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[samuelsdean]

You Think I'm Delicious?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“i don’t like your new perfume.”

genre: fluff & crack

word count: 1.9k

author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one!

THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.

So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7. 

However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“I don’t like your new perfume.”

Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.

“Excuse me?”

Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.

“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”

Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.

He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.

God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.

“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”

“What?”

“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”

He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.

You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.

“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.

“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”

At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer. 

“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”

However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.

Oh. That’s the problem.

“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”

Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.

Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.

You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.

“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.

No, you wanted Spencer. 

You wanted to be with Spencer.

So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.

“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”

“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”

You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain. 

“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”

“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”

You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”

Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.

“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”

“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”

By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.

“Shut up!”

“I love you too, Spence.”

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse. 

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.  

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair. 

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park. 

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy. 

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?” 

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows. 

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes. 

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it? 

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters. 

“What?! No- I…” 

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow. 

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it. 

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!” 

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!” 

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face. 

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..” 

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.” 

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half. 

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears. 

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

[a2l1y1]

Jealous Ellie.

Summary ➜ : it’s Ellie’s birthday and you go around shopping with your location off. You muted Ellie and avoided her the entire day to not spoil your secret surprise to her until she assumed you were cheating.

WARNINGS ➜ : smut, use of strap, sex, cursing, degrading, praising, a lot of jealousy. ETC.

PS : my grammar isn’t the best but enjoy !! Ignore mistakes or horrible spelling.

It was Ellie’s birthday. Ellie was super attached to you, as in VERY. you loved it but it was also a tiny problem when it came for her birthday or general gift giving. Her birthday was getting closer each day and you had nothing. No clue on what to give her and more since she always followed you everywhere. And then you realized, Ellie had bragged about getting this cologne she always wanted but she never had the time to buy it, that was your ticket. Only problem was, Ellie.

When Ellie felt asleep on one of her naps, you decided that it’ll be the perfect cue to go quickly to the store, so you put on your pants and left to find that perfume. You were gone for hours, and Ellie woke up without your presence near her.

- -

Yes, Ellie had tracked your phone to see where you were - but for her defense, you weren’t replying and she grew angsty and worried. But those feelings immediately changed when she got to your location, only to see you inside a store, talking to a man. She was about to turn around until she saw that man putting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Oh fuck no’. Ellie walked in, jealousy and possessiveness crawling inside her body. She stopped besides you, only to give a cold glare to the man. “Move the fuck off.”, she grunted and the man confused walked away. Ellie’s face turned to you. She didn’t say a word before grabbing your hand and walking to the store restrooms.

She pushed you inside, locked the door before talking. “Trying to get a new best friend, huh? I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to.”, she told you, as she was undoing her belt with one hand. “F-fuck Ellie what are you doing??!” You widened your eyes as you couldn’t understand why was Ellie this harsh. Ellie smirked, her eyes dark with possessiveness. “Oh, baby, don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm just here to remind you who the fuck you belong to,” she growled, her voice dripping with a mixture of dominance. She took a step closer, her body pressed against yours, her hand gripping your jaw tightly. “You think you can just talk to some random guy without my permission? Play nice, sweetheart, or I'll have to teach you a lesson.”

You couldn’t understand what was Ellie yapping about but you were certain you could feel her strap poking you slightly from her jeans. “Babe I wasn’t doing anything wrong I swear”

Ellie let out a dark chuckle, her grip on your jaw tightening slightly. "Oh, babe, you really think I give a fuck about what you were or weren't doing? You're mine, and that means I get to decide what's right and wrong," she said, her voice laced with a mix of smugness and possessiveness. Her fingers trailed down your neck, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "But hey, since you're so eager to prove your innocence, how about you show me just how loyal you really are?"

She pressed herself against you, the unmistakable bulge in her jeans pressing against your thigh. "Get on your knees, baby. Show me just how sorry you are for even thinking about talking to someone else," she commanded, her voice dripping with a heady mix of desire. Your face was entirely flushed. How on earth did you got in such position? Obediently, you got on your knees, embarrassed by whoever got into these bathrooms. “Els.. these bathrooms are public, people can hear us..” you lowly spoke as you tried to grab Ellie’s hand.

Ellie's eyes flickered with a mischievous glint as she looked down at you on your knees. She smirked, her gaze filled with an intoxicating mixture of desire and lust. "Oh, baby, don't you worry about that. Let 'em hear," she replied, her voice low and husky. She ignored your attempt to grab her hand, instead using her free hand to grip your hair firmly, her fingers tangling in the strands.

She tilted her head down, bringing her lips close to your ear, her voice a low growl. "You think I give a fuck about who hears us? I want them to know who you belong to." With that, she slowly unzipped her jeans, the sound of the zipper cutting through the silence of the restroom. Her strap sprang free, thick and hard, and she guided your head towards it, her grip on your hair not allowing any resistance. "Now, darling, show me just how much you want to please me," she commanded, her words filled with a mixture of demand and eagerness. You shut your eyes off immediately, gulping down at the feeling of just being caught. Ellie was always this jealous for the least situation possible but deep down you knew you loved it. “Baby, what if instead of sucking it we can just talk things out…?” You gave her a worried and fake smile, trying to avoid any scenes and specially from old granny’s who loved calling the police.

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she looked down at you, her grip on your hair tightening slightly. "Talk things out? Oh, sweetheart, we've been talking for fucking years and it hasn't done shit. Actions speak louder than words," she scoffed, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and desire. She pressed her cock against your lips, the tip grazing your mouth teasingly. "But hey, if you're so eager to avoid a scene, how about you use that pretty little mouth of yours to keep quiet while I fuck it? We'll save the talking for later, when I'm done with you."

She leaned in closer, her voice a low, seductive whisper. "Or maybe you want everyone to hear you scream, huh? Maybe you want them to know just how much you crave my cock?" Her words were filled with a mocking edge, taunting you with the idea of being caught and exposed.

You couldn’t help but to look up at Ellie’s face. Opening your mouth softly as you couldn’t help but to admire her lustful green eyes, darkened by the dirty thoughts she’d been running with. She knew she could take full possession of you, you’d obey her immediately.

Ellie's lips curled into a smug grin as she met your gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and dominance. She saw the flicker of obedience in your eyes, and it only fueled her own lustful desires. She tightened her grip on your hair, guiding your head forward until her cock was pressed against your waiting lips.

"That's it, baby," she purred, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. "You know exactly who you belong to. Open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me just how much you crave me." With a firm yet gentle push, she slid her strap past your lips, the taste of the thick plastic filling your mouth. Ellie’s eyes stayed locked on your face, relishing in the sight of your obedience and submission.

You were hers, completely, and she was going to make sure you never forgot it. You gagged as tears formed on your eyes. You hated being teased and specially when you would normally become needier for more. You tried to grab Ellie’s jeans a little tighter, begging her to stop.

Ellie’s grip on your hair loosened slightly as she noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. She could sense your need, your desperation, but she also knew the power she held over you. She leaned in closer, her voice filled with a mix of concern and dominance. "Aw, baby, don't cry. You know I can't resist when you beg," she said, her tone a mixture of smugness and affection.

She pulled back, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, but her hand remained firmly on your head, guiding you as she dictated the pace. Ellie’s eyes never left your face, her gaze filled with a mix of lust and adoration. "Tell me, baby, what do you want? Use those pretty little words of yours and tell me exactly how you need it." She wanted to hear your plea, to hear the desperation in your voice as you begged for more.

“please baby… fuck me please.” You begged between stutters, your throat feeling fully weak. You have always been sensitive by Ellie’s touch and movements, you loved and hated that. You couldn’t help but to look at her with pleading doe eyes, needy for her to fuck you whole.

Ellie's lips curled into a wicked grin as she heard your desperate plea. She loved seeing you like this, vulnerable and begging for her touch. She let out a low chuckle, her voice thick with desire. "Oh, baby, you know just how to get what you want," she replied, her tone filled with a mix of smugness and satisfaction.

Without hesitation, Ellie released her grip on your hair and pushed you against the wall of the restroom. She wasted no time in unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, revealing your needy and soaked cunt. Her own desire was evident, her cunt throbbing with anticipation just to fuck you with her strap and feel your walls. She positioned herself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip before pushing in, a low groan escaping her lips. Swearing she could feel it as much as you did.

Ellie’s movements were possessive and intense, her hands gripping your hips tightly as she thrust into you with a hunger that matched your own. She looked into your pleading doe eyes, her voice low and filled with a mix of dominance and affection. "You're mine, baby. Mine to fuck, mine to please. And I'm gonna give you exactly what you need." And just by her words you could already feel yourself reaching your ecstasy. Needing to cum immediately, your loud and pornographic moans filling the restroom as you pleaded; “els els im s’close God I’m gonna cum—”

Ellie's eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and desire as she felt your body tensing, on the edge of orgasm. She could see the desperation in your eyes, the need for release, and she was more than happy to oblige. She continued thrusting into you, her pace quickening as she aimed to push you over the edge.

"Let go, baby," she growled, her voice dripping with arousal. "Cum for me. Show me just how fucking good I make you feel." Ellie’s hand moved to your clit, her fingers rubbing and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing you closer and closer to that sweet release.

And then it happened. Your body shook with pleasure as you moaned out her name, your orgasm crashing over you in wave after wave of ecstasy. Ellie watched, her own pleasure building, as you unraveled beneath her, your moans echoing through the restroom.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of adoration and possessiveness. She continued thrusting into you, riding out your orgasm, until she reached her own release as the strap bumped on her puffy clit. spilling herself through the strap, pushing herself closer just to try and cum inside of you with a low groan.

Ellie leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours, her voice a breathless whisper. "You're mine, baby. Always."

“Fuck els, I’m all yours.” You responded breathlessly.

“You better fucking know you are.” She smirked as she kissed your cheek and helped you pull your pants back in.

“But I’m serious now, please don’t come in scaring people away from me, I just wanted to buy you a birthday present.” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Oh, so that explains why we’re on a cologne part of the store.” Ellie quickly realized.

“Yes you idiot, let’s go home please.” You demanded as she chuckled at the sight of you.

[coeurify]

TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir—uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

<3

taglist: @abbyscherry @sawaagyapong @muthafuckingstargirl @fleshunger @jigsaw-victim @brunettedolls-blog @ellies-tatto @mydiaurie @kittnii @villainousbear @ih8chickentenders @spiral-x @ceraiio @makemescreamel @prettygirlfemme @mourningdovee @a-normal-harry-lover @bejing-blue @elliesprttygirl @feelsoseencantdream @princessofdisaster444 @ellieslittlegf @erin-lxxu @pedrosballsack @jisoonunn @eveshyper @todorokies @lurk1n9 @lucidfairies @bellasfavepansexual @mina-281 @teawithnosugar @mousymaven @onlinelesbo

[weneeya]

HIIIIIIIII omg i love ur writing style so much☹️☹️💗💗 anywssyshahshs hehe can u plspslspsls feed me some msby content (like literally anything msby ☹️) 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM BEGGING U PLZ i love msby so much omg theyre so adorbs 💘💘💘 ILYYYY BAE

acts of love m.list | rules

pairing. msby x reader

characters. hinata, atsumu, sakusa, bokuto

note. OMG ofc I can do that I love msby boys sm they're my sweet boys I'm in love with the four of them!! I have so many ideas for them so never hesitate <3

⎯ Hinata or kissing the tip of your nose

You were asleep in the room you shared with your boyfriend. You never slept better than when he was with you. You were breathing slowly, when you felt a touch against your hair. You slowly opened your eyes, and the first thing they saw was the sweet face of your boyfriend, Shoyo. 

He smiled at you, and you felt his gentle touch against your cheek. You slowly sat in the bed, and you were about to say something when you felt his lips against the tip of your nose. You closed your eyes for a second, before you heard his voice. 

“I made breakfast,” he said, and you looked back at him with a smile on your lips. He was always so sweet with you, and kissing the tip of your nose was probably his favorite thing to do.

⎯ Atsumu or spinning you around

The match had been more intense than even, as they were against the Adlers. Of course, Hinata and Kageyama were always taking this so personally that the others had no other choice but to match their energy. So when the Black Jackals ended up as the winners, they were more than happy. 

You had been watching the match from your special place, your eyes on your boyfriend the whole time. He was impressive, as always, and you couldn’t focus on anyone else. Sadly, it was awful for you to be able to join him at the end because people were going crazy everywhere. 

Atsumu was answering some questions from a journalist with Sakusa, obviously showing off proudly. At least, until he heard your voice from afar. He looked in your direction, and you were waving at him. You just had the time to arrive near him when you felt your feet leaving the ground. In a second, he was spinning you around with this large smile of his. 

He was always like this, happy for his victory but also happy to be able to celebrate it with you. You were his greatest gift.

⎯ Sakusa or noticing any detail about you

You ran out of perfume this morning so you decided to go find a new one in the afternoon. You needed some change but not too dramatical, so it was probably the best idea. It took you some time but the lady from the store helped you find something which matched your energy very well. 

When you met Sakusa later in the afternoon, you didn’t expect him to even notice it. But when he came closer to leave a kiss against your cheek, he stopped here. He took a deeper breath, close to your neck, before standing straight again. He met your gaze, tilting his head to the side. 

“Did you change your perfume?” It caught you off guard, and you blinked a few times before nodding at his words. “You noticed it?” You asked him, and he rolled his eyes, looking away from you. 

“You really think I wouldn’t?” And his reaction made you smile softly. Of course he would notice it. Kiyoomi was always noticing everything about you. Your hair, your clothes ; and even your perfume. He cared so much more than what he was pretending.

⎯ Bokuto or giving you his jacket

You were walking home with your boyfriend, his hand in yours. He was talking about many different things, as always because Bokuto wasn’t a focused man. You felt a shiver down your spine because of the cold, as the wind was slowly pushing your hair back. 

The grip you had on Bokuto’s hand slightly tightened, and he noticed it almost immediately. He looked at you, eyebrows raised ; and it quickly went to his brain. He took off his team jacket to put it on your shoulders, before smiling at you like it was nothing. 

You glanced at Bokuto before hiding a little more in his jacket, a hint of a smile on your lips. You could always count on him to give you his jacket when you were cold. He would never let you stay in the cold without doing anything.

thank you for reading!!

[livviewritess]

♡..I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.. ♡

Dad!daryl.

Summary: Y/Ns family isn't the best, so she finds comfort in the hot headed redneck.

Era: the quarry

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Tw: abuse (mental and physical), alcohol, methamphetamine use (drugs), PTSD, mentions of ADHD. (Let me know if I've missed anything.)

Smashed bottles, shouting and fighting was the norm for Y/N L/N. Its just how It was. She had developed PTSD as a young child, flinching from any sort of loud noise or screaming. And today wasn't any different.

She walked out of the trailer she called 'home'. Although it wasn't much of a home. She lived and breathed in it, but she didn't go there when she wanted comfort or seek warmth. No. Never. She hated it there. It always smelled of Alcohol or weed, and the smell would just never go, no matter how much of her sacred perfume she sprayed.

She only had socks on her feet, and was wearing a pink nightie with bows on it, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail. Tears fell from her tired eyes, dripping down her cheeks and onto the bundle, her baby sister.

Her parents where drunk, so they probably didn't even notice the absence of their 14 year old and 3 month old. That was the norm for the L/N family.

She sat down next to the water, her knees brought up to her chest, leaving just enough space to rest the baby in her lap.

The sound of her tears dripping against the little pit of water in the sound calmed her and the baby. She wondered why, though. The tears that where falling from her pretty eyes where one's made shed by her own parents. The two people in her life that where meant to help her and care for her. She stared at her reflection, brushing a piece of stay hair out of the babies face.

She cuddled her sister, humming her favourite song. She rocked side to side gently, before singing quietly, careful not to wake up anyone near.

"Staring down the barrel of the hot sun.. shining with a sheen of a shotgun.. Carol has a little if we need some.. joa has a ride if you wanna come.."

She carried on singing, tears brimming her eyes again. Faint footsteps carried up the beach, but she was too indulged in singing and keeping the baby asleep to care.

"grocery store list now you get this, I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.."

Footsteps creep up behind her and she jumped, spinning around on her knees. It was the redneck man with the motorbike. Daryl, his name was. She stared up at him, the bundle still in her arms. She was confused about why he was up so late. Until she realised she was too.

"What are ya doin' out here this late, sunshine?" He asked. She stayed quiet, bowing her head for a second, before looking up at him again. "I just.. wanted some space and water." She said, standing up. Daryls eyebrows furrowed with confusion and something else.. empathy.

He could see her tear stained face, the little wet spots on the babies blanket. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He leaned his crossbow and string of squirrel and bird on the rock wall, before holding his arms out. Y/N looked at him confused, then passing him the baby. He rocked her, smiling a little.

"Cute lil' thing, huh? What's her name?" The gruff man said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Oh, Rose," she said, bowing her head once more. "Ya named her, didn't you?.." daryl asked, taking int he girls expression as a yes. He knew her parents where horrible.. just like his. He scanned her face, seeing himself in her. A young, scared, innocent little kid just waiting for their childhood to be destroyed.

"I.. I'm sorry for waking you, Mr Dixon, I'm so sorry.." she apologised, daryl shaking his head in disbelief. How is she apologising for something she didn't do? Ah. She did it often. To her parents.

"Ya didn't wake me, kid. I jus' came back from huntin'. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He said, before letting out a huff, swapping the little on to his other arm carefully before pulling the kid into a side hug. And, she cried. Poured her little heart out. Sobs wracked through her body as daryl swayed, shushing her, and doing anything he could to comfort her.

"C'mon. Let's get Ya to bed. Yer sleepin' in the tent next ta me. The little one can sleep in yer arms. That okay sunshine?" She nods, smiling up at him, picking up his crossbow and squirrels up for him, following him up to his little spot.

"Merle the Madman isn't here.. right?.." She said, making daryl smile. Although he had disappeared thanks to officer friendly, he liked the nickname. "Nah. He's not here. Went missin'." He said, and she let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry Mr Dixon.." daryl layed out the two sleeping bags, patting it, letting her lay down comfortably.

"Nah. S'its alrigh'. Bastard had it comin'." She laughed a little, before taking her sister out of daryls arms, making her comfortable too.

"And sunshine?" Daryl said, turning to her.

"Yes Mr Dixon?"

"From now on, it's Daryl." He said, they both settled, eventually falling asleep, a smile on both their faces.

Early in the morning, y/n woke up with an empty sleeping bag next to her. She yawned, and stretched. She sat up, picking up her little sister. She needed a bottle, but she decided to ask Carol for one instead of going back in that wretched camper trailer.

Her feet padded along the dirt, until she came to an abrupt stop around the camp fire logs. She stared at the sight infront of her, tears involuntarily falling down her face.

Her mother was lying there, a stab wound in her head. She had turned. She probably went outside to the RV to go to the toilet and got attacked. Or overdosed. One of the two.

Her dad was drunkenly screaming, as usual, Rick and Shane trying to calm him down, before his eyes landed on you.

He stomped towards you, and all you could see is flashes of the amount of times he'd hit you, and threatened your life. Your eyes widened as he got closer and closer, bottle ready to hit you.

Until someone hit him.

He fell, flat on the ground, groaning, blood trickling from the side of his head. Daryl had hit him with a nearby pole. She looked at daryl, tears in her eyes.

Daryl pulled her into a tight hug, comforting her and scowling at her dad at the same time. Nobody expected that from a dixon. The hitting thing? Yeah. The comforting a 14 year old infront of a group of atleast 20 people? No. Not at all.

Shane and Rick grabbed the man, hoisting him up, and putting him back in his trailer, slamming the door shut.

"Daryl! That is not how we deal with stuff around here!" Shane shouted, daryl shielding her from everything, but you looked under his arm.

"Maybe if ya lowlifes tried ta take him down 'Fore he started hittin' his own kid, I wouldn't have had ta hit him!" He snapped back at Shane. Shane scowled, shifting his weight onto one of his legs and putting his hands on his hips. "Let me tell you somethin'. Maybe if you pulled your head outta your ass, looked around and read the room you wouldn't have to hit people," he said, adjusting his awful cap.

"Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and stopped thinking with your dick we'd have a stable community we all could live and thrive in." She said. Everyone went dead silent. So did he. And daryl. He just trudged away to go and deal with her dad.

Daryl and Y/N got back to their tent, and liv placed her sister into the makeshift cot. "Daryl?" She asked. "Yes sunshine?"

"Can I call you dad?" She said, staring up at him with those beautiful puppy eyes he just adored.

"Sure thing, Darlin'."

An: I enjoyed writing this. One of my favourite fics so far I think. Thank you for reading <3

Tags:

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”

[eddiesvixen]

Just Like Paradise

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀 (𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆), 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝘄𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗝𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗺 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟵

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟯.𝟳𝗸

the first chapter of Open ‘til Midnight

Friday mornings always start off simple for you. You wake up, get yourself clean and dressed up for work. Maybe have breakfast but if not, you usually pack some snacks to munch on behind the counter or go with Eddie to the diner near the store.

Eddie.

Your friend, best friend even. Since attending elementary school together, to summer concerts to working at Empire for 4 years now, you two are the closest friends. You look after each other, care for each other, dream of each other. Actually that might just be you.

The blaring horn of his van rings your ears as he approaches the curb.

“Sorry i’m late sweetheart.” He grins from the van, leaning over to open the door for you.

You sigh and climb into the passenger seat. “It’s fine. I like smelling like sweat during a long shift,” you remark sarcastically.

He groans and pulls off. “Wasn’t my fault, ozzy’s being a pain in my ass.”

“He scratch up another cd?”

“No, little shit keeps hiding my lanyard. Gonna have to make an entirely new one today.”

You laugh. “Oh, Hop’s gonna kill you. That’s like the third-”

“Third one this month?” He smirks, “He’ll have to catch me first.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re wearing a new perfume. Trying to impress someone?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, even more so teasingly.

“Can’t a girl just smell good?”

“Well yeah but you’re not fooling me. I remember when you wore that new skirt to impress that guy at the garage show in November, so.. spill.”

Damn you, Eddie. Why’s he so observant?

“Is it that blonde guy who buys all the Aerosmith? Because let me tell you, I’ve seen him pull at the doors too many times. They cleary say push.” He smiles.

“Aren’t you the guy who locked himself in the supply closet during a closing shift?”

He frowns, though there isn’t any real sadness behind it. “Sweetheart, that was one time. And how was I supposed to know that the lock was jammed.”

You giggle. “Yeah well don’t forget it tonight. Closing with you and Harrington just sounds like disaster waiting to happen.”

He smirks. “Give the guy some slack.”

“If he spent less time flirting with customers and more time pricing the cds we’d be alright.”

“And you don’t flirt with customers?” His smirk is accompanied by yet another raise of his brows.

“Shut it, Munson. Or I’ll make Hop put you on booth duty.”

Eddie cringes and shakes his head. “You’re so cruel.”

“And very hungry.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the diner. “Well we’ve got a solid 18 before the store opens so.. lets eat.”

~~~~

You’re full and grinning when you walk into the store with Eddie. You find yourself smiling everytime you walk into the store. On your worst days and nights, you’ve never been more grateful to work in a place like Empire, consistently surrounded by things and people you love.

When you walk into the back room you head into the employee restroom. Fixing your hair as you look into the mirror you do a smell check. Yeah.. the perfume is great. There’s no way you’d ever tell Eddie you wore it for his reaction alone.

Just like you wore these true religion jeans for his reaction. Curvy and dark wash, the bootcut flattering your curves. The cropped band tee on your body. You even did your makeup a little differently. A new lip combo you only miss he’d ruin.

You run your hands over your body. Feels good, looks good-

Knock, Knock.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there again.”

The voice is muffled by the door and still very amusing to hear. You open the door.

“Geez Harrington, what ever would I be doing in the restroom?”

His brows raise. “Oh, thought you were Munson.”

You smile, challenging him a bit. “What did you think Eddie was doing?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs but your mind isn’t gonna rest on the matter so he changes the topic quickly. “Listen, Hop said he wants to see you in his office anyways.”

“Me?” You don’t worry. It’s no secret that Jim loves all of his employees, his most reliable being you.

“Yeah. I’ll find Eddie next. Think it’s about our closing shift.”

He follows you as you walk towards Jim’s office. “Cool. I think Eddie just went to make a new ID.”

“Another?!” Steve laughs and shakes his head.

“Says ozzy hid it from him.”

“This guy and his cat. Okay, i’ll go get him.”

You nod and with that give a nice knock before walking into Jim’s office.

“Morning.” You grin.

He greets you by name. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Good. Steve said you needed to see me?”

“Right, your closing shift. Listen, i’m gonna need to leave the store a bit early tonight.”

“Is everything alright?” He usually never leaves. He loves the place just as much as any of you.

“Everything’s fine. But just for tonight, I am leaving you in charge of the store.”

You smile. “Me? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

“You know, Chrissy’s coming in at 2 if you wanna ask her? Or maybe Robin?”

“You shying away from your opportunities?” He raises a brow.

“No! Just, sounds like a big responsibility is all. Plus I kinda stay in the metal section all day.”

“And that’s okay. I’m just telling you work freely today. Wherever you’re needed, just like me. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” You smile. “Won’t let you down.”

~~~~~~

By 1pm, the crowd of customers is chill, but growing per usual. Customers take up the listening booths, others reading vinyl covers and checking out the clearance section. Jonathan’s cleaning the booths, Steve organizes the pop section and doubling on another task, reading an article on the next Duran Duran album. Eddie’s across the store, talking to a customer. Some older guy who’s definitely judging how he’s dressed and he still does it with a smile.

“It’s just totally ridiculous.” Robin says eyeing down your expression.

You turn to face her. “What?”

“Oh nothing just, you know, watching my idiot friends who clearly want a piece of each other do absolutely nothing about it.”

“Robin for the millionth time. Friends. Platonic with a capital P. Those are literally your words.”

“Uh, yeah. Because im a lesbian and Steve’s a nut. That’s platonic. But two people who share beds, share drinks, share underwear-”

Your eyes widen. “Okay that was one time.”

She smiles. “Once during movie night, another after leaving the pool.”

“Okay well movie night I bled through mines so I had no choice. And as for the pool, my clothes were drenched Rob. What was he supposed to do, let me freeze my bare ass off?”

“Fine whatever. That still doesn’t mean you dont wanna bone each other.”

You cringe. “Bone? Please don’t tell me that’s what you and Vickey call it.”

“Well at least someone’s getting some.” She winks. “But seriously, are you not gonna talk to him about this?”

“No, Robin. Look at this place. Look at me and Eddie. That’s my best friend. I don’t need some little feelings getting in the way of that.”

“Getting in the way of what?” Eddie says from behind you.

“Geez Munson are you trying to give us a heart attack?”Robin rolls her eyes.

Eddie laughs. “Excuse me for doing my job.” He tucks some cds under the shelf and holds one behind his back.

“Whatcha got there, rockstar?” You raise a brow.

“Just a little surprise for my favorite metalist.”

Robin teasingly mouths the word favorite before she walks off with a stack of vinyls. You grin and focus back on the cd.

You gasp. “Holy shit.” You take the cd. “Skyscraper?! Where the hell did you even find this?”

The sold out pretty quickly when they hit the shelves. In all honesty who doesn’t love David Lee Roth.

“Under the shelf in the break room. Dropped my ID and he was hiding under the sofa.” He smirks, proud of the smile he caused on your face.

“Wow. Thanks Eddie.” You smile.

“No need for that. But how about we give him a spin for the speakers, give everyone a taste of last year?”

“Deal.”

Eddie pops the cd in, and plays it loud for the intercom of the store. From Knucklebones to Just like Paradise, you smile and dance a bit behind the counter as you scan in your cds. Leaving a small wave to Hopper as he exits the store at 2 and Chrissy walks in. Time for you to leave the counter and become manager.

~~~~~

You grabbed a clipboard and got to checking and making sure things were in place. Vinyls, check. Bathrooms, clean. Customers, attended to. When the clock strikes 5pm you decide to take a break.

In the back room, you sit on the sofa and take off your boots, letting your feet rest on the rug. The soft cotton of your socks nuzzling the scratchy fuzz of the rug beneath your feet. You look around the room. Pics of everyone on the walls. The rolling stones, heavy metal and well.. playboys on the coffee table. The staff lockers decorated for each employee. It’s comforting. A home away from home.

You put on your walkman and rest your eyes as Biff Byford sings.

Lady face the morning sun

the sunlight in your hair

Northern Lady, you’re the one

You’re so relaxed and enjoying the music that you don’t hear the door open. Eddie walks in and sits down a box of damages. He looks at you, enjoying seeing you so relaxed. He walks over and watched you for a bit. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes kiss your skin. He gently nudged your knee with his and you open your eyes, smiling and removing your headphones.

“Hey, everything okay?”

He looks at the tape and gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like someone stabbed him.

“Listening to Saxon without me, sweetheart? I thought you cared about me.” He flops onto the sofa and falls out dramatically over your lap, failing to hide his grin you start to laugh.

“So dramatic!” You try to shove him off but he won’t go.

“I think i’m dying, sweetheart. Tell the others I love them.”

You frown a bit. “No love for me?”

He thinks for a bit rubbing his chin and you giggle and flip him off at the hesitation.

“Screw you.” You grin and shove him and stand, causing his mop of hair to flop onto the sofa with the rest of his body. He’s grateful of the angle he fell at, moving his hair from his eyes to see the sight of you bending over and digging through the box of damages. The way they shape your ass does plenty for him. He’s suddenly a huge fan of true religion.

“Someone stole a Wham cd?” You giggle and shake the empty cd case.

“That’s not even the worst part. Dig deeper and you’ll see that someone actually stole not one, not two, but three Cyndi Laupner tapes.” He stands and walks over to stand next to you.

“Wow. And they think we’re the criminals for listening to a little metal.”

Chrissy’s voice comes through the intercom. “Help needed in aisle 8.”

They always call for you or Eddie to attend to the metal section since you’re the only two who actually knows what a customer means when they ask about Metallica tapes with and without Dave Mustaine.

“I got this one sweetheart. You take this break, okay?”

You nod. “Thanks Eddie, I owe you.”

“No worries.” He grins and walks out.

As you look through the tapes you see one that warms your heart. A beatles tape with a red sticker on it, a pentagram drawn on the sticker.

When Eddie leaves stickers on different tapes, he wants you to hold them for him. And you know exactly why he chose the beatles tape. His mother loved their music. Eddie told you about how she would sing to him and let him dance on her toes. Elizabeth Munson was an angel, and she birthed the most sweetest boy who marks tapes now in her own remembrance.

It makes you think of your parents. How nice things were before your mother started cheating on your father with her coworkers. You remember how she’d tell you to play outside. “Go ride your bike!” That’s what you got told most summers while she’d have company over, only to come back later to hear your father angry and yelling about her infidelity.

“Is this what you want for our daughter?!”

“She wasn’t here!”

“And who was she with? She’s eight years old, she’s not blind!”

“Well i’m tired of your shit!”

“What shit?! My consistent work of two jobs to keep my family out of the street?!”

“You never make love to me anymore!”

For hours, they’d argue. Screaming and fussing. Glass breaking, cursing, your mother threatening to take you from your father, claiming youre both better off without him. When nights got really bad, you snuck out and stayed at Eddie’s.

He’d given you his bed and when you begged him not to leave, you swore you saw him tear up. Eddie never cries in front of anyone, but that night he knew you needed someone. Needed him. And as his mother’s tapes helped him when times were rough, it helped you too.

But all of these friends and lovers

There is no one compares with you

The beatles would sing and Eddie would rub your back as you cried, crying until your body goes slump and you fall asleep. You always swore to take care of each other, and even now looking at the tape, you remember it all and it somehow feels bittersweet. You showed each other what love is

~~~~~~

“Mm… marry Patrick Swayze, kiss George Michael, kill Nikki Sixx.”

You gasp at Chrissy’s obnoxious opinion.

“Are you kidding me? You’d kill Nikki Sixx?” You help her dust off the record player and move to the register together to count the cash from the day’s end.

“Well Patrick’s so hot,” she smiles. “And besises I can’t kill George Michael he’s like the heart of pop, next to Michael Jackson anyways.”

“You blow my mind.” You shake your head and she looks at the guys upstairs, cleaning out the listening booths. And you both zero in on Eddie with his walkman headset on.

“What do you think he’s listening to?” She looks at you.

Eddie’s not headbanging or dancing, which he would usually do if he were listening to metal, which means he isn’t. You have a hunch it’s the beatles tape, but that’s personal. Something Eddie confided in you about. So you shrug.

“Maybe some Journey? Or a Billy Idol tape. I did see him bring one up here earlier.”

She grins, tilting her head as she watches Eddie. “Journey, huh? That doesn’t seem very Eddie.”

You chuckle. “You’d be surprised. He’s got layers, like an onion.. or I guess those burgers he likes so much from Lucky’s. There’s always something unexpected hiding in that mane.”

She snorts at the metaphor and leans against the counter, her gaze drifting back to Eddie. “I wanna ask but then again I don’t. Feels like peeking into his diary.”

“Yeah,” you agree, lowering your voice as if Eddie might hear you. “He’s always so private about his walkman but just blasts his music in his van, it’s so silly.”

She studies you for a second, a slow smile forming across her face. “You know him better than anyone.”

You shrug, pretending not to care as much. You tske much pride in knowing so much about Eddie, but you shove those feelings down to avoid Chrissy causing a scene. “Yeah I guess. We’ve been through a lot together so I can’t help but look out for him.”

“Sure.” She says simply, smirking a bit as she starts to count change from the register. You want to ask her what’s so funny or to knock it off, same as you told Robin earlier.

Before you can respond, Eddie pulls off the headphones and looks down at you both. “What’re you whispering about down there?” he calls, his voice teasing but curious. He removes his headphones and ruffles his hair, not wanting to have a dent.

You smirk and call back, “Your deep, dark secrets. Hope you’re not listening to Careless Whisper up there.”

Eddie flips you off with a grin, and you catch the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks. His smile grows when you and Chrissy flip him off in return.

“I bet you’d love that princess.”

Steve comes up to the register. “Booths are all clean. Did the back room, I think we’re ready for closing.”

“Okay. I um.. I have to stay behind. Jim left me in charge and I’ve gotta count the cash and take it to the bank.”

“Okay.” Steve raises a brow. “You gonna be okay alone?”

“Yeah, i’m fine. It’s late and you’re opening tomorrow you should go.”

He nods and hugs you. Chrissy joins in and Eddie yells from upstairs. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Shut up.” You all say in unison. But you laugh when you hear his sneakers scruff down the stairs and the hug gets tighter as he joins in.

“Assholes. Every single one of you.”

“Dude don’t ruin it.” Steve says as he sighs.

When you all pull back Steve and Chrissy leave. You put on the same David Lee Roth cd from earlier. You start to dance around a bit, thinking you’re alone in the store. But then you hear singing and you turn around to see Eddie pretending to sing with the broom. You laugh.

“Seriously?”

“What you don’t like my moves?” Eddie shakes his hips, his chains on his jeans smacking the pole of the broom.

“Nerd.” You roll your eyes and grin taking the cash back into Jim’s office and Eddie follows.

“Look at assistant manager.” He smirks and sweeps a bit.

As you sit in the chair it does feel amazing. Eddie knows you’d love to be assistant manager here. This store is your everything. His everything.

“He didn’t say that.”

“But it feels like he will. You know you’re his favorite.” Eddie grins.

“Yeah well,” you place the cash into the cash pouch and start writing down the checks in the manager’s journal. “If he does, maybe it won’t be so different. I’d still be on the floor with you guys.

“We know.” He gives you a heart warming grin. “Maybe you wanna grab a bite? I was gonna get a pizza. Don’t have much lying around at home right now.”

You don’t answer him. You can’t. Not when your heart skips a beat, not when you place the cash pouch into the bottom left drawer and see the orange paper lying there. You lift it and read.

“Uh.. you okay?” He stops sweeping and grows concerned for you.

“It’s the store..” You shake your head and Eddie walks around the desk, taking the paper as he sees you biting your lip nervously. He gently grips your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you as he reads. You can his eyebrows sink more and more.

To Jim Hopper,

Empire Records is due to purchase for Nine Thousand Dollars by June 1, 1989. If you fail to meet the deadline, your contract of ownership will expire. I will more than happy to convert the store on behalf of the American Society of Language and Literature. A new environment for educational purposes and more family friendly activities aside from the provocative musical acts it promotes now.

Best of Luck, Larry Bassinger.

“Who the hell is Larry Bassinger?” Eddie squints as he tosses the paper onto the desk.

“I don’t know.” You look at Eddie. “But the first is just 8 days away.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Screw that, he’s full of shit. He can’t buy Empire, this is our store. It’s Jim’s store!”

“Eddie.” You shake your head and stand. “Calm down. We can’t let anyone know we saw this.. not yet.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his hair, his dark curls bouncing as he starts to pace the small office. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down? Some stranger is swooping in to take the one place in this town that doesn’t suck, and we’re just supposed to sit on this?”

You grab his arm, forcing him to stop. “We don’t know anything for sure, okay? This could be a scare tactic or… or even a mistake. But if we start running our mouths everyone else will start panicking too.“

Eddie picks up the paper from the desk again, his eyes scanning it one more time. “Eight days. We don’t have much time.”

“We’ll figure this out okay? But I need you to not lose your mind. Jim trusts us okay? We have to trust him too.”

“We can’t sit by and watch him face this alone either.”

“And we won’t.” You nod and look into Eddie’s eyes. That tinge of fear behind all of his anger. Empire’s home to all of you, and it scares him that he could be losing another important part of himself. It scares you even more, knowing this could hurt Eddie. How badly it’s hurting you. But you know that you have to be strong in the moment, so you take his hand.

“But tonight you rest. Let’s go eat like you said and we will figure this out tomorrow. Okay?”

He nods and relaxes, lacing his fingers with yours. You put the paper back in the drawer and you both close the store, driving off to get dinner. It’s a quiet ride. You can’t help but think about Empire. How your own paradise, your own home, could be going away for good.

It lingers in your mind while you’re eating, when Eddie drops you off, when you shower, when you lie in bed. It takes you ages to fall asleep but you do, in hopes that tomorrow, you’ll be able to figure out some way to save the store.

[rinhaler]

luxe, hear this anon out. rin with a crybaby type of reader who cries when they feel too good. just imagine him unlocking the fact realizing that he gets turned on by their crying when they're sputtering and choking on his cock <33

apologies if im a bit deranged about this

- jellyfish anon

okay I cannot express how sexy this request is. I NEED him in a way that undoes centuries worth of feminism I fear :( also apologies I'm not that best at writing BJs but I hope u like! (slightly inspired by scream vi)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, praise, slut used once, alcohol mention, reader has long hair/hair long enough to do a makeshift ponytail ♡

words: 1.9k

“You shou— talk to ‘im—” your friend slurs, giggling as you help her sit down on your couch. You laugh a little as she falls from your grip and spreads out comfortably on the sofa beneath her. “Look, he’s looking!” she yells a little too loudly and points.

You shush her, carefully moving her hand to her lap before looking to where she had been pointing. Your neighbour had been looking from his window into yours for a little bit, smirking a little when he finally notices you looking back. He’s doing dishes in the sink, and it gives you the idea to get your friend some water.

“He’s been giving you fuck me eyes f-for weeks! Every time I come over he’s always—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t point and make it so obvious, babe.” you laugh, handing a glass full of water to her. “He’s just being friendly. Besides, I’m not really ready to date or anything yet. I’m just having fun hanging out with my bestie.” you tease her, nudging her with your elbow.

She pouts, eyes filling with water before she hugs you. She’s always been an emotional drunk, and soon enough she’s confessing how much she adores you and what a perfect best friend you are.

“Do you have any snacks? Wan’ some chocolate.” she tells you. You shake your head. “Ugh. Ooooh! You should go ask hot guy if he has any!” she suggests, kicking her feet and giggling all the while.

You look elsewhere. In the direction of hot guy. But he’s not at the window anymore. He’s probably in bed, it is pretty late. You hadn’t expected to be getting home after midnight from your cousins wedding given that you aren’t really that close. But bringing your best friend as a plus one extended the time you spent there.

There was an open bar.

“I’ll go to the store. What kind of chocolate do you want?” you ask.

“Surprise me.” she smiles. “Thaaaaank youuuuuu~!” she speaks in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t burn my apartment down while I’m gone.” you warn her, pretending to scowl at her before you laugh at yourself. She nods, eyes fluttering closed as her body sinks further and further into the couch.

You grab your keys and head out of the front door. If you were smart, you would have ordered dessert. There’s no way you should be leaving the safety of your apartment so late and stepping out into the city. But it’s just around the corner, that’s what you’re telling yourself. Nothing bad can happen to you if you just hurry.

As you reach the bottom floor, you recognise the man standing by the mailboxes near the entrance to your apartment building. He hasn’t noticed you, though, and why would he? He’s occupied sifting through the letters in his hands. You take a shallow breath, mentally preparing yourself for the dangers of going outside.

He raises his head as he smells your perfume when you walk by.

You gasp, feeling his hand dig into the flesh of your upper arm before he pulls you closer to him. It’s hard to even figure out what your thoughts are as you feel your back connect with rows of metal mailboxes. And before you can greet him, his lips are on yours.

You smile into the kiss, a hand cups your face as he presses his body a little harder into yours. He smiles back when he hears a soft little moan escape you at the feeling of being trapped against him. A sound from a higher floor frightens you, you turn your head and move away from him.

“Sorry, I thought my friend might be—”

“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and makes you face him. “You’re too ashamed being seen with me?” he smiles a little, teasing you. You smile back, shaking your head in protest.

“No it’s not that!” you tell him. “I better get going, though. She’s drunk and wants some chocolate.”

“You’re not going out on your own.” he speaks. It’s commanding, his voice filled with care and concern and it makes you weak at the knees. “Do you know that you can order snacks?”

“Uh, no, I've never heard of that.” you roll your eyes and speak sarcastically, earning a laugh from him.

“Maybe you should come upstairs with me, and I’ll show you how to do it.” he tells you, approaching you again. Your voice gets trapped in your throat as he looks down at you, and you find yourself nodding before even thinking about your answer. He smiles, though, kissing you deeply at your response. A sweet sort of praise for delivering an answer he’s happy to hear.

He takes your hand, guiding you up to his apartment.

“Done.” he smiles, putting his phone down on the counter. “I ordered pizza and your friend’s chocolate.”

“Perfect, thank you, Rin.” you thank him, “It’ll probably be a while… what shall we do in the meantime?”

“You know…” he starts, closing the gap between you. “I’ve really missed you all day.”

“Yeah? Ah—!” your voice gets caught in your throat as you feel him pick you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he carries you. You’ve missed him, too. You’ve never put a label on whatever this is. But as far as you’re concerned, it’s just fun. It’s easy. And it’s good.

He is good.

He sits on the couch with you straddling him. A little groan leaves his lips as yours stray to kiss down the column of his neck. His hips roll up, the outline of his cock rubs into your wanting core. His eyes are glued to you as your kisses descend his body, and he curses himself for not throwing away his sweater before picking you up.

It doesn’t matter though, not when you’re resting between his knees with your hands pawing at his cock. Your eyes are full, wanton whimpers filling every breath you take as you do all you can to quickly undo his belt.

“Can I give you head, baby?” you ask, helping remove his cock from the confines of his jeans. He nods, eagerly, his fingers stroking your scalp through your hair as encouragement.

You’re salivating when his dick is revealed in all of its perfect glory. Flushed pink and pretty and throbbing with lust. An unyielding desire to feel your mouth around it. You lick at the oozing pearlescent pre gathering at his slit. The moan he emits at the feeling rushes straight to your cunt. Your hand flies under your dress and beneath your sopping panties, Rin’s cheeks fill with a pink tint at the sight. He hadn’t expected you to touch yourself, his ego climbs heights he hadn’t thought possible at your overzealous act.

“Baby, please… please suck my cock.” he begs. You nod, mewling as you sink your mouth entirely onto him. “F-uck. Good girl, such a good girl.” he groans. You feel his hand cup your face, angling your vision so that your watery eyes are focused on him. He sees the pleasure building in you as you stare back at him.

Your little fingers aren’t enough to satiate the burning need pulsating at your core. But seeing Rin’s facial expressions are more than enough to keep you motivated. You want to make him proud. You want to make him cum. You take his cock entirely down your throat, and pride fills your body when he throws his head back.

He looks down at you, and he bites at his lower lip as you suck and choke around his length, tears spilling over your lash line as you take him more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you like this?” he asks, and you nod without hesitation. He thrusts his hips and fucks into your face until you’re choking on him. His hand grips into your hair and forms a makeshift ponytail as he continues to pound into your mouth like you’re his own personal fuck toy. He pulls you away reluctantly, giving you a chance to breathe. Though that isn’t why he did it. He wants to hear how good you feel. He wants to study the tears welling at your eyes. “You’re such a cute slut for me… cryin’ for my cock? Fucking adorable.” he grins.

You sob, unable to stop yourself. You rest your hands on his thighs as you sniffle, allowing him the time to really enjoy how pathetic and desperate you are.

“Love making you feel good…” you speak, shyly. “I—”

You don’t get the chance to speak anymore when he forces you back down on his cock. His eyes are heavy and filled with lust as he carries on rutting his hips into your face. You can’t stop yourself from twirling your fingers through his dark pubes. It’s the only thing keeping you grounded in reality as the feeling of his cock entirely takes over every synapse in your brain.

It’s unrelenting. He can’t stop himself as the tears continue to fall. Fat tears rolling without end down your hollowed cheeks. He batters his length into your drooling mouth, a mixture of spit and pre rolling down your chin and coating his balls as he repeatedly slams himself in and out. His thick length clogs your airways with each thrust. He can’t believe the pretty, lewd noises leaving you as you do your best to take him. The sputtering doesn’t cease, and knowing he’s so big that you can’t help but gag is making him mad with lust.

He holds your head with both of his large hands, keeping you in place as he fucks his length down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, baby. Take it, ‘m cumming.” he warns you, a loud grunt following as ropes of tangy white cream spurt down your throat before you can barely get a taste. You show him your empty mouth, and he kisses your forehead in response. You hear your phone buzz, your head turning to acknowledge the sound. But he pulls you back, lifting you onto his lap before standing up with you in his hold. “I got carried away.” he kisses your lips.

“No it’s okay, I had fun.” you smile, kissing him back.

“You make me fucking crazy. Crying like that, over my cock? You’re so sweet.” he tells you, kissing you again. “Have you always been such a cry baby? I like it, a lot.” he whispers before kissing lovingly along your neck. You roll your eyes, kissing him and giggling against his lips. Before you can answer you hear your phone buzz again,

“Sorry, I should check that.” you tell him. He sets you down and tucks his cock back into his underwear and jeans. You smile when you feel him hug you from behind, kissing him before checking your texts.

Bestie 💖: are u still at the shop? hot boy has a gf :( i can see him getting a blowy through the window Bestie 💖: ugh they look so cute i hate her, i rly thought he liked you!!

Your blood runs cold as you feel the vibration of another text coming through. Rin smiles, tucking his head into your neck to offer a calming kiss while you read your texts together.

Bestie 💖: OH MY GOD YOU BITCH! IT’S YOU! YOU FUCKING BITCH!

You reluctantly look up, and Rin does the same. You see your best friend standing by the window with a shocked expression on her face. She holds her phone up and takes quick picture as you and Rin wave at her through the window. You look down to see a notification from her, the picture is now available for your whole Snapchat group chat to see.

“I gotta remember to close my blinds at night.” he laughs.

© 2023 rinitxshi

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[callmeurbunny]

so u wanna be an “it girl”?

do u wanna be a miumiu esoteric lana del rey lily rose depp angelcore my year of rest and relaxation rococo painting coquette 60s french girl dior east coast chanel sylvia plath it girl? the lifestyle may seem exclusive, allusive, unreachable even (i mean, that’s kinda a major facet of the aesthetic/lifestyle) yet there is hope! regardless of your age, race, gender, health status, socioeconomic status, size, you too can be the it girl of your dreams!!

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

clothing:

the simplistic vintage vibes of the style are actually rather easy to thrift! simple sweaters, skirts, etc. tend to go for super cheap (especially in colder/temperate climate regions)

i’ve gotten some of my best pieces via hand-me-downs. my tiffany and co bracelet that i wear daily was a hand-me-down :)

estate sales are another great avenue for true vintage pieces that are unlike any other

tights of all sorts are great accessories. most pharmacies and general stores in the us and mexico sell women’s tights for super cheap and in a variety of styles. i’ve also found many unopened pairs at thrift stores!

knee socks are a great alternative, altough some may find them too youthful for their personal style. definitely don’t knock ‘em til you try em tho!! this is perfect option for people w/ conditions that require compression socks

beauty products:

the makeup is super simplistic and often a little messy. u don’t need much more than some pharmacy mascara, lip gloss, and brow gel. personal fav for the brows is nyx brow glue!

you don’t need fancy chanel or guerlain perfume to smell like a doll. dollar stores & wholesale stores tend to actually have excellent body sprays/perfumes. a favorite of mine is cancan burlesque by paris hilton, found at 5below.

some perfumes offer body spray versions with the same scent, just a cheaper price. my favorite perfume (pink sugar by aquolina) retails for $18 at walmart, yet you can find the near identical body spray version for just $7!

media:

podcasts on spotify are free & have no ads! one i love is nymphet alumni

many books that are cult classics (ie. the bell jar, lolita, my year of rest and relaxation) can be found in free pdf form online

soundcloud, youtube, spotify, and bandcamp all offer free music (although they have ads)

you can find old dvds or even vhs tapes of older films at the thrift store and newer ones are often available on youtube. there’s always sketchy sites like soap2day but i don’t want anyone to get crazy malware!!

[g0ttal0ve101]

Johnny Headcanons <3

TW: GAH!!!! TEXAS MAN JUMPSCARE!!!!!!!!

Note: had to do it to them 😮‍💨 i decided to do a mix of romantic and random hcs cause i thought it was cutie but I did section them off from each other!! might write about tcm later on so i’ll take requests for it!!!!! @twsted-idiot :3

RANDOM

he definitely had a FUCK ASS haircut growing up. all those boys in that damn house did. NANCY HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS DOING 🗣️💥 she really pulled up with the scissors and said ‘alright sweetie just hold still’ and fucked up his entire life for a hot 10 years. after that no one gets near the hair…

fuck ass teeth lets be soooo real. from the amount of times he’s gotten into fights at the bar or in a street, he definitely lost/chipped a few in his prime teen years. his bottom teeth are also a lil crooked…but it’s cutie on him! our little gummy bear ❤️ (bitch has gums for days it’s ok to admit it!!)

i’ll talk abt a lot of his love languages in the romantic section but let me tell you, he’s good at pulling bitches but has trouble pulling ppl he’s ACTUALLY interested in 🗣️💥

^ what I mean by that is like. if he just wants a good fuck and a bougie dinner, trust he’ll have a bitch under his arm! but if he has someone he genuinely cares about and wants to be with, he’s more reluctant to show interest… if that makes sense.

everyone knows he has a farmer’s tan 😭 tan one second, takes off his shirt, WOAH!!! WHOS THIS WHITE MAN??? IS THAT A FUCKING GHOST??? oh no it’s just johnny’s tatas 😻

^ speaking of wish im a freckle truther so fuck you he has light freckles on his face 😮‍💨

ALCOHOLIC. REAL BAD. say bye bye to his livers 😿……but no seriously he has terrible drinking habits. practically drinks every night smh. and that’s on dealing with unbearable depression 😮‍💨

SMOKES HEAVY TOO. (johnny your lungs��😿)

idk abt yall but I think johnny’s a sweetheart to bubba….his mama taught him better than to boss him around and be an asshole like CERTAIN PEOPLE. although johnny can come off as demanding, i truly think he has the best intentions at heart when he’s interacting with bubba ❤️

kinda homophobic but gay at the same time 😮‍💨 and that’s on that TEXAN TIP ��🇸🦅💥 YEEEEHAW!!!

in my head i think johnny had his own room n stuff in the house up until he confronted nancy. after that and getting his eye fucked up, he wanted to be petty and sleep outside just to bother nancy. at first she didn’t care and thought he’d eventually just come back in but. he. DID NOT. instead he literally cleaned out the entire shack, found a cheap couch from some thrift store, n fucked that shit UP!!!!!! nancy was PISSED!!! 🗣️ “come back in”…..“no” type shit

loves keeping souvenirs of his victims. ESPECIALLY memorable ones. where did he get that belt? simple, really. this cute guy tried to use it as a defense mechanism! johnny strangled him with it shortly after ❤️ oh and this perfume? yeah, he found that in a REAL fighter’s purse. she was cute whenever she screamed 🌹

started driving at like. 10. nancy fucking FLIPPED OUT whenever she caught him riding around in a car as a literal CHILD. (influenced by certain people😒) but even after all her scolding, he never stopped 💀…that’s why he’s a good driver to this day!

this man loooooooooves his hunting. talking abt sum “THATS A BUTTON BUCK 🗣️” bitch no one knows what you’re talking abt be quiet. (I love him passionately)

johnny DESPISES wearing formal clothing. whether it’s some dumb church suit, dress shirt, or WHATEVER, he does NOT FW THAT SHIT ❌ the real ones know johnny walks around his house with just his boxers on…..and that’s on that country shit 🇺🇸🦅💥 (more like CUNTry)

CALLOUSED HANDS TRUTHER 💥 he definitely has some fucked up fingernails too. stained with oil n shit….SOMEONE GET HIM A PEDICURE IMMEDIATELY.

nubbins always instigates him into fighting a family member 💀 (usually sissy or the cook) talking abt sum: “she said you get noooo bitches…hot ones at least lolsies” or “he told me that he thinks you’re the weakest link of the family but yknow…” FALSE ACCUSATIONS!!!! but johnny falls for it every time 😭

ROMANTIC

HATES PHYSICAL AFFECTION AT FIRST!!! I’m telling you this right now he DON’T LIKE IT!!!!! and it’s not even in the cutie ‘aw he’s touched starved’—NO. HE DON’T LIKE IT. that’s not to say his opinion won’t sway a lil depending on the person (🤭) but at first that’s a big no no with him.

^ but once he starts getting comfortable with you, it’s impossible to pry him off. always wanna hug you n kiss you n play with your hair….he’s a lil love bug fr!

terrible at handling verbal affection. like god 😭 when receiving compliments, he kinda just scoffs, says something snarky, n tries to change the subject. keep doing it? he doesn’t know what to do with himself. it eventually becomes a staring contest with him being like ‘quit that rn.’ but let’s be honest, he likes it 😮‍💨

^ in terms of GIVING IT OUT, he’s pretty good at it. words of encouragement come easy to him since he just has to give you a ‘good job’ (maybe even adding a lil pet name if he’s feeling cute) n move on with his life.

^ but complimenting your laugh? your voice? your eyes? your hair? your clothes? he does it in the slickest ways possible. never over the top or on the nose, always subtle and almost unnoticeable.

he shows his affection through gift giving. stolen flowers from sissy’s garden, stolen jewelry from…trespassers, stolen expensive clothes with suspicious gashes through the fabric, severed limbs—LMAO OFC NOT!!!!! but yes he’s very inclined to give you lil gifts here and there.

surprisingly enough, he likes teaching you stuff. whether it be something small like the mechanics of a car or something big like gutting and skinning a corpse, he enjoys being the one who shows you how to do things he knows how to do well. and when he sees that he successfully accomplished his goal of educating you, he’s happier than ever. (this is also a perfect excuse for him to call you a good girl/boy!!!!!! he’s not slick!!!!!)

pet names consist of the TEXAN WAY BABY YEEEEHAW 💥🦅🇺🇸 sweetie/sweetheart, baby/babe, honey/hun, angel face/doll face, y’know how it is. and it’s kinda cute cause throughout your relationship with him, you unlock certain pet names!!

wanna see a magic trick? 🪄 MANIPULATION! johnny is a genius when it comes to manipulating you. and trust me, you will NOT know he’s doing it.

this is really fucked up (bc HE’S fucked up) but he definitely pushes your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship. it’s kinda like a test to see what he can get away with and how you’ll react to him being an asshole. are you gonna cuss him out? are you gonna hit him? cry? run off? he wants to know.

^ and by ‘pushing the boundaries’ I mean degradation n shit. you ask him what’s wrong and he calls you a filthy whore, a mangy slut, a stupid bitch, JUST TO SEE what you’ll do.

^ the way to pass the test is STANDING UP TO HIM. that’s what he WANTS. be an asshole back!! don’t lose your shit, just one-up him. for example, call him a bitch ass momma’s boy!! that’ll have him on his KNEES!!

who said jealous? BECAUSE YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. johnny IS insecure and thinks you’ll leave him, so it’s better if you DON’T talk to anyone he could perceive as a threat. he lays off with family n shit bc he gets it, but if they ain’t related to you? bitch they better know how to fight 😮‍💨

PDA is iffy with him especially around any of the family LMAO….but if he feels threatened by a guy or god forbid JEALOUS, best believe you’ll have an arm around your waist real fast. 🤭

you better like late night drives bc this man ADORES them. whenever he wants to have a sentimental moment with you or treat you real special for a night, best believe you’ll be in his car for a good while. takes you to the PRETTIEST landscapes he knows of and just chills with you.

^ cutie till he tries scaring the shit outta you with some horrific story abt what happened there or sumn. or even…idk…..starts the hypothetical scenario of “y’know I could kill you rn and no one would be able to hear you scream LOL! 😹” johnny…..if you don’t shut the hell up….

if shit is serious, you definitely made a blood oath with him that you’ll stick with him despite everything. basically marriage imo. peak romance right there <3

[subtlycoping]

caregiver robin thoughts 🌺

- she was likely the first one to find out about their regression and was already aware of what it was before it was explained to her. before she directly became a caregiver, she would subtly support the regressor while she noticed them slipping or completely regressed but trying to hide it. like putting a hand on their shoulder while standing near, bringing them little snacks and drinks, if they fell asleep on the couch she tucks them under a blanket.

- once they came to her about their regression, even though she knew of regression before, she sat quietly and let them explain it to her and asked some questions. once their explanation was finished, she asked if they wantedna hug and once they leaned into her she rubbed their back, rocking slowly back and forth. telling them how proud she was of them for being able to tell her and that they were so brave. ‘thank you so much for telling me, i’m here for you now, that was so brave of you’

- the first time they came to her regressed she was extremly nervous but didn’t let it show, she pulled them to her chest and asked what they wanted to do. she softly holds them away and looks at them before grabbing their hand and bringing them to the aquarium.

- she reads to them a lot, story time becoming her favorite time with them. she doesn’t mind reading childish stories to them, even if she rereads the same one over and over again. when her little is tired enough and not really listening to the words she says but, just enjoying the sound of her voice she switches to her own books. reading outloud but censoring out bad parts, even though she knows they aren’t listening.

- robin never called herself any special names or brought it up to her little, wanting it to be their decision completely though she did often think of having a name like that and it makes her happy. so one day when they come up to her like they usually do and says ‘mommy can we snuggle’ she coos. holding in her intense joy at the name, ‘oh yes my sweet baby, did you want to snuggle in mommy’s bed’.

- she can pick them up without her devil fruit with little struggle but, sometimes she does use it to give herself extra arms so she can do multiple things while still holding them or if she is just a little tired than usual.

- she thinks they are the cutest thing ever and she is absolutely weak for cute things. she can basically never say no to them, she buys gifts for them when she leaves the ship, she makes sure to wear her perfume a little extra heavy for them cause she knows they are a fan of her scent.

- if the other crew members didn’t know about their regression, she would not make them tell anyone else but would encourage them to talk to chopper. because even though she is smart and knows a bit about regression, she wants their doctor to know as well incase there is a problem she can’t fix.

- she calls them ‘baby’ a lot of the times but sometimes uses petnames like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’.

- she is a smart mommy who always knows what her little is up to. she knows when they are trying to be sneaky or get away with something and always catches them.

- even though she has a hard time saying no to her little, she does still have rules for them. she wants them to stay safe and comfortable and finds the best way to keep them in the best state they can be is to have rules.

- she doesn’t have punishments for them other than scoldings and breif time outs, she is vehemently against any physical punishment.

- robin likes spoiling her little. when on an island if they walk past a toy store she pulls them in and buys them whatever catches their eye. she helps them with the smallest things. tucking them in tight when they are sleepy, feeding them their snack, carrying them around the ship, etc.

[anavilante]

December Drabble Marathon 21/31: Choosing Gifts

AU: Modern Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.4К

Summary: John and Gale are picking out gifts for each other.

The shopping mall buzzed with holiday excitement. People were frantically searching for gifts for their loved ones, storefronts shimmered with lights, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of cinnamon, pine, and hot chocolate.

John loved it all: the holidays, the crowds of inspired people, and the chance to watch someone making a last-minute choice between a toy for their child or a long-legged angel figurine to decorate their Christmas tree. Navigating through the crowd was as natural to him as breathing. Tall, energetic, and broad-shouldered, he looked like he was built to confidently sail through this living ocean. Sometimes, he even stood on tiptoes to get a bird’s-eye view of the mall and spot the most vibrant or interesting spots.

Gale, however, calm and introverted, would have preferred to stay home. He imagined himself sitting on the couch, legs crossed, with a laptop on his knees, scrolling through online shops in the quiet of the night, a cup of hot chocolate within reach. Every item could be carefully examined, specifications reviewed, and customer reviews read. Most importantly—no crowds.

But John was John. And now he moved confidently ahead, clearly enjoying the atmosphere, while Gale walked a little behind, carefully weaving between people. He looked elegant as always, but small gestures betrayed his irritation—adjusting his scarf or grimacing slightly at someone’s overly loud laughter nearby.

“Bucky, I still think we could’ve just ordered the gifts online,” Gale muttered, adjusting the cuff of his perfectly tailored coat. “It would’ve been so much easier.”

“Easier—sure, but nowhere near as fun,” John replied, turning back to him with a wide grin. “Holiday shopping is a tradition!”

“But we’re buying gifts for each other. We’re not even shopping together!” Gale pointed out, furrowing his brows.

“Well, as I walk you to the mall entrance, I get to put my hand on your back and show everyone what a catch I’ve got,” John shot back, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Gale rolled his eyes, but John noticed the tips of his ears reddening with embarrassment.

“You’re impossible,” Gale muttered.

“Am I? And yet you’re still following me,” John teased with a smirk.

Gale held back a smile, continuing to walk behind him while mentally running through ideas for a gift. He had a few options in mind, but he wanted it to be perfect. After all, no one deserved the best more than John.

────⋆꙳•❅*•*❆ ₊⋆────

John was focused as he searched for a gift for Gale. He knew full well that Gale had refined taste and understood that anything tied to elegance and beauty would be a perfect fit. Gale might not pay attention to many details, but every choice he made was always impeccable.

Walking past a boutique, John suddenly stopped. His gaze fell on a display of luxury perfumes glistening under soft lighting.

“This is it,” he murmured under his breath, feeling something click inside.

He remembered how, many months ago, they had walked through a store together. Gale had paused at the counter of this very brand, his fingers gently tracing a bottle. His concentrated, slightly dreamy expression said more than words ever could. It was a rich scent with woody and floral notes: bergamot, orange, and patchouli—perfect for Gale. Later, Gale had spoken about the cologne for a long time but never bought it, saying, “There are more important things than perfume.” But for John, nothing was more important than Gale.

Inside the store, a helpful consultant assisted John in quickly selecting that exact bottle. As John left the boutique with a small bag in hand, he already imagined Gale’s smile when he saw it.

But as he walked out of the store, John suddenly froze.

“Something’s missing…” he muttered, glancing thoughtfully at the displays around him.

His eyes landed on a neighboring shop, where silk scarves were laid out with such elegant precision that they seemed to invite him in. Among them was one—a delicate shade of blue—that seemed made to highlight Gale’s eyes.

“Perfect,” John said with a smile, confidently stepping inside. His mind was already picturing the scarf neatly placed in a box and later, perhaps, becoming part of something far more intimate.

────⋆꙳•❅*•*❆ ₊⋆────

Meanwhile, Gale was standing at a ticket counter, intently studying the schedule on the screen. Finally, he found what he was looking for: two tickets to John’s favorite team’s game, with seats right by the field. After making the purchase, he looked at the tickets in his hand, feeling a flicker of doubt. For him, someone who couldn’t understand the joy of watching sports even at home, attending a stadium filled with cheering crowds seemed almost torturous.

“Well, I’ll survive one evening of his endless sports commentary,” Gale muttered under his breath.

He sighed, recalling how at home, sitting next to John on the couch, he often felt like the grumpy wife in a sitcom—the kind who worries about a turkey burning in the oven or paying off the mortgage, while her husband excitedly explains game rules, oblivious to her lack of interest. “At the stadium, it’ll be even worse,” he thought. The crowd, the noise, John’s endless talk about team strategy—it was bound to be ten times more embarrassing amidst dozens and hundreds of men for whom sports were more religion than entertainment.

But despite all that, Gale already knew he was ready to endure it for John.

Tucking the tickets into his pocket, he took a deep breath and headed to another shop. He spent some time there picking out something special and eventually walked out, as satisfied as a cat with cream, carrying an additional gift for John. His determination to give John the perfect surprise only grew stronger, no matter the sacrifices he imagined ahead.

────⋆꙳•❅*•*❆ ₊⋆────

After their shopping spree, they met at the entrance of the mall. John stood there, pleased and slightly disheveled, wearing a victorious expression. In his hands were two cups of hot chocolate, one clearly meant for Gale. Gale, on the other hand, looked tired but more relaxed than one might expect.

“Tired?” John asked, handing him one of the cups. It was obvious he had bought it moments before meeting Gale, as if he’d sensed he’d need it.

“A little,” Gale admitted, accepting the warm cup and letting the pleasant aroma of chocolate wrap around him. He buried his nose in the steam rising from the drink and felt the warmth spread through him, chasing away the remnants of shopping-induced stress. Stealing a glance at John, he gave him a soft, grateful look, one he tried not to make too obvious. John, as always, knew what he needed before he even realized it himself.

“See?” John said with a broad grin. “I told you shopping could be fun!”

“Too much fun…” Gale muttered, hiding behind the cup and taking a small sip.

“Hey, don’t relax too much,” John teased, smirking. “Tomorrow we’re picking out gifts for family and friends.”

“Oh no…” Gale groaned, nearly choking on his hot chocolate. “Can’t we order online?”

“Online?” John exclaimed in mock horror. “Are you kidding? How else would I assess Aunt Peggy’s bust size without hugging a mannequin in the store? Online shopping can’t offer that! So, brace yourself, soldier—tomorrow we’re back in the trenches.”

“You’re impossible,” Gale sighed, shaking his head. But his eyes gleamed with a faint smile, quickly hidden behind his knitted scarf.

They stepped into the cold evening air, filled with the scents of pine and winter. And though neither of them knew exactly what awaited the other under the tree, they were both certain the gifts would be something truly special.

────⋆꙳•❅*•*❆ ₊⋆────

They sat on the floor in front of the shimmering Christmas tree, exchanging intrigued glances. The gifts lay nearby, their wrapping glistening under the festive lights.

John, beaming with excitement, was the first to pick up a neatly wrapped box and extend it to Gale.

“Your turn, handsome,” he said with a smile.

Gale raised an eyebrow, looking at the gift with exaggerated surprise.

“Wow, a real present?” Gale exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock amazement. “Not your… uh, dick with a red bow? I must say, I’m impressed.”

John snorted, barely containing his laughter.

“A dick with a bow is reserved for later tonight…” he quipped, his grin widening.

“Bucky…” Gale’s tone carried a warning edge, his frown exaggerated but unmistakable.

“Alright, alright!” John raised his hands in playful surrender. “No dicks with bows, I swear!” He paused, his eyes gleaming mischievously, and added with deliberate slowness, “It’ll be without a bow... later. Now, just open your present already.”

Gale rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile as he took the box. He carefully unwrapped the gift, taking his time, but the anticipation on his face betrayed his excitement.

John always found it endearing how Gale unwrapped presents. He didn’t tear through the paper in a rush to get to the contents; instead, he meticulously untied the ribbons, loosened the knots, and removed the wrapping with the precision of a surgeon, ensuring not a single piece was damaged. Every time, this brought a warm smile to John’s face—Gale, who had grown up in a modest household, appreciated even the smallest details, finding meaning in them beyond their apparent simplicity.

Gale always found a use for the wrapping paper: one piece would line the bottom of a trinket box where he kept stray buttons and small knick-knacks; another might be turned into a bookmark for his favorite book; the brightest piece of wrapping paper would sometimes be taped to the wall above his desk, creating a small, colorful corner that reminded him of the holidays.

John found this incredibly sweet, especially when he stumbled upon familiar scraps of wrapping paper in unexpected places. For instance, once he discovered a fragment of shiny green paper lining the bottom of a kitchen drawer with utensils. Or a piece with golden stars, neatly trimmed and taped to the lid of a tin box where Gale kept pencils. These scattered pieces of bright paper brought them back to the joyful moments of holidays past. It was as if Gale knew how to preserve fragments of warmth and magic, even in the most mundane things.

Over time, John had started unwrapping his own gifts more carefully, inspired by Gale’s attention to detail. Now, he too tried not to rip the paper, setting it aside neatly and reminding himself that even in the simplest things, there could be hidden value.

When Gale finally opened the box, his gaze immediately fell on the familiar bottle inside. He froze, his fingers gently brushing the cap.

“You remembered…” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the cologne he had once dreamed of but never dared to buy.

“Of course I remembered,” John said with a soft smile, proud of his choice. “It suits you perfectly.”

Gale opened his mouth to thank him, but John suddenly hesitated, as though he had something more to say but wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

“Just…” John began, lowering his gaze.

“What?” Gale asked curiously.

John sighed.

“Don’t wear it to bed.”

“Why not?” Gale blinked, his voice tinged with mild surprise.

John lifted his head, his expression slightly shy but utterly sincere.

“Because I love your scent just the way it is. No additives.”

Gale gave a bashful smile before reaching into the box and pulling out the light blue silk scarf. He ran his fingers over the fabric, its softness making his smile widen.

“Bucky… It’s gorgeous,” he said, wrapping it around his neck.

“It perfectly brings out your eyes,” John added, pleased with his choice.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it.”

Now it was Gale’s turn. He pulled a large box wrapped in several layers of bright paper and placed it in front of John.

“Your turn. But be careful—it’s fragile,” he warned, a mischievous glint in his eye.

John eagerly began unwrapping the box. He removed the top layer, expecting to find something grand inside, but instead uncovered a smaller box within.

“What the…” he raised an eyebrow, glancing at Gale.

“Keep going,” Gale said, smiling, trying to hold back laughter.

John opened the smaller box and pulled out a porcelain figurine of a white unicorn with golden hooves and a shimmering golden horn. The figurine was delicate, with large, endearing eyes, and so adorably kitschy that John couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well? What do you think?” Gale asked, barely suppressing his amusement.

“I still think the unicorn’s horn shouldn’t be on its head,” John smirked, turning the figurine in his hands.

Gale snorted and swatted John on the shoulder.

“Pervert! This, for your information, is so you don’t lose your engagement ring!” he said with mock indignation. “Now you can hang it on the horn instead of tossing it somewhere and then turning the house upside down in a panic to find it.”

“You’re thoughtful,” John grinned, examining the figurine. “Fine, I promise I’ll hang the ring on the horn. Just don’t let me forget where I put the figurine.”

Gale sighed but couldn’t hide his smile.

“And that’s not all,” he added. “Look further.”

John paused, his hands rummaging through the seemingly empty box. His brow furrowed slightly as the thought crossed his mind—could this be payback for that time he tied a red bow around his dick as a "gift" for Gale? But then his fingers brushed against something thin and flat.

He pulled out a small envelope carefully tucked into the center of the box. Opening it, John found two tickets inside. His eyes widened as he stared at them, almost in disbelief. Slowly, he raised his gaze to Gale, who sat across from him with a soft smile and a trace of nervousness in his expression.

“Are you serious?” John finally breathed, his voice tinged with excitement. “You’re coming with me?”

“Yes,” Gale confirmed with a small shrug. “I’ll endure all those strikes, home runs, batters, fastballs, and innings for one evening.”

John set the tickets aside, and without saying a word, pulled Gale into a tight hug. He knew how much it must have taken for Gale to decide on this, and he understood that this wasn’t just a gesture. It was about love, acceptance, and a willingness to do the impossible for each other.

“Thank you,” was all John managed to say as he held Gale even closer.

Gale smiled, feeling perfectly happy in John’s arms.

[kittycaitvi]

Fantastic [CaitVi]

Vi works at her sisters Cafe called "Timebomb Cafe". She goes out with her friends Mel and Maddie on Thanksgiving as they don't celebrate and had nothing better to do. She meets Vi, and it goes from there.

This is multi chaptered but I figured I'd post chapter one today. Also posted on AO3!

It was a cold, rainy morning on November 28th, 2024. Vi was working Thanksgiving at her sister's cafe. Not out of force, just for fun. It was a holiday that Vi and Powder chose not to celebrate due to the sad passing of their father. It was his favorite holiday. Although there was an exception of a possible friendgiving involving her sisters boyfriend, Ekko, but that was rare as he was cooped up in his office accompanied by his awfully short professor with a long name she couldn’t remember. The streets were empty with the occasional couple sharing laughs and carrying shopping bags. Vi was tough and independent, or so she thought. She was well known in her local boxing scene for being the toughest out of anybody, yet outside of the ring she felt profoundly lonely and weak. She wanted what those random couples on the street had and wanted it badly.

The store was just as empty as the streets with the exception of an older male with a damaged eye that was testing in the middle of what Vi assumes to be a burn scar. He was sat near a window, fingers clacking away on a small laptop. He looked straight out of a movie, a villain of sorts, but she knows that’s a silly thought. Vi had a terrible habit of people watching and making up stories about the people around her. “Probably just a finance bro.” she mutters to herself, laughing softly at her own joke. 

That’s when she hears the soft jingle of the door opening that signals a new customer. She looks up and notices a tall and slim woman with hair such a deep blue her icy eyes could blind you with their brightness, they sat on eye bags that curved her skin beautifully. She was something people write about. She was so amazed at her she couldn’t even notice the two other women beside her, one ginger that resembled that of a bunny and the other being yet another woman with gorgeous dark locs styled in a bun with gold loc rings that complimented her complexion. 

Her friends sit down at the table but she only sets her black purse down, waltzing to the register where Vi was standing nervously pretending to do some work by fidgeting with the empty coffee machine. She feels the blue haired woman in front of her immediately without even having to look up, her presence was something you only come by once in a lifetime. It was suffocating, concussive even and the scent of the nameless woman’s vanilla bourbon perfume made her head spin. 

“Hello, welcome to the Timebomb Cafe! What can I get you?” She tries her best to sound like a normal person but her voice comes out a bit awkward and shaky, in sharp contrast to the strong personality she puts on to literally anyone else but the unnamed woman smiled upon hearing her speak instead of laughing nervously to ease the awkwardness. “I’ll have a black coffee, and those two will have caramel macchiatos.” she said it with an almost flirty tone, but Vi chalked it up to her imagining things. She asks if that’s everything and the woman nods. 

They hold a stare for a bit too long before Vi decides to speak, “That’ll be $7.50. Oh, and a name for the order?” After she finishes her sentence she hears her younger sister laughing behind her and she can only assume it was because you only ask for a name with to-go orders. She knows exactly what she’s up to, but Vi doesn’t care. “Wow, that's awfully cheap. I was expecting to pay more. You’re not giving me a discount, are you?” she says with a playful wink that makes Vi’s heart want to jump out of her chest. 

After a short pause she remembers she forgot to say her name, “…And the name is Caitlyn. With a C.” Vi nods and thinks of what to say while she taps at the digital screen. “Of course not, but maybe I could some other time. Nice hair by the way.” she slips the flirtatiousness in as smoothly as she can as to reciprocate her energy. Caitlyn seems shocked by her returning the sentiment. It makes her cheeks flush, a red gradient on her porcelain skin. 

A pause was exchanged while Caitlyn figured out what to say and she couldn’t help to admire her face. Who wouldn’t? Vi was beautiful. She stares at her name tag now that reads; ‘Timebomb Cafe: Vi’. “Well thank you uhhh…. Vi. Cute name, is it short for Violet?” she stutters over her words for the first time in years and she knows exactly why, embarrassingly so this woman intrigued her and she needed to know everything about her. She almost forgets to hand Vi her card to which she scrambles to get it out of her pocket, shyly handing it to the black and red haired woman.

“Yeah… I usually go by Vi for whatever reason but you can call me whatever you like best.” she answers as she takes the card from Caitlyn and for a few seconds their hands touch. “I’ll bring your drinks in a second so feel free to sit down, Cait.” she smiles as she taps on the screen some more. Caitlyn looks at her almost mesmerized as she gets handed the receipt for the order and her card. She says a quiet thank you as she walks back to her friends, stuffing her card and receipt in her wallet in a rush. 

“Wow, that took a long time, Cait!” Maddie complains. Maddie was a very ‘clingy’ friend. It was weird and everyone noticed it, but Caitlyn tried to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she was like that with everyone. She wasn’t. Mel bumps Maddie on her shoulder gently at her comment with a giggle, “It wasn’t thaaaat long…. But I did notice you talking to that really hot barista for a little too long.” she jabs playfully to which make’s Caitlyn flustered. 

“No I, uh, was just having some small ta—“ she was cut off by Vi approaching their table, setting down each drink carefully. Maddie is looking at Vi just as much as she was, which made her annoyed for some random reason. “Your name’s Vi, huh? You kiss girls or what?” Maddie questions her and the air seems to change. Vi chuckled nervously while Caitlyn and Mel told her to not say that, apologizing on her behalf. 

“I do. You’re not my type though, sorry.” she answers before walking away. Caitlyn and Mel erupt into a laughter that you encounter when something is so stupidly funny that it makes you laugh until your sides hurt. After the laughing stops Mel turns to Maddie who’s sat beside her. “I figured you knew how to talk to women, that seemed a little desperate.” Her playful comment makes Maddies eyebrows furrow in irritation, but that doesn’t last long as they go on to a different conversation. 

Caitlyn fidgets with the lid of her coffee, wanting to talk to Vi again. She’s never been the relationship kind of person, but she could be for her. She was so uniquely beautiful and has something other women she's met don’t seem to have. Her eyes wander down to her cup as she begins to pick it up to take a sip and that's when she sees some writing on the cup. Squinting, it read:

‘U’re cute. Hope to see U around :)’.

Caitlyn almost squeals like a teenager when she sees it but she tries to keep her composure while biting her lip. She didn’t want people to see the softer, more emotional side of her. She wondered why Vi didn’t put her number but shrugged it off as her trying to be respectful and not push too much which is honestly something she appreciated. It was a different behavior she never received from anybody and although it was the bare minimum she is used to people like Maddie so she really isn’t used to it. She makes a mental note to come back tomorrow morning.

After a bit of talking and giggling their drinks were empty and they were all getting a little hungry. Mel had the idea of going to this restaurant across the street and Maddie seconded but Caitlyn wanted to stay and admire her new love interest. “Are you not on call, Maddie? I thought you had to go in today.” Caitlyn asks but barely pays attention as her eyes are fixed on the black and red haired woman wiping down a random table. Maddie replies something like ‘No. I took today off for you… guys.’ but she wasn’t really listening, she was too focused on wondering what this woman's life story was because she looked so happy but when you look deeper, her eyes seem so sad. It was something she compared to a bruised strawberry, so sweet even after being bruised. 

Mel notices Caitlyns excessive staring and whips out her phone to send her a message so Maddie doesn’t get all weird and possessive under the guise of being a ‘caring friend’. After some typing and more staring, Caitlyn is grabbed out of her daze by her phone violently buzzing. She takes it out and reads it while chewing her lip.

‘I’ll take her to get some food. Go get your woman ;).’ Caitlyn giggles and types a quick ‘TY!!!’ accompanied by a heart emoji. She says her goodbyes as she walks them to the door, reassuring Maddie that she’ll meet them in 15 minutes. Maddie tries to protest, but is pulled away regardless.

Vi is still cleaning the table as she feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Caitlyn. She’s nervous because she doesn’t know if she’s gonna get yelled at or asked out. She hopes it’s the second one. “I saw what you wrote on my cup,” she says as she puts a hand on Vi’s bicep. Her eyelashes are long and curled upwards but Vi can tell there’s no makeup on her face. She’s just naturally beautiful and it makes her feel like she’s melting into a puddle. “I’d love to get to know you. Here’s my number if you ever wanna show me how to get that discount.” At first Vi is completely speechless, looking at the card given to her. It’s a business card. It makes sense that she’s a lawyer, beautiful and smart. ‘Caitlyn Kiramman of Medarda Law Firm.’ with a number written in black ballpoint pen. It wasn’t her work phone, it was her personal number. 

“Thank yo–, I mean, yes of course. I’ll text you.”