#Teen top wallpaper

[soulmateszedits]

Chunji × Teen Top ; Too Late ᓚᘏᗢ

✧ Era

✧ AJ

[violetpixiedust]

14-02-21

dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader

description: you were somewhat content living in kildare with your beautiful twin girls, collecting child support cheques, and staying out of the kook limelight. that was until your ex and baby daddy rafe cameron got clean. the now head of cameron development finally realized that he needed to step up, and be the father he always promised he would be for your children. not to mention the man you had practically begged for before that devastating night you left him. but will you give him the chance?

warnings: afab reader. no description of appearance. featuring ex!rafe cameron x ex!reader. dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader. girl dad!rafe cameron. toxic!rafe. businessman!rafe. pogue to kook!reader. sweet!reader. florist!reader. angst. not teen pregnancy, but not adult either. co-parenting. mentions of drugs. mentions of domestic violence. 18+. mdni.

a/n: a new series i’m working on! let me know if you’d like to read more?

1. 𓍼

it was awkward to say the least.

that brand new car smell of rafe’s porche made you queasy, holding your breath to the best of your ability despite your twin daughters babbling in the backseat. they were enraptured with the brand new jelly-cats rafe- or perhaps- rafe’s assistant had purchased for them.

it hadn’t always been this way. there had been a time when you believed you knew rafe, the real one behind the glitz and glamour of being outer banks royalty. behind each stinging line and dime bag of coke, cigar smoke, and tightly wound up bills that came with capitalizing on people’s addictions. rafe was top dog, barry his right hand man, running their drug operation past the cut and then some under the guise of cameron development- which had been newly inherited.

amidst the fancy cars, motorbikes, top shelf whisky, tannyhill, designer clothes and 18k gold jewelry, you were rafe’s most prized possession. a sweet little bar cart girl from the country club turned co-ruler of the rambunctious beach side town. you were a pogue turned kook long before rafe had noticed you, but you still managed to catch his eye whilst being decorated in vintage prada and blumarine, skipping in the ocean coast at the boneyard.

your romance grew hot, blooming faster than anybody could fathom. within a week you were the angel bar cart girl turned rafe’s lover. you wanted to believe he loved you, did believe him for longer than you should have. even when his saltwater eyes would be rimmed with scarlet, pupils dilated despite the fact that he promised he would stop dipping into his own supply. even when his once gentle hold would leave an ache beneath your tender skin, his gold signet ring often threatening to leave a brand. even when his booming voice would vibrate off the decorative wallpaper, blowing your hair back with the sheer force of his anger in your face.

and especially when you sat alone at the country club, rafe’s empty seat mocking you from where you picked at your cooling dinner, numb to the local’s pitiful and amused stares.

that had been rafe up until your period was two weeks late, two vibrant lines on four home pregnancy tests snapping him into gear. it wasn’t a discussion. you would be having the child- children- two twin girls, and he would be the father he never had. he would stop the coke, the dealing, the parties. be the man you always wanted. the man you knew when it was just the two of you between your silk sheets. in the early hours of the peaceful and serene morning, staring at his sober expression that was filled with love rather than turmoil.

that had been rafe for longer than you thought he could be.

“you sick or something?” despite your ex’s harsh tone, you knew he wasn’t angry. annoyed most likely- given that this was the first time you had agreed to an outing with him and both of your children since the separation. the children lived in a gorgeous house with you a few blocks from tannyhill since before they had turned one- their fourth birthday now a mere few months away much to your disbelief. rafe had ensured his children would still have a spectacular view of the ocean that he had grown up having. he was good at that. making sure the three of you were taken care of. throwing however much money you needed for necessities, toys for the girls, furniture and decor for the home, and then some for your own pleasure.

your oldest daughter by five minutes- valentine, spoke up. “is mommy sick?”

you quickly turned in your place from the passenger seat, ignoring rafe’s piercing cobalt eyes only to meet valentine’s that matched them almost identically. your mustered up smile quickly turned genuine at the sight of your sweet babies in their car seats, stuffed animals flopped in their laps. “‘m fine, val-“

your younger daughter- rosette- or rosy for short, appeared as a mirror of your younger self- with her doe eyes so similar to yours staring back at you. “pwomise?” her sweet voice was quiet, hiding behind her new scarlet bunny jellycat. your expression softened immensely, holding out your chipped manicured pinky. instantly, both of your daughter’s latched on with theirs, the trio of you giggling for no apparent reason, missing rafe’s uncomfortable expression from behind the wheel.

your twins were aware of their father, which was a miracle given that rafe had always struggled to keep his word about being the dad he never had. a continued presence in their lives despite your separation. as the breadwinner however, he couldn’t be there all the time- and living separately only made things harder. the heir of cameron development visited at least once a week for coffee at your home. the two of you would watch your daughters play with the new toys rafe purchased for them weekly, helping them when they occasionally got stuck. it would be tense between you two at the beginning of every visit. rafe keeping to a strict routine of asking if everything was working properly, that the girls were healthy, that you had enough. you would assure him every time that you did, but held your tongue when describing your week. he had been in the bahamas on business when you had given birth, but had never missed a birthday since. he had been out at the country club with topper when valentine had said her first word- cat, which caused him to spiral when he heard he had missed it. he’d been absent when they learned how to walk, when they were potty training, learned how to talk, learned how to read small words, write small words. still, he couldn’t abandon his legacy for his children that he had spent under a hundred hours with during the year. as long as they had enough.

rafe’s porche eventually pulled up outside of a bakery he had never been to- let alone heard of teetering on the edge of the cut. the blonde held his tongue when you initially offered the location of the establishment you had the liberty of choosing, mentioning that they had a kids menu the girls would enjoy. he wondered if you regularly brought his children to places near or on the poorer side of the island, knowing how firmly against he was on the subject.

it had always been a point of contention between you two that you could never fully assimilate to kook culture. despite your mother becoming a successful name in the real estate business through pure dedication and hard work in your freshman year, you never wanted to take full advantage of it. rafe couldn’t forget your old car, one that was still parked outside of your mother’s house the last time he checked. a violet 1965 chevrolet impala that had been passed down from your grandmother after she died. the doors were squeaky, handles slightly sticky, the silver bumper rusted some, and the paint was chipped, but you refused to get rid of it. it was only until rafe threatened to have the piece of junk towed if you ever thought about driving his children around in that metal death trap that you folded. instead, you picked a sensible audi as your new car when he took you to the dealership a few weeks before your separation. a model so unlike either of you much to his chagrin.

speaking of, your vintage handbag that was speckled with age and decorated with cutesy keychains no doubt picked out by your daughters, jingled in the summer breeze when you stepped out of his car. despite how much your stubbornness and individuality got on his nerves, rafe couldn’t deny that you still held his heart after all these years. you stuck by him till the end of the line. endured his mood swings, his violent tendencies, his addiction, all because you loved him. he couldn’t fault you for leaving when it got to its worst, especially since it was for the sake of your girls. your tearful voice still echoed in his ears as if it were yesterday. i can’t have them growing up in this house thinking that this is what love should feel like, rafe. i can’t. you can’t seriously want someone like you as their example for marriage.

that had kept rafe up at night for months after you moved out.

before he could pull rosy out of her car seat, the blonde heard your soft melodic voice singing from the other side of the vehicle. the short haired man straightened up slowly, as if disbelieving of the sound.

you were cast in a beacon of sunlight. the early summer morning glowing against your stunning complexion that your daughters’ shared. he hadn’t said anything about your darling mini dress when you had opened your front door only a half hour ago, just stared for a moment too long before stepping past you inside. rafe wasn’t sure how to verbalize that every time he saw you, you reminded him that nobody else could ever hold a candle to how gorgeous you were.

the eldest cameron inevitably grew up since you discovered you were pregnant. having shaved off his juvenile curtain bangs, swapping his colourful polos and graphic tees with button down dress shirts and neutral designer short sleeves. wearing the family ring on his finger with pride, along with a watch that cost more than the house you grew up in on his wrist. replacing his dirt bike with a number of luxury cars, each more expensive than the last. despite that, he couldn’t deny that it seemed like not a second had passed since the first time he saw you in that bar cart, all those reinventions of himself ago.

you were still the sweetest girl in the outer banks apparently. only with him, now, you were more reserved. speaking when spoken to and keeping details concise- just in case he had to fly out the door that next minute to tend to a number of other responsibilities a man like him had. wheezie kept him updated. you still smiled at everyone you came across, kook or pogue- your daughters’ following in suit, sharing your sweetness. the residents of outer banks only had nice things to say about his family. rafe regularly heard about you picking some flowers for the elderly woman who lived down the road from your home, as her son was one of his business partners’.

a few weeks ago, you had donated some of the twins’ old toys that they explicitly said they didn’t play with to unprivileged children on the cut. after he heard about that one- he immediately drove to your house to confront you- the gifts for his daughters’ meaning more to him than you had initially realized. even still, you were under the impression that his assistant had been picking them out. sensing he felt as if you were donating his affection.

you were perfect in every sense of the word, and rafe couldn’t help the feeling of your small hand squeezing around his heart- unable to look away from where you and your eldest daughter were singing a song he didn’t recognize. the grip her little hands had on your shoulders tightened after you lifted her up, swinging her around as best you could- much to her delight.

rafe jumped when he felt a tiny hand pull on his left fingers, absent from a wedding band. you two hadn’t gotten that far before everything went to shit. the sun kissed man looked down, your doe eyes staring back up at him from where your youngest daughter was still sat in her car seat. his adams apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, quickly unbuckling the little girl before plopping her on his hip. the scent of the baby shampoo you still used on rosy’s hair wafted up to rafe’s nose after the toddler quietly rested her head in the crook of his neck. a dull ache pulsed behind his cobalt eyes when he remembered his little girl as a baby. the chub in her cheeks had softened since then, and rafe knew her features would only keep growing in every day he wasn’t there.

the exterior of the bakery was painted a deep green shade, and valentine had excitedly commented on how it was the same colour as your neighbour’s new ‘boyfriend’ (engagement) ring. inferiority wormed it’s way into rafe’s chest, a feeling that seemed to make itself known when he was faced with the topic of marriage and companionship. you were raised by a single mother yourself. your father having skipped out on the two of you before you learned how to walk. rafe knew you appreciated everything he did for you, but he wasn’t blind when faced with that bittersweet look in your eyes every time your daughters would mention something rafe had no knowledge of. wether it be a show, something funny that had happened earlier that week, or something you had done.

the four of you walked through the open glass door, with rafe managing to hide his surprise at the charm of the small hole in the wall bakery. the bottom half of the walls were painted a warm butter yellow, the tops cream with matching engraved trimmings, paired with deep grey tiled floors, and a small strip of patterned green carpet that ran beneath the petite tables on the right hand side of the establishment. each small circular table was decorated with a clear vase of stemmed flowers, coinciding with the decorative floral piece that hung from the middle of the ceiling. a leather booth seat ran down the entire right hand wall of the seating area, turning the corner with a window that faced the lot. the left hand side showcased a matching window, displaying freshly baked bread, along with a glass case of sweet and savoury baked treats. behind the long counter and barista machines was a wooden board displaying the menu, which admittedly looked delicious to rafe.

before he could even speak, a short haired woman walked out from behind the serving counter. “hey, you!” rafe watched intently at the way your expression instantly brightened at the sight of the mystery woman. her quirky mushroom crocheted earrings bobbed when she gave you a hug as best she could with valentine between you. jesus, rafe rolled his eyes. it was as if he wasn’t even in the room when the employee started speaking. “i’m so glad you’re here! i was going to text you! architectural digest is doing a segment on flowers in public spaces, and they came in this morning to take photos of your display.”

rafe could’ve dropped rosy at that statement, his pink lips falling agape. architectural digest? your floral display? you made-?

“what?” your normally soothing voice was a mix between incredulous and excitement, teary with emotion. valentine’s cobalt gaze finally tore away from the treats, her eyebrows furrowing in concern at the crystals balancing along her mother’s waterline.

“you- you made that?” rafe asked dumbly, mildly embarrassed at the way his question came out. the employee seemed to register rafe then, her fading smile bleeding with recognition. the cameron man hardened his expression to mask his various feelings at that look, tightening his tense lips before sending a poisonous glare in the short haired woman’s direction. she answered before you did, her initially friendly tone now clipped.

“she did. she’s been making them for us since we opened last year.” guilt immediately flooded the man’s rigid body. last year? how had you- the mother of his children- been making floral displays for the last year, and architectural digest knew before he did? rafe turned to look at you, but you stayed silent, choosing to bounce valentine in your arms to avoid his intense glare. frustration began to seep into rafe’s veins, filtering out the guilt in the only way he knew how.

“she’s always been quite humble, hasn’t she?” it would have been a sweet sentiment, had rafe’s bass toned voice not been coated with distain. why hadn’t you told him this was something you were interested in? something you wanted to pursue? how did you even have the time to do this? who was watching his children when you were doing this?

the short haired woman turned to look at you, her hardened expression softening at the weak smile of embarrassment you sent her unbeknownst to rafe. “well, i bought a hundred copies. along with two extras for you and your mom.”

you gasped, unable to do anything but protest. “sandra, you didn’t-“

sandra, only laughed as if it had been the easiest decision in the world. “of course i did, and to say thank you for bringing ad to the bakery, lunch is on me today. anything you and the kids want.” valentine laughed when sandra tickled her tummy with her pointer finger, causing you to finally smile brightly once again. the two of you hugged tightly once more before sandra left your family to their own devices, another kind looking employee standing on deck behind the counter for when you four made your decision.

“we’re not done talkin’ about this.” rafe harshly broke the silence between your little family. you didn’t respond, only leading the way to a corner table that would allow you two the most room in the albeit empty bakery. there were only two other people enjoying what was assumed to be a coffee date on the other end of the establishment. rafe bitterly couldn’t help but wonder how sandra made any money if her bakery was this empty on a friday morning.

your twins were silent, meeting each others eyes with seemingly twin telepathy. you and rafe didn’t notice when you both sat down on either side of the corner booth, too engrossed in your own thoughts with valentine and rosy in your laps respectively. “mommy, can we have treats later?” valentine peaked up at you unsurely, foreign to the somber energy you were radiating.

tears threatened to drip down your throat. you were so unsure of how a man who had given you the two greatest and sweetest things in your life could be so mean when he wanted to be. “of course, baby. mommy wants some too. we just need to eat some real food first.”

“what d’you girls want?” rafe asked your daughters, addressing them for seemingly the first time today besides his initial hugs and hellos. you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, bouncing valentine on your lap much to her delight while you scanned the kids menu.

“they have pancake cereal.” you managed to put on a grin for your children, valentine and rosy gasping with excitement once they realized what you had said. rafe furrowed his eyebrows, reading over what that was.

mini pancake cereal

fluffy, house made, mini buttermilk and vanilla pancakes with fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

comes with your choice of whip cream, maple syrup, or mixed berry compote

“can we please get it, mommy!” rosy exclaimed, one of her tiny fists balling rafe’s black polo in it’s grasp, her other arm clutching her new bunny stuffie to her chest. rafe’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, never having heard his youngest speak so loud unless she was playing tag with her sister. she was usually so shy in her father’s mind. you laughed sweetly, as if you were expecting it.

as if it were a regular occurrence.

“of course we can, lovie.” your ex felt his heart swell and break simultaneously while watching you with the twins. you were such an amazing mother. it was so clear you adored them, and in turn they adored you. rafe swallowed dryly when the kids began to babble nonsense about this supposed pancake cereal, letting himself look at you properly. his cobalt eyes raked across the serene slopes of your face, catching sight of the sparkly eyeshadow and rosy lipgloss that decorated your angelic features. it was like you to put in the extra effort on your appearance when going anywhere, something rafe admired heavily about you when you first started dating, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you had put in a little extra effort for him this time. it had been years since the pair of you went out like this, only now you had two children who emulated your beauty to a tee.

“what’re you getting?” you seemed shocked that he was speaking to you, figuring you would get the silent treatment. rafe sighed through his nose, knowing if he wanted this to be a regular occurrence, he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. you didn’t deserve that- no matter how much he made you feel like you did. you watched carefully when his large hand began stroking rosy’s back- as if he had been doing it her whole life. rafe gritted his teeth momentarily, looking away before catching sight of the floral display that hung from the ceiling.

it’s textures were dazzling. a tilted silhouette made up of beiges, hints of yellows, pinks, and whites. vines, cotton ball flowers, feathered plants, and dried flowers were among the many plants it contained. it was masterfully chaotic, and acted as a skillful conduit for the outside to match the in. “it’s beautiful- your- uh, your installation, i mean.” rafe caught himself. “i wish that i-“ he bit his lip, chuckling humourlessly at the fact that he could speak to a whole conference room composed of the most powerful businessmen in the country, but couldn’t tell you the truth. “i-i wish that i knew that part of you.”

he avoided your eyes, unknowing to the way they softened at his quiet admission. you knew that took a lot for him to admit, to be vulnerable after everything that’s happened. it wasn’t even a fraction of enough to get you back to the highest of highs in your relationship, but it was the strongest start in a long time. “thank you, rafe.” rafe looked at you then, ignoring the goosebumps that travelled up his arms at the way you said his name. you were blissfully unaware that he just narrowly avoided asking all the questions that balanced on the tip of his tongue. “do you know what you’re getting?”

“i’ll do the same.” rafe decided quickly, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized you hadn’t told him what you wanted yet. his eyes widened a moment later in realization, clearing his throat to the side before mumbling quietly. “you- uh, you always used to get the vegetarian hash at the country club for brunch. jus’ thought you would do the same here.”

a sharp gasp left your glossy lips. you couldn’t believe he remembered that. thankfully, valentine spoke up before you could internalize what that meant. “mommy, could i get orange juice? rosy wants apple.”

rafe held rosy in his strong arms, cradling the little girl to his chest much to your rapidly melting facade. it was completely different watching him interact with them in public. only having seen him somewhat cautiously playing with your daughters’ on your living room rug under your watchful eyes, or scooping them up for a quick hug when he came through the front door at the beginning and end of his visits. “‘course, baby.” rafe answered for you. valentine spared her father a look before turning back towards you for the final verdict. your doe eyes flitted towards your ex, immediately noticing how enamoured he was with rosy on his lap, gazing at her relaxed form with pure adoration. your heart raced at the little grin that spread across his pink lips, rosy staring back at her father with the same agape lips that rafe was often known for supporting.

you spoke up after ensuring both juices were on the menu. “of course, val’s, but you don’t have to ask only me. you can ask daddy too.” rafe inhaled a sharp breath, in utter disbelief that you had just acknowledged him like that. a genuine smile directed towards him spread across your lips for the first time that morning. “coffee. black. no sugar?”

there was something in rafe’s cerulean eyes that gleamed, glittering with cautious hope before he whispered. “yeah. only if you get an oat chai.”

once the food had been brought out, and your girls’ fruit juices had been poured into their travel sippy cups, the four of you began to eat. sandra had gotten the chef to make the pancakes extra mini, allowing the girls’ to use their hands and chew their breakfast safely. still, rafe and yourself stood by in case they needed help.

“s’it good, baby?” rafe whispered to rosy, smiling softly at her nod before pressing a gentle kiss to the chub of her soft cheek. unable to help himself, his calloused fingers pinched valentine’s identical chubby cheek, chuckling at her little grin.

it was clear to both of you that valentine was a leader, taking after rafe in that way. she always looked out for rosy. asking her questions that she could answer yes or no to, letting her parents know what her shy little sister wanted in case she didn’t want to speak. she was fiercely protective and intuitive, which is why you found that she often assessed your reactions with rafe. she loved her father, but you could tell she was having a harder time completely warming up to the man in front of her. meanwhile, rosy was more than happy to fulfill her role as a daddy’s girl. though it made you nervous for when rafe inevitably had to leave. you tried not to think about it, quickly putting on a smile. “what do you say to daddy, lovies?”

“tank you.”

“tank you, dada.”

rafe felt his breath catch in his throat for the twentieth time that morning. it meant more to him than he realized having them acknowledge something so little like breakfast. it was different than toys, a gift. this was time spent with their father, and they were thanking him. the blonde blinked, a wide smile eventually spreading across his pink lips. “you’re welcome. thanks for comin’ out with me today.” despite him looking at your daughters’, you knew the last part was directed towards you. quietly, you reached your left hand out, rafe finally noticing the promise ring he had given you at the height of his addiction adorning your ring finger. it was a smaller gemstone than he would’ve liked, but he knew you wouldn’t have appreciated something so flashy. he hadn’t seen it since your separation. your birthstone stared back at rafe, and immediately his right hand caught yours before you could change your mind.

the pair of you tensed up at the feeling of your hands meeting, before eventually relaxing once the initial sparks subsided. rafe gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand, travelling down to the ring he had given you in the bed of his old truck, parked at the beach all those years ago. it had been a final resort to keep you from leaving him, knowing he couldn’t do the right thing and let you go despite his addiction taking control of his life. rafe could feel the guilt beginning to swirl in his stomach, parting his lips before valentine giggled mischievously.

“mommy and daddy sittin’ in a tree-“ rafe froze, multiple scoldings halted at the hint of shyness that cloaked your giddy expression. you could believe how cheeky your daughters were being in public, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the fire engine red shade that burned atop your ex’s now bare ears.

rosy joined with a delighted laugh. “k-i-s-s-r-o-t.“ you both laughed at the misspelling, letting go of each others hands almost reluctantly. rafe chuckled again before kissing rosy’s head who giggled. your manicured fingers tickled valentine’s tummy playfully, the little girl squirming in delight at the feeling. the sight of your little family together like this had you wishing that it could feel like this all the time. like rafe had been there everyday since the twins came into this world. that he didn’t have to pull several strings to get a day off for the first time in months. you blinked back your approaching tears, hiding your bittersweet smile from behind your lukewarm oat chai.

after cleaning the girls’ up, and rafe admittedly buying too many treats for just the four of you to go- which you promised the girls as dessert that night despite their pleading- you were driving back to your house. it was a gorgeous day out. the sun not even at it’s peak yet despite the heat already making itself more than known to the residents of outer banks. your manicured nails flicked together in contemplation, the feelings of finality weighing heavily in the luxury car. you knew rafe wouldn’t push for more time today. it was a mutual understanding that he was on thin ice, and this visit would be on your terms, but would it be so wrong that you wanted him to stay?

“lovies, do you wanna have a pool day today?” the girls’ cheered before you could take it back. despite the underground pool that took over most of your backyard, you were terrified at the thought of the girls starting to learn how to swim. they were still so little in your mind. so you conceded, buying them a larger than normal pink kiddy pool in the shape of a heart for pool days. you figured this was something you should speak to rafe about, along with a number of things the quicker your girls’ seemed to grow up. while the toddlers talked amongst themselves, you hesitantly rested your hand on rafe’s shoulder at a red light, feeling the muscle tense before relaxing beneath your palm. “you can join too.” the blonde man turned to look at you then, flickering his eyes over your soft expression before nodding in agreement.

rafe stored the treats in your refrigerator while you got the girls’ dressed in their swimsuits. he had a pair of black swim shorts in the trunk of his car, leftover from when topper or kelce had decided they wanted to spontaneously go to the beach a few weeks ago. you had asked him to fill the pool up after he got dressed, which confused him at first, but now he could see the heart shaped kiddy pool about fifteen paces away from the actual pool. the man couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes half heartedly before he got to work.

once the pool was about halfway filled with lukewarm water- he’d be damned if his babies were cold- he heard the patio door slide open. rafe looked up, spotting the twins dressed in their matching frilly bathing suits with protective hairstyles. valentine’s was a pale teal colour, and rosy’s a vibrant magenta. rafe was ashamed to say he still got the twins mixed up until a few months ago, remedied after he had gifted them little gold necklaces with a ‘v’ and ‘r’ respectively. you had smiled softly at his admission, letting him know that the only way you were able to tell them apart at first was because wheezie had painted one of each of their toenails a different colour. rafe ignored the pang in his chest when you told him that. wishing he could’ve seen it. wishing that he could’ve looked up from his own reflection long enough to help you out more.

their little feet padded up to rafe, standing on either side of his knelt down form as he continued to hold the hose into the pool. rosy’s short fingers reached out to touch the stream of water, flinching away while hissing out a giggle at the funny feeling. rafe grinned, chuckling when valentine cutely dipped her spread out toes into the shallow water, her little hands keeping herself steady on rafe’s shoulder. suddenly, he heard the clacking of heeled sandals, whipping his head up towards the sound before his jaw dropped.

it wasn’t as if rafe hadn’t looked at you romantically since your separation. it was no question that you were the most sought after girl in the outer banks- before and after- the eldest cameron had finally managed to lock you down. he hadn’t slept with you- or anyone else believe it or not- since the breakup. the father of your children had only caught pg 13 moments of you when he was lucky. like a stray bra strap showing when the shoulder of your loose sweaters would fall, or the lace of your panties that had peaked out from beneath your mini skirts on more than one occasion. it had him fucking his fist as soon as he crossed the threshold of his home in a way he hadn’t since he first started puberty, but fuck. rafe really didn’t think you could get any more gorgeous, especially after having his twins. he was wrong. so, so wrong.

a stringy bikini left little to the imagination, revealing your rich complexion that glittered with some sort of oil. the bottom strings were tied high on your hips in bows, while the top was tied behind your neck and between your shoulder blades. you didn’t look exactly the same as you did before of course, but god you looked so much better to rafe. your tits were heavier for lack of a better term, and your bottom had filled out, more perky, rounder. the blonde wasn’t aware of what he was doing until valentine squealed, the hose water spraying her chubby legs rather than filling the pool. he swore softly under his breath, cursing to himself silently afterwards when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that in front of the girls. rafe gently pulled valentine further into the sun, giving her nose little butterfly kisses in apology before allowing her to hold the hose for him. rosy glued herself to rafe’s other side, her chubby arms wrapping behind his neck with her warm cheek pressing against his. the elder man smiled widely, wrapping his other arm around his youngest daughter before placing a kiss along her cheek.

unbeknownst to rafe, you weren’t fairing any better either. he had somehow filled out even more since the two of you had broken up. his skin was just as golden as it always had been, prompting his shaved blonde hair, strong bone structure dotted with golden stubble, and blue eyes to stand out that much more. his biceps bulged while he hugged your daughters, their little hands pressed against the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. you bit your bottom lip, sitting down on a stray poolside chair before calling out. “sweethearts. sunscreen time.”

“but mommy-“ valentine whined softly, her feet already dipped in the now filled up pool from where she stood inside of it. rafe stroked the little girl’s back, chiding her softly.

“c’mon now, listen to mommy.” your heart swelled. “we’ll make it quick.” your eldest grumbled half heartedly, her little humph morphing into an excited squeal when rafe playfully lifted her up with an exaggerated groan. both little girls on his hips cheered with delight, held six feet up in the air as if they weighed nothing.

oh god, you were done for.

“can you do mine, dada?” rosy asked sweetly, gently playing with his rope chain necklace from where she laid in the crook of his neck. rafe couldn’t stop his heart from melting, unable to deny his girls anything- unless you said so, of course. maybe.

“‘course i can, baby.” valentine reached out for you, rafe handing her off before sitting on the grassy ground in front of you. the other pool chair too far from you and val for his comfort. you bit your glossy bottom lip, giggling at the way your eldest squirmed at the cool feeling of the sunscreen. practically lifting all of her limbs at you like a spider monkey to somehow make the process go faster.

a few minutes later, rafe had gotten your youngest daughter pretty much covered besides her face, which he took his sweet time with. you furrowed your eyebrows at the way he applied the sun cream with his fingertips, rosy turned away from you. it wasn’t until he turned your youngest daughter around to reveal a little white nose and slightly messy kitten whiskers made from sunscreen, that you laughed louder than expected. valentine gasped, giggling along with you much to rosy’s confusion. quickly, you pulled out your phone, snapping a few too many pictures of your oblivious daughter and an amused rafe behind her. “i want one too!” valentine hopped off your lap, running to her father before presenting her already sun screened face.

you showed the pictures to a curious rosy while rafe got to work, giggling at her little gasp and toothy grin at the artwork on her face. after snapping “a few” more pictures of your little kittens, they ran off into the pool, toys of their choosing scattered throughout the water. you smiled at the way rafe didn’t take his eyes off of them, turning your chair horizontally much to his confusion. “c’mon, we can share it.” the blonde got up after a beat, sitting down while you stood above him. “d’you want a beer?”

a careful eyebrow raised itself on his handsome face. “you tryna’ get me drunk?” rafe naturally smirked when you rolled your eyes sexily, dragging his cerulean gaze up and down your perfect form while you walked back inside the house to get said beer.

soon, you returned with two small coolers filled with ice. the one you placed next to rafe had a few imported beers from mexico, and some drinks for yourself. the ones for your daughters next to their kitty pool held sippy cups of watered down juice, and little bottles of water.

handing an open beer to rafe, you sat next to him beneath the large umbrella above the pool chair. he thanked you, clinking your drinks for good luck before taking a sip. the pair of you sat quietly for a few moments, basking in the heat while watching your daughters play in their pool a few feet away. rafe scrunched his nose suddenly, stroking the back of his neck before leaning forwards- elbows to knees. “so uh.. tell me about your flower installations.”

you smiled softly, shrugging. “i don’t really know what to say. i..” rafe turned to look at you, admiring the way your expression softened when thinking about something that clearly brought you joy. you looked hopeful. such a contrast from the stoicism and defeat you exhibited when you were with him. “you remember topper’s ex girlfriend? ruthie?”

your ex scoffed out a laugh at that, sipping his beer before nodding. “yeah. i remember her.” amused giggles left your lips, reminiscing about how tumultuous their relationship had been when you were only teenagers.

“well, she invited me to her wedding two years ago-“

“no.” rafe laughed incredulously. “you went to that?” you hid your face in your left hand to mask your laughter, birthstone catching his eyes again. before he could overthink it, he nudged your thigh with his playfully. “kay. so after you watched her uncle kiss her cousin, what happened-?”

“oh god. i wasn’t there long enough for that. the girls were at my mom’s and rosy caught a cold somehow-“

“what?” rafe’s relaxed demeanour went rigid. you turned your focus to him, a sad smile painting your lips when you took in his reaction. “why didn’t you call me-?”

“i tried. your phone kept going to voicemail, so i called your assistant and they said you were on business, and that they would let you know i called.” rafe’s mouth fell agape, sighing irritatedly before pinching the bridge of his nose to will away his oncoming tension headache. he hadn’t been away for business. he had taken topper to his bahamas vacation house to drink away his sorrows like a sorority girl. he couldn’t believe- “but she was fine the next morning. the paediatrician told us it was only a twenty-four hour cold. so when you called back, i didn’t want to worry you-“

rafe grabbed your hand before he could stop himself, immediately softening his hold when you flinched out of habit. the elder man swallowed then, eyes filled with anguish before gradually tilting his head forwards to show you he meant no harm. “you don’t ever worry about worrying me, or bothering me. not when- not when it comes to the girls.. and- and especially not when it comes to you, a-a’ight-?“ he cut himself off while he was ahead, unsure of how to continue without ruining more than he already had. you set down your drink, pulling your smaller hand out of his grip softly much to his disappointment. shockingly though, your palms enveloped the sides of his face. rafe spared a look at you, afraid to even breathe at the risk of breaking the moment. as if it were the easiest decision of your life, you stroked the soft pad of your thumb over the approaching wrinkles along his forehead, softening the tension in his face as best you could. gently, you placed a feather soft kiss to the same area, eyes watering at the sound of the shaky breath that left the man who still held your heart after everything.

“i promise.”

the sound of ice pouring into water caught both of your attentions, snapping your heads towards the kitty pool that was now bobbing with ice cubes. valentine gently dropped the empty cooler on the grass, bottles fallen beside it. she placed her sunglasses over her eyes with a sigh before laying in the pool next to her sister- who looked equally as relaxed. your jaw dropped at the way their little arms rested behind their heads, unable to hold back your laughter after rafe commented incredulously. “there’s no way that just happened.”

you attempted to cover your mouth, but just couldn’t stop laughing. “in case you were unsure that val was yours-“

“that has you written all over it! are you kidding?” you knew rafe wasn’t mad despite his indignant tone, his smile threatening to take over his entire face. you giggled, even while standing up to reach for a beach umbrella behind you. “what’re you doing?”

“i’m just gonna go set this up by their little pool. they must be so hot-“ before you could even blink, rafe took the umbrella from your hands. you couldn’t help but stand there dumbly, your ex flicking his head back in the direction of the pool chair.

“relax. i got it, mama.” a red hot desire burst through your veins at how easily those words left his mouth, forgetting how slick it could be. as if that weren’t enough, rafe tucked his head down to place a chapped kiss along your cheekbone, already on his way to your daughters before you could register what had happened.

you could still feel rafe’s kiss on your cheek and his warm face beneath your palms even after he returned to your side. he sat closer to you this time, and you couldn’t believe how giddy you felt. especially after everything that had happened between you two since your first meeting at the country club as teenagers. you birthed his children for gods sake, but it felt as if you had just held hands on the playground for all your classmates to see. “i think they should start learning how to swim. what uh, what d’you think?”

you blinked, watching your girls who were as cool as cucumbers relaxing in their kiddy pool. “i’m afraid i’ve turned them into pool loungers and they wouldn’t like it.” rafe laughed at that, sipping his beer with a warm smile. the kids had lifted up their sunglasses momentarily at his arrival, pretending to be nonchalant but giggling madly when he attacked them with kisses after setting up their umbrella. “but we can try. maybe we could teach them next weekend in the big pool. the shallow end is only three feet.”

“yeah, yeah i can do that.” rafe nodded to himself. “i have a few meetings on friday, but i’ll clear my schedule for the weekend. that work for you?”

“you’d be able to get the whole weekend off?” you didn’t mean to sound disbelieving, but you also needed to make sure that rafe wasn’t making promises to your girls’ that he couldn’t keep. you had been down that road before, and they didn’t deserve that.

the eldest cameron sighed through his nose, quite literally shrugging off your concerns. “it’s my company. i should get the weekend off. simple as that.” you immediately raised a manicured brow at that. where was simple as that when you were deciding baby names? nursery colours? having cravings, morning sickness, giving birth, changing diapers, staying up for hours into the early morning when the twins wouldn’t stop crying? where was simple as that when he missed watching their first steps, hearing their first words, potty training? times two? but yes, the mountain of toys falling off their playroom shelves was enough consolation. two hours a week at most with their father was apparently enough. all the money in the world and he couldn’t tell them apart unless he was able to see the initials strung around their necks. “what?” rafe seemed genuinely confused at the way you shut down, and that was the worst of all. he genuinely couldn’t fathom how much of your life you had given to your children.

you were still so young when you had gotten pregnant. it happened during your year off after high school graduation, you hadn’t even been with rafe for a year, hadn’t even been legal enough to drink. still, ward- albeit geriatric- insisted, stating an abortion would be preposterous, and rafe listened to him. it was no question that you loved your children more than anything else in the world. you would never regret having them for a second. except you couldn’t believe that rafe had promised you he would be there for you, that he loved you, but still left you alone during the most difficult time of your life. all for ward. rafe was able to grow up. rafe was able to reinvent himself. rafe was able to leave when things got hard, and rafe was able to come back anytime he wanted because you let him.

“mommy? i need a towel. gotta go potty.” rosy tugged at your hand, lifting you out of your stupor. you snapped into action, picking up the fluffy pink towel behind you and drying your daughter off as quickly as you could.

“do you need me to come with you?”

rosy shook her head, already running into the house as fast as her legs could carry her. “no. i gotta pee!”

rafe chuckled from behind his beer, but you didn’t see anything funny about the possibility of your daughter having an accident. “where’re you going? she said she’s fine-“

“she could’ve had an accident, and i’m not making her walk out here to tell me. i need you to watch val.” you both turned to catch the girl quickly looking away from your conversation, resuming playing with her toys. “i think you can manage that much.”

“hey-“ rafe’s larger hand just managed to grab your wrist, but you pulled it away twice as rough, moving back a few steps. the man opposite to you immediately stood up, his once intimidating height appearing smaller and smaller the more you let yourself think about the past few years. confusion bled into his hurt expression, his hushed irritation only adding to your turmoil. “c’mon. what’s going on-?”

“you-“ you lowered your voice suddenly to keep val from hearing you. cursing yourself for how it wobbled with tears, teetering on the edge of a sob. rafe could only watch helplessly. that’s all he’s ever been able to do. “you choose when you come and go. you get to break promis-es.” a wet hiccup left your lips, quickly cut off by your shaking left hand. your ‘promise ring’ felt more like a shackle with everyday you spent apart from the man in front of you. rafe’s mouth fell agape, taken aback at how quickly everything had shifted. a watery smile drew itself over your trembling lips, doe eyes staring up at the man in front of you with an eerie sense of glee that withered away the longer they did. “but time is a thief, and he’s robbing you blind, rafe.” rafe swallowed dryly, twisting his face and shifting on his feet before his fail safe expression made an appearance. every feature of his, especially the ones your daughters’ shared, became devoid of any kind of emotion. you sniffled pitifully, wanting to curse yourself for being so stupid. for believing that he loved you despite his first reaction being aloof condescension at the discovery of your achievements. for believing that he abandoned you and the children he forced you to bring into this world because he had no other choice. for believing him about anything. “no amount of money in this world will ever be able to change that.”

with that, you dashed into the house after rosy, missing the way rafe’s stoic expression crumbled behind you.

[elitisim]

The beginning of September means the beginning of spooky season; and what's more spooky than a mystery box?

WHAT'S IN THE BOX?!:

Dunno¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Could be anything. Hairs, patterns, accessories, clothes, objects; anything’s up for grabs! It’s a mystery!

[DOWNLOAD HERE]

Or if you're boring and not fun, the credits, preview pictures, links to originals, polycounts and individual download links for everything is under the cut.

Hello cowards😒.

So, let's spoil the surprise for anyone for everyone who clearly hates fun, in today's mystery box you're getting 4 clothing items, 3 female hairs, 2 male hairs, a wallpaper set and an object set.

Mystery Item 1: BACKTRACK - LOW RISE JEAN SKIRT

All credits goes to @backtrack-cc! Original here

Bottom for For YA-A Females

Categories: Everyday, Formal, Career,

5.6k Poly

Fully Recolorable - 4 Channels

4 Fully Recolorable Swatches (Plain, Stars, skull hands and y2k)

Custom Thumbnail

Enabled for Maternity, Disabled for Random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 2: GORILLAX3 - Oversized Cargo Jeans

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @gorillax3! Original here

Bottom for For YA-A Females

Categories: Everyday, Formal, Career, Outerwear

6.6k Ploys

Fully Recolorable - 4 Channels

1 Fully Recolorable Swatch + 9 Non-Recolorables

Custom Thumbnail

Enabled for Maternity, Disabled for Random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 3: Gorillax3 - Oversized Cargo Jeans w/ belt & Gorillax3 - Crop T-Shirt

GORILLAX3 - Oversized Cargo Jeans

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @gorillax3! Original here

Bottom for For YA-A Males

Categories: Everyday, Formal, Career, Outerwear

6.2k Poly

Fully Recolorable - 4 Channels

1 Fully Recolorable Swatch+ 9 Semi-Recolorables

Custom Thumbnail

All LODS and Morphs Including Maternity, Disabled for Random

Not to be confused with Gorillax3's Loose Jeans, converted by @frostedshore [HERE], they're different they just have the same belt, lol.

I hit the image limit on this post, so no previews, but swatches are exactly the same as the female oversized cargos pictured above.

[DOWNLOAD]

GORILLAX3 - Cropped T-shirt

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @gorillax3! Original here

Top for For YA-A Males

Categories: Everyday, Formal, Career, Outerwear

4.2k Poly

Fully Recolorable - 2-3 channels

12 Fully Recolorable Swatches

Custom Thumbnail

All LODS, All Morphs including Maternity, Disabled for Random

none of these are gorilla's OG swatches💔, sorry I made them for a specific sim with no real intent to share, but someone on discord asked about them when I posted pictures

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 5: SheaButtyr - Lamont Locs

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @sheabuttyr! Original here!

Hair for Teen ➤ Elder Males

19.3k Poly

2048x texture

Texture: sheabuttyr

Custom Thumbnail, All LODS, disabled for random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 6: EBONIXSIMS - OLADE LOCS

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @ebonixsims! Original here!

Hair for Teen ➤ Elder Males

VERY HIGH POLY! 30.2K!

Found Under Hats

Fully Recolorable rubber bands - 4 channels

Due to how the mesh was made, it doesn't have tip controls; only root, base and highlights.

2048x texture

Texture: ebonixsims

Custom Thumbnail, All LODS, disabled for random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 7: Simplicity - ALYSSA HAIR

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @simpliciaty-cc! Original here!

Hair for Teen ➤ Elder Females

19.8k Poly

1024x texture

Texture: simplicity

Custom Thumbnail, All LODS, disabled for random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 8: Simplicity -DIARA HAIR

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @simpliciaty-cc! Original here!

Hair for Teen ➤ Elder Females

22.9k poly

1024x texture

Texture: Simplicity

Custom Thumbnail, All LODS, disabled for random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 9: XXBLACKSIMS - CURLY BRAIDS

NOT my original work! Mesh and Texture credit to @xxblacksims! Original here!

Hair for Teen ➤ Elder Females

High Poly - 26.4k

1024x texture

Texture: xxblacksims

Custom Thumbnail, All LODS, disabled for random

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 9: @myshunosun's Bastvik Bedroom!

Low-poly meshes: all meshes are less than 1k most being under 500!

Beds sold separately: The beds are just frames, no mattress or bedding included

The beds in TS4 are much lower than ts3 beds, so I recommend a shiftable mattress

[ATS' Tiny House Duvets] and sketchbookpixel's [shiftable single] and [shiftable double mattress] are my personal favorites.

Toddler bed was made with @deniisu-sims [Base Game Toddler Mattresses] in mind.

Vanity disappears when the dresser functions of it are used, but it's fine otherwise.

Bastvik Double Bed Frame: 498 Polys| 2 channels | Found under Beds| §165 |

Bastvik Single Bed Frame: 498 Polys| 2 channels | Found under Beds| §165 |

Bastvik Toddler Bed Frame: 288 Polys| 2 channels | Found in Comfort under Beds| §165 |

Bastvik Dresser: 272 Polys | 2 channels | Found in Storage under Dressers | §198 |

Bastvik Nightstand: 136 Polys | 2 channels | Found in Surfaces under Endtables | §78 |

Bastvik Stool: 88 Polys | 2 channels | Found in Seating under Dining Chairs | §33 |

Bastvik Vanity : 611 Polys | 2 channels | Functional as Vanity |Found in Storage under Dressers| Disappears when used as Dresser but fine otherwise | §198 |

[DOWNLOAD]

Mystery Item 10: Dk-sims Mega Wall Set

NOT my original work! Texture credit to @dk-sims! Original Here!

5 walls all together

Priced at $3 each under paint category

Fully Recolorable - 2-4 Channels depending on the Wall

[DOWNLOAD]

Tagging: @pis3update, @naturalhair-sims3, @xto3conversionsfinds, @kpccfinds

[moralesmilesanhour]

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission: 

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did. 

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face. 

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation. 

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’. 

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register. 

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration. 

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap. 

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully. 

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?” 

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness? 

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register. 

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” 

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet. 

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

-

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap. 

-

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it. 

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown. 

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

You tap your nails on the table, thinking. 

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too. 

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face. 

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother. 

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

[goldenbtrfly]

Family Home - Tan

Family Home Tan - No CC - Under 25k

I realized I hadn’t cross-posted this home to Tumblr yet, so I figured I should. :) If something is messed up, please let me know!

Here we have another Family Home, as usual under 25k in price and designed to house a full family - in this case a family of 5. Built in the mind-frame of three teens and parents living here, each teen (or child) has their own bedroom - complete with desk for homework! The kitchen is small, but functional and there are two full bathrooms to use (one with a shower and one with a tub). The living room has ample space to move around and watch TV, and even has an extra desk (perhaps for a computer). Pictures of the kids bedrooms are taken in twos - mainly because this wallpaper cuts off at the top and I wanted to show that I did use edged paper.

I hope your Sims enjoy this as much as I did building it. I really like this one.

This home has:

4 bedrooms.

2 full baths (one with a shower and one with a tub).

Fire alarm, burglar alarm, and phone.

Minimal landscaping to keep the cost inside rather than outside!

No CC was used, but all EPs/SPs are installed.

Lot Size: 2x2 Lot Price (furnished): 24988

Additional Credits: Thank you: joandsarah77 for the lot and the Community Spirit Contest, which have both greatly improved my creativity!

Download at SimFileShare or MTS. More pictures below!

[sequinsmile-x]

Hide Beside Me

Emily shares her oldest secret with Aaron. A few years later, that secret resurfaces.

Part 3/3 (Part 1, Part 2)

-x-

Hi besties <3

Thanks so much for all the love on this fic, it truly means the world. I really hope you like this last part.

Fair warning, I made myself cry when writing this - and I could count on one hand the number of times that's happened in 375 fics.

I hope you like this, and please, always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, teen pregnancy, abortion, adoption, forced adoption

Words: 5.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She invites Rebecca to come over to the house just three days after she unexpectedly showed up on the doorstep and back into Emily’s life.

Emily goes back and forth on it, wonders if seeing the evidence of the family she had, the children she’d kept, would be hard for her to take, but Aaron talks her down. Assures her if she had a problem with it she would have said something, especially since Rebecca had seen Rose and Issac and therefore knew Emily had kids. 

She finds herself watching the time, tapping the screen of her phone to illuminate it every time it goes black, seconds feeling like hours and minutes like days. The only thing that keeps her even vaguely grounded is the picture of Jack, Rose and Issac as her wallpaper. It was a picture Aaron had taken in the hospital just 6 months ago when Issac was born. Jack and Rose were sitting next to each other, the little girl’s face pinched together in concentration as she listened carefully to Jack as he told her how to hold the baby lying across both their laps, Emily’s hand in the shot as she supported her newborn's head.

Emily sighs as she hears Aaron step into the living room, his familiar footfall a comfort until he comes to a stop and leans over the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head. 

“What if she doesn’t come?”

He kisses her head again, making sure he lingers this time, his hands squeezing her shoulders in a way he hopes she finds comfort in, “She got in touch with you, Em,” he says, “She wants to know you. She’ll come.” 

She hums, swallowing thickly as she tries to push down everything she isn’t sure she wants to feel, “What if…” 

He rounds the couch and sits next to her as she drifts off, hooking his thumb under her chin to encourage her to look up at him, “What if what, sweetheart?” 

She smiles tightly, her lips pressed together to stop the shake to them as they hear a car pull up onto the driveway, her hand seeking his out to link their fingers together, “What if I’m a disappointment to her? Depending on how long she’s known about me, she might have been building the thought of me up for years.” 

He hates what this has done to her, how a decision her mother and other adults had made without including her long before he’d ever known her had torn down her confidence like this. He pushes it away, knowing she doesn’t need the anger he felt on her behalf, certainly not now when she was on the brink of getting to know the child she’d had to give away. She needed his love. His support. The reminder of all that she had now. 

And those were things he would make sure she always had in abundance. 

“That’s just not possible,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, letting her sink against him when they hear footsteps on the steps leading up to the porch, “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She’ll see that too.” He says, and she smiles, something that fades when the doorbell rings, “Want me to get the door?” 

She shakes her head and presses her forehead against his, trying to take some of his strength through osmosis one last time before she stands up.

“I can do it,” she says, wiping lint that isn’t there from the thighs of her jeans as she stands up, desperate to keep her hands busy so she doesn’t tear her cuticles up or twist her wedding rings around so much she’d risk losing them. When she makes it to the door, she blows out a breath and gives herself a moment, her hand tight around the door handle before she opens it, her smile shaky as she stands back, “Rebecca, hi. Come in.” 

Rebecca smiles at her, her expression equally as shaky, her hands tight around the handles of her purse as it hung over her shoulder, “Thank you,” she says, looking around as she steps into the house, turning to look at her when she closes the door, “You have a lovely home.” 

“Thank you,” Emily says, as she leads her towards the living room, heaving in a deep breath as they walk towards Aaron. His eyebrows raise as he looks at the two of them together, the resemblance uncanny apart from Rebecca’s blonde hair, and it takes him aback for a moment, leaves him frozen on the spot until Emily clears her throat and draws him out of it, “This is my husband, Aaron,” her breath is shaky as she carries on, “Aaron…this is Rebecca.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, “Would you like something to drink?” 

She smiles, his wife’s smile, “A coffee would be great.” 

“Coffee it is,” he squeezes Emily’s shoulder, “The usual, sweetheart?” 

She smiles up at him and nods, “Yes, please.” 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

He leaves the room, and Emily realises she and Rebecca are still both standing up. She points towards the couch, “Please sit down,” she says, and she sits when Rebecca does, making sure to put space between them, to not cross any boundaries the other woman may have in place. She’s sure if she touched her, if she hugged her, she’d never want to let go. 

“So,” Rebecca says, her eyes fixed on the door Aaron had walked out of, “Is Aaron my…”

It takes a second for what she’s asking, the question she can’t finish, to register and Emily shakes her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, “No, he’s not. We met at work,” she says, “Your…he’s called John. I’m not in touch with him, but I have his contact information if you want it.” 

Rebecca smiles, a sad tinge to it as she looks down at her hands, “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I want it.” 

The silence between them is thick. Not uncomfortable, or tense, but full of everything they both want to say even though neither of them know where to start. Emily clears her throat, feeling a sense of responsibility to go first, a weight that was heavy on her chest as she looks across at the woman whose face she’d spent the best part of her life trying to picture. 

“Do your parents know you’ve come to see me?” She asks, oddly okay with referring to other people as her parents. She was her mother. She’d brought her into the world and loved her ever since, but she wasn’t her parent. She’d never been given the chance to be. 

“They know,” Rebecca says, smiling properly, her dimples making their first appearance, “They actually encouraged me to do this,” she stops for a moment when Aaron steps into the room and passes her a cup of coffee and Emily a cup of tea. Rebecca thanks him as he sits next to Emily and places his hand on her knee, “I’ve always known I was adopted.” 

Emily furrows her brow at that, not sure if she was relieved or not by the revelation, “Oh?” 

Rebecca nods, her grip tight on the mug in her hands, “As long as I’ve been old enough to know what it means, I’ve known,” she says, “Mom and Dad struggled to have kids, which is why they adopted me. Then a few years later they had my brother naturally,” she laughs when she says it, in-jokes with her family that Emily wasn’t party to shining in her eyes, “Even if my parent’s hadn’t been upfront about it all I think I would have caught on eventually, they all have blue eyes and blonde hair,” she tucks some of her dyed hair behind her ear as she says it, “I’ve never known anyone who looks like me, until now,” she looks up at Emily and then around the room, her eyes catching on family photos hanging on the wall, “It’s weirdly unsettling,” she jokes, drawing a laugh out of both Emily and Aaron. “I’ve had a good life. And loving parents. I…on the way here I was thinking of what I’d want to know if I were you, and that’s the thing I kept thinking of.” 

Emily blows out a breath, her vision going blurry as she tries to stop the tears from falling, her eyes burning with them, “I’m glad. I’m really glad.” 

“I also think it’s important you know I’ve never been mad at you, or angry,” she says, tears filling her eyes too, “I’ve also always known you were young when you had me,” she smiles sadly, “When I turned 15 it was the first thing I thought about. And every year since it’s just felt younger than the year before. You did the best thing you could.” 

Emily grips Aaron’s hand, her grip on him so tight he feels his knuckles knock together, and she sucks in a shaky breath, tears that she immediately wipes away slipping past her lashline.

“Thats…thank you.” She wasn’t aware how much she’d needed to hear it from Rebecca herself until she did. A burden she’d carried for years suddenly lighter, a space in her chest she hadn’t known existed opening up so she could breathe a little deeper, “What made you come looking for me?” 

Rebbeca sucks in a deep breath, “That’s…a bit of a crazy story.” 

“Oh, if you don’t want to-”

“No, I want to,” she assures her, cutting over Emily’s panicked retraction of her question, “I just…” she looks between the two of them, “Don’t want to upset you.” 

Emily furrows her brows, confusion and something close to dread flooding through her, her cheeks burning with it as she leans into Aaron’s side, “You can tell me. I won’t be upset, I promise.” 

Rebecca sucks in a breath, “I always thought about it. I wanted to know more about where I came from than the small amount of information my parents were given from the place where I was born. But I also never wanted to intrude on your life,” she tucks some of her hair behind her ear again, drawing attention to her torn-up cuticles, “I was well aware I could be nothing but a reminder of the worst part of your life. And then…I saw an obituary for you in the paper.” 

Emily gasps, her eyes screwed shut as she clenches her jaw, “Oh, god. I’m…” she clears her throat and looks up at her, “That’s so complicated. I’m so sorry.” 

Rebecca shakes her head, “Please don’t apologise. As soon as I saw it, I regretted never reaching out to you. I grieved everything we could have had. I moved forward,” her smile turns sad, “I probably paid for my therapist's vacation that year with the number of sessions I had,” she looks down at her hands, and Emily is grateful for it, grateful for a moment to wipe away a tear, to shift impossibly closer to Aaron, his hold her as tight as she’d ever known it to be, “And I learnt how to be okay with it all. Then, a few weeks ago I saw a picture of you in the paper. At first, I thought it was a memorial-type thing, but then I read the article. It was about a case at Interpol and you were the spokesperson. It felt like a second chance. So I came to find you.” 

Emily nods, her chest aching with the sobs she was keeping in there, emotions she wouldn’t set free until it was just her and Aaron in the house, “I’m glad you did. I’m so glad you did. And one day…if you want, I’ll explain all of that to you,” she offers her a half smile, “Or at least, as much as I legally can.” 

Rebbeca smiles before she presses her lips together, a question she’d had for years on the tip of her tongue. 

“Did you ever think of looking for me?” She asks, and Emily feels Aaron squeeze her hand, a brief moment of comfort as he continues to be a silent bystander, understanding the support she needs without her even having to ask for it. 

“I did,” she replies, “I wrote letters at first, when I was still a teenager, but my mom kept having them intercepted. For a long time I just…pretended it all happened to someone else because it was easier,” she answers honestly, “And then, when I finally felt able to look for you it felt selfish. I didn’t want to intrude on anything.” 

It’s half the truth, the other half feeling too complicated to explain. By the time she was working for Interpol, she decided to leave Sophia, Rebecca, alone to keep her safe. Well aware that if anyone knew of her existence it could be used against her. It was a decision she stood by when Ian eventually would hunt her down, glad he had no idea of her biggest secret other than him, that whilst she’d failed everything else she’d been able to keep her daughter safe. Even if she had ended up grieving for her despite never knowing her. 

Rebecca nods, “I can understand that. You’d have always been welcome though,” she says, smiling, “Mom and Dad want to meet you, if you’d like. Eventually. And my girlfriend,” her smile gets wider, “When I told them you have kids, that I have little brothers and a sister, they all got really excited. But I want to get to know you first.” 

It sparks hope deep in her chest, but she doesn’t quite allow it to catch yet. Rebecca wanted to know her. To have this be more than just one meeting to answer some questions, “I’d like that,” she says, turning to look at Aaron for a moment before she looks back at Rebecca, “We’d like that.” 

“They aren’t here?”

“The kids?” Emily asks, and Rebecca nods in response, “No, they are with their Aunt Jess today,” she says, “But I’d love you to meet them if you want to.”

She’d have to explain first, and figure out a way of making it appropriate for Jack and Rose, Issac being too young to understand it at all. If Rebecca was going to be in her life, in their lives, Emily wanted it to be as her daughter. Not wanting more secrets and lies to cloud her life now it was as clear as it had ever been. 

Rebecca nods, “Of course I’d love to,” she smiles, “What are their names?” 

“Jack is our eldest,” Emily says, not feeling the need to explain any further than that right now. Jack’s history was his to share, and he’d taken to introducing her as his mom to new friends lately, no longer explaining that she was his stepmom. When she’d asked him about it, he said he preferred it this way. That whilst he loved his mom, and he missed her and always would, he hated being the kid whose mom had died, that it was a label that never went away, “And then we have Rose and Issac who you saw the other day.” 

“They’re adorable.” 

“Thank you,” Emily says, “We think so too. Do you have any other questions? I’ll answer anything.”

“Just one, for now,” Rebecca says, placing her cup of coffee down, “And I know it sounds juvenile, but I’ve wanted to ask you this for years,” she stands up, and steps towards her, her arms awkward at her side as they twitch, and Emily knows what she’s going to say before she says it, and she makes a point of passing her cup of tea to Aaron in preparation, “Can I have a hug?” 

Emily’s on her feet in an instant, the crack in Rebecca’s voice making her want to do nothing other an cross the gap between them, “Of course you can.” 

She pulls her into a hug, and it’s like two things are happening at once. She’s 15 again, holding her baby tight, desperately trying to remember everything about her, whispering a lifetime of love against her forehead as she counted down the seconds until she had to let go. She’s also 45, hugging her 30-year-old daughter, the once tiny baby now slightly taller than her, a grown woman who had lived a whole life without her. Everything was different - including the fact that this time when she let her go, it wouldn’t be the last time she got to hold her. 

What she doesn’t know until later, is that Aaron takes a picture of them wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Their arms tight around each other, tears on both of their faces as they try and take in as much as they both could after a lifetime of separation. 

He prints it for her and hangs it on the wall amongst the rest of their family photos, a sign of the start of a new beginning she’d convinced herself she’d never get. 

___

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” 

Emily smiles as she turns to look at her husband, Issac on his hip as they both stand in the foyer of their home. She walks over and kisses Issac’s forehead and then Aaron’s lips, “I think I need to do this part myself, honey,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “This is a conversation I’ve needed for years.” 

He sighs, clearly holding back his disagreement, his dislike of her mother’s treatment of her not something he was shy about, “If she says anything-”

“I’ll call you and you can come over and yell at her,” she promises him, kissing him one more time, “If Rebecca…she’s going to be in our lives. I’m not going to pretend she isn’t mine to anyone,” she swallows thickly, “And that starts with talking to my mother about her.” 

They’d never discussed it. Not once. When Emily met her in Russia, still wearing a diaper and pads in her bra whilst her milk dried up, Elizabeth hadn’t said anything. She’d acted like her daughter had been at a summer school, nothing more, and they carried on as if nothing had happened. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her, “We’ll be here when you get back.” 

She nods, blowing out a shaky breath as she kisses Issac, pressing her forehead against his temple, “I wouldn’t be mad if you ignored bedtime tonight.”

Aaron smiles, already having planned on letting the kids stay up, no matter how much it would mess with their routine for one night, knowing Emily would need to see them, to hold them, when she got home. 

“Consider it done.” 

The drive to her mother’s house has never felt quicker. Traffic was frustratingly on her side, each light green as she wishes for the journey to drag out, wanting more time to figure out what she wants to say. 

Elizabeth is surprised to see her when she arrives, but only makes one comment about being busy, a mercy that Emily is sure doesn’t come from being able to read her body language. Her housekeeper brings them both a glass of wine as they make polite small talk, and Elizabeth eventually clears her throat. 

“So, what are you doing here, Emily?” She asks, her eyebrow raised at her, “It’s not like you to drop by unannounced.” 

Despite planning it all out in her head, any attempt to practise this conversation disappears in a second. She takes a sip of wine and then sucks in a breath, three words summing up how her life had changed so dramatically in the last couple of weeks. “She found me.” 

Elizabeth’s shoulders tighten, her grip on her wine glass briefly tighter as she takes a large sip, the gulp of it audible, cutting across the tense silence between mother and daughter, “Who did?” 

Emily presses her lips together, holding back 30 years worth of anger and swallowing it back down, knowing it would do no good to air it all now, “The baby you had taken away from me 30 years ago,” she says, staring at her mother as she looks down at the table to avoid her gaze, “She found me. Her name is Rebecca.” 

“Emily-”

“You never gave me a choice,” she says, cutting off whatever her mother was going to say, not sure she could take hearing it, “I wasn’t given a choice.”

“You made a choice when you had sex, Emily,” Elizabeth says, making Emily scoff and shake her head, “If Rose ever-”

“If God forbid Rose ever finds herself pregnant at 15, or 18 or hell even if it happens when she’s 30 and has an asshole for a partner who leaves her in the lurch, I will make sure she knows what all of her choices are,” she says, her jaw tight as she wipes away a stray tear, “And I’ll hold her hand through whatever she chooses to do,” she blows out a shaky breath and chokes on a sad laugh, “I always knew it was cruel when those people you sent me too ripped my baby away from me after a few minutes, even then I knew, but I only realised how cruel it was when I had Rose.” 

“Emily-”

“When they tried to take her from me, when they were simply trying to take her to the other side of the room to clean her off and weigh her I couldn’t let go. Aaron ended up having to promise me that he’d go over there with her and that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Did you know that?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, they both know it, because they’ve never talked about any of this before, “No. I didn’t.”

“When Rose was born she cried so loudly the doctor made a joke about it, and then when she laid her on my chest she stopped. We kind of just…looked at each other and she stopped crying. When she was on the other end of the room she was crying again, she only stopped when Aaron brought her back over to me and I just kept thinking…did Sophia cry when they took her away from me?” 

Elizabeth furrows her brow, “Sophia?” 

Emily sighs and swallows thickly, internally cursing herself for letting it slip, “Rebecca. Sorry. Sophia was…” she clears her throat, “That was the name I gave her.” 

“I didn’t know you did that.”

Emily smiles sadly, “Yeah, well. We’ve never spoken about it, have we?” 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” 

“Because we’re working towards being part of each other's lives more permanently,” she says, blowing out a breath, “And it will take some time to learn about each other, but we both want it. We both want to make up for lost time, and I will not lie to the world anymore. I won’t say she’s my cousin or my long-lost sister. She’s my daughter and that’s how I’ll introduce her to people.” 

Elizabeth’s eyes go wide, “Emily, what will people think?” 

She scoffs, “Other than question the fact you sent your daughter to a home that has been condemned in every way possible in the press since?” She shrugs, “I don’t care, Mom. I spent so long caring about what people would think of me. But she’s beautiful. And smart. And I’m proud of her, even if I don’t have any right to be. So I refuse to let shame take any more away from me than it already has,” she stands up and wipes tears from her cheeks, “You can carry on being a part of my family if you’d like. But I won’t hide her away to satisfy some old need of yours to maintain appearances.” 

She walks away, determined to leave, to get home to her family, but she’s stopped by her mother, “Emily.” 

She turns and sighs, “Yes, Mother?” 

“If she’s anything like you,” she says, clearing her throat, not able to look her in the eye, any softness between the two of them always hard for them both, so different to the sharp edges of their relationship that they were used to, “You have every right to be proud.” 

___

Six Months Later

The house is busting at the seams. 

She can hear all the conversation outside, the sound of it filtering through the open window in Issac’s room as she walks in, smiling when he’s stood up in his crib, his arms already up and waiting for her. 

“Mama!” 

“Hi Zaccy,” she says, walking over and lifting him into her arms. She kisses his cheek several times, chasing his precious laughter, “You know, as you get older, it’s not acceptable to take a nap in the middle of your own birthday party,” she says, settling him onto her hip, “So enjoy it whilst it lasts, sweet boy.” She couldn’t believe he was one. That her youngest baby was a toddler now, that he was close to walking and could say Mama and Dadda and a sound they think means Jack. Time had flown by too quickly for her liking, as it always did, and despite her age, and her insistence when she was pregnant with him that he’d be their last, she found herself wondering if maybe one more kid couldn’t be the end of the world. “Let’s go join the party, huh?” 

She walks downstairs with him in her arms, listening to his chatter as they go, and the doorbell rings as she makes it to the bottom of the stairs. She answers the door, her heart growing in her chest when she sees Rebecca and her girlfriend, Carrie, on the doorstep.

It still surprised her sometimes that she could do this. That her eldest could come to events like this and that she wanted to. 

Everyone knew about Rebecca now. When she told the team, the empathy and sympathy had been a little hard to take all at once. A wave of other people's emotions as they thought about what she’d been through exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. Aaron had kept her afloat. His arm around her shoulders as he answered most of their questions, as he held her tighter when Penelope tried to hug her, his expression clearly saying not now in a way she’d thankfully taken note of. They’d accepted Rebecca into their lives with open arms, making her another part of the family they’d built for themselves. 

“Hi,” Emily says, pulling Rebbeca into a hug first, and then Carrie, “I’m so glad you made it.” 

“Of course we did,” Rebbeca says, smiling when Issac reaches out and wraps his hand in her dark hair, “We wouldn’t miss Zac’s birthday, would we?” She tickles his belly and he reaches out for her, and she takes him, settling him on her hip. “Mom and Dad send their apologies,” she says, “But they also sent a massive gift for Zac.”

Emily smiles as she takes the offered gift bag, “I’ll make sure to text your mom to say thank you, they really didn’t have to get him anything.”

Rebecca chuckles, “I’ll leave you to have that conversation with her.” 

The first time she met Rebecca’s parents, Eleanor and John Mount, was as emotional as her first meeting with Rebecca. Eleanor had pulled her into a fierce hug, and held her close as if she was still the teenager who had given birth to their daughter, and John had done the same. They’d brought her a massive photo album, a book so heavy it had to be held with two hands, full of pictures of every moment of Rebecca’s life. 

She looked through it frequently, trying to commit everything she hadn’t been able to see happen to memory. Smiling as Aaron looked at it over her shoulder, never failing to comment on how much Rebecca looked like Rose when she was her age. 

“Everyone is in the back,” Emily says, ushering them in and closing the door behind them, the sight of her oldest and her youngest together something she wasn’t quite used to. 

Telling the kids about Rebecca, and who she was, was the part Emily had been scared of the most. Unsure how to tell them, how to answer questions she was sure they’d have, their curiosity that she usually loved bound to be her downfall. They’d taken in their stride. Jack was the one who understood the most being the oldest, and he’d been excited to meet Rebecca, claiming he’d always wanted a big sister. Emily wasn’t sure how much Rose understood, but she loved Rebecca too, and Emily knew there would eventually be a time when neither she nor Issac remembered life without her. 

In her worst moments, that made her jealous of her children. She wished she could only remember what it was like now - that the pain she’d gone through for decades wasn’t so visceral she could still feel it, but she knew she couldn’t undo anything. And that, if given the choice, she’s not sure she would. She didn’t believe in fate, and didn’t like to think that the universe was in charge of her life. She’d fought for what she had now. For the family she loved. And she wouldn’t want it to be any different than it was.

It was messy. Complicated. A picture made of broken pieces, glued back together with time and love and purpose. But it was hers, and because of that, it was beautiful. 

“Becca!”

They all turn to see Rose running towards them, her arms tight around Rebecca’s legs as she throws herself at her. Rebecca laughs and runs her fingers through her hair, “Hi Rosie-Posie.”

“Come play with us,” Rose demands, holding Rebecca’s spare hand, the other still securing Issac to her, and Carrie’s as she drags them towards the backyard. Emily watches them go, blowing out a slow breath as she twists her rings around her finger.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She turns to look at Aaron, smiling at the sight of him in their messy living room, bags of gifts and wrapping paper everywhere, “I’m okay,” she assures him, holding her hand out, her smile getting wider when he walks over and grabs it, linking his fingers through hers, “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have them all, and how lucky I am to have you.” 

He kisses her temple and they walk towards the backyard, “We’re the lucky ones.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, but her response is cut off when she hears laughter as they step out into the yard. Rebecca is sitting on one of the swings of their swing set, Issac on her lap as she gently swings them back and forth. Rose is on the swing next to her being pushed by Jack. She’s overwhelmed by it, by the image of all four of her kids together laughing and having fun. She’s about to ask Aaron to take a photo, her own phone somewhere inside the house, placed down as she tried to organise her son’s birthday party and all the food they’d made for their guests.  She doesn’t think she’s ever loved her husband more than when she sees he’s already doing it, taking dozens of pictures so she’d have a choice of her favourite. 

“Can you send those to me?” She asks, and he nods, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“Already on the way to you, sweetheart.” 

She squeezes his hand and goes in search of her phone. She sets one of the pictures as her wallpaper immediately, making sure she had a reminder every time she looked at her phone of what she had now. Of what she’d lost and regained. There were times when she wished more than anything she could speak to her 15-year-old self, that she could tell her everything would be okay in the end. That she’d know her daughter. That she’d have a family with the love of her life. Most of the time, she was glad that she couldn’t. Sure that the person she was now wouldn’t exist if she had known what was to come. 

The future was a gift to the young, the path laid out before them a mystery they must walk. 

“Mom,” Rebecca calls into the kitchen, her smile wide as her eyes meet Emily’s, “Rosie is demanding you join her on the swings.” 

She nods and looks down at her phone one more time before she tucks it into her pocket, “I’m coming, honey.” 

[fallenangelics]

Hiding From The Missus

PAIRING | Alastor/Angel Dust

WORD COUNT | 1456

SUMMARY | After seven years of silence, Angel Dust had finally gotten word of a familiar someone showing their face again. Going to where all clues point, he's met with some surprises before finally finding what he had been after.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply, Overlord Angel Dust AU, Established Relationship

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff. @minidust093 loosely inspired this fic. I had already had the idea when I saw some of their amazing art so I just wanted to tag them so that anyone reading this could go and check them out.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | Grabbed By The Chin

AO3 LINK | Read Here

The suit that Angel Dust wore was fitted to the curves and extra arms of his body. Though it wasn’t uncomfortable, as he walked across the pentagram it made him miss the loosness of his favoured dress. It didn’t matter though as he didn’t plan on spending too much time out, just a quick stop by one of the new establishments under the guise of scoping it out before he could return to his luxurious house.

Treading up the small hill near the end of the pentagram, Angel’s eyes fell on the large building at the top of it. Ghosting his eyes across the overly red building, he took in all of the extra renovations it had undertaken, such as the pirate ship that stuck from one side of the building and the radio tower that was spiralling out. His eyes stayed locked on the radio tower for the remainder of his walk, all the way up until he was knocking on the door and could hear the footsteps of someone coming to greet him.

“Hello,” A short blonde woman cheered excitedly as she threw open the door, staring up at Angel with stars in her eyes. Something in the back of Angel’s mind was itching at him, telling him he had seen her face before but he couldn’t quite place a finger on it. “And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You’re Angel Dust, the Mafia Demon, right? Are you here to begin your path to redemption?”

“Ehh, not quite,” Angel spoke with as little enthusiasm as he could muster, having seven years of excitement sucked out of him just from the display he witnessed. Deflating slightly, the blonde woman still looked at him with a radiating sense of joy that Angel couldn’t help but wonder where she stored it. “I’m here for other reasons. Think of this as a business opportunity.”

“That’s great,” She exclaimed, shoving the door open wider to invite him in. With a hand reaching out, one of the blonde woman's hands latched onto Angel’s making him flinch back at the sudden contact. It wasn’t every day that people came running at the opportunity to grab onto Angel, not when they realised who he was at least. The woman took his reaction in stride as she beckoned him in, trying to show him the way. “Let me introduce you to our hotelier. He’ll be so happy to meet you.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Angel muttered as he stepped into the hotel for the first time. Taking it all in, just like the outside, there was an excessive amount of red, the colour coating almost every surface. All the furniture and wallpaper was old, fabrics peeling and stuffing spilling out of surfaces. Angel wouldn’t be caught dead staying in a place like this or even wandering near it if he was certain they were harbouring something he was looking for. 

“Angel Dust?” A voice called out, sceptic as they called for his attention. Turning to face whoever had caused him, Angel’s face brightened a minuscule amount before he even faced the Sinner, recognising them from their voice alone. Just as every other time Angel has had the pleasure of running into the Sinner, he wore his usual tophat, bow and suspendered pants, all of which were laced in red. “What are you doing here?”

“Just lookin’ for some new investments,” Discarding the blonde woman momentarily, Angel Dust gave his full attention to the much shorter Demon. “Didn’t know I’d find you here, Whiskers.”

“Wait,” Their attention was then pulled away from a new voice, one Angel didn’t recognise this time. Spotting a woman even shorter than Husk adorning a lot of grey and a glare on her features, Angel couldn’t help but sigh as more time was wasted. The scowl on her features twisted as her eyes flicked between them both. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, he also knows Niff,” Husk supplied for him, filling in the two unnamed girls in the room. Both of them gave him a confused stare, unaware as to how Angel could’ve known the both of them. Just by Angel’s looks alone it was clear that he was well off since coming down to Hell. Trying to connect the dots as to how he had met two Sinners who had sold their souls just wasn’t adding up. “Wait, do you two not know who he is?”

“He’s the Mafia Demon,” The blonde woman repeated, though there was a spec of hesitation in her words now as she examined Angel’s tall figure.

“What?” The shorter one exclaimed, her eyes widening as she took in Angel’s calm and put-together appearance. Marching over to the blonde woman, she grabbed onto her arm and pulled her in close, whispering in a shouted way, “You let another Overlord in here, Charlie?”

“He wanted to invest in the hotel, Vaggie,” Angel was guessing Charlie spoke to who she had called Vaggie. Again, the name Charlie rattled around in Angel’s head but he was still yet to put a title to the name or the face. “This could be really good for business if everyone knew we had two Overlords helping out.”

“Or it could scare them all away,” Vaggie rebutted, letting go of Charlie to instead glare at Angel. The heat in her eyes did nothing to get under Angel’s skin, just making the Overlord let out a huff in annoyance as he was subjected to this bickering until Charlie was able to move on with this little tour and take him to the hotelier. 

“I don’t think that’s going to matter,” Husk cut in, stopping Vaggie from going even further down this over-paranoid rabbit hole. “Not when he’s Al-”

“What’s all this commotion about?” A static-filled voice sliced through the room, putting an end to any discussions. Chills broke out along Angel’s spine as he turned to face the newcomer to the conversation. Setting his eyes on him, Angel was glad he decided to give this rundown hotel a look since it was in fact harbouring the Sinner he was in search of. “My, what a wonderful visitor we have here.”

“Alastor,” Angel mused, voice sweet and sultry as he left his spot to saunter over to the Radio Demon. The deer smiled up at Angel in a genuine display, the sight blocked by Angel’s being as he got closer. Lifting one of his many hands, he slowly placed it on Alastor’s cheek, giving him time to back up if he needed to. When he didn’t, his head tilting to rest in the gesture, Angel trailed it down to where he was grabbing Alastor’s chin and tilting his head up so their eyes could properly meet. “Smiles… Where the fuck have you been these past seven years?”

In seconds, the sweetness that had been previously wafting around Angel dropped and a cruel and harsher tone took over. Grip tightening on Alastor’s chin to the point where his nail dug into the flesh and almost pierced it with his claws, blood ready to begin bubbling out. One of Alastor’s ears twitched, his smile hardening as he grinned up at Angel, ready to diffuse the situation. 

“What’s going on with those two?” Vaggie murmured, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them.

Hearing her voice, Angel let go of Alastor’s chin and instead reached up to grip one of Alastor’s red ears. Pinching down hard, Angel pulled Alastor in step with him as he turned the both of them around to face the small group that was watching their untouching reunion. In a deadpan Angel announced, “He’s my husband.”

“Aww,” Charlie very quickly cooed despite the situation, earning a blare of static from Alastor. 

“Why don’t we move this to the privacy of my room, Dear?” Alastor attempted to wiggle his way out of Angel’s grip, one of his tentacles coiling around Angel’s arm to try and yank him off, though Angel stayed strong in not letting Alastor out of his grip.

“Oh, so you made yourself nice and comfy here before tryin’ to track me down to let me know you were back?” Angel scoffed as he pulled on Alastor’s ear tighter, practically shouting into it as he lowered himself to speak into it. “Let me guess, you were gonna go start shit with Vox before even droppin’ by to let me know you weren’t dead.”

Alastor’s response couldn’t be heard as the pair of them were engulfed by shadows, transported to wherever Alastor desired. Behind them, they left two bewildered girls and an amused Husk at seeing his boss get a good yelling at. Sucking a calming breath in that didn’t work in the slightest, Vaggied said, “What. The. Fuck.”

[atbussysparks]

Last Scout headcanons I prommy 🥺 LETS GET IT BITCH 🔥🔥🎉💯🗣️🗣️

He believes that theater is cringe. EXCEPT ROCK OPERAS. he flips the fuck out when they do anything.

He needs his tonsils out so bad. Genuinely a medical anomaly how decrepit they are

He pushes his body too far occasionally and has some pretty bad joint pain. Most of the time when he's off the clock he uses forearm crutches

He sleeps on a bunk bed. Top bunk. No one else sleeps on the bed with him.

If someone walked into his room at home the only decoration would be a magic eye wallpaper

Sharp canines

He doesn't remember anything from the troubled teen's camp bc he was dissociated the whole time

He found out how to make things explode with a rock covered in copper wire and a power line

Every time he talks about what's wrong with him he says it like it's completely normal. It's never normal. Your bones shouldn't go squishy.

He's a dog guy, but he has a kitten that he treats like his own baby. They have very similar actions. The cat is orange

If he was a teen in the 2000s he'd have an edgy wolf OC named dragonspark

He bought an "illegal firework" that was just a straight up pipe bomb

He gets stuck in a well regularly and pyro has a hard time communicating with others to help him

Favorite mode of exiting a room? Jumping outta the window!

Scout doesn't think that moles are real. The animals.

Unrelated but Medic uses a wheelchair because he was serving in the American army in WW2. That's how he got his citizenship! He'd lived in America for two years before that. He caught shrapnel in his knees during a battle and they pop out of socket. He also has joint pain. Just like me!

[soulmateszedits]

Niel × Teen Top ; A to Z ᓚᘏᗢ

✧ Era

✧ AJ

[lovelykil]

I love your imagines for kyle 😭💕 I was wondering if you could do some but with Craig ??🙈

Head full of smitten bf Craig brain rot 😞

been getting alot of craig requests recently 😭 but suree🫂 I might make a series with the imagines stuff

craig x reader older ver.

cw; none

nsfw ver.

Imagine. . .

you guys watching a movie together on his phone, an earbud in each of yalls ear. His chin rested on the top of your head since you were in between his legs, his long arms wrapped around you as he held the phone to where you and him could see.

For the record,, you guys were supposed to be playing basketball for gym but Craig had other plans. The rest of guys were mad they didn't have another player for their team.

"Craig get your ass on the court!!"

"Fuck off Clyde."

You watching Stripe roam around Criag's room while Criag cleans his cage for him. After he was done he secretly took a pic of you laying down to pet the guinea pig.

This was his wallpaper for a longg time

Laying down in his bed with him as he went on a rant about his hyperfixation; space. He laid on his back with his hands resting on his stomach, hands clasped together whilst you paid attention to his monotone yet cheerful voice, your elbow propped on his sheets holding your head up.

Him randomly flicking your forehead or twirling your hair to get your attention, his voice needy and inpatient.

"Craig can you stop that."

"Pay attention to me, I'm bored."

"Do you wanna hug or someth-"

"Yes."

"lmao okay, c'mere."

Craig lifting up your chin to kiss you since you're short, lol. unless you're not.. then good for you, you over 6 feet?

Idk but Craig is pretty tall him n Kyle are the tallest out of the group in highschool😗

Face calling him every night, talking about nonsense even getting out some laughs from that expressionless teen.

Picking up on his behavior so much, you even yourself start flipping people off at random times, bro is proud. He high-fives your behavior while Clyde scowls Craig at him for this.

Him staring at you in class, when you turn around he immediately looks away you could see that faint blush on his cheek, you smile to yourself getting ready to tease him about that after class.

Going on ice cream dates with him, sometimes even sharing a small bowl of the cold treat,, sitting infront of him with two long spoons inside the container. At times he'd finish the ice cream for him self, laughing at you as you complain.

Him laying on your lap, his head resting on your thighs as he was scrolling mindlessly, enjoying your occasional head rubs as you also paid attention to your phone.

Craig repeatedly calling out your name, also for attention. He pokes at your arm, cheek.. maybe even bite your arm softly.

"Craig I swear."

"Love me."

Him holding you close in his sleep, his face stuffed in the nape of your neck. You lay your hand ontop of his that was around your waist, your abdomen feeling tingly and full of butterflies.

Him being so utterly embarrassed by his new braces he had to get that he tries avoiding you, but when you finally realize the problem you kiss his cheek reminding him he's cute either way.

He turns red after this..

Having matching backpacks togetherrr, most likely some space themed- lots of stars. He begged for it to be space themed you wanted something else but you eventually gave in to what he wanted, plus the stars were cute anyway

Him flirting with you bluntly, but when you flirt back he gets nervous

"You look so good right now babe."

"Oh really?"

"..Y-yeah,, why'd you say it like that" 😭

Him ignoring/ dogging everyone else just to see and meet you in the hallways to walk to to your next class.

"Oh Criag I gotta ask you somethi-"

"I just want to see Y/n, go away."

shortly after..

"Y/nn" :]]

"Craigg!" :D

[talanashta]

There's Too Many People On This Bed!

For @polyamships September prompt "bedroom" and this prompt for the Four or More Fic-a-thon @fourormore

Rating: T | No CWs | Word Count: 707 | Pairings: Spicy Six Plus Chrissy Polycule Additional Tags: Steve's POV

This is the 1st part in what is going to be a post-S4 series about all of them; I've still got to think of a name for it [edit: the title is "my lonely days are gone". The rest of the series will be tagged with this too]

Once everyone started moving into the house, Steve had done a huge overhaul of most of the living spaces. Max needed a ground-floor, wheelchair-accessible bedroom; the young adults needed enough space to spread out when they didn’t want to be all over each other; and Steve needed a bigger bed in his room.

Well, his room needed a lot of things. The first thing Robin made him do was get rid of the plaid-on-plaid aesthetic he’d had since childhood.

“I picked it out when I was seven, Robs. Seven! Please stop getting on my case about it,” Steve pleaded.

“That means you’ve had thirteen years to change it since, and clearly, you haven’t,” she told him.

So, the wallpaper got torn down and replaced with a nice, neutral, striped wallpaper that promptly got covered in four people’s worth of wall decor. Chrissy and Robin put polaroids and mementos up, Eddie put up a few band posters and hung his guitars, and Steve just put up a mirror. What could he say, he was a simple guy.

The bed got swapped for a king-sized now that they were trying to sleep four people in there. Most days (especially when Eddie was being a bed hog), it was still a tight squeeze, but Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’d spent most of his childhood and teen years in this house feeling lonely, but now it was so full of life, he didn’t get a moment’s peace. The kids were in and out at all hours of the day, all the young adults of the Party lived here, and the older adults would come over every once in a while for barbecues and family dinners and parties.

He’d never felt so loved and cared about. Most nights in their new bed, all four of them would cram in like sardines, protecting each other from the nightmares that came from everything they’d been through.

The bed sharing had started a long time ago as just him and Robin having sleepovers when they could get away with it. They couldn’t bear to be parted for too long. After spring break and Vecna, slowly Eddie and (occasionally, when she could get away from her mother) Chrissy would join them, until, after graduation, both decided to move in full time.

However, sometimes there were snags in the bed sharing. Like tonight, when Steve woke up to the sound of someone trying to open the bedroom door quietly. He blearily opened his eyes and looked to see Argyle standing in the doorway.

“Hey, brochacho,” he whispered to Steve. “Can I join you guys? I’m having a hard time sleeping with Jon and Nancy out of town.”

Steve just nodded at him, pulled Eddie closer to free up the edge of the bed, and went back to sleep.

Only to wake up just a short while later to an elbow in the ribs.

After he rearranged Robin’s limbs to be less jabby, he dozed off again.

Only to wake up again, this time with Eddie half on top of him, and not in a nice snuggly way, in a trying-to-smother-him way.

Okay, so he got Eddie readjusted and fell asleep again.

He gave up after he woke up a third time with Argyle’s hair in his mouth. Wasn’t Eddie between them? He looked for Eddie, only to find him wiggled about halfway down the bed with his face buried in Argyle’s stomach.

Steve let out a deep sigh and slowly maneuvered himself out of bed. He tip-toed across the hall to what Eddie called the Sex Dungeon, but was really just a spare bedroom that they would use to not sexile anyone from their actual bedroom.

There, Steve sprawled out on the bed, limbs askew. He sighed again, this time in relief, and dozed off, enjoying having this much bed space to himself.

And woke up again when Robin flopped herself on top of him.

“Missed you, dingus,” he heard her mutter, already most of the way back to sleep.

Steve just stared at the ceiling for far too long, before giving up on sleep for the night and holding Robin for the last hour or so until it was time to get up.

Read the Next Part in the Series

[patrickztump]

hello fall out boy fans who sim and simmers who listen to fall out boy, i have a build for you all:

i spent the last few days creating a little home where every room is a different album or ep (soul punk and truant wave included, as i made too many rooms. oops), even the exterior has a theme. i did use a cluster of packs but it’s limited to six, and none are expansion or game packs, so hopefully everyone can place it fairly easily.

ea id: stumpymatic lot name: 412 Phoenix Valley RD

everything is based off visuals and vibes, but i do believe a large chunk of rooms will get the point across. the common thread between them all is that this is a home for plant lovers! every room, minus the basement and kid’s room, have at least a couple plants.

a breakdown of the rooms + their themes and additional photos below the cut:

basement (take this to your grave): this one was a bit hard for me because tttyg isn’t one of my top albums, so i ran short on visual references, but i do believe i got the vibe down just enough. the general basement atmosphere helped significantly. ironically i added the boneyard fish tank without any thought to the theme.

MAIN FLOOR

living room (american beauty/american psycho): this is arguably the most normal room in the house. abap to me is very bright with warm yellows and cozy greens, its summer. tried to tie into the lyrics of “the kids aren’t alright” with the bear chair and photos of (what i presume) those long gone.

bathroom (pax am days): the thing about pax am days is while it’s fall out boy going back to their hardcore roots, they are in a mature state as individuals and an band. so this one ties back to the brick walls of the basement, but classier. it’s also just straight black. because i love dark bathrooms lol

kitchen (mania): this one was hard, and i erased everything i previously typed because i had a different idea and reworked the entire room. the new version is more cohesive than the original and spacious. small references are the obvious purple wall, but also a glass ceiling over the breakfast nook for "i hope the roof flies off."

dining room (soul punk): this one is definitely more stylized and i actually love it a lot, probably my favorite room. i just picture parties where the attire is formal but fun happening in here. if you place this lot for any reason whatsoever, please let it be because i spent at least 20 minutes making the boxes off the album cover out of individual neon lights.

SECOND FLOOR

main bedroom (folie à deux): this was like mania in as much as it was kind of a bad decision, but i think i made it work. references: color (obviously), butterfly photo ("disloyal order"), baseball bat ("headfirst slide"), mirror ("pavlove"), black dress ("tiffany blews"), and of course, the gnome in the bear outfit (which i affectionately call the "folie gnome" and try to remember to place in most of my builds).

master bath (truant wave): this is all color palette vibes. i just kept picturing the cover and love a brown toned bathroom with pops of green. but also the lights over the sinks, so you can have your own spotlight.

hall bath (so much (for) stardust): again with the black bathroom theme, but this time with pops of pink and touches of yellow. plus dog art! gotta have dog art. used the string of pearls light fixture again because a) love plants, and b) bubble-like.

kid's room (infinity on high): was absolutely bless with the photos that came with this album. it's not exact by any means, but it's similar. no sheep or grasshoppers in basegame, but we have a couple llamas and some ladybugs for replacements.

teen's room (from under the cork tree): to be honest this was a struggle to find the right vibes with the wallpaper and paints, but i ultimately like it. references: made sure to use a bed with proper bedposts, yes there are 16 candles on the dresser, postcards, and more!

shared bathroom (lake effect kid): this one is like the master bath, color vibes more than anything.

EXTERIOR

landscaping, etc. (save rock and roll): of course i saved my favorite album for my favorite part of building <3 lots and lots of red, layers upon layers with the flowers. apple trees to tie back to the videos for "young volcanoes" and "just one yesterday," as well as the pickup truck, and of course a fire pit*. all tucked away within a classic picket fence – which is the entire reason i created this, had "miss missing you" in my head then thought to myself, "i do love the picket fence in the sims.." and here we are!

*the fire pit that should be functional (it's one i pulled from another build i made and it did work), just have you sims light the tiny fireplace in the middle.

(the halls are very generic, to give the illusion that this is a normal house lol)

just a photo of the dining room because i need you all to see the boxes aksjfs

a few final notes:

• place with move objects ON • packs used: – my first pet stuff – backyard stuff – romantic garden stuff – desert luxe kit – blooming rooms kit – holiday celebration pack

info again, for those who made it this far: ea id: stumpymatic lot name: 412 Phoenix Valley RD

[tinyvesselhearts]

Thing Is (Protective Egon x You)

It’s a part of a slightly larger collection of one-shots but I’m pretty proud of this one so here it comes:

Egon x Reader/You No Y/N Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (minor injuries)

Thing is, he’s become too observant.

Egon knows you come to the station around 10 A.M. There’s no jumpsuits, car or equipment to maintain so you start with the kitchen. It’s not exactly a part of your duties: the guys are fully capable of washing their own, especially since they barely eat in. Yes, okay— he’ll agree none of them is a dishwashing phenomenon and they hardly ever manage to finish breakfast before their first call— but you can just leave the plates there and nobody would bat an eye.

You do it though. Without a word.

On Tuesday, while showing you monochromic ectoplasm bonds Type IV (Egon prompts it himself these days, no bribe included), he notices the skin on your hands is chapped. He knows you work with nasty chemicals while taking care of Ecto- 1 but you’ve always worn latex gloves— he’s seen them hanging on the heater, next to whichever colorful apron you chose for the day. The only time you work with your bare hands is while cleaning the kitchen. Wiping the counters. Scrubbing the sink.

You’re busy looking at the molecules of Type IV, while he does some research on what he calls The Collective. The sight of your dry fingers keeps nagging him though— there’s no way a simple detergent affects the cells so much— so after replaying all possible scenarios in his head, he can’t take it anymore. He pauses.

“You don’t have to do the dishes”, he states out of the blue. “You know that, right?”

 “Mhm.”

“Why, then?”

You swivel in your chair and look at him.

“I mean, why not? It’s like 20 minutes, tops. You come back to a tidy home and it costs me nothing.”

But it does cost you your hands, he wants to say. There’s no way it doesn’t sound creepy though, even by his standards, so he just acknowledges that with a hum and a thank you. Arguing is pointless. You’ll do whatever you want anyway. He’s not even here to make sure you take care of yourself while on duty.

What he does, however, is wait till the evening and inspect what that low- budget detergent is made of. He’s quick to spot the culprits. It’s a nasty fragrant and the artificial dye. No wonder your skin is irritated. That thing would be harmless if, instead of using your hands, you scrubbed the plates with a metal rod as a part of your morning routine.

Egon buys a new liquid— top shelf this time— and adds some stuff of his own. Some softeners. A nice scent. He pours it into the old bottle so that you don’t think twice. Just a precaution. In case you realized it wasn’t your soap and look for that terrible, skin- devouring slime. He places it near the tap. Then waits.

Over the following weeks he’ll diligently observe how your skin gets better every time you come down to the lab. He’ll see the rough edges get smooth. Fractured knuckles seal shut. Nails regain their shine.

He’ll notice how gentle your fingers are when you secure his slides under microscopic lens.

👻

On this particular Thursday everything goes wrong.

There’s a Class 2 Free- Floating Vapor who’s wildly attracted to funky shapes and vivid hues. It’s the ethereal kind: one whose molecular structure fluctuates. He pries on wallpapers, bedsheet and clothes, tears them up and snugs like an unhinged puppy. Catching him is comparable to squeezing slippery soap. What complicates things even more is that Peter has a clumsy day so even though they manage to trap the ghost, it slips out at the station because somebody forgot to follow a few basic safety tips. Cool. It’s all cool.

Egon knocks at the laundry room’s door. He enters. You’re inside, hanging freshly washed suits.

“We’ve got a situation”, he informs. “Please, wait in here for a few minutes.”

“Oh? You guys need help?”

“We’ll handle this. Venkman let the vapor out. It’s nothing.”

“Oh. Okay.” You straighten up and smooth your apron (it’s the yellow one, embroidered with bees— you wear it when you feel especially joyful and of course it’s got to be today). “I can help, if—”

“No. It’s all under relative control. Don’t worry about it.”

He waits for you to nod, then steps out and closes the door. Relative. Great phrasing, Doctor Spengler.

He powers up the proton pack. The faster they get rid of the ghost, the better. You won’t have time to get creative.

Peter’s pressing a gauze to his nose. It’s bleeding. Not from within though, looks like a cut and that’s relevant: if the vapor is capable of transferring molecules and strengthen bonds within different body parts at will, it could thicken its limbs enough to cause physical harm to humans. Class 2 are rarely aggressive— annoying, yes, destructive as well— but they aren’t interested in manhunt. Maybe this one’s been triggered enough to choose attack for defense.

“Who’s got the trap?”

“I do!” Winston kicks the pedal. “The stream won’t hold long enough though!”

Ray’s standing at the other side of the room, protecting their dear vehicle.

“We should stream it together from different angles! It won’t be able to wiggle out! Let’s try that and move him towards the trap in sync!”

“Baby, you’re lucky I’m a terrific dancer”, says Peter and aims at the ghost.

Egon assesses the situation. The vapor stays too close to the reception for their benefit— the massive wooden desk is going to be a great shield for the specter if they aren’t precise enough. The deeper they go within the station, the more damage they’ll cause. That’s not worth it. Too much precious stuff to risk.

They could try a bait. They’ll have to find some red herring and place it far away: ideally, further into the garage, near the door. Lots of space, no hiding spots. Relative damage control. Cheap repairs. No casualties, either.

He notices Janine’s scarf hanging over her chair: conspicuous, extravagant and frilled, covered in a cheetah pattern. A perfect lure for the ghost. It’s still Janine’s— and she’s upstairs, taking cover in Tully’s office— and once it’s all over she’ll absolutely hate them for destroying her garment. She’d cut their ears off for it, if she could. Luckily, she’s too small for that. Radical.

“Yo! How can I help you, boys?”

For the Mother of—

Egon turns his head. It’s you— standing right at the door in that silly, yellow apron— because of course you are. Hell, you’re an embodiment of what a perfect live bait looks like in this scenario. However, your position (from the strategic point of view) is the absolute worst. You should either take off that apron immediately or move away— and move fast.

“Gear up!” Winston shouts to you. “He’s actually dangerous! Scratched Peter in the face!”

“Guess I was just too pretty!”

The vapor dashes in your direction. It’s quick. You grunt, try to dodge and fail miserably: its slimy claws reach your neck and graze your shirt in a failed attempt to rip off the perky apron. You growl and crouch before Ray chases the ghost off with a stream.

“Ah. Funk. Shite.”, you grunt. “I’ll get the proton pack!”

Egon can’t fucking believe it.

He eases down the proton rod and appears in front of you in a few long strides. No questions, no warning, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder like a sack— then proceeds to literally carry you away from the scene.

“What the heck?!” You yelp. “Let me go!”

“Over my dead body.”

Ray and Winston struggle to aim, Peter does more talking than shooting— as usual— so the vapor dissipates and the streams slide off of its ethereal body. The moment isn’t ideal for being a knight in the shining armor but it’s as good as any. Your safety is more important than a burned wall or Peter’s personal opinion (he surely has one— he saw you two— he did a double take).

All of that is irrelevant. What matters though, is that Egon is aware.

You’re close. Locks brush against his ear and your breath is hot on the nape of his neck. The air tingles his tiny hairs. It tickles, it’s distracting and he tenses up, fingers finding their way into your hair. Then, the scent of soap he planted for you reaches his nostrils— and it’s good, it means you’re taken care of. Your hands clutch his jumpsuit— on his shoulder blades, on his chest— and pull at his damp undershirt just because it’s there, right underneath, warm and soaked with sweat.

You’re holding on to him for dear life. You’re around him, everywhere, all at once and it takes every ounce of his willpower to stay focused.

He lets you go in the far corner of the garage. You slide off. Your numb hands linger on his patch and under his collar. Eyes lock.

For a split second he fights an urge to lean in— to press his forehead to yours, to feel you’re right there, safe, away from danger. He almost does. Then he sees blood on your collarbone and his face turns stark.

“What’s that?”

“Um”, you look downwards and tap the stain with your finger. “I don’t know.”

“He scratched you.”

“ I mean, it doesn’t hurt now, so—”

“He scratched you.”

Something within him shifts. He’s all fire and smoke, jaw set, breath hot, eyes sharp and unrelenting. His fists clench, knuckles whiten, a wave of heat reaches his ears— and in this moment he barely recognizes himself.

“Egon…?”

“Winston!” He yells. “Set the trap!”

Your hands grab his sleeve but the grasp is weak, unsure— as if you wanted to anchor him before he does something stupid. Egon vaguely registers that. The fabric slips away from your grip and he strides away, gaze fixated on the ghost. He supports the proton gun on his arm and aims.

Ray picks up on this change of demeanor immediately.

“Ho, someone’s pissed!” He chants. “We’re shooting on three!”

Peter seems to come round as well. He tosses the bloody gauze on the floor (the wound he got is a sleek, clean line, it doesn’t seem deep) and clenches his teeth.

“You envied my pretty face, huh?”

What happens next is difficult to put in the correct order. There’s a loud shriek, a flash of streams coming from at least three proton packs, a loud zap and a warm glow. There’s also a burnt smudge on the ceiling, stretching all the way from garage door to the reception desk, an armchair on the first floor that’s set of fire and — for some inexplicable reason— two bulbs have just exploded.

Janine and Louis run out of the office. Everybody’s quiet. Thick smoke comes from the trap and the air is still until the red light on it switches on.

“…It’s inside.” Winston sighs. “Are you guys okay?”

Ray does a one over. The overall damage is considerable but Janine’s already prancing around the armchair with an extinguisher and the ceiling— well, it’s not like any client ever pays attention to the ceiling, right?— so everything’s taken care of. Peter extends a thumb in a weak attempt to show it is, in fact, alright.

“Yeah. I’ll go get changed. More than enough for today.”

Egon turns his head towards you. You’re still standing right where he put you: far away from the scene, unsure and anxious. His head is still burning. How stupid of you, how reckless not to listen to his request— how much unnecessary stress, how much disaster— what an idiotic move to ignore an explicit warning—

Ray is a perceptive guy.

“I’ll handle the trap”, he says and leaves the garage first.

👻

You take off the apron, blood splatter tainting a bee you embroidered yourself.

“…Oh. I doubt it’ll come off.”

Egon lets you into his lab and closes the door.

“It will”, he assures you. “Here, change. I won’t look.”

“Thank you.”

He lets you swap your ripped shirt for one of his sweaters while he skims over the first aid kit. There must be some ectoplasmic residue around the gash. If he gets a good quality sample, he could run a few tests and see how the molecular transfer works in reference to changing the ghost’s state of matter. It’s a first. If they could figure it out, that would be a real breakthrough.

“I’m, uh. I’m decent.”

Egon picks up a petri dish, a bottle of antiseptic spray and some gauze pads. He sits in a chair right in front of you, rolls up his sleeves and leans over to inspect the wound.

A long red line runs over your collarbone, up to your neck. It’s fresh, red splatters specked across your throat and chest but despite the impact, it doesn’t seem dangerous. He’s relieved to see the other end of the scratch— it’s right above your chest. The hem of his sweater hangs a little loose on you, allowing easy access. Thank God for small mercies.

The light is dim. It’s the blue glow he uses when he needs to focus. Crisp air wraps around him like a blanket. Drawers and tools are outlined by its faint radiance, particles of dust only fleeting in proximity— the specks move slowly, lazily, as if they had the whole time in the world.

Egon takes his time as well. He disinfects his hands, picks up a cotton stick and leans into your personal space.  Your body radiates with heat. He chooses not to think about it: instead, he works around the wound and collect samples. The tip gathers some of the ectoplasm left by the attack. He’s careful to avoid pressing against the slit— only prods at its edges, makes sure none of the cotton fibers get into your wound. Fingers brush against your neck. Your skin is warm.

You look up.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know what I am at you”, he exhales, then puts away the sample. He takes a scrap of gauze and soaks it with spirits. “It may sting.”

The cloth touches your skin. It’s cold and it burns.

“Eesh. Oof.” You nod. “Yeah, that’s the feeling.”

“Familiar?”

“Ah. Scout camps. We’d get a lot of these. Scraping your way through the woods and all that.”

Egon frowns, meeting your gaze.

“Weren’t your uniforms designed to protect you from those?”

“A cotton button- down skirt? Knee- length? Seriously.”

“…Okay, I can see your point”, he snorts— and you chuckle too, glint in your eyes — and it’s warm in his chest.

He cleans the gash way longer than necessary. Your skin seems so fragile up close. Drops of liquid sanitizer glide against it, guiding him through the task. He runs over them with gentle pads again and again, smearing the antiseptic into an even coat. Delicate swipes leave smudges, which’s irregular lines shapes gleam on your skin. The wound looks a little better. It’s a cue. He doesn’t stop.

“Egon, I’d like to thank you for all of this”, you almost whisper. “I know I screwed up. I’m terribly sorry. I should have been wiser and stay where I was told.”

He frowns. He was mad at you before you came down to the lab. He should still be mad at you but hormones are like tides— they rise and retract, they take over, then dissipate— and he’s just not feeling it anymore.

“We’re good”, he murmurs. “I’ve neglected the issue myself. I should teach you how to use our equipment. Accidents will happen. It’s imperative you’re capable of defending yourself.”

“You’re the experts though. I keep forgetting my place.”

“You’re not bound to a place. You’re a person, not a pet.”

There’s a slight swift in your expression. He doesn’t look— doesn’t dare, really, his demeanor is all too bothering— but your whole body relaxes, as if dead weight just fell off your chest.

“It’s been a long day but at least you got the sample, right? A silver lining?”

Egon looks at you. He’s met with a smirk but— heck, it must be the adrenaline residue or some unusual distress (he’s gotten considerably better at reading your emotions as of late)— he can’t interpret whether you’re being honest or sarcastic. Thin ice. Better make sure.

“Um. Was it wrong of me?”

“Silly”, you let out a laugh. “Not at all. I’m glad, as stupid as it sounds.”

He shivers but manages a smile. It’s chemistry or biology, one of the two. Ridiculous.

Both of you fall into comfortable silence. He finishes patching you up, while you’re just sitting there, looking over the lab. Your neck is close. Breaths mingle. It’s soft and warm. He could stay like that for the rest of the evening but there’s only so much proximity he can go away with (or handle) at once so he leans back.

“That’s all. Keep it dry. Clean in again before you go to bed.”

“Thanks. I’ll go put your jumpsuits in the laundry.”

“Yes.”

He raises from the chair but feels a grasp on his hand. He looks at you and freezes. You seem to purposefully avoid his gaze but dare to lift his fingers to your lips in a gentle motion. He’s not prepared for this. His mind is blank. He—

“No. I mean it”, you press your cheek into his knuckles, eyes squeezed shut. “Thank you for taking care of me, Egon. I owe you again. At this rate, I’d better start paying it off or I’m going to be in debt for a long time, huh?”

No, he wants to say. You owe me nothing, but he can’t utter a word so he watches you stand up, offer a smile and leave, snugly wrapped in his sweater.

There are some noises upstairs. They’re foggy. Later, he’ll be pretty sure Ray called his name at some point but the only thing he registers tonight is loud white noise, an ache in his ribs and warmth in his temple. He carries it to the kitchen, where he eats eggs for supper— then bathroom, where he takes a long shower— then his bed when he goes to sleep. He leaves his flip- flops on the floor but the feeling slides with him under the covers.

It’s late. It should go away, dissipate, but it doesn’t. He counts sheep, tries meditating and stretches every breath to ridiculous extends. It doesn’t help though: it’s still there, strong, unrelenting, it keeps him awake for at least two more hours.

He’s not stupid. He recognizes the symptoms.

He just doesn’t recall struggling with them so damn much.

_____

For those who have already read it: SORRY for posting it again, I just wanted to make it easier for people who exclusively use Tumblr to get to know this piece of fanfiction ;__; Have a great day, thanks for putting up with my antics, I LOVE YOU ALL

[marvelmusing]

Hi, hi, hi!

I have to share something 🙃

Sooo youtube just recommended a vid of the School for Good and Evil with Rafal (probably bc I was looking for shadow and bone wallpapers for like two days in a row and there are like 3 at tops 😒, anyway...)

Watching it, I just realized there's a much more interesting story behind the idea of the movie: Rafal slowly corrupting good 😱

So, the ramblings idea:

Aleksander started out in the school of good, he was to be a hero for his people, a saint like his grandfather. But when his power manifested he was feared and put into the school for evil and he slowly (over centuries) did become truly evil and not long after graduating the principal too...

He was bitter and lonely and that led to a path to a sort of revenge that started out as a lesson he wanted to teach to the people who judged him...

The plan (at first) was to make some of the kids of the people who cast him out "evil", so he can show them that everyone has both good and evil sides but the plan worked too well and he found joy in making them pay for turning on him...

And that was when he truly turned evil...

His work was almost finished. Over centuries heroes got vain, prideful, and mean. Almost at the brink of becoming evil but something was missing...

Then he found you. A Reader with great power that could match his own. A lost soul just like him, who had good intentions but deep down there was something darker that only needed a little nudge from him to get free...

😈

Okay I love this so much

[I knew that Rafal would end up being fully evil as I watched the film, but the feeling of my hope dying when they did the classic villain reveal (the whole ha ha you fell for the bad guy’s manipulation) was disappointing. The film is probably aimed at teens so they can’t have evil win but I just want a villain to be genuine when he says he wants to rule the world together you know?]

Anyways….

I’m gonna turn the school into a university so that the vibes don’t end up icky between Aleksander and the Reader

I feel like Aleksander also sees that being evil often means that his students are more themselves and freer than those at the school for good.

When you arrive at the school for good, Aleksander isn’t surprised that you don’t fit in with the other students. For the first time in a long time, he sees someone with truly good intentions struggling to understand why everyone ‘Good’ is so awful.

He watches you from a distance, seeing how uncomfortable you are surrounded by the entitled princes and princesses. He knows you’re far better than any of them - you deserve to be a queen.

He sees the flicker of anger in your eyes when they mock and demean you. He feels the anger himself, prickling over his skin as he suppresses the urge to put them all in their places.

One day you’re wandering through the grounds and come across the wall that divides the gardens of good and evil. This is where Aleksander first makes contact with you.

The two of you speak through the wall for hours, though he keeps his identity as the headmaster a secret from you - carefully answering your questions so that you believe he is a student, or perhaps a teacher from the sound of his voice.

Regardless of who he is exactly, he provides you with thoughtful advice and an opportunity to talk to someone who you feel actually understands you.

From then onwards, once a week you visit the gardens and sit by the wall where you meet with Aleksander, and the two of you talk about all manner of things. He seems amused whenever you talk about the headmaster for the school for evil and you wonder how much contact the students have with their headmaster.

The headmistress for the school for good was always chastising you, making you feel stupid and naive.

On a particularly difficult day, you rush through the garden with tears welling in your eyes.

When you reach your usual spot where you meet with Aleksander you continue walking, moving towards the portion of the wall that had collapsed and crumbled away. You slide between the large pieces of stone and step into the garden of evil for the first time.

Aleksander lifts his head up when he hears you approaching, his eyes widening as you rush towards him. He reacts instantly, curling his arms around you as you throw yourself against his chest and begin to cry. He soothes you as best he can, encouraging you both to sit down together.

He keeps you close, stroking your hair and murmuring soft assurances, telling you that you are safe with him, that he will protect you from anything.

Once your tears have slowed enough for you to speak, you explain shakily that the headmistress had humiliated you in front of everyone. You were clumsy during ballroom practice and no one had wanted to dance with you.

Your feet are blistered and Aleksander, knowing that you had ballroom practice today, pulls out an ointment and helps to rub it into your tender heels.

Tears still continue to drop down your face and he provides whatever comfort he can, though Aleksander isn’t certain whether the majority of your pain is physical or emotional.

He gets his answer soon enough.

Aleksander’s heart shatters when you ask him if he thinks you’re unlovable. He has meticulously planned his every action for the last few centuries, but he doesn’t think at all as he bends down to kiss you.

“You are not unlovable,” he insists in a low voice as you blink dazedly when he withdraws his lips from yours. “You have a kind soul, something they will never understand.”

Dropping your face down against his chest, you cling to him.

“I know how you feel,” he murmurs softly as your fingers play with the charm that hangs from his necklace. “You want to prove them all wrong. You want to show them exactly what you’re capable of.”

You nod weakly.

“I do.”

“I can help you.”

The metal charm is smooth under your fingertips, a familiar shape carved onto the dark stained silver. The sun in eclipse. The Darkling’s symbol.

Only a select few are permitted to wear his symbol. None of them would risk his wrath by talking to a student from the school for good, which can mean only one thing.

You had only seen the headmaster for evil once, at the beginning of your first year and it had been from across the brightly lit ballroom in the school for good. You hadn’t the chance to admire his face from such a distance.

Sitting up, you look at Aleksander properly. Perfectly styled dark hair, a neat beard, and dark eyes filled with concern.

You know who he is, he can see it in your gaze. But instead of turning away from him, like he fears, you lift your chin determinedly.

“What do I do?” you ask.

He takes hold of his necklace, lifting it up over his head to place it around your neck. You stare down at his symbol as the cool metal rests against your skin.

“You show them who you really are.”

[ssolessurvivor]

get to know Saturn

what's your phone wallpaper: my dog, passed now two years ago, looking through an arch covered in ivy like it's a fairy portal

last song you listened to: i hope you know what you're doing - King Mala

currently reading: home is where the bodies are - Jeneva Rose (on audio)

last movie: Pacific Rim

what are you wearing right now?: plain white tee, black mickey mouse sweats, socks and a salty bitch branded sweatshirt

how tall are you?: 5'4" ish???

piercings / tattoos?: closed ear pierces and six tattoos (cause symmetry)

glasses / contacts: glasses, I used contacts in high school but reverted

last thing you ate?: frozen vanilla yogurt, topped with mini m&ms and caramel

favorite color: blue and/or forest green (depending on the day)

current obsession: crochet amigurumi? (I get to go yarn shopping tomorrow to make a sleepy highland cow for myself)

do you have a crush right now?: Dominic Sherwood of course

favorite fictional character: Raven, Teen Titans (has been lifelong so it counts)

last place you travelled: Cannon Beach, Oregon for our honeymoon last October

[saintsenara]

lamentation sirius black & walburga black teen | 2.1k words

they would give me a guest room at the top of the house, where a view of london unfolded before me like a pen-and-ink drawing, and the walls were soft and pink, their paper patterned with undulating roses. the house seemed, then, like a paradise.

but that was before. before they sold me to a man i did not love. before my sons were born. 

my sons are both dead now.

walburga's portrait is told that sirius is dead.

this piece was written for @womenofthehouseofblack fest, [you can find the other fics in the collection here].

author's notes under the cut

i found the prompt for this piece - what would happen when walburga's portrait was informed of sirius' death - immediately intriguing, because walburga’s portrait is a character i find incredibly interesting; firstly, because she is described in ways which make her sound ancient when she actually died in her early sixties, and secondly, because she provides a fascinating insight into how the wizarding world thinks about mental illness.

i have always hated the fanon about black family madness - particularly since it is so frequently only applied to the women of the family - due to the way in which it undermines the harry potter series’ focus on the value of choice. turning walburga and bellatrix’s cruelty into something innate or genetic distances them from the reality of what they did and how their decisions affected other people. it also prevents them from having complicated emotions and motivations, and - above all - it prevents them from having the capacity to atone for their deeds.

it also denies the fact that a huge amount of mental illness is treatable.

i have always had the headcanon that walburga’s relationship with her sons was affected by untreated postnatal depression - also a theme in nor all that glisters gold [author’s notes here], another piece of mine for this fest - which is exacerbated in lamentation by the additional pain of her high-risk pregnancy and traumatic birth experience with sirius. unable to bond with her son, who she thinks is a changeling, but confined to the house with him by the rigidity of gendered pureblood social convention, her illness spirals into psychosis.

the wizarding world seems to be of the opinion that mental illness doesn’t really exist. when this is examined through the lens of gender, an obvious parallel appears between women’s writing about mental illness in the nineteenth century - walburga, who is, in canon, a pastiche of the madwoman in the attic [the most famous example of which is, of course, bertha rochester from jane eyre] deserves an examination from the other side of the trope. the repeated motif in lamentation of the roses in the wallpaper is a reference to charlotte perkins gilman’s the yellow wallpaper - one of the clearest examples of the damage done to victorian women by the isolation and condescension they received from men in lieu of any holistic treatment for their illness. walburga’s dialogue - the portrait’s screams competing with a more lucid monologue - was inspired by the contrast between how antoinette "bertha" rochester speaks in jane eyre and how she speaks in jean rhys’ wide sargasso sea.

and, as antoinette gets a chance to speak for herself in that text, walburga gets a chance to speak for herself here - something she is denied in the canon narrative, which reduces her to an incoherent, screaming bigot [even as kreacher tells us that sirius leaving home broke her heart]. lamentation offers some contextualisation for the canonical walburga’s obsession with blood and its purity - she does, after all, a significant amount of bleeding in this piece, which naturally distresses her - and with belonging to and being a real member of the family - after all, regulus was snatched by the fairies, and dragged down into the netherworld; sirius left and then came back and then was snatched himself.

an important postscript: both postnatal and antenatal depression are common conditions. they affect more than one in ten pregnant women, they can strike anyone in any circumstances [you can experience them even if your pregnancy was "easy" or if you have a lot of support in the first weeks of your baby’s life], and they are never your fault. they can be serious - and it’s crucial that we challenge the pervasive myth that they are "less serious" than other forms of depression - but they are inherently treatable. the best thing that you can do is to know the signs of these and other perinatal mental illnesses, whether for yourself or for someone else, and make sure to seek help if any of them seem to be present. a diagnosis of postnatal depression does not mean that you will be seen as an unfit parent, and it will not automatically result in your baby being taken away.

the following pages may be useful:

action on post-partum psychosis - for anyone who experiences psychosis during and after pregnancy, provides useful information, resources for health professionals, and advice on how to access support.

association for postnatal illness - for anyone who experiences a mental illness during and after pregnancy, provides useful information and resources.

birth trauma association - for anyone who experiences post-traumatic stress disorder after birth, provides useful medical and legal resources, as well as links to support groups and other contacts.

breastfeeding network - for anyone who wishes to breastfeed and requires support, has links to local support groups.

home start - for parents who need support, provides advice on topics from mental health to financial aid and can offer direct support to families in need.

maternal ocd - for anyone who experiences obsessive compulsive disorder during pregnancy or after birth, provides useful information and resources.

pandas - for anyone who experiences depression or anxiety during and after pregnancy, provides direct support.

postpartum men - for men who experience mental illness during or after (their partner's) pregnancy, provides useful information and resources.