those panting hypocrites”

“Forgotten it? Can a man dying of thirst forget water? And do you know what would happen to that thirst if it were to be denied water?”

“Gentlemen like me have to be very careful of what we do and say”

rules & guidelines

SONG FICS!

[mimisempai]

Sunny afternoon

Summary

Just a sunny afternoon at the park and some sweaty kisses...

Notes

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Kiss #30: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

On Ao3

Rating G -  561 words

Aziraphale took off his jacket and laid it on the ground, rolled up his sleeves, undid his bow tie, and finally undid the first two buttons of his shirt. He sat down on the ground and leaned back against the tree, sighing with satisfaction, glad to finally be in some shade. He had left Crowley and Muriel to feed the ducks in order to find a nice, sheltered place to get out of the sun. 

He leaned his head against the trunk of the old oak and closed his eyes. Soon, lulled by the surrounding sounds of birds singing and children laughing, and a little dazed by the unexpected warmth, he drifted off to sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was awakened by a light touch on his cheek and a slight chuckle as he patted the air with his hand.

He opened his eyes to see Crowley kneeling beside him, waving a fan in front of him.

The angel raised his face to the pleasant breeze and hummed with delight before saying, "Oh, my dear, that's divine."

Crowley chuckled and replied, "Me and divine in the same sentence, I don't know if the Almighty would like that."

Aziraphale replied, "Who cares what she likes or doesn't like?"

The demon continued to wave the fan until Aziraphale took it from him and returned the favor by waving it in front of his lover's face. 

As he did so, he asked, "Where did you get it?"

Crowley shrugged and replied, "You know, demon, miracle and all. It's nothing complicated."

He grabbed the fan, closed it with a snap, and set it on the floor. Then he leaned over to kiss the angel, but Aziraphale pushed him away, saying, "Oh, no, Crowley, I'm all sweaty, it's a little disgusting..."

Without listening to his lover, Crowley planted a light kiss on the angel's cheek anyway, before sitting down next to him and saying, "Me too, so it's okay." 

Then, he raised his eyebrow exaggeratedly and added, "It's a fact. We're both hot."

"Idiot."

Aziraphale turned his face to the demon's, and despite his initial reluctance, it was he who pressed a light kiss to his lover's lips.

Crowley's hand rested on the angel's moist cheek as he returned the kiss, keeping it light as well.

They continued to kiss in this manner, almost lazily, unhurriedly, tenderly, without trying to go deeper, for one thing, they were in public, and for another, it was far too hot for that. 

Then the demon rested his head on the angel's shoulder, humming contentedly as Aziraphale picked up the fan that had been left on the floor. The angel opened it, then rested his cheek on the demon's head and waved the fan in front of their close faces.

He asked quietly, "Where's Muriel?"

Crowley replied, "They felt like walking around the park. They're apparently less bothered by the heat than we are."

"Hm, finally, I have to say, I'm not that bothered."

Crowley looked up at the angel and asked in an interested voice, "Oh, yeah? Does that mean I can k--"

Aziraphale didn't let him continue and instead of answering, pressed his lips to the demon's in a slightly more heated kiss.

And if the fan was left on the ground once more, it would probably be needed again soon.

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable kisses series : here

Ineffable Growing Love - Series post S2

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

[mpregstory]

TRAM

Student life is hard. I would not have thought that at the age of 25 I would not have started a permanent apprenticeship. It's 3 p.m. and I still got my tram. It's totally full and I only got a side seat next to a guy. He must be around 30 years old. Next to his jogging pants and his sweater, both of which are black, I notice his large stomach which causes his right leg to press against mine. He looks stressed and I keep hearing him moan. It's not loud, but noticeable. We drive a few minutes and after he takes a deep breath I whisper to him: „Hey man, are you alright?“ he recognize me and says: „Yes, I'm actually fine. Just some strong baby kicks and a full bladder, damn.“ His leg presses against mine again. I take off my headphones and look at him. "Must be far, right? How long do you have to drive?” He turns his head to me and I look into his ocean blue eyes. "About 30 minutes left, I just have the feeling I can't last that long. It's all so stressful." He seems really stressed. Should I let him go with me for a moment? I live right around the corner. „Hey boy, maybe you can use my toilet? My place is next stop. Then it's just a few minutes to my apartment. Wouldn't really be a thing.“ I smile a bit. "Oof I don't know. Only if you really don't mind. I'm a little embarrassed, haha" When he laughs, his whole stomach shakes with him. I lean towards him and whisper: "I don't mind." Then I get up and ask "Shall I help you to stand up?" He declines with thanks and slowly stand up after me and I see big baby bump again. It’s enormous.

My pace adapts to the man and I ask politely: "Hey, what's your name?" The sunlight gives his curly brown hair a red tinge. "I'm Phillip. What about you?" I have to smile again. "Hey Phillip, I'm Max, like Maximilian, but Max is fine, nice to meet you. Don't worry, there are only a few steps left." He groans once more. "You have no idea how grateful I am that you let me use your toilet. You really are an angel!” We cross the street and enter my place. He takes longer to climb the stairs to the second floor but I wait for him. „This is my front door. I actually live in a shared apartment, but my roommate is on vacation. I'll tell you after you're done where you can and can't go haha. Um...your-...your water won't break, right? The parquet floor was really expensive, haha” He has to laugh a little. "I don't think. It's embarrassing enough that I'm here, Max" he smiles and enters the bathroom. I take a seat at my table and drift into thoughts and for some reason my thoughts find themselves in Phillip's eyes. Those ocean eyes. He's already a cutie. Under other circumstances maybe even crush potential. But I don't know if I would be ready to have a child at my current age. But his face is very attractive- "-Max?" My thoughts fall apart and I'm back to reality. "I'm here, oh man, sorry I was on my mind. How are you?” Phillip comes to me: “Much better, thanks again. It's so warm to be honest.” I look at his sweater. "No wonder, also black." I get up and get drinks from the fridge. "Do you have a problem with me taking off my sweater for a moment?"I shake my head briefly and reach for the soda, then turn back to Phillip who is just pulling his sweater over his head. I see a large tattoo below his navel, a pierced nipple and Calvin Klein underpants, as well as his bulge which is accentuated a little by taking off his clothes. "Nice Tattoo, oh there are more…"

"Yeah haha, I'm glad my stomach didn't stretched them that much. You know, it wasn't all planned." I let Phillip sit down next to me and he grabs the soda as I said. "I know the question is weird, but how old are you?"I try to keep eye contact because I'm just fascinated by the color of his eyes. "Actually 32, what about you?" He takes a sip and looks at me expectantly. "Um...I'm 25, studying. What do you do for a living?” I delve into that face again. "Well, currently on parental leave, but otherwise I'm a graphic designer. I've only been feeling uncomfortable at work lately due to my back pain when sitting at the computer all day. I'm glad to have some free time now. Oh, did you still want to learn today or something? I don't want to disturb, you know-" I immediately interrupt: "What?, no, haha, you're not disturbing me and you can stay longer if you want. A little company and such. In addition, I always find it great to meet new people who are hot, uh, likeable, yes yes" he laughs and then leans slightly towards me while looking straight in the my eyes and says, "So hot? So that's what it looks like. Cute.”

It was really unbelievable how well we both could have conversations and small talk quickly turned into hours of conversation. In addition, sparks jumped between us, which was even more incredible. What an afternoon.

It's already getting dark and it's just like jumping back into reality and I realize that I can't and don't want to let Phillip go outside alone anymore. I get up and grab the toast. "Hey, do you want some toast? Then I'll do several.” I can hear a slight mumbling behind me and turn to Phillip who, with his eyes closed, is pressing his right hand to his stomach. "Everything okay?" His chin presses against his chest but he slowly answers "Yeah, just braxton hicks again like this afternoon on the train. Yes, I'll take two of the toasts too." I let Phillip breathe and take care of the food. "Well I only find it responsible if you sleep here tonight. I don't want to send you home now. You are so alone and fragile. Would that be okay?” Phillip seems to regain his composure and looks me straight in the eyes. "Okay, if that's okay with you? I'll take the couch back there-" I interrupt Phillip directly, "No no no you get my bed I can sleep on the couch. No arguments.” Phillip laughs a little and even gives me a reassuring smile as I put our toasts on the table.

I got both sleeping places ready and did the rest of the household chores and then somehow ended up with Phillip, both of us in our underpants, brushing our teeth in the bathroom. It was a difficult situation. From time to time his stomach touched mine and of course I biological reacted and I had to constantly watch not to get hard. Despite everything, there was also a lot to laugh about.

I wash my mouth and put my toothbrush back in my mug as Phillip's gaze captures me again. It's an intense moment and we get unusually close. He's a little taller than me but leans in and kisses me. I can not move. I just feel his soft lips on mine and my arms automatically go to his neck. It's weird, but I want it. I'll let it. Eventually our lips part and I escort Phillip to my room. "If anything, I'll be right next door, yes? Make yourself comfortable and with that I think I'll say good-" Phillip grabs me and throws me onto the bed. I'm startled and lie on the bed with my legs apart. I then assume that I will not sleep on the couch and at the latest when Phillip starts to mount me and we both get hard, I knew exactly where this is going...

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[eds6ngel]

I love the teacher AU! I would like to read about their first fight (as a couple).

I was thinking about something really angsty with Steve being so sad because he's pretty sure they're gonna break up and Alena helps him to apologize. A happy ending! (the cutest little family <3)

of course my love!! and thank you so much for the compliment!! i hope this is angsty enough for you :') ♡

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. use of y/n. pet names. swearing. food mentions. angst. fighting. yelling. everyone cries :'). hurt. angst. comfort. fluff. happy ending!! [1.7k].

author's note: just some quick context! if you haven't read the 'sleeping over' spinoff, it's established that alena calls reader 'mubba' as a pre-mom term before she officially calls her 'mom.'

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

It was currently 9:30PM, two hours after Alena was supposed to go to bed for the night. Steve trying everything from reading her favourite book, to tucking her in, to trying to let her fall asleep to the sounds of The Smurfs, she would not drift off at all.

Steve wanders out of Alena’s room, the sound of giggling from the little girl still being heard from the other side of the door. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. You’re currently cleaning up the dishes from the dinner you made for you and Alena a few hours before, Steve having to work a little later than usual.

He huffs into your neck, mumbling, “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t go to sleep. This isn’t like her at all.”

You move your right hand to stroke your boyfriend’s hair, asking, “Is she just refusing or can she genuinely not drift off?”

“The latter,” he sighs, “I tucked her in at 7:30 as usual, went back in half an hour later and she’s on the floor playing with her stuffed animals.”

“Maybe you’re just gonna have to let her become tired,” you suggest, “You can’t force the mind to drift off, that’s not how it works. Leave the blinds closed, keep her light off, put her toys away, she’ll become sleepy soon enough.”

“It’s just… weird,” he contemplates, “She knows her nighttime routine like a book. She knows when to get ready for bed, what time to fall asleep, and her body has sort become accustomed to that. I just don’t understand why she’s not tired—”

Steve pauses mid-sentence as he sees the plate of chocolate chip cookies perched on the side of the countertop beside the stove. “When did you make these?” he questions.

“Oh, the cookies?” you ask, him humming, “Whilst I was making dinner for Alena and I. Thought it would make a good dessert. Simple to make and not too heavy on the stomach. Why? Would you like one?”

“What time did you say you and Alena ate dinner again?”

You scrunch your eyebrows up, “6PM. Little later than what you normally do, but only by an hour.”

Steve lets out a huff, leaning against the counter and pursing his lips, “So you’re telling me, you gave my seven-year-old daughter a chocolate chip cookie for dessert an hour and fifteen before her bedtime?”

You quickly link the dots, realising the mistake you had made. However, the words that come out of your mouth were not ones of apology, but rather of defense. “You normally give her a treat after her dinner!”

His voice becomes more stern, “Yeah, at 5PM. Besides, I give her a tiny bowl of light ice cream, the sugar levels are small, I checked the packaging. How many cups of sugar did you use for the cookie recipe?”

You look down to the floor, whispering out, “Three quarter cup.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, “Plus the chocolate in that too. Jesus Y/N, no wonder she’s so hyper! She’s got so much sugar in her system still, her poor body is still trying to wear it off!”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you snap at him, “I made a fucking mistake, it’s not like I can turn back time, is it?” You take a breather, cooling off and placing the back of your hand against your forehead, “Look, it simply crossed my mind, okay? I picked her up from school, which by the way, her teacher was extremely fussy considering my reputation around there. I brought her home, we completed her homework, and then I got down to cooking dinner for us. I simply decided to make some cookies on the side for all of us to have as a treat when we wanted, as well as cook our chicken curry—”

“Don’t bullshit me with the ‘I made them for you too!’ because that shit ain’t sliding, okay?” Steve interrupts you abruptly. “It is gone nine, my daughter is two hours past her bedtime and she still won’t fall asleep because you decided to make some cookies and give one to her.”

“I’m not trying to bullshit you, Steve!” you try to reason with him, “It’s just every time you make her dinner, you give her a treat afterwards. I didn’t even think about the time, and the sugar levels, and all that shit, I just copied what you did as a parent.”

Steve cannot keep the rage down, the words spilling from his mouth, “You’re not her mom, okay? Stop trying to act like you know how to parent her, because you don’t.”

Before you can say anything in your fit of rage, a small gasp can be heard from the side of you, Alena standing outside of her bedroom door, Mr. Hopps gripped tightly in her arms as tears brim at her eyes. “I thought mubba did a good job today…”

You walk past Steve, the tears from her becoming infectious as you sniffle yourself, stroking Alena’s cheek, and whispering, just loud enough so Steve could hear, “Yeah, I thought I did too, baby.” You power to Steve’s room, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, the door creaking as you close it behind you, the Harringtons now remaining alone in the kitchen.

The sound of Steve’s hitched breaths and his shaking shoulders lead Alena to tugging at his shirt. Steve quickly rubs at his eyes, lifting his daughter up comfortably onto his hip. Alena gasps again as she sees how red her dad’s eyes are, wiping the remaining tears away with her small thumb, just like he did with her. “Why did you yell at mubba, daddy? She was very kind and nice to me today…”

He walks over to the couch, leaning back, Alena moving to sit on his lap, Steve saying out loud, “I think she’s gonna break-up with me…”

“Why, daddy? You were only arguing.”

He sniffles, “But, what daddy said was really mean, sweetpea. I said that she isn’t your mom and that she wouldn’t be a good parent. That’s not a nice thing to say, is it?”

“No…” she mumbles, quickly cheering back up, “But, you didn’t mean it, right?

He shakes his head, “’Course I didn’t pumpkin, you know I love your mubba and I hate that I hurt her.”

“Hmmm,” she thinks, putting her hand under her chin, looking deep in thought, “Well… why don’t you say sorry? Like, at school, me and Ashley had a fight, and Mrs. Woodstock made us say sorry to each other, and now we are okay again! Why don’t you do that with mubba?”

“You know what?” Steve replies, “I think I will do that, sweetpea.” He begins to stand up, holding out his hand, “You wanna come?” Alena nodding her head and wrapping her small hand in his as they head over to his bedroom.

Steve lightly knocks on the door, not wanting to startle you, “Babe, it’s us. Can we come in?”

With no response, Steve enters the room, you sitting on the edge of his bed, tears stained on your face as you stare off into the distance. He lets go of Alena’s hand, her standing small off to the side as he leans down in front of you. He sighs as he sees your disheveled hair, puffy eyes and red nose, instantly cooing, “C’mere,” wrapping his arms around you.

You cry into his shoulder, him reassuring you, “I know, I know. Let it out, beautiful.”

You manage to contain your sniffles, enough to choke out the words, “I’m sorry. It’s just… I really tried. I thought I did an okay job at tonight with what time I was given after work and stuff, picking up Alena and everything. And the timing of the cookies never crossed my mind and… I’m just sorry. I’ll be more mindful next time. Just… what you said really hurt me, as I am trying my best, honey. I really am. And I didn’t mean to get so defensive, just your words really hurt me, and that’s why I had that reaction.”

He soothingly rubs your back, muttering, “I know. I know. I’m sorry too.” He pulls back, cupping your face in his large palms, “What I said was terrible, and was a complete heat of the moment thing. What you do for Alena is amazing, and I can’t thank you enough. And she said it herself, she thought you did good today, and that’s all that matters, right? Sure, I may have been a little annoyed about her not going to bed on time, but mistakes happen. You simply copied what I did, you’re trying to adapt to this whole parenting thing, and if I’m being completely honest babe… You are doing the absolute best. I could not ask for someone better to be the mother figure to my daughter, okay?”

You nod, Steve muttering out, “Are we okay?” stroking your cheeks, “You aren’t gonna break-up with me or anything?”

You let out a small giggle, “Steven Joseph Harrington, you would have to do something a lot worse than that to make me break-up with you.” He chuckles along with you, looking to the floor as he lets out a breath of relief. It’s now your turn to cup his cheeks, “It’s just a bump in the road. We’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “We’re okay.” He hugs you once again, you reciprocating this time as you wrap your arms around his broad back. Suddenly a small head pops up beside you, shyly asking, “Can I have a hug too?”

Thinking the same idea, Steve wraps his right arm around Alena’s shoulder as you wrap your left around her back, the three of you joining in a delicate group hug. It was during bumps like this that you remembered: Even when things got tough, at least you had your little family to lean on, especially your future daughter, the saviour of your relationship troubles.

i hope you enjoyed!! three more asks to go for this series! i'm happy for anyone to send in more ideas if you have some! also, any general feedback and appreciation in my asks too!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic

[twstfanblog]

*~Nasty Neige~*

AN: GOD, I lost control over this fic the second I started it, I didn't mean to make this thing so long. Which is why it took me so long to get everything down and editing. I know I missed something but I can make edits as I put links up on the other entries.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Neige being a general creepy guy. Obsessive thoughts, stalker vibes. Swears. She/They Yuu OC.

Pairings: Vil/Rook, Vil & Yuu (Siblings), One-sided Vil/Neige, Epel/Deuce?/Jack? (Guess)

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1 (Here), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Diasomnia)

Classes didn’t start for another week and the open house event didn’t start for another day, so Yuu didn’t have any reason to be awake before noon. But she was because her trauma-filled body kept hearing noise downstairs. The first few times she was able to drift back to sleep, not hearing anything after the initial sound and assuming Grim was walking around looking for snacks. But then she realized Grim was still sleeping tucked up against her stomach, more floorboards creaking downstairs with no explanation. She does her best to not jostle Grim, reaching to the nightstand and grabbing her phone, cursing under her breath as she sees it was barely past 8:30 am.

She didn’t change out of her pjs, slipping on her houseshoes while she left the bed. Making sure Grim was tucked into the still-warm covers, Yuu grabbed her golf cub, making her way downstairs and avoiding the loud boards. Even after multiple renovations, there were still floorboards that creaked and on bad storm nights the whole house sounded like it groaned. (A part of her simply made peace with that it wouldn’t be Ramshackle if it wasn’t a little old and creaky). Besides her, Grim was the only one who knew what boards hated being stepped on. Ortho knew them too but he didn’t walk much. Epel seemed to take sick pleasure in stepping on each one whenever he came over, and the rest of her friends were either too naturally loud or heavy to not make noise in the dorm. 

She would have felt more at ease if whoever was in her house was being loud. Her friends were loud, even if they knew she was asleep. But whoever was there was trying to be quiet and failing. Once downstairs she tries to hear where the intruder was, poising to swing. The sound of the toaster popping gives her the element of surprise, rushing into the kitchen.

Both she and the blond intruder scream when they see each other, Yuu just barely stopping her swing. Vil braced himself against the counter, breathing in a forced calm pattern before glaring at her. His hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, face bare besides a tinted lipgloss. Dressed in a modified cropped yellow hoodie, high-waisted black leggings and simple sneakers, “I swear you and Epel are determined to give me gray hairs! Why are you just so ready to deal violence!? It’s 8 in the morning!”

Yuu leans against her golf cub, trying to ease her own adrenaline spike, “Yeah! It’s 8 am, why are you in my house!? Also, are you dying? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without foundation.” Her anger grows seeing the disheveled model look at her with a pinched face, not answering her as he turns back to plate the food he was cooking on her stove. She opens her mouth to yell again, only to look at the kitchen window and realize, “...Did you close the blinds?”

Yuu had an odd relationship with blinds after meeting Rook. Yes, she kept her more personal areas heavily covered and only opened them for her monthly dorm deep clean, but the more communal areas of the dorm were free to be viewed from outside. It was nice sometimes to be relaxing on her lonesome only to hear a tap against a window. A tap could be Jack and Vil on their morning runs asking her to pass them glasses of water or fruit she had on hand. Maybe Lilia coming to scare her or show her a new melody he’d learned. Ace or Deuce coming to beg her for help after they’ve pissed Riddle off. And Vil knew Rook would rather enter through a window than a damn doorway. Either way, open blinds at Ramshackle had come to mean ‘Come in’. Something that Rook delighted in whenever he wasn’t too busy with his ‘errands’.

“...” She looks around, finally taking note how all of her downstairs windows seemed to have not only their binds but the thick curtains closed, “Are you and Rook fighting?”

“Oh, he’s going to wish we were when I get back in the dorm…”

She laughs, watching the model bite into a slice of toast with a runny egg on top of it, “Oh sevens, the year hasn’t even started yet. Why are you fighting?” 

Vil huffed, rolling his eyes, trying to avoid her gaze. Talking with one’s mouth full was just rude, plus he knew if he started ranting his food would be cold before he was done. If he had to hide out at Ramshackle for the day he would need the protein. Glancing down at Yuu, he openly takes another big bite of toast, just to show he wasn’t going to answer her anytime soon.

“Ok, fuck you too then, I’ll just open the blinds while you’re being a bitch.”

He chokes on a bite, nearly dropping the plate in his rush to shove it onto the counter. Nails sinking into her shoulder to stop her, not caring at the mush of food falling out of his mouth as he shouts, “NO!”

Yuu hisses, a hand coming up to yank Vil’s hand away from her, “OW!? Ok, what is the issue? Is Rook finally coming to shave an undercut on you or something?”

Vil sighs, giving her a small apologetic look before he swallows, “Neige is in Pomefiore. I…really didn’t want to deal with him today so I managed to make my way here to hide out. I don’t think anyone saw me, but I didn’t want to risk someone seeing me from the windows…” He takes another bite of toast, fingers wiping yolk from his lips, “Sorry about your shoulder…”

“...” Yuu sighs, placing her club against the wall and waves his apology off, “It’s fine. I hate Neige too but like- Wait, why is his ass here?” At Vil’s equally bewildered shrug her brows crease, “The open house doesn’t start until tomorrow? Are you sure he’s like here, here?”

“Seeing how Rook was yelling outside my room about his ‘Roi de Neige’ being in Pomefiore and he had to make himself look presentable, I would think so.” Vil scoffs, rolling his eyes at the very idea of anyone liking Neige.

Good ole Rook, scaring the precious wildlife to get them to escape a foreign danger. Might as well send him a text to ask how long he thinks it’ll be until Vil was safe to enter his dorm again.

“Well, get comfy I guess. Idia made sure I was set with cable and various media players, so there should be something on the TV. I’m going to make breakfast for me and Grim.”

Vil moved out of her way, finishing off his breakfast before grabbing a mixing bowl to hand to her, “Sorry, I should have made you two something as well instead of just myself.”

“Please don’t. Your unseasoned pallet would send Grim over the edge.”

The dorm leader, moves the bowl out of her grip, smacking her on the head with it before putting it on the counter, “Fuck you, you don’t need to use salt and garlic salt in the same dish.”

“They are different things, Vil.”

“They’re both salt.”

Neige looked around before fully exiting from the mirror, a hand quickly making sure his wig was in place. It wasn’t hard borrowing a disguise from his friends on his current movie set. Decked out in a mid-length pink wig and pale blue contacts, a simple white shirt, indigo overalls and his dark brown boots he wasn’t the least bit recognizable. Biting into his lower lip softly, he squealed, staring at the castle against the early sky. That’s where Vi slept! The blond had been in this very pocket dimension for years, he walked on these paths, talked in the halls, bathed in the water- He needed to focus. Giving himself one last preening, he calms his breath and walks toward the dorm.

Each step made his heart flutter. Excitement and fear pulsing in his veins the closer he got to the large, pristine castle. He was breaking so many rules; he wasn't supposed to be here for many reasons. The open house wasn't even open for the Seven's sake, he didn't go to this school, and he had no one's permission to be here. But he had to, it was his only chance. The open house would no doubt have people crawling all over the campus. Neige wouldn't be able to walk around as himself, let alone be able to get some alone time to talk with his Vi.

Ah. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make his knees weak. 

He closes his eyes, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a self-hug when he finally steps onto the main area of the dorm. He breathes it all in, nearly missing a figure in an old yellow hoodie race past him to exit through the mirror. 

He opened his eyes in panic, looking to see if the other figure was suspicious of him. He lets out a breath in relief. Whoever they were, they seemed more interested in running to wherever. Vi had made posts about how proud he was of his dorm members taking morning runs, maybe they were simply late for a run with friends. His palms get sweaty as his thoughts start to race at the thought of Vi running with him.

The image of Vi in his black and light purple designer tracksuit, hair pulled back into a wind-swept ponytail. Lips open in a pant as sweat drips down his jaw- FOCUS. He wasn't here to fantasize! He could do that when he went back to his dorm. Hopefully after gaining something to remember his trip by.

His eyes scan the courtyard. It was beautiful as expected, with elegant pathways of carved stones and a large elaborate water feature giving a calming background noise to the area. Apple trees with bright red fruits scattered amongst the deep green grass. The area was so clean and proper he could almost imagine he was back on Royal Sword grounds.

Pulling out his phone he starts to walk on the grass, whispering a small apology for ignoring the very clear sign saying to ‘Stay Off’. Vi had posted a video in late spring. He and a few other students had replanted a number of trees after a mysterious storm had wrecked multiple dorms in NRC. The blond was shown smeared lightly with dirt, a smile on his face as he gently placed a nursery tree into a hole. The video ending on Vi smiling to the camera, air-kissing the leaves of the tree and a message showing up. 'Grow up lovely, little tree'

(Neige won't comment on how he spent an hour in the bathroom connected to his dorm room, trying to hide his sobs as he promised the paused video to grow up to be a big lovely tree. He doesn't think he was successful if Chenya's side-eye was anything to note.)

He wanted to find that tree, he needed to. The urge to simply touch it, feel the bark and soil that were touched by the hands of perfection. Maybe, if it wasn't too tall yet, he could even kiss those same leaves…

It took him nearly an hour, 9 am rolling around and the sun making its formal appearance in the sky, but he found it. Tucked neatly at a distance from two adult trees, small blooms in the branches but no fruits. This was the tree.

Neige takes a picture, walking closer and snapping more as he posed in front of the tree. He looks the tree over and frowns, in such a short amount of time the tree had matured too tall for him to properly kiss its leaves. He couldn't even take a blossom without struggling to climb the still-thin tree. He was light, but he couldn't risk harming the tree Vi had put such love and dedication to. 

Instead, he looks around, making sure there was still no one walking around the courtyard before he gently placed his hands on the trunk of the tree. One last nervous glance around, he licks his lips, leaning forward to lightly air kiss against the bark of the tree. Pulling back he felt his nerves alight, filling him with excitement that pulled him back toward the tree. This time his lips connected against the rough bark, lips stinging from the contact before he pulls away.

An indirect kiss with his Vi. The tree was their shared project now, another creative child they can look back on together. He can barely hold back his squeal, bouncing on his heels before wrapping his arms around the tree in a hug. He even peppers a few more kisses onto the bark.

Rook had only sent a single text to respond to her. Stating he would come for Vil when he was done with his hunt before ignoring her other messages. Even now, as lunch rolled around, there was still no answer from the French man.

"Do you not have anything that's prepacked or frozen to eat, potato?"

Yuu looks up from the kitchen table, glaring at the model searching through her cabinets, "You know, you don't need to be here. You could just go back to Pomefiore and deal with your waking nightmare." She turns back to her phone, ignoring Vil's groan and him slamming the cupboard shut.

"You know I can't. Not until I’m sure Neige is gone anyway…" He sighs, moving to sit beside her at the table, "Well, it's not healthy, but I guess I can afford to skip lunch…"

"..." She huffs, rolling her eyes and standing, "No skipping meals, Regina. How about you let me get you a cheat day snack and we can spend time watching terrible movies?"

Vil raised an eyebrow at her, a single black painted nail tapping at the table as he thought her offer over. Vil didn't take cheat days often, if ever. But…he was probably due for one. While he found her food to be disgustingly overseasoned, Yuu did make efforts to modify her favorites so he'd feel comfortable indulging himself. He clicks his tongue and stands from the table, "I suppose. Nothing too greasy dear, the stress of today is already doing a number on my skin. I'll go pick some movies out."

While Yuu was busy in the kitchen, Vil got to work kicking Grim off of his game system. The cat huffed and yowled, but quickly made his way to the kitchen to beg Yuu for a snack. Once Grim was gone, Vil got to work picking from Yuu's horrid movie choices.

Vil could't blame Yuu for not knowing anything when they first met. As the cover story went, before he spoke to them, Yuu was an extremely sheltered child who hadn't been allowed to interact with society. Their social disconnect and blank references to common knowledge only sold the lie. He remembers talking to Crewel, mildly worried of Yuu's home life and what kind of person would raise such a child.

But now he knew them better and didn't need to hold back his distaste for their movie tastes.

What he wasn't expecting was for them to drag him into these terrible movie-viewing sessions. They were at first just painful, having to sit and watch mid-tier actors do mediocre jobs. Sitting quietly as they flubbed lines or the crew barely performed their duties. 

But at their first viewing session, Vil took notice of Yuu's attitude. They were open on their negative opinions of the films, pointing out the same issues Vil found and even some he missed. Before he knew it, it'd become a biweekly event of picking a terrible movie, new or classic, and ripping it apart together. Sure people could call it 'mean', an A-list movie star tearing into indie films. But they were bad films. And he was free to say whatever he wanted in his private time.

He planned on staying the whole day, so he picked more movies than he'd normally allow for a single session. He hummed a song under his breath as he started to set the TV up, a melody he heard Epel mumbling under his breath over and over. The sound of popcorn popping just barely heard from the kitchen. Soon, Grim returned to the couch, making a point to push against him just to be an annoyance, Yuu following behind him with a tray. A bowl of popcorn with a pitcher and two glasses of juice.

They set the tray down on the coffee table, Vil catching a glimpse before they shut the lights off, “Potato! Why would you make this?”

Yuu sits beside him, also shoving their shoulder into his chest in a mock cuddling position, “Shut up, Mexican- I mean- Xochian popcorn is a perfect cheat day snack! Plus I only used like half the mayo and cheese. It’s basically flavorless, just how you like it.”

Vil glares, taking a single kernel before starting the first movie, “How you’ve survived this long on your diet both amazes and infuriates me.”

Neige kept close to the walls of the dorm. There weren’t too many people walking around, almost all of them simply minding their own business. One even waved at him as they passed in the hallway. He had to pat himself on the back, his disguise was working perfectly!

His nervous walk had slowly turned into his normal skip, eyes roaming along the walls at the ornate architecture and glamorous frames of art. In his bliss, he nearly skips past what could only be the dorm’s lounge. A large seating room with multiple couches and duos of armchairs scattered on polished marble floors. Off in the corner sat an ebony grand piano overlooking the orchard of apple trees. He inhales deeply, the scent of apples and vanilla filling his lungs, with another deep breath, he can pick hints of other notes. Pinches of a flower he couldn’t name and some type of earthly produce. Neige wondered if the smell was something Vi had created or if the dorms naturally smelled this refined.

The lounge was empty, giving him the pleasure to walk and explore the place as he pleased. He took his time to inspect the couches, taking a photo now and again and wondering if he could purchase a matching loveseat for his side of his dorm room. Throw pillow in hand, he walks over to a pair of curtains, lifting them just to peek behind them. The silk pillow slips from his hands, stunned as he looks at a peacock-themed throne. Vi’s throne, the one he sat on. Neige bites his lip so hard he feared he would draw blood. Looking behind him and seeing no one, he stepped into the hidden cove where the throne sat, closing the curtains behind him and hiding from stray eyes.

He drops to his knees instantly, folding his arms under his cheek as he rests his head on the seat of the throne. It was so cozy…Smelling of fresh linens and a dash of lilacs. Nuzzling into the fabric, Neige lets his mind wander. The idea of being in the same school, the same dorm as his Vi, getting to kneel at his feet and rest his head on his lap. His nails dug into the cushion, breathing picking up as he imagined Vi petting his hair while he hummed to him.

After getting his fill, he stood up, phone raised to take a picture of the throne. A dozen photos later he was back in the dorm hallway, smiling at the growing album of photos he’d have for his digital dream board. He pauses in front of a series of photos lining the wall. He then realized it was the portraits of past house wardens, each of them hand-painted with a neutral, regal expression. Neige smiles, looking over each beautiful face. This dorm was made for Vi, a place where only the beautiful and talented could be allowed. Not only had his fellow actor been accepted but he had conquered. His steps picked up speed wanting to see if Vi had a portrait at the end of the hall.

No museum could compare to the masterpiece before him. The portrait of a younger Vi stared back at him, sitting at a 3/4th view sitting on a chair with his hands placed on his lap. His hair was pulled back, a simple updo with the ombre ends curled on top of his head. The crown Vil normally wore tastefully askew was placed on him properly, it looked so odd but still so perfectly Vi.

He looks down the hall, making sure a group of students had gone around the corner before he looks to the other side. Seeing the coast was clear, he quickly stepped closer to the portrait, leaning down and pressing his lips to the painting's hands, kissing at the smooth ivory fingers. Before he could stop himself his mouth opened, tongue peaking out to lick a quick strip against the surface. It didn’t have a taste past the hint of bitter, he wondered if Vi’s fingers tasted bitter. It would make sense, Vi worked a lot with potions and natural cosmetics, Neige would deal with the bitter taste if he could kiss Vi’s fingers for real…

"Why are we doing this to ourselves?"

"How does he just forget the name of his sister?"

"Do you hate me? Is that why you've made me a part of this cursed ritual?"

" They haven't spoken for like only a year! How do you just completely forget your sibling like this!? Did they both sustain heavy brain damage!?"

"This is the industry I've dedicated my life to…"

They were only on their second movie, but both Vil and Yuu were ready to bash the TV as a form of self-defense. That or simply weep at how nonsensical the plot was. Vil couldn’t really believe half the movies he had been forced to watch were from the same studios he had worked with. It felt surreal for him to see ex-costars acting in what were possibly the worst films ever conceived. It scared him at times- was that his possible future? Going from box office hits to acting in direct-to-disk spoof movies? 

Though they joked about him being at least better than direct-to-disk, Yuu was firm on stating Vil wouldn’t ever star in a flop. His fanbase was too devout to him not to buy tickets, even if the movie looked bad. With his acting skills alone, he could at least make a flop into a cult classic.

(“I mean look at me. I love watching shitty movies. It’s even better when an A-List celebrity shows up in one. Like, it’s half the fun to figure out why they’re there than following what the plot is.”)

Vil groans at another scene, lying against the couch with his arm resting over his eyes, “By the sevens, they’re related!”

Yuu groans, snatching the bowl of popcorn from Grim, grabbing a handful before offering it to Vil, “This is genuinely annoying. Do you remember what the plot is?”

Sighing, Vil reaches for the pile of Disk boxes, grabbing their current movie before reading the summary. Mid-read he pauses, staring at the back of the box with a blank expression before he tosses it away, grabbing the remote from Yuu’s hands, “We’re starting over.”

Grim groans, having climbed over their laps to place his head firmly back into the popcorn bowl, “Why!? You guys don’t even like these movies!”

“Never thought I’d agree with Grim, but Vil this is painful I want this to end.”

Vil shushes her as he restarts the movie, “No, they’re not siblings; they’re childhood friends.”

“Wait, what?” Yuu looks between Vil and the screen in confusion, “No…We would have caught that! We would have caught that much of a scenario prompt!”

“Well clearly we didn’t, so now we’re restarting the movie with the proper context. Maybe it will actually save the film…”

Yuu groans, sinking into the couch, “This is somehow a new form of torture, I know it is…”

He was going to be arrested one day, he knew it.

Neige rested his back against the closed door, eyes looking around the room with wide excited eyes. Vi’s room. He was inside Vi’s room. He could die right now and do so with bliss.

He couldn’t tell if he was sad by seeing the room was empty, or relieved he wouldn’t be questioned by his idol and holder of affection. He’s not sure what he would do or say in his disguise under Vi’s critical gaze. Neige feared he’d either crumble and spill the truth the second the blond lifted a perfectly shaped brow, or he’d keep his identity hidden and simply tell Vil everything.

That would absolutely get him arrested though.

But Vi wasn’t in his room, no one but Neige was there to stand and exist in the space. Arms moving to hug his body, trying to hold in the happy bubbles of laughter as his eyes roam around the room. Soon he gathers the courage and pushes off the door to explore. Everything was meticulous, a place for everything and everything in its place. The only oddity was the haphazard way the bed was made. His fingers twitched, wanting to properly make and tuck the covers, he could even fluff Vi’s pillows!

Sighing sadly, he decides against it. No need to make Vi worried about someone weird being in his room without his knowledge…

Instead, he walks around, stopping at the vanity, and allowing himself a single spray of a perfume bottle’s bulb. Fingers ghosting over the color-coded lipsticks in their custom-made container, fighting the urge to use one…Vi wouldn’t notice, right? No…No, he couldn’t. Vi cared so much about his makeup, Neige couldn’t mess with something so precious to his idol.

He walks over to the bright red exercise ball, a smile on his face as he entertains the idea of bouncing on it for a few minutes. Instead, his eyes catch a semi-hidden hamper tucked into the corner. Was…oh by the seven. Was that Vi’s dirty clothes hamper?

Neige stood frozen, nails picking at his cuticles and threatening to break the skin (Don’t bleed here, do NOT bleed here). He looks from the corner of his eye, a bead of sweat threatening to slide down his face. The door was closed, he was all alone in the room with no way of telling when Vi would come back. He bites his lip, stepping closer to the basket as a smile breaks across his reddening face. He could…just for a little while…

Before he knew what came over himself, Neige had his head buried in the hamper, inhaling deep with gasping breaths. Hands braced so tightly on the edges he feared he’d actually break the material under his grip. He pulls his head out, tilting it back with a wide smile on his face as he pants, a manic laugh bubbles out of his lips.

Crunch

Neige freezes, eyes dropping back to the hamper in fear he actually snapped something. The sound happens again, from the door-

He nearly falls from how fast he turned, looking to the open door to see a boy with soft purple hair standing there. He had a nonchalant look on his face, one hand inside an oversized black hoodie with the words ‘TRACK’ printed across the front and the other holding a bright red apple with a few bites taken out of it. Blue eyes met blue and Neige had the brains to try to start an apology. Something to gain enough goodwill to explain…what he was doing, “U-um-” Oh sevens, Neige knew this boy. This was one of Vi’s friends from the VDC! He’d tell!

Epel just shakes his head slowly, his hand reaching out of his hoodie to grab the door handle, “Don’t even wanna know... Whatever the two of y’all are doing, just keep the damn door closed.”

And like that, he was gone. The door closed behind him and it was almost possible to imagine he was never even there. Neige let out a heavy sigh and felt his entire body relax, Epel didn’t seem to recognize him. He was also painfully uncaring of seeing who could only be a stranger in his dorm leader’s room huffing his dirty laundry. Well at least he left…the two…

His heart rate picks up again once he realized what Epel had said. He only needed to turn his head in a quarter turn before he saw who else Epel was talking about. There on the bed, like he was always meant to be there, was Rook Hunt. He sat on the messily made bed in a dull purple and grey plaid flannel, dark grey pants with a strap around one thigh, and mud-stained boots. Short locks managed to be pulled into a small, tight ponytail. One hand resting against his propped-up arm and the other holding an arrow delicately, a bow slung over his shoulder. Neige couldn’t even shake, he felt his blood freeze as he looked in bright green eyes.

Rook tilts his head as he taps the arrow against his crossed leg, “Don’t mind me Roi de Neige. You’ve truly been a lovely hunt for me all day~.”

For a split second, Neige let his eyes dart to the closed door then to the window before snapping back to Rook, “I-I was just-!”

“Shhhh.” Rook stands from the bed, walking closer and Neige realizes with terror the strap around his thigh was holding a knife. The blonde leans down to softly tap the tip of the arrow to Neige’s nose, “Run.”

“W-wha-?”

“Run.”

It was dark when Vil woke up, humming at feeling a heavy hand shaking his shoulder lightly. Blinking awake he sees Rook standing over him with a calm smile, his ponytail just barely contained by an elastic band, “Mon roi, It’s getting late. We should get you some dinner and then a proper bed.”

Vil sits up, stretching his arms and looking around the room. Next to him was Yuu, slumped against his side and sleeping peacefully, the bowl of popcorn knocked to the ground with a few kernels on the carpet. He clicked his tongue softly, did he have time to clean that up?

Rook didn’t give him the chance to choose, pulling him from the couch and steadying his still sleepy body easily. Once Vil was stable, Rook moved to place Yuu into a more comfortable position. Vil stifles a yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and resting it over them. He smoothes down their hair, smiling when Rook puts an also sleeping Grim closer to the prefect, both softly cooing seeing the first year instantly grip the cat monster closer.

“Alright, back to the dorm, Rook.”

“Oui!”

Vil barely hisses a ‘shh’ before shoving Rook into the hallway, slipping out after locking the front door behind them. Walking back, Vil huffs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling it free from his ponytail, “So…Did you have a nice day?” He really hoped he didn’t.

“Oui! It was so wonderful. I got to shadow mon Roi de Neige all day! Such a thrilling hunt to remain outside of his eyes until I chose to pounce. It’s why I was so late retrieving you mon Roi”

Son of a- “Great, so happy your day was so fun Rook-”

Vil stumbles, feeling Rook suddenly pressed right against him with an arm wrapping around his waist. A teasing smile on his lips as a hand reaches up to tug at an edge of the yellow hoodie he was wearing.

“It has only become more magnifique seeing you’re fond of my old Savanaclaw hoodie mon chou~. I had always feared you simply threw it out! But to know you kept and made it your own has filled me with such joy!”

“...” Vil sighs, looking away from Rook, ignoring the laugh he lets out, no doubt seeing the soft blush on his cheeks, “It was all I had on short notice…”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 4: Semi-Charmed Life]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, delicious Thanksgiving nomz, ANGST and let me repeat that last one in case you missed it ANGSTTTTTTTTT!!!

Word count: 5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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Here’s the thing about the Ice Fisher: he doesn’t have a type. Ted Bundy liked girls and young women. John Wayne Gacy liked boys and young men. Juan Corona liked farm laborers, Belle Gunness liked suitors who answered the marriage ads she placed in Chicago newspapers, Robert Hansen liked sex workers who he would set loose in the Alaskan wilderness and then hunt down with his Ruger Mini-14. Everyone has their preferences. But not the Ice Fisher.

The first victim was a burly mid-fifties logger and recreational hunter named Josiah Wolfenstein. The second was nineteen-year-old college student Tammy Miller; she was from Sitka and studying psychology, a choice that now strikes you as ironic. The third and most recent victim was Carol Philips: forty-three, Garth Brooks superfan, amateur baker, and beloved soccer mom. They have nothing in common except for their manner of death. They reveal no pattern. They shed no light on who the Ice Fisher is targeting, and conversely who can consider themselves safe. Everyone is a potential victim. And there is no such thing as safe.

In between veterinary appointments, you watch the local news coverage on the grainy tv in the clinic lobby, your arms crossed instinctively over your chest, your face grim.

“You want some bear mace?” Jennifer says, showing you a small black cannister attached to a keychain. “My boyfriend buys a new one for me every time someone gets murdered, so now I have extra.”

You take it tentatively. “Bear mace?”

“Yeah, but it works on people too. It has a 30-foot range. You can spray that Greek guy with it.”

You laugh and clip the bear mace to your purse: a Coach patchwork saddle bag that your parents bought you a few Christmases ago. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chief of Police Eugene Baker, a high school classmate of your parents, is holding a press conference on the television screen. “We believe this killer to be an adult male with considerable physical strength and knowledge of the outdoors. While the first two victims were found in Dredge Lake, Ms. Philips’ remains were recovered from nearby Crystal Lake, complicating the investigation. Police are patrolling the Tongass National Forest, but we simply do not have the manpower to surveille all Juneau-area lakes at all times. We therefore will continue to ask for the public’s cooperation in submitting tips and identifying possible suspects. To this end, we have set up an anonymous 24/7 hotline staffed by volunteers; the phone number is displayed at the bottom of your screen. We advise all Juneau residents to stay vigilant, particularly around strangers, and avoid leaving their homes alone after dark…”

Outside in the violet-and-amber afternoon light, there is the sound of tires slipping on ice. Aegon’s 1985 Chevy Nova drifts sideways into a parking spot; or, rather, into a position improbably straddling three separate parking spots. He and Sunfyre exit the vehicle.

“Oh, great,” Jen grumbles. She hides behind the reception desk so she won’t have to interact with Aegon. She busies herself with cutting pieces of paper into snowflakes, impaling them with paperclips, and arranging them on the miniature Christmas tree that you obtained for the clinic.

“Hey!” Aegon announces merrily as he breezes inside. He is dressed in his light-wash Levis, black Converses, and an oversized pale green sweater with holes in it; the white of the T-shirt he has on underneath shines through the gaps like stars. Overtop he has thrown the black parka you gave him, unzipped and peppered with melting snowflakes. Half of his hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Sunfyre—still wearing his cone of shame—trots along beside him, unleashed.

“Hey,” you return, smiling. “You’re early.”

“We weren’t catching anything, there was an orca pod in the bay this morning and it scared most of the fish off. So we docked the boat after lunch.” His spots the new addition to your purse. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s bear mace. For bears…or serial killers…or you. I haven’t decided which yet. What’s up with your hair?”

“It’s a man bun,” he says, somewhat defensive. “They’re very popular in Southern California.”

“That sounds fictional.”

“I’ll have you know that in the acclaimed feature film Mulan, love interest and all-around badass General Li Shang had a man bun.”

“Literally fictional.”

“Are you going to take the stitches out of my dog’s face or are you just going to mercilessly bully me? I’m very sensitive, you know. As an Aquarius, I hide this beneath a thin veneer of rebellious behavior and inability to commit, but at my heart I am a profoundly fragile man. I’m forever just a few seconds away from disaster. I’m a Christmas ornament in the unsteady hands of a five-year-old high on the jittery, saccharine rush of Kool-Aid.”

“Tropical Punch?”

“Cherry. But knowing you, every cup would have to be a brand new flavor.”

You’re still smiling; you haven’t stopped since he walked in. Aegon smiles back. Jen peeks over the top of the reception desk with wide, curious eyes. Sunfyre whines and scratches at his cone, as if to remind everyone about the true purpose of this visit.

“Bring the beast,” you say, leading Aegon back into the exam room. He scoops up Sunfyre with a grunt and places him on top of the table; the dog’s nails click against the cool, reflective metal surface. You liberate Sunfyre from his cone, then numb his muzzle with lidocaine and remove the stitches one at a time, snipping them with surgical scissors and then pulling them out of the flesh with tweezers. Aegon watches you with his hands in his parka pockets, his expression strangely vacant.

“He’ll have a scar, won’t he?”

“Yes, a small one. But that will just make him more rugged and attractive to all the lady-dogs. Or gentleman-dogs, whatever Sunfyre is into.”

“A scar on his face,” Aegon murmurs, then shakes his pensiveness away. “What should I bring to Thanksgiving?”

“Probably nothing. I think my parents have it covered…the appetizers, the dinner, the desserts…and also, you do not strike me as someone who cooks.”

“Yeah, I eat a lot of Lunchables. But I feel like I should bring something.”

Your eyes flick to his, playful. “Are you worried about making a good first impression?”

Aegon smirks, shrugs, says nothing. Sometimes you make an appearance at Ursa Minor, sometimes you don’t; sometimes you pick up when he calls, sometimes you end up spending hours in his apartment watching the X-Files or Law & Order or 60 Minutes. Other times, you fill your time with work, family, friends, flipping through the tower of travel magazines you have stacked beside your bed. It’s not that you’re ignoring Aegon. It’s that you’re trying to figure out what being with him would be like: what you would gain, what it would cost. He hasn’t tried to touch you since that night under the Northern Lights. You haven’t tried to pry into his many mysteries. But each unanswered question is like a landmine one careless step away from eruption, and they’re filling up that space that stays between you on his threadbare floral couch. At this precise moment, Aegon seems sober, which is highly unusual. There’s something quiet and boyish about him when he’s like this, something almost vulnerable. You can picture him wandering aimlessly through the Foodland, staring at mounds of Idaho potatoes and cans of gooey apple pie filling, having no idea what to do with any of it.

“My mom really likes flowers,” you say. “And obviously she doesn’t get to see them a lot this time of year. So if you want to bring something, bring flowers.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“No rum and Cokes today?” you ask, still removing stitches with sure, deft hands.

“Not yet. But I’m counting the seconds until we’re done here, believe me.”

You recall what he told you as you sat together in Ursa Minor under Christmas lights and strands of shimmering silver tinsel: I don’t do well when I’m sober. You pull out the last stitch and pet Sunfyre’s soft fluffy head. He pants happily, his tail thumping against the table, his trusting dark eyes gazing up at you, tiny starless universes. “Why did you buy the Nova if you’re almost always too drunk to drive it?”

“So I can take Sunfyre up to the woods on nice days. He loves the trails.”

“Um, I don’t think you should be hiking out there alone.”

“Relax. Killers never get the people who deserve it.” Aegon flashes you grin, digs around in his parka pocket, tosses you a gold key that you catch in fumbling, cupped palms. “Here.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a spare. Just in case you ever want to stop by and hang out with my dog. Or, you know. Me.”

You gawk at the key, at Aegon, back to the key. “You’re giving me a…? Why would…? How…?”

“Just so you know it’s an option,” Aegon says. He lifts Sunfyre down from the exam table and leaves like the sun at dusk.

~~~~~~~~~~

You love waking up at home on holiday mornings. There is the noise of clanging pots and pans, the scents of bacon and pancakes and rising Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, the sound of one of your dad’s rock albums spinning on the record player in the living room. Today, his Thanksgiving preparation background music is Third Eye Blind; you bound down the stairs as Semi-Charmed Life drifts through the house. After a swift breakfast—your mom has already set out a plate for you, along with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a Flintstones multivitamin—the real work begins.

The turkey is slathered with butter and herbs and placed in the oven. The neck and giblets are boiled to make stock for gravy, and then you set them aside for Sunfyre. The rolls are baked, the potatoes are mashed, the yams are smothered with brown sugar and marshmallows, the green bean casserole is topped with French’s fried onions, the stuffing is Stove Top out of the box, the cranberry sauce retains the precise shape of the aluminum can it was jiggled out of. Once you and your dad have finished setting the table, you tell him you’re heading out to pick up the mysterious friend who will be joining you for dinner.

“Your friend doesn’t have a car?” your dad asks, not critical or suspicious, merely intrigued. You have been uncharacteristically cagey about this particular friend, and with good reason. You know practically nothing besides what your parents have already surmised: male, probably single, inopportunely sexy.

“No, he does. I just told him that I’d give him a ride.” In case he gets too hammered to drive himself home, which is almost a certainty.

“Okay, ladybug,” your dad says, folding the red cloth napkins into inelegant triangles, his scruffy grey eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever floats your boat.”

When you knock on Aegon’s apartment door, he appears dressed in his most festive attire: a blue Hawaiian shirt, black jeans, combat boots, a gold chain around his neck, his white-blond hair neat and mostly straight. He is holding a bouquet of roses that have been dyed a deep sapphire color, like the ocean, like biting winter cold.

“Wow,” you say. “You look like Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo + Juliet.”

“I hope I get a happier ending.” He calls Sunfyre over. The golden retriever pads into view. He is wearing a meticulously groomed coat of fur and a blue bowtie to match Aegon’s shirt.

“Hey, buddy!” you squeal in delight, squatting down to scratch Sunfyre’s ears and cover his scarred muzzle with quick smacking kisses. “You are going to be so psyched when you see what we have for you. There’s a nice turkey neck…and a heart, and a liver…and a delicious gizzard…and maybe even some nice juicy kidneys…and I’ll slice it up all up for you into easily chewable little bites…”

“Calm down, Appletini,” Aegon says, grabbing his parka. “You wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re the Ice Fisher.”

Back at your parents’ house, your mom and dad dash to the door to meet your enigmatic friend, clamoring like teenage girls at an Enrique Iglesias concert. Aegon beams and shakes their hands, thanking them graciously for the invitation. Your dad shoots you a furtive grin: This friend IS sexy! Sunfyre presents himself for pats and high-pitched coos of adoration.

“I’m Vince, and this is my wife Debbie,” your dad says. “But you can call us Mom and Dad, that’ll make things less confusing. That’s what most of my daughter’s friends do.”

“That is so totally cool of you. I’m Aegon.”

“Aegon?!” your mom blurts out before she can stop herself.

He sighs. “It’s Greek.”

“Oh, how exotic!” she recovers tactfully, then gasps when he hands her the bouquet. “For me?!”

“It’s the absolute least I could do. I hope you like roses. The options at the Foodland were roses, roses, or…let me think…oh yeah, more roses.”

“They’re lovely,” your mom purrs. “And such a unique color!”

“They reminded me of Alaska, all the ocean, and ice, and big open sky…and also Appletini. Because I always give her the blue mug.”

Your parents blink at him, confounded. “…Appletini?” your dad ventures, smiling.

“It’s a long story,” you say, suddenly shy.

“Well, come on in,” your mom courteously deflects. “There are deviled eggs, salmon dip, Ritz crackers, and pigs in a blanket just waiting to be eaten.”

As your mom and dad bang around the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner, you and Aegon assemble your appetizer plates and loiter in the dining room, nibbling and chatting, bathed in the flickering golden light of the woodstove and humming along to the red Third Eye Blind vinyl that is still rotating on the record player like a bloody planet. There are three unopened bottles of wine on the table. Aegon keeps glancing at them, his eyes gleaming and famished.

“Would you like a tour of the house?” you say. “An authentic Alaskan house? Come March you’ll probably never have this opportunity again. You’ll be jet-setting off to some other far-flung destination, probably somewhere warm where they have plentiful Taco Bells and internet.”

“I’m not a fan of the internet,” Aegon replies, piling a Ritz cracker worryingly high with salmon dip. “But Taco Bells are a must. Yes, lead the way, oh wise and prophetic Madame Appletini.”

You show him the kitchen where your parents are laboring (floral wallpaper), the study (more floral wallpaper), the living room (wood paneling), and the backyard (adorned with a salt lick for the friendly neighborhood cow moose). Then you take Aegon upstairs to your bedroom. He ponders the details for a nerve-rackingly long time as he gnaws on slightly-too-crispy pigs in a blanket: your stack of travel magazines, your veterinary books, your dark blue bedding, the photographs taped to your mirror, the plethora of posters tacked to your walls.

Aegon speaks without looking at you, still investigating. “Has Trent ever gotten to enjoy your extensive collection of Ricky Martin posters?”

“Not yet. Preferably not ever.”

Now Aegon turns to you; he is smiling. “I feel so sorry for him.”

“Dinner’s ready, kids!” your dad shouts up the stairs, and you obediently report to the table to eat until you are in agony, which to your understanding is the primary objective of Thanksgiving.

“Drinks?” you mom inquires as she lights the tall red candles. The blue roses are in a vase at the center of the table. “There’s Tang, and Snapple, and water of course, and Pinot Noir. Martha Stewart says that’s the best wine to pair with turkey.”

“Wine, please,” Aegon says. She fills his glass. It vanishes almost immediately.

Aegon is the perfect guest: he samples everything and offers enthusiastic compliments, even when he is clearly horrified (as he is by the green bean casserole): “The turkey is so moist and flavorful!” “The yams are like dessert!” “It’s so fun to poke this cranberry sauce!” “My, what a creative use of cream of mushroom soup!” Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sunfyre feasts on a plate of turkey organs and a few slices of white meat. You have a glass of wine, and so does your dad; your mom has two; you lose count of Aegon’s glasses after four. He becomes increasingly uncoordinated, giggly, fogged like a window. Your parents do not encourage him to drink, but they don’t try to stop him either; they ignore his drunkenness like a ghost that stands in the corner of the room, silent, waiting, set ablaze by firelight.

“Do I detect a British accent?” your dad asks Aegon pleasantly. “So this must be a new experience for you. Did you grow up abroad?”

“I grew up everywhere.” Aegon smirks evasively, swigging his wine. “And yes, my exposure to Thanksgiving is extremely limited. But I like this. I like this a lot. I’m going to have to do it every year, wherever I am. Sunfyre will rebel if I don’t. He’ll call PETA to file a complaint.”

“You do quite a bit of travelling, I gather,” your mom says. She watches Aegon with an intense, mesmerized sort of interest. It’s almost unnerving. It’s like she is searching for something: fingerprints dusted at a crime scene, gold nuggets sifted from a river.

“All over. All the time.”

“What do you do for work?”

“Everything,” Aegon says. “Here I’m salmon trolling. In San Francisco I was a dockworker, in San Diego I was a lifeguard—you don’t want to know how little training it takes to be a custodian of human lives, it’s absolutely horrifying, they’d let a great white shark be a lifeguard if it looked good in red—in Phoenix I did construction, just outside of Denver I got a job working on a cattle ranch. In Dallas I picked cotton. In Portland, Maine I caught lobsters. I’ll try anything once. I just like to keep moving. As long as I can make enough money to have somewhere for me and Sunfyre to sleep at night, I’m happy.”

“You’re just like Jack Dawson in Titanic,” your mom sighs, smiling in a way that brightens her whole face. “All you need is the air in your lungs.”

“You work on the same boat as Heather’s brother Trent, is that right?” your dad asks.

“Oh, Trent!” your mom says. “He’s a hunk. He looks just like a long-haired Matt Damon.”

You squint at her. “Yeah, if Matt Damon did steroids.”

“He’s a nice boy, that Trent,” your dad says. “I mean, he won’t be winning Who Wants To Be A Millionaire anytime soon, but he’s solid.”

Your mom nods in agreement. “Dumb as a rock.”

“He’s a great guy,” Aegon says diplomatically. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless that fly was a salmon.” He laughs overly-loudly, sloshing red wine out of his glass and staining the tablecloth like blood on snow. Your parents pretend not to notice.

After dinner, your mom brings out dessert: one pumpkin pie, one apple pie, one plate full of Tongass Forest Cookies. Aegon samples both pies and gobbles cookies until his Hawaiian shirt is littered with crumbs, washing them down with more wine. Then he gets up to pull on his parka and let Sunfyre outside. Aegon lurches as he moves, clutching walls and counters and the backs of chairs.

“I’ll go with you,” your mom offers before you can. She helps Aegon down the icy porch steps and then plays with Sunfyre in the backyard: chasing him through the snow, throwing sticks for him to fetch, tossing snowballs for him to snap between his jaws. Aegon, wobbly but in good spirits, participates as much as he can. And the way that your mom looks at him…it’s an expression you can’t recall ever seeing on her face before. It is fascination and fondness and grief all tangled up together. The light in her eyes is beautiful; it is also breathtakingly sad.

Your dad taps one of the empty wine bottles. “He’s got a problem, ladybug.”

“I know.”

“You can’t fix that for him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I know,” you say again, your voice a brittle whisper.

Your dad sighs deeply and clasps his hands together, stares out the window, contemplates something heavy and unseen. At last, he speaks. “I’ve loved your mother my whole life. And when she and Jesse got together, I thought it was going to kill me. It wasn’t the fact that she was with another man. It was what he put her through. There were fights, there were bruises, and then there were promises and apologies, past-due bills and handmade birthday cakes, locked doors, open doors, kicked down doors. I couldn’t get her to leave him, and I couldn’t watch it keep happening. I tried everything to get away from your mother. I joined the goddamn Marines to get away from her. Four years in Vietnam and I still couldn’t sweat her out. I came back to Juneau and used my G.I. Bill to go to the University of Alaska, and…I would never admit this to anyone except you, but you need to hear it…I waited for that marriage to fall apart. And it did, but it took Jesse drowning in the Gastineau Channel.” He looks at you with miserable, glistening eyes. “Watching the way your mother suffered with a man like that was hell. Watching you go through the same thing would be unbearable.”

There is silence: a silence as thick and perilous as the ocean. Your dad studies you, searching for understanding, for a rational consensus to be reached. You study the lines in your palms. There is nothing rational about what you’re feeling. Alaska is flush with eligible men who are not temporary, not secretive, not unrepentant alcoholics: pilots, truckers, fishermen, loggers, oil riggers, scientific researchers, park rangers. You don’t want any of them. You’ve never wanted anything the way you want Aegon. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

The back door opens, and your mom and Sunfyre—elated and covered in snow—romp into the house. Your mom is giggling as she grabs a dishtowel from the kitchen and begins to clean the snow from Sunfyre’s fur. “You might want to…uh…retrieve Aegon,” she tells you. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Making snow angels.”

“Oh. Great.” You put on your own parka and head out into the afternoon twilight.

“Hey,” Aegon says from where he’s sprawled on the ground. He’s sweeping his arms and legs back and forth as stars rise in the sky.

“Hey. Are you having fun down there?”

“Yes.” His breath is a cloud in the frigid air. His arms and legs go still. “I love feeling small like this. Nothing matters. Not our pasts, not our accomplishments, not our mistakes. We’re all just bones with memories. We’re all just future space dust.”

“You don’t want to be remembered?”

“God no. What would be worth remembering? I want to be a whisper. I want to be the wind that blows over the ocean.” He cranes his neck to look up at you, thoughtful in that glazed, drunken sort of way. “You can remember me, I guess. I’ll allow that. But only you. No one else.”

“Assuming I outlive you.”

“You will obviously outlive me.” He holds his arms up in the air and you pull him to his feet.

“I think it’s time for you and Sunfyre to go home.”

“Oh no.” His face is filled with abrupt realization. “Do your parents hate me?”

“No, they like you. They like you a lot. They’re just worried about you.” And they’d be a lot more worried if they knew about the track marks on your arms or the fact that you can’t stay in one place longer than six months without being descended upon by maybe-metaphorical ghosts.

Aegon laughs wildly, almost hysterically. He reaches for your shoulder to steady himself and then stops short. He sways in the late-November air, his hair dripping from the snow, his hazy blue eyes all over you. You tuck his ever-errant lock of hair behind his ear. I love him, you think helplessly, like when you know you’re dreaming but can’t wake up. “Worried about me,” he muses without elaborating. “Worried about me.”

Your parents send Aegon home with warm hugs and Tupperware containers full of leftovers, including extra turkey meat for Sunfyre and a truly ludicrous helping of cookies. You drive to Aegon’s apartment building slowly so Sunfyre can stick his head out the back window and bark gleefully at every car you pass. It is dark when you get there, the sunset come and gone, the constellations visible in a rare clear sky: Gemini, Orion, Draco, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor. Your Jeep idles under the lusterless beam of a streetlight.

Aegon asks, a ghost of a smile on his lips: “You want to come upstairs with me?”

“Yes,” you reply. And if you do, you won’t leave until morning. “But not until I’ve talked to you about something first.”

“It’s important,” Aegon says softly, not a question but an observation, reading your face like a weather forecast: chance of sun, chance of storms.

“Yes, it’s important.”

“Okay. Let me take Sunfyre inside and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, he doesn’t even hug you. He reaches out with one hand and dusts his calloused thumbprint across your cheekbone, marveling at you like you’re a radiant horizon, like you’re ancient ruins: cave paintings older than the pyramids, pillars of stones and secrets. Then he gets out of the Jeep and staggers into the apartment building with Sunfyre scampering along beside him. He reappears moments later, his hands buried in the pockets of his parka. You were too anxious to wait in the Jeep; you pace back and forth beneath the dim ochre streetlight. Aegon watches you from several yards away, waiting for you to begin.

“Look,” you say. “I like you.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean, I really like you.”

He smiles like the sun, like the Northern Lights. “So you are applying to be my Juneau girl.”

“Yes. But I need something from you first.”

His blue eyes are calm beneath the streetlight, beneath the starlight. “Name it.”

“I need you to get help.”

Aegon shakes his head, not understanding, his smile slowly dying. His lock of bone-white hair cuts his cheek in half like a scar. “What are you talking about?”

“You can go to rehab. I’ll help you find a program, I’ll take care of Sunfyre while you’re away.”

Everything about him changes, like the phases of the moon: his face darkens, his eyes go steely and sharp, everything you love about him is eclipsed. “I don’t need rehab.”

“Aegon, you obviously need rehab.”

He glares at you with savage distrust, with betrayal.

“I need you to get yourself together,” you plead. “I want to be with you, I want to let myself care about you, but I can’t do that when you’re killing yourself right in front of me.”

“I don’t see how it affects you.”

“It does. It will.”

“I’m a lot better now than I was two years ago.”

“It’s not good enough, Aegon.”

He looks down at his combat boots, then back at you. You barely recognize him. “So I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“It’s what you meant, it’s what this whole fucking conversation is about, right?” he flares. “You not being satisfied with the kind of person I am. You thinking that you get any say at all in who I am. Are you delusional, are you that goddamn narcissistic? Have you staked some claim to me that I’m unaware of? Are you Christopher Columbus here to strip me bare and claim you discovered me?”

“Are you listening to me?! I’m trying to tell you that I l—”

“No, you don’t like me. You like some hypothetical version of me that you’re trying to convince yourself exists.”

You stare at him in heartbroken disbelief. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help.”

“But I thought…if you would just…we could…”

“When the fuck did I ever promise you a future?” Aegon flings like a blade. “When did I ever promise you anything? You think I showed up here to build you some cabin on the side of a mountain, get a desk job, give you Christmases and kids? That’s not me. That’s never going to be me. I’m not yours to use. I’m not a Ricky Martin poster to keep tacked up on your wall. I’m not the impetus to bail you out of your spineless, unfulfilling life.”

“Please stop.” Your throat is burning; there are hot tears slithering from your eyes. The icy wind stings against your face. “Please just stop.”

“I’m not the one who fucked this up,” Aegon hisses. “It was you, it was you, because I told you the truth but you refused to believe it. I’m not yours and I never was and I’m never going to be, so you better get that through your thick fucking skull. I’m not yours.”

“And why would I want someone like you?!” you scream into the darkness. He flinches away like you’ve hit him. His eyes are huge and glassy. “An alcoholic, an addict, a coward who runs away from anything worth living for? I’d rather die than waste my life on you. Wait, my mistake, waste the next four months on you, because then you’ll be fleeing to go terrorize some other girl in some other city. I don’t want you. I can’t wait to forget you.”

“Then go!” Aegon roars over his shoulder as he turns away. “Just fucking go!” He storms off into his apartment building; he disappears like the end of summer, leaving a jet-black endless void.

You retreat back into your Jeep, slam the door, and sit there under the silver-cold moonlight sobbing into empty, trembling hands.

[thisisarcanereverie]

When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 2)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoliers from the second episode (and more to come). Also I did NOT bother editing, so if there are a few mistakes my bad.

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, reader is ready to fight a goddamn child, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

Shit

You take a deep breath in as you, as you and Joel watch the girl with bated breath as Tess sleeps next to you two. Joel tried to get you to sleep as well, but you refused. All the adrenaline from the running and the commotion from before still lingered in you, keeping you awake. Time seemed to go on forever, just watching her, waiting for something to happen. It was like your own brand of hell, maybe one you deserved. You always did hate to see people become infected, so fresh and recent that you’re reminded that they were human once. Even the terrifying creatures that barely looked human at all once were, had families and a past, it’s just that their luck ran out. What’s even worse, is that the fungus itself wasn’t to blame for all of this either, it just evolved to survive, like all things did. It’s just one big evolutionary mess. Before you could delve deeper about it you noticed Joel’s hand trembling. His knuckles still bloody from before, your thoughts suddenly turn to what happened before. How Joel had beaten a man to death, his PTSD took over didn’t hold back. Something you don’t blame him for, he was going to kill a little girl for stabbing him in the leg. But still, it looked like it hurt. 

“Hey,” you said silently, careful not to wake Tess and Ellie, “Joel.” The man turned to you, his brown eyes glancing over at you before returning to the small figure snoring. 

“Yeah,” he replied softly, careful not to wake them too. 

“Let me see it,” You said nodding toward the bloodied hand that rested over the gun, you unzipped your bag before he could say no. 

“I’m fi-” 

“Joel,” you called his name sternly, “stop trying to be macho and let me see your goddamn hand.” he mumbled something under his breath before he shifted the gun to his other hand and let you examine the damage. You scooted closer to him, turning his hand a few different ways, gentle as to not displace something. 

“Can’t be anything more than a hairline,” you said, hairline fractures were common punching injuries to the hand, usually you would treat this with ice or something cold, give him a few pain pills and tell him to lay off it for a while. But you weren’t in the QZ and couldn’t afford to lay off his hand for a while, so you did what you could do. You grab a sterilizing liquid from your bag and rip off a piece of your own shirt as a makeshift bandage. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes I do,” You said as you continued to heal him with what you had. 

“You could let me get my sentence out first before you answer.” He gruffed, you looked at him a moment before a small smile graced itself on your lips. His hair might be peppered with gray and his eyes may be hardened by time, but when he made that face you could still see who he used to be. Tommy’s cool older brother who used to smoke outside of the arcade and would always roll his eyes when you told him that smoking caused cancer. You were too wrapped up in that memory to see his gaze drift over to you, watching as you diligently worked. His hand still felt like shit, the burn of the sterilizing liquid still lingered. If you had looked at him you would’ve seen it, the conflict and desire that he had buried deep within himself ever since you came back into his life. 

If only

But instead he turned his head back to the teen when you were finally done. 

“What were you smiling about?” He asked, curious to know what had been on your mind at that moment. 

“Nothing,” you told him as you put your stuff away. Making sure to close the lid tightly before settling it back into your backpack. “How’s the hand feeling now?”

“Like shit,” He replied, “but thanks for the help Doc.” You both sat in silence for a little longer, the crickets made a nice lullaby in the middle of all the hell going on outside. 

“You should get some rest,” He said, “in a few hours we’re going to have to decide on what to do with her.” The adrenaline was wearing off a bit and you were starting to feel the energy leaving you, but you were bound and determined to stay up with him. 

“Not tired,” you defied as you fought keeping your eyelids open, but pretty soon sleep overcame you as you finally fell into its embrace. 

*************************************************

When you opened your eyes it was daylight, and Joel and Tess were up staring at Ellie who was starting to wake up as well. You went to sit next to Joel when he stopped you, his eyes looking up at you. 

“Stay behind me.” He said, and you complied. Your physical skill left much to be desired, but you were skilled enough to take on a clicker or two if it came down to it. 

Daylight streaked through the hole in the ceiling, where you could see the brunette girl start to stir on her bed of moss. Until she sat up and looked around, eyes settling on you three. 

“Morning,” she greeted, standing up from where she laid. The sudden movement causes Joel to raise his weapon higher, causing Ellie to pause before sitting on the moss again, her eyes carefully eyeing him. 

“Do I look like I’m infected?”

“Show us your arm.” Joel commanded, and without hesitation you saw her pull back the pink sleeve of her jacket to reveal the scar that had formed. You stepped forward, wanting a closer look. Joel went to stop you but you brushed him off, carefully you held the girl's arm in your hand. A finger delicately tracing the healed bite marks. 

Healed bite marks. 

Something dangerous began to bubble in you, call it hope or relief, but you stifled it down and you had too little information to start celebrating. 

“How long ago were you bitten?” You asked, tearing your eyes away from the scar and into her eyes. 

“3 weeks,” she replied, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat before you let go of her and made your way back to Joel and Tess, who sat there with tense shoulders. You were silent for a moment, trying to search for the right words so you wouldn’t sound crazy. But you guess crazy went out the window when half fungus half human zombies started emerging. 

“It’s healed,” you said, “scar tissue has formed and she shows no signs of infection.”

“How is that possible?” Tess asked in disbelief, “that infection scanner glowed red.” 

“It could’ve been a false positive,” you suggested, “I don’t know the finer details of it. But if she’s had this for weeks and hasn’t turned, I’d say there’s a good chance she’s immune somehow.” 

Immune. 

It was such a scary word to say out loud, immunity gave people hope for a vaccine or a cure. You tried to avoid that as much as you could, hope was hell. You all looked at each other a moment before Ellie could be heard in the background. 

“If we’re out in the open city why aren’t we swarmed?” 

“Don’t worry about that.” Joel dismissed. 

“Well I’m gonna.” Ellie replied. You guessed she’s never been outside the FEDRA walls before, you heard some of the teenagers telling ghost stories. Like how some infected can spread spores, or that the entire city is full of infected ready to swarm you as soon as you take a step outside the gate. 

“What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” Tess asked as Joel gently put himself in front of you, still not trusting that Ellie wouldn’t suddenly turn. 

“I’m not infected,” Ellie defended, “She found me after I was bitten. 

“And she didn’t shoot you?”

“Clearly not” 

What was Marlene playing at?

“She locked me up and had her guys test me everyday to see if I was getting sick.” 

“How?” You asked, “how did they test you?”

“I’ve got to pee.” 

“Answer her.” Tess said, her eyes focused on Ellie, who stared at her with the most deadpan expression you’ve ever seen on a 14 year old. 

“They’d made me count to ten and hold out my hand and keep it steady.” She explained, “but you know what I think really impressed them was the fact that I didn’t turn into a fucking monster.” And with that she stood up finally, “Now can I please?” Joel stood up with her, careful to keep you behind him. You see her studying him a bit, something flashed across her eyes before it disappeared. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Much like you he denies any sort of hope, but unlike you he was very good at being pessimistic about things like vaccines and a cure. 

“Fine,” Tess breaks the silence, tossing her an old magazine, “back there you can find a spot.” She points to an open door a few feet away. The brunette walks towards the door, stepping over old shards of glass.  

“There’s nothing going to be bad in here?” Ellie asked. 

“Just you.” 

“Oh, funny.” Ellie replied to Joel before stepping behind the door out of view. All three of you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were keeping in, Joel sat back down and turned to you. 

“What happened to staying behind me?”

“She’s not infected,” you reasoned, “I had to make sure that she was telling the truth.” 

“What if she wasn’t?” Joel’s ash colored eyes narrowing on your figure, “you could’ve been hurt.” 

“I wasn’t,” you assured, “and neither was Tess. But someone had to take a closer look and it might as 

well have been me.”

“Why do you think it might as well have bee-” 

“Enough,” Tess interrupted, shutting you both up. Looking at Joel she spoke, “she’s a big girl and can make her own decisions and she has a point. Among the three of us, she’s the only one with medical knowledge, so it was better if she examined it in the first place.” You were about to send a triumphant smirk Joel's way when you felt her gaze shift to you. “And while you may have had a point Joel did too. You can’t be so reckless.” A moment of silence happens before she speaks again, eyes trained back on Joel who was looking towards the door like he was waiting. “She made it through the fucking night, Joel.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismissed her. “It’s going to happen sooner or later.” he looks at her before turning his gaze to the ground, “Alright? We’re still close to the wall, we sneak her back into the QZ and we find a different way of getting the battery.” 

“This,” Tess emphasized, “is our best shot.” Joel sighs as Tess makes him look at her again, “Someone’s going to notice her arm. They’re going to scan her…and then they’ll kill her.” 

“Well better them, than us,” Joel snapped, “You need to stop talking about this kid like she’s got some kinda life in front of her.” You sigh and rub the bridge of your nose, this was messy and complicated. How in the hell did you manage to find your way in this situation in the first place. 

Oh yeah.

Cause Joel Miller said he fucking needed you. 

Just as you were about to add your own two cents in footsteps could be heard approaching. You all went silent as you watched Ellie emerge from behind the door and toss the magazine at Tess’s feet before sitting down on her bed of moss. 

“Are you hungry?” Tess asked as she opened up the small bag of ration jerky, “you can share some of ours.” 

“Thanks, Marlene sent me with my own,” Ellie thanked as she pulled out something from her bag. The three of you shared the jerky and eyeing the sandwich she had pulled out. You watched as she takes a bite, you were almost certain that it was chicken. 

“Is that chicken?” Tess asked. 

“Yeah,” the brunette confirmed, “Marlene said they got it from smugglers.” An awkward pause fills the air as her dark eyes dart between the three of you, “I’m guessing not you guys.” Suddenly Tess stands up and walks over to Ellie, Joel was quick to stand as well. 

“Why are you so important to Marlene?” Tess asked as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, “and don’t lie or we’ll take you back.” 

“You don’t take me back, you don’t get your battery.” 

“You heard that,” Tess scoffs, “then you must’ve heard that he wants to shoot you.” Ellie’s eyes darted to Joel who kept her gaze as Tess kneels in front of her. “I’m gonna talk to you like an adult, ok?” Tess says gently bringing Ellie’s attention back to her, “Joel, Doc and I aren’t good people. We’re doing this for us, because apparently you’re worth something. But we don’t know what you’re worth, if we don’t know what we have.” You see Tess’s eyes narrow on the 14 year old, “So answer my question,” a moment of tense silence happens before you could see the brunette sigh and cover her face, mumbling something before replying. 

“There’s a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors,” she starts, “they’re working on a cure.” 

“Mm-hm” Joel interrupts, “I’ve heard this before.” Your eyes narrowed on him as he interrupted her, he was starting to really irritate you.

“And whatever happened to me,” Ellie continued, her eyes also narrowing on Joel, “is the key to finding the vaccine.” Joel said at the same time. His eyes narrowed on her in a cynical way, his guard was up. 

“That’s what this is?” he asked, “We’ve heard this a million times, vaccines and miracle cures. None of it works…ever.” 

“Fuck you man I didn’t ask for this.” Ellie snapped, standing up. 

“You and me both.” Joel retorted, turning away from her, Tess got up from her kneeling position to get in between the two. 

“Joel, you need to calm down.” You finally spoke, looking him in the eyes, trying to keep your voice even and not tell him to shut the fuck up instead. 

“This isn’t going to end well Doc.” He warned, grabbing your wrist with his good hand, “we need to go back.” His eyes intensely focused on you, almost begging you to just listen to him for once in your life. But you took a step back. 

“And do what exactly?” you questioned, “You killed a FEDRA soldier last night, or almost did, all of us are outside of the QZ without permission, and if they hadn’t raided our units by now they will soon and guess what they’ll find Joel? They’ll find evidence of smuggling and illegal weapons.” You step closer to him now, hands resting on your hips, “we go back and we will all face the gallows, it doesn’t matter who we are.” 

You were right, and he knew it. His shoulders drop as he pinches the bridge between his eyebrows. 

“Let’s just finish it” Tess says, “it doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t what the Firefly’s say, if they believe that’s what she is…then…we get what we want.” You could see his gaze soften as he looked at Tess, giving a begrudging nod to her before looking at Ellie. Sunlight gave her a deceiving halo, before he shook his head as he looked between you and Tess. 

“If she so much as twitches-” 

You turned to Ellie to see her give a half hearted impression of an infected. All of you gave her a deadpan face. 

“Don’t.” Tess said as she and Joel went to move the piece of debris locking you in here. Ellie stops and

gives an awkward scratch to the back of her neck in embarrassment. Both you and Ellie grab your backpacks, you grab Joel’s as well and hand it to him. 

You squint as daylight invades your eyes, blinding you a moment from the ruins of Boston. The crickets were long gone, only a few screams could be heard from the far distances. Alright, You thought, Here we fucking go. 

[thenerdyfanwriter]

She Likes Cherries

Word Count: 574

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: While working at Scoops Ahoy, Robin notices a certain girl who comes in everyday. As time goes on, Robin develops a crush on you.

Warnings: none

A/N: Please do not repost on to any other site or plagiarize my work.Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist

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

Since starting her job at Scoops Ahoy, Robin knew who the regulars were and what they ordered. She knew the couple that came in every Saturday ordered two vanilla cones with sprinkles. The old guy that came in three times a week always ordered two scoops of chocolate in a bowl, never a cone. And she knew you came in everyday and ordered two scoops of vanilla with extra cherries in a bowl.

Working with Steve had its good and bad times. One good thing is whenever he’s working, he always allows Robin to take your order. He finds it funny that she rambles non stop when cashing you out. He figured out a while ago she does that when she has a crush and uses it to his advantage.

It was a Monday around 4:30 pm. Robin was helping a group of middle schoolers when you walked in. Since Robin was busy and Steve was working, he took your order this time. Robin noticed immediately that Steve was trying to figure out if you liked cherries, bananas, or both.

“So,” Steve said, “ You normally get two scoops of vanilla, right?” He stared at you for a second waiting for your response, but your attention had drifted over to Robin helping the group of kids.

He snapped his fingers in front of you, grabbing your attention. “ Yeah,that's fine.” You responded, not paying attention to what he asked.

He smirked and began scooping the ice cream. “ We currently only have two toppings available at the moment.” He commented as you watched him.” We have bananas and cherries, would you like either?” He was trying to flirt with you to see if you liked him or Robin.

You knew Steve Harrington was a massive flirt with customers. You’ve seen it almost everyday so, when he began flirting with you, you didn’t flirt back. Trying to make him take the hint you didn’t like him that way.

You laughed nervously and said “ Extra cherries on top please.” Steve’s grin broadened.

“Extra cherries on top coming right up.” Steve repeated, making sure Robin heard him say cherries.

Robin was done with the group she was helping and stood back from the counter, since there wasn’t anyone in line. She watched as Steve and you both stepped towards the register.

After you finished paying, Robin saw you talking with Steve. She couldn’t hear what you were saying since it was loud in the shop.

“Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?” You had asked Steve. He handed you an old receipt and a pen. You took them and wrote down your number. 

You folded the receipt and handed it to Steve. “Could you give this to Robin for me please?” You glanced at Robin with a smile, grabbed your ice cream and walked away.

Inside Robin’s head, she was heartbroken because she thought you gave Steve your number. She stood there with a frown as you walked away, almost holding back tears.

Steve walked up to her with the receipt and handed it to her. “ She likes cherries.” He said and walked back to the counter to help a customer.

Robin opened the folded paper and read it.

xxx-xxx-1985  call me sometime i have my own line -y/n

Robin froze when she read what you wrote. A smile slowly grew on her face as she realized Steve was right. You did like cherries.

[laurenairay]

I never thought - P. Grubauer

Summary: Meeting Philipp Grubauer was the last thing Sera expected.

This is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange 2024. I had the joy of writing for @knifeshoeboys – I really hope you like this Philipp Grubauer story, Nicole! I had a lot of fun creating this sweet piece from all of your prompts.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: fluff, slight anxiety, mildly secret romance

Title from On Purpose by Sabrina Carpenter

~

Sera liked her routine. Monday to Friday she worked from 8.30am to 5pm as the receptionist in one of the biggest law firms in Seattle. Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, she went straight to the gym after work, cycling from the office, rotating her workouts between legs, arms, and core. Saturday mornings were back to the gym for a yoga class at 8am, before driving her car to the grocery store on the loop back to her apartment. It was predictable. It was safe. It was boring.

But at least she always knew what to expect.

It was just her luck that she couldn’t control the weather, really. Even more her luck that she’d left her umbrella in her car in stead of putting it in her gym bag – and that she’d parked on the other side of the parking lot. As Sera left the gym after her Saturday yoga class at the beginning of November, the rain was pouring down in sheets, and she knew without a doubt that she would get soaked to the bone, unable to shake the chill for hours. She could only imagine how badly the waves in her dark hair would be tangled after traipsing through this downpour.

But just as she was steeling herself to step out of the gym doors, she heard a groan of disbelief from behind her.

“Oh man, it’s really coming down, isn’t it?”

The light accent – definitely European – caught her attention, and she turned her head to see a tall handsome man smiling wryly at her. As her blue eyes locked with his hazel ones, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, and she couldn’t help herself from smiling back at him.

“Not a great start to the weekend, no,” she mused.

He barked out a laugh, making her stomach flutter with butterflies, even more so when he flashed a grin at her while he rooted in her his own gym bag. After only a breath, the sweetly-smiling man pulled out an umbrella with a triumphant ‘hah!’, making her laugh, earning another grin.

“I was not looking forward to walking all the way across the parking lot in this,” he said, grimacing as he wiggled the umbrella at the deluge outside.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to psych myself up to do that,” she said, grimacing in turn.

“Oh damn, I thought you were waiting for someone,” he admitted, “Did you want to share my umbrella with me?”

That sweet simple gesture, innocent and genuine, set her heart racing like nothing she could ever remember. How could she turn down such a kind offer from a gentleman?

“I’d like that, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said, smiling softly, “It’s not like I’ll take up much room.”

The man just laughed as she waved her hand between them, him clearly towering over her 5ft self.

“I’m Philipp, by the way,” he grinned.

Philipp. It suited him.

“Sera.”

~

Sera had never been one for surprises, or going with the flow. After most of her childhood spent watching her mother – her beloved hippie artist mother – drift along with no real direction, just seeing where the wind took the two of them, Sera had always craved control. Now that she was 30 years old and living on her own, Sera finally had it. True, she had mellowed out over the past few years, not needing everything to be excruciatingly perfect anymore, but that routine had always helped ease her anxieties.

Philipp Grubauer had been the biggest surprise she never knew she needed.

After that fateful meeting at the gym six weeks ago, the two of them having exchanged phone numbers with shy smiles as they stopped by her car, they’d spoke nearly every single day – and not just text messages either. Full-on phone calls, even down to facetiming each other while they each cooked dinner just to spend that low-maintenance time together, their schedules not always allowing face to face time so early on in getting to know each other.

And then there were the dates.

A dinner every week. Several coffee dates telling stories and giggling over lattes. Even a night out at the ballet, Sera never having seen The Nutcracker and Philipp insisting that he took her to enjoy the Christmas magic. She didn’t know where this man had been all her life, but if being single this long meant waiting for him? Well, the wait was definitely worth it.

Philipp was so easygoing, adapting to her obvious anxieties with ease as he went, but not just coasting along. He slotted into her routine perfectly, timings calls and dates around her typical timings and his own hockey schedule – even joining her in the gym for a yoga class, showcasing his extraordinary flexibility – but still encouraging her to try new things. He was funny, sweet, and genuinely interesting, and Sera found herself eagerly anticipating every moment they spent together. There was just one thing though – he had never ventured further than kissing her cheek and holding her hand.

Maybe it was just her anxieties talking. Maybe it was a European thing. Maybe he really was just that much of a gentleman. But if she didn’t say something soon, she felt like she was going to burst. Sera just liked him so much, and she didn’t want to ruin their blossoming relationship by stewing in her own head.

If only she could find the right moment.

Mid-December rolled around before Sera even realised it, her office Christmas party making her realise just how close to the holidays the year had come. Philipp had even woken her up with fresh pastries and coffee from the bakery down the street from her apartment, the two of them making plans for him to come over to hers for the first time for a chilled day, Sera knowing she would most likely have some form of hangover (and she had been right in that fact), but still wanting to see him while he had a free Saturday. She’d even forgone her usual Saturday yoga class, which, if nothing else, told her exactly her fast she was falling for him.

“You are a godsend, Philipp Grubauer,” she groaned, accepting the almond croissant from him with a smile.

He just grinned, sitting down next to her on the sofa in silence. Not only was this the first time that he was at her apartment, it was also the first time that they’d seen each other in loungewear, both in a sweatpants and sweater combination, something that made Sera smile at the direction their relationship was taking. It just felt right.

They talked about her office Christmas party, about his upcoming game in Nashville, about his teammates new babies, about her looking forward to a week’s break between Christmas and the New Year, all while eating their pastries and drinking their coffee. It was easy, and comfortable, and domestic, and yet it still sent electricity running through her veins like nothing ever had. What was it about Philipp that sent her into such a tizzy? Whatever it was though, she liked it. She really liked it.

“There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Philipp said, putting down his plate after a short silence.

“Oh?” Sera asked, putting down her own plate on the coffee table too.

“Would you come to my team christmas party with me?”

She inhaled sharply, lips parting in surprise, and Philipp quickly barrelled onwards with a wince.

“I know we’ve only known each other six weeks, but things have been going really well, right? And…I see a future between us, and normally I wouldn’t bring anyone to meet my teammates and their partners so soon, but…well, not that I’ve brought anyone in the years I’ve been in Seattle, but I would really like you to meet them? It's an informal thing really, at Belly's house, but all the guys will be there. Burky’s mostly house-trained now, and Larss will keep Dunner on a leash, and Yanni’s wife is an absolutely sweetheart, you’ll love her, and…”

“Yes.”

Philipp startled slightly at her interruption, before her simple answer registered, a wide smile spreading across his lips at Sera’s shy smile.

How could she not want to? The very fact that he wanted to bring her into such an important part of his life meant everything, she knew that. And he saw a future for them, just like she did? How could she want anything other than to meet his friends and colleagues?

Well, there was one thing she wanted too.

“You’ll come with me? You’ll meet them?” he asked hopefully, “I’m pretty sure they think I’m making you up at this point, with the amount that I talk about you but haven’t brought you to a game.”

At least he wasn’t keeping her a secret on purpose. That eased her nerves a little.

“I’d love to,” she said, laughing a little at his confession, “On one condition.”

“Of course, anything,” he nodded immediately.

A dangerous promise. But she needed to say something, just as her gut had been nagging her, or she really was going to explode.

“Kiss me?” she blurted, her heart racing.

Oh damn it.

That was not the way she wanted to say that.

What if he thought she was too forward? What if he thought she was being too much?

But Philipp didn’t even answer her with words. His hands reached out to cup her face gently, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in to kiss her as she asked. The moment that his lips touched hers, Sera let out a soft sigh, all but melting into his body, hands clutching at his biceps. His hands felt rough against her cheeks, hockey hands she knew, and the feeling of his beard brushing her skin only added to that. He smelled solely of a woodsy cologne, sharp in her nose and yet comforting all the same, suiting him perfectly. All she could taste was coffee and flaky pastry between their closed lips, her senses completely overwhelmed in the best way.

The moment lasted only seconds before he pulled away, cheeks as flushed as his mouth. She knew her own cheeks were flushed as well with the heat she felt, even more so as all she could think of was wanting more.

“I've been wanting to kiss you for weeks,” he said, voice uncharacteristically rough.

Sera made a noise she’d never heard before, a cross between a sigh and a moan, before she leaned in to kiss him again. How could she not?

[bright-and-burning]

tagged by @landoisokay and @bsaka7 to do my 9 favorite albums (with commentary. i had a lot to say...)

these are all relatively recent because i pick and choose older songs individually more than i listen to them as a single album. like i could pick at least an album’s worth of queen songs, but they’re not all off the same album, ya feel.

in no particular order!! w some explainers below the cut:

dreamland (2020) - glass animals. i almost put how to be a human being but i’ve been listening to that album basically on repeat for the last three weeks so i needed to switch it up. such an experience of an album honestly?? where how to be a human being makes me feel like the main character in an over-saturated murderous movie set in miami, dreamland is like, over-saturated fast car movie set in tokyo (the like. hollywood idea of tokyo, to be clear). forever intertwined with midnight walks through empty cities during covid, driving too fast, the first time i hung out with people after getting to come back to college, neon lights on cinderblock walls and $12 plastic handles of liquor. fundamentally bittersweet as an album imo? but so full of bangers that you forget that it’s . really sad. tokyo drifting with denzel curry was my top song of 2020 and spotify helpfully informed me that i listened to it 30 times on my 19th birthday. lol. the “get loose, streetfighter” with the street fighter sound effect… oh yeah baby that’s art. it’s all so incredibly loud also a song of all time tbh. whole album is floaty and sharp all at once, insane production, the perfect sadness layered underneath, every song building into this brilliant crescendo… perfect album for 2020 eve for like so many reasons, i could wax on about this for AGES so if u want more drop an ask no joke it’ll make my week. still holds up soooo well

lemonade (2016) - beyonce. LOL. this album dropped right around when i was getting cheated on by my gf of. over a year. and then we broke up and i signed the papers to transfer schools the next day without telling anyone. so this album fr got me through uprooting my entire life to start over. (what timing, to get cheated on right as beyonce drops her got-cheated-on album). i knew beyonce belonged on here (too influential musically to me to Not) but i was stumped on what specific album to include (i had 4 on cd in my car in high school, for example, and homecoming: the live album felt like cheating) until i remembered how much play time this one got, and how much i leaned on the album and the visuals then (which. by the way. i bought on itunes bc it wasn’t available for streaming. used precious data bc school wifi wouldn’t let me download it. possibly the last album i bought on itunes??)

save rock and roll (2013) - fall out boy. oh man. 2015 me was on one bc i was a HUGE mcr/fob/atl/p!atd/green day girl but at the Exact same time. a 1d girlie. my shuffle would literally go from mama to up all night. ANYWAYS. was stuck between american beauty/american psycho and save rock and roll, but i think american beauty/american psycho didn’t hold my attention for long and only recently came back on my radar (has some very toxic inspiration won’t lie). the mighty fall ft big sean? life changing. big fan of rappers being dropped into songs that you aren’t expecting them to feature on. “i’m either fuckin or workin so the grind don’t stop” is a work of art. young volcanoes and save rock and roll were legitimately like. the most comforting songs of all time as a sad and lonely 14 year old

when we were friends (2019) - the backseat lovers. starts out so strong and keeps it going. what an album to listen to while absurdly into someone who then starts dating your roommate lol. just like, beautiful stuff. makes me yearn. crazy good to belt out in the car while driving

cleopatra (2016) - the lumineers. feels like home, and being dumb young and in love to me. i’ve been listening to them since ho hey played on our local membership supported radio station when i was . 11?? finally got to see them two summers ago and bawled my eyes out the entire time. this whole album no skips but also like. so overwhelmingly nostalgic and infused with feelings with nowhere to go that i can’t help but want to cry. i learned how to play ophelia on a piano in a basement of a dorm i’ll never see the inside of again lol. patience makes me insane and it’s literally just piano. the lumineers in general make a lot of music that makes me ache for times and places i can’t return to, but this album is pretty peak for it

lungs (deluxe edition) (2009) - florence + the machine. god florence just does not miss does she. dog days are over another local member supported radio station hit. i started listing all the perfect songs off and then had to stop because i was listing the entire track list. floaty and romantic with a heavy edge of morbidity and violence. remember when i said i love when rappers on songs you aren’t expecting? if you listen to anything from this post PLEASE listen to you’ve got the dirtee love ft dizzee rascal from this album. a long ass album that’s good the whole way through, i’ll truly never tire of it

ctrl (2017) - sza. i think SOS might be better and eventually take this slot but i’m trying not to let recency impact this too much. drew barrymore went quintuple platinum in my bedroom in high school. it really was the perfect album for insecure 16 year old me? speaks of growth that listening to this album doesn’t hit me where i live half as much as it used to, that instead of being like damn so real sza to things like . “im sorry im so clingy i dont mean to be a lot... lonely enough to let you treat me like this” im like. damn good song

hozier (expanded edition) (2014) - hozier. take me to church another song that member supported ad-free radio station introduced me to. what a fucking album my GOD. angel of small death and the codeine scene… jackie and wilson was literally like. the love song to me. still is can’t lie. need to be saved and have hands through my hair. every single song has lines that literally make my jaw drop, i feel like i discover something new on every listen through. “free and young and we can feel none of it”… foreigner’s god makes my chest ache. i can’t fucking believe this album is ten years old???

mt joy (2018) - mt joy. another album that reminds me of home; my whole family listened to this for months on end during covid. i’m your wreck is such an opener… “and whatever happens please remember all the laughter” like i’ll cry. my instagram bio is from this song lol. the bit where it shifts into what my family calls shoulder lean mode… anyways. ASTROVAN!!! A SONG ABOUT JESUS SMOKING WEED but like. also an emotional tale of assuring mom how music’ll work out even if they’re broke the whole time. whole album gives me Feelings. this might be the happiest album on this list and it’s. not really that happy. just a very specific kind of like. optimism. we move forward even when we look back. the world fails us but we build it better. idk. like the last song is a break up song, but it’s whole thing is “so if you worry, don’t worry bout me, i always wanted you to see the california coast-line on your own time.” so like yeah, love is burning out, but don’t worry about me. i told u. Feelings.

uhhhh no pressure tagging @mecachrome @freeuselandonorris @monacotrophywife and @oscarpiastriwdc

[veeluvss]

most beautiful birthday girl

for @greencways ! happy birthday ml 🤍

elle x female!reader

It was coming up to that time of year again—your birthday.

You’d never been a fan of your birthday. Years of plans, disappointment, realisation and not to mention the slow, aching loss of youth each new year brought. It was painful for you sometimes, looking back on your childhood and how it was slowly drifting away from you. The princess and pirate parties, the candyfloss and bouncy castles - the children’s laughter echoing through the party; it was just out of your grasp as you stepped into real-life adulthood.

However, this time, you hoped it would be different. In the last year, you’d completed two Ph. D.s and graduated from FBI school - now, you stood in the BAU office after completing your first month as a profiler. The team had been so incredibly welcoming. JJ was like the sister you never had growing up. Garcia was a breath of fresh air every morning as she came in with her bright dress and a large smile. Spencer was so intelligent and kept you on your toes all the time. Elle … well Elle was Elle. Derek made you laugh and Hotch was one of the best bosses you could ask for.

“Good morning youngster,” Derek greeted you as he entered the office. He put his hand on his shoulder as a familiar act of comfort you appreciated in the morning. You smiled at him and he sat down. You went to your own desk and sat yourself down.

Not even half an hour later, you were called into the round table room to review a case. You groaned, not really wanting to be out of town on your birthday. However, you followed the team into the room and took a seat between JJ and Elle. They spoke through the case, easy stuff. A family annihilator, killing parents at point blank range and leaving the children as witnesses, tied up and starved in their living rooms - forcing them to see their parents die out in front of them… yeah, simple stuff.

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, folding his folder and leaving the room. You groaned again.

“What's up Y/N?” Elle asked.

“It’s my birthday on Friday and I was hoping I could just stay at home for it but I have a feeling we won't be back in time for that,” you explained.

“Your birthday? How old will you be?” Spencer asked, following.

“Twenty-two,” you laughed.

“God, I forget you’re so young,” Elle laughed, nudging you as you walked out of the office.

You blushed, maybe too young for Elle.

Friday came around, you were so close to solving the case. You knew who it was, it was just finding him. The team had been working all night to try to. You were so so close.

“We’ve got eyes, he’s just arrived home,” an officer said down the phoen. Morgan put the car into gear and sped off. As soon as you pulled up outside, guns were drawn and you headed into the building.

It didn’t take long to bring him down, he practically surrendered. But that meant, you had a free friday night! A free birthday night!

“So drinks on the birthday girl?” Derek laughed as you all filed into the precinct.

“That’s such a scam, why should I pay for everyones drinks when it’s my birthday?” you laughed. Elle came up behind you then and rested her hands on your shoulders. You felt hot under her touch but you had to admit, it was kind of nice.

“Drinks on me for the birthday girl, alllll night long,” she leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. JJ then came into the office and grabbed your hand.

“Come on! Let’s go get ready to partyyy,” she squealed. You laughed and followed her out of the precinct. “Hotch said we could go early so you have plenty of time to get ready, the rest of the team will catch us at the bars,” she said excitedly, starting up the car.

“Okay,” you smiled. Tonight was going to be a very good night, you knew it.

You and JJ had been at the bar for about half an hour, in your booth, gossiping, before the rest of the team turned up. Derek and Spencer slid in beside JJ and Hotch and Rossi beside you. You couldn’t see Elle, which made you frown.

“Don’t worry baby girl, she’s on her way,” Derek teased obviously noticing your confusion.

You blushed, “I have no idea who you’re on about.” The team laughed before Hotch handed over a little gift bag. You gasped and took it off him, completely surprised.

“What’s this?”

“Just a little something from the team. Your first birthday with us has to be special,” he said - slighhhtly cracking a smile. You took the small box from the bag and gasped. Engraved on the velvet box was a designer jewlery company. This was so much money, you knew already.

“Guys, this is too much,” you shook your head and put down the box.

“Shush and open it already,” JJ smiled.

“It’s too late to take it back now,” Derek teased.

“Well actually, if the colour or fit aren’t correct we did get a 30-day guarantee-” Spencer began.

“Not the time, Reid,” Derek said, smiling at his friends antics and Reid quickly shut up. You laughed a little and slid open the box but before you could open it - you heard the one word you’ve been waiting for all night.

“SHOTS!” Elle announced, reaching the table. “What gys - you gave her her present without me?” she asked. She placed the tray of about 50 shots on the table and you laughed a little.

“It’s okay, I hadn’t opened it yet,” you reassured.

“Scootch out boss, let me sit next to the pretty lady,” Elle ordered. Hotch raised his hands and slid from the booth. Elle slid in next to you and sat a lot closer than Hotch did. You smiled and carried on opening the present. It was a necklace with a beautiful, diamond covered charm hanging from the end. Upon closer inspection, you noticed it was a book and you smiled widely.

“Thank you,” you whispered to the team, running your fingers over it. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek smiled , as if he was the mastermind behind it all but you knew, of course, by the shy smile she was sending you - it was JJ. You leaned over and gave her a hug.

Elle coughed and grabbed the necklace. “Let me put it on you,” she said. You smiled and felt the burn in your stomach. She was jealous. You kissed JJ’s cheek as you sat back up and Elle coughed again, looking over at the shots.

“Shots anyone?”

“I thought you were putting the necklace on me?” You giggled, leaning in to her a little.

“Oh yeah, turn around,” she blushed. You had made Elle blush. You giggled and turned around. JJ, knowing about your crush sent you a large smirk. JJ knew how the night was going to end. ANd you hoped it was going to go the way you wanted.

The shots were gon ein minutes and just as you slammed your last glass on the table, your favourite song came on. Gasping, you pushed Hotch and Elle from the booth so you could get out. Grabbing Elle’s hand, which was remarkably soft, you pulled her towards the dance floor.

Hours had gone by, your feet were starting to hurt and your head was going crazy from the alcohol but you were having the time of your life. Elle hadn’t let you out of her sight, JJ was with you too. Derek had girls all around him and Hotch, Rossi and Spencer watched on with their drinks - keeping the booth warm.

You and Elle went over to the bar as last drinks were called and she stood with her arm protectively around your waist. Her head was on your shoulder in a tired but endearing sort of way and her fingers were tracing patterns on your exposed skin.

“We’ll have two vodka cokes please,” you asked the bartender.

“Put it on my tab,” Elle mumbled from next to you. You looked at her. She hadn’t let you buy one drink for yourself all night. “Shush pretty princess,” Elle mumbled and put her finger on your lips. You giggled and smiled at her drunkenness. “It’s on me.”

Just as you were getting ready to go, elle called you back onto the dance floor. You’d just seen her chatting with JJ and JJ went to the DJ. Confused, you followed Elle and she stood in the middle. Suddenly, your favourite love song came on and you gasped, feeling butterflies escape in your belly.

“What’s going on?” You asked nervously. Elle put her hands around your waist and began to dance with you.

“I have something for you,” she whispered. You blushed. “A present.”

“Elle, you ddin’t need to get me anything,” you whispered back.

“Mhm, I did,” she nodded. You smiled and carried on dancing to the music. Your hips swayed in time to the music and Elle’s hand slid over your waist and your hips. Your arms were around her shoulders and you couldn’t keep your eyes off her. She couldn’t stop staring at you either. As the song began to wind down, the music got slower and the dance floor cleared but your focus on Elle only got larger. She began to lean in slowly. You were unsure at first but then her lips touched yours and the whole world exploded. You kissed her back and it had never felt so perfect in your life.

“A birthday kiss,” Elle mumbled as she pulled away, “for the most beautiful birthday girl.”

[pwettylouis]

18 - Billy Hargrove Version

When no one can see that she’s grown up, y/n goes to the Hawkins high boy, Billy Hargrove, for help.

*You can pretend that y/n is adopted or Hopper had a kid with another woman if you don’t look like Hopper

Billy took a deep drag from his cigarette, leaning against his deep blue Camaro and watching all the kids of Hawkins high waist their breath amongst each other.

“Y’know that shit will kill you, right?” He looked over to see Y/n Hopper, queen of Hawkins and daughter of Sheriff Jim Hopper.

Billy took a deep breath and tapped the end of his cigarette on his car, leaving a circle of ash on the blue paint. “What do you want?”

“I need your help, Billy.” He scoffed and pushed himself off the Camaro.

He snickered for a moment, lip between his teeth. “If you’re just going to waist my time, then I’ll be leaving.” He said as he went to pull the car door open.

“My dad is cop, Hargrove.” Y/n placed her hand over the door handle as she stared at him. “How do think he’ll feel when he finds out you tried to run over a couple of kids. One of them being his own step son?”

When she noticed Billy retract his hand, she pulled away and stood tall.

“Or, that you sneak girls into the public pool after hours? I don’t think that’s what your boss meant by swim lessons.”

She spoke, crossing her arms and smirking with a raised eyebrow. Billy took in a deep breath and clenched his fist.

“What do you want?” He seethed.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She took a deep, shaking breath and shifted the books in her hands.

“And why should I do that for you? Huh?”

“Karen Wheeler ring a bell? Or how about that time you and Steve got in that fight, and your little 12 year old sister had to break it up? I can ruin your whole tough guy imagine, Hargrove.”

Billy looked pissed now, like his head was going to explode. She watched as Billy took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before swinging the driver side door open.

“Get in,” Y/n smiled to herself as she made her way around the car. Billy’s nostrils flared as he pulled out of his parking spot.

He was silent as he sped out of the schools parking lot. The two made it down the road in silence, some rock song playing quietly.

Hargrove was almost half way to the Hoppers cabin before he finally spoke up. “Why do you need me? Why not that Harrington asshole?”

“Because my dad actually likes that Harrington asshole, and having someone he likes isn’t going to work.”

“So what do you want me to do? How do I pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Drive me around, take me on a date, anything that couples would do.” She spoke as Billy turned into the driveway.

Yeah, Billy had taken out many girls in the past, but he didn’t know how a actual relationship worked. And neither did Y/n.

The car was put into park behind Sheriff Hoppers cruiser, Billy sat in silence for a moment before turning to the sheriff’s daughter.

“I’ll pick you up at,” he glanced to his watch. “4:30 tomorrow, we can go to Star Court or something.”

The girl leaned forward in her seat, hand reaching for the door handle as she smiled. “It’s a date, Hargrove, one of many.”

Her eyes drifted to the window at the front of the cabin where her father stood. He’s always on high alert when people pulled in.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hargrove.” She leaned over the center console and placed a kiss on Billy’s slightly stubbled cheek.

Guys you don’t get it i am so obsessed with these types of fics and now i can not get a Steve Harrington, Richie Tozier and more version’s out of my head.

[simp4konig]

okay, a couple questions

1: favourite song?

2: favourite movie/show?

3: idk anything else you want me to know-

Okay 😋😋 saw this immediately but didnt have time in the morjning to respond ☹️ SORRY !!!!

1. I have more than one 🥵

I dont expect you to listen to all of these btw !! 😰😰Dont waste your time if you dont ijow tjem, 😭🙏 :

So yeah, basically I play all these songs^^^ on repeat 💀☠️☠️ Drift Phonk is SO good 💯💯😎even tjo its bass boosted cowbells with some. Percussion 🤓🤓☝️ i think its rlly good lol

Also have some rap/pop songs that are in Polish that im NOT gonna include here bc its not like youll understand a word of whay theure saying 😱😱😱

2. LOVEEEEE "Money Heist/La Casa de Papel " it's made me cry twice🥰💔💔om the fifth episode of the last season because my favourite character died😞

I watch True Crime documentaries and just documentaries abt the internet😇😇 My favs for each category respectively: "Don't F**k With Cats" + "The Most Hated Man on The Internet (i think its called anyeays lmaoo)

Also like watching classic films. Idk, i dont like tje stuff that comes out nowadays 🤕 so any blockbusters from the 80s–10s i LOVE 🤩🤩

3. Random information:

Natural blonde, with GRAY-blue eyes (because my eyesight is bad so the colour in my eyes has faded, 🥲 — so obv. I wear glasses😔its sad bc my eyes were ocrsn blue and now look metallic 🤖)

My handwriting is god-awfulm, like ILLEGIBLE😭😭😭 its sn insult to the paper honestly 💀💀you should see ky school books my notes are so messy ajd sll over the place i feel bad for the teachers that mark my exams/assessments😰

Currently reading the Harry Potter books (up to the fifth film, but i thought i should also read the books to compare😊), and im on the fourth novel — Its so THICK and im svared bc my good friend that's lendijg me these said that the next one is the longest 🤯 i might just kms 🙂🔫

I have a cat figurine collection 😱😱 I visit charity shops with my mum (mostly outvof obligation 😵), but we sometimes get lucky and founf ones out of porcelain, glass/crystal, carved in wood, etc 😽🐈🐈‍⬛😺

You know old ladies that wear flower patterns🌸🌺🌷 and middle-aged moms in their late 30s/40s tjay wear cheetsh /leopard print🐆🐆 ? Well im that but as a Gen z girl with an obsession with camo print LMAO,, I have a camo backpack, cargo camo print pants, camo leggings, camo tshirt, camo hat, even fuckijg csmo pencil case LMAO💀💀💀 I WOULD have had a camo phne case too but there wasnt the one i wanted for ky phone...💔💔So Idk i rock (horribly😵) an army fit so whem i CAN i go out in combat boots, cargoes+belt, black or darkgrey tshirt/turtleneck tucked into my cargos, fingerless gloves etc. 😙✌️✨✨✨

If you would like to leanr more, check out this post !!☺️✨✨(well reblog actuslly hahaha)

Tried to include new informwtion aboit myself here so i didjt repeat anytjing 😇, Hope i didnt bore you😰😰😰