#Two Seater Dining Table

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Have You No Idea that You’re in Deep?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Dom/Sub dynamic; Oral sex (m receiving); Implied cock warming

A/N: @retroellie, @ankhmutes I hope this suffices!😩

*gif is not mine

How Daryl was carrying on a conversation above you was just flabbergasting. He had all but dragged you into the dining room, leaving you standing behind him while he walked around the four-seater table and scrutinized the long cloth that hung a few inches above the floor. 

With a nod, he lifted one side and gestured underneath. “G’on.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to determine what the purpose of such a command boiled down to, and if you were being honest, it caused a rush of heat between your thighs that had you rubbing them together. Once you had followed orders, Daryl bent down to smirk at you. “Be a good girl an’ maybe I’ll reward ya after.”

It had been at least half an hour. Your mouth was stuffed full of the archer’s cock, your hand stroking what you couldn’t accommodate. Damn him if he didn’t use his solid grip of your hair to try and force it anyway. Each bump against the back of your throat coaxed more tears from the corners of your eyes. It was so hard to remain quiet, not to gag or moan or whine. Besides the occasional thrust of his hips when he was pretending to adjust himself on the chair, Daryl was strategically remaining still and quiet. 

“Haven’t really searched that area ‘fore. Might be worth it.” He spoke coolly, working you up and down his shaft by your hair. The way he lounged in the chair was obviously keeping the movement of his arm hidden from the former deputy. Perhaps, he just considered it as one of Daryl’s nervous habits. 

Rick’s boots were mere inches from your feet. One wrong movement from him or you and the jig would be up. If you were caught, there would be no way the cock sliding past your lips would be filling your pussy later. 

With slow and silent movements, you brought your hand up to cup his balls, massaging gently after you felt the muscles in his thighs tighten. You were careful not to make a sound when you pulled off of him, pushing back against the hand in your hair. His grip twisted and pulled to make your scalp sing with pain, but loosened again when you drug your tongue up the underside of his cock, using the muscle to massage the thick vein there before dipping the tip into his slit. 

You eased him into your mouth just as Rick brought up fuel for the cars they would be taking. The archer twitched inside your mouth, a sure indicator that he was close to orgasm. You were happy and disappointed in equal amounts. Your jaw hurt, but you lived to pleasure your man, working hard for the rewards he would give you after a job well done. Your cunt clenched at just the thought of being mercilessly pounded and filled. 

“Who we takin’?” Daryl asked, clearing his throat just as he used your hair to bring you to a halt, cock at the back of your throat. You focused on relaxing, crying around his length and breathing through your nose as silently as you could. He was using your mouth to edge himself. 

Dear god. 

Two fingers were stuffed into your pussy before you could stop yourself. You were embarrassingly wet, too wet to pump your digits against your slick walls without making too much noise. Fuck. Reluctantly, you withdrew and smeared your slick over Daryl’s balls just to feel him tense once more. He knew what you had tried, the harsh grip and tug on the strands wrapped around his fingers very telling. 

When he twitched once again against your tongue and tried to stop you, you refused to relent, knowing your insubordination would drive him wild, that the punishment would at least include your aching pussy being stuffed full of that wonderful cock, stretched and filled. 

Using your teeth, you scraped them up his length ever so gently, delighted when he shivered but when you drew him back in and hollowed your cheeks, tightening your lips with a squeeze to his balls, he was done for. He spurted down your throat, shoving you down until your nose met his pelvis. He held you there as he came, trembling with the effort of remaining still and silent, nodding at what his friend was saying. 

You obediently drank every drop, licking and sucking him clean before continuing to stroke him, attempting to coax him back to full hardness before he released your hair and snatched your wrist. 

Oh, you were going to pay for that one. 

He held on until the conversation ended, allowing Rick to see himself out. Once the door closed, he slid his chair away from the table and dragged you right along. 

“Ya just had to be a brat, didn’tcha?” Your cunt was throbbing while you watched him stroke himself before yanking you onto his lap, barely taking the time to slide your panties aside before splitting you open on his cock. 

You threw back your head with the filthiest groan, wasting no time before you began bouncing on his lap. His hands gripped your hips roughly, sure to leave bruises, and held you still. “Daryl, wha—”

“Ya gonna sit there until ya learn to do as you’re told. Don’tcha fuckin’ move.” He arched a brow, daring you to backtalk as he leaned back, his hold strong and unyielding. 

“Daryl,” you whined and gripped fistfuls of his vest. “I need you. Please, please fuck me. I need to cum so bad.”

“Ya will.” He smirked, tilting his head almost thoughtfully. “Eventually.”

[primofate]

A Shot in The Dark (Chapter 1) Wriothesley x fem!reader

Summary: As the upcoming Weapons Master of the town, you've started to take more responsibilities in your father's shop. Little did you know that taking up this job would cause you to get thrown into the messy world of criminals and the messy world of confusing feelings for the Duke of Meropide.

Warnings: Slow burn, this is gunna be long. Like Ruthless Prince long, maybe. Nothing much happens. This is the first chapter after all. Excuse any mistakes, I am a busy mother.

Author's Notes: Tell me what you think?

Read other parts: Coming Soon

In the shop, a quiet tick-tock rang around as you stood behind the counter, drumming your fingers against the table, watching as the short hand of the wooden clock slowly inches towards the number 7.

You take a deep breath through your nose, squaring your shoulders up, holding the air in your chest for a second before puffing everything out in one go.

It was your first time alone in the shop, and while your father didn’t have a lot of customers these days, you heard that he was quite the sought-after weapons master back in the old times.

A small chime takes you out of your reverie. That was your cue that the day had to start, going around the counter with a slight hum, opening the door to the outside and flipping the store sign “Open”.

You took a moment to look around the small street of Vasari Passage. From where you stood at the shop’s entrance, you had a good view of the swirling fountain in the middle of the Court of Fontaine. There are a few other shops lining the street: the snack shop, the fruit stand, up a set of stairs was the House of Hearth and further down the street was Café Lutece.

It was a nice location, close to the entrance to the city and walking distance to food if you were too busy or too lazy to cook for yourself that day. The shop was on the ground floor, but your father and you resided above the shop, one floor up.

The apartment was rather modest. A two bedroom with wooden floors that now sort of groaned when you stepped on certain places. A dining room that also served as a living room, a 4-seater table in the middle with a fireplace off to the side. A kitchen, where your mother used to spend all her time, cooking up something wonderful for the family. And lastly, one bathroom that was strangely quite spacious with a bath and built in shower.

You pull the shop door open once again, a small ring from the tiny bell hanging above reverberating in your ears. You had only taken a few steps forward, barely even reaching the counter when the tiny bell rang again, followed by the closing sound of the door.

“Welcome to Hammer and Hand, how can I—” you twist around just as you reach the counter and there stood a very, very familiar face. “Oh, Ms. Clorinde,”

No, you had never spoken to her before. Nor were you in any way acquainted. But she was someone that everyone knew and as soon as her name left your lips you felt nervousness crash into you, as if a wave of Primordial Sea water was trying to pull you under its depths.

Clorinde regarded the shop briefly. Looking up at the shelves on the left and right. Surveying the carpet on the floor. Eyes glancing at the several chairs littered around for waiting customers. Then, she looked at you. “…I heard that there might be someone who could take a look at my pistol,” she wasn’t asking a question and she sounded as if she might be in a hurry.

“That would be me,” you sighed out with a forced smile, hands fumbling under the counter to take out a sleek, velvet-lined, black box for the Champion Duelist to rest her weapon in.

A quick click-clack of her heels, Clorinde placing the pistolet into the box and you, hovering your hands above it. “May I?”

Clorinde made a quick sound of approval, and your hands gently took the weapon, now examining it for what might be wrong.

Clorinde peered at you through her hat, just a quick look.

Truth be told, she wasn’t the kind to judge others by appearance…but you looked very, very young to be a weapons master. After a moment of silence, just the little clinks and ticks of your hands tapping on the pistol, Clorinde decided to speak up. “…I was told the shop owner was a man,” She kept her eyes on you to gauge for a reaction, perhaps wary that she might have offended you.

On the contrary, you were unphased, and didn’t take your eyes off her pistol. “My father,” you curtly answered, eyes narrowing at the frame of the gun. “He’s off on vacation at the moment…He hasn’t been on one in a while so I’m stepping in for him for a bit,”

Clorinde made a sound of understanding. That made more sense. “…Everyone needs a vacation,” she said in a different tone to what she used earlier, almost as if she was striking up a casual conversation.

This caught your attention the slightest bit, eyes involuntarily dragging up, meeting hers, then awkwardly breaking the gaze in a split second, going back to the weapon.

“There seems to be a problem with the firing pin, Ms. Clorinde,” you lay the pistol back on the velvet box, then take out a number of small trinkets and tools that would help you open the weapon.

You didn’t talk as you worked, Clorinde was mostly impressed by how much you knew of a weapon you just met, and how your hands were almost as steady as hers when she took aim.

“…You use this often?” She hears you ask and she takes a moment to reply.

“…You could say that,” again, she replies in a short manner.

You let out a little hum in thought. In the next 5 minutes you spend some time taking out different types of firing pins. You explain what each one does. One valued speed. One was a chunkier, sturdier type. One was absorbent of elemental energy, so on so forth. Clorinde explained what she usually used the pistol for, and what attribute she valued over others.

With that, the firing pin was easily replaced and the pistol felt as good as new in her hands.

“My sincere thanks,” Clorinde nods her head, and for the first time that morning sent a small yet satisfied smile your way.

“My pleasure, Ms. Clorinde, do come back if there’s anything else wrong with it, or if it doesn’t feel right in your hands,” you keep your back straight and tense until the Champion Duelist walks out and the door creaks closed. You puff out another sigh of relief, shoulders slumping and yourself crumpling on the counter.

“Of course my first customer has to be a celebrity!” You freak out on your own, cheek pressed against the table and trying to replay the whole interaction in your mind. If you had said anything weird or awkward, if you had stumbled over your words at all—a little CLINK had you scrambling straight up and smiling at the door yet again. “Welcome to—”

“I just came back to warn you,” Clorinde was only halfway into your shop. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should have said anything at all. “You might get a few more…odd customers in the next few days,”

She didn’t explain herself, and you were thoroughly confused. What exactly was her definition of “odd”? The Duelist had already left before you could say anything, not that you could think of anything to say anyway.

The rest of the day had actually been quite slow, despite Clorinde’s warning. A few gardes came by, an aspiring duelist, a collector…Nothing as surprising as your very first customer of the day.

From 7 in the morning it had turned into 7 in the evening. The short hand of the clock started yet again inching closer to the number 7…it was then, yet again, that the door rattled open and in came a rather grand looking young man, different from all the other customers of the day.

Wriothesley had a greeting at the tip of his tongue. “Hey old man,” or something of the sort. Except, he didn’t see an old man at the counter. “Uhh…” he started, looking around the place as if he was lost.

Something about this man seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

“If you’re looking for my father, he’s on vacation at the moment,” You help him out, knowing that he probably wasn’t expecting to see you manning the shop. Your eyes dropped to the gauntlets tucked under his arm. “Were you wanting to get those looked at?” Head jerking forward to signal towards his gauntlets.

Wriothesley stood like a deer in headlights in the middle of your shop, now looking more surprised than ever. His eyes narrowed and his hand came up halfway to point at you shyly “You’re Y/N?”

You were taken aback, eyes evidently widening. “…Yes…? Do I…know you?” It was your turn to squint your eyes at him. His black hair was a little unruly, his build was of a seasoned fighter’s. The coat draped on his back gave him a sense of importance, and the way he carried himself screamed of confidence.

No. No lightbulbs came up to give you a clue.

You could only smile sheepishly when he didn’t offer an answer and you had to speak up in the silence. “I’m sorry, I don’t really recall where we met,”

It was only then did he chuckle and finally stepped forward to meet you at the counter, placing his gauntlets atop it. “I don’t blame you. Anyway,” he brushed away the subject quickly and proceeded to tell you that his gauntlets had been feeling a little “clunky”.

You, in all your consciousness, felt horrible that you didn’t recognize someone who seemingly knew who you were. The man, however, seemed like he didn’t want to breach the subject anymore.

“Hmm…?” You bring your hand up to your chin as he finishes complaining about his gauntlets. You scour over them with your eyes and notice a few marks on the glossy finish of it. “This looks like…it’s been damaged,” you rub a finger over the area you’re talking about. “…by…a pistol…” An image of Clorinde passes through your head. "...Are you…a criminal?” You look up to your current customer, a mix of worry and intrigue etched on your face.

Wriothesley blinks, and suddenly bursts into short laughter. “Me? Not recently no,” he answers with a chuckle on his lips.

Then why would Ms. Clorinde shoot at you? Was your first thought. He cuts through your thinking quite fast.

“You can tell this is a pistol mark?” Wriothesley didn’t hide that he was impressed.

“Specifically Ms. Clorinde’s…” You take your hand away from his gauntlet, now wary of your visitor. “Why would she shoot at you?”

“You can even tell it’s Clorinde’s?” He barked out another set of laughter, running his hand through his hair in the process.

“Well…She came by this morning and I had a good look at her pistol, so…” You didn’t elaborate that Clorinde’s pistol was a special kind, it was easy to tell that the marks left on his gauntlets was definitely from her pistol.

“Oh did she?” He seemed to be a very chipper guy. Everything you said, he was somewhat amused by it. It was then that he dismissively waved a hand. “It’s alright, we were just…sparring. I’m the one who told her to come ‘round to your old man’s shop. We went at it too hard and…well, more customers for you,”

“Uh huh…” you start, still unsure. “Well, in any case, I’d like to have your name, please? It’s just good manners to know your customer’s name,” You smile a bit, and quickly add under a whisper “or in this case, my potential killer's,”

Wriothesley hears you, another chuckle emanating from his chest. “It’s Wriothesley,”

Something clicks in your mind. A very, very far off memory.

“…Oh!” One of your hand involuntarily shoots up to your mouth, at the same time your eyes widen, you stare at him “Wriothesley!?” You look him over, up and down, then back to his face. “You…You grew up a lot!”

“So did you!” He has a sincere smile on his face, arms crossing and looking rather proud.

“Oh, oh my Archons,” your hands fumble to find each other and you gather yourself once again, straightening up “I didn’t realize it was you, I’m so sorry. Oh and you’re the Duke now, right? I’m SO sorry, I didn’t mean to call you a criminal—or a killer!” Your words start to skim over each other in your embarrassment and desperation to explain yourself.

Wriothesley gives somewhat of an awkward and guarded smile, if only you knew, “It’s not a problem, just…call me Wriothesley,”

“Right... Right! Erm…” You focus your attention back to his gauntlets. “So these are, uh…just needs a bit of polishing and erm…” You’re still trying to gather your racing thoughts. There were bits and pieces of memories coming back to you that were connected to him. Most of them were from your father, and you quickly recalled that you’d met the Duke as a teenager, just a few odd times, really not a lot. “I have a suspicion as to why you think it’s getting clunky…”

You reach under the table again to look for a tape measure, “Do you mind if I measure your hands?” somehow getting most of your brain and thinking back, you ask him to extend one of his arms out and he complies rather easily.

As usual, you quietly work. Taking various measurements of his wrist, fingers, arm length and the sort.

“…You’ve gotten really good at this,” he remarks, just to fill in the silence. You maintain your concentration and mumble back absentmindedly.

“Mmhmm…Well, I did study this in school…and my father has taught me a lot,”

Wriothesley had wanted to comment that yours was still an extraordinary skill. He didn’t think that you’d be so good at assessing weapons and finding solutions for it, he dare thought that you were getting even better than your old man, but he kept quiet, seeing your concentration.

“As I thought,” you breathe out, rolling the tape measure back into a circle. “Your gauntlets are a tad bit small on you now…you’ve probably gained a bit of muscle, or something,”

“Oh,” was all he could let out, not expecting the answer to be so simple.

“I can resize it…but…” you glance at the clock. 7:32 pm. Way past closing time. “…You can leave it with me and pick it up tomorrow or…come back with it tomorrow? I imagine you might not want to part with it, even just for a night,” You don’t know what the duties of a Duke are, but if he was in charge of Meropide… you guessed that the one thing he really needed with him was his weapon. “I mean, it still fits you, it’s just… not in optimal shape.”

“I understand,” he moves to take the gauntlets back with him, but gives you an appreciative nod. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning then,”

“Okay,” you whisper, holding his gaze, the edges of your mouth turning up the slightest bit. “See you tomorrow then,”

Wriothesley keeps your gaze for only a few moments longer before he gathered his weapon and tucked it under his arm again. He then returns your smile, briefly. He steps away to turn, his coat swaying with him. “See ya,” he throws a hand back as a goodbye and as he exits the store, it is suddenly quiet.

You stand there for a moment to replay the interaction. The quiet helps you organize your thoughts. You can’t help but think that he had grown up to be a good man, and there was no denying that he was good looking—anyone with eyes could see that—you hum a bit, and keep the thoughts to yourself.

You close the shop up, feeling rather good of how the unexpected events of the day unfolded, and went to sleep easily.

Chapter 1: End

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[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone. 

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete. 

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.  

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness. 

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now. 

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

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stranded on the same ground — j. suh

NOTE. hey sorry for ghosting (again...) PAIRING. johnny suh x fem reader GENRE. hurt/comfort, angst SYNOPSIS. the entire process of getting over your ex, johnny suh (and meeting each other again) WARNINGS. profanity, mention of alcohol W/C. 4.8k

(⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ masterlist.

The morning of your breakup with your first-ever boyfriend isn’t as awful as you expected. Life went on like it usually does. Blinded by anger, you wished for your ex to have the most terrible, annoying, and awful day ahead and all the other days that followed. Call it childish, if you may. Call it a little bit immature when I say the two of you didn’t really end on bad terms. Your only worry after you parted ways was, ‘How could he fumble so badly? ’. You didn’t cry the morning after your breakup with Johnny Suh, but you did on a random Tuesday night when you saw the sticker he put on your tumbler. You cried again the following week when you found yourself walking on the same route you would always take with him on the way to the terminal when both of you had enough time before heading to work. 

It truly is the little details that bring you to tears. Not the broken promises and the plans you made together that you will never fulfill because you are used to those things, unfortunately, because you weren’t really that loved when you were younger, which is sad, and now that the only person that showed you affection is gone for the sole reason that ‘the two of you need more space to grow and move forward’. 

It’s all bullshit. And you hope he thinks the same. 

You hope he feels the same. You hope that every day he wakes up, he reaches his arm to the other side of the bed and realizes that you no longer lay beside him. You hope that every time he prepares the table, he gets two spoons and then realizes that he has to eat alone and not have anyone to talk about absurd things during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, which leaves him no choice but to watch stuff on his phone. On top of that, you wish that his WI-FI doesn’t work, so he will be bored to death.

You sat at the lonely six-seater dining table so early in the morning. It’s been three months since you broke up with Johnny, and really, you don’t feel anything right now other than the desire to make this day as productive as possible, and you seem to be on a really great start. 

You woke up at 5 a.m. in the morning to go on a morning jog, and when you reached your desired time, you decided to stop by the bakery to grab yourself some pandesal. When you got home, it was almost 7, and you decided to use your espresso machine that has been sitting in your kitchen, praying to be used. The fact that today was your first time using it was very evident because you had to get a chair to get it from the highest counter, and the box that it came in is now covered with dust. And then it hit you.

That coffee maker was a gift from Johnny. No, you’re not going to cry. You wouldn’t let that little piece of equipment ruin your day. Even if it was an anniversary gift. Even if you know damn well, he saved up most of his salary to buy you that. And now you’re on the verge of tears as you remember the fact that you didn’t even get to thank him properly because that was also the day you broke up with him.

And now! Another! Day! Ruined! Thanks, Johnny Suh.

In the end, you decided to drink instant coffee.

You heaved a sigh, trying to contain yourself. No! You wouldn’t let that happen. He should be the one crying over this espresso machine because it’s so expensive. Hell, he knows you don’t even drink coffee. He bought this for himself and gave it to you, and now he can’t even take it back because you are no longer together. Ha! Take that, Johnny Suh.

But then again, Johnny Suh is rich as hell so he won’t be crying over a gift for his ex.

Moving on (something you obviously can’t do), your work as an architectural designer starts at 9 a.m., and for some weird reason, you wanted to look your best when going to work. After all, you are going to meet tons of clients (and you are running for senior architect, so obviously you gotta do a bit of sucking up to your superiors because you! need! the! money!).

So with your desire to get promoted and get more money, you decided to go to work an hour early.

God forbid nothing cliche happens when you are at work, like meeting your ex and having him as your client, because if your memory doesn’t fail you, my goodness, Johnny Suh talked about wanting to have his own house by the end of this year!

“Architect, meet Sir Johnny Suh.” You are fucked. Seeing him again was one of the scenarios you made on your way to work today, and you blame your mind for being imaginative to the point of manifesting him right in front of you. 

“I’ll be assigning you this project because this is a great opportunity for you to grow and improve.” Sounds familiar. Maybe because that’s what you told Johnny when you broke up with him. “I believe you are responsible enough to lead your own team, and this is your chance to demonstrate your skills,” your superior told you. It wasn’t very clear on your end because your ex is just a few feet away from you.

“Thank you, ma’am. I will do my best,” was all you could say. Your boss then left you alone with... him.

You stood there in shock, but you tried your best not to express it with your face, mainly because you didn’t want him to think that he still had an effect on you. You didn’t want him to think that his showing up at your workplace so early in the morning three months after your break up still has an effect on you. 

You thank the universe that some of your colleagues are late because if they were here, they would make fun of you until the sun sets. After all, they were the ones you drank with until your heartaches ended.

You looked at him and saw him looking at the displays in your work. You realized that this was his first time here. Throughout the course of your 7-year relationship, he never insisted on visiting, or maybe you just didn’t let him.

‘He looks.. well.’ You thought to yourself, and you don’t know why there was a hint of disappointment laced in the crevices of your brain. Could it be because he looks like he is doing a lot better than you or because he looks like he is doing a lot better without you? 

There he is, still standing tall, and here you are with all of your fears coming back to your system. The fear that led you to end everything, despite everything being good, If the reason you gave him that night wasn’t really clear on his part, it wasn’t clear to you either. After all, your mind was clouded with your low self-esteem, but it was a lot more than that. It was too much for you to take, and you just didn’t want to burden him anymore. He has a book of plans, and yours was paper thin due to your uncertainties. But is that even important now that everything is done?

You cleared your throat in an attempt to get his attention. “Let’s head to the conference room.” Putting your ex aside, this is a great opportunity for you to get promoted. You haven’t seen the project proposed by your client, but this is your chance to get the salary you deserve and your own office. After countless nights of working overtime and overextending yourself, it will all soon be worth it. You hoped.

Johnny Suh won’t ruin this chance.

You didn’t let the awkward walk to the conference destroy the harmony and creativity you could offer for this project, and the moment you sat on one of the chairs in the conference room, you didn’t waste any second asking, “What are your goals and objectives for this project? ”

Your immediate question didn’t surprise Johnny. You are the type of person who is very driven. And he knows that. Very well.

“I would want a space that is aesthetically pleasing and functional.” His answer exuded a lot of professionalism. Something you hope he maintains until the end of this project.”

“And what is the budget for this project?”

“As long as we don’t exceed tens of millions, though I don’t mind not staying within the budget only if it is very essential for the house.”

‘Tens of millions. He really has a lot of money, huh? ’ You thought. You look at the mood board on the folder handed to you by your boss, and right there you understand why he needed that much money. It’s almost a mansion! 

‘Why does he need a house this big? ’ You asked yourself. Maybe it’s for his family. He always mentioned wanting to build a house for his mom and dad so they would live closer to them and not experience the hassle of buying expensive tickets and tiring flights.

After more questions, you almost forgot that you were working with your ex. Maybe you don’t really care anymore. Maybe you didn’t care that he was starting to turn one of his plans into reality. A house? Such a big step into your 30s. While you go home every day to a small apartment that has been opening its doors for your big problems, Maybe in those three months, he already found the path while you were still navigating the route towards it.

You looked at his back as he stepped out of the room. A view you are strangely familiar with. Even if the results of your decision still haven't caught up to your life, change is very different in Johnny Suh. Change looks good on him.

You let out a small laugh when you remember the number of times you wished the worst for him. Turns out he is doing a lot better now that you are gone from his life. Aside from that, he didn’t sound affected at all. It’s just you who is still stranded on the same ground.

But there is something you can’t deny. Not blinded by anger anymore. You are really proud of him.

After the meeting, you gathered your team. You hired an engineer and an assistant. You also consulted a group of construction workers willing to work on the project. It's the productive day you wished for.

As the day came to an end, you received a text message from him.

Please be at the groundbreaking ceremony. It’s nothing big but it would be nice to have you there.

The message read. As much as you didn’t want to go, he is still your client and you need to, for the harmony of the team.

I will be there. You typed on your phone as you waited for a cab to stop in front of you. This is the closure you needed. This is the closure you need to move on from your paper-thin plans and actually move forward with real, concrete plans. It doesn’t matter if you are navigating the route alone; as long as you know, when you walk towards the path you promised him, you will carry no regrets. You will know that it was for the better.

The 20 minutes you spent inside the taxi were more excruciating than that random Tuesday night when you first cried over the two of you. It’s bittersweet in the sense that you no longer feel angry about your own choices and feel sad because you have come to the realization that you no longer have the right to pry into his choices. He wants to build a house. Good for him. He specifically asked for you to design his house. Fucking great. It totally doesn’t feel like he is doing this to make you feel bad. But knowing Johnny, he is not the type of person to hold a grudge. If he loved you in the past, then he has no reason to hate you in the future, despite not being a part of it anymore. 

And the day of the groundbreaking ceremony came quickly. You wore your best clothes to look as presentable as possible, and as expected, the moment you stepped foot onto the site, the cool breeze was the first one to welcome you. The 500-square-meter lot was surrounded by trees inside a gated community. It's a very secluded area. You wouldn't expect this to be in the middle of the city. The walls and trees hovering over the houses are enough to muffle the noises from the highway.

"Hey there, it's good to see you," Johnny greeted you warmly, his smile stretching wide across his face. You reciprocated with an equally warm smile. Despite only seven simple words passing between you, the air seemed to thicken with emotions, leaving you momentarily breathless. Johnny's presence was striking, a stark contrast to the person you had parted ways with three months prior. 

"Ah, well, I couldn't possibly leave a client hanging," you replied with a light chuckle, trying to shake off the sudden intensity of the moment. You blamed your tardiness on traffic, a common excuse but one that felt feeble in this instance.

Johnny's laugh was soft and understanding. "No worries, I completely understand," he reassured you.

The exchange hung in the air, followed by a brief but poignant silence. It was as though the unspoken weight of the time apart and the changes that had occurred in both of your lives weighed heavily in the space between you, mingling with the anticipation of what was to come.

"Hey, are you feeling hungry at all? There's a sandwich over there if you're in the mood. Oh, and by the way, Engineer Lee is currently in the tent."

“Not really,  I will just take a look around the lot. Thanks”

The ceremony started earlier than originally planned. You stood at the back with your friend Ten, who is also the engineer you hired for this project. You watched Johnny with his parents, holding a golden shovel, marking the ground as the start of the construction process. Materials are all set, and the design is already settled. The workers will be present on the site tomorrow, and they will start working on the foundation of the house. 

You let out a sigh of relief when Johnny’s parents didn’t notice you at the ceremony. Maybe it’s because of the new haircut, or you really just didn’t want to be seen. But that really is inevitable when Johnny and his family are inviting the entire team for dinner at their house. And Ten has been pushing you to at least say hi to them. After all, the family didn’t do anything wrong to you.

“Just go to them and say hi!” He said as he slightly pushed you towards them. Your eyes were glued to the family. They were laughing, and his mother looked very happy as she fixed her son’s hair. You are used to seeing them like this. They were like your second parents at the end of the day.

You mustered your courage and walked towards them. You don’t know why you are so nervous about greeting them when they’ve only given you nothing but love.

“Hi, auntie, uncle.” You greeted them with a genuine smile plastered on your face. They turned to look at you in surprise.

“Oh my goodness, honey. You didn’t tell me that the best architect in town will be in charge of the house,” his mother said before engulfing you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around the older lady and laughed in response. You exchanged eye contact with his father before smiling and nodding at him, and after that, your gaze fell on Johnny, who was looking at the both of you with emotions whirling around his face—something you cannot quite paint. He was smiling, but his eyes looked very different. You brushed it off with the reason that you guys haven’t seen each other for months. What rights do you have to dictate the emotions in his eyes?

“How have you been, darling?” His mother asked you with so much gentleness laced in her voice. Her eyes scanned every part of your face.

“I am doing great, auntie. How are you?” 

“Well, I am really thrilled for our new house! And to have you design our home, ugh, it’s like a dream come true.” She said, and you gave her a small smile. “I saw how much you worked hard to get where you are right now, and I am so proud to see how far you’ve come.” She continued as you both slowly walked away from Johnny and her husband. 

You could only hum in response. Overwhelmed by the love and appreciation she is showering you with. You looked at your hand; she was squeezing so tightly, and you realized that the moment you lost Johnny, you also lost the mother who has showered you with love ever since.

"Listen, I know whatever happened between you and my son is no longer my place to pry into, but I just want to ask you to try and settle things. I understand he can be a bit stubborn, but if you two can't reconcile romantically, at least try to maintain a friendship," she said unexpectedly, catching you off guard with the sudden turn in conversation. You gazed at her, unsure of where she was leading with this.

"You're the one who understands him better than anyone else, who knows the deepest corners of his heart. It'll be difficult for him to find someone else like you," she continued, her words carrying a weight of sincerity as she held your gaze. "He loves you dearly, my dear."

"I loved him too, auntie. But sometimes parting ways is for the best. I hope you can understand that," you replied softly, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness.

"You know I'll always understand," she reassured you, her tone gentle and understanding.

"Thank you for everything, and for trusting me with this house," you expressed your gratitude sincerely.

"Honey, trust me when I say it was all him. He trusted you with this house," she replied warmly.

Dinner with the future house owners came and went and now it was time for goodbyes. There wasn’t much talk while you were eating. You were just enjoying the switching conversations in your surroundings. You would answer when they asked you questions  but you don’t actively participate in the discussion.

"Thank you for dining with us, Engineer Lee, and honey," Mrs. Suh addressed both of you with a warm smile. "Thank you so much for coming."

"It's my absolute pleasure, auntie. Thank you so much for having me," you responded with genuine gratitude, your smile reflecting the warmth of the evening.

"I'll get going, ma'am, sir," Ten interjected, offering to drive you home. You glanced at him, mustering a condescending smile, and mouthed, 'I can handle myself.'

"You sure?" he persisted, concern evident in his voice.

"Yep, don't worry," you reassured him.

"Okay. Bye, everyone. Thank you so much for this amazing night," Ten bid farewell, expressing his gratitude to the gathered company before making his exit.

"Uh, I can drive you home," Johnny offered as Ten's car exited the gate.

"Oh, no, no nee—" you began to decline, but Mrs. Suh intervened.

"Yes! Yes, drive her home. You commute, right? You know it's dangerous for you to commute, especially late at night. So yeah, take her home, Johnny," she insisted, her concern for your safety overriding any objections you might have had.

You can never, and I mean never, decline any offer from Mrs. Suh. She has always been persistent, and that is one of her charms. Something Johnny didn’t get from his mom. You can never say no to her, not in the way that she will get mad or upset if you decline; she is just so good at it.

You took a deep breath and let out a smile, “Okay.”

And there you were, in your ex’s car, three months after your breakup.

It was like your throat was dry because of the coldness inside the car. You couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word, and the same thing goes for the man driving. The route to your apartment is something you have memorized so well, and now it is mixed with the familiar, clean scent of his car and the feeling of relief that you are going home with the person who was once the love of your life. It’s very familiar. 

Because it was all you lived for in those seven years.

You worked your best because the thought of going home with him and telling him about your day is what you lived for all those years. You worked your best because you wanted the best for the both of you without knowing it’s what would break the two of you. Maybe it was the overwhelming amount of socialization you did earlier, but now you could admit that you were insecure. You were insecure about him having so many plans and being so sure of his future with you while you worked tirelessly at a job you were not sure deserved you. You wanted the best for him, and you just didn’t have the capability to be the best for him. You wanted more for yourself because he made you feel small. Not intentionally on his side. You can now admit that it’s totally your problem. He never did anything wrong. You just think he is too good for you. And you wouldn’t let him have a future with someone like you. 

You wouldn’t want him to live in a future that is uncertain.

“Engineer Lee mentioned something about paint and tile picking tomorrow for the interior.” He took the upper hand and broke the silence. You looked at him and nodded your head.

“Yeah, uhm, you can tag along if you want.” You regret saying that. Why did you immediately assume he wanted to come with you? 

“I was going to ask about that. Okay, I will go tomorrow.” He responded, and then silence hit the both of you for the nth time. 

Friday, rush hour, everyone desperate to go home, and you were one of them.

You wish Johnny would just drive faster so he wouldn’t have to sit in the painful silence, but the traffic wouldn’t let him. 

You made a concerted effort to keep your gaze away from him, determined not to let your neck betray your curiosity. Despite your best efforts, fate seemed to have other plans, and against your will, your muscles betrayed you, turning your head to face him. To your surprise, you found him already looking at you, his gaze meeting yours in a brief moment before both of you looked away at the same time. 

You want him to ask if you are doing well. You want him to ask how you’ve been in those times you weren’t together. You want to see him desperately get to know you again in those times he missed your presence. You want him to ask, or at least say something. You want him to initiate a conversation. You want to know if he still cares about the choices you’ve been making. You want him to ask about the little things happening in your life, just like before.

But he didn’t.

Until you reached your building, he didn’t ask anything.

From days to weeks, until it became months of working together, nothing much happened. Totally not that closure your foolish ass expected. Honestly, why were you even expecting anything? Now that months have passed and it’s been a year since you ended everything, I don’t know why you are still expecting anything when you don’t even know what you want to happen.

Sure, he would casually talk to you when he’d drive to the site to visit. Sure, he would buy you breakfast or lunch, but you are not the only one. You are working for him, and he is paying you. He wants you to do a great job, and of course he would treat you well. Sure, he would still invite you to dinner with his family, but he would also invite Engineer Lee. 

On the other hand, Johnny has been making extra efforts to make you comfortable after that night. Not expecting anything in return, maybe his mother was right. A little effort will make a friendship between the two of you blossom. After all, it’s a very essential thing when you are working together. But he can’t help but notice that after that night on the road with you, you were being a little more cautious than usual. As if you were walking on eggshells around him. He understands that you feel sorry for what happened, but he isn’t the type of person to dwell in the past now that you are still here in the present.

You have been very ignorant of the fact that he is trying to mend things between the two of you, and now that the project has almost come to an end, with Johnny seeing you as oblivious to his efforts, maybe he should try a bit harder.

If only you knew. If only the both of you knew how much you hoped something would happen that night when he drove you home. If only one of you asked something. But let us not dwell on what could have been; you are here, and this is the last day of construction. They are only installing the lights outside and painting the exterior walls. 

Like many other nights before, no one took the initiative. As always. The two of you might be so used to it by now.

The housewarming event came up next, and both of you knew this was your last chance. This marks the end of the project and the opportunity to mend the broken hearts you left each other with.

After working hard for years, you finally got the promotion you wanted. You proved yourself with a project they assigned you, and he was somehow involved too. But all the credit goes to you. You worked really hard to find the best supplier and design the house they wanted.

You've accomplished the first and final wish you made for him. Now, you don't owe him anything anymore. You designed his first house and have become a better version of yourself in the process. Perhaps that was the closure you needed—not just with him, but with yourself too.

And you were fine with just that. You didn’t want to expect anything anymore.

You made sure to greet all the people you worked with throughout this project, and you didn’t forget to express your gratitude to the team that supported you and showed patience every step of the way.

As you socialize with more people, Johnny, who has been observing you the entire time, has a genuine smile on his face. ‘Change looks good on you,’ he said to himself. He can’t help but be proud. He doesn't have any reason not to. You look the happiest right now, and as someone who knows all your dreams, this is a check in the box among many others. 

He made the right decision by picking you as his architect. Other than being good at what you do, he saw this project as an opportunity for you to really get what you want, and the reason why you ended things with him was growth. He knows how much you need that push in your life. He knows how much you need something to happen in your life. Even if it means losing you. Even if it means not being with you every step of the way, He is happy for you and the change you made in that one year.

Amidst the bustling crowd, you locked eyes with him and offered a smile, prompting him to raise his champagne glass in acknowledgment. With purpose, you made your way through the gathering until you stood beside him on the balcony of the freshly constructed house, both admiring the view of the garden below.

For several moments, silence enveloped you both, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Thank you for your brilliance, architect," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"It's my pleasure," you responded, the words carrying a sense of fulfillment.

"As an extra payment, can I take you out to lunch tomorrow?" His offer brimmed with confidence, breaking the quietude with a hint of anticipation.

“How could I ever say no to that, Mr. Suh? ”

[velaryqns]

Please write being Gregory house wife, pregnant with your second child and just domestic life with house, toddler and baby on the way

Peaceful Evenings

Pairing: dad & husband!gregory house x wife, mom, & pregnant! reader

summary: It's late in the evening when Greg gets home from work...

warnings: fluff, pregnancy, I just threw out a random name for the kid when I started writing...so

You looked at the time as you scrolled through the website you were shopping on. You and Greg had recently discussed the need for a new dining room table. The two seater wasn’t going to work much longer, Parker needed to start using a booster and the baby was due in two months. Plus, you’d be able to get James to help set one up if you needed it. None of the tables had grabbed your attention, and you rubbed a hand over your stomach and hummed, “We might have to convince daddy to go to an actual furniture store.”

The baby seemed to kick in response, and you chuckled and closed the laptop. You sat forward more and stretched your back out, then kicked your legs over the bed to go check on your son in his room. Parker was nearly three, but you still frequently worried about him. Greg had tried to calm your nerves about him, as your son wasn’t a restless sleeper, and was usually good about sleeping through the night after settling into a nice routine.

Sure enough, your son was sound asleep in his bed when you peaked in. Across the hall from his room was the nursery, neutral colors with pops of all colors of the rainbow for your new baby. You continued down the hall, one hand against the wall, to the kitchen. You’d spent most of the evening trying to keep Parker entertained and make sure everything was clean after your day at the hospital.

Thankfully, being a nurse didn’t keep you away from your life at home as frequently as House being the Head of Diagnostics did to him. You couldn’t blame him, and knew he didn’t like when he had to call you and say that something was running behind. It wasn’t frequent, as rare cases were called rare for a reason.

He had called ahead of dinner and you told him to get home safe. But now, he should be home any minute. You turned on the kitchen light, adjusting to the brightness as you got a glass of water, as well as made yourself a cup of tea. As you waited for your tea to be done, you sat at the table. You looked around the living room.

Parker had a few toys still lying around that you’d forgotten to pick up, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up this late into the evening. Your eyes were taken from the toys when the sound of keys at the door could be heard. You looked over, smiling at your husband as the door was pushed open.

He had a tired look on his face, but was able to offer you a smile as he set his keys and bag aside. He limped into the kitchen, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You hummed, feeling his hand land on your shoulder and squeeze it gently. He pulled away and grabbed the other chair to sit closer to you, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled at him, cupping your chin with one hand, “Dinner is in fridge if you’re hungry.”

He nodded, patting his hands against the table and rising to his feet. He limped over to the fridge and you turned to watch as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring your tea for you before he brought it over, “You didn’t have to stay up.”

“Don’t just blame me,” you chuckled and patted your stomach, where the baby had finally stilled for the evening as you took the mug from your husband, “I’m hoping some tea will help me sleep though.”

There was silence as his food reheated and you took a sip of your tea, before you hummed with a small smile, "And maybe with you here tonight."

Your husband let out a small chuckle as the microwave went off and he joined you at the table, sitting in the other chair and taking a bite of his food. You sat back in your chair slightly, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug as you watched your husband eat. There were a few minutes of silence before you heard the unmistakable sound of Parker in his room. Your eyes darted toward the clock above the stove, a slight frown forming before you pushed yourself to your feet.

You squeezed a hand on your husband's shoulder, squeezing lightly before you wandered down the hall and into Parker's room. You stepped inside to see him sitting up in bed, a new small one that you'd bribed James into helping House bring into the apartment and set up. You smiled at your son, helping him out of the bed and holding his hand as he walked down the hall.

The toddler's sleepy face instantly lit up when he spotted his father sitting at the dining room table. You let his hand go and allowed him to rush into his father's arms. Parker settled on Greg's lap as you sat back in the chair, stretching your back as you and Greg locked eyes, a small smile on your husband's face while Parker began rattling off, with whatever words he knew how to use, about his day after Greg had left.

You knew then that your husband would take the responsibility of tucking the little boy back into bed, and that you'd join each other in the comfort of your large bed and blankets.

This was nice.

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Case

Summary: it was your last class you had to get credit for before you were able to become a wizarding world public defender. Six years after you left Hogwarts. Now all that stood between you and your future was one professor and an open case you were tasked with closing.

A/N: *emerges from the void* who's ready for another Draco series? I don't know how long this will be and there's barely a plan but I'm too excited to not write this and share it with you guys. I've missed yall. How are you?

Dr. Dresden was one of the hardest professors standing between me and my new career as a public defender. I had heard rumors about the students that had dropped the entire career path after one meeting with him. Fatefully avoiding him until now there was nothing that I could do. He was the last credited course I needed: the professor who gave out real unsettled cases for us to work through. All of the names were changed for anonymity but we were still expected to close the case. 

Walking to the ornately carved door I took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Come in,” I heard his gravelly voice. 

I opened the door, a polite smile on my face. Dr. Dresden could have been sixty eight or three hundred and four and there would be no telling. His wispy white hair was coiffed carefully and his ancient blue eyes hid behind thick bifocals. His face was permanently pinched in a pensive expression, as if the years of untangling court cases altered the way he had aged. His tweed suit was immaculately clean and like the rest of his office was probably never changing. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” He greeted. 

“Professor,” 

“Come, sit.” He chose his words so carefully, as if the world wasn’t worth the extra effort to form complete sentences. 

I sat without saying a word. What did you say to someone like him? He knew he held my future in his hands and all I had to do was survive. It was one court case. I had done thousands up until now. 

We were at an impasse. 

Still saying nothing, he pulled out a thick envelope out of one of his desk drawers and set it on his desk in front of me. 

“Four o’clock Tuesday.” He said. “I expect to see progress.” 

“Yes sir,” I took the envelope in my hands. 

“That’s all.” 

Nodding I stood, inhaling deeply. The weight of the bulky folder in my hands held the weight of my future and somehow I thought it would be heavier. 

“And Miss Y/l/n?” He called before I left his office, my hand on the doorknob. 

I turned. 

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m very interested to see what becomes of you,” There was almost a smile on his face and I didn’t know whether to take his words as a compliment or a looming threat. 

“Yes Professor,” I nodded a goodbye and left his office. 

Drawing my wand I apperated back home, walking up the steps of my building, unlocking it, feeling the safety behind the closed door. 

My apartment in Epsom was just far enough away from the city that I didn’t feel suffocated. It was quiet, quaint, with locals who knew me from working my way through law school at a local restaurant. A wizard community had been here since the 1200s and they never really left. Of course they were all skeptical when I moved in at the end of my undergrad, but now it was like I had lived here all my life. 

Setting the folder on my four seater little dining table, I switched a couple of lights on. 

Tuesday was my first deadline. It was in two days. What had he expected me to accomplish in two days? I could have the case memorized and thousands of books filled with ancient wizard laws that applied but without names or locations, I couldn’t make progress. 

A sigh left my lips. 

I was getting ahead of myself. 

The folder taunted me on the table as I made dinner and poured a drink. It was time to get to work. 

Pulling out fresh parchment, quill and ink, I opened the folder. 

It was a War case. They were common. Those who may or may not have been associated with Voldemort and his followers; all looking to be acquitted. I scanned the cover page. The wizard or witch’s name was changed to a number. 

They were the child of a death eater and had taken the mark themselves during this war. They were charged with the murder of a very important wizard: whose name I also didn’t have. The wizard confessed to the crime, but the case was still open despite the confession. 

That was odd. 

My dinner was forgotten as I ruffled through the pages trying to figure out why this case was still open despite having the confession on record. Then there were the ballistics from the Aurors of the wizard’s wand. A killing curse was never cast. 

“Oh,” I sat back. “Okay,” This was interesting. Really interesting. 

How could a wizard under veritaserum confess to a crime his wand didn’t commit? 

The wizard killed was killed by the Unforgivable curse. 

I started reading through the witness statements versus the wizard’s own personal statements. The wizard claimed that everyone there who had witnessed the crime had died in the war. The witness statements I did have were character testaments—all claiming they believed the wizard was possible of such an act. 

At the very bottom of the folder was one last witness statement. 

Words I would never forget. 

Words that I gave an Auror six years ago. 

I knew this case. 

I knew this wizard. 

And after a few minutes, I had every witness named.

This was the case of Draco Malfoy.

.

the defendant

.

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[fluorescentbalaclava]

training season's over

Chapter 5: R&R

Summary:

R&R, military slang for rest and recuperation (also rest and relaxation, rest and recreation, or rest and rehabilitation)

TF141/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, they can't help but check you out

previous: chapter four "C.R.O.W."

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

"Shouldn't you get a secretary for this?" You asked as you put her another paper through the shredder, watching the thin lines of paper fall into a bin underneath.

"I have four secretaries, and two of them happen to be busy yelling at rookies while other is away," Price said, as he passed you yet another block of paper to be destroyed. "I talked to your parents this morning."

"Fair enough," you said as you divided the big block into smaller groups of paper, not wanting to get the paper shredder stuck...again. You lifted your gaze to watch Price, curiosity spiked. He had his back turned at you, going through archives searching for old files to destroy and fill its drawers with updated and more useful intel. "Did you?"

" They're moving back to their house today, we concluded that they're not in immediate danger, but we'll keep them on watch, just in case. Sent help, so don't worry." He said as he looked through a folder to see if the papers were worth keeping.

"Yeah, they texted me this morning, thanks for that...who did you send, though?"

"Ghost." He said as he threw the files to the floor, amongst other useless paper.

"Why?" You couldn't help the sceptical tone slip from your mouth.

"Believe it or not, he is very good with families,” he said picking up the files he threw on the floor, putting it next to you on the very large piles of archives for you to run through the machine.

"Your mom renewed her invitation for us, you know?" Price said with a hint of tease, making you smile softly in amusement.

"We will see about that" You answered, running more paper through the machine, getting it stuck.

Despite your avoidant tendencies, it would be nice to be back home, at least for one night. A voice in the back of your brain made you think you didn’t deserve to go back there, your tainted hands would just ruin everything they touch. “Sei nicht albern, maus.” König said once to you, just before giving you the number of his therapist, “The things we’ve seen, sooner or later get to your head. You should talk to someone about it.”

You’ve learned to push the thoughts away, most of the time at least. But frequently talking to your family was something you still couldn’t get around. Baby steps.

Another reason to keep pushing that invitation was that your relationship with your colleagues was still a work in progress.

At first it was trying to get the trust of a stray cat, they could come closer, observing you, trying to figure you out, but one sudden movement to reach out and it would flee and disappear. You were sitting on the couch of the common room. It was cozy enough, a big couch where you were curled up with a cup of tea, and two one-seater sofas in each end, a coffee table in front of you, and behind it the television where you were currently watching the Great British Bake Off, as you did every Tuesday. Behind you, a small kitchenette with a metal dining table and five chairs. As if we ever sat all together there.

The first time Gaz approached you he stood behind you, looking at the TV in silence.

"What are they baking?" He asked after a few minutes of silently watching how the contestants ran through the kitchen.

"Devil's food cake" You answered before taking another sip.

"Oh, nice." He said, before becoming silent again. A few more minutes passed, as he remained stood behind you, watching someone struggle with their ganache.

"Uh...do you want to join?" You said quietly, looking up at him from over your shoulder, moving your legs off the sofa to give him space. When he heard your voice, he seemed to snap out of the trance caused by the amateur bakers.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry, I have things to do. Thanks anyway." He said taking a last look at the TV before leaving the room. Damn it.

However, over the following days bumping into him became a common occurrence. He would hold the punching bag for you, and vice versa, while making small talk.

"Do you want tea?" You heard behind you, your attention switched from the explanation of the new recipe to the man behind you, you were in the same position as last week.

"Yes, sure. Chamomile, please," you answered, before turning back at the TV, slightly taken aback by the sudden offering. But then you reminded yourself: They're your team, you have to get comfortable with each other, otherwise the next few years will be hell and you'll have to move into the infirmary to hear someone talk to you more than two sentences. Then you went back to the cat logic. You had to wait for them to approach, not the other way around, or they will pull away as they don't fully trust you yet.

Back in KorTac, you would have considered König somehow close to you, or so you thought, as you seemed to be his main target for long excited speeches about bombs, and you also opened about your feelings, when they became too overwhelming, and he was surprisingly understanding, sharing a bit of his experience on the matter. Calisto was nice too, a bit posh sure, but she had great and expensive taste for both military equipment and clothes and---

"Here's your cuppa" You were snapped of your thoughts as Gaz passed you a warm mug. You moved your legs off the couch, just to test the waters, and to your surprise he did sit on the other edge of the couch this time. "What are they baking today?"

"Thanks, Gaz" You said before eyeing the mug that said ‘DEATH BEFORE DECAF’ with a very silly drawing of a grim reaper, making you smirk slightly before looking up at him and then the TV again. "They're doing pavlova.”

"Pavlova was always a bit too sweet for me" Gaz replied, taking a sip of his own tea, his mug had a yellow sign that had ‘I cause safety briefs’ written on it. Making small talk? Nice.

"Yeah, well, they're making a lemon one, so I think the sourness balances the sweetness a bit." Am I really at a military base talking about pavlova?

"Do you bake?" He looked at you for a brief moment before looking back at the TV.

"Oh, fuck no" You answered chuckling, taking a small sip of the hot brew. You let the flowery scented vapour fill your nostrils, feeling the warm liquid going down your throat, before adding. "I always end up messing the measurements and it comes out edible but a bit off. Do you?"

"Not at all. It's precise work, like disarming a bomb. I would rather disarm the bomb, though." He said, in a slightly playful tone, amused at your reply. "Why do you always watch this then?"

“It's fun, and besides it's an easy watch to distract yourself a bit," you said shrugging, still watching the TV. Helps me not to think.

“Good point," he said before going back to a slightly more comfortable silence than the usual one. And you had to admit, it was nice to have company next to you.

-

"Are ye fuckin' her?" Soap suddenly said, loudly enough to make other tables turn around, making Gaz choke on a piece of broccoli.

"What?! No!" Gaz answered, sounding like the thought didn't even cross his mind.

It did actually, once, when you were leaving the gym and you took off your oversized shirt throwing it over your shoulder, standing only in a sports bra and drying the sweat from your neck with a small towel. But this wasn’t the time or place to admit that.

Ghost and Price were sitting next to them, eating silently, looking at the exchange. A glimpse of amusement in Price's eyes.

"Then why are ye with her all the time now?" Soap said in the same accusatory, pointing at him with his fork.

"I'm not! We just train sometimes and watch TV on Tuesdays, that's hardly all the time" He answered with a shrug before taking another bite from his lunch. After some more contemplation, and still under the judgemental gaze of Soap, he added. "Besides she's nice. A bit brutal, though. Should see how she punches the bag sometimes, sounds like a gunshot.”

"Kid's fine, just need a bit of guidance" Price quipped in, still looked amused at the exchange. “And you can’t do that if you don’t talk to her.”

-

It was cold around you, the frozen breeze seemed to go straight through the heavy layers of clothes and gear, your throat getting dry and sore. You looked around only to see a dark and humid cell, you tried to move your arms, but the coldness was so intense they were numb. Suddenly the heavy metal door opened, and a figure walked in. You tried to talk but no words came out, your mouth so dry it felt incapable of muttering anything. He's saying something, you can't figure out what. The figure towers over you, the light coming from behind him covering his face with shadows. When he lifts a hand, you notice he's holding a gun, with a quick movement he lowers it harshly against your forehead.

You wake up with a gasp, your hand moving quickly to your head to cover the place where he hit you, only to find an old scar on your scalp, covered by your hair. Your movements are a bit clumsy and erratic as you look around. Dark and cold, but not a cell...close enough.

You're agitated as you look around, recognizing the place as your room in the barracks, you see the couple of decorations you pulled out, closed boxes pilling on a corner, the dim light of your lava lamp. As you sit up in your bed, you notice that at some point of the night your weighted blanket fell from your bed, as you got too warm, and your unconscious brain decided to kick it off. Your heart rate went down slightly, but the feeling of alertness wasn't wearing off. You lazily stood up, still feeling slightly on edge, put on your slippers, and walked to the common room.

Soap on the other hand, had to double check if he wasn’t hallucinating when he saw a girl, with her hair down and messy as if she just woke up, fleece and fluffy pyjama pants with a heart pattern and a matching top walking to the kettle turning it in on. He even stopped chewing on his biscuits to focus on her, as you were taking deep breaths with your hands on the counter. The lights were off except for a lamp next to the TV that was always on.

"Lass?" He said confused, sitting on the dining table on the other side of the room, making you jump at the sound.

"Bloody hell!" You said letting out a shaky breath, hands gripping the kitchen counter as you turned to him.

"Jesus Christ, calm down, it’s just me,” he said furrowing his brows, raising both of his hands in surrender.

"I just woke up and you scared the shit out of me." You huffed a deep breath, massaging your neck in an attempt to sooth your nerves. Soap could tell from the moment you walked in how tense you were, and he tried to approach it as casually as he could.

"Midnight snack or nightmares?" He asked with a mouthful as he stared back at you.

"The latter" You answered in a mix of resignation and tiredness, as your hand went up and started tracing the scar on your scalp. The kettle stopped. "Tea?",

"Well, welcome to the club. I think no one here slept eight hours straight in ages" he said putting another biscuit in his mouth. "Coffee."

"No, it's late. I will make you a chamomile" you said in a groggy tone, not leaving room to discuss.

"Whatever you say, ma'am" he said with a chuckle in return, but didn't complain.

He tried, he swore he did…but as you stretched to grab the mugs from the cabinet, he couldn’t help his eyes from trailing down to your body. Not that he hasn’t looked before, he wasn’t blind after all, and you usually walked to you room in a white undershirt and your tactic pants, fresh off the shower after training. But the loose uniform didn’t do you justice. His glance trailed down from the way your top stuck to your waist, and how your fluffy pants hugged your hips…and when he caught a glimpse of a tattoo on your lower back, made his jaw drop lightly, his eyes were glued on it. But he quickly snapped out of his daze when you turned around, making him quickly look away.

You walked back to the table with the two hot brews, sitting across Soap on the table and passing one mug to him. He looked at the cup, lifted it up and sniffed the vapour coming out of it.

"Smells nice. What is this for?"

"It helps you sleep and calm down" you said before taking a sip, looking up at him.

"Sounds useful" he said taking a sip first, visibly processing if he liked the taste, before taking another more generous one. He put the mug down, handling you the package of biscuits, Rich Tea. "Want one?"

"Aren't those Ghost's?" You asked hesitantly grabbing the package, looking at him narrowing your eyes.

"Nah, bought them myself" He said shrugging, and that was enough for you to grab one, the idea of a sweet treat too tempting to pass. "Ah! You ate one. Now you are an accomplice to theft, and you can't tell Ghost."

"Should have known, you never buy anything" You answered playfully rolling your eyes but grabbing another one anyway. Damage is already done. "Gaz always says you steal his coffee."

"Well, yeah, but Gaz just scolds me and never does anything. If LT knows I found his stash he'll use me as a target practice" he said taking another sip, to swallow the biscuit he had in his mouth. Once his mouth was empty again, he added in a soft tone. "So…"

"So?" You replied in a confused tone.

"Warming up to us, bonnie?" He leaned back on his chair, with a grin. Something in his attitude made you both roll your eyes but smile.

"Guess you could say that.”

                                                                                      -

"So, this is what you watch all the time?" Soap said in a confused, sitting next to Gaz on the other end of the couch. "Why is that bloke crying?"

"He did the macaronage wrong, so his macarons came out hollow, crumbly and have no feet" Gaz answered focused on the show rather than in Johnny.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Gaz groaned at Soap still-going questions, making you chuckle.

"He didn't mix the batter enough, so they came out wrong." He replied in a frustrated tone.

"You bake?" Soap asked him again.

"No, but if you shut up and pay attention you would know they literally explain it at the beginning of the show."

"Oh no, don't start over" You mumbled in a concerned tone, seeing the contestant leave the failed batch aside and grabbing the remaining ingredients and starting to mix them again.

"Well, he has to at least try, the others will look terrible when he serves them" Gaz answered, now in a softer tone, leaning back on the couch.

"Yeah, but there's no way he's going to get them in time, he has to do the batter all over, let them sit, put them in the oven..."

"You bake, bonnie?" Soap piped in again, looking at you over Gaz.

"Uh, no."

"Why are we watching this then?" Soap said again, sinking again on the couch, returning his attention to the TV, where some were already finishing the macarons for their presentations. "Those look good though, wonder what they taste like."

"Never had them?" Gaz answered to him, furrowing his brows, to which Soap shook his head. You kept quiet, never really tried them either. "We should go to the town and get some."

You just kept watching the show, assuming they were just speaking between themselves. This situation happened before, people would make plans next to you, you would just play dumb.

"Aye, we should, I have to get more deodorant too" Soap said, and he looked over Gaz at you again, and you were surprised when you heard him add, "You can go out of the base if you're with us, right?"

"Technically yes, you just have to tell the Captain first," You tried your best to contain your excitement at the possibility of being out again, to walk around other people that weren't soldiers, to visit shops, to breathe another kind of air.

"Don't worry about that, will promise him to get you home at nine" he said in a playful tone, with a grin.

"We'll show you around" Gaz said with a smile, and a probably harder than intended pat on your back. "We will get you your own mug too."

"Can I pick it?" You said making obvious you're glancing judgementally at Gaz ‘I cause safety briefs’ mug and at Soap ‘MAD SCOTTISH BASTARD’ mug.

“It's tradition that your superior officers pick it for you, in this case, us” Kyle replied with a grin, matching Soap. You smiled but looked at them suspiciously.

“You’re making that up.” You said narrowing your eyes while looking between them.

“Dead serious” Soap said, lifting his mug. “Ye think I would have picked this?”

“Yes” You answered without thinking.

“Wrong. I wanted the highland cow one.” He then added, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Shh! They’re judging now.” Kyle said, leaning in, his body like a wall between Soap and you, as your attention quickly returned to the TV.

As you heard them both loudly arguing with the decision of the judges, you thought to yourself that being in jail wouldn’t be this entertaining.

next chapter: chapter six "Contact"

taglist: @no-lessthan3

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

[garagesesh]

when we are together

pairing(s): obi wan kenobi x (f!) reader

summary: a glimpse in the life of anakin’s best friends three years after mustafar

warning(s): angst lol

a/n: this is kind of a part two to my anakin story. i have been absent apologies i started school again and a part time job :,) plus the holidays was a horror. idk if this is good or not it’s just been on my mind. title is from the 1975. 

␛ to masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tatooine

16 ABY

The binoculars clicked as you scanned the barren wastelands of Tatooine. The binary suns already beginning to dip beyond the horizon and the desert chill billowed through your sand colored robes.

Where was he?

You couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that he had been found.

By him.

By Vader.

Goosebumps spread across your skin, your hair standing at attention in fear. This couldn’t be the end, you wanted to reach for the force, for comfort, for calm.

Three standard years had passed somewhat quietly and without much incident. The child was doing well, growing steadily in the peaceful home just over the mountains.

The anticipation of danger without knowing where Obi-Wan was and the looming threat of him and his Empire had washed any sort of safety.

Through the binoculars, a spot that was moving at rapid pace rose just above the horizon

A speeder, not of your own came across the desolate sand and rock.

Faster and faster it sped towards you. Glimpsing one last time into the binoculars before completely discarding them in your robes, your breathing hitched and your hand reached for the blaster hidden in your belt.

You didn’t raise to aim but you waited with a finger on the trigger. The speeder got louder and closer. Barreling towards you at unprecedented speed.

A figure with a dark hood and a heavy pack was now identifiable. Sighing you slipped the blaster back into the hidden holster, crossing your arms over your chest. Waiting.

“You scared the living stars out of me!” You huffed. “You know that?!” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t say anything as he powered the speeder down.

“You could’ve commed!” Your hands found your hips. Disappointed and mostly anxious. “Where were you and what is this?”

“Mos Eisley.” Obi-Wan sighed as he gracefully slid off the speeder. He nodded towards the faded-brown speeder. It wasn’t by any means a brand new speeder, it had blaster marks and sand erosion but it was nicer than the old piece of junk you two had salvaged from the Jundland wastes.

“We had a perfectly good one.”

“This one is faster and actually a two seater.” He countered

“We don’t have the credits Obi-Wan!”

“I’ll pick up a second job.”

Always the negotiator.

Huffing you left the older man with the speeder, vanishing into the hut to continue the dinner that was boiling on the stove. Rations again.

Stirring the pot of rice, you lost yourself into the swirls of brown and white. Letting the steam envelope your fear. Only did a warm hand on your waist, trying to squeeze by in the small surroundings pull you out.

“Excuse me.” You hummed as his hand dragged off your waist.

The hut was small, enough space for the two of you but none for a third. The entrance of the home opened to the living room, where in one corner was a makeshift bedroom that was concealed by a blanket you had found. You shared the bed. He had tried for the first cycle on Tatooine to sleep on the small, uncomfortable couch before you finally offered the other side of the bed.

The other corner was a small dining table with two chairs. The kitchen was a step up and had a window into the living space and only one bathroom that was old and needed work.

But it was home.

You ate in silence, feeling guilty of your outburst from earlier.

“I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I was harsh.”

“It’s alright.” He gracefully spooned the soup into his mouth without another word. Obi-Wan cleared the plates and cleaned the dishes, humming a soft tune.

It wasn’t until you had both showered, hair still damp and covered in the blankets of your shared bed, you finally broke the silence.

“I checked on him while you were gone.” Your finger delicately traced the small constellations of freckles on his warm shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you had or not.”

Obi-Wan shifted. “Thank you.”

“He’s so big now.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I can feel him in the force.” You could feel the buzz of the young boys force. Powerful and strong. You didn’t have to reach in to feel him.

“He’s very strong.” Obi-Wan shifted once more, his entire body now facing your own. His large, calloused hand reached into your hair, his thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t know had fallen.

“You feel it too?” You whispered.

“Yes.” He smiled bitterly. “I can feel his presence even now. I’m worried about his strength and what would happen if…”

Obi-Wan trailed off, unable to say the name out loud. Afraid to bring forth the man in existence right then and there in your shared bed.

“Vader.” You whispered for him.

He nodded, his hand still entwined.

Silence enveloped you once more. The blue light of the moon shining through the slotted windows and onto your faces.

“I’m scared.” You admitted, holding his gaze. “Lonely.”

He said nothing in return. His deep blue eyes scanned your face.

After three years, you had shared a last name. Paraded as a married couple to neighbors. Held hands through the market. Light touches as he brushed by. Held you sometimes at night.

But nothing more.

Obi-Wan’s hand untangled from your hair and down the slope of your neck. His thumb caressing the contour of your collarbone.

You thought he was going to kiss you. Finally slot his lips onto your own and maybe even take you right then.

But his hand completely withdrew from you, leaving the warm skin now bitter cold.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He turned over, his bare back now facing you.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist | can I interest you in pt. 2?

[just-some-random-blogger]

Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 16/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                He walks out the front to find Vi sitting at one of the tables groaning, her head rested on a pile of books and her laptop set to the side.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Studying. Go to University they said. It’ll be fun they said. It was all bullshit and lies.”

                “You could always run away to another country.”

                “Oh, I am not fool enough to think my life is as blessed as yours is. If I ran away to America I’d probably end up dead.”

                “You don’t want to travel?”

                “I didn’t say that.”

                “But…?”

                “Can you imagine my parents agreeing to let me go?”

                “What if I went with you?”

                “Where?”

                “Anywhere…Everywhere.”

                “Are you serious?”

                “You’re like my sister –”

                “Cousin.”

                “I might actually have cousins somewhere. Anyway, we could always go together. If you wanted.”

…            …            …

                Sandy, Olivia, Maria, Nicola and Mandy are all sitting at the large twelve-seater dining table when he finally steps into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, silently pours himself coffee from the pot and takes a sip while he just looks at them. They all look back. They’ve clearly been talking about him, or Leo, or more likely his relationship with Leo. Not that he’s told Maria anything, and for her to be the sister that knows the most is unusual. He doesn’t know whether she would have talked or not.

                Sandra is the oldest, nine years Jake’s senior and got to get the whole college experience before their lives came crashing down around their ears. She’d married her boyfriend from college, a man named Daniel who had uprooted his life in Montana to live in Texas. If that didn’t show love and devotion Jake doesn’t know what does. They have three kids, two girls and a boy, ten, eight and six years old. They call him Uncle Jake and think he’s cool. He doesn’t need the ego boost, but he’ll take it regardless.

                Olivia is six years older than Jake, and of all his sisters he’d have to say she’s the one he has the least in common with. He doesn’t know what happened while she was at college, but he just knows she’d come back angry and upset, raging at the world with no time to consider comforting anyone, or being comforted herself. Now though, she seems happy, her own little house built on the farm a ten-minute walk away from Maria in the main house. She cooks and creates things, rescues animals like it’s her job.

                For a reason he’s not one-hundred percent sure of, Maria lives in their family home where they all grew up and where he’s standing right now; looking at the large table where they all congregate around for every special occasion whether he’s there or not. He has always assumed that Sandra didn’t want to live here and raise her own family. Maria is only three-and-a-half years older than Jake, was still in high school and living at home and he’s always considered her the bridge between them all, a middle child acting as glue. Maybe that’s why she stays in the house, reels them all back in every chance she gets.

                Nicola and Amanda are twins, the ones he’s closest to in age, only two years older than him, but he’s definitely closest to Nicola. Nicola came out as a lesbian before Jake even realized that he was maybe not straight and their parents’ easy loving acceptance and support had made it so much easier for him when he figured himself out. The fact that he’s away much of the time means he makes the perfect roommate, only around for a few weeks, always with an end date in sight so she never seems to get sick of him. Amanda, he thinks, is maybe the bravest out of them all, her decision to go after parenthood and take it on single-handed, refusing to wait for some person to come along to make it happen for her. She currently breastfeeding her son and only half of her attention is really on Jake.

                “You going to say anything?” Olivia asks.

                “What’s there to say?” Jake asks, shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. There are collective eye rolls and scoffs around the table and he pulls a face. “What?” he asks again.

                “Maria told us you have a boyfriend.”

                “Did she now…” Jake says dryly, shooting Maria a look and she gives it right back.

                “Did you take the idiot route?” Maris asks, one eyebrow shooting up like she’s daring him to prove her right or wrong either way.

                “No. I didn’t. However if you think me bringing him here for dinner tomorrow isn’t an idiot move on my part then you all need you head’s examined.”

                “If he can’t put up with a little ribbing from us he’s not worth your time,” Nicola states, and she leans back from the table and folds her arms, looks like she’s ready to throw hands.

                “After seven days? You think introducing a guy to all of you, what,” he looks to Maria. “Forty-eight hours after we actually decide to try having a long-distance relationship when he leaves, that meeting my entire family isn’t a complete overkill?”

                “But Maria got to meet him!”

                “That’s because I knew she’d be able to help him better than I could. And I wasn’t… we were just hooking up.”

                The looks his sisters all now exchange have him throwing his hands up in the air in annoyance, no idea what they’re communicating silently. He skulls back the last of the coffee in his mug, regrets it almost instantly given how hot it still is, but it looks like Amanda is finished breastfeeding Lincoln and he grabs the burping cloth and makes grabby hands for his three-month old nephew. While he’s around he gets first dibs on everything and he’s totally going to use Lincoln to hopefully redirect the conversation.

                “You sleep well for your mom last night?” Jake asks, and Amanda snorts.

                “Stop trying to deflect Jake.”

                Damn. He’s out or practice. Not even one question before he’s getting called out; although trying with someone unable to answer back was probably a mistake. Ah well, it was worth a shot.

                “This is the first guy you’ve ever brought home. It’s a big deal.”

                “Okay. First off. There was no conscious decision to bring a guy home. He just… I literally bumped into him at the market on Saturday. ��Until yesterday afternoon we were just fucking –”

                “Jake!” “Language!” “Can you not?” Their voices all overlap and he’s reminded that while he spends most of his time with guys who are trying to get their photo in the dictionary beside curse like a sailor, his sisters have never liked curse words, although when he’s with them one on one they usually let it slide.

                “Making sweet sweet love,” Jake says, giving them all an annoyed look while jiggling Lincoln and patting his back. “Look, I wouldn’t be bringing any guy home after a couple of dates.”

                “Except it’s not just a couple of dates. This is your guy from Italy…” Nicola states.

                “Nicky…” Jake starts, because only she knows quite the extent of his maybe little thing for Leo which he’d built up in his mind. The fact that he’s pretty much had all of that in more the last few days cementing some of his wildest fantasies isn’t something he wants to examine too closely yet.

                “What guy from Italy?”

                “I thought you said it was Bradley Bradshaw?”

                “Yeah. It is. And apparently they met years ago in Italy and Jake calls him Leo,” Maria provides, like she’s repeating something and Jake frowns.

                “It’s what his Italian family call him…” he says defensively, not adding that it’s also what he’s called him in his head for around eight years.

                “It’s how he introduced himself to you,” Nicola provides and Jake shoots her a glare over the top of Lincoln’s head.

                “Italy… didn’t you stop there as part of your first deployment?”

                “Yeah, it was, he sent us a postcard.”

                “Wait. Was he your first?”

                Jake feels hunted, as he often does when they’re all pursuing the same thing or all trying to get him to do something, or find something out.

                “You’re all a bunch of gossips!”

                “Like this is news…”

                “Also that wasn’t an answer. You know…” Amanda says, turning toward Nicola instead of Jake and he groans. Nicola cannot keep anything from Amanda once she knows there is something to know.

                “He wasn’t my first…” Jake mutters, hoping to maybe head them off, but Amanda is studying Nicola with narrowed eyes, Nicola is looking between her twin and back to Jake helplessly and he shakes his head and Amanda’s eyes go gleeful.

                “Ooohhh… there is definitely something. He was –”

                “He’s the first guy Jake ever kissed.”

                “Maria!”

                “What? You told me when you came home very briefly in between rounds of sweet sweet love. Remember? I didn’t realize it was a state secret. We all know who each other’s first kiss are…”

                “Well, we do now.”

                “My first kiss was actually Suzanne McKenzie,” Jake says smugly.

                “You were four. That doesn’t count.”

                “Oh… he was the first man you kissed. And DADT was still in effect.”

                “Yeah,” Jake says on a sharp exhale, and he swallows, looks down at Lincoln to avoid looking at any of them. It was one thing to have their support when he decided to apply to USNA, but they had each taken him aside and told him that DADT was going to make it difficult. They hadn’t been wrong, but other than Nicola he’d felt at the time it was all I support you but…. Nicola had said, fuck them, you go in there and show them what you’re made of.

                So he had.

SEVENTEEN

[changingplumbob]

I tried to build

But sims just wanted to swim 😭 Anyway here's what my whole restaurant looked like. I'm afraid it will be short lived because sims hate me.

On one side of the entryway was a bar, the other just had more waiting area.

And I really liked the idea of chef station in the middle with raised seating. Build mode did not.

At the back you had bar height seating, and bathrooms.

Screw you Dine Out for not letting Devin and Luna ask for any of the SIX two seater tables because they had already been "reserved". So the build itself wasn't a complete disaster, it's just that when you go to play in it sims stuff it up...

I'm still depressed about this and probably will be for some time.

[sims4t2bb]

weekly update

Hello and happy Sunday Monday everyone! This update is arriving onto your home feed a bit later than usual, since Fee and I have both been busy with real life behind-the-scenes. We appreciate your patience! 🙏🏻

As it is, this update is on the longer side, so grab a nice cup of tea and enjoy. From us, as always, happy Simming — onwards and upwards! ✨

— Database

We truly appreciate all of the hard work this community has been putting into converting things lately! A collective cheers to you all 🥂

— Base Game

Build Mode

Quaking Aspen Tree conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Buy Mode

Balanjar Teak Two-Seater Bench, Intimate Ottoman, Must Be Loveseat, Parking It Patio Bench, and Retrositter Bench conversions by @simsinlowspace have been added.

BlandCo Contemporary Toddler Bed, Classic Toddler Bed, The Littlest Big Bed, Modern Life Dollhouse, Racer Dreams, Realistic Princess Doll Castle, Short and Stout Bed by Kindermade, and Victorian Dollhouse conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

— Expansion Packs

Eco Lifestyle

The Freeze Pop Sleep Spot and Cardboard Castle Dollhouse conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

High School Years

Sea of Snakes and One Stop Thrift Counter conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Carnival Reclamation, Vintage Double Poster Bed, Vintage Floral Single Bed, Vintage Noble Night Stand, Vintage Classic Desk, Vintage Decorative Shelf, Lovely Layered Curtains, The Sconce Response, Deco The Halls Pendant Light, and Vintage Grand Armoire conversions by Michelle have been added.

Growing Together

Centerpiece of Attention, Good Things Take Time Planter, Planter's Amalgam of Betrayal, The "Vibe Check" Rocker and The Whipper Snapper Mach 10 Edition Rocker conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Horse Ranch

Barn Pendant Lamp - Medium, Barn Pendant Lamp - Short, Barrelwood Bath Cabinet, Barrelwood Shorty Shelf, Boot Scootin' Reflections Mirror, Bunkhouse Spindle Back Barstool, Bunkhouse Spindle Back Dining Chair, Bunkhouse Spindle Back Loveseat, Charming Country Coffee Table, Chestnut Saloon Back Bar and more conversions by @lordcrumps have been added.

Bunkhouse Spindle Back Rocking Chair and The Rocking Star conversions by @platinumaspiration and @lordcrumps have been added.

Country Classic Barn Dollhouse conversion by @platinumaspiration has been added.

— Game Packs

Journey to Batuu

Trilon Wishing Tree conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Vampires

Bare Pine Tree conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

My Wedding Stories

Albizzia Tree conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Werewolves

Balsam Fir conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Starry Night Toddler Bed conversion by @platinumaspiration has been added.

— Stuff Packs

Nifty Knitting

Armless Rocking Chair by Sit 'n' Stitch, Extra Comfy Armless Rocking Chair by Sit 'n' Stitch, Sit 'n' Stitch Rocking Chair, and Sit 'n' Stitch Rocking Chair with Comfy Cushion conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

— Kits

Little Campers

Up Up Into the Stars Dollhouse conversion by @platinumaspiration has been added.

[ohtobeleah]

This is for your 4K celebration! Could I request the meet uglies prompt 14??

“both showing up to their lover's door, realizing that they've been cheated on with each other”

With Jake and female reader??

This one was actually hella fun to write. Bisexual Hangman is a whole mood for me.

Warnings: Sexually confused Jake Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Okay handsome—“ You tapped your hands against Jake's suited up chest after you’d fixed his bow tie for the seventh time this evening. “Just, don’t do anything stupid between now and when your man comes strutting his stuff down that aisle.” 

Jake chuckled as he nodded soflty, looking down at you in your silk dress that matched the colour scheme of Jake and Bradley’s wedding. Something you never thought you’d be attending. It wasn’t on your bingo card.

“Who would’ve ever thought you’d be my best woman at my wedding—“ Jake had you laughing at the memory of the time you first met. It wasn’t technically the first time, but it had been the first conversation you’d ever had outside of a group setting, outside of work, outside of anything that would have ever seen the pair of you in the same room. And it was for all the wrong reasons. 

***~***~***~***

You never expected something like this to happen. Never in a million years. But the proof was in the pudding—your Fiancé had been cheating on you: 

With some poster boy Naval Aviator. 

“Chris—!!“ No matter how much you yelled and hissed and spat venom against your Fiancé’s front door, he wouldn’t answer. You knew he was home though, his stupid pickup was in the driveway. “Open the door you coward!” It would be to no avail. He didn’t answer and he never would because unbeknownst to you, your cheating now ex Fiancé had dipped out the back door and decided to take his chances on foot to his buddies house. 

In the moment when you let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on at the little two seater dining table Chris’s had—you noticed a sandy blonde pulling up in his F-180 series. Immediately your heart sank but if you knew anything about your dirty rotten cheater of a Fiancé is that he would have kept you a secret from Jake Seresin too. 

And as he walked up to the front door with a confused look plastered across his perfect face you couldn’t help but to feel a little bad for the guy. Hell you didn’t even know he swung the other way, but as you thought about it a little more—the signs were there. 

“Swot?” Hangman asked as he came to a standstill just off the cusps of your Fiancés front porch. “What are you doing here?” Jake had only just started seeing this guy Chris who worked in the communications tower on base. For two weeks Jake felt like he finally had something good going for him. Just two weeks. 

“So you’re the guys that’s been fucking my fiancé huh?” You chuckled to yourself in disbelief—you knew Chris had been messing around with an aviator, you just didn’t know which one. Your bet’s had been on Floyd because again, the signs were there. “Damn Seresin, it’s bad enough that the girls in the admin building all compete for your attention enough as it is, but now they have to compete against the guys too?” You teased as Jake sat down in the empty chair across the small glass round table. “You could’ve had any one you wanted and yet you took mine.” 

“I didn’t know—“ It wasn’t that you and Jake knew each other very well. He knew your name, your face, your hair colour. It was all surface level, nothing of import that would’ve given him an indication that the man he’d been fucking in the bathroom at the Hard Deck for months was actually engaged. For two weeks Jake had something he thought was good, he kinda wished he never stopped to want more when he was just hooking up in the bathroom stall. “If I knew that Chris was engaged I wouldn’t have gone there.” Jake felt disgusted in himself. “He never told me about you.” 

“Yeah well—“ You paused as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over your lower lash line. “It still doesn’t change the fact you were fucking the man I was engaged to, Jake.” 

Hangman didn’t reply straight away, he simply sat there with his elbows on his knees looking down at the ground between his feet. He felt awful, he’d unintentionally ruined a relationship—but he didn’t even know Chris had a whole life outside of the one they had started to weave. 

“How come the two of you don’t live together?” Jake asked softly as you looked at him with nothing but rage behind your saddened eyes. 

“We were saving up to buy a house, Chris didn’t wanna move in together before the wedding.” You explained as your rage softened at the sight of Jake's own heartbreak. “Not that it’s any of my business but I’m a little shocked that it’s you.” You added and that’s when Jake finally looked at you. “I thought you were—“ 

“Straight?” Jake finished your sentence for you through a soft chuckle. “So did I, until your uh—almost husband cornered me in the bathroom a few months back.” Jake explained and although it was hard to listen to, you appreciated the honesty. “Guess I’m still trying to figure it out, you know?” 

“I process your paycheque you know—“ You replied as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the chair you were sitting on. “Every second Thursday I confirm your hours and process your pay.” Pausing, you held Jake's gaze as he waited for you to finish. “Everything I know about you comes from your Xero account.” 

“Everything I know about you is that you apparently process my pay.” Jake caught the smile that crept across your face for a brief second as the two of you laughed softly together on the front porch of your ex Fiancés home. “But, for the record—I’d like to take you out on a sorry I fucked your Fiancé burger run, because let’s face it, I don’t think that guys worth either of times.”

“Please—“ You groaned as you stood, Jake matched your movement and stood with you. “When the next apocalypse comes around there will only be two things that survive.” With a small pause and a sigh, you turned to Jake who was waiting for you to join him on this sympathy burger run. “Cockroaches and Chris Lieham.” 

***~***~***~***~

“Yeah well—I got a soft spot for sexually confused Naval Aviators.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Leah’s 4k Celebration 🎊

[itzynabi]

an: its a three bedroom, three bathroom apartment. the two guest bedrooms are the first rooms in the apartment (on either side of the hallway) i just didnt include them bcs i didnr feel like it. the hallway leads to the kitchen and living room which is where i started from. the pictures are not mine, only the collages

kitchen

— if you thought this apartment would be anything other than princess supreme, you’re not serious

— the members and kibum helped her choose her apartment (the only criteria for the perfect apartment™ was an oven in the kitchen and guest bedrooms bcs she has maaany friends)

— but yeah the kitchen!

— the kitchen is built into the wall so there arent any windows, sunlight comes in from the living room which is, like, right next to it

— she has the most GIGANTIC island ever

— the cutest pots and pans bcs ofc

— and a cute yellow chandelier bcs she hates white lights

living room

— the living room is right across from the kitchen and has a massive window and a place like this

— that couch goes against the wall and the two chairs go on either side

— the coffee table is the love of her lifw and so is the chandelier

— pictures everywhere bcs she has soooo many that she got framed

— and her fave decoration in that room as the frame with notes from various people (photocopies ofc bcs the originals are in a safe box with all of her prized possessions)

— a nice rug and lamp bcs theyre staples

dining room

— this room is off to the side of the living room except there arent windows

— the chandelier ofc

— she’s got an 8 seater table

— and cute chairs bcs duh

— and the sideboard is technically in the living room but it has some fancy crockery

— she’s got two paintings there just to add something to the walls

— she doesn’t really eat there all that often unless she has guests over

bedroom

— princess galore its true!

— when she decided on this apartment and bought it, the members bought her that bed frame and it set the foundation for the decoration of her room

— literally everything is princess themed in here

— the dresser is against the wall across from her bed

— and the little vanity is in the corner next to the balcony

— cutest chandelier and most of the photos in her room are her most favouritest photos that she got printed out

— that rug means the world to her (thank you shinee!!)

— and a cute ballerina painting

bathroom

— pretty simple tbh

— the sink is LONG

— i didnt really know what pics to include

— and im just now realisinf i forgot about her closet🤦‍♀️

— but she has a walk-in closet everyone!!

©️ kim nabi

[wandafiction]

Ex-Husband's Clothes - Just Us Chapter 13

Warnings: Fluff, lil over thinking again.

Word Count: 2392

Series List | Chapter 12 | Chapter 14

================================

"Mine or yours?" Wanda breaks the silence that has fallen over us as we walk around the small lake at the park. After we sat down and the people watching session, we decided it would be nice to take a small walk around the area asking more cliché ice breakers. 

"Using my own question against me I see." I smirk down to the older woman who hasn't let go of my hand since we left the bench. 

"Well, because this was my date idea, I should be the one to ask." She defends lightly.

"That makes sense. I think it's best we go to yours, my sister is staying at my place for a few days. Needs a break from the wife and children apparently." We stop for a moment taking in the calm movement of the water, ripples dancing across the surface as a small breeze pulses through the air. I take a deep breath in allowing the smells of the park to engulf me, turning to look down at Wanda who is doing the same thing. "Shall we head back to the car?" 

"Yes! Let's go!" I laugh as she practically drags me out of the park, down the street and back to my car, the smile never leaving her face. Or mine. 

I pulled into a spot outside of the apartment building, the same one as I parked at this morning by some chance. I made sure to lock the car, double checking by pulling the handles (you can never be too careful); and followed Wanda into the building. When we arrived at her front door, number 10 written on the front, she started to fumble with her keys. An obvious nervousness making its way into her movements and face.

"You okay princess?" I ask gently, as she stops fumbling and takes a breath to relax herself.

"Yeah I'm just not sure what state I left it in this morning. I was more worried about what I looked like than what my place looked like." She finally finds the right key, opening the door slowly. 

I will tell you the truth...her apartment was...immaculate. I don't know what she was so worried about. Wanda showed me around the small apartment. It was a small open plan design so everything was open and together. You could walk from the living room, to the dining room table and then around the kitchen counter into the kitchen. Through the living room was a small hallway where there were two bedrooms, I assume,  and a bathroom with a shower and toilet. 

The kitchen cupboards were a dark oak colour with a bark like pattern, with silver kitchen items that matched nicely with the wood look. The kitchen table was a black 8 seater with small round chairs that actually looked quite comfortable. She had two couches facing one another both white with matching cushions and a glass coffee table in the middle of the room. The room also had a gas fire place, decorated by a wooden mental and a fake stone chimney the TV hung from the wall above the mental.

"So this is it." Wanda opened up her arms and spun on her heels, trying to get rid of the last of her nerves.

"It's a really nice place you have Wanda." She smiled bashfully, a small blush growing on her cheeks.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah! I mean I love an open plan. The aesthetic of this place is beautiful. It works really well together. I mean it feels like I'm in a cabin in the woods or something and not in the middle of New York." She beams at me.

"That's the sort of look I was going for. I've always wanted to move out into the middle of nowhere and just live my life, but with two boys it's not quite possible. Not till they leave school anyway. Please sit, get comfortable. Can I offer you a drink?" A move to sit on one of the couches, tilting my head back to look at her.

"I will have whatever you're having." 

"Wine it is." She turns on her heels, slightly bouncing as she walks to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She sets them on the small coffee table in front of us, opening the wine with a pop before pouring us a small glass each, handing me mine before getting comfortable on the couch. 

"Do you want to watch some TV?" Once again she seems to have gone all shy, this is very cute.

"Of course. Anything you would recommend?" I push myself back into the corner of the couch, so I can rest my right arm on the arm of the thing and my left one on the back of the cushions. I took my shoes off at the door so I pulled my legs up bending them so they are tucked underneath my body. 

"How about some sitcoms?" 

"Who doesn't love a good sitcom?"

"That's what I'm saying." She laughs out as she grabs the remote to set up the TV show. 

I finish off my glass of wine, leaning forward to place it on the coaster on the coffee table. Wanda offers to refill it but I let her know I only plan on having one, especially if I have to drive home tonight. She goes all quiet for a second before turning to me.

"Why don't you stay tonight?" She looks down at her hands fiddling with her rings.

"Are you sure? I mean I don't have any clothes though." 

"This is going to sound awful, but I have a few of my ex's clothes that I never chucked out in the back of the closet. He is about the same height as you so they should fit. It's nothing major, just a loose shirt and some sweatpants." She shrugs dismissively, still playing with her fingers.

"Guess I can have another glass then." Her head whips up to look at me, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she smiles and nods letting out a small okay before pouring me a fresh glass. 

"I will go get myself changed, then bring out the clothes for you. You can get changed in my room or the bathroom, up to you. I won't be long." She gets up from the couch, but her movements come to a halt. She turns to look at me, then down to my lips so I pucker them up and she leans in to give me a few quick pecks. "I could get used to this." 

"Me too princess. Me too." I let out a sigh of contentment once she leaves the room. I've known her for three days. THREE DAYS! And she already has this hold on me. Now don't go thinking, you're in love with her already, because I'm not...yet. I mean I can see it. There is just this pull, I don't know how to explain it. But whatever is happening between us, I'm not going to stop it from happening. As Wanda disappears into one of the side rooms, my attention is brought down to my phone that goes off a few times. 

Carol: Hey y/n, just checking if you're coming back tonight or not?

C: Also I went to get some spare clothes from your room and saw the picture frame was missing. Did you move it?

C: Don't worry I found it in your draw. Do you want me to put it back on top of your bedside table?

Me: Hey Carol. No, no plans to come home tonight probably in the morning though as Wanda mentioned she had work. As for the picture, you can place it back on the table that would be great. Thank you 😊 

C: She doesn't know, does she?

Me: Of course not, we have known each other for 3 days. No one outside of the situation knows the situation. I mean look what happened with Loki.

C: You will have to tell her at some point.

Me: I know but right now is not that point.

C: Women have a way of finding these things out.

Me: I am a woman so I know. And I know you know I know so no lecturing Me.

C: Just looking out for you.

Me: I know. Thank you. I love you and will see you tomorrow.

C: See you tomorrow sis. LOVE YOU!

I roll my eyes as I silence my phone, turning it face down on the coffee table. Carol is too protective for her own good sometimes. On the other hand, she does bring up some great points. I will figure it out. What I didn't see when I rolled my eyes and huffed at my phone was Wanda re-entering the room. I had my head in my hands rubbing my face gently.

"You okay?" She bent down matching my height, eyes full of concern.

"Yeah sorry. Just my sister being a little too overbearing for her own good." 

"Right....So here are the clothes, don't worry they are clean. The bathrooms, the second door on the right or my room is the first on the left." She grabbed a small pile of clothes placing them in my lap before she fell back onto the couch getting herself comfortable. 

"Thank you. I won't be too long."

"Good because the TV won't watch itself." She grabs her half full glass of wine bringing it to her plump lips before taking a small sip, a smirk playing on her face as I watch every movement.

I shake my head trying to pull myself together. Right getting changed! I make my way down to the second door on the right, pushing it open with one hand the other holding the clothes. I lock the door behind me and start to get undressed. I take my bra off, sliding her ex-husband's top over my body. It should feel weird wearing her ex's clothes but I somehow feel like it gives me power over him or something. Like if I was to meet him it would be like a big 'Fuck you, I'm wearing your clothes sleeping with the woman you should have never let go'. Not that I know what happened between them. Sooo…

At least the man and some form of taste, because the shirt has a print of one of mine and Tony's favourite bands: ACDC for those wondering. I take off my pants, trying to decide whether to keep on my underwear or not; as I unfold the ex's pants a pair of boxers fall out. Okay, so she kept more than just her ex's clothes. Maybe it's in a box he never picked up. I have decided to wear the ex's boxers as well, more power to me. The fucker. The sweatpants were just simple grey ones, the whole of his wardrobe fit me nicely so we must be around the same height. Although the top may be a little tight around my biceps and the boxers, well they are snug around my leg. So he is a skinny man. Haha! I win! What's my prize. Oh right, Wanda!

Once I'm over my small celebration of the nonexistent competition, I turn the tap on running my hand under the water to check it gets to a lukewarm temperature. I bend down bringing my face close to the running water, collecting it in my hands before washing my face of makeup. However, I wince when I catch my temple and eye with my nail and then remember the reason I had make-up on. Well shit. 

Looking in the mirror it's obvious I am not going to be able to hide the black eye, I mean it's blue and purple for god sakes. The cut I was able to hide behind some hair today, but if I'm going to show off the black eye might as well show off the cut which will most definitely scar. Apparently, chick's dig scars though so all will work out in the end. 

Now just to get my story straight do I tell the truth or not. Or do I bend the truth a little. I could just say I tripped and fell because that is practically what happened, apart from the fact I would be missing out on the vital detail that I had a massive panic attack. No I can't say, oh by the way if I have a panic attack make sure I'm not by any kitchen counters, or any counters for that matter. Yeah, right! Like I can control when I have a panic attack.

Right stop over thinking it, and just go out there she is going to be questioning where you've disappeared too soon. Maybe a black hole will open up, swallow me down and I will end up in a different universe that would save a lot of my time. Right Wanda! 

I fold up my clothes, tucking my underwear and bra between my pants and shirt; and tucking the pile under my left arm. I pat down my wet face with the small face towel hanging by the sink, I take a small breath before unlocking the bathroom door. I shuffle my way down the hallway, trying my best to prolong the inevitable. I see Wanda casually laying on the couch but she sits up when she hears me making my way into the room.

The smile on her face falters, turning into a frown as her eyes scan my face. She gets up from the couch removing the clothes from under my arm placing them on the coffee table, then moves her hand to cradle my face holding each of my cheeks. Her thumbs gently rub at my cheeks making sure not to rub too close to my black eye, but her eyes never leave my face. She bites her lip nervously, moving her index finger to trace alongside the cut on my temple then down and around my eye. This is not the reaction I had expected. I expected a thousand questions to be shot my way, not this careful attentiveness. Her eyes follow the movement of her finger, which then comes to a still and her eyes flick back to mine. 

"Are you okay?"

================================

[ifearzombies]

In The Bath

An Asmo X MC one shot (with the Fam joining later)

     “Ahhh... Nothing like a soak in hot water to make the skin even MORE radiant,” Asmo coos as he pulls you close and kisses your head, “Even better when I can enjoy you~.”

    “It is nice... A nice, intimate moment... Just a shame we can’t do this with everyone.”

     “Why everyone? Is the beautiful Asmodeus not enough,” he asks you with a pout.

    “What? Asmo. That’s not what I meant and you know that.” You poke his cheek. “I mean that... Just enjoying a bath, cleaning and preening each other, talking, splashing a bit of water... Just... Like the breakfast we had that Beel and I made.”

     “That was amazing,” Asmo notes, “Plus a family bath would mean getting to see everyone naked~... Ooohhh... I bet Diavolo has the best dilf looking man tiddies... I would love to see them~!”      You snort as you bust out laughing. “Oh pitchforks! Asmo. Don’t ever let Lucifer catch you saying that! So... Family bath... I wonder if we could convert a room into a giant bath for everyone...”      “There are a few rooms not really being used on the lower floor... I wonder if we could ask Lucifer to knock down a wall and just turn it into a large bath. Plus. Having more than ONE in the house for everyone would be nice... While I have my own, I know it’s hard on everyone else.”

     “Let’s finish up here first and then we’ll ask.”

     “Can we make sweet love,” Asmo asks as he begins running his hands over your body.

     “Asmo if we do that, we’re not leaving the tub until tomorrow.”

     “And~?”

     “Not tonight, love.”

     “Poo!” Asmo pouts, but relents and gets back to cleaning every inch of you. You have to admonish him a little for getting too handsy (and expecting you to get handsy as well) before you two finally get cleaned and get dried off.

     You let Asmo put you in cute pajamas and style your hair before you’re allowed to go see Lucifer and you both go to his office. You don’t knock. You just open the door as you know he’s just looking over Mammon’s credit card bills from the sounds of his cursing.

     “Hey Lucifer, my dear,” you ask as you approach, Lucifer looking at the two of you with some annoyance.

     “Out with it. I’m busy.”

     “Lucifer! How dare you talk to our darling like that. Mammon sure. But your gem of a brother and our darling. How dare,” Asmo states firmly.

     “... You’re right. My apologies. What do you two wish to discuss,” Lucifer asks with a softer tone.

     “Sooo... You know how we only have the one main bathroom,” you start, “And how we have like, three study rooms on the first floor that don’t really get used all that much? What if we converted one into another toilet and the big one with the four seater table? What if we convert that into a giant hot tub? Like for family baths. Like our own private onsen?”

     Asmo bounces happily. “Plus then Mammon won’t pay to go to a spa for hot tub stuff. And Beel can use it to relax his muscles after working out. And Levi can fully soak himself. Oh and Satan and Belphie would love it too!”

     Lucifer hums in thought for a moment. “... Another toilet overall would be a good idea. And... you make a good case for the giant hot tub. You’re right that we all study in the living room or dining room anyways... Those rooms are mostly just collecting dust since we all go to our own rooms for privacy... Mammon’s debts need to be cleared first. Then we can budget for it.”      You look to Asmo: “Sexy photo shoot of Asmo and sell the books?”

     “Oooh! We’ll get Solomon to take the pictures! And tasteful nudes only. Only the best for this Gem of the realms!”

     Lucifer sighs. “If it pays this off so we can renovate and it’s JUST pictures of Asmo, I will agree.”

     You and Asmo both squeal in delight and leave to go to Asmo’s room to start planning. You got Solomon in a three way call and explained the plan and he was in.

     It took a few weeks, but soon the debts were paid off and the renovations were done. The room was slightly expanded and it could easily fit everyone.

     You stand there beside Asmo in nothing but a robe. “So... You wanna go in first?”

     “I knew you’d want to see me naked~.” Asmo undresses and gets in, sinking into the hot water. “Ahhh... Perfect!”

     You remove your robe and get in beside Asmo. You lean against him as Beel comes in after.

     “Wow! This is so big,” Beel says as he removes his robe and then gets in, “Oh... This feels so nice on my back.” He practically melts as he moves to sit beside you. “I can fit, stretch out... And it’s nice where my wings are...”

     “Damn. This looks amazing,” Mammon adds as he waltzes in, straight into the water and pouts since he can’t sit next to you. Still, he quickly relaxes. “It’ll make me look extra good for my modeling~.”

     One by one each brother enters and comments on how nice it is. Levi goes to his demon form and curls up at the bottom of the bath, his tail around your ankle. Satan brings a laminated book and a bottle of water. Belphie sits beside Beel so Beel can make sure he doesn’t slip into the water while he sleeps. Lucifer is last to enter, a tray of glasses and bottle of Demonus in hand, and he sinks into the water. You can see the stress melt from his face as he relaxes.

     “Ahhh... This is nice. We can save money by not going to onsens anymore since we can relax here.” He turns and pours everyone a glass and all but Belphie and Levi partake- the former asleep and the latter quite content at the bottom of the bath.

     “We should invite Solomon, Simeon, Diavolo, and Barbatos over at some point,” you say, “I’d love to have baths with them too.”

     “Another time. For now... Let us enjoy this to ourselves,” Lucifer says as he leans and gives you a kiss, “And you and Asmo. Thank you. This was a great idea.”