#Best Perfume store near me

[uniqperfume]

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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.”

[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

[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.”

[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 w/ hinata, atsumu, sakusa, bokuto m.list | rules

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 as 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 as 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 as 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 as 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!!

[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

[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

[chargoeson]

My First Writeblr- An Introduction

I’ve used tumblr on and off for over ten years but wanted a blank slate now in time for NaNoWriMo 2023 and all the future writing projects I’m devoting myself to. Also highly inspired by all the cool writing blogs I’ve discovered so far since restarting this account <3

About Me:

My name is Char or Charlotte (she/her), I’m 25 and live in the Pacific Northwest in the US

I write literary fiction now, but have kept up various personal essay projects and poetry over the years primarily through my private newsletter!

I have a Bachelor’s degree in English Language and Lit with a soft spot for the Gothic and Romantic eras.

Nothing published yet, but since I am finally out of school I am entering a new phase of creative freedom that feels very encouraging.

Fun extras: I’m a virgo sun, pisces moon (yes, it does hurt), my cat’s name is Brad, I am also a fiber artist, musician, home renovator, perfume enthusiast, and chronic illness advocate.

My WIPs:

Project Amgydala (tentative title: Ballad of a Blue Whale) Novella- Literary Fiction/Surrealism Status- Draft 1 complete at around 33,000 words 2024 Goal- First revision/draft 2 Synopsis- Maren Hara, a recent graduate, moves back in with her father and turns completely inward. She removes herself from the life she created throughout university and begins walking from sunset to sunrise, looking for something she cannot put her finger on. This leads her to Devereaux's Salvation, a jazz bar seemingly from another era, whose eager manager and illusive owner begin to crack through Maren's walls and bring her back into humanity.

Project Corvidae (tentative title: I Want to Build a Home with You) Undetermined- Literary Fiction/Light Mystery/Horror Status- Plotting and beginning first draft 2024 Goal- Complete outlines and give draft 1 my best shot Synopsis- In the wake of the death of her family matriarch, portrait painter and former performance art prodigy Leonie Richards finds herself on the receiving end of her grandmothers vast literary legacy and her eclectic, spirit filled home. Alongside her uncle, the art store clerk, and a host of portrait clients she begins to unlock the secrets of the final years of her grandmother's life.

Mind Over Matter- this is actually backstory for Leonie from Project Corvidae and seeks to shed light on her past performance art pieces and the relationship between her and her grandmother. Light body horror, unsettling women, the works. One of These Nights- a slice of life, Murakami-inspired piece of an American expat living in Tokyo trying to ground herself within a new language. Digs into themes of friendship and social anxiety. Lots of fun music cameos. a green pea moon- my FAVORITE. My little baby. A surrealist romp through the dream world and how it relates to the joy and fear of being queer and letting yourself be loved. Near and dear to my heart.

taglist: @annlillyjose @coffeeandcalligraphy @subtlefires @belovedviolence @onomatopiya

[ltash]

Teach Me

You take Ghost to shopping on your upcoming birthday and ended up buying firearms.

We pulled over near the salon.

"I won't take long," I told Simon.

"Ok," he said as he waited in the car.

I was excited about my big day, so I went inside the salon to get pampered.

Two hours had passed and I was still inside when he opened the door of the salon. All the ladies were in shock to see him.

"Bloody Hell!" He muttered as he caught the sight of women looking at him.

I was paying the bill and was just about to exit when I ran to him.

"Simon, please not here," I told him, urging him to go outside.

"Calm down, he's just my boyfriend," I announced, taking my credit card back and finishing up.

"What took you so long, Nora?" Simon asked, his voice tinged with frustration, muffled by the balaclava he was wearing.

"You know how it is with ladies' things. We take our time," I replied, trying to keep my tone light and cheerful.

He sighed. "Where are we going now?"

"To the mall," I said with a smile, hoping to lift his spirits. "I have a few more errands to run, and then we can grab something to eat."

He nodded, and we made our way back to the car, ready to continue our day.

We entered the mall, and almost immediately, the security guards stopped Simon to question him about his tactical vest and the berretta resting on his chest in its holster.

He calmly showed them his special services card. After a moment of scrutiny, they nodded and let him in.

I could see the curiosity in their eyes, but they didn't ask any further questions. We proceeded into the bustling mall.

"I only came here with you. I usually don't go to malls," Simon said, his tone flat.

"At least you came," I replied with a smile.

As we moved from store to store, I told him to wait outside whenever I entered. He seemed uninterested, standing quietly and looking around aimlessly.

Eventually, I stopped by a shop that had men's clothes and pulled him in. "Hey Simon! Let's check it out. Come inside, please," I requested.

He didn't say anything and followed me inside. The shop was filled with men's clothes of various styles and colors.

"What colors do you wear?" I asked, looking through the racks.

"Black, grey, etc. But why' y ask eh?" he responded, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Without hesitating, I started pulling out black, grey, hoodies and sweatpants, handing them over to him. I knew his size so well.

"What are you doing? I already have many," Simon said, trying to put them back on the rack.

"Don't worry. I'll keep them here for you so whenever you visit, you won't have to bring so many clothes along," I insisted.

"Please don't do this," he requested, his voice softening.

"SSh!" I hushed him, determined to make things easier for him.

"If you're not complying, go sit outside. Let me get what I want," I said firmly, sending him out of the shop.

Once he was gone, I started picking out colors I wanted to see him wearing and bought as many clothes as I liked. It was fun imagining him in different outfits.

When I finally emerged with several bags in hand, he facepalmed. "What have you bought? So many bags."

I handed the bags to him and made my way to the perfume shop. He remained silent, watching me with a resigned look as I continued my shopping spree.

I knew the perfume he wore, but Aventus Creed and Baccarat Rouge 540 were my favorite. I wanted to experience their scent on him. Additionally, I bought perfumes for Captain Price, Gaz, and Soap, characters he admired.

After paying, I came out and handed him the bags.

"You are impossible," he said, shaking his head in disbelief at my shopping habits.

Lastly, I went to get a dress for myself: a black, long silk dress with a corset top. I kept that in mind; on my best day, I wanted to look good only for him. As I held the dress, imagining wearing it, I felt a rush of excitement for the special occasion that lay ahead.

Then I emerged from the store with a single bag in my hand.

"Got only this for you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I don't need so many of these. Let's eat something," I suggested, eager to change the subject and enjoy a meal together.

"It's getting late and I don't eat at fancy restaurants. Also, with what I'm wearing, people will run away after looking at me," he said with a hint of self-deprecation.

I chuckled, understanding his reluctance. "Okay, how about we grab something casual then? There's a cozy diner nearby."

"Whatever you want," he said with a small smile.

"Let's get pizza and eat it in the car," I suggested, knowing it would be a simple yet enjoyable way to end the day.

As we settled into the car, I turned to him with a serious expression.

"One more thing," I said, catching his attention.

"What?" he asked, curious.

"I need a firearm for myself," I said, knowing it was a bold request.

"From where will you get it?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I know a place," I reassured him.

He nodded, and we drove to the shop I had in mind. It was a sizable establishment with a wide array of guns and rifles on display.

He opened the door for me, and I entered, determined to find something suitable.

"It must be to your liking," I told him, acknowledging the seriousness of the decision.

"Must be one of your favorite places," I remarked, looking at him for a reaction.

"Hmm," he replied noncommittally.

"Hi! I need a gun and a sniper," I informed the dealer as we approached.

"Gun for you and sniper for him?" the dealer pointed towards Ghost.

"Hey! What are you getting a sniper for?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"For me. I want to learn how to handle it, plus I need protection for myself when you're not around," I replied confidently, knowing it was a decision I had thought through carefully.

"I need your help. You know the weapons best. I don't know which one I should buy," I admitted, turning to him for guidance.

I was surprized he approved me buying a sniper and didn't ask further questions.

The dealer showed me various guns, and Ghost diligently inspected each one. He checked their magazines and fidgeted with their chambers, assessing their quality and reliability with a practiced eye.

Ghost took a gun and showed it to me, a Glock 17. "It's best for your self-defense, and you have small hands, so..." he chuckled, knowing that the size of the weapon mattered for comfort and control. His consideration for my comfort brought a smile to my face, appreciating his attention to detail.

"We'll take this," I said, indicating the Glock 17, following Ghost's recommendation.

"And the sniper?" I inquired, eager to explore our options for long-range defense.

The dealer proceeded to show us various sniper rifles, each one with its own unique features and capabilities.

"If you want to be far away from your enemies, which I know is best in your favor, then you should choose a sniper," Ghost suggested, holding a gun in his hand.

He then presented a sniper rifle, the Sako TRG 42 A1. "This one is lightweight and efficient," he said, highlighting its features.

"Its one of the best Sniper rifles in the world." The arms dealer added.

"Aye! Its bolt action plus it can be carried in a backpack, quite lightweight and handy eh." Simon said admiring the rifle in his hand.

I saw a spark in Simon's eyes and they got darken as he admired the sniper rifle in his hand. He handled it and checked it like he was handling this sniper for ages.

I knew he loved sniper rifles.

I considered his recommendation, recognizing the importance of having a versatile firearm for long-range defense.

"What do you say then?" I asked, seeking his opinion.

"It's one of the best," he replied confidently. "Better than the sniper I have."

His endorsement reassured me, and I nodded, feeling confident in our choice.

I wanted to suprize him with this sniper I was getting for him. It will be the best gift ever for him and I didn't want to tell him. I knew he won't let me buy it then.

"We'll take them," I said to the dealer with a nod of finality.

He carefully packed the sniper and the gun in their respective cases, and Ghost took them, carrying them to the car.

"I must say, you have such a good choice in weapons," I remarked, admiring his expertise.

"That's what we're good at. It's our job. We play with them like babies," he replied, his dedication to his profession evident in his demeanor.

"Teach me before you go. I badly need to know how to use these weapons now," I requested, realizing the importance of being proficient with them for my own safety.

"Soon." He replied.

[pinkurbanfictionhaven]

1- FUCK ME AT FASHION WEEK

The sound of metal hangers scraping rapidly across dozens of clothing racks full of high-priced designer clothing filled up the large NYC penthouse.

The clothing was delivered a few hours prior and had yet to be stored inside Nicki's three-floor closet, so the racks sat in the center of her living room instead.

Nicki groaned annoyedly as she searched maniacally for the white ensemble and matching fur jacket that she requested for her new wardrobe assistant, Trina to pack into her wardrobe for New York City Fashion Week.

"I swear I can not believe this shit! I am scheduled to be at the Tom Ford show in less than a fucking hour and I'm still here struggling to put an outfit together because my assistant can't follow simple instructions and do her damn job!" She ranted, storming into her bedroom to put on her jewelry.

"You know you can just wear something else right? It is the girl's first week doing this job so I am sure that it was an honest rookie mistake, Cookie." Her friend Thembi defends the young assistant.

Nicki eyeballs her, watching her lay lazily across her California King Bed, fully dressed down for the gods in the latest couture while stuffing handfuls of Smart Popcorn into her mouth.

Thembi 👆🏾

Her new stylist, Maher Jridi handpicked the perfect designer outfits for her to slay fashion week, and she felt stressed that everything wasn't in order since she is a bit of a perfectionist.

"Why don't you help me put an outfit together since you know so fucking much!" Nicki rants, tossing her ankle-length weave to the side to clasp her diamond-encrusted necklace around her neck.

Thembi sits upright in Nicki's lavish bed, analyzing her best friend that she has known for years as she shuffled around the gigantic bedroom, complaining about everything under the sun.

Nicki stops near her light-up makeup vanity to spritz some sweet-smelling perfume onto her chest, wrists, and neck.

Staring down at the perfume bottle, she realized that she picked up his favorite perfume scent on her out of habit, it frustrated the hell out of her, causing her to suck her teeth and put the bottle down.

Nicki hated to admit it, but her subconscious mind was on him.

Nicki has been moody and bitchy since they touched down in New York a few days ago, Thembi and all of Nicki's entourage and beauty team couldn't help but notice the change in her.

"What about this red dress, Cookie?" Thembi climbs down from the bed and approaches the various racks of clothing, pulling the dress from a rack after eyeing it from across the room.

This is cute! Right, Cookie?" Thembi holds up a cute short studded dress to show Nicki. "Pair it with some sexy ass thigh highs and you're all set." She runs her hand over the fabric.

Nicki peeks her head out of the bathroom door and cringes at the sight of the dress.

"No! that's basic! Are you trying to turn me into one of these basic bitches?"

Nicki frowned her face in the mirror as she adjusted her glued mink lashes and primped.

"I have to look perfect and sexy, the paparazzi will be there and you know they live for dragging people for their attire. It's bad enough that my name is all up in the news for this Remy bullshit."

Her friend walks into the bathroom, standing beside Nicki as she brushes her long tresses, she stares into the mirrored reflection at her, watching closely with her tongue stuck inside of her cheek.

After a brief moment of thinking, she grins to herself when she comes to the revelation of what is going on with her temperamental friend.

"I just had an epiphany..." Thembi utters knowingly.

Nicki turns her head and looks at her. "I swear if you say I need to go to Tiffany's I'm straight backhanding you back to Queens!" She smiles adorably, lightening up a bit.

"No, crazy! I just figured out why you've been giving everybody a stink-ass attitude all week long and why you've been screening all of your cell calls, throwing tantrums, and spending just a little too much time in the shower with the removable shower head! You, my friend, need some dick!" Thembi exclaimed.

Nicki's neck quickly snapped in Thembi's direction and she gave her a hostile expression, side-eyeing her.

Nicki couldn't help but become a bit offended by her comments, she just threw major shade. Even though it was true tea, she didn't appreciate her friend being so blunt about it.

In reality, it had been a treacherous three weeks since Nicki got the release that she so desperately desired, she was on a sex strike after a heated argument with the guy that she regularly scheduled her freaky dick appointments with and she had way too much pride to crack first.

He and she had a hostile relationship, they argued and bickered whenever they were in the same room and vowed that they hated each other with a burning passion, but a year ago after a drunken night, one of their heated arguments led to them hate fucking on the private balcony of his hotel room and it's been a fuck fest ever since.

They still hate each other, but the sex between them is so fucking explosive and addicting that they can't control themselves.

So here they are, two enemies stuck between hating each other and fucking each other. The turmoil was real.

"Please, not everyone is overly dick obsessed like you ok? I am living my best life over here!" Nicki retorts, slamming her bedazzled brush down on the counter.

Thembi gives her a knowing look, twisting her lips to the side, putting her hand on her hip, and narrowing her eyes.

Nicki kisses her teeth and lets out a loud frustrated shriek, throwing her head backward in anguish and whining.

"Fine, bitch! Fine! Is it that obvious?! Fuck! I've been dickless for three whole weeks and I feel like ripping all of my hair out! You happy?" Nicki rants, throwing yet another tantrum.

Thembi just stares at her in amusement before they both burst into a fit of laughter.

"Bitch, I knew that something had to be up when you were aggressively humping that big unicorn floaty in Gucci's music video last weekend!" Thembi exclaims.

"You know I ain't got no man, sis! Stop playing these games!" Nicki whines.

"Well, what about this mystery guy that you've been fucking on the low and refuse to tell me or our other girls about?" Thembi questions.

"Nicki!" They suddenly hear, Maher calling from the front of the penthouse.

Nicki smiles cheekily in triumph since he just saved her from the awkward conversation.

"Hehe! Nice try, sis!" She says, and playfully sticks her tongue out at her friend before speed walking out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, Maher found an eye-catching last-minute outfit for her and quickly assisted her with putting it on.

It was already bedazzled so the added jewelry was no longer needed.

They all left the penthouse suite fifteen minutes later and arrived at the runway show fashionably late, just before the show began.

Nicki took her seat front row with her entourage of eight, crossing her legs and handing her Gucci purse off to her assistant.

The show began after a small speech from Tom Ford, she watched the slender male and female models as they strutted and sashayed up and down the catwalk in all of the latest designs while the cameras flashed.

Amid the chaos of the show, she felt eyes on her which caused her to scan around the crowded room.

When their eyes finally locked, her breathing became slightly uneven. The look that he gave her caused her legs to clench and her lips to tremble.

There he and his crew were, seated across from her on the other side of the stage.

Nicki wasn't expecting him to be in New York, let alone at fashion week since he wasn't listed as one of the show's performers and the fashion shows weren't usually his thing, he found them boring.

Damn it, he looked fucking edible, he was clean-cut and dressed down in a denim jean jacket and basic attire, but he still had a way of making the simplest of outfits look so sexy and his own.

Nicki could feel herself getting wet from the sight of him alone, the minute she saw the lecherous gleam in his eyes, her pussy started throbbing like rapid a heartbeat.

He blatantly disregarded the models on the runway and continued sensually glancing across the room at her, bluntly eyeing her entire body and biting his lip.

Thankfully, he had on dark designer sunglasses, so it wasn't noticeable to the random people surrounding them, but Nicki peeped it.

He ran his hand over his freshly groomed facial hair and subtly head-motioned for her to get up and meet him in the bathroom.

Nicki subtly shook her head no causing him to frown and glare at her. He never liked when she disobeyed him.

Nicki watched closely as his hand slid from his knee up to his thighs and he grabbed his bulge, letting her know exactly what would be waiting for her if she got up and went to the bathroom.

"Fuck, why the hell is he doing this right now. People could be watching him." She mumbles to herself and shifts in her seat uncomfortably, biting down on her lip.

Nicki decided to finally break the intense eye contact with him and focus on the show once again, she was only getting herself worked up by watching him and his teasing and she knew that eventually, someone in the crowd would catch on.

Every so often during the two-hour show, she would subtly glance over at him to see that his hungry eyes were still focused directly on her, it was very obvious that the outfit she had on was to blame for his sexual behavior.

When the fashion show finally ended, Nicki chatted with the designer and took photographs with celebs, models, and some of the people that she knew from the industry.

Her eyes scanned the entire room multiple times for Abel, but he seemed to have disappeared right after the end of the show. Nicki hoped he was headed for her penthouse.

In the meantime, Nicki decided to mingle with all of the other guests for a while to give him time to make it across town to her place and hopefully be laying in her bed hard and ready for her when she gets there.

It was hard to put on a fake smile and front when in reality she was anxious to get back to her place to get the life fucked out of her, but she did it.

"Nicki!" Tom called her from across the room before approaching her and taking both of her hands in his.

"Tommy! Thank you for inviting me tonight sweetie! I had such a wonderful time." She pecks both of his cheeks sweetly while giving him a big dimpled smile.

"Will you be coming to the after-party?" Tom asks as they begin to walk hand in hand towards the private exit of the venue.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it, I'm kind of tired and jet-lagged." She lies.

"Oh, nonsense! You simply must come, when you see the gift bags that I am giving away you'll be glad that you did. Come on! You can ride over in my limo with me!" Tom began to drag Nicki along by her arm, not taking no for an answer.

Nicki kept a very calm exterior, but on the inside, she was screaming and crying.

Tom didn't understand the urgency of this particular dick appointment, it was crucial!

The next hour was spent at the party, surrounded by boujee fucking partygoers and engaging in pointless conversation with people that she didn't give a damn about.

Nicki sipped slowly on her bubbling champagne as she maneuvered through the crowded party in search of someone in her entourage to drive her back home, she already knew that Abel would eventually become restless.

Nicki spent another twenty-five minutes searching around before she finally decided to call a car service to pick her up.

"Damn, no reception." She sets her glass down on a nearby table and wanders away to a secluded area of the party to get away from the loud, pulsing, blaring music.

Nicki stops near the entryway and she is so focused on her phone that she doesn't notice that the closet door behind her is opening.

A hand suddenly clasps over Nicki's mouth, muffling her scream, and she feels someone's arm grip her small waist, pulling her into the closet.

Nicki begins to shriek, tussle, and freak out until the dimly lit closet light flickers on and she comes face to face with Abel.

Her small balled-up fists began pounding against his chest in frustration and she screeched.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole?! You almost scared me half to death!" She places her hand against her rapidly heaving chest, attempting to calm down her racing heart.

Abel quickly cups his hand over her mouth, pressing her back against the door and reaching down to lock it.

"Would you shut up before we get caught together in here!" Abel gripes, staring down into her brown eyes.

"Well, you can't be popping out of fucking closets like a serial killer!" She retorts, slapping his hands away.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He whispers. "You have been ducking me for weeks. I have been calling and texting you like crazy!"

"I told your nappy-headed ass to leave me alone, you were on punishment and you still are." She rolls her neck and turns to leave the closet, but he pushes her back.

"Fuck out of here... You've kept that pussy away from me for weeks and I'm done with your bullshit aight? I'm not leaving New York without sliding deep inside of you so might as well dead all that fucking attitude and open your fucking legs." He whispers assertively into her ear.

Nicki opens her mouth slightly to speak, but he cuts her off by wrapping his hand around her fragile neck and giving it a slight squeeze; which caused the flood between her legs to worsen.

"Shut up and listen." He demands. "Do you have any idea how badly I have been craving your spoiled ass? You have me catching flights for some pussy like I'm one of these regular niggas out here!" He argues with her which was one of his favorite things to do since it always led to mind-blowing sex.

Nicki gave him an adorable dimpled grin, feeling his grip tighten around her neck, she felt accomplished and powerful knowing her pussy was so good that it had him hopping on private jets just to get a sample of it.

Nicki shrugs playfully. "Sounds personal, but it's not my problem. You could have found some pussy back in Toronto."

"Don't pull all that cute shit with me, Nicki. I already know that you missed this dick being inside of you. I can look into your eyes and see how badly you want me right now." He says cockily, causing Nicki to roll her eyes.

I bet that little pussy is dripping for me like a fucking faucet..." He whispers, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Nicki furrowed her eyebrows, she hated his cocky ass with a burning passion.

"Nigga-"

"Just shut the fuck up, we don't have much time." He whispers huskily, cutting her off.

He pulls her forward by her neck and crashes his lips against hers.

They begin to kiss fervidly, tongue-kissing each other roughly and fighting for dominance. Abel regains full control when he takes her tongue into his mouth and sucks it.

Nicki attempts to gain control by reaching up to grab his hair, but Abel grabs a firm hold of her wrists and forcibly pins them up above her head, causing her to whine out in frustration.

"You ain't running shit today, Peaches..." Abel grunts against her succulently soft lips, calling her the name that he gave because he said that her pussy juices are delicious and sweet and of course that peach-shaped ass of hers.

"We can't do it in here, someone will hear us." Nicki pants against his lips.

"Let me just taste it then.." He grunts back, biting her bottom lip, pulling it before trailing rough kisses down her neck to her chest.

Nicki shutters and bites her lip gently when she feels his hands running down her curves.

They slide over her hips and he grips her ass, his lips connect with her left breast and he swirls his tongue over it.

"This closet is too small for all of that..." she whines, feeling her skin heat up from his rough touching and kisses.

"I'll be fast, mama. I just really need to feel you right now." He whispers.

Abel's hands begin to fumble with Nicki's dress as he desperately tries to find a way to get it off of her.

The cage metal design of it makes it difficult, causing Abel to groan in frustration.

"Take this shit off now before I rip it off of you..." He grits.

Nicki snickers at his frustration before finding a way to slip the dress off.

It drapes to the floor, leaving her in a bedazzled bra and leather bottoms.

Abel eagerly begins to tear her shorts from her body, almost ripping them as his long tongue swirls circles around her exposed cleavage.

He roughly kisses and bites down her body until he reaches her belly button, he swirls his tongue around it before licking lower until he is staring at her pussy that is teasingly visible through her see-through pink thong.

Nicki looks down at him, breathing deeply and eager to feel his tongue. He just stares at it fixedly which is causing her to drip even more.

Nicki whimpers softly and slaps the side of his head to get his attention.

"Eat it, Nigga!" She demands, attempting to pull his face between her legs.

He instantly bites down on her inner thigh, making her squeak and hit him again.

"Keep playing and I'll walk out of here and leave you dripping..." He warns.

Before Nicki can come up with a clever comeback, he forces her thighs further apart, sliding his tongue up her slit.

"You petty ass motherfucker." She hisses, feeling her body tingling for more.

He snickers sinisterly and begins to suck on her clit through the thin fabric of her thong while staring up into her eyes.

"Your panties are already soaked, you were thinking about me huh, ma?" He whispers, moving them over to the side so he can taste more of her.

"Grind that pussy against my tongue, ma." He urges, firmly gripping her thighs while his tongue flips and slurps.

He tortures her clit and slips his fingers into her wet entrance which catches her off guard and causes her to scream out just a little too loudly. He punishes her by forcing his fingers deeper.

"Shut up and take this shit, you can take it can't you, baby?" He teases.

The sound of him sucking drives her insane, she was so fucking turned on that she slipped her breasts out of her bra and started kneading and licking her breasts which drove Abel crazy.

Nicki curses repeatedly under her breath and throws her head back in total ecstasy when he starts to suck harder just like she likes it, making her clit harden in his mouth, as his fingers relentlessly probed in and out of her.

Heat rushes throughout her body and in between her thighs.

Nicki's pussy was succulent, Abel could eat it all day if she'd allow it, his favorite place was in between her legs and he knew that his tongue game was the best that she'd ever had.

Her thighs tremble and her toes begin to curl inside of her boots when he begins to devour her as if she is the only form of nourishment that he would ever possess.

Nicki was a moaning mess, inching closer and closer to her release as her hips grind desperately and her breath hitched.

When Nicki is mere seconds away from exploding all over his face, Abel suddenly stops and stands with his face and beard coated in her wetness.

"What the fuck!" Nicki gripes, heaving slightly as her stomach twists in knots from her neared release that he ruined.

Nicki made an impassioned plea for him to continue pleasing her, but Abel had other plans, his desperate need for release made him uncaring. He had to fuck her.

Abel wasn't even trying to hear her whining, his only focus was filling her up with his cum.

He fumbled around with his belt until his erect dick was freed and pulsing hard in his hand.

Nicki was about to curse him out but he shut her up when he wordlessly pushed her back against the door, thrusting deep inside of her with one harsh movement.

All Nicki could do was gasp and hold onto him tight, closing her eyes and whimpering at the fullness that she felt with him inside of her.

"That shut you right the fuck up huh, baby girl?" He teases, proceeding to thrust his hips and give her the deep long strokes that she had been craving for three weeks.

He gripped her thigh, lifting one so that he could dig deeper while his other hand wrapped around her neck dominantly.

"Look at me, baby..." He demanded, leaning forward to kiss her lips deeply.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and he made intense eye contact with her, watching her mouth gape when he slid balls deep and her eyes water when he hit the right spot.

He loved watching her unravel before him, watching her body submit every time he slides inside of her and pushed her past her limits.

Nicki didn't have to utter a word, her expression said it all. Her eyes squinted and her moans filled his ears as she thrusts against him and cursed under her breath.

Abel was over all the slow shit after a while, he and Nicki never had the time to fuck slow, their sex was always rough and fast.

He released his firm grip on her neck and lifted her other thigh up, taking full control of her body.

Fear took over Nick's expression, she knew what was coming from the look in his eye, she tried to keep a tough expression although she knew her pussy was about to be torn apart.

"You better not drop me down on this floor, nigga." She sassed, trying to mask her fear and excitement.

Abel's brow remained furrowed, he didn't give a fuck about her smart-ass comments because he knew she would soon be rendered speechless.

He began to pound into her core roughly, giving her short and fast strokes that caused her pussy to throb in pleasured pain.

"Oh fuck!" She screamed, no longer caring if anyone heard her.

He kissed the side of her face, lifting her and making her bounce on his dick. "Take this shit, take this dick baby." He grunted.

"Fuck, baby! That hurts so fucking good!" She moans and digs her nails into the back of his neck, gripping him tightly.

He became even more aggressive and began fucking her like he hated her, showing no mercy on her sore pussy.

Abel's pace increased and sweat beads formed on his forehead, he shut his eyes tightly and moaned when she began to tighten up on him. He made her bounce harder although he could feel her attempting to push him out.

"Fuck, wait, Abel..." she whimpers, trembling a bit in his arms.

"Nah, I'm not stopping until you cum on this dick so you better take this shit, ma." He grunts against her neck.

"I can't take it!" She whimpered. "Fuck, please slow down, Daddy!" Abel smiled and shook his head no.

"The next time that you decide to be petty and keep this pussy away from me for three weeks, I'm going to destroy your fucking walls... do you hear me?" He breathes.

Nicki started to cry softly against his shoulder, it felt so good that she couldn't hold back the tears and she knew he would never let her hear the end of it when it was said and done.

"Stop holding it, you are not about to make me cum first so just cum for me," Abel whispers into her ear which made her whine in frustration.

It was a competition between the two, they kept a record of who made who cum first and Nicki had yet to succeed in making Abel cum before her.

Not being able to take any more punishment, Nicki starts to release all over Abel's dick while screaming into the nape of his neck.

"Good girl." He praises her, slowing down his strokes to help her through her orgasm.

The slow strokes make her cum again which causes him to chuckle, she is so mad and embarrassed that all she can do is nuzzle against his shoulder like a big baby and moan.

Her body trembled once again when he finally filled her up with his warm cum, moaning and grunting in her ear as he releases.

They both remained there silent and panting for just a few minutes to gather themselves.

Nicki's pussy felt numb when he finally put her down on the floor and pulled out.

They wordlessly redressed and Nicki quickly exited out of the closet once the coast was clear.

Glancing over her shoulder, she notices Abel leaning against the wall, texting.

He glances up at her from under his lashes and just smirks.

"When I get to your crib tonight you better be naked and waiting for me, I'm not done with you." He says.

Nicki smiles slightly, displaying one of her dimples before rolling her eyes.

"I'll think about it." She yanks down her dress before walking away with a satisfied smile on her face.

[moontaingoat]

Shoplifting Tips for Beginners:

(compiling some of my tried and true advice in no particular order. these mostly apply to grocery stores because i find grocery stores the easiest to steal from, but you can apply most tips to other stores. none of these tips are guaranteed to keep you safe but they've always worked for me. also this is only about shoplifting small items that can fit on your person, because stealing large items is too risky for me personally.)

- be aware of who is around you without constantly looking around or appearing nervous. stay casual. don't let other customers witness you stealing, you never know who's a snitch.

- case the joint days beforehand without taking anything, buy an item or two. watch how vigilant the employees are, locate all the security cameras, find good unpopulated corners of the store where you can subtly stuff something in a pocket.

- FOOL THE CAMERAS TOO. i cant stress this point enough. most stores don't have someone consistently watching the cameras, but they'll roll back the footage to watch your whole trip if they see you being suspicious enough. ideally you'd like to find a place in the cameras' blind spots but it's not always possible. the footage is low res and limited by angle which can be exploited if you're smart about it. don't just stuff things in your pocket when no one's standing nearby. trick the cameras with sleight of hand. example: hold a small product in your hand. take your phone out of your pocket or purse and hold it in front of the product in the same hand while you pretend to text or something. then casually place both the phone and the product back in the phone's place. example 2: open a freezer door and stand between the door and the camera so the frosty glass blocks you as you fill your pockets or purse.

- purchase a couple of things when you steal. the more you actually buy, the less suspicious employees will be of you. you can get away with stealing a LOT just by going to a self checkout with over $100 of groceries and "forgetting" to scan several small items. (of course this requires the investment of actually buying groceries which not everyone can afford.)

- know the habits of the store you're stealing from. most walmarts ive been to check receipts after self checkout, so make sure any items not on your receipt are hidden under items you did pay for. ive never had my receipt checked at target but you never know.

- learn what kind of items have concealed security tags. usually this is limited to clothing, perfume, jewelry, and expensive meats or seafood, but stores that get shoplifted from frequently will often add their own. those ones are usually just a sticker that you can stealthily remove before taking the product past the security detectors at the door.

- speaking of detectors, they're imperfect technology. a lot of stores ignore the detectors going off unless they already suspect you of stealing because they glitch so much. pay attention to this and see if a store near you has this problem you can exploit

- if a security detector does go off while you walk past, you can just keep walking and pretend you didn't notice. employees will almost never follow you unless they already suspect you of stealing.

- if you do get caught with an item you didn't pay for, you can just say "whoopsie! must have missed this one!" and then go pay for it. as long as the employees don't recognize you as a repeat offender, they're not going to call the cops on you if you immediately act innocent and pay for the product.

- try to look well groomed. if you're stealing for survival you might not be able to dress well and look your best before a shoplifting trip but the "poorer" you look, the more employees will keep an eye on you.

- don't bring a big purse or a backpack. instantly makes you look suspicious. go for a small bag with barely any contents or baggy clothes with concealed pockets (weather permitting, because a huge jacket in the summer is another red flag)

- go during the busiest hours. at grocery stores, early afternoon on sunday is the busiest time of the week. especially the first sunday of the month because the food stamps customers have just gotten their month's supply. this means more customers and employees that could be witnesses, but it also means employees will be too busy to worry about you unless they think you're stealing a LOT. alternatively you can go in close to closing time where there won't be many witnesses and employees will be too busy getting ready to close to pay much attention to suspicious behavior.

- most grocery stores don't mind if you eat or drink the product before buying it, especially if you're feeding it to a fussy baby. you can exploit this rule by eating or drinking an entire single-serving product and then stashing the packaging somewhere without paying for it.

- if you're going to be a regular, be a friendly one. stealing from the same store too often is risky, but there's no good reason not to slip a block of cheese into your pocket instead of your cart on a routine trip, so to protect yourself from suspicion it helps to be a friendly regular. if you go a little past polite small talk with cashiers and bond with them, they'll trust you more.

- if youre underage stealing alcohol, don't be overconfident. limit yourself to 1 can of high abv seltzer or beer at a time and make sure your pocket bulging isn't obvious enough to give you away.

thats all i have for now i think. cops and losers and idiots who think law=morals dni

[suzirya]

Joys:

Found a leaf to meditate on throughout the day in blazing colours, pet a dog named Milo who kissed my hands and whose excitement at being loved was palpable, saw dryer-lint clouds scudding across the sky so fast, saw leaves whirling into the air like notes caught up and scattered. Read the first chapter of Inciting Joy by Ross Gay on the bus and felt it tug on me.

Walked to the coffee shop and when I came inside the barista said yeah you better come in here and not walk on by and we smalltalk shot the shit while I got a cayenne-orange coffee. Went next door to the bodega-style store that was being restocked on fresh fish and other sundries and whose delivery people were polite, excuse me, thank you, and the owner went to the cafe next door to get me little containers of butter and a knife so that I could have those to serve with the sourdough I got for any of us who are at work today. Also Milano double-chocolate cookies. And the loaf was gone by end of day, and the cookies well-munched.

The smell of a perfume I wore that reminds me of two people at once and that I can enjoy by holding my inner wrist up to my face, interesting weathering shades and tones on concrete, seeing construction workers stretch and hold ladders steady for each other, heartbreaker chile made by El.

Listening through a playlist and feeling happy with the flow of it at last. Warm breeze on a lunch walk. Everyone cutting each other a bit of slack, a lot of grace, don't worry about it.

Lovely convos on and off by text with a best dearheart friend. My coworkers and I wishing each other a night, be well, take care.

Seen: a young man having his hair cut by another young man on a rental-house porch while wearing a giant T-shirt, and it's dusk, and another probable housemate carrying a case of ginger ale past them into the home, and feeling tender about it all.

A free shot of sake from a kind bartender at dinner part one.

El wearing a cologne of theirs I love and me feeling more grounded because of it.

Having a space to gather in for a bit after work and eat dinner in community. A dog who's happy to see us. Juniper and cedar notes in a fizzy beverage. Floor time. Lying back with my eyes closed and listening. Improvised music featuring a drum set, a bass, piano, flute, and trumpet as well as hand percussion and humming. Sometimes fumbling and not-working but working towards. Sometimes harmonious and fluid and "clicked" into place. A period of silence in the middle of the improvised sound. Candles. And a room to retreat to while others in the gathering space clamoured, and it felt like being younger and listening to the party in the next room while taking a sensory and stimulation break. The joy of building a grilled cheese at a DIY bar in the two-person kitchen and someone else cooking it for me, assembly line style. My friend present there letting me share their tomato soup because there was only one bowl left but they wanted to let me dunk my grilled cheese. All of us in the room promising to talk to our therapists and resolve emotional residues before committing to a major change in our hairstyle because we all kinda wanna buzzcut down to near-bald again. And texting, again with dearheart friend, about playlist brainstorming, which is playful and felt good. And breaking a glass in an improvised wreck room. And the casual presence of group chats.

And a hot shower.

And posting this that I've been working on since 9 am this morning, to see how the little things can add up, which has always been something I can do to get through and then get to it.

[lunathebee]

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warning: none just cheesy fluff

A/n: I love lego flowers so much but its so heckin expensive in my country ugh, i changed the plot a tiny bit if u dont mind @spicydonut25

Summary: Y/n brings the perfect gift for Steven on their date.

Meeting Steven was strange, and dating him is even stranger. The British man seems to drive Y/n crazy (in the best way possible) because he doesn't fit in any male category that the internet offers.

Y/n's eyes are starting to get tired from looking at the laptop's screen, scrolling mindlessly through the lists of gifts that everyone thinks are good ideals for a man. But they're all wrong! This is not any man; this is Steven! For God's sake, he doesn't need perfume or a pair of sneakers.

Y/n cursed under her breath. She wants to get the perfect gift for Steven; the poor guy should keep a random trinket she found at his table like a lucky charm.

*ting*

The sound catches Y/n's attention. Quickly tossing the laptop aside, she reaches for the phone to see what's up.

*Hi Im just texting to make sure our date are on Friday 7pm this week yea?*

It seems to be a text from Steven himself; he always wants to double check everything and tries his best to be on time. Y/n can't help smiling while tapping the screen and typing back a reply.

*Yep, im looking forward to meet u soon <3*

Steven replied almost immediately after, but instead of making Y/n happy, it made her stomach churn with anxiety.

*Me too, got a small surprise for you*

Y/n sighed tiredly; she can't believe Steven had already gotten her a present, and here she is, on her bed, with a blank mind. Would a new jacket do the trick? or a bag? or maybe something for little Gus.

Y/n returns to scrolling on her laptop, looking at the many items that flash on the shopping website. And just when she thinks her luck has run out, she notices something. 

Lego.

Not only Lego, but Lego's flowers! The store even had the flowers that Steven gifted Y/n on their first date, the type of flowers that Steven was so determined to get that he ran to five different stores to find them and almost missed the date.

Y/n smiles to herself while thinking back on the memories. This sure would be a very thoughtful gift for Steven, and plus, his desk will look better with it as a decoration (not a random trinket).

Feeling satisfied, Y/n added the lego set to her cart and completed the payment, thinking about how happy her lover would be.

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

"You're early!" Y/n exclaimed when she arrived at the spot and already saw Steven sitting there, waiting for her. "Traffic is terrible; I should have left the house earlier."

"No, no, it's alright, you're right on time." Steven smiled and stood up to hug Y/n, sneaking in a quick kiss on her cheek too.

"Oh and here," Steven said, letting go of his lover and reaching into the pocket, pulling something out to show. "A present, as promised."

It was a beige box with silk ribbon wrapped around it, forming a bow. Y/n's face lit up when she eagerly took the box from Steven's hand, quickly unwrapping it. "A keychain! of my favorite animal!" Y/n said out loud before holding it near her eyes, seeing how the glitter sparkled under the street light.

Steven swears it's the most beautiful sight ever, seeing how excited Y/n is over his small gift. It's not very exaggerated to say he is a bar of ice cream and Y/n is the sun, the way he melted for her but still wants to admire her forever.

"Oh, I've got something for you too!" Y/n held up a paper bag and smiled shyly. "It arrived a bit late, so I don't have time to wrap it properly, sorry."

Steven mumbled a quick "it's okay" before saying thank you and taking the bag from Y/n's hand. The moment he looks inside to see what it is, his eyes widen with shock.

"A..No way! Is this for me, darling? Lego?! Oh, hang on now, let me take a better look...Lego's flower! Oh...wow.." Steven can't help his excitement upon seeing the gift; he had seen some kids bring some sort of blocky toy like this to the museum but never dared ask what it is.

"So this is... popular among kids, right?" He asked, fingers trading the display picture of the box.

"Hmm, I would say so, but this one is for adults; it contains a lot of pieces."

"Oh geez, I appreciate it, but why don't you just buy something cheaper? Like...real flowers? I love anything, as long as it's from you." Steven blushed while saying this and looked down at his lap; he has this bad habit of avoiding eye contact whenever he is nervous and can't seem to quit it.

But Y/n never mind; instead of getting mad, she put her hand on Steven's cheek, slowly guiding his head so that he looked at her.

"Real flowers will wither, but this one won't; it will stay forever, like my love for you."