#Traditional lawn wear

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[araiz-zaria]

En Paix — Laurent Gouvion St Cyr

[cj-theyoungling]

Husband Ghost who is obsessed with his wife. He refuses to tell her no, whatever his wife wants, she gets. Anything she even mentions wanting ends up in their shared home. She mentions a beautiful cookware set, she finds it in the cabinets later that week. She complains that her nails are grown out, later her nail tech calls and says that Ghost has paid for a years worth of nail appointments (with tip). Anything to make his wife smile

When Ghost is home his wife doesn't have to lift a finger. He loves the idea of a "traditional marriage" but he's actually a traditional man. He comes home and and does any repairs you need on the house. He's going to buy groceries, doing car maintenance, landscaping the lawn, doing the laundry. Anything his little wifey needs.

Any hobbies she has are always encouraged and paid for by Ghost. Constantly sending packages full of cooking supplies, yarn, stationary, and paints to the house while he's gone. He always wears the things she makes for him. They are bundled in blankets she knitted while eating brownies she baked. All while you are going through the scrapbook you had made while he was on deployment.

He refuses to argue with his wife. A firm believer in "happy wife, happy life". Anything his wifey doesn't like or want to do doesn't happen. She doesn't like his tie, he's changing. She doesn't feel like going out, he's helping her out of her dress and making them hot cocoa. Nothing she can do can upset him. He's so in love with her that anything she does is perfect to him.

[reidrum]

under the mistletoe

note: happy first day of reidrumas! a nice little munch!spencer to keep you warm <3

summary: in which penelope uses a plant to get her friends together, or the time you find yourself under the mistletoe with spencer

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy kissing, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.8k

12 days of reidrumas

The annual BAU Christmas Party became an accord Penelope headed all on her own, and was a job she took very seriously. The amount of times the team had been called away on a case near or on a major holiday is too sad a number to count, so whenever there was certainty that there would be no case or bureau event, Penelope went all in.

That is, on David Rossi’s credit card, of course.

Light up sleighs and reindeers adorned the front lawn of Rossi’s mansion, of which was decorated with red ribbons and twinkle lights galore. The silhouette of the biggest Christmas tree you think you’d ever seen was illuminated in the window as you approached the front, rubbing clammy hands down the sides of your dress.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, just that you are. While it had been some time since you had joined the team and you have definitely had some fun nights out with them, the nerves never get easier to deal with when you know a certain genius will be in your presence.

It seemed everyone knew of your crush on Spencer except the man himself. The way your face heats up when you’re near him, the words tripping over each other as you try to speak, somehow are not dead giveaways to him. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

A call of your name from the bottom of the stairs grabs your attention, and you see none other than Spencer coming up the stairs to meet you. He straightens out his sweater and looks at all of you, “You look nice.”

Suddenly you forget what words are, “Um…I.. thanks! I just got this, and I thought the antlers would be cute too.” you gesture to the light up headband. 

“They’re really cute.” he smiles and gestures you to walk in, and you’re both ambushed by Penelope immediately.

“You’re here! Oh, you look so cute with your little reindeer antlers,” she gushes, “And Spencer! Looking so dapper!” You both walk down the hallway with her, seemingly leading you to the kitchen when she abruptly stops halfway.

“You’re too cheery. What did you do?” you squint.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your eyebrows raise, “What did you do?”

“Why would we hate you?” Spencer says at the same time.

Penelope pauses, and with a hint of mischief in her voice, “Look up.”

Your eyes trail upwards to the arch of the door you’re both stood in, and there hanging with its leaves and red and white berries tied in ribbon, is of course, mistletoe.

“Penny.” you mumble under your breath. If she heard you she paid no mind, only beaming at you both with her Cheshire cat grin. You look over at poor Spencer, who’s sheepish smile and red cheeks are breaking through his stoic demeanor. 

“Did you know mistletoe in nature is actually poisonous? It’s a parasitic plant that has to grow on other trees in order to survive. But it’s holiday tradition comes from Norse mythology when the son of Odin is killed and his mother is so upset her tears turn into the berries on the plant, as a symbol of her love for him.” Spencer rambles out of nervousness.

“That sounds nice Spence,” Penelope grabs both of your hands and positions you in front of each other in the doorway, “Okay great, I’m sure you know the rules of mistletoe. Now kiss.”

“Penelope.” you lightly chide. Her persistence is a match for no one, there’s no way of getting out.

“You have to, that’s the rule! If you don’t, Christmas will be ruined!” she sighs dramatically.

You blink at her a few times hoping she understands that she’s out of her mind and that it’s a little cruel to put you and Spencer in this situation. This is probably his worst nightmare. He has that thing with germs you remember and you both are merely friends so there’s no way he’d see you like that, yet alone want to kiss you because a plant said you had to.

Spencer clears his throat in front of you, and says with a soft voice, “Well, if it’s going to ruin Christmas…”

Huh. Maybe not as cruel as you think.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, “You’re okay with this?”

He nods sheepishly, “I—I mean I love holidays, and even though I’d never done this part of Christmas, I’d hate to break tradition….”

You look at him with disbelief, but Penelope’s smile could not be wider and she squeals, “Amazing! Okay, I’m ready.”

You both look at her knowingly, and she immediately puts her hands up. “Alright, fine! I can take a hint. But, I want details later, both of you.” she busies herself off in the kitchen.

Spencer turns his body to face you, hands tentatively reaching out to ghost the curve of your hips. His eyes look to you for permission, and with a slight nod he takes purchase, bringing you closer while resting his hands on your sides. You gingerly place your flat palms on his shoulders, and it’s then you realize just how close you both are. His breath fans softly against your face, and even in heels you find yourself rising a bit further to meet his lips.

Just mere milliseconds before your lips meet he whispers with the softest pitch you’ve ever heard, “You sure this is okay?”

You think you give him a nod and a word of approval, but it’s lost as soon as you press your lips onto his with no hesitancy. His hands pull you closer to him, leaning deeper into the kiss. The endorphins run loose before  being corralled immediately as the kiss ends as quickly as it began.

He pulls back and he stares at your puffy lips, lips that are puffy because of him and it’s enough to drive him insane. He needs to find a way to have you like that again, to feel your lips against his again fearless of a watchful eye, to show you that he really doesn’t give a damn for tradition, but would do rituals and ceremonies on end if it meant getting to kiss you like that again.

You’re about to say something when your name is called from the living room, the other girls now noticing your arrival and waving you over to grab a drink. You look between them and Spencer, “I should go,” you say reluctantly, “Find me later?”.

He smiles softly, “I’ll find you later.”

You hesitate before moving, wondering if it’s even a good idea. But you realize you’re already this far deep, so what difference would it make? Your eyes dart between the girls and Spencer once more making sure they’re not looking, and rise to your toes again to kiss his cheek, “See you later, Spence.”

A blush rises to his cheek as he touches the spot with his fingers, watching you walk into the living room. You might be the death of him, he thinks.

—

The party’s gone on, games of white elephant are played and countless wine bottles are scattered around the place. He finds himself in an aimless conversation with Matt and Luke, he thinks they’re talking about some sport, but all Spencer can think about is you and your damn lips.

You’re addictive, he’s come to find. He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now fully empathizes with Eve, thinking if something was as nectarious as you, he’d also have to go to great lengths to get it again.

He excuses himself from the conversation, not caring if they said anything, and goes off to find you. You’re sat on the loveseat with JJ that’s entirely too small for the two of you, but you certainly look comfy wedged into the seat. He circles around the back, resting a hand on your shoulder to let you know of his presence and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Is this a good time to find you?”

You startle a little at the voice, calming once you recognize it to be Spencer. You’re surprised he actually came and found you like he said he would, and by the look of his face it seemed like a determined mission.

“I’d say it is,” you smile up at him, his body looming over you behind the couch. He holds a hand out for you, “I’ll be back, J.” you tell her as you stand up. She looks between you and Spencer and a smug look rises to her face.

“Okay…be safe.” she winks. You groan.

Spencer leads you away from the bustle of the living room and further into the depths of Rossi’s mansion. You both walk side by side, talking aimlessly about anything and everything, grateful to have moments just walking with each other. You push open on a fancy door, revealing a vastly large room but with the same crown modeling as the rest of the place. A three piece couch set rests in the middle, and bookshelves filled with antiques line the walls.

You’re intrigued by the telescope pointed out the window, bending down to look through it. Spencer looks up from the book he’s holding on the other side of the room and watches you. You’re ethereal, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your figure making you look like an angel from above. You gaze through the lens to look at the stars, and he can’t help but wonder how lucky he is to have you in front of him and not in the sky with the rest of them.

“Can I confess something?”

You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening, “Um, sure.”

“Nothing scary, I promise,” he reassures.

“That’s not concerning.”

He takes a deep breath, “I had an ulterior motive, when I came to find you.”

Your brows furrow nervously, “What do you mean?”

“No no, I meant it, it’s nothing bad,” he confesses, “I just… really wanted to kiss you again.”

Oh. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” he chuckles.

You stammer, “W—Well, I just wasn’t sure…”

He nods and slowly walks to you, “Would that be okay?”

You look up at him and see that he’s so close again. The waft of his cologne invades your senses. His hair is long again, you told him once he looked good with long hair and he hasn’t so much as looked at some scissors since then. The ends of his curls tickle your forehead when his head dips, lips mere nanometers away.

“Yeah.” you barely muster an audible whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch, “Yeah?” he says in the same pitch, leaning even closer.

“Please.”

His lips press to yours again for the second time this night, and he kisses you with a fervor you couldn’t comprehend. He brings one hand up to cradle the back of your head, padding the impact as he uses the other to back you against the wall. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the roots that makes him fold even more into you.

Kisses travel down the side of your neck to the nape, and he spends time littering the area with lovebites. The soft gasps that leave your mouth only spur him on, but it’s not nearly enough for him.

“Sweetheart,” he pants between kisses, “Need to—fuck—need to taste you, please. Can I?

Your blown out eyes meet his, and it wasn’t even an option to say no when he was begging you so desperately, “Yeah, yes, please.”

His hand snakes through the slit on your dress, tracing the edges of your panties and grinning when he hears your breath hitch. He toys with the edge some more before dipping a finger below the band, never touching you where you really need him but getting awfully close.

“Spence..” you whine.

He groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty saying my name and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles that draw the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

You grip his forearms for more stability, feeling your legs turn to jelly. Spencer sees your struggle and wraps an arm around your waist, “I got you, pretty girl it’s okay.” A few more minutes of teasing you and marking you relentlessly and he decides you’re okay enough for him to stand on your own, so he can sink to his knees in front of you.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he crouches down, making sure you’re okay every step of the way. His finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties. He bunches up your dress and silently gestures to you to hold it, and steadies his hands on either side of your hips. He presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. The delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

Skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, “Look at you,” he marvels hoarsely, “that all for me?”

You nod fast, “Yes, yes Spence please.” you whine out, you’d sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, don’t do that. I’m gonna take care of you, promise.” he coos, calming your pleas, “Come on, leg on my shoulder.”

The new angle opens you up beautifully for him and he can’t help himself when he leans in and swipes a tentative tongue through your folds, satisfied when he hears the sound of a guttural moan leave you.

You immediately slam your hand over mouth as he taunts, “Careful sweetheart, can’t be too loud or someone’s gonna walk in.”

You try to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum as he continues eating you out like a man depraved, like all he was meant for on this earth was to be between your legs. He prods a finger around your entrance and slowly slips it in, you whimper and clamp your fingers into his hair tugging tightly.

Spencer groans into you at the feeling, and adds another finger swiftly moving them in and out. You’re getting close, he can feel it from the way you clench around his fingers, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you’d feel clenching around him.

“Ah—I’m….I’m close.” you whimper.

He speeds up ever so slightly, “Yeah? Okay angel, you can let go, it’s okay.”

Soon your climax washes over you, with you gripping his hair tightly and his fingers never faltering as he rides you through it. He slows down his pace as you come down before gently taking them out and giving you one last lick through your folds before standing up.

You yelp but it’s quickly muffled by him kissing you again. He feels you smile into the kiss and matches you before you both start giggling and pull away.

He can hear the smile in your voice when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, “That was…”

An arm wraps around you again to hold stable, “Good, I hope?”

You press a soft kiss at the base of his neck, “Really good. I guess we have to thank Penny now.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“I may have been the one to tell her to put some mistletoe up.” He confesses sheepishly.

“You told her? S—So you could…like…” you ramble.

“So I would have a chance to kiss you, yes.”

You get real shy in front of him as if he wasn’t on his knees for you five minutes ago, “That’s really sweet…you could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to! But I thought you might not feel the same way because I notice how you are around me and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but then Penelope told me you felt the same and I just figured one of us had to pull the bandaid off.”

You smile shyly, “I get nervous around you, because I really really like you.” you quietly admit.

He pulls you close into his chest, kissing your forehead softly, “Well that’s good then, because I really really like you too.”

Penelope is obviously over the moon when she finds out, giddy as can be knowing her two best friends are now together. What she doesn’t tell you, is how she sends the mistletoe to a preservation company to be pressed and framed. She’s just preparing to have the best gift ever to bring to your wedding.

[not-available-for-comment]

*tired* I will be the non-radfem to say that you don’t have to wear makeup. The minimum amount of makeup required to be acceptable in polite society is 0. I am nearly 40 years old and I have been wearing 0 makeup for almost all of those years and they still let me run the streets unsupervised. Some of you who don’t believe this need a divorce/to stop talking to your mother so much.

HOWEVER

Makeup is also very fun to put on, it’s a traditional female art form, and if someone *voluntarily decides* they want 22 separate products on their face it’s their goddamn right and calling them brainwashed by the patriarchy is childish at best. Like almost all gendered things it’s a fun hobby and a poor requirement for entry.

Thank you for coming to my rant now get off my lawn

[harksness]

She’s giving rich milf in this episode 😌

Like rich milf who’s kids you babysit and oh no her husband is not here and she needs to destress

BRO I WAS THINKING SOMETHING SO SIMILAR?? I GOTTA POP OFF ABT THIS ONE AND GET IT OUTTA MY SYSTEM

I was imagining a kinda Stacy's Mom situation pls help me im in shambles thinking about it 😭😭😭😭 just all the hot situations with milf agatha ugh 😭😭😭

ok some nsfw under the cut

like... she's your best friends mom... and you make any excuse you can to be around her. oh no you need someone to mow the lawn?? yes ma'am anything for you. oh you need help cleaning the pool?? absolutely youll be there. you come over to hang out with her kid??? she's a little too flirty when youre alone. one day you come over when your friend isnt home and you know it, just to see what happens. she insists on inviting you inside. she gets you a snack, sits a little too close to you and starts playing with you hair before commenting on how pretty you are.... maybe things escalate and she fucks you on the counter. maybe you start coming over to stay the night with your friend more and more only to sneak off into her moms room at night. maybe she needs to keep her hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet while she fucks you, breathing hotly against your neck.

or babysitting for her akjjdjf you stay up with her when she gets home after the kids have gone to bed and let her vent to you. quickly shes sharing a little too much about how her husband doesnt satisfy her, esp with his long weekends away for work... and when she leans over and rests a hand on your thigh you lose your mind a little bit. you dont think it can be real when she confesses that shes had her eye on you for awhile. idk maybe all of her frustrations cause her to snap a lil bit and she starts greedily making out with you on the couch you fell asleep on waiting for her to get home. maybe she gets on her knees and begs to eat you out. shes so desperate for a taste, its all shes been able to think about since meeting you. shes so pent up and desperate, she needs to relieve some of her stress and youre just too tempting. youre so so so happy to help her. maybe it starts to become tradition for you to wait up for her, for the two of you to fuck on the couch when she gets home from work after a long day. imagine making out with her and snaking your hand up her pencil skirt... shes grabbing at you, legs spread wide as she moans and praises you and calls you her good girl.

idk maybe she starts giving you little gifts. an expensive necklace she thought would look pretty on you... a nice lingerie set she tells you to wear for her. a new laptop for college.

idk maybe she sorta becomes your sugar mommy

uggghhh pls im not gonna be able to stop thinking about this milf agatha is the source of all my horny thoughts

[softpascalito]

I Baby, I'm Your National Anthem I 2003!DBF!Joel Miller I

Summary: You are back from college for the summer and your family happens to throw the annual Fourth of July Barbecue for your street. Your next-door neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller is invited—and you decide to wear a bold outfit. It definitely catches his attention.

Pairing: 2003!DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 3.3k Tags: Explicit, Smut, Age Difference, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak, Fourth of July, DBF!Joel, Fingering, P in V Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Pool Sex, Unsafe Sex, Dirty Talk, Biting, Teasing, Making Out, Outdoor Sex, Alcohol (like two beers)

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: i saw one (1) tiktok with this fucking glorious fourth of july outfit and somehow this happened. consider this fanfic to be my application to be invited to your 4th of july party next year (yes, you specifically). enjoy the filth <3 (also highly recommend listening to national anthem by lana while reading!)

The sound of the sprinklers rotating on the lawn in front of your window and the slamming of a truck door alerted you that your father was back with the last minute groceries. You quickly got up, heading out to the driveway to help carry the brown bags.

“Take those first, it’s ice cream for the kids. Don’t want it melting,” he advised as he busied himself with grabbing the cooler off the truck bed, disappearing towards the garden, the fence running along it already decorated with red, white and blue, matching the tablecloths and flags hung from the large tree in your backyard to the porch.

You had just got back from college for the summer and had been more than ready to enjoy your time off as you usually did, by lounging in the sun behind your house or going for a swim in the neighbor’s pool. The honeymoon phase of holidays, before they turned into the unavoidable boredom that followed once all reunions had been completed and, at the same time, reminded you precisely why you’d gotten out of the small neighborhood in Austin at your first chance.

The bag you’d brought home was still on the floor in your room, barely half unpacked. Sitting on top of it was the outfit you had picked out weeks ago—at the precise moment your father had called to let you know it was your family's turn to host your street's traditional barbecue on the Fourth of July.

A blue and white checkered bikini, the bottoms made of much less fabric than you’d ever seen sold in Austin. A pair of shorts that seemed barely bigger, cut low enough to give a peak of the set below—and a crop top, the words ‘Miss America’ splayed across your chest in curved, red letters, complete with two red bows attached to the straps. You were certain that, if your father still had a say in your clothing choices, this would not go—and that was precisely why it was perfect. If your father hated it, so would his best friend.

Joel Miller had been little more than your kind next-door neighbor for years—until you’d come back from college for your first break. Suddenly, you questioned how for years you’d been able to miss the way his shirt strained over his broad shoulders or the small grunts that left him when he was tinkering with his truck in the driveway.

You ignored your father’s muttered comments about your outfit as you returned to the kitchen a few minutes later and busied yourself with the last few preparations.

“It’s what all the girls at college wear.” He shook his head but stayed quiet.

Joel and Sarah arrived a little later than the other guests, greeting your father as they stepped into the backyard and you caught something about a mess-up at the construction site as the two men embraced. You turned your attention towards Sarah, who excitedly asked your opinion about her new sneakers and didn’t run off to join the other kids playing football at the far end of the backyard until you reassured her that they were indeed very cool, throwing in a comment about how you’d seen someone at University wear them—making her positively beam.

You turned towards the house just in time to see Joel’s eyes land on you. Oh boy.

His gaze trailed down your body, tracing your curves, no doubt taking in the shape of your body. It took him a few moments to snap out of it, shifting as his gaze returned to your face before he hesitantly crossed the space between you. The polite, strained expression on his face told you exactly how hard he was trying to keep his eyes from wandering.

“Back from college then?” he asked, clearly keeping the conversation light. Though you did like to think, unlike many others, that he actually wanted to know. That he cared.

“For the summer,” you responded, smiling up at him innocently, still aware of his eyes on you.

“How d’you like it?” Joel placed a hand on his hip, looking at you expectantly.

“It's good. A little exhausting sometimes. Lots of studying.” You grinned as you saw him raise a brow.

“Studying, eh?” There was something twinkling in his eyes, a certain sense of mischief you hadn't seen in him before. “That what all the kids do up there these days?”

“That and a few parties,” you admitted with a small smirk. “You know, finding the balance of life. But college boys are—”

Both your heads flew around as you heard your dad call your name and for a second, your heart felt like it stopped. You'd wanted to tease Joel by talking about college boys, not reveal your love life to your father. But clearly, he hadn't heard. “Get Joel a beer, will you?”

Joel opened his mouth—but then he shook his head. His voice sounded strained as he spoke. “Beer sounds good.”

You led him towards the cooler, reaching down to grab two bottles, handing one to him. A bemused smile played around his lips as he nodded towards the bottle still clutched in your hand. “Your old man letting you sneak beers?”

“He doesn't have to,” you said with a satisfied smirk, grabbing the bottle opener and handing it to him. “Turned twenty-one this spring.”

You could see Joel's hand shaking slightly as he opened his beer before motioning for you to give him yours and doing the same for you. “Quite the gentleman,” you mumbled, taking in the way his green flannel sat a bit too tight around his broad chest.

“You don't know half of it.”

During the afternoon, the light blue sky seemed to be celebrating the holiday as much as the people below it. The barbecue was fired up by your father, the other fathers gathering around as he explained the new, improved features, making you roll your eyes. You drifted back and forth between the adults and the children, joining the latter for a few rounds of football until the sun began to set.

Joel kept his distance and, with a slightly heavy heart, you followed his lead. He was rather quiet but still, you could see his eyes flying towards you occasionally. You began to wonder if you had miscalculated.

When the salad bowl ran low for the second time, you volunteered yourself to head inside to refill it. You had barely placed it on the kitchen counter when you felt him standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the dark wood. His eyes trailed down your form more slowly than before, leaving no doubt in your mind that the outfit had fulfilled its purpose of getting his attention.

“Quite a party.” His gaze was still not meeting yours, lingering on your chest.

“Wait until they bring out the fireworks. My dad bought enough to light up the whole street.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

Joel shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his face as he stepped forward. “Ain’t what I meant.” His hand brushed over your thigh and you sent an anxious glimpse out the window, making sure that you weren't in anyone's line of sight.

“It's a pretty bikini,” Joel mumbled, lowering his voice. His thumb was brushing over the checkered fabric where it peeked out from under your shorts. “Shame you aren't taking a swim in it.”

An involuntary breath left your throat as you felt his free hand coming up to your face, nudging your chin up slightly. You couldn't remember ever being so close to him, your brain going into overdrive as it tried to figure out which part of his face to commit to memory first. Desire burned in your core brighter than ever and between that and the beer possibly clouding your judgment, you bit your lip, sending the man in front of you a shy smile and yet abandoning all care. You'd be back to college in a few weeks. If this went wrong, you'd never have to speak to him again.

“Is that an offer?”

“Damn sure is, darling,” Joel mused, his hand squeezing your hip and you let out a small breath of relief.

You thanked all your lucky stars for the architect who had built your house some 50 years ago—and had clearly taken into account that you would one day need to sneak out the back door with your dads best friend—preferably without being seen. It faced towards the high fence that separated your yard from the Miller’s, making it feel almost too easy for the two of you to sneak off.

You hadn’t even reached the pool when you dropped your shirt and pants to the floor, making Joel whistle lowly behind you. “I was right. It is a fucking pretty bikini.” You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, his eyes still raking over your body as his clothes joined yours on the floor, leaving him in only his boxers.

You’d seen him shirtless a few times. When you'd brought over something you had borrowed and he was in the pool or the one time you'd been over to help Sarah with some homework and he'd just gotten out of the shower, a beige towel wrapped around his waist. You’d felt like some fucking creep when you had recalled the sight of his naked chest, and the trail of hair leading further down, at night and slipped a hand between your own thighs, thinking that you stood no chance with the man who was frequently whispered about by the single ladies of the neighbourhood, despite rarely showing interest in them.

You lowered yourself into the water and felt it ripple around you as Joel followed. The next moment, he was beside you, pushing you towards the other edge of the pool, strong arms caging you in on either side. You could still hear the party going on behind the fence, voices and music, the smell of barbecue drifting through the air. And a few lights—tiny holes in the fence allowing them to travel through, the warm glow reflecting on the surface of the pool.

Joel growled as he nipped at your skin, hard enough that you already knew it'd leave marks. Good.

“Can't let you go back to college without something to remind you of me,” he muttered and you sucked in a breath in response, the words going straight to your core. His teeth scraped over the notch between your collarbones and you felt a moan begin to travel up your throat. Before it could escape however, Joel's hand clasped firmly over your mouth, forcing you to breathe through your nose as your eyes widened slightly.

“Don't want your dad hearing us, do you?” Joel muttered and indeed you could hear the voice of your father booming through the night air as he delivered some punchline to a no doubt stupid joke. You shook your head softly and that seemed to satisfy Joel because the next moment, his hand left your mouth and began to slide down your body, trailing over it the same way his eyes had earlier tonight. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his index finger circle drawing shapes on your hip before slipping under your bikini, brushing past your clit and settling between your folds.

“Hard to tell in here but feels like you’re wet for me,” Joel muttered with a grin and you bit your lip, voice hoarse as you tried to keep quiet.

“Took you long enough to notice,” you teased—and the reaction was immediate. He pushed you further against the side of the pool, trapping you with his broad body.

“Watch it.” His index finger moved upwards—and the next moment, your walls were clenching around it, already begging for more. You felt a second finger drawing large circles around your clit again—when a noise on the other side of the fence made both of you pause, heads swiveling around just in time to see a football land on the lawn.

He cursed under his breath, pushing himself off you and dragging you to the end of the pool least visibly from the house. The deck was raised high enough above the water that if you squeezed yourself against the wall, you just may not be seen—especially in the dark. Once he had pushed you into the corner, he was about to follow when your eyes widened. “Joel, the clothes,” you whispered in a panicked voice.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and crossed the pool in a few strokes, climbing back onto the porch. You watched, holding your breath, as he looked around, finally locating two towels and throwing one over the mixed pile of clothes and wrapping the other around his waist. No second too late, because the next moment one of the men who had marveled at your dads new barbecue earlier strode over the lawn. “Miller, hey! What’re you doing out here?”

Even in the water, you felt your knees go weak. Joel was dripping wet, his cheeks flushed—your only hope was that the other man was either too drunk or too stupid to realize what was happening.

“Heard something thud against the wall.” You heard Joel respond. “Was just taking a shower, Tony spilled his beer all over my shirt earlier.”

The other man let out a small laugh. “Yeah, he’s wasted.” You couldn't see him from where you were standing but you heard him pick up the ball as an idea popped into your head. You shifted slightly, knowing your movement would be visible to Joel, who was still in your sight—and after a moment, you held up your bikini bottoms, smiling innocently. Joel's eyes flickered towards you for a split second—and even in the dark you could see his body tense, adjusting the towel around his waist as the veins on his neck bulged with restraint.

Footsteps told you the other man was leaving, until they paused again. His voice rang through the yard once more. To your horror, it was your name that filled the air. “Do you know where she went? Her father was looking for her I think.”

Joel's face twitched before he forced himself to smile. “No clue. Maybe calling a secret college boyfriend.”

He waited until the man's laughter had drifted away and joined with the noises of the party again before he dropped the towel, his cock straining at the fabric of his boxers.

As soon as he was back in the pool, he was upon you, cowering over you with a hard expression on his face, snatching the small piece of fabric from your hand. “Think it’s fucking funny?” He muttered, his eyes flying over your face. 

The alcohol was definitely having an effect on you because you grinned, nodding weakly. “A little bit.”

Joel actually fucking growled at that.

He made short work of your bikini top, yanking it off to gather your breasts in his large hands, squeezing slightly. “That fucking mouth of yours, darling.”

���Should shut me up,” you muttered back and his eyes briefly searched yours before his mouth was on yours. Neither of you were gentle, much too impatient for soft kisses. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth grazed over your lip and you could feel the vibrations of his groans traveling right from his throat into yours.

When he broke the kiss, you whined in protest, wrapping your own arms around him to pull him closer, making him groan as his still covered cock brushed against your stomach. “Goddamn, baby, you gonna let me fuck you?”

Joel didn't even flinch when you softly bit down on his earlobe. “Like you have to ask, Miller.”

His last name seemed to do as much to him as it did to you because his hands briefly left your sides to yank his boxers down, throwing them carelessly onto the lawn behind you. “Get your ass up here,” he commanded as he hoisted you up and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his cock nudge at your entrance.

Joel swallowed and you could see him struggling to restrain himself. “Do you want me to go and get-”

“Got it covered,” you said impatiently before he could even finish the sentence.

“You sure?” He asked again and you nodded impatiently. And then he was finally pushing his hips upwards, his cockhead parting your lips, requesting entrance. You let your body fall into his rhythm, sinking down on him, forcing a whimper from your throat.

You barely heard the shuffling behind the fence and the voices getting more muted as the party seemed to be moved towards the street, further away from you.

“It ain’t your first time, is it, sweetheart?” Joel suddenly piped up, watching your expression carefully and you could distinctly hear the note of concern in his voice. But you shook your head.

“Told you,” you breathed out. “College boys.”

“This gonna be better than any damn college boy,” Joel mumbled, a grunt leaving his throat as he began to thrust up into you properly, driving any worry out of your mind.

“You knew what you were doing to me tonight?” He muttered, causing you to shake your head despite the fact that you knew exactly, even planned, to do it to him. You wanted to give a snarky response, something smart, but you could barely think straight with his cock nestled so deep inside of you.

“Made me hard all throughout dinner, thinking about all the things i could do with you,” Joel answered his own question before changing his angle slightly, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “Fuck, doing so good for me, darling.”

“Joel—” you choked out, feeling the orgasm that had been lingering for what felt like forever now approaching rapidly. “Want you to come inside, please—”

His eyes darkened as he nodded. And then, suddenly a sparkling light reflected in his eyes—followed by a loud bang far above you. The fireworks had started.

It only took a few more thrusts and Joel's finger returning to your clit to send you rushing towards your orgasm, your fingernails scratching over his back so hard that you were certain you were not going to be the only one with something to remember tomorrow.

“Come on,” Joel edged you on. “Show me how pretty you look coming on my cock, baby.”

And you did, groaning as your body tensed, the feeling inside your stomach so similar to the exploding fireworks above, with Joel following suit, obeying your wish and spilling himself deep inside of you as you clung on to him, so content to finally, finally carry him so deep inside, the thought traveling right to your core again as he gathered you in his arms, both of you tilting your heads back enough to watch the sky above sparkle in different colors.

“Happy fourth, Joel.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Happy fucking fourth, darling.”

He gathered the clothes in his arms, whispering promises and praise as he led you up the stairs to his bathroom, having insisted to at least get you clean before letting you sneak back home. His hands brushed over your naked skin, causing you to raise a brow. “I thought we were gonna take a shower?” “Oh, I'm not nearly done with you,” Joel muttered in your ear, causing you to smirk. You reached for your clothes but Joel only gave a small tut. “You’ll get them back. Just not—” He raised the checkered bikini bottom. “This. I’m keeping that.”

thank you for reading! every time you leave a comment, a firework explodes over joel miller fucking in a pool btw :)

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a joke. they were supposed to be in steve’s backyard with all their friends and family in shitty lawn chairs, holding cans of budweiser and jamming to whatever song eddie was in the mood for that day blasting through the speakers. steve was supposed to be in front of them all in a tuxedo t-shirt and powder blue dress pants, flowers in his hair that had been teased to high heaven and dark black sunglasses to keep out the bright sun. that’s how they had planned it all those years ago when they’d been high and drunk and young and in love.

but somehow instead, the yard is full of flowers and benches that hopper and wayne put together with spare wood for everyone to sit on and there’s an archway at the end of the aisle and soft acoustic songs spilling gently out of the speakers. steve’s still at the front, that was always supposed to happen, but this time he’s wearing an actual tux, light cream with a boutonnière and everything, and his hair is pushed back just so. there’s no flowers in his hair and no sunglasses but it’s cloudy enough of a day where he doesn’t really need them anyway.

they weren't even supposed to do this. there wasn't supposed to be a grand entrance and a walk down the aisle, no flower girls or ring bearers or anything remotely traditional. but what started off as, "well, i wouldn't mind walking down the aisle," and "i think exchanging rings would be cool," and "who cares if it isn't legal, i'm going to marry you anyway damnit," turned into this beautiful day of friends and family and love.

robin’s standing beside him in a tux of her own, pinstripe grey donning a pocket boutonnière that matches nancy’s bouquet, with a few notecards in her hands. and speaking of nancy, she’s heading down the aisle in a flowing dress, and when her eyes catch robin’s, she crinkles her nose before blowing her a kiss. she stands opposite of steve as eddie's not-quite-bridesmaid and grips her bouquet tightly, her eyes never leaving robin's.

and then there's dustin. he's in a tux that matches steve's and he has his curls pushed back with probably too much gel and a tie that suzie got him for their 3rd anniversary. the best thing he's sporting, though, is the smile on his face and the ring box in his hand and the joy in his eyes as he looks out at the crowd. having him there as best man and smelling the cheap cologne he wears so he seems more grown up calms steve's ever beating heart enough to where he doesn't think he'll throw up from nerves anymore.

all of their loved ones are surrounding them in clothes steve’s never seen before but he couldn’t care at all what they’re wearing because they’re all smiling wide and bright at him. he catches himself rocking back and forth on his feet so he shakes out his hands and holds them behind his back to distract himself. his stomach is rolling with waves or butterflies and when he catches joyce's eye in the front row, she mimes taking in a deep breath which he instantly copies. the soft grin she sends in return tells him that he thinks it could actually work to settle him. mothers have that healing way about them.

he’s never been good with weddings, always fidgeting in a too tight suit his mom picked out, but he never thought he’d be this antsy at his own.

steve's just about to give up and sprint down the aisle to get eddie so they can run away together and leave nerves and or butterflies behind him, but then the music stops. he sees lucas changing out the tapes quickly, giving a thumbs up to mike who throws one to will who runs back behind the shed to where he knows eddie is waiting and when will pops his head back out to run back to his seat, it hits him.

he's getting married.

steve doesn't have time to think about it anymore than he already has been for the last 8 years because eddie's coming around the corner of the shed.

'here comes the sun' is playing out over the speakers, soft and perfect, and eddie's smiling, wide and beautiful, and steve can't help but mirror it back to him. the clouds overhead seem to hear them, hear the song and hear their hearts beating in time with each other, because as soon as eddie gets to the aisle, bright warm rays of sunlight peak out and make the rhinestones he demanded line the lapels of his own black tux shine like real diamonds.

steve stops breathing. he swears he does, and he knows his family are all feeling the same way. he can hear a few gasps, hears joyce muttering what she thinks is a silent, "oh my god," in hop's ear, and watches how wayne stands up just a bit straighter from his front row seat.

eddie glides down the aisle like the drama king he is, soaking in the looks from everyone they care about and soaking in the sun that seems to come out only for him. it's like the sun knows he's a star, too, and wants to come out to be with one of it's own. eddie's always been sunshine and starlight and a blinding thing to look at and take in. he's the light, steve's the moth, and a few clouds on their wedding day could never change it.

"well, that was insanely good timing," eddie whispers to steve once he reaches him. his grin softens and he brings up a hand to wipe gently at the tear tracks on steve's cheeks. "hi, baby."

and steve can do nothing but choke out a laugh, catching eddie's hand in his own so he press a kiss to his palm. he thinks he can feel eddie's heartbeat against his lips and, even if it's his brain playing tricks on him, he likes the sentiment that it brings. "i love you so fucking much."

it's eddie's turn to get teary-eyed and the sun glints off the tears that fall down his cheek before heading back behind the clouds, dotting quick-to-fade sparkles on his face like a wedding present.

steve kisses him. he can't help it. it's nothing but a fast press of lips, watery smile to watery smile, and everyone is cheering except for robin.

"hey! it's not time for that yet," she says with a pretend scowl, arms pressing to each of their chests to keep them apart. it's enough to leave nancy giggling where she stands behind eddie, her laugh like bells bouncing off of the trees surrounding them. "just give me like ten minutes and we'll have you married and you can kiss all you want then."

steve swears he can hear mike groan at that which cause him to grin which cause eddie to grin back and then they're holding hands like it's the only way to get through the next ten minutes. and it might just be the only way to get through it. knowing them, if they didn't hold on tight, one of them would make a move first and there'd be hands around waists and fingers tangled in hair and robin would hate them forever because she wouldn't get to do her speech.

it's after vows are shared, after rings are on fingers, after kisses are pressed to lips and cheeks and temples and hands and everything else they can quickly reach, that the two of them get some peace. everyone is inside eating snacks and drinking cheap champagne, and it goes unspoken that they're going to take some time for themselves. take some time to bask in their new maybe not-so-legally real but as real as could ever be in their hearts marriage.

they make their way, hand in hand like they've always been meant to do, to a table set up for them. eddie pops a bottle of champagne that they pass back and forth between themselves as they share cheesy smiles and champagne-laced kisses. and it's as they look into each other's eyes, fingers lacing so their rings clink softly against each other, that the sun peaks out to say hello once more.

[gilbertscurls]

The car heater hummed softly, filling the cabin with a cozy warmth as you leaned back in your seat. Outside, the world glowed in bursts of red, green, and gold, every house you passed more elaborately decorated than the last. Matt had insisted on this scenic drive, claiming he knew all the “hidden gems” of the neighborhood Christmas lights circuit.

“Alright, buckle up,” he said with a grin as he turned onto a particularly festive-looking street. “You’re about to witness some Grade-A holiday cheer—or some Grade-A chaos. Jury’s still out.”

You laughed, peering out the window as the first house came into view. The lawn was covered in inflatable decorations: snowmen, penguins, Santa in a hot air balloon, and even a T-Rex wearing a Santa hat.

“Ah, yes,” Matt said, pulling over to admire the scene. “Nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ like a prehistoric predator.”

You snorted. “It’s kind of amazing, though. Look at the detail on that T-Rex!”

He nodded sagely. “I bet the neighbors love it. Can you imagine waking up every morning to a dinosaur staring into your kitchen window?”

The two of you dissolved into laughter before he shifted the car into gear and continued down the street. At each stop, his commentary became more ridiculous.

One house had synchronized lights blinking to holiday music blasting from hidden speakers. “You think they’ve got a DJ in there?” Matt asked, squinting at the house. “Or maybe Santa moonlights as a music producer.”

Another featured a life-sized nativity scene, complete with what appeared to be a homemade camel. “That camel,” he said, leaning closer to the windshield, “looks like it’s seen some things. Like, seriously questioning its life choices.”

By the time you reached a house with an entire roof covered in glowing reindeer, you were wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “Matt, stop,” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath. “My stomach hurts!”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “I’m just saying, someone had to climb up there with eight glowing deer. That’s dedication—and maybe a little insanity.”

As the evening wore on, the houses became more extravagant, and so did Matt’s quips. But there was a moment of quiet awe when you pulled up to a house draped in cascading lights, shimmering like a waterfall. The trees were wrapped in strands of white, and a glowing archway led up to the front door.

“Wow,” you said softly, taking in the sight.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, his voice quieter now. “This one’s pretty amazing.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the silence broken only by the occasional car passing by. You glanced over at him, catching the way the lights reflected in his eyes, softening his usually playful expression.

“Thanks for this,” you said, nudging his arm gently. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He turned to you, his grin returning. “What, a night of laughing at other people’s decorations? It’s a holiday tradition.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver. “No, just… this. Spending time with you. It’s been perfect.”

He reached over, taking your hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Anytime. You’re the best co-pilot for this kind of thing.”

As he started the car again, the next display came into view, and he immediately launched into another round of commentary, pulling you right back into fits of laughter. And as the night stretched on, filled with twinkling lights and endless jokes, you couldn’t help but think that this, right here, was what made the holidays truly special.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry

[whereserpentswalk]

You've been on a generational ship your entire life. There's about a million people on the ship, the population doesn't grow or shrink at all. Your entire life is and will be defined by a limited amount of room, a small space, barely large enough for everyone there to fit, that has become your entire world.

The humans that exist on generational ships are very alien to the humans that exist on planets. Your job is to maintain the ship and carry the culture of humanity but you don't need a human lifestyle to do it. Because reproduction needs to be done through artificial wombs all humans are neutered, with sterile sexless bodies. Everyone's job is determined by ship authority, and very dark things happen to those not able to perform some sort of duty. People spend the first fifteen years of their lives in virtual reality, learning about humanity in a simulation until they're ready to live as adults. Everything is so alien from the earth that you read about in books.

It wouldn't be so hard if society wasn't meant to resemble earth, meant to resemble the most conservative and traditional of earth. The American flags hanging up on the walls, despite everyone alive on board having never known America. The way the pods you live in have astroterf lawns, and fake blue skies painted above them, and the facades of American suburban homes. The way resources a distributed from things meant to look like family run stores, despite the monolithic power behind the economy. Even as monolithic as station authority is it still must dress as democracy, and must preach capitalism in a world with no markets, and patriotism in a world with no nations.

Despite your sexless body you're not free of performing gender. You wear dresses over your breastless neutered body, are expected to act feminine, to carry gender rolls into the planet you're going to. Your husband is expected to do the same for maleness. You love him but your situation feels like a performance with no audience. Despite having neither the instinctual desire nor the physical apparatus to you try to be physically intimate with him, it's what everyone does with their spouse, it would be weird not to.

Space isn't as empty as earth thought it would be. There are things that lurk in the void between stars. Nobody fully knows what they are, where they come from, even if they all come from the same place. Sometimes they put the ship in danger, sometimes the authorities make deals with them. But nobody is allowed to know. You're just all told to be afraid of them but not understand why you have to be afraid. The nightmares between stars aren't delt with with knowledge but with ignorance, they do seem creepy from the little you've seen of them but everyone kind of knows their power is being used for something by the station. Patriotism is always helped by having monsters beyond your borders.

Your entire you've dreamed of blue skies and stars and fields and forests and oceans and all those pretty things you've never seen, that you never will see. People always dream of being so high ranking they'll have access to suspended animation and life extension technology, but so few ever reach that rank. You've read all the classics they allow, read Dante, and Milton, and Homer, tried to let poetry bring you to earth but that planet is alien to you now. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you weren't raised in a world that copied earth, if you were accepted as a member of a race that lives on a ship, that exists so liminally. Would there still be such a longing. Mabye you shouldn't have been expected to meet a standard from another world. Mabye you weren't born to long for anything. Does it scare you to think you wouldn't want earth if they didn't tell you to?

[hamaylfabrics]

https://www.hamayldesignerhub.com

[20dollarlolita]

(It's been entirely too long since we've started a tutorial with a very blurry picture, which is a 20dollarlolita tradition. Am I about to fall over and only staying upright because of a death grip on this trim? Stay tuned to find out)

Let's make a skirt.

There's a lot of lolita fashion that doesn't fit most people. It's me. I'm most people. I'm going to wear it anyway, so I'm going to resize that to fit me.

The hardest part of resizing a lolita skirt (or skirt part of a dress) is that you almost never can get the fabric that the skirt was made out of. Lolita prints are usually pretty limited run. While some dresses will let you redistribute the fabric to have a slightly less full skirt, that's usually a major reconstruction that ends up drifting a bit away from the lolita shape.

x

A ruffled bustle bustle, however, is pretty common. Bustles like this are pretty common in lolita fashion and add an additional detail. In addition, you can make the waist of the skirt several inches bigger without a problem, and without compromising skirt fullness. If you ever want to undo the alteration, seaming the skirt back up is not very difficult. It's not a fully seamlessly reversible alteration, but there's far worse things you could do to the garment (ask me about my AP dress with mesh pits).

The problem is that bustles like this take quite a bit of energy and fabric, especially if you want to have details like lace trim. It's one of the more time-consuming alterations to do.

Or you can make one bustle/ruffle underskirt, one time, and wear it with all your skirt and dress modifications. You can splurge and get some nice trim and get some nice fabric, because you only need to buy it once. You can also wear it as a standalone skirt. (Just remember to never, ever steam it before taking pictures. You wouldn't want to look competent)

I put off making one of these for a very long time, because I'd made the process much more complicated in my head than it turned out needing to be. Once I was building this and realized I needed to simplify the fuck down, this became a really easy project.

Materials: I decided to make the ruffles on my skirt out of eyelet lawn, which is a cotton fabric that has an all-over embroidery. I got this for about $10 a yard on ebay. I don't have a very accurate judgement of how much I used on the skirt. I bought 4 yards and used probably 3.5, but I also wasted a bunch of fabric on an extra tier that I had to chop off. I wanted a fabric with more detail than broadcloth, but that wasn't exclusively going to work with OTT styling.

I got 30 yards of 1/2" Venise lace off cheeptrims.com for $9. I really recommend putting lace on your ruffles if you can. It really adds to the detail level, and you only need to buy it once. You already have to hem all of this so you might as well hem it with lace.

You will also want some fabric for the slip layer (for want of a better term) to attach the ruffles to. My ruffles were a little bit sheer, so I wanted an opaque base fabric for modesty. Depending on the look you're going for, you can also use this layer to add some subtle detailing or changes to the finished look. If you're only wearing it with over-the-top looks, using a base fabric with shine or glitter can stop your ultrabustle from looking too plain. If you're wanting your ruffles to lay flatter, getting a soft fabric with a lot of drape will make the ruffles droopier. I just used some weird cotton plainweave that I got at Green Store for 75% off due to a bolt-long defect.

I used 1" elastic in the waistband here, because this skirt can get a little bit heavy, and then you often have another skirt on top of it adding to the weight.

The other thing that I used that made this much easier was a ruffling attachment for my serger. You don't need to use a serger, but a ruffling or gathering attachment that allows you to ruffle a flat strip of fabric and sew it onto another piece of (not to-be-ruffled) fabric will speed things up considerably. I know a lot of people buy a ruffler or a gathering foot when they start sewing lolita, and then are disappointed when they don't use it very much. There's a very limited number of lolita applications for these attachments, and I'm happy to tell you that this is one of them. If you don't have one, you don't need to go buy one. You can just do the two-step process of gathering the fabric and then sewing it on. But if you wanted an excuse to go buy one, well, you have one.

The Plan:

So I'd previously made a lot of math and calculations for how each tier was going to gather into the previous one, and then realized during the build phase that actually was way too complicated.

What we need is a rectangle with ruffles on it gathered into a waistband. Yes, a rectangle. I know, I was stunned too, but the final result worked the best.

I wanted the tops of the ruffles to be hidden in seams. If you just sew ruffled strips onto a single piece of fabric, it's very difficult to hide all the raw edges and to make sure you're not spreading loose threads all over the place. We're going to make ruffled strips, and sew them to each other. This covers up the raw edges very nicely.

This also will allow you to slightly gather the second and top tiers to each other, if you want to make this skirt in an a-line instead of a bell/cupcake shape.

The Math:

If you know what skirts you're planning on wearing your ultrabustle with, it can help to measure them and get a good guideline.

Generally, you want your ultrabustle to be a number somewhere within these guidelines.

~~Close to the same length of the skirt you're wearing it with or ~~4"ish longer than the skirt you're wearing it with. (This depends on if you want the bottom ruffle to stick out. If you're Tallita and all the skirts and dresses you're resizing are also too short, you might want this to double as a ruffled underskirt) and ~~An acceptable length to wear as a skirt all on its own.

My first run at this ultrabustle was WAY too long, and after chopping off the entire top tier, it ended up being either 1" shorter or 1" longer than the skirts I'm planning on wearing it with, which is a great number for me.

As for the total fullness of the skirt, you have to remember that the ruffles will add visual volume to the skirt. This means that you don't actually need the hemline of your skirt to be super full. All that matters is that your petticoat can comfortably squeeze in there. For this, I measured the hemline of the smallest dress that I had that still fit my petticoat, and used that. It turned out to be about 80" around.

So, what sizes do we cut this at? It's math time.

Here's a worksheet if you want. You're going to need to know how long you want the finished skirt, how wide you want the hem of the slip (not the ruffle) of the skirt, how many ruffle layers you want, and your waist measurement.

The slip needs to be shorter than the ruffles, so it doesn't show. So total slip length is your skirt length minus 2.5". Divide that by the number of ruffle layers that you have, and you'll have how long to cut each of those. This is slip tier short side.

Each ruffle layer needs to be longer than each slip layer, so that the slip doesn't show. You want each ruffle to overlap the previous one. So, take your slip tier short side and add 2-3" (or more, if you want). This is your ruffle short side.

Your finished slip diameter is your slip tier long side. That one's easy.

If you're a math and planning person, you can determine your ruffle long side measurement. You'll want to take a piece of your fabric, cut to the ruffle short side measurement and also about 45+ inches wide, and a piece of your slip fabric. Run them both through your gathering attachment so that your ruffle fabric is sewn onto your slip fabric. If you like how that looks, you can then measure the finished length of the ruffled fabric and use that to calculate how much fabric you'll need for the ruffles. There's four places where people mess this up. First of all, if you're using your gathering attachment to sew and gather at the same time (which is the point of that attachment), you want to do all your test runs gathering it onto a fabric. The amount of fabric that goes into a machine ruffle changes depending on if it's onto fabric or just gathering. Second, you want to use your finished fabric, at your finished ruffle length. Different fabrics will ruffle different amounts, and different ruffle widths will look different even at the same gathering amount. Third mistake people make is to not gather a long enough strip. The longer a strip you gather, the more accurately you can measure how much fabric is actually going into your ruffle. And the fourth is to take that measure as an accurate one, and not plan for needing extra fabric. The upside of the gathering attachment is that it will save you so much time. The downside is that you can't be as accurate with knowing how much fabric you'll use. Remember, you can always turn the leftovers into a matching accessory. Even if you're going to go yolo like I did and not do the math about how many ruffles you need, you will still want to run a check that you like how your ruffling attachment looks. You don't need to measure super accurately, but try to get a feel for how much fabric is going into each ruffle. For example, if your ruffler takes a strip and makes it 1/3 it's flat size, then you'll need more fabric than if your ruffler makes it 1/2 it's flat size. If you're really on a budget, you can just cut your ruffles at 2.5x your slip long dimension and precisely gather by hand. My time's worth something to me and so it wasn't worth it to do that just to save a yard of $10 fabric.

The last part is just to check that your ruffle long dimension (or it's rough approximation) is still at least 2.75x your waist measure (3.25 is better). If you don't have that, your skirt likely won't look full enough for a lolita silhouette. If that's the case, just add to your skirt dimension until it is.

Actually making it:

Before you forget, cut out a piece for your waistband. You can decide if this looks better in your ruffle fabric or your slip fabric (I used slip). This piece should be 3ish" longer than the distance around the fullest part of your booty. You need this to be longer than your booty distance so that you can get it on your body. If you're using 1" elastic, you want this piece to be a minimum of 3" wide.

I've found that the easiest way to do this is to start out by making the whole skirt as a single, very long strip. So, I take my slip tiers and cut them all out, and sew them into a long strip.

On my specific fabric, I decided that I wanted the pattern on the eyelet to go lengthwise. So, instead of cutting the fabric across the grain (short side, selvedge to selvedge) like I normally would, I cut down the 4 yard length of the fabric. This meant a lot less seaming. Since I didn't really know how much fabric I was going to use (you know that test I described to check how much fabric you're going to use? Yeah, guess who didn't do that), I just cut them one 4-yard strip at a time. I'd ruffle one all the way, stop, and cut the next one. This did actually save me quite a bit of fabric versus cutting them all at once. I had to go back and sew the sides of the ruffle together once the skirt was done. It was a small price to pay for the convenience I experienced.

I knew what size I wanted the finished ruffle length to be, but I cut my ruffles about 2.5" longer than that. I wanted a little bit of wiggle room once the skirt was done, so that I could do the length adjustment once the whole skirt was assembled.

And then, it's just a matter of letting the ruffler do its work. My serger ruffler works by you putting the item to-be-ruffled on the bottom, and the item to attach the ruffle to on the top, and then just hitting go. Some other rufflers work by putting the to-be-ruffled at the top, so you can see it as you go. Like all sewing machine attachments, if you're not sure, just go on youtube and search "HOW SINGER GATHERING FOOT DO THING NOT LOOK LIKE SHIT?" and someone's probably made a video of it.

So, once you've run all your ruffle through your machine, you should have a nice single strip of slip fabric with a ruffle on top of it. Now, some gathering attachments don't actually sew super strong seams, because you have to adjust tension or stitch length pretty severely to get it to ruffle like you want. The other advantage of putting the ruffles in a seam instead of just topstitching them onto a piece of fabric is that it doesn't matter how strong your ruffle attachment is, as long as it's strong enough to hold until you can put the ruffle in the seam. The seam provides the strength.

Once you have your single long ruffle, cut off a section that's the diameter of your bottom tier.

Now you just need to sew them together (and finish your inside edges). I like to start at the bottom tier and go up.

For each tier, you're sewing the bottom of the slip layer to the top (ruffle and slip) of the tier below. Just pull the ruffle of the higher tier out of the way, put right sides together, and sew.

If you aren't using a serger, you can zigzag over your edges and then trim them down, use an overcasting stitch from your sewing machine, or topstitch some seam binding over the seams. The extra line of stitching on the slip layers in front won't be visible. One of the other nice things about building this in the way we have is that, when you finish the edges of your inside seams, you're putting three layers together and finishing it as one. This is actually a lot less then 1/3 of the work of finishing them separately, because you'd have to finish the ruffle as a flat piece, which would take way more time. Have I convinced you on the greatness of this technique yet?

Continue cutting pieces off your ruffle layer and stacking them until you have as many layers as you decided you were going to have.

Once you have your layers all stacked up on each other, it's time to sew the skirt back seam. I find that it looks best to hold the ruffles out of the way, sew the slip together, and then go back and sew all the ruffle pieces. Basically now is a good time to just check for any ugly spots and to touch them up.

There's like 50 ways to attach a waistband to a skirt. For this one I used this method (what a blast from the 20dollarlolita past we have there. Also please note that the cost of ruffler feet seems to have gone up from $15 to $60-$100 in the past 10 years and despite working in a sewing machine store, I'm not totally sure why).

Once you've got the whole skirt assembled, it's time for the finishing.

The first thing that I did was put it on and try to judge how short I wanted my top ruffle. I'd cut all my ruffles extra long in the short dimension, so that I could shorten them when they were on the skirt. I picked a length that worked, marked it out, and chopped at that point. I then did this for the other two layers. I found that I wanted my bottom ruffle to be a little bit longer than my top ones, and cutting it long allowed me to make that choice.

I then started just zigagging on my lace. If you don't have a serger, you can use the lace as a hem finish, which also saves you an additional step. The lace really added a lot to this, and since I only need to make this once to wear with a lot of different garments, it was an economical use of nice lace.

I started putting the lace on the top layer first. This is because, if I ran out of lace, having a different (wider) lace on the bottom layer wouldn't look strange. As previously mentioned, I did zero measuring of how long my ruffles are, and had no idea if 27 yards would be enough lace. Don't be like me. Do some tests. Or be like me and choose the life of treachery. Anyway, stick lace on this thing, please. You worked hard and your skirts deserve it.

The only other thing that I did was to cut the slip layer down by about 3" on the very bottom. I did this because I made a mistake, but I like how it looks.

You can take this system of ataching ruffles in rectangles or even a trapezoid and stick it in the back of a skirt (or skirt on a dress). I did that here because I knew that I wanted a pink bustle, not a white one.

I'll do a tutorial for the actual skirt resizing sometime after I actually resize a skirt with this. Here, all I did was slice the back, hem those edges, and then button on some waist ties from another dress. This let me easily add several inches to the back of this skirt, without needing to re-distribute pleats, and without sacrificing the fullness of the shape.

This will all sit a little bit better once I've pressed the skirt, as well. Steaming the top layer of this while the garment is on me/a dress form/a hanger will decrease the poof in the top layer a little bit, and honestly, we could benefit from that in this case.

Anyway, if you have this, you have a very fast way to enlarge existing garments.

So, while this has thankfully very much decreased in the past years, there's still some people with weird opinions on MoDiFyInG bUrAnDo, so let's have a talk. Lolita clothing is not community owned. If someone who was never going to sell a dress to you modifies it, that doesn't take it away from you. This is a mentality that we tend to have in lolita more than other fashion just because of our high resell scene, but it wasn't ever going to be your dress and so you don't need to have an opinion about what happens to a thing you were never going to personally own. Things have value more than money, and value is often changed rather than destroyed. AP's Halloween Treats OP has no value to me when sold for $500 on Lacemarket. I don't spend that much money on lolita, ever. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP that I can un-alter has value to me if the price is good. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP has very little value to someone who likes the price, but can't undo the alterations. When someone resizes a dress or skirt, true, sometimes the people who are the size it was originally made can't wear it anymore. You've decreased the value to them, but you've made it more valuable to people who are the size that you've made the garment become. This skirt had no value to me when it's waist measure is 7.5" too small, but now I can wear it, so it has functional value to me. A lot of people who say that modifying the dress ruins it are either ignoring that also the stress of putting a dress not sized large enough for your body can damage it and not look as great while doing so, or else they have a much worse take. People who say that modifying clothes ruins the garment, but also say that wearing a garment that's too small ruins the garment, what they're actually saying is that wearing that garment is a privilege that should not be extended to larger sized people, and if they say that then they can just, you know, go fuck themselves. We don't need that in the community. Everyone deserves to wear lolita, and some people have to work harder to achieve it, and that's not fair, but everyone deserves it.

So yeah, kiddos! Build a skirt! Go cut up some clothes! Wear the skirts you've always wanted to wear! You can do anything!

And to answer the question we opened this with, yes, I was absolutely falling over.

[bedsyandco]

https://www.tumblr.com/hhughes/755036725477359616/httpswwwtumblrcomhhughes755036373372829696w

was it azalea's first time celebrating the 4th of july since she's canadian? imagine quinn being so excited to show her their family's traditions and such

and vi wears a bikini with the american flag and luke can't keep his hands off her and even gets playfully scolded by ellen lol

jim at the barbecue and quinn is helping him while azzie teases him about being a good cook

jack pushing vi into the lake when she's trying to tan and then being so worried about anyone other than him or daisy holding rosie in the water (she loves it)

them making s'mores sitting around the fireplace later and rosie drops hers on cole's foot by accident

and little rosie is soooo tired at the time of the fireworks so she's crying a bit in jacks arms cause she gets scared but she had the best day ever with all the uncles and aunts - 👩‍⚕️

gonna answer all of these individually because they’re all such good thoughts bestie and I simply can’t neglect any of them. . .

was it azalea's first time celebrating the 4th of july since she's canadian? imagine quinn being so excited to show her their family's traditions and such

it was azzie’s first time celebrating july fourth. her family was a little sad that she was gonna miss canada day (while she had time to fly between van and michigan , she just wasn’t up for the travels honestly) but she was really excited to spend the time with quinn’s family. there was even some extended family like little cousins and such which azzie loved because she probably won’t see those members of his family much during the year. it was really just nice getting to know his brothers, his parents and ofc vi and daisy. quinn was so excited to have her there and he was just so sweet. including her in all the family games, explaining the rules to make sure she didn’t feel excluded, he even made ellen make one of her mom’s desserts to make her feel a bit more at ease. azzie fit right in though, everyone adored her.

and vi wears a bikini with the american flag and luke can't keep his hands off her and even gets playfully scolded by ellen lol

vi wearing a bikini with the american flag print is just so violet coded to me for some reason? and luke would love it. luke and vi not being able to keep their hands to themselves is just so canon in this au at this point😭 they are always attached at the hip, connected in some way, pressing kisses at random places. they are just so touchy. at one point ellen is just like “will you please refrain from mauling your girlfriend in front of an audience,” and he’d just press one last kiss to violet’s lips before sending his mom a sheepish/apologetic smile. but everyone is used to them by now.

jim at the barbecue and quinn is helping him while azzie teases him about being a good cook

azzie, daisy and ellen sitting in lawn chairs close to the barbecue each with a glass of wine in their hands while they keep quinn and jim company. luke, violet, jack and rosie are playing some type of game on the grass. I do think cooking is something that azzie and quinn love to do together and for each other as a sign of their love.

jack pushing vi into the lake when she's trying to tan and then being so worried about anyone other than him or daisy holding rosie in the water (she loves it)

violet laying on the dock and jack just flipping her towel so she drops in the water. she’s perfectly fine, except for the little splinter in her palm when she clinged to the dock with one hand, cursing him out and promising to get him back but luke saw it happen and he wasn’t very happy. “you shouldn’t do that when she’s that close to the dock. she could’ve hit her head,” luke argues and despite violet reassuring him that she’s fine and her head was far from hitting the dock luke is insisting that jack take her safety more seriously. if luke was gonna take extra precautions to make sure he kept daisy and especially rosie safe whenever they were in his presence, jack could return the same favour.

them making s'mores sitting around the fireplace later and rosie drops hers on cole's foot by accident

this is so funny😭 he is trying so hard not to curse in her presence but fuck did it burn. “you are so lucky that you’re cute and I love you,” cole says, hissing as he lifts his foot to inspect the marshmallow that fell onto his foot. she gives uncle cole lots of snuggles afterwards and he completely forgets about it.

and little rosie is soooo tired at the time of the fireworks so she's crying a bit in jacks arms cause she gets scared but she had the best day ever with all the uncles and aunts

daisy and jack got her ear plugs just in case she still happened to be awake at the time of the fireworks but someone started firing theirs early and it scared poor rosie so bad, she definitely started crying and hiding in jack’s chest. but he gets the ear plugs and she lays on her dad’s chest while watching the variety of colours fill the sky, and her little snores fill the air shortly after.

[lemon-dokuro]

Continuing to watch Black Butler and... Reapers are really funny. They're just japanese salarymen and office ladies. In the shinigami OVA (Shinigami Will no Monogatari) they show how they operate and it's through this huge bureaucratic office organisation thing. Really funny, especially consideting the setting. They also all wear glasses. Because they're all near-sighted. Because their eyes are magic or something. Their bureaucratic organisation has a whole Glasses Department. Their glasses are all custom-made by one old guy, who's been doing this for at least a hundred years. They get their custom glasses after passing their trainee exam. It's a status symbol. This is moe, in a neutral sense. They're reaping souls with gardening tools as well, no less. Utterly shamelessly anachronistic modern gardening tools in this Victorian England-set show. I dare not ask where they get them. The logic here is understandable (the traditional reaper's scythe is a gardening tool => why not give them different gardening tools to spice it up), but it's really funny. But that's not even it. Very often, they mod their gardening tools. For fun and fashion, probably? They have to get it approved with the scythe approving department (which exists), but apparently it's common to customize them. Having to get it approved first implies an imposed set of restrictions, right? What in the world are they? There's apparently this guy with a modded lawn mower which is 100% rule-compliant. But Grelle's standard regular chainsaw isn't? According to William in his first appearance, it's not. Though, judging by the phrasing (使用許可申請書を提出していない死神の鎌), maybe she just didn't do the paperwork for it and it's a bureaucratic issue.

Toboso Yana. Release the grim reaper death scythe approval criteria list. And the application form too, please. (unless she already did ages ago)

[inbloomwriting]

the ledges of our lives II Tommy Miller

Plot: Tommy has been in love with (Y/N) since the first moment he laid eyes on her. One fateful 4th of July he finally tells her how he feels and nothing can keep them apart ... except maybe the apocalypse.

Pairing: Tommy Miller x female reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, semi-sad ending

Notes: Friends lovers. Not necessarily a happy ending but not super sad either. 8.9k words.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The Millers don’t shoot fireworks on the 4th of July, they never have, at least not that Sarah can remember. No one has ever really said why, it was just an unspoken thing they all adhered to. Like a special non-tradition in their family. Sarah thinks it might have something to do with the sticker on her dad’s car, she doesn’t mention it though. 

The Millers aren’t big on parties either, it’s mostly just Sarah and her dad and uncle Tommy — and (Y/N). Just to four of them in their perfect little harmony. (Y/N)’s been there from the start, a friend of Uncle Tommy’s who entered their lives and found a permanent place in all their hearts. She’s part of the family as much as the rest of them. Where Tommy is (Y/N) is and the other way around. Sometimes Sarah wonders why the two of them aren’t dating, it would make so much sense, they’re married as it is. But then again, she’s 14 years old. What does she know about messy grown-up romance?

A heavy heat rests upon Austin on the 4th of July of 2003. The kind that makes your hair go frizzy and your clothes stick to your skin. Joel’s turned on the sprinklers a while ago, after some soft nagging from Sarah. He’s been grumbling about how it’ll ruin the lawn to have them on while the sun burns down on the grass. He’s ended up chasing his daughter through the spray of water anyway, earning a round of laughter from the girl.

The radio is playing quietly in the background, mostly drowned out by the sizzling of the steaks on the grill. They were supposed to grill hot dogs but the shop was all out of buns. So steaks and veggie skewers it is. 

“Harrold is crazy if he thinks we're gonna pay that much for some copper pipes. Lost his damn mind. Hey - are you even listening to me?"

Tommy's eyes snap up to meet his brother's amused smirk. 

“What? What’s the shit-eating grin for?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Just nice to know where your attention is at.” 

Joel nods his head towards the other end of the backyard where the picnic table sits that he and Tommy built when Sarah was just a little kid. There are handprints on the wood, his in blue, Tommy’s in green, (Y/N)’s in Orange, and Sarah’s tiny handprint in purple. Another summer years ago that seems so far away and yet it feels like nothing has changed. 

"That sundress is really doing a number on you, huh?"

Tommy's gaze flits towards the girls as they are sitting at the picnic table, playing cards in hand and bright smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) is wearing a yellow sundress, so bright and vibrant it rivals the sun itself. She looks damn good in it. Like a vision plugged straight from a dream Tommy's had once or twice (or many nights but who's counting).

"No idea what you're talking about, old man."

Joel lets out that familiar scoff, the one Tommy knows so well after all these years. He’s had the same scoff even as a child. The kind that lets you know he doesn’t believe a single word you’re saying without him having to tell you outright. It’s infuriating when it’s directed at you and hilarious when directed at someone else. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” 

“Sure you don’t, knucklehead. Look, I’m just wondering if you’re ever going to do something about — this,” Joel exclaims and motions his beer bottle between his younger brother and the goddess in the sundress sitting just a few steps away.

It’s not the first time they’re having this conversation. In fact, Tommy's had this conversation countless times before with pretty much all of his friends, his parents, even Sarah has mentioned it before. And quite a few times with Joel too. 

Maybe the question wouldn’t bother him so much if it didn’t force him to think about the what-ifs himself. Like what-if he actually mustered up the courage to make a move, and what-if she said yes? But then what-if she said no and everything they have now would be utterly destroyed never to be repaired? 

He doesn’t think of himself as a coward, in fact, he knows he’s given his mother more than one heart attack in his lifetime by being just a little bit too reckless. But there is something absolutely terrifying to him when it comes to making a move with (Y/N). She’s been part of his life since he was just a 10-year-old lanky kid with a big mouth and an even bigger ego. She liked him then and she likes him now and is it really worth risking all the love she gives him now for a what-if?

“Since when have you become a love expert, huh?” 

“I haven’t, “ Joel replies and takes a sip of beer “ I just know when things work and you guys, you seem to work.” 

He’s right but Tommy is never going to admit that. Joel would never let him hear the end of it and there’s hardly anything more annoying than proving Joel right. 

“And I get it, she’s beautiful and smart and — “

“Okay, cool it. You wanna make a move on her?” 

Joel gives him that snarl that reminds him so much of his dad and the way he used to look at Tommy and Joel when they were kids and he disapproved of something stupid they did.

“Don’t even go there, kid.” 

Kid. He hates when Joel pulls the older brother card. Then again, he could’ve done so much worse when it comes to family, when it comes to brothers. With all his faults and quirks, Joel is a good guy. He’s loyal and protective and he puts family above anything and everything else. Just don’t tell him that, he’ll deny being a good guy. He’s humble like that.

“Just don’t want you to regret not doing anything about it when it’s too late.”

Before his mind can wander off too far, further down the road paved with what-ifs and sickeningly sweet visions of a future unknown, (Y/N)’s voice cuts through his brain fog.

“Oh, I love that song! Turn up the radio, boys!”

The opening chords of “Here comes your man” by the Pixies fill the air, louder when Tommy turns the little dial up a notch or two.

She’s on her feet, barefoot dancing on the grass, illuminated by the hot July sun, pulling Sarah up to dance with her. 

The younger girl starts moving begrudgingly but even she isn’t immune to the contagious enthusiasm that (Y/N) radiates and two seconds later she’s dancing along as if she was never hesitant in the first place. 

There’s just something about (Y/N). 

“Her taste in music, however — “ Joel teases before turning over the steaks as they sizzle on the grill. 

Tommy doesn’t mind the teasing. Not right now. He hardly processes it. Not when in front of him, he gets to watch his whole world twirl in the sun and laugh as if life has never been sweeter. 

"Here comes your maaaan!" 

She can't hit a note if her life depends on it and it doesn't matter to Tommy at all. Not in the slightest. He loves hearing her sing. He loves when she unapologetically lets herself enjoy the little things in life. Like a good-bad song.

"… and here comes the food!" 

Joel isn't quite as enamored with her bad singing as his younger brother is but even he can't stop the corner of his lips from pulling up. There's just something about her that hits each member of the Miller family straight to the heart. 

By the time the steaks and veggies are gone, the sun is about to dip behind the horizon.

Dusk paints the sky in pinks and purples and fireflies start blinking all over the yard like tiny stars.

The air has cooled down with the sun saying its farewell for the day and if things were different they’d stay out here a little longer. Not today though. 

Where other people gather their friends and family to watch the sky be illuminated by a kaleidoscope of colors, the Millers call it an early night and make their way inside before the first firework is lit. 

The Miller’s Fourth of July ends on the couch with a movie playing on the TV and when the outside world gets loud, they just turn up the volume a little more.

“Swing away Merrill. …” 

“Fucking water?! They want me to believe the solution to an alien invasion is fucking water?! ON EARTH?!” 

Joaquin Phoenix flickers across the screen, fighting an Alien with the help of a baseball bat and a bunch of abandoned glasses of water but Tommy can’t seem to keep his eyes off of (Y/N). Her hair messed up from dancing around the yard all day, from sweating and running through the sprinkler. Her lips wiped clear of the red lipstick she'd put on earlier. The slight shiny residue of sunscreen on her skin. 

And that look of absolute disbelief and outrage on her face.

“You’re telling me out of all the planets in the solar system, they chose to come to Earth? A planet that is 71% water? When that is their biggest weakness? Sounds highly implausible to me, honestly.” 

She scrunches her nose in irritation and for a split second, Tommy sees the little girl again that he first befriended all those years ago.

“Darling, it’s a movie about Aliens. It doesn’t have to be plausible. It just has to be entertaining.” 

Letting out a huff, she sinks further into the couch. “Well, it can’t have been too entertaining either.” 

Motioning her head towards the other couch, Tommy lets his eyes follow only to be met with a much familiar sight.

Sarah is fast asleep, legs thrown over Joel’s lap and head resting on the side of the couch. It looks anything but comfortable but it doesn’t seem to bother her much judging by her snoozing away softly. Her soft snores are accompanied by Joel’s loud rattling ones. 

“Sarah’s a kid, what does she know about cinema? And Joel has always had shit taste in movies, even when we were kids.”

“Tommy, babe.” (Y/N) exclaims and places a soft hand on his biceps. He wonders if she knows that even a touch as small as this one, as insignificant, makes his heart race. “I hate to tell you this but Alien movies are a bit shit in general.” 

“You say that now, but just you wait. The day we get invaded I will be prepared and you will be sitting here wishing you had paid attention to these movies.” 

He loves the giggle that falls from her lips. If sunshine made a sound he’s sure it would sound like her laugh. Even if it comes with her making fun of him. He’ll take all the teasing if it means he gets to hear her laugh.

“So are you saying if we got invaded by Aliens you’d just let me get abducted? Is that what I am hearing?”

“Absolutely. And you best be telling me everything once they bring you back.”

“You’re full of shit, Tommy Miller. You’d go crazy without me. Hell, I’m only leaving for 3 months this summer and you’re already whining about it.” 

She’s right and he hates thinking about it. Back when they were kids she went to visit her grandparents in Montana every summer and Tommy was miserable without her. Those visits grew few and far between as they got older but with her grandfather suffering a broken leg and her grandmother unable to tend to their farm all by herself it served as the perfect opportunity for (Y/N) to fly out and relish in childhood nostalgia.

“I’m not whining, Darling. Just worried you’ll miss my handsome face too much.” 

“Oh please, you just — “

“Can you guys cut it out? People here are trying to sleep”, Joel’s gruff voice cuts through their bickering, putting an immediate stop to the conversation. 

“Sorry Joel” they reply in unison, like a pair of scolded children having been caught staying up past their bedtime. Though Joel pays no mind to their apology, his snores fill the room once again.

As Tommy turns back towards (Y/N), her arms are stretched out wide as a tired yawn leaves her body.

“You tired? Need a ride home?” 

“Are you offering?” 

“Always, baby.”

Tommy doesn’t consider himself a big romantic, doesn’t really believe in all those grand and larger-than-life rom-com ideas but sometimes when the fireflies light up the world outside and the air smells like sunscreen and campfire and when she looks at him with those beautiful eyes of her he gets a weird feeling that spreads all around his body. It fills him from the tip of his nose to his feet. Those moments make him reconsider for a second. Maybe the movies are onto something.

Even though the sun set a long time ago, the air outside is still thick and muggy. It makes the hair in the nape of his neck curl up and stick to his skin. 

It’s sticky and uncomfortable and yet, Tommy loves nights like these. They allow him to remember the boy he used to be. All those late summer nights with (Y/N) by his side, driving down back roads and shooting the shit and talking about everything one can only imagine. Those nights felt like they belonged to them only and like they lasted a lifetime. All that youthful magic caught in a moment. 

The windows are rolled down and Billy Joel is blasting from the beat-up car radio. (Y/N) is softly humming along to Summer, Highland Falls, eyes closed, messy-haired and barefoot, and a smile playing on her lips as she soaks up the gust of wind.

“You do know I was joking, right?” 

She opens her eyes and looks at him with that infinite softness that she reserves for certain people only. Mostly him and Sarah and Joel.

“About what?” 

“The Alien thing.” 

“Huh? You mean to tell me you’re not prepared for an invasion after all.” 

He retorts with a gentle nudge to the shoulder. “No, stupid. I mean that if something were to happen, anything at all, I would never leave you behind. I’d never let them take you.” 

“The metaphorical aliens.” 

“Yeah, those. And anyone else too. You know that, right? Sarah, Joel, and you, that’s all that matters to me.” 

This is as honest and raw as Tommy gets when it comes to talking about his feelings and emotions. He wasn’t raised like that. His dad was stoic and silent and filled with toxic ideas of what a man should be and how a man should behave. Joel and Tommy have tried their best to unlearn a lot of the toxic traits their dad had bestowed on them, especially once Sarah came along, but some things just stick with you.

“I do know that. You know I’d do the same, right? You guys are my family. You are my family.” 

He wants to kiss her so badly. All the voices in his head are screaming at him to do it, just do it. She’s leaving tomorrow and won't be back until early October and by then he will probably have talked himself into chickening out once again.

But what if?

What if he kisses her and fucks it all up? 

“It′s either sadness or euphoria” 

And Billy is so right. 

The euphoria he would be thrilled to experience.

The sadness, he thinks, the sadness might kill him.

So he rids himself off the foolish little dreams, pushes them back to the furthest corner of his heart where they can live amongst themselves to only come to light when the night is lonely and Tommy feels like torturing himself.

He takes her hand, presses a gentle kiss on her knuckles, and nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I know.” 

And the wind blows through the open window, and the fireflies dance, and the crickets sing their song. He thinks they should call it “The Ballad of the Coward, Tommy Miller.” 

The gravel crunches under his wheels as Tommy pulls up (Y/N)’s driveway. He can’t help but think back to all the times he climbed the trellis up to (Y/N)’s window so the nights didn’t have to end yet. Back before her parents moved to Florida and gave the house to her. Now that childhood bedroom is an office and the trellis is overgrown with roses. 

As he turns off the ignition, the silence of the night settles upon them like a blanket. Things unsaid heavy in the air, resting on his shoulders. 

“I didn’t say it earlier but I am gonna miss you this summer. And Sarah,” (Y/N) says as she slips back into her sandals and grabs her bag from the backseat. “Joel too but don’t you dare tell him I said that.” 

A chuckle falls from Tommy’s lips. “He won’t hear a peep from me.” 

“You’re not gonna say it back?” 

“C’mon now, sweetheart. You know damn well that I’m gonna miss the shit out of you. I don’t have to tell you. You know.” 

There’s something in the way she looks at him right then. Something he thinks he’s seen before but can’t place, can’t name. After all these years there are still mysteries about her.

“I do know.”

Kiss her you fucking fool. He wants to, he really does. But his hands are stuck to the steering wheel and his feet bolted to the car. Even if he wanted to move, his body won’t let him.

“Anyway uh — have a good summer Tommy.” 

“You too. Have fun and tell your grandparents I said hi.” 

She throws him one last look before making it halfway up the path leading to her front door. Billy Joel continues singing about caviar and cabernet when (Y/N) stops in her tracks. Illuminated by the moonlight and that one tiny lamp by her front door, she looks almost ethereal. 

Tommy’s eyes meet hers across the driveway and she rushes back towards his side of the car.

“Hey, did you forget — “

Before he can finish the sentence she’s leaning into the car and pressing her lips against his with fierce determination.

It’s rushed and quick and for a second Tommy thinks he’s dreaming. He’s not though. This is real. The smell of her perfume and the feel of her hair and the taste of her lips on his.

The kiss is over before Tommy can even fully comprehend it even happened. All that is left is the knowledge that it did happen and the shocked look on (Y/N)’s face.

“Tommy I’m so sorry, I — “ 

“Don’t apologize. Let me get out.” 

“What?” 

“Let me get out of the car so I can kiss you properly.” 

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. As soon as she takes a step back, Tommy is out of the car and pulls (Y/N) into his arms. She’s so warm. So soft.

There is still a nagging voice inside his head that whispers poisonous “what ifs” to him. That tells him he’s not worth it, that he will ruin all they are. That he will ruin her.

But for this one fleeting moment, Tommy chooses not to listen to the worries and the doubts and those damn insecurities. 

Tonight he will kiss her stupid and he won’t feel any regret about it. He could never regret her.

With her back against the car and his hands on her hips, their lips meet again. This kiss is different. It’s years of longing and dreams they never allowed themselves to fully believe in all caught in one touch. Passionate and sweet and loving and desperate. 

Nothing ever felt or tasted like this. Nothing’s ever come close.

When they pull away, Tommy goes in for another one and then a third. He never wants this moment to end.

But he’s not delusional, he knows everything ends. Especially moments like this one. 

“I uh — wow.” 

“Mmmh…wow. How, why — I mean … what ?” 

“Tommy I meant to do this a long time ago I just always chickened out. Tell me I didn’t make a mistake.” 

He places another peck on her lips, a sign of reassurance, knowing he’s not good with words. 

“You didn’t make a mistake. I wanted this too. I want it, present tense.” 

“Okay, good. Good, I — eurgh I’m so annoyed I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” 

Tommy gently cradles her face in his hands. “It’s just 3 months, right? It will be over before we know it. And then we can talk about it and see where to go from here. I waited so long, what is 3 more months? After that, we have all the time in the world.” 

“Ugh, you’re right.”

“Course I am. I’m always right.”

“Sure you are,” she giggles and meets his lips in another sweet kiss. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you at the end of summer.”

“I’m counting down the days, baby.”

He’s called her baby countless times before but this one feels different. 

Watching her walk up towards her house is hard. All Tommy wants to do is pull her back into his arms and hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. But he knows he can’t and even if he did, he would never get enough. He would always want just a little bit more.

So he drives off knowing that by the end of summer, he’ll be able to call her his. Properly, entirely, forever.

September comes and with it the end of the world. 

(Y/N) wraps the thick knitted scarf tighter around herself trying to keep out the cold. To no avail. The cold is everywhere. It's permeating every article of clothing, sinking into her skin and settling all the way inside her bones.

She barely remembers the last time she didn’t feel this relentless cold throughout her entire body. It must have been before she was forced to leave the farm. Not a day in the wild has gone by without her feeling like she might freeze any moment now. Her skin feels raw and dry and burning and the only thing taking her mind off of the cold is the empty pit in her stomach.

It’s been 2 days since she ate the last of the dried jerky she took from the farm and ever since she’s been surviving on dry crackers and nuts. It’s not a lot. It’s barely enough. 

Long gone are warm summer nights in Austin or days on the farm surrounded by her family. There are no months or years. All there is now is the cold and death. And it’s never-ending.

A sound in the distance makes her head snap up. There is movement, 3 shapes moving towards her, big and fast. People on horses, she realizes as they come closer and her hand moves towards her gun. It’s not the undead walking which is good but there are worse things out there. Worse people than those that are people no more. Fates worse than death.

“Lady, drop the gun”, a voice cuts through the harsh winter air. 

“Not a chance!” 

“Drop the gun. We know you are alone, we can help you.” 

They always say that. We are friendly. We can help you.  They’re never friendly. And nowadays you can’t afford to trust strangers, especially not those who offer you help. They will leave you scarred — and that’s the best-case scenario.

It’s three men on horses that surround her now. Their faces are mostly covered by scarves and they’re all wearing cowboy hats. 

“Ma’am I need you to lower the gun.” 

(Y/N) pulls her scarf down a little so as not to muffle her voice. They need to know she means business. They need to know she’s determined and not some little girl who will go down without a fight. That’s what life is now, fighting. Always fighting. The living, the dead, everything at all times.

“I can’t do — “

“(Y/N)?”

It’s strange, she thinks. It’s been so long since she heard his voice and yet it feels like just yesterday that same voice has been teasing her for one thing or another. It’s deeper, worn, and weary, but it’s still the same in all the ways that matter.

“Joel?” 

“It’s okay, she’s family! She’s family.” 

It’s a statement directed towards the other man, (Y/N) realizes. 

Family. It’s been a long time since she’s had that. A proper family. People she can rely on. 

Joel dismounts his horse, snow crunching beneath his boots as he makes his way towards her. Time feels to slow down as he wraps his arms around her, warm and comforting and familiar. It’s been a long time since she’s been touched by a hand meant to bring comfort not inflict pain. 

These days you can not afford to trust strangers. Maybe, though, maybe you can trust this stranger because he is not a stranger at all. He’s Joel — he’s family. 

For the first time in a long time (Y/N) lets go of the weight, of the pain and the hurt and the fear. For the first time in a long time, she allows herself to cry.

And for the first time in a long time — they are happy tears.

Being in Jackson feels strange. It all feels a bit artificial. Like Disneyland. Not bad but not quite real. This can’t be permanent, she thinks. Sooner or later something is gonna happen and she’ll be ripped away and back comes the cold and the fear and the reality of the world they are living in now. A world ruled by the dead.

Joel has wrapped her up in a thick, warm blanket. He’s provided her with food, warm and tasty. Food that was not meant only to keep you alive but also taste good. 

He put a steaming hot mug of tea into her frostbitten hands and he hugged her. For a long time. And Joel was never a hugger to begin with, even before — before everything. Birthdays and funerals were the only two occasions she’d ever gotten a hug from him. 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he says as he pulls away and looks at her. He’s older, looks tired and weary. Marked by life and all the things he no doubt had to do to survive. But he’s still Joel. His eyes still hold that undeniable fondness of an old friend, a family member, a father. 

“Where’s Sarah?” 

She doesn’t mean for it to come out like that. Doesn’t mean to even ask in the first place. But Sarah always had a place in her heart so big she might as well have taken the whole damn thing. She was fierce and so terribly smart, they all joked that she could not have been a Miller, must’ve been switched at birth. Obviously (Y/N) always thought both Miller boys were selling themselves short. They were smart as fuck in all the ways that mattered.

Joel’s eyes grow distant for a moment and he doesn’t even have to say it out loud for (Y/N) to understand. In a world like this, everyone has lost someone but losing a child, that must be a whole nother level of pain.

“I’m sorry, Joel.” There is nothing she can say to make it better, to make it right. There is only grief and sadness and the knowledge that it is shared. “I’m so sorry.” 

He nods and squeezes her once more. She thinks what’s left of her heart might be crushed into tiny little pieces at the agony mirrored in his eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

Time does not heal a wound like this. It’s but a bandaid on a bullet hole. There are only two options, (Y/N) thinks. You either learn to live with the pain, accept that it is now a part of you, that it changes you fundamentally. Or you let it kill you.

A cold gust of air wraps itself around (Y/N) as the doors to the building swing open. The Tipsy Bison, the sign above the door proudly proclaimed. A bar. They even got a fucking bar in here.

“Joel wha— holy shit.” 

Back when they were teenagers, (Y/N) always tried to get Tommy to grow out his hair. Though she loved those messy curls of his, she was so damn curious to see what he would look like with longer hair. Hot, she assumed. And she was fucking right.

He looks so handsome. More rugged and older but that’s to be expected, time has passed. But still so goddamn handsome that it sends a shockwave straight to her heart. 

“I thought you were dead.” 

She doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he is right in front of her, hands cupping her face. 

“I — we drove up to Montana, tried to find the farm but most everything was gone and burned down. People said there was nothing left so I — I thought.” 

“I can’t believe you grew a mustache. You look like your dad.” 

Joel lets out a snort next to her. She always took pride in getting a laugh out of Joel. A snort is even better.

“We haven’t seen each other since the world went to shit and the first thing you do is make fun of my mustache?” 

Oh, how she missed that smile. Tommy truly has one of the best smiles she has ever seen, there is no competition. It’s warm and comforting and a little bit mischievous. And he never fails to make you believe that you are the only one he deems deserving of that rare special smile. It’s entirely yours for a fleeting second.

“Like old times. What else would you want me to say?” 

“I missed you would be a good start.” 

“I missed you, Tommy. More than anything.” 

He engulfs her in his arms. It’s been so long since life gave her softness instead of cruelty. His breath feels warm against her skin as he rests his head upon her shoulder. There is something so familiar about his touch that for a second she feels like that version of her again, young and careless and alive. 

She loves Tommy Miller, it’s an undeniable fact. Love, (Y/N) thinks, is something that never truly goes away. It might warp and twist and change and sometimes it gets buried underneath the grief and the pain and the fear. But nothing can take it away entirely. Even the world ending, literally, doesn’t change the fact that she is in love with Tommy Miller. Every version of her since she was but a teenager has loved him. And every version of her yet to come will love him still. 

“I missed you too.” 

His deep brown eyes shine with something so familiar that for a moment she knows that he loves her too. Always has, always will.

The cold is back, another gust of wind clashes like tiny daggers against her skin. And with the cold comes a beautiful woman, all kind eyes and gentle smile. 

And when the woman steps up next to Tommy, he wraps a loving arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“Maria, this is (Y/N). She’s my best friend.” 

The woman, Maria, regards her with nothing but kindness. A welcoming warmth radiating from her like that of an old friend, a loving neighbor.

“(Y/N), this is Maria, my wife.”

She hopes in that moment that her eyes are kind too. That her smile seems genuine and that neither of them can see her dying inside. Because for the second time in her life, (Y/N) thinks the world might be ending once and for all. 

A squeeze against her hand lets her know that at least one of the Miller brothers does notice it. She hopes that Tommy, at least, is blissfully unaware. He deserves a good thing, a loving wife, a family. Even if it’s not with (Y/N). Even if it breaks her heart.

“(Y/N), Tommy’s talked about you so much. It feels like I know you already. We thought — it’s really something that you found us.” 

“Well, Joel found me. It was truly by chance.” 

“Which makes it even more special. It’s like you were meant to be here with us.” 

She looks at Tommy then, into those big brown eyes that have known every version of herself she’s ever been. 

“Yeah, maybe I was.” 

“You were! You’re family. Come let me show you where you can get a nice hot shower and some fresh clothes. And then one of the boys can give you a tour of the town, how does that sound?” 

This would all be so much easier if Maria was unlikable. If this was a movie Maria would be rude and snobbish and mean, unkind to everyone and so easily dismissed as a roadblock in our main character's path to happiness and eternal love. 

But life is not a movie and Maria is not the villain of this story. She’s wonderful. She’s funny and sweet and affectionate. On their walk towards the showers, she makes (Y/N) feel more welcome in this strange place than she has ever felt welcome anywhere before. She’s smart and there is no doubt in (Y/N)’s mind that if Sarah were here she would adore Maria. No matter how hard she tries to find a flaw in this magical woman, (Y/N) comes up empty. There is no reason to blame her or villainize her simply for falling in love with Tommy. Heaven knows it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Even a hot shower doesn’t get rid of all the cold. Not that certain kind of cold that has settled deep inside her bones, festered and grew. But it is nice either way. God knows how long it’s been since she was able to properly wash her hair. 

Maria left some clothes out for her. Nice and cozy and it’s like another stab to the heart. To know this woman wants the best for her when (Y/N) is still so terribly in love with her husband. It feels wrong, feels icky, and vile. If only love had an off switch life would be so much easier.

“Hey uh — can I come in?” Joel’s gruff voice calls out from behind the door.

“Yeah, sure.” 

Snow is sticking to his hair and shoulders as he steps into the room while (Y/N) laces up the boots Maria provided her with. Back in the day, she loved snow. It very rarely did snow in Austin and even then it was usually very little snowfall that didn’t stay around for long enough to enjoy it. Back then snow was something magical.

Now snow is just another reminder of this god-awful cold. 

“Maria said to give you a tour of the town and then show you your new place but uh — I know it can be a lot so if you want to postpone the tour that’s fine.” 

Joel was so good at this, always has been, at knowing what you needed before you did. 

“That would be nice. I think I just want to sleep.” 

He nods and motions his head towards the front of the house. “I thought so. Grab your jacket and let’s go.” 

Jackson is decked out in Christmas lights and wreaths. Ribbons and ornaments. There’s even a Christmas tree in the middle of town square. 

“Is it Christmas time?” (Y/N) asks as they pass the tree, people greeting her with friendly smiles and the occasional wave.

“Mmmh. Tommy said they have a few people who kept track of the dates.” 

The sight of smiling families gathering around the tree involuntarily brings back memories of Christmases past. Sarah always loved Christmas. If she had been allowed to do so she would’ve put up the tree by November 1st. It was always a big thing in the Miller household, going out and cutting down the tree. Joel and Tommy would set it up in the living room then and (Y/N) and Sarah would put on old Christmas records and dance around the tree while decorating it. 

Memories are a weird thing. They are what keep you going, they are what you are made of but they also manage to bring a deep sadness with them, impossible to shake. They leave you simultaneously grateful to have them and devastated you can never go back to those moments.

“There’s a big get-together happening tomorrow night. It’s some kind of town celebration, I don’t know, but Maria and Tommy thought you might want to come. Said I’d ask you but you might want to get acclimated first.” 

In the universe, there are very few things at the moment that (Y/N) wants to do less than spend the evening celebrating with the man she loves and his new wife. However, this is gonna be her life now and she needs to get used to it. These people took her in, and yeah even though she knows Joel and Tommy that does not mean anything anymore. She’s a stranger to the people of Jackson, to Maria, and they still welcomed her in with open arms. She owes them. She owes Maria. 

"Yeah, I'll come.” 

“You sure?” 

“Sure, why not?”

Joel gives her that look. That signature Joel Miller look that calls you out on your bullshit without him even having to say a single word. God, usually that look was reserved for Tommy and Sarah, mostly Tommy. It does not feel very good being on the receiving end of it.

“What? I need to get involved in the community if I want to stay.” 

“Sure, but it doesn’t have to be right away. “ 

(Y/N) shrugs her shoulders in what she hopes looks like nonchalance. Might as well rip off the bandaid, it’s not holding her bleeding wound closed anyway.

“You know you are allowed to be sad, right?” 

It’s weird hearing Joel say something like this. Joel who never talked about feelings or emotions or anything like that. Who was stoic and silent when it came to things like this. Not unemotional or anything like that, he just wasn’t raised that way. He let you know he cared in other ways. No words needed.

“About what?” 

“About what was taken from you.”

Snow crunches beneath their boots and the laughter of people grows distant. Silence wraps around them for a moment until Joel clears his throat and speaks up again.

“When I arrived here and Tommy told me about the baby I felt so angry. Not really at him. I was angry at the world. That he got to have this when it got ripped away from me. That in all this shitshow he got something good and precious and all I got was — just pain. I didn’t think it was okay to have a baby in these conditions but not because I didn’t want Tommy to have this, I was just scared that he’d have to go through what I had to go through. You get to be angry at life, you just can’t let it consume you.” 

In another time she would’ve commented on how weird it is to hear Joel open up and be vulnerable. This is not that time though. At this moment all she can focus on is that one word “Baby”.

They’re having a baby. 

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” her eyes snap up towards Joel who regards her with concern. “Yeah, I — I’m good. Just tired and this is all so much all at once.” 

“I get it. But you get to sleep now. That’s your new house.” 

The house is a small one-story building that looks like it used to be painted a vibrant shade of blue once but has now faded with time. 

“I live over there,” Joel points out across the street and two houses down. “Tommy and Maria live around the corner, yellow house on the right.” 

“Thank you, Joel, for everything.” 

“Of course. You’re family. You always will be family, you hear me?” 

(Y/N) replies with a half-hearted nod which earns her a nudge against the shoulder. 

“I said do you hear me?  You know you will always be a part of this family, right?” 

“Yes, I do. Thanks, Joel.” 

“Sure. Now go get some sleep. You’re safe here. I promise.” 

Sleep doesn’t come to her though. Her body is tired, her mind is exhausted but sleep avoids her. 

When you’re always on the lookout for danger, never allowed to truly let your guard down, your body gets used to it. For a long time, she couldn’t afford to get a good night of deep sleep. Now that she can, her body has unlearned just how to do it, it seems.

So she makes herself a cup of tea, something they have here for everyone to enjoy in their own home, and sits down on that big comfortable couch in the living room with nothing but the ticking of the clock filling the silence and her thoughts keeping her company.

Tommy is going to be a dad. There’s no doubt in (Y/N)’s mind that he’ll be good at it. He is loving and fun but he can put his foot down when needed and he’s as protective as they come, both Millers are.

And yet — 

Back when they were just teenagers (Y/N) had this stupid little vision of a future, one where Tommy and her realized that they were meant to be. In that vision, they got married on her grandparent's farm. They moved into a house next to Joel and Sarah. They bought a dog — or maybe 3. And one day she’d wake him up with kisses and tell him that she felt off for a while and finally took a test this morning. In that vision, Tommy looked at her with his beautiful Tommy Miller smile and kissed her stupid. And they both cried from happiness about what their future would hold. A little baby equal parts Tommy and (Y/N).

She feels silly basking in that little teenage daydream right now. It’s not ever going to happen. That life is gone and buried. Time to write a eulogy to a life that never was. 

A quick knock pulls her from her thoughts and as she opens the door Tommy’s dark eyes look back at her.

“Hey, sorry did I wake you up?” 

“No. Can’t sleep.” 

Tommy nods as if he understands, she wonders if this place already existed when he arrived here or if he helped build it. So many questions and yet she feels like none of them matter at this moment.

She motions for him to step inside, desperate to close the door again and banish the cold from her house.

“Why’s that? Anything wrong with the house? The bed? We can get you relocated, get you a new bed if — “

“No, Tommy. The house is great, the bed is great. It’s none of that. I think it’s just me. My brain and body have not realized yet that this is a safe place.” 

“Oh, oh yeah. Sorry, It’s been a while since I was out there. I mean permanently. It must’ve been rough.” 

Rough. It was rough but at some point, you grow so tired and cold, it just is. You grow numb and maybe that’s the most dangerous feeling of them all.

“Mmh.”

They sit down on the couch and it feels strange. She hates this feeling. This man has been in her life since she was a teenager. They’ve been through so much together and yet, sitting here after all this time, it feels like they are so unfamiliar. Not strangers but close.

“If I had known you were still out there I would have kept looking for you. I — they said everything further north than — “

“Tommy it’s okay.”

“No! I need you to know that if I had even the smallest flicker of hope that you were still alive I would’ve kept looking. Every night for a long time all I could see when I closed my eyes was you. And I felt like the biggest coward on this planet because I loved you and I stopped looking for you. It’s just after Sarah, I didn’t have any hope left.” 

“You thought I was dead and you had to keep yourself alive. I don’t blame you for anything Tommy.” 

“Well, I do!” There are tears in his eyes threatening to fall. She’s only ever seen him cry one time and that was at his mom’s funeral. “If I would’ve just continued on I could’ve found you. I could’ve — we could’ve…” 

He trails off. (Y/N) wonders if he even knew where he wanted to go with that statement in the first place. 

“I loved you, (Y/N). So much. I just want you to know that. ” 

Loved. Loved. Loved. Past tense. 

Of course past tense you idiot. He doesn’t even know you anymore. It’s been too long. So long. It feels like another lifetime altogether.

“I know that Tommy, you told me every day on the phone.” 

She remembers those phone calls like it was yesterday. Her grandparents called her a loved-up teenager, and maybe it felt like it too. But that was more. That was Tommy. Her Tommy. 

Until the phones stopped working and death came knocking on her door.

“I’m just wondering what if — what if I just kept looking a little longer. I could’ve found you and maybe we’d — “

“Tommy, stop! Those what ifs, they ain't doing either of us any good.”

“Do you not think about it?”

How can he ask that? How can he not know that it's all she's thinking about?

“Of course I do. It’s all I think about. But if I let myself get lost in it then it'll kill me. What if I never went to Montana in the first place? What if I came back to look for you? What if you found me? What if what if what if. The truth of it all is that it didn't happen. You have a family now, Tommy. A wife and a  -  a baby. And it hurts to know that if things had been different maybe that could've been me you married and me you had a baby with. But it's not. And I do find comfort in the fact that you're happy. I just want you to be happy.”

Tommy smells like woodfire and winter as he wraps her up in his arms and buries his face in her hair. “I want you to be happy too.”

“And I will be. I am. I got you back and I got Joel. I got parts of my family back.”

“I will always love you, (Y/N). Even if I love you differently now. “

It's an unshakable truth. Love doesn't go away. It warps and changes but it never vanishes.

“I know that. I missed you, Tommy Miller.”

“Miss you too. Now … do you really hate the mustache? Does it really make me look like my dad?”

She hasn't heard her own laughter in so long. It feels magical. It feels like healing.

“Holy shit”.

“Told you they're going all out.”

The big barn is all decked out in string lights and candles. The round tables set up in circles around the dance floor all hold a beautiful floral centerpiece.

“Well glad to hear even in the apocalypse event management is still a booming business.”

Joel nudges her shoulder and hides his smile behind the rim of his beer bottle as he takes a sip.

“I wish Sarah could see this.” 

“Yeah me too.” Joel agrees, his voice sounding strained. Then adds: “You'd make her dance with you, huh?”

“Oh absolutely. And she'd pretend to hate it but that girl was a dancer at heart no matter how much she tried to deny it.”

The smile she gets out of Joel now is a different one. That one isn't brought on by teasing or a bad joke. That one is all love. Shared love for someone so deeply missed. That smile means a lot more.

Maria and Tommy make their way towards Joel and (Y/N), smiles on their faces.

“You made it! The boys weren't sure if you were up for it yet but I was hoping you'd show yourself.”

Maria's words never sound like there is any hidden meaning or agenda behind them. She's honest and true and just so straight-up nice it's hard to comprehend. 

“I'm not going to lie, it's a bit weird. Not you guys just … the whole situation.  Going from surviving day by day to a party with lights and drinks and music.”

“Is it a good weird?” Maria asks, a look of concern on her face.

“It's a great weird.”

“Good, I'm glad. Now I heard some stories about you back in the day and if I'm not mistaken someone here still owes you a dance.”

Back when they were just kids, Tommy and (Y/N) had planned to attend prom together. Just as friends, nothing more. Silent pining included. Unfortunately, his reckless driving landed Tommy at the hospital just a week before the big day. 2 days later he came limping out of that very hospital, a cast on his foot and crutches under his arms. 

“Sorry about that,” he said as he slid into the passenger seat of (Y/N)’s car. “I guess I owe you a dance, huh?” 

She has almost forgotten about that memory, it feels so distant. Like it happened to someone else and all she got to be is a voyeur in that person’s love story. The fact that Tommy remembers though, means so much to her. And not only does he remember, but he deems the memory so important he even told his wife about it.

“I guess so.” 

“I made sure he didn’t go slipping on any ice or falling off a horse before tonight. Won’t let him get out of the dance a second time.” 

Maria’s words make (Y/N) laugh. It feels so good to laugh. Maybe this can be a good thing. Tommy and Maria and Joel and the whole Jackson settlement. Maybe it doesn’t have to be all heartbreak.

“ Oh, come on. Is this how it’s gonna be now? You two are gonna team up against me?” 

“Three of us, actually.” Joel jumps in making Tommy scoff though a small smirk is pulling the corner of his lip upwards. 

“Whatever.” he holds out his hand towards (Y/N) and in his dark eyes the fairy lights are reflected like tiny stars in an inky night sky. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

There’s a man with a guitar sitting on the little stage at the other end of the room, and as Tommy and (Y/N) reach the middle of the dancefloor, his fingers begin to strum the very familiar cords of a song she hasn’t thought about it years. 

“Did you know he would play this?” 

Tommy doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. He even looks a little proud of himself. It breaks and mends her heart all at once. “Might’ve put in a request with him.” 

“They say that these are not the best of times But they're the only times I've ever known”

It’s a hit straight to the chest, hearing this song again. The last time she heard it was that fateful fourth of July. When life was easy and the earth was kind. 

These are not the best of times, Billy Joel is right about that, but as Tommy slowly sways them both to the melody, she thinks that maybe this isn’t all bad. She is here, she’s found him again and the love is still there. Even if it is different now. She has him back. Has Joel back too. And maybe as time goes by she can grow to see Maria as an extension of her little family. A friend even. She sure is lovable, that’s for sure. 

“In another life, we would’ve danced to this song at our wedding.” Tommy’s voice softly murmurs into her ear. “I would’ve loved to be your husband.” 

And while she wants to pull him closer and tell him that he still can, that she is here now and the future they imagined can still happen, the rational part of her knows that those dreams are officially dead and buried. With their loved ones and their old selves.

“And I would’ve loved to be your wife.” 

“I’m sorry we — “

“Tommy, it’s okay. I’m glad for that little time we got. And look, we found each other again. I got you back and I got Joel and maybe a whole new family too,” (Y/N) says, and lets her eyes wander around the room for a moment. “It’s not what I envisioned sure, but It’s more than a lot of people have. I think all things considered I am very lucky.” 

“It's either sadness or euphoria.” 

Maybe Billy Joel wasn’t completely right when he wrote that song, she thinks.

Within all the heartbreak of coming to terms with the fact that she will never have the future she wanted, there is hope and joy in knowing that she found a place where a future is possible. Not the one she thought she’d get but a good one either way.

Maybe Billy Joel was wrong.

Maybe there can be sadness and euphoria all at once. 

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Jess McAllen

The manicured lawn outside Nassau County’s legislative building in Mineola, NY, is a picture of suburban peace. But back in August, the chambers inside reflected a more contentious reality. On either side of the aisle, two camps arranged themselves: the masked and the unmasked. They were there to plead their case during an hours-long public hearing for the Mask Transparency Act, which would make wearing a facial covering to “hide one’s identity” a misdemeanor, punishable by up to a year in prison and a $1,000 fine.

The first member of the public to address the lawmakers was seventy-seven-year-old Wayne Hall, a former Long Island mayor and kidney transplant recipient. His main concern, echoed by many in the room, was that the bill would morph into another iteration of New York’s notorious stop-and-frisk policy, which violated the rights of hundreds of thousands of residents. “Black and brown individuals already face disproportionate scrutiny from law enforcement,” said Hall, “and will be more likely to be stopped and questioned, simply for wearing a mask.” Proponents of the measure, meanwhile, argued that allowing masks has enabled crime. Republican congressman Anthony D’Esposito, who attended Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally earlier this month, implored the council not to vote “in favor of hate-filled thugs.”

The bill, introduced by Republican representative and former IDF paratrooper Mazi Pilip, ultimately went on to pass the county legislature and went into effect immediately — with all twelve Republicans voting in favor and seven Democrats abstaining. Pilip celebrated the win in an Instagram post by decrying mask advocates as “the thug protestors whose aim was to intimidate, harass, promote violence and spread hate.”

The tense hearing was a snapshot of a debate playing out across the United States, as local politicians attempt to crack down on a fabricated crime wave by banning facial coverings. While lawmakers are promoting concessions for health and religious exemptions, the language of the bills themselves consistently shies away from the reason why masks have become so popular in the first place: Covid-19. The virus continues to mutate, and people are still dying; some seventeen million adults suffer from Long Covid. Meanwhile, traditional respiratory illnesses like flu and RSV continue to circulate. So it’s no wonder that many—especially people who are immunocompromised or living with chronic illness—want to be able to wear a mask in public.

In June, North Carolina passed a similar ban, and several other localities are looking to follow suit, with either proposed laws or talk of potential laws in Chicago, Los Angeles, and New Jersey. In the New York state legislature, two competing bills are already on the table. One, introduced by Republican state senator Steven Rhoads in May is seen as unlikely to pass. The other bill, which establishes the offense of “concealment of identity in a lawful assembly, unlawful assembly or riot,” was introduced by Democratic state senator James Skoufis on June 14. Two weeks later, a campaign called #UnMaskHateNY was officially launched outside Columbia University, the site of pro-Palestine student protests just months earlier, in support of a statewide mask ban.

Two Democratic lawmakers attended the launch: Jeffrey Dinowitz, who introduced a twin version of Skoufis’s bill in the assembly, and Brian Cunningham, who in September coauthored an op-ed for the New York Daily News titled “Unmask the cowards on our campuses,” which is featured on the #UnMaskHateNY website. (Cunningham, however, claims he is not affiliated with the group.) The lawmaker is advocating for specific carve outs in the bill, saying he will only support it if there are health and religious exemptions. “I grew up in Flatbush, Brooklyn,” he told me recently, “I grew up in the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s in New York City. People wearing ski masks, prior to Covid-19, weren’t greeted with hugs and welcomes from the neighborhood grandma, or anyone else.” When I asked if he would, instead support a simple ski mask ban, he reminded me that it wasn’t his bill. What about his thoughts on police using the law to racially profile constituents? “Am I saying that the bill is bad that’s in? No. Am I saying the bill is good? No. I’m saying that there is a conversation that this bill is provoking.”

For a campaign purportedly against anonymity, it has proven exceptionally difficult to determine who is behind #UnMaskHateNY. The campaign website simply states that it is “led by civil rights leaders, faith leaders and other diverse advocates.” So I reached out to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), which has publicly supported the campaign and sent representatives to the launch. “We are a member of the coalition that is leading this effort,” a spokesperson replied, “but not the lead. We will have someone leading our effort follow with you directly.” (No one ever followed up.) I emailed the #UnMaskHateNY email, DM’d them on Instagram and Facebook, and even emailed Mercury Public Affairs, which under Facebook’s relatively recent transparency rules is listed as overseeing the campaign’s Facebook page. No one replied. Running out of options, I got in touch with Cunningham’s office to double check who had been in touch with him from the campaign. I was given the email of a man at the ADL, who also never replied.

Regardless of whether they are leading the campaign or not, the ADL isn’t holding back. “Anti-masking laws passed in New York were used to help counter the reign of terror of the Ku Klux Klan,” reads a statement on their website. “Now, it’s time to bring them back to counter masked intimidation.” This language is similar to a proposal by the right-wing Manhattan Institute, titled “Model Legislation to Modernize Anti-KKK Masking Laws for Intimidating Protesters” released in early June, which declares that “just as Ku Klux Klan members used white hoods to conceal their identities and terrorize their targets, modern activists are using keffiyehs, Guy Fawkes masks, balaclavas.” In an #UnMaskHateNY advertisement that has run on both Facebook and Instagram since late September, video of torch-carrying KKK members is cut with pro-Palestine protests: “Today’s hoods are masks,” a solemn narrator intones, “but the hate is the same.” The implication is clear: if you are wearing a mask, you are basically the KKK.

Those in favor of mask bans love connecting their crusade to the role an 1845 New York law—“An Act to prevent persons appearing disguised and armed”—played in stopping the KKK from openly terrorizing New York, but the original reason the law was created had nothing to do with the KKK, which was founded twenty years later in Tennessee. It was, instead, a direct response to a yearslong “anti-rent war” that started in 1839. The movement began when a group of farmers, tired of extortionate leases, went on the nineteenth-century version of a rent strike. They wore “Indian” disguises while disrupting house sales, resisted evictions, and tarred and feathered police officers. In January 1845, the anti-mask law was passed. This didn’t stop things from escalating: only seven months later, undersheriff Osman Steele was shot and killed by masked protesters when he was trying to help sell a property.

“There is no doubt that people can be more apt to act irresponsibly when their conduct cannot be traced back to them,” is one tidbit of wisdom in the paratext of Skoufis’s bill. Just like the Nassau County ban, the language of Skoufis’s legislation appears to grant police—famous for their unbiased and calm judgment—sole discretion to arrest anyone who simply looks shifty, just because they are wearing a mask in a large crowd. It’s unclear how this might play out. In Nassau County, there have been a few reported arrests since the ban went into effect. Among them: an eighteen-year-old who police say was “displaying suspicious behavior” and wearing a ski mask (upon searching him, police found a knife); a twenty-seven-year-old man who attempted to break into a house while wearing a ski mask; and one man who was part of a protest at the Young Israel of Lawrence-Cedarhurst synagogue in Queens and was arrested while wearing a keffiyeh. “Police on the scene asked him if he was wearing the garment for medical or religious purposes, which are the two major exceptions to the new ban,” according to the Nassau County Police Department. When the man said he was wearing it in solidarity with Palestinians, he was placed under arrest. (A federal class action lawsuit was filed against the Nassau County law in August by Disability Rights of New York on behalf of individuals with disabilities but it was dismissed in September.)

For Ngozi, a Nassau County resident who attended the public hearing in August and has an autoimmune disease called scleroderma, the threat of arrest isn’t new. “The reality is that I’m a black, disabled person, wearing a mask in public. I’ve always been marked,” they told me. “I feel like this is maybe the first time that white people are fearful of being criminalized for something.” One of the problems with mask bans—even with concessions—is that it puts an awful lot of trust in those enforcing the bans not to abuse their power. “People are like, ‘Oh well, there is a health exemption, make sure you have your doctor’s note,’ and it’s like, no, we should not be providing the state with ‘proof’ that we are disabled.” On top of this, health issues are not always obvious. “I have disabilities that are not visibly apparent,” Ngozi, who asked to only go by their first name, added. “Do I have to be in a wheelchair for you to believe me? Do I have to have crutches? Do I have to have an oxygen tank? . . . I’m very concerned about the impact of what a legalized stop and frisk looks like for disabled people.”

Sue, a senior who lives with rheumatoid arthritis, says her other chronically ill friends want to know why masks must be the visible disability delineator. “An immunocompromised friend who uses a wheelchair pointed out to me: ‘Mask bans, for me, are like banning my wheelchair. Masks have been part of me, my health care, and my life, for decades.’” Sue’s rheumatoid arthritis attacks her joints, as well as her lungs and other organs. She takes two different immunosuppressant medications, which alter her immune function and increase her risk for viral, bacterial, and fungal infections, so she often wears a mask while in public. “Even a seemingly minor threat, like the common cold, can lead to a serious illness in someone with a compromised immune system,” she said. “These medicines also suppress my immune response to vaccines.” For Sue, who also asked to only go by her first name, a mask ban would only compound the wider discrimination she faces in a society she feels has already left her behind.

As it stands, Skoufis’s bill, which lawmakers are hoping to advance as soon the legislative session begins in January, affects the right of people like Sue to go to protests or large public gatherings when we are not in a declared public health emergency. The proposed law dictates that it will be illegal for people to wear a face covering at a lawful or unlawful assembly or what the police consider to be a riot “unless they are wearing personal protective equipment during a declared public health emergency.” Since this is no longer the case, anyone who wears a mask for health reasons at a protest or large public gathering could be breaking the law. The health exemption language of the Nassau County law, which applies to facial coverings worn anywhere in public, meanwhile, is vague: “This law shall not apply to facial coverings worn to protect the health or safety of the wearer.” This has its own problems, namely that it will be on individual police officers to interpret both the law and the reason why someone is wearing a mask. Back at the public hearing in August, D’Esposito said the law would be “enforced by one of the finest police departments in the country,” but residents were not so sure. “Ultimately this law will be carried out based on one person’s judgment,” noted one resident. “More simply, is this masked person doing something I like or do not like?”

Many activists see the bans as retaliation for pro-Palestine protests that have swept the country in the year since Israel invaded Gaza in the wake of October 7. At protests people often wear masks either to support the health of their community, or to protect their identity from getting doxxed. The health exemptions prompted by lawmakers treat the issue as two dimensional: You are either a protester, or someone with ongoing health issues. Why can’t you be both? It shouldn’t be surprising that a person concerned with preventing the transmission of a potentially debilitating disease might also be concerned about the genocide in Palestine. In their proposal, The Manhattan Institute had already thought of this: “Someone who wears a mask for health reasons probably should not be congregating in large groups of people.” Aside from ignoring the otherwise healthy people who mask to avoid exacerbating underlying conditions or contracting Long Covid, the document makes it clear that anyone who has a chronic illness or disability is expected to stay out of public life.

Among the groups of people who are pushing back against proposed mask bans is Fight for the Future, who have launched a Stop Mask Bans campaign. One of the organizers, Alex, who preferred to go by her first name, said mask bans spotlight cross-movement solidarity. “They carry out the combined violence of public health abandonment, surveillance, censorship, and policing. If we truly want to beat them, we have to address their full intent and impact,” she said. “Otherwise, we’ll be fighting an uphill battle against so-called ‘exemptions’ to these bills that claim to address the needs of just disabled people, religious people, or those concerned about facial recognition.” She added, “Our call is for no mask bans, with no exceptions, because all anti-mask bills violate our fundamental rights to health and privacy.”

Decades ago, radical health activism looked like the Black Panthers screening for sickle cell anemia, or the Young Lords seizing a mobile chest X-ray unit and taking it to an underserved population in East Harlem. Those days are long gone, says Ngozi. “When it comes to public health, yeah, the greatest amount of solidarity was shown with protests against police brutality and specifically responding to George Floyd’s murder, but we haven’t seen that again. We haven’t seen it replicated. You have to consider that people were being supported with stipends from the government, people were on unemployment.”

Beyond the likelihood of discriminatory arrests, mask bans will have wider consequences. According to opponents, the passing of such laws will enable harassment from the public and encourage shop owners to turn away particular customers. “It’s easier for people to pathologize and stigmatize things like, ‘Oh, you’re a weirdo, oh, you must have OCD, you must have anxiety, you must have something wrong with you mentally,’” Ngozi said. Sue recalls former CDC director Rochelle Walensky’s 2022 comments on Good Morning America, in which she referenced a study of 1.2 million fully vaccinated people that found the majority of those who died of Covid had at least four comorbidities. “So really,” Walensky said, “these are people who were unwell to begin with.” People like Sue heard that message “loud and clear.” “The CDC is encouraged that only the vulnerable are dying from Covid now. Maybe that’s why people don’t care — they have received this message from the top down.”

The reality is that cops are unlikely to target a white person in a KN95, and even if a mask ban has a carve out for medical face masks, there will inevitably be unintended consequences that will hurt people. “Under a mask ban,” says Alex, “protesters are essentially given a choice: unmask and face Covid and Long Covid, tear gas, and the life-destroying consequences of public doxxing, or remain masked and face even more police brutality and surveillance.” These bans may be pitched as a solution to crime and discrimination, but they harm everyone by eroding the right to privacy and health.