#Winter Sun Cocktail

[askwhatsforlunch]

Winter Sun

This cocktail, which I've called Winter Sun for its pale, brilliant glow, mirroring a cold day's skies, is a seasonal version of the, bergamot bringing an aromatic roundness to it. It is also easy enough to mix, should you want to serve it to guests at your Holiday parties!

Ingredients (serves 1):

10 ice cubes

half a large, ripe bergamot

60 millilitres/2 fluid ounces (4 tablespoons) good quality London Dry Gin

15 millilitres/½ fluid ounce (1 tablespoon) Honey Syrup 

Fill a shaker with ice. Thoroughly squeeze the juice of the bergamot and pour over the ice. Add Gin and Honey Syrup. Close shaker tightly, and shake energetically for about 45 seconds until well-chilled.

Strain into a coupe glass.

Enjoy Winter Sun  immediately.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we’re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

pt.2

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hey love I absolutely love your fics 🥰 I was wondering if you could write a dark toxic romance for Lando or Charles or even Logan where she’s the girl next door??? I love you keep it up ❤️

Crazy For You || LN4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 4k Part one || part two || part three || part four

It had been two months since you moved into your apartment in Monaco and you still hadn’t managed to introduce yourself to your neighbour. He kept strange hours and seemed to be away more than he was there. From what you had glimpsed, you had been delighted to see he was probably around your age and quite handsome in an innocent way. Mr Riley on the other hand was a stoic old man who only spoke to you when your cat climbed over the balcony and into his space.

Known for its year-round beauty and calm climate, Monaco had welcomed you with a comfortable breeze and enough sun to warrant leaving the house without a jacket, even at dusk on a winter's night. If you had checked the weather reports you would have seen that a storm was quickly blowing in from the coast - arriving by the time you had finished having a few cocktails with your new friends. 

Christmas lights twinkled around the shop fronts as you exited the bar and nutcrackers stood proud in doorways. You always loved Christmas and seeing the smiles it put on children’s faces but there were no children out this late. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Luke asked as he twirled his keys around his finger. “It’s about to start raining.”

“She’s good,” someone answered for you and you looked over to see your elusive neighbour at your side, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back. “I can take her home.”

“You didn’t tell us Lando was picking you up.”

Your mouth was dry and you didn’t know what to say as the liquor, or his presence, left you confused. Lando, you stored that piece of information away and tried to figure out why it sounded so familiar. 

“I was just out doing some Christmas shopping and about to head home,” he said with a smile. “Ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled as you let him guide you away from your friends.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked with a frown. “You don’t look comfortable. Do you even know him?”

“Kind of, I’m just surprised,” you assured him. “Lando is my neighbour.”

“Okay, well, text me when you get home.”

You gave Luke a nod and waved to the others before going your separate ways.

“Are you cold?” Lando asked, already slipping his arms out of the jacket he wore over a dark hoodie. 

The alcohol had made you numb to the temperature but you let him drape it over your shoulders anyway, wrapping you in the decadent scent that came along with it. 

“Thanks.”

“Any time, it’s what neighbours do.”

“I don’t think Mr Riley would,” you teased.

“The grumpy old guy in 4C? We just call him Carl, like the movie Up.”

You smiled awkwardly and toyed with the zip on the jacked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” He pulled you to a stop and grabbed your shoulders with a serious look on his face. “This just won’t do. I cannot be seen with someone who hasn’t watched Up!”

“Oh,” you mumbled as you started to take off his jacket and hand it back. 

“What are you doing, you muppet?” He grabbed the jacket and put it back on your shoulders before opening the door to a very expensive looking car. 

“I thought you meant…”

“It’s fine, I have tinted windows,” he teased. “As soon as we get home though, we’re watching the movie.”

Lando followed you inside without an invitation but you could hardly turn him away with his boyish smile and mop of curly hair that sprung out of his hoodie when he pushed it back. “This makes sense,” he chuckled as he stuck his head in the bedroom, pointing to the wall that your bed was pushed against. “Our apartments are mirrored. I thought I woke up to a voice a few times. Do you watch Friends?”

Your head tilted at the odd question. “Why do you ask?”

“You sing ‘smelly cat’ a lot.”

Mortification hit you and you felt your face burn as you turned to the culprit walking through your house with a loud purr. “That’s Eddie. Do you have any pets?”

“No, I’m always travelling for work and I’m not very good at looking after myself let alone another living thing. Do you actually know how to use those things?”

You looked at the kitchen where he was pointing to the appliances. You had planned to make some Christmas cookies over the weekend and had the stand mixer ready on the benchtop. You thought he was joking but he was genuinely intrigued by the inquisitive look of wonder on his face. “Cooking relaxes me,” you said with a shrug. “You probably have plans already but if you want to come over and-”

“Absolutely, say no more, I’m in.” He crossed the living room and dropped into the middle cushion of the three seater sofa and patted the space beside him with one hand, the other reaching for the remote. “You do have Disney+, right?”

 “You really do like to make yourself comfortable, don’t you,” you joked as you took a seat beside him. 

“I’ve been told I can be a bit much,” he said with a small frown, placing the remote down. “Should I go?”

“No, no, I appreciate the company,” you said as you caught his arm to stop him from going. “Being alone in a new country is a little isolating, it’s nice having someone here.”

He settled back into the seat and sent you a grin as he searched for the movie. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, you can just knock three times.”

The weeks before Christmas were a madhouse. Work kept you busy as well as the many requests to go home for the holidays, but it just wasn’t going to be feasible to take leave so soon after starting. You knew your parents were going to be disappointed but you promised them you weren’t going to be alone for Christmas.

You had eventually found out why Lando’s name was so familiar when Luke explained who he was and why he was away so often. But since the race season was over he had plenty of time to spend at home, yours and his.

Just like every other evening, you knocked three times on the living room wall knowing Lando would be able to hear it despite the special Christmas Eve stream he was on. It was the last one of the year and he wished everyone a Merry Christmas before the live feed of him playing Counter Strike came to an end. 

“Ouch, Eddie, fuck,” Lando swore a few minutes later as he knocked at your door. “Stop it.”

You opened the door to the frequent occurrence and took the hissing Eddie from his outstretched arms before he could get clawed again. Your ginger cat seemed to hate Lando for some reason, or maybe it was because he was always bringing the escapee back home to you.

“I think you should just move in with me,” Lando joked as he followed the mouthwatering scent into your kitchen. He came to your house for dinner most nights after finding Eddie on his balcony and usually stayed for a movie. That routine had changed slightly when the movie he chose one night was Friends With Benefits. There had been a moment after a sex scene when you both looked across at each other and the idea had passed between your eyes. 

He cleared his throat and you realised you had been staring at him for too long. “Eddie likes my place better.”

It clicked, he wasn’t actually asking you to move in with him. But for a moment you had considered it.

“Right, Eddie,” you laughed at your idiocracy. “I really don’t know how he keeps getting out. I must be going crazy because I’m sure I locked the window this morning.”

You both looked at the window that opened onto the balcony, the skies dark with another storm. “Maybe your cat is a genius and learned how to open it?”

You rolled your eyes but managed a laugh at his attempt to make you feel better while you readied two plates and took them to the table where he sat. “Maybe I should change his name to Houdini.”

“Better than Ed the Ginger.” Lando grinned as he pulled you onto his lap and scooped up a dollop of creamy mash potato with his forefinger, holding it up to your mouth. You sealed your lips around his finger and swirled your tongue around the tip, watching the blue of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. “Naughty girl, you’ll be getting coal this year.”

Your head fell back with a laugh.“Who are you? Santa Claus?”

“Well, you are sitting on my lap, aren’t you?” He winked and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Wanna see my North Pole?”

“Oh my god, eat your dinner,” you giggled. “We still have to watch A Christmas Carol and Nightmare Before Christmas!”

You had both written a list of all the Christmas movies you wanted to watch and they were the last two left. It was just in time as midnight was going to come all too soon and you wanted to be tucked up warm in bed when the storm hit.

A loud crash had you jolting awake and you blindly reached across the bed in search of Lando to find it empty. Panic gripped you as you wondered if you were being broken into and a scream almost erupted when your light flipped on and Lando rushed in soaking wet. 

“Holy shit, you’ll never believe what just happened!”

You stumbled into the living room where Lando threw an arm out to save you from stepping on the glass that covered the floor. The doors that opened out onto your balcony had been completely shattered during the storm and you shivered as the cold wind and rain blew straight into your home. A huge puddle was quickly spreading across the carpet and it was making its way to the Christmas tree in the far corner while you were still in shock. 

“The presents!” 

Lando twisted away from the pot plant that had been on your balcony wall, now it lay on the floor with the dirt turning to mud. Seeing the urge you had to cut across the glass, he shook his head and pointed to the kitchen where you would remain safe. “I’ll get them.”

Lando carefully navigated his way to the tree, turning off the power to the glittering lights, and bundled the gifts up before hopping his way back with a wince. The wrapping paper on some of the presents were splattered with rain drops but most seemed in perfect condition when he placed them on the kitchen bench.

“You’re bleeding,” you gasped as he balanced on one foot and you wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Can you make it there?”

He nodded and limped with your help away from the mess. “I think you should come and stay at my place until the doors can be fixed.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out the small sliver of glass in his foot. “I can just get a hotel.”

“Ouch,” he groaned as it came free and blood welled at the site. “Not on Christmas Day, everywhere will be fully booked. I really don’t mind. It would save you from having to pack a bag.”

“If you’re sure…”

He smiled at the silly Spider-Man bandaid you placed over the wound before running the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I am.”

You shivered at his cold touch and remembered how wet he was when you woke up. “What were you doing up anyway?”

He bit his lip and looked away sheepishly. “I was putting a present under the tree when a flower pot blew through the door.”

“Oh, wow, that wind must be insane. I hope all the boats are safe out there,” you mused, knowing some people lived on the mariner. “Wait, you got me another present? Lando, there’s already too many.”

“I wanted to spoil you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “You have single handedly kept me fed for weeks. You may have put a few restaurants out of business too.”

“You weren’t that bad were you?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. After testing his foot he took your hand and led you back to the presents to find a thin box that hadn’t been under the tree when you went to bed. “It’s after midnight, you know, you could open it.”

You took the box, surprised by the weight it had, and untied the pretty bow on top. The delicate silver writing drew a gasp and you looked at Lando with wide eyes. “Tiffany? I can’t open this, it’s too much.”

“Go on,” he urged as he placed your hand on top of the lid and gave it a squeeze. “Please, for me.”

Your fingers slipped twice as you tried to open the hinge and Lando’s hand enveloped yours, lifting it open to reveal the beautiful necklace within. The teardrop gemstone was the same shade as his eyes and it hung from a white gold chain that was polished to shine impossibly bright, even in the dim light. 

“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe as he lifted it up and stepped behind you to drape it around your neck. The weight of the stone settled in the centre of your chest and you turned to face him with a sincere, “Thank you.”

“So..?” He bit his lip as he showed you the empty box, a question written in the silk lining. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

It wasn’t until the week after New Years that a glazier would be able to fix your doors. The holidays had left a backlog of people needing repairs but supply chains had been delayed too. Once the doors were finally fixed you realised the carpet was beyond repair and that took another week to have done.

It was strange to go back home after nearly three weeks of living in Lando’s apartment. It was too quiet.

“Babe, have you seen my hairbrush?” You had looked through the bathroom drawers he had cleared out for you to use but there was nothing left. You went back to your apartment and did another search but it wasn’t there either. It wasn’t the first thing you had lost going back and forth and you were beginning to worry.

“I’m sure it will turn up somewhere, love,” Lando said as he paused his game and turned to his friend in the simulator behind him. “Max probably used it.”

“Did not,” his friend replied with an indignant splutter. “Didn’t I see you singing into a hairbrush?”

“You’ve been experimenting with drugs again,” Lando snorted. With a resigned sigh, you decided your hair was decent enough to get away with at work and Lando tipped his head back so you could give him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll order dinner tonight. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” you said as you gave Max a wave on the way to the door. “Try not to let him sit there all day, you know how his back gets.”

“Yes, yes, Lando has an old man’s back. I’ll make sure he moves his ass at some point,” Max joked. “Have fun at work.”

You screwed up your face at the sarcasm and their laughs followed you out of the apartment. You weren’t sure they had actually moved all day as they were still in the same spots when you got home. You had crossed paths with the delivery man in the lobby and your arms were laden with the takeaway Lando had ordered.

“How many spring rolls did you order?” you murmured as you kept unpacking more and more of the small styrofoam boxes with the treat.

“He’s going for a record,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. Ten minutes later Lando groaned, holding his stomach tightly. “I told you to stop.”

You had quickly showered and changed into some comfortable clothes and found most of the boxes empty when you joined them at the table. “How many has he had?”

“18, and he’s got no chance,” Max bet, reaching over to steal a spring roll for himself and swiping it through the sweet chilli sauce. “You’ll thank me later. Ah, fuck.” Max looked down at the red blotch on his white Quadrant shirt before sauntering off down the hall. “Mate, do you have any more stain remover? This one’s empty.”

“Yeah, under the sink there should be another bottle,” Lando yelled back, dropping his fork onto his plate in defeat. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Why the hell do you have cat food?” Max appeared in the living room with the same brand of pet food you bought for your cat. 

“That’s not mine, obviously.”

You looked at Lando, who was rubbing his full stomach and as reclined back as much as the chair would allow. “It’s not mine.”

“You brought it over during the storm, remember?”

“No I didn’t.” You hadn’t wanted to disrupt Eddie’s routine and fed him at home each morning before work.

“Yes, you did.” He laughed as he tapped your temple gently. “You have a terrible memory, love. You can’t even remember where you left your hairbrush.”

You didn’t have an argument for that, since you still hadn’t found it. You were sure you hadn’t brought any cat food over, but maybe he was right. You did seem to be a little confused lately.

“I think I need an early night,” you admitted as you cleaned up the dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying?” Lando asked with a pout as he joined you at the sink, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppered your neck with soft kisses. “Who am I going to cuddle with?”

“I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind a snuggle,” you teased him as you turned in his arms. “I have an early start tomorrow but I can stay tomorrow night.”

He groaned at the thought of sleeping alone and held you tighter so he could have you in his arms a little longer. “Fine,” he huffed, relinquishing his hold on you and filling the kettle. “I’ll make you a chamomile tea so you sleep better.”

You smiled at his sweetness and savoured a few more minutes of kisses before the water boiled and he scooped out a few spoons of some boutique tea leaf mix he swore was the best sleep tea money could buy. Given how rich he was, you believed him.

Placing the hot mug in your hand, he bit his swollen lip and nodded to the front door. “Go before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he winked. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”

Something disturbed your sleep and you rubbed your eyes as you woke up well before your alarm. You reached for the lamp beside your bed and accidently knocked into the cup of tea you hadn’t finished before falling asleep, the cold liquid sloshing over the side before you caught it and froze. 

Your bedroom door creaked open but it was too dark to see who it was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to think of what to do before the shadow reached the edge of your bed. Your throat was so clogged with fear you couldn’t even scream, your hands trembled and closed them into fists before banging on the wall behind you, begging Lando would wake up at the sound.

Bang, bang, bang.

The figure lunged onto the bed, pinning you down with their weight and slamming your fists into the mattress. “Shh, love, it’s me.”

You relaxed as Lando’s voice soothed you, but the fear soon crept back up your spine with an icy shiver. “How did you get in here?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he whispered as your wrists began to ache from the hold he had. “I was coming to check in on you.”

“No, I didn’t,” you said as you tried to shake him off. “I know I locked it. I know…I…I’m not crazy. Get off me, get off me right now.”

“You were meant to be asleep, love,” he groaned as his hands tightened to the point a pained cry escaped your gritted teeth. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered as he kissed your neck, but you couldn’t feel anything but repulsion. 

“You should have just moved in with me, we are meant to be together.”

“You’re crazy,” you spat as you tried to buck your hips and throw him off but he was too strong. “Help! Somebody, help!”

His hand clamped over your mouth and you bit him as hard as you could before kicking and climbing away. 

“I’m not the crazy one, that’s you, love,” he laughed. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re sick, but I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“You are fucking insane!”

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m trying to help you, remember?” 

You froze in the doorway as you saw a cutout of your key on the kitchen bench, along with your hairbrush, phone, a negligee and dressing gown. All things you had been convinced you had lost in the last few weeks.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeated as you backed away from your boyfriend. He was someone you had trusted, someone you thought had fit perfectly into your new life - but he had been messing with you this whole time. Max and the cat food came to mind. “Eddie…he used to go to Mr Riley’s house.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Lando tutted with a shake of his head as he took a step closer, “not when he was going to help me get close to you.”

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer to me!”

“Baby, don’t be like that, let’s just go back to bed. You’re under a lot of stress, let me make you a chamomile tea.”

You swiped your phone up as you bolted but he was quicker and blocked the front door, holding his hand out. “Give that to me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” you hissed as you started to dial the emergency number.

“It’s you they will take away,” he said with a blase shrug that made you pause. “Everyone knows how unstable you have become.”

“Me?” you shrieked.

“You’re barely holding it together now. They aren’t going to believe anything you say.” He opened his arms as if to say, I’m famous and you are no one. Unfortunately, he was right. “Come on, love, let’s go back to bed.”

He took the phone from your limp hand and locked it before slipping it into his pocket. You were so confused that you had no idea what to do when he guided you back to the bed, turning the sheets down before tucking you in gently. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead and handed you the cold mug. “Drink up, baby, this is all just a bad dream.”

Click here for the next morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He Sees You

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go away for the holidays but you can't escape all the worries you tried to leave at home..

Character: Walter Marshall

Day Seventeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let's go somewhere warm for the winter.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Let's go somewhere warm for the winter 

The sun beams amber over the dulcet ripples. Your room looks down onto the hotel pool in the setting evening, a calming hue soothing your nerves. You haven't felt this close to peaceful in month. No... has it already been a year? 

"So, honey, what do you think about trying the restaurant? I was just looking over the menu. I've never tried mussels," your mother's voice cuts through the din. Another comfort you've longed for. 

"Sure, whatever you want," you face her and sigh.  

It's more than getting away from work and your tiny apartment and the city. It's that foreign feeling. Something you almost forgot. You feel safe. 

"You alright?" She asks with concern. 

"I'm great, mom," you assure her. "Thanks for bringing me." 

"Didn't know what else to do with all that money. You wouldn't believe it, Sheila was so jealous that I won the jackpot at bingo. I would've asked her if she hadn't been such a crabby ass about it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Ah, she always was a pain," she shrugs. "Besides, I miss my baby girl. You're always so busy with work." 

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." 

You look down guiltily. You can't tell her that it's more an excuse these days than the truth. You are busy but not with your job. You're hiding. You don't have to here. It's nice and distant and warm. You can't remember a winter without snow. It's so strange to be hot in December. 

"I'll just change into something... not this," you look down at the sweats you wore on the plane. 

"Wonderful," you mom gives a small clap but concern lingers in the lines of her forehead, "we can wait until tomorrow if you're jetlagged." 

"I'm not. Promise. I want to," you assure her. 

You grab your bag and flip the lid open. You take out some capris and a flora shirt. You go into the bathroom as she searches her purse. You want to make the best of it. It's not often you have this luxury; not only the time off, but the all-inclusive resort. It's amazing.  

And it might be the only escape you get for a while. Or ever. 

You come out as your mom spritzes herself with body spray. She smiles and grabs her wallet, "dinner's on me." 

"Mom," you chide. 

"No, you don't even try. This is my present to you, honey. I want you to enjoy," she goes to the door and looks back at you. "What happened to my little girl and her smiles?" 

Her question pierces your heart. You know but it would break her heart to say it. You force a smile. 

"I'm just grown up and tired," you chuckle dryly. "Come on. I saw something about pineapple sangria." 

"That's my girl," she trills and holds the door for you. 

The restaurant is just as you expect. Tropical in the tourist sort of way. Fake palm trees, colourful glasses, twisty straws with fruit slid onto them. You order a sangria as your mother puts her glasses on and squints at the menu. 

The server brings your drinks and gives you time to peruse the selection. You settle on the carribean prawn cocktail as your mother stirs her spicy margarita. She sits back and looks around. It's good to see her happy too. 

"This is so nice," she preens. "You should come to bingo with me when we get back. If we both win, we could stay twice as long next time." 

She cackles and you laugh too. Genuinely, this time. That weight on your shoulder lessens bit by bit. You slurp down some sangria and let the alcohol sink in. You need this. You need to just forget. To let go. 

You're far from home. No one even knows you're here. Even work thinks you're just puttering around at your apartment, and your friends, the few who still talk to you, are too absorbed in their own holidays. 

You put in your orders and get another round. Your refills come with the food as your mother tells you about Maureen who steals her fliers. You laugh as you remember the rivalry she used to have with the other soccer moms. You were never very good at the sport though. 

"How's your food?" She asks as you pick away at the prawns. 

"Very good. I could eat a whole other platter but I won't." 

"It's a holiday, go on," she chirps. 

"No, no, really. My mind says yes but my stomach would say no way," you shake your head. 

"Hm, we'll need to get a dessert menu then," she grins and looks around for the server. 

He comes and clears your plates. Your mother requests the dessert list and he flits off to his task. He returns with more than the menu. He has another round of drinks in hand. 

"Oh, we didn't--" your mother begins. 

"The gentleman at the bar sent them over." The server puts down the drinks. 

You stiffen as you stare at the pineapple ring hooked over the brim. Your mother cranes to see whoever it is and you shrink down. You're paranoid. Not here. He couldn't be. 

"And the desserts," the server taps the menu before he hands it over. "I recommend the key lime cheesecake or the coconut cream trifle." 

"Oh, thank you." Your mother fawns, "honey, cheers." 

Your mother raises her glass in a gesture towards the bar. You hold your breath and lift your glass, mirroring her. You glance at the bar and nearly drop the drink. You quickly lower your hand and turn to her. She doesn't see your panic. 

"Um, you know what," you set the glass down gingerly as the waiter retreats. "I'm going to find the bathroom." 

You get up and keep your eyes ahead of you. You resist the urge to peek at the bar again. You don’t need another look. You know it’s him, you just can’t fathom how he found you. 

You enter the bathroom and quicky hide in a stall. You sit without intent. You need to think. What do you do? What can you do? You didn’t tell a soul. You wouldn’t even text your mom the details, just in case. Your stomach clenches until you think you might vomit. 

Then another thought brings you to your feet. Your mom. Shit. 

You get up and hurry back out. As you come into the dining room, your eyes move instinctively to the bar. He’s not there. With dread, you look to the table. Your mom’s alone. Thank god. Yet, you know better than to believe he’s gone. 

You join her and reach for the sangria without a thought. You nearly choke on the mouthful as you recall where it came from. You force it down and place the drink on the table. 

“That stranger sure was kind, treating us to a round,” she smiles. “Been a long time since a handsome man bought me a drink.” 

You try to smile but you’re so tense, you can hardly breathe. “So, uh,” you swallow to restrain the tremble in your voice. “What do you want for dessert? The banana pudding sounds good.” 

You look down at the menu, hoping she can’t see the truth. She’s always been smart. She always catches you out. Maybe the drinks are enough to save you. At least, enough to protect her. Ignorance is bliss and you don’t want to ruin the first vacation she’s had in years. 

🌴

Your mother snores in the other bed. You lay awake. Your phone rests on your stomach. You wait for the inevitable buzz. 

You feel weak, so fraught that your bones are heavy. Weary. That’s the word. You’re so tired of running, especially when it only feels like you’re standing still. 

Brrrrr. 

The vibration makes you jolt. You grab at the phone clumsily and raise it to read the message. It’s him. It’s not a surprise. No one hs your number but the woman in the room with you. Or so you thought. 

‘You looked really nice tonight.’ 

You stare. You can’t answer that. You doubt he expects one. No, he’s taunting you. 

‘How’s your mom?’ 

You sit up and hiss. No. No. That’s off-limits. 

‘Leave her alone,’ your thumbs skitter over the keys quickly. 

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then pop up again. 

‘I don’t like talking like this.’ 

You grit your teeth. Fuck off. You want so badly to type it in. Your mother snorts and rolls over. The next message shakes your hands. 

‘Room 3054.’ 

‘Where?’ You text back as seeing your suite number makes you ill. 

‘Bar. Got a cocktail waiting for you.’ 

Checkmate. You’re no good at his game and you’re terrified of him flipping the board. You slide out of bed quietly and wade through the dark. You pull a hoodie on over your camisole, careless of the flowy fabric of your shorts. You step into your sneakers, bending the backs, and shove the room key into your sweater pocket. 

He’s waiting, just like he said. With a beer for himself and another bright yellow drink for you. You near as he tugs at one of his dark curls, combing his fingers through the knot at the base of his skull. He grunts as he looses it and brings his hand back to the bottle. 

You climb up next to him. You ignore the drink. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“I should ask you the same.” 

“It’s none--” you begin and think better of it. “I’m spending time with my mother. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

He grits his teeth and swallows. Walter is a big man. Burly is an understatement. Before, when he was just customer, you compared him to a teddy bear. Now he’s grizzly stalking you through the trees. 

“We were supposed to be together. It’s the holiday. You couldn’t even let me know?” He turns to stare you down with his icy blue eyes. 

Your cheek ticks and your eyes flick to the wall. He scares you. More than anything. 

“I’ve been asking to meet your mom, haven’t I?” 

“Please, why... why do you have to do this?” 

“Why do you have to do this?” He shoots back. “I’m the only reason you’re safe.” 

You shudder and rub your arm. No, he’s the reason you’re scared. He's the reason you can’t sleep. You never asked for any of this. 

You gnaw on your cheeks and shake your head. Your mouth is dry and your chest is empty. The futility keeps you quiet. 

“Your mom seems nice--” 

“No,” you look at him again. “No. She’s my mom. She’s all I have so you don’t-- don’t.” You beg. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but you don’t get near her. You--” 

“You act like I want to hurt her. Why would I do that? She gave me you?” He arches a brow. 

You inhale and lean your elbow on the bar, “Walter.” 

His lashes flick up and his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, “have your drink. We’ll have enough time to go back to my room before she’s up.” 

You stare at him. He turns to the bar and lifts the beer bottle. He drinks casually as you watch. You lower your head as your hands shake over your lap. You reach to turn yourself on the tall stool.  

The mirror behind the bar reflects your fear. His eyes meet yours and you wince. You knew this was too good to be true. You knew that even here wasn’t far enough. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cocktails

"Cocktail," like many words, has evolved over time, broadening its meaning.

While it once indicated a narrow range of drinks—perhaps originally a single drink—it is now customarily used to cover nearly the full range of mixed drinks available in the bars of the world.

Purists may insist that a true cocktail include at least 3 ingredients, two of which are distilled liquor and bitters. Others may argue that any drink mixed on the spot from two or more ingredients, at least one of which is alcoholic, is a cocktail.

The first known references to drinks called cocktails come from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. At that time, alcoholic beverages were largely served in inns and public houses, and weary travelers and thirsty locals would order concoctions.

LONG DRINKS

Also known as tall drinks, are simply drinks in tall glasses with larger amounts of mixer than short drinks.

Some, like highballs, are simple and straightforward; others are complex concoctions.

What they have in common is a relaxed quality, in that they present a relatively low concentration of alcohol and, often, an easy-drinking accessibility.

SHORT DRINKS

A drink served in a tumbler or old-fashioned glass.

Since they contain a higher concentration of alcohol than long drinks, they tend to be built more for slow, deliberate sipping—but there are no hard and fast rules here.

UP DRINKS

The classic image of a cocktail: shaken or stirred with ice and served, almost always strained, in a cocktail glass.

The most elegant of the cocktails, and not only because of their presentation.

Subtle or intense, austere or rich, they tend to have distinct personalities.

SHOTS & SHOOTERS

The most recreational of cocktails.

Despite their popular image, most of them are actually rather low in alcohol; the danger of shots lies in the temptation to drink too many, too quickly. Given how delicious many of them are, that can be all too easy to do.

HOT & FROZEN DRINKS

Hot cocktails have a long history, having been used for centuries to warm chilled travelers and bar customers.

Frozen cocktails are a more recent development, but they offer a bracing kind of refreshment that is perfect for steamy summer evenings.

Some Cocktails

Classic Cocktails

Some drinks have become timeless, iconic libations of cocktail culture:

THE MARTINI Despite a myriad of variations since its first appearance in the nineteenth century, the classic Martini remains the quintessential elegant cocktail: a cool, somewhat austere drink, not showy, but certainly powerful.

THE MANHATTAN The richness and power of whiskey gives the Manhattan slightly rougher edges than the Martini. It gained prominence in the 1930s as one of the five Borough cocktails of New York.

THE OLD FASHIONED Long before Don Draper of Mad Men revived interest in this classic, adding bitters and sugar to whiskey was a mainstay of cocktail culture and one of the most basic drink preparations.

THE DAIQUIRI The classic rum cocktail, the Daiquiri was a favorite of Ernest Hemingway and John F. Kennedy, and has spawned a host of variations.

Seasonal Drinks

Though most cocktails inhabit the perpetual season known as cocktail hour, many capture—or help create—the distinct mood of each quarter of the year.

SPRING & SUMMER Light, refreshing cocktails dominate the spring. Consider such classics as slings, smashes, lemonade drinks, and colorful coolers. Go-to cocktail: a French 75 Summer is, of course, the season for clear and tropical cocktails. Fresh fruit fills the market stands, the sun pours down through long days, and a cold, sweet-and-tart drink is what you crave. While you could always go for a Gin and Tonic, for a bit more personality try one of the great Caribbean drinks—a classic Daiquiri will keep you cool.

FALL & WINTER As Keats put it, autumn is the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” and that vibe is what you’ll want in a cocktail. Deeper, richer drinks come to the fore. Any drink involving apple juice or apple brandy chimes with sentimental visions of autumn. Go-to cocktail: a Sidecar. When winter comes, linger over an Irish Coffee or Hot Toddy; or brace yourself against the cold with a potent whiskey drink—stay toasty warm with an Old Fashioned.

Champagne Cocktails

Occupy a distinct niche in cocktail culture.

At once colorful and elegant, festive and intimate, they lend themselves not only to romantic settings but also to expensive parties.

Source: The Ultimate Cocktail Encyclopedia by Walter Burns More Writing References: Wine-tasting ⚜ Drunkenness ⚜ Drinking

[elryuse]

Yandere mafia rose x male reader who likes to make her jealous

Mafia's Lover

Yandere Mafia Rosé X Male Reader

The world was a blur of red and pain. I remember the cold metal biting into my flesh, the acrid tang of blood filling my senses. A lifetime ago, it seemed. I was a ghost in my own body, a hollow shell drifting through a crimson haze. Then, he appeared. Y/n. An oasis in the desert, a beacon in the storm. His hands, gentle as a summer rain, tended to my wounds. His eyes, filled with a compassion I’d never known, held me together.

In that vulnerability, I found a strength I never knew existed. I clung to him, to the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath. In those stolen moments, love bloomed in my heart, a defiant flower pushing through the concrete of my world. But my world was a harsh mistress. A world of shadows, where loyalty was a chain, and betrayal a death sentence. I couldn’t drag him into that darkness. I had to let him go, even as it tore me apart.

Months turned into an endless winter. The world was a monochrome canvas of gray, devoid of color, devoid of hope. But then, a flicker of life, a spark of defiance ignited within me. I needed to see him, to feel the warmth of his presence once more.

And there he was, my heart aching at the sight. Surrounded by a flock of giggling girls, he was a sun radiating warmth. A sun that should have been mine alone. Rage, a venomous serpent, coiled in my gut. How dare they? How dare they infiltrate my world, my Y/n?

I watched him through the binoculars, a silent voyeur to a scene that was both beautiful and agonizing. His laughter, once a melody reserved for me, was now shared with others. A bitter taste rose in my mouth, a cocktail of jealousy and longing.

I had to have him back. Not just for the love I felt, but for the control, the power it gave me. I was a queen in a kingdom of shadows, and he was my crown jewel.

The next day, I stood at his door, my heart a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The moment he opened the door, my world shifted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw pain that mirrored my own. It was intoxicating.

“I missed you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. But my hands, they spoke a different language. They wrapped around his, a possessive claim. His wince was music to my ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice low, a purr of menace.

His eyes, wide with fear, were exactly what I wanted. He was trapped, a bird caught in my web.

“Those girls don’t deserve you,” I hissed, my voice laced with venom. “All you need is me. And only me.”

With a decisive pull, I dragged him inside, closing the door on the world. We were alone, two souls caught in a tempestuous dance of love, obsession, and control.

His fear was a sweet nectar, fueling my desire. He was mine now, completely and utterly. I would mold him, shape him into the perfect reflection of my desires. The world outside could wait. This was our moment, our world. A world of two.

I ran my fingers through his hair, the softness a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. His eyes held a mixture of fear and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. It intrigued me.

"Remember when I was weak, and you were my strength?" I asked, my voice soft, almost seductive. His eyes flickered, a silent acknowledgement. "I gave you everything, Y/n. My trust, my love, even a part of myself."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "And what did I get in return? Betrayal."

His lips parted to speak, but I silenced him with a gesture.

"Don't," I warned. "Your words are meaningless now."

I leaned in close, my breath warm against his skin. "Now, it's my turn to shape our destiny."

I could feel his fear, a delicious tremor running through him. It was intoxicating. I wanted to break him, to rebuild him in my image. And then, I would possess him completely. Body and soul.

I smiled, a predator's grin. The game had just begun.

A week had passed since I dragged him into this gilded cage I called home. In those seven days, I had transformed from the predator to the caretaker. I cooked, I cleaned, I tended to his every need. I had become the woman I had always pretended to be, the one I thought he wanted. And to my surprise, he seemed to be thawing.

The fear in his eyes had gradually been replaced by a hesitant trust. His body, once tense and rigid, now relaxed under my touch. It was a slow, insidious process, but I was patient. He was mine to keep, and I would ensure it.

I watched him sleep, his face serene in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There was a vulnerability in his slumber that made my heart ache with a strange tenderness. This was the man who had saved me, the man who had ignited a fire within my soul. And now, he was mine.

Morning brought with it a new routine. I would wake him with soft kisses, the scent of coffee and toast filling the air. His sleepy smile was a reward I craved. We would spend the mornings together, lazy and intimate. I would read to him, my voice a soothing melody that seemed to calm his spirit.

In the afternoons, I would teach him about the world beyond his sheltered existence. He was fascinated by the stories of my life, the danger, the thrill. I painted a picture of a world that was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he listened with rapt attention.

As the days turned into a week, I began to see a change in him. The fear was fading, replaced by a quiet strength. He was learning to rely on me, to trust me. And in that trust, I found a love I never knew existed.

One evening, as we sat by the fireplace, I took his hand in mine. "You are safe here, Y/n," I whispered, my voice soft as velvet. "No one can hurt you."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion I couldn't fathom. "I know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

I leaned in, our lips brushing together. It was a tentative kiss, filled with unspoken promises. When we pulled apart, I could feel the shift, a seismic change in the dynamics between us. He was no longer the terrified victim. He was becoming my equal.

My world, once a monochromatic canvas of black and white, was now painted with a thousand hues. There was still the darkness, the undercurrent of my past, but it was no longer the dominant force. Love, a foreign concept, was now a vibrant part of my life.

Time passed, and I managed to extricate myself from the underworld. The life of a mafia boss was not one I wanted anymore. I wanted a quiet life, a simple life, with Y/n by my side.

We opened a small cafe, a sanctuary away from the chaos of the world. It was a world away from the life I had once known. But in this new reality, I found a happiness I never thought possible.

Y/n thrived in his new role. He was a natural with people, his smile a beacon of warmth. And as always, he attracted attention. Young girls would flock to the cafe, their eyes sparkling with admiration. I watched him interact with them, the same warmth and kindness he had shown me.

A pang of jealousy would sometimes strike, a ghost of my past self. But then he would catch my eye, and with a playful wink, he would send the jealousy packing. I would smile, a mixture of love and amusement.

One evening, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the cafe, I found myself watching him. He was laughing with a group of young customers, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a remnant of my past life.

I walked over to him, my arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He turned, his smile widening. "Jealous, my love?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Maybe a little," I admitted.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "You're mine, remember?" he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I turned in his arms, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. As we pulled apart, I looked into his eyes, seeing the love and adoration reflected there. I was home.

Days turned into weeks, months, and years. Our love deepened, a rich tapestry woven with threads of passion, trust, and companionship. The cafe became more than just a place of business; it was our sanctuary, a testament to our love story.

And as I watched the world change around us, one thing remained constant: my love for Y/n. He was my everything, my beginning and my end. And in the quiet moments, as we sat together in the warmth of our cafe, I knew I had found my happily ever after.

The end.

[joelalorian]

Wonder in Winterland - Part I

Hallmark!Joel Miller x f!reader | wc: 2790 | masterlist

Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie. Will post on Sundays throughout December.

Dividers courtesy of saradika-graphics. This magical moodboard is all thanks to @brittmb115!

Part I

A thousand miles from nowhere, you grew weary of driving despite the scenic view of snow-dusted evergreens looming like sentinels along the barren stretch of highway. The old pickup your dad left you ate up the miles like an asphalt sandwich, its engine rumbling almost louder than the outdated radio as it struggled to stay tuned to the local stations. The scent of pine mixed with motor oil hung in the cab, a reminder of just how old the truck was and the amount of time you spent trapped in it so far.

If not for the irrational fear of flying, you’d already be in San Francisco, enjoying a cocktail at Pier 39, watching the sea lions as you killed time before your long-time client’s wedding.

Instead, you were twenty-seven hours into the cross-country trek with too many hours left to go and you had to pee so bad you could practically taste it. Shifting uncomfortably, you casted a glance at the towering mountains lining the valley, the sun fighting to peek through the lingering fog as it rose above the peaks. When traffic ground to a halt, a frustrated groan slipped past your lips, and you threw the transmission into park.

Popping the door open with a loud creak, you took the unexpected break as a sign to stretch your legs. The brisk air outside bit at your skin when you stepped out, breath forming small clouds that disappeared into the winter wind. You weaved between cars to the soundtrack of beeping horns and impatient shouts until coming upon the cause of the delay.

A trailer full of Christmas trees sat partially overturned, half its cargo scattered across the highway like some messed up holiday party. Among the chaos stood a man – tall, broad, and clad in a thick, well-worn flannel jacket that looked as rugged as the mountains behind him. The breeze caught his dark curls, tossing them across his forehead as he worked to pile the fallen trees back onto the trailer. Wholly unbothered by the flustered drivers glaring and honking at him, the man worked with steady, unrushed focus.

“Need any help?” you called out, slipping on a pair of leather gloves as you approached.

The man’s head snapped toward you at the sound of your voice, and he paused, brow loosening and a small smile pulling at his lips as warm brown eyes drank you in with a curious, amused glint. “I’d hate to ruin your pretty little outfit, darlin’.”

Your eyebrow arched. A playful smiled tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, snow crunching under your heeled boots. “You think my outfit’s pretty?”

His expression faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I think you’re pretty. The outfit’s just window dressing.” His grin widened as he added, “I’m Joel, by the way.”

Your laugh bubbled out, light and unexpected, cutting through the cold rhythmically. Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his cheeks tinged pink – not from the chill, but from something else entirely. Just as your gloved hands were about to clasp in a handshake, some asshole laid on his horn with a shout.

“Can you two get a room or something? Some of us have somewhere important to be!”

Turning to glare at the offender, you opened your mouth and the New Jersey in you came flying out. “Can it, dick cheese! Get off your fat ass and help if you’re in that much of a hurry!”

A bark of laughter drew your attention back to Joel as he shook his head in merry disbelief before going back to moving the trees. This time, you didn’t ask if he wanted help and bent to grab one of the smaller trees to lug it toward the trailer. The cold bit at your cheeks, breaking through your coat that was clearly more for style than warmth. The fresh scent of pine filled your lungs, as you hefted the tree back to the trailer.

Joel stood a few paces away with a larger tree slung over his broad shoulder, watching with an amused tilt of his head as you struggled past him.

“Aw come on, doll. You don’t have to do that.” His voice held a soft, almost pleading quality, but hidden behind that was a flicker of admiration as you ignored him and carried on despite the struggle. His expression shifted – half a smirk, half something deeper – as you hefted the tree onto the trailer and turned to fetch yet another one.

The pair of you continued working, Joel’s eyes flicking toward you now and then, lingering a little longer than they should. Around you, the chaos of impatient honking and shouts became nothing more than white noise.

A few others – including the mouthy asshole from earlier – seemed to get the hint that the roadway would clear quicker if they helped and within ten minutes, two of the travel lines were clear and traffic started to flow once again.

“Thanks for your help. You should probably get going, you look like you’re freezing,” Joel said as the last tree landed on the trailer and he pulled the tie down straps taut. “I’m gonna be here a while waiting for the tow truck. Can’t fix the trailer without some equipment.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Joel.” You shook Joel’s hand again, the heat from him worming its way through the material of your gloves, curling around you like the heat from a distant fire.

“You, too, darlin’.”

You hesitated, staring at each other for several long moments, not wanting to leave but you didn’t have a good enough excuse to stay. Flashing one last charming smile, you waved and sauntered back to your truck, which sat alone in the still blocked third lane.

The moment your truck refused to start, panic set in, swirling like winter wind in your chest. You hopped out again, popping the hood with more frustration than sense. Steam wafted from the still warm engine in thin, mocking wisps as you stared at the confusing labyrinth of parts comprising the engine compartment, entirely clueless. The frigid air nipped at your fingers and numbed your toes – why didn’t you dress appropriately knowing you’d be driving through a winter wonderland for half the journey.

The crunch of boots over the mix of ice and gravel sounded behind you, causing a shiver to wander down your spine. “I believe it’s my turn to offer a hand,” Joel said, his voice a deep rumble, sending a ripple of something straight to your core. When you turned, he was closer than you expected, his warm brown eyes softening as he took in your helpless shrug. “Let me take a look.”

He leaned over the engine, his broad and calloused hands moving deftly as though coaxing the old truck into cooperation. You caught yourself staring at the way his jaw clenched in concentration, the salt and pepper scruff along his jaw catching the light when he titled his head. Each frustrated grunt from him made your stomach flip, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. Your thoughts began wandering in a certain direction as you eyed the breadth of him…

After a few fruitless minutes, Joel straightened, wiping his palms along the dark denim covering his legs before running one hand through his dark curls. The movement left his hair deliciously mussed, and you ached to run your own fingers through it.

“Can’t do much out here in the cold. Jimmy’s got the tools and parts we’d need back at his garage. Lemme just call him to give ‘em the heads up he’ll need to tow it back.”

As he spoke into his phone, explaining your plight to Jimmy, you realized how much you appreciated the way he said your name, drawing it out like something worth savoring. The way he stood close, his shoulders hunched slightly, broad body breaking the wind to protect you from the cold as much as he could, didn’t go unnoticed either.

“He’ll be here in a few,” Joel said once the call ended. “You can wait in my truck if you’re cold. I’ll give you a lift into town after.” Joel led you toward the shiny black four by four parked half on the shoulder, opening the door for you like a true country gentleman. Holding out a hand, he helped you climb up into the passenger seat as the sound of large tires on the rumble strip sounded behind you. “Up you get. That’ll be Jimmy. Feel free to start ‘er up and put the heat on. We’ll be done in no time.”

Your hands grasped the ring of keys and immediately stuck the right one into the ignition. The truck growled to life with a simple turn of your wrist and heat poured from the vents, carrying the heady scent of fresh-cut trees and sandalwood through the cab – his scent, you realized, and it was unexpectedly comforting. You adjusted in the seat, your fingers brushing over the fabric of a thick Carhart jacket slung over the headrest, as the warmth of the truck seemed to seep into your very core.

You had just pulled the jacket off the seat to wrap around yourself when Joel opened the driver-side door and climbed in, his movements fluid and unhurried. He glanced your way as he settled into the seat, the corners of his lips twitching upward when he noticed you bobbing your head along to Bing Crosby crooning over the radio.

“That was quick!” you exclaimed.

Joel’s chuckle was low and intimate. “Just needed the right leverage,” he said, resting his hands briefly on the heated steering wheel. His large, strong fingers flexed as though testing their strength after the labor. “Jimmy’s hooking up your truck now. He’ll be right behind us.”

You nodded, gaze drifting to his profile to drink in the sharp lines of his jaw and the pink tinge on his cheeks. Snow started falling outside as Joel shifted the truck into gear and began driving. As he steered the large truck down the highway, you caught a faint, amused glint in his eyes when he asked, “So, road-tripping for the holidays?”

The pair of you made easy conversation as he drove. You told him about your travel plans, and he told you about his farm. The miles passed in a blur before he signaled to take the next exit.

“Winterland?” you whispered upon seeing the welcome sign indicating the town’s name, the word slipping past your lips in wonder.

The small town of Winterland was like stepping into a Christmas card come to life. Lights twinkled on every storefront, reflections dancing off the snow-covered sidewalks. Wreaths adorned old gas-style lampposts, and the faint sound of holiday music drifted through the air from scattered outdoor speakers. Joel slowed the truck as he drove down Main Street, and you leaned closer to the window, the scene outside stealing your breath.

Joel glanced at you, warmth lighting his expression as he watched your awe unfold. “It grows on you,” he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the hum of the engine.

“You have got to be kidding me!” The urge to stomp your foot like a child nearly impossible to fight, you settled for a frustrated huff instead. “Nearly a week? Really?”

Jimmy the tow truck driver slash mechanic slash owner of the only gas station in town shrugged regretfully, one hand placed on the paunch pulling taut on his coveralls, the other stuck in his pocket. “Between the holidays and the weather, that’s the best my supplier could do. Parts for old trucks like that aren’t common, hon.”

“Can’t you order the parts from Amazon or something? They have two-day delivery!”

“Sorry, ma’am. I checked already and they’d have the same problems delivering the parts. That’s the downfall of small mountain towns, unfortunately, and it doesn’t get much smaller than Winterland.” Jimmy tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace on his grizzled face.

“Damn. Thanks for trying, Jimmy. I know you’re doing your best and I appreciate it.” Bumping your fist against the counter twice, you spun on your heels to leave only to turn back around. “Uh, is there like an inn or hotel or something nearby? I’m going to need a place to stay if the truck is going to take a week to fix.”

“That we do. The Millers run a small bed and breakfast down the road. It’s the only one in town. I’ll give you a ride in a minute.”

You waved him off. “That’s ok, I’ll just walk. It’ll give me the chance to take in the town.”

Jimmy eyed you doubtfully, questioning your clothing and footwear, which were clearly not suitable for the winter weather in the mountains. “If you say so, doll. You know it’s still snowing out, right?”

Five minutes later, you regretted brushing off Jimmy’s offer of a ride. Between the salt on the sidewalks, the falling snow, and the biting gusts of wind, dragging your rolling suitcase while trying to keep warm was a huge pain in the ass. That and you swore your toes were nothing more than little ice cubes attached to your feet.

When you finally reached the bed and breakfast, cleverly named the Evergreen House at Winterland, the scent of cinnamon and fresh-cut pine greeted you like an old friend. The cozy warmth of the lobby wrapped around you, the crackling fire in the hearth casting dancing shadows on the walls that mesmerized you.

Everything about this town, including its buildings and people, reminded you of Christmas. What was it like in the summer, you wondered.

“Hi there,” a friendly voice greeted you from down the hall and you glanced up to find a beautiful, dark-skinned woman walking toward you. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a thick ivory sweater, feet clad in fuzzy slippers, your own chilled, damp body quaked with jealousy over how comfortable and warm she looked. “You must be the new guest Jimmy told me to expect. I’m Maria.”

Replying with your name and a smile, you added, “I hope you have a room for me? I’m at a loss for where else to look if not.”

“Of course! We have the best room for you and plenty of food and drink to keep you sustained for as long as you need. What brings you to town?”

Maria led you up the rounded stairway as you shared the story of driving across the country and the old truck refusing to start after a delay on the highway. You spared her the details, though. She stopped in front of dark wooden door, a hand-carved sign on it reading “Blue Spruce”, and opened it to reveal a cozy sitting area and a large bed. “This is your room. We named all the rooms after Christmas trees. It was my husband’s idea – his brother owns the tree farm on the outskirts of town.”

Putting the pieces together, you asked, “Your husband is Joel’s brother?”

“You know Joel?” Maria inquired, brows arching curiously. She seemed delighted by that fact, judging by the smile slowly spreading across her lips.

“Well, yeah, I met him out on the highway. He’s the reason for the traffic jam and why I ended up here in Winterland rather than stranded somewhere else along the road.”

“Well, isn’t that serendipitous!” Maria replied with a clap of her hands. “Joel and Sarah are coming for dinner tonight. You’ll join us, of course.”

Maria’s excitement was infectious, and you smiled in return. You couldn’t help but wonder who Sarah was – a girlfriend or wife, probably, as your luck tended to go – and if Joel’s reaction to your unexpected reunion would be as enthusiastic as hers. Maria left you to get settled in and rest for a bit before dinner. You changed into something more comfortable for napping and barely laid down before something scratched at the door with a low whine.

“What in the world?” you murmured as you shuffled toward the door. A golden retriever sat waiting for you, tongue lolling and a Santa-themed bandana around its neck. “Well, hello there. Who might you be?”

The dog trotted right past you like he owned the place, and you spotted the name Barkley printed on the bandana as he went by. “Barkley, huh? The Miller family really went all in on the Christmas tree charm, didn’t they?”

Barkley jumped on the bed and whined, clearly begging you to let him nap there. Giggling softly, you shut the door and climbed back under the covers, falling asleep with Barkley snuggled right up to your side like your own personal radiator.

tbc

[kermit-coded]

I Loved You Like The Sun

acknowledgements by danez smith // the authority (1999) // hysterics of love by eric fischl // come the slumberless to the land of nod by traci brimhall // the authority (1999) // grief lessons: four plays by euripides // the authority (2003) // wayward son by rainbow rowell // the authority (2003) // in love with you by kenneth koch // the authority (2003) // denis sarazhin // long story short by taylor swift // wildstorm winter special (2005) // a hunger like no other by sk osborn // the authority: revolution (2003) // vigil by clementine von radics // the authority: revolution (2003) // a crash course in molotov cocktails by halyna kruk // the authority: revolution (2003) // unknown // the authority (2008) // eden robinson // the authority (2008) // diary of anaïs nin // the authority (2008) // it will come back by hozier // the authority (2008) // unknown

[plspush]

Caleb loves everything Halloween, that much is very well known. A lesser known fact is that he has a deep fondness for Christmas. Maybe it's the obvious connection between the two holidays, or maybe it's because most of his wardrobe is cozy and/or winter coded. It's mid November and the wind has begun whipping icily through the primarily bare trees, the sun departs at 5pm, and Caleb's due in just a few short weeks. He knows there's no way he's making it to Christmas with his bun still in the oven. He already feels heavy and sore - practice contractions have been making unwelcome appearances the last couple of days. He knows he has to get all of his December activities out of the way now. He can't go get festive cocktails with Aiden and their friends - he'd feel so bummed to just sit at the bar, uncomfy and so, so pregnant, no fun bevvy in hand - so he and the crew are instead opting to hit up the holiday markets, which luckily opened up at the start start of the month. Jax has taken to protecting the precious bump from the crowds, Maiya has been scoping out all the cute holiday baby merch, and Aiden has been tasked with finding Caleb a hot chocolate that can give him the same vibe as the strong, black, caffeinated hot coffee he's been craving his whole pregnancy. A pretty tall order he isn't sure he can fill. Caleb has been taking in his last few moments with this big round belly, and the last days of the group headcount being four. He smells gingerbread and coffee and hot apple cider, he hears his friends’ laughter among the sleigh bells, and he feels completely full and content for maybe the first time ever. His found family is just so close to becoming a full-fledged family. Maybe pulling through his rough start at life was worth it after all. He’s scared; he had never anticipated becoming a parent, much less giving birth himself. The way his people came through for him though, supported him, made him feel capable. The fact that he has three people willing to do all the Christmas stuff a month early and drag his sore, round, pregnant self around while trying to make everything nice for him and everything go his way… It’s just more than he could have asked for. He’s feeling a solid future ahead of him, when just a few years ago he believed he’d be better off not in this world. He feels community. He /found/ a non-caffeinated, strong hot chocolate that gives him coffee vibes, and it even has sprinkles. He’s okay.

[headphonegrl]

“Here you go.” It’s late in the morning on a Sunday, and the sun is pouring through the window, casting honey-coloured light all over the living room. Jude’s half-asleep with his cheek squished against the cushion his mum bought him for a housewarming present, and the sudden sound of your voice startles him into full consciousness; all he’s heard for the last hour is the lull of characters speaking on the show he’s watching and that cheesy laugh track played on all nineties sitcoms alike. 

“What?” His words are half verbal and half a content hum through his nose. One of his eyes is closed and the other is squinting, trying to make out where you’re sitting in front of his coffee table with your legs tucked under yourself.  

“Put your arm out.” You shuffle towards him, your fuzzy socks gliding against the wooden floor. Months have passed of you trying to convince him to buy a rug, but still the space remains bare and shiny due to his indecisiveness. 

Jude pokes his arm out from between the blankets he’s had bunched up by his chin. Despite the sky outside being a stretch of clear baby blue, he’s dramatically complained all morning about his risk of getting hypothermia. There’s a mug of tea on the floor next to the foot of the sofa which you had made him earlier, and it sits there lukewarm because he’s afraid that once he moves all the heat will escape in one go. “It’s cold.”

“Here.” You stretch a bracelet over the back of his hand and onto his wrist; tiny blue and green beads placed perfectly in patterns of three, with a little yellow heart that you fiddle with so it sits flat against his skin. Goosebumps appear on his forearm and you try and rub them away with your palms, which are still warm from the little hot water bottle you’ve had sitting in your lap, the one Jude’s grandma had bought you for Christmas.

“You made it?” His voice is still hoarse from rest and he tries to clear his throat with a little cough, and then another when that one fails. Part of him is mad at himself now, he’s had his eyes shut all this time and missed the image of you adorably poking your tongue out in concentration. 

“It’s stupid.” You scrunch your nose up, murmuring something about how you made some over cocktails with your friends one night and bought a kit for yourself because you thought it was fun. A little patch of golden light is illuminating one side of your face and if his phone wasn’t sitting in the other room on his bedside table, Jude would be a very annoying boyfriend and insist on taking a photo. 

“No way.” The idea of you being paired with the word ‘stupid’ seems completely morally wrong, like two things that shouldn't exist in the same universe. It’s a firm belief of his that you should only be associated with all things sweet and kind, like old fifties love songs with trumpets in the back or those little flowers that appear at the beginning of spring after an awful winter.

“You don’t have to wear it.” You twiddle the beads around on the stretchy elastic, before moving your fingertips to trace the lines on his palms; the same thing you do when you’re sitting next to each other at dinner or on the train. “You can take it off later.”

“I’m not taking it off!” Jude snatches his hand away from where you’ve been holding it, and you let out a wheeze of laughter that sends a fuzzy rush of love to his heart. A feeling that he wishes he could catch mid-air and bottle up for when he’s far away and misses you so much that his chest aches like he’s pulled a muscle. 

“Okay.” You smile down at where you’re picking at a loose thread on the blanket, curling it around your finger over and over again. “If you’re sure.”

“Are you kidding?” To him, you must be. It’s already been decided: He’ll wear it to sleep and in the shower. He’ll tuck it under his sleeve so he doesn’t have to take it off during training. It’ll hang on his hook in the changing rooms during a big game like a little good luck charm. If it slides above his wrist, he’ll search frantically under the hem of his sleeves in fear he’s lost it. He’ll wear it even when all the colour rubs off the beads and they’re left white. He’ll keep it until it inevitably snaps and you have to make a new one, exactly the same. “It’s my most prized possession.”

[katsukikitten]

A zombie apocalypse au for @medusashima collab! Find the collab master list HERE! Be sure to give the others a read too!

Warning: graphic, violent, and sexual content intended for adults 18 or older.

Synopsis: Shelter isn't hard to come by in the End but good, untouched, shelter is. When you find paradise in the middle of a dead field in the shape of a 900 square foot home you start to break a few of your important rules. Always keep moving and don't help anyone. Especially if that anyone is a hot headed blonde bounty hunter sent to settle score you'd rather forget.

Peachy Keen Master List

Chapter One - Never overstay your welcome, keep moving

Winter

It scares you at first, the mummified body facing the door in the cramped living room of the home you found tucked away in a field of corn long past it's harvest. 

Petrified you, like the farmers that sat facing one another. In wooden rocking chairs, gnarled fingers slack around the handles. Coming closer to inspect and seeing no signs of teeth marks or infection. Letting loose the held breath you kept as deft eyes looked over every liver spot and wrinkle in the leathery skin. No fluid on the hardwood floors beneath their rocking chair or in the blankets around their shoulders. 

And by some miracle, the cold, the house didn't smell like rot. 

You figure they must have died earlier this winter, it lasted damn near since October as the Earth naturally cooled in the fall of the human race. 

With critical climate change hitting irreversible levels and long lasting damaging effects in just a few short decades, Mother Nature took matters into her own hands. Doing what she does best. 

She evolves, she changes and grows, makes a deadly cocktail of pathogens and fungi that rids her realm of blight. 

Humans. 

You were just surprised a nuclear war didn't wipe humanity off the map first. 

You hadn't meant to live this long, six whole years in the apocalypse, honestly you were one of the many who'd rather take their own lives. Least then you had a say in how and when you went. 

But the body has a funny way of forcing you to survive. To dissociate in some feeble attempt to keep the body going for an organ that tortured itself daily with endless, grueling tasks and for what? 

So you could experience your first kill? Watch your friends and family die when the Feds bombed cities instead of trying to quarantine sections? Of you walking until your feet bled, fleeing the city just to live in the outskirts to hear the screaming and wails as the undead met the living? Tied to a tree limb with your worn belt to sleep or maybe it was so you could loot the dead man for his tent but not without putting a bullet between his eyes as a parting gift first. 

No longer does Grim accept the coins laid upon the eyes of the dead. Now payment for a safe travel down the river Styx is paid with the bullet lodged into the third eye of the deceased.

A tradition sure to be passed down to the generations to come.

Despite the rage you've aimed at yourself for still living, the home was a welcoming sight. The old farm house made of gray cinder block, stout in the field of the tall stalks that you yearned to see each sweltering summer when you were stuck in the city before the world went to shit.

Now the sight of the dried crop makes the nostalgia coat your tongue thickly, like the bitterant of a large pill.  

You think you choke when you swallow. 

Still even with the two harmless corpses it was an amazing find. The shingles of the roof are all in tack and the old wood stove holds the reminiscence of a charred log and ashes. 

Logs lining either side that would last through the winter and then more still kept under an open awning out back. Plenty of birch wood to burn white smoke making you sigh in relief. 

First things first and with the few hours of sun you had left you needed to get to work burying the couple. Half debating over taking their rings that were about to fall off before thinking better of it. 

Grabbing the shovel from the makeshift shed and going to the edge of the corn field out back. Only you were stubborn, stupid enough to fight the frozen ground as you shoved the sharp spade into the Earth. Moving it to your will as sweat collects on the inside of your thermal undershirt making it stick to your back and the nape of your neck uncomfortably. 

Your calloused hands protect you from the biting wood as you spend the better part of your day light going six feet down. Using the height of the shovel as a measuring stick.

I wonder if their kids and grandkids will visit. I'll have to make a good marker so they won't miss it. 

And then it hits you. The realization of what you're thinking. Fat droplets blurring your vision as you chide yourself over wasting quickly dwindling time. 

You hadn't even cried when you watched your friends being torn apart from the force of the bomb but here you were crying over two strangers and their imaginary family.

Except they weren't imaginary were they? They were hung neatly throughout the home. 

Ya know the multi generational home that you planned to squat in. The one with the warped photos in warm senpia of when the family first arrived and built the modest country home to the vibrant color photo of the grandparents smiling ear to ear as their kids and their kids' kids stood on the still sturdy porch with corn cobs in their small hands. 

Another sob racks through your body forcing you to take a break from carving out your last foot hold so you could climb out of the grave you'd just dug.  

Should you start digging your own now too? 

Since no one else was going to be around to do it. 

Once you're back in the house you try to think of the logistics of bringing the pair out. You start with the wife, taking her delicately preserved body with the blanket around her shoulders. 

"’Xcuse me." You murmur to her as you lift her up, surprisingly light compared to the other corpses you've carried or moved. Careful to avoid banging her up against the door jamb accidentally before you make it out the few yards to the edge of their little property. 

Easing her down into the hole using the long and strong quilt that she must have made until you could slip it from beneath her to bring the fabric back up. 

"Sorry." Another involuntary pleasantry as you scoop the husband and his quilt up. Repeating the same action until he rested beside her as much as he could be. Dropping the first and second quilt over them as if tucking them in. You just hoped they wanted their holy matrimony to be reflected in the after life as well. 

Rooting around in your pocket for the few spare ammo you've got left. 

"For the toll." You murmur dropping a bullet each before tackling the grueling task of shoveling dirt back into the hole you half killed yourself to dig. Returning to the house only to place their wooden rocking chairs at the foot of their grave before heading inside for the night. 

Telling yourself not to look for their names, refusing to and that the wooden rocking chairs would have been enough. 

But it gnaws at you as you move around their furniture to better suit you, as the old wood stove fills the home with a warmth, with a luxury, you've long since forgotten.

Knowing full well she would have been the type of woman to have a farmer's log. 

A handwritten one or a more accurate family log written in the old bible that sat on her night stand. 

You left it alone, thankful they hadn't died in their queen sized bed as you moved it into the living room frame and all. 

The moon shining bright over head, peering in through the kitchen window over the sink as if to check on you. To see if you were still awake. 

And of course you were, when was the last time you've ever had a restful sleep? 

Your mind back to the "holy book" specifically the one with the worn leather and cracked spine. Even to the end the wife was a woman of faith, a bible open on the coffee table that you quickly used for kindling. 

Because what has God ever done for you?

He sure as fuck wasn't as merciless as he claimed to be.

Although he'd given her and her husband an easy enough death hadn't he? 

You were sure the rest of her family didn't meet the same gentle fate. 

In the end there was only one true God and that was Death. 

Ever waiting and watching, coming to steal you away before you could even blink with nothing to show you ever existed at all save for your own headstone, least til that crumbled away.

You jolt out of bed, rushing towards the book as if it whispered your name all this time and now it was shouting. 

Screaming, demanding your undivided attention until you flip open the front cover. Old cursive greets you as the pages sigh, rolling over birth and death dates until you're forced to flip to the back, finding the first two names without death dates but plausible birth dates that would line up to their age and the End. Slamming the generations old book as you rise. 

Finding yourself outside, bare foot. Knife in your hand and your breaths coming out in ragged puffs. 

Scrapping along the tops of the wooden rocking chairs like a woman possessed, carefully carving the letters into the headrest of the rocking chairs.

Stepping back in a fever to admire your work, feet numb from the biting cold ground before you turn on your heel. 

They echo back to you as if you'd carved each curving letter into your psyche instead of the smooth stained grain. Unsure if the haunting was that of thanks or scorn and you were sure a poltergeist was the least of your concern.

Even as you drift the names burn your retinas as if to remind you whose home you spent the night in. 

ASTRID     EMROY 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning you find yourself trapped in the house by deep snow so you poke around the home. Rearranging some things here and there but not to disturb the personal belongings just yet. 

Even though you know you won't stay long, never breaking one of your many rules that lead you to survive this long. But why not disturbing their belongs matters to you, you aren't sure. 

Maybe it's the way that this home is untouched. Truly loved and lived in, while the other houses you've squatted in were long since looted. Ransacked and trashed, taken back by the unforgiving weather and those desperate enough to defile what was once someone's home.

For others, their Hell within four walls and maybe the big End meant nothing to them anyway. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't one of the many who rooted through homes and hissed when you found nothing of use, just fading photographs and old DVDs and CDs. Shit that didn't matter now.

Right now you were mostly looking for a good pen with a plan to roughly guess the year so you could add the rough date beside their names and put their bible up somewhere. As if compelled to end their chapter properly so that they may live on despite, their bloodline most likely having died long before them. 

The couple really didn't have much and you were sure if you tried you could dedicate one small wall and bookshelf to their personal belongings to honor them. The thought makes you suck your teeth, so easily you cling to sentimental bullshit, out of spite now their things would be lucky to be stored away in a box. 

On the dusty coffee table are two sets of coasters, tops well worn from sweating drinks, a black leather book and a copy of The Great Gatsby with a broken spine. 

The book peaks your interest, hadn't read it since highschool and even then that felt like a foreign memory. Of harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed loud enough you were sure you'd go deaf to them after having lived in silence for so long. Tossing the tattered paperback onto the old wood top before your fingers grab for the worn leather spine, flipping the pages to see dozens and dozens of entries.

You settle into the old couch, the fire in the wood stove keeping the place warm as the sun lazily bleeds in through the windows to provide you with just enough light to read as you flip it open you're met with a threat.

If ya settle here ya better watch over our goddamn farm. 

The cover page makes you snort, flipping the thick page to consume what you could, hoping there would be some hints on where they stashed their canned goods and supplies. Even if it didn't provide you with anything, at least it helped past the time.

Jan 31 20XX  Six years after the "Rapture" 

It's ain't all fucking peachy keen as I'm sure ya can see and I'm comin to realize that I ain't built to live forever.

And if I was, I couldn't imagine a worse hell than this. 

If ya settled here in our little house I've got some rules. 

No drinks on my damn coffee table without a coaster. I got plenty of 'em. The ones from my birthday (they got cats on em but the paint'll be rubbed off by now I'm sure) or the ones Emroy made outta small trees. Hell use a book if ya gotta. 

Two, you best sweep this home. I don't care where ya came from or who ya came from, what god you do or don't worship but there is one thing for certain, house as old as this has a spirit and ya best keep it happy. Open the front and back door (good cross breeze in the sweltering summer) and you sweep my damn house. 

Or I just might be the spirit that haunts ya. 

Reckon that's it. So I'll quit my belly achin and step down from my soapbox to learn ya a thing or two.  

Now if you're a country folk and from 'round these parts y'all'll know two things. When snows a coming, or rain, y'all can smell it real easy in the air. Can't tell ya the smell but if you know ya know. And the second being it always snows heavier in the next coming weeks before spring than it will in the dead of winter. 

Now if you're from the city or just can't smell like ya used to, Bets the cow will be able to tell ya. She won't come out, simple as that and by the next day snow'll be up to your knees and Bets will look at you like she told you so.  

Hopefully she'll live that long, seems this disease ain't affecting the animals like it is us folks. Reckon we didn't pray hard enough or some preachy shit Gran would've said. Now if the cow ain't there to tell ya, the farm log will. Use yer head, you'll see the pattern even with the blasted greed fueled heat spikes. It's best to prepare for the worst. We've enough canned rations to last us a lifetime in the cellar but Emory and I are old as dirt, it won't last forever but as long as these hands can can, they'll can what he grows. 

Emory, my husband, says hello. Wants me to tell the "stranger" that's you I reckon, that the Great Gatsby is worth the read and that if ya find yourself with nothing to do, which ya will eventually, you should read it. 

Go on now, get back to surviving and be sure to dust my damn picture frames too. 

Yours truly,

Astrid & Emory. 

Pushy. You think to yourself but relish in the fact that old folks like to ramble, even in written form. Quick to explore the home to find the cellar doors in the fading short lived light of winter before realizing the age of the home. 

Shit, it's probably buried under a whole foot and a half of snow, you could exhume it now but you and twilight always seemed to have bad luck. 

It's when you've been raided most and almost bitten more times than you can count and after finding this place you don't wish to push your luck. Even if the undead were few and far between in bumfuck nowhere. 

Flipping open the cabinets in the kitchen you find a few manufactured canned meats. Fingers smoothing out the old label for any sign of denting or damage that could lead to botulism. Finding none makes you pop open the can to sit atop the old black wood stove, glass casting the room in a soft orange that rivals the sunset. It makes you pull the blinds closed in caution, not wanting any light to attract unwanted guests and when the wind howls you wrap tighter in one of the many blankets lying around. 

Three days pass and there is only so many times you can study the farm logs and widdle wood into pitiful shapes with your dull knife before you drive yourself mad. Still avoiding the books for now in some sort of spite or rebellion to God knows who before you're outside and bundled up. Shovel in hand as you scrape the metal spade all along the foundation of the house until you hear a satisfying tink. 

Your luck would be to start in the wrong direction and have to walk all the way back around the house just for the damn thing to be on the left side of the back porch instead of the right. Shoveling away the icy snow before coming across the wooden cellar doors. You wonder if you'll have to replace them soon but your curiosity of the future dies when you spy a combination padlock. Sucking your teeth pull a bobby pin from your hair, straightening it out and wiggling it between the rusting dials, scraping it around before feeling the soft give of the locking mechanism. You jab roughly and the lock pops open making you smile as if you hadn't picked anything ten times as hard. 

Taking the steps into the deep cellar where the air was cool yes but warmer than outside. As if it were deep enough in the Earth to stay a balmy fifty degrees even in summer heat. Flash light paints the darkness in harsh white when you spy a candle and a box of matches into an enclave built right into the old cobblestone. 

Once the fire flickers to life you switch your flashlight off, pocketing it as the candle washes the old glass jars and few metal cans aglow. 

Jarred jerky catches your eye first as you snatch for that, then a small jar of syrupy looking strawberries, as bright red as when they were first picked, making your mouth salivate. The place neatly organized and labeled, the metal cans of all of those beef stews that were upstairs despite there only being enough of those left to last through this winter. Even if you stretched them out with water. Finger following the shelf lining to try to find more sweet fruit coming across the word peaches under a layer of dust. 

Delight you look up, just to find the shelf empty and the sight of it makes you snarl. 

But at least you had your strawberries. 

They taste like late spring, like your childhood when you'd pick the berries at the local farm. How the sun beating down on your back made them taste that much sweeter in the field. A little reward paid by the sweat on your brow and the money your mother would toll out for the fresh fruit. 

Well, well worth the price. 

Spring is coming like her book says and you sweep and dust her house.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

With Good Weather Brings Good Breedings 🐰🌸 (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Poly!KiriBaku x Black!Bunny Girl!Reader

Synopsis: In which your spring cycle comes a little earlier than usual and you’re too afraid of your boyfriends–whom you’ve been dating for five months–thinking you’re weird instead of telling them about your cycle during mating season. However, during a picnic thrown especially for you, your two favorite pros are more aware than you realize and are more than happy to help you with your little problem.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS STAY TF AWAY), Poly Romance, AgedUp!Pro!Bakugou & Kiri (they’re in their late 20s), Black!Reader, Bunny Girl!Reader, Mating Cycle, In Heat, Dick Crazed, Public Sex/Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Foreplay, Nipple Play, Light Foot Fetish (Toe Sucking), Clit Stimulation, Overstimulation, Deepthroating, Biting/Nibbling, Hair/Ear Pulling, Tail Stroking, Spanking, Face Fucking, Light Hints of Dacryphilia, Degradation, Name Calling, Pet Names, Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Full Nelson, Mating Press), Non-Protected PIV/Non-Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Mentions of Breeding, Squirting, Creampies, Facials, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y’all!! 🌸🌺🌻 Decided to celebrate by giving y’all another smutty short fic. You’re welcome, enjoy & thank you tons for the love on my work so far. Stay safe out there cuz COVID ain’t over. Wear your mask!! -Jazz

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Read on AO3 here!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

CHAPTER ONE: GIRL TALK

You step out of the Uber you bought minutes ago after saying thank you to the driver and tipping him for his safe driving and comfortable leather seats.

As he drives away, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the clean, cool, sweet-smelling air, hints of the warm sun, and fresh grass shavings from the park behind you infiltrating your senses.

‘Finally,’ you think as you stare up at the clear, blue sky. Spring is here.

Well, not technically since it’s a week away, but it might as well be officially here with the gorgeous weather now settling in. Gone are the cold winter days and snow on the ground. Now, all you see are flowers blooming on trees, kids in the park, and people sitting outside of the bistro you stand in front of.

You decided to meet up with your friends for lunch, both of who work at different agencies than you. Still in your cute little office fit from today, you walk into the quaint little bistro. It is not as packed on the inside as it is on the outside, so you’re able to find your friends immediately. They sit at a round table near the window, already having their cocktails and appetizers ready.

Mina aka pro hero Pinkie waves from her spot next to Jirou aka pro hero Earwig. “Y/N!” she shouts even though you’re a few feet away. “Over here!” You can see that Mina is dressed for the occasion in a pink sundress and a cropped jean jacket.

You giggle at your friend’s cute antics as you walk over to the table, giving each of them a squeeze. “Thanks for meeting me,” you coo as you take a seat across from them.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Mina replies before giving you a whistle. “Damn, girl, you look cute! I’d kill to have my ass look that good in a skirt!”

“Please,” you scoff but flush at her compliment. You admit you wanted to look cute today for the weather, your lunch date, and two particular people at the agency you work at. You went for a nice sweater, some comfortable heels, and a pencil skirt with the fabric cut out in the back to let your little cotton tail breathe.

You sit across from your friends with your ears free from the elastic band you usually put them in at the top of your head, both of them drooping down due to your relaxed state. As an animal hybrid, specifically a rabbit/bunny hybrid, you do everything in your power to be as discreet and as safe with your “animal parts” as possible. That means ruining your clothes to let your tail stretch and tying back your ears to avoid them getting pulled on.

“Thank you, but you look good in anything,” you tell Mina. You glance at Jirou in her oversized sweater and jeans that hug her slim hips. “You both do.”

“I tried to get her to ditch the sweater,” Mina says, nudging Jiro who playfully glares at her. “But I did manage to get her in the jeans!”

“And I look damn good,” Jirou snickers as their waitress comes over. You order your own cocktail and main course before the waitress hustles away and you dig into one of the appetizer plates set before you. “So how was work?” Mina asks as Jirou sips on her whiskey smash. “Since you changed the time for us meeting up, I’m guessing it was busy.”

“Oh, man, was it,” you huff, feeling good to have some food in you now. And to be sitting. Despite being an office assistant for two years, you were on your feet all day: scanning; running from floor to floor delivering papers; answering calls; sitting in on a meeting that your boss organized to meet with another agency CEO in America, and taking tons of notes, etc. Your poor little feet were about to explode!

You couldn’t wait for lunch to come which finally arrived at 1 PM. Once it did, you announced your departure to your boss and you were out. All your boss told you was to enjoy it. He trusts you and likes your work ethic, determination, and hardworking personality (as he’s told you before). You’re the type to stay late when no one else will and help out with extra tasks. That’s why you get extra leeway, such as having a two-hour lunch instead of just one.

“I’m shocked those two idiots even let you outside when you dress like this,” Jirou comments, nodding at the way your skirt hugged your hips. Mina giggles as you flush, sipping your cocktail. “Maybe Kirishima,” she purrs, wiggling her brows at you. “But definitely not Bakugou. I’m sure he’d force some sweats with his name printed on your ass for you.”

At the mention of your coworkers and boyfriends, you feel yourself get hot under your cashmere sweater. You sip your cocktail, twirling your tongue around the straw as you do, and advert your gaze from your all-too-knowing friends. They knew those two idiots at you by the heart, but they also knew you had them wrapped around your finger.

You’ve been dating Bakugou Katsuki aka Ground Zero and Kirishima Ejirou aka Red Riot for five months now. You’ve known them for two years since you worked at the same agency, though in different departments. While you were usually in the office, they were out patrolling and fighting crime, but occasionally stopped by to pick up reports or sit in meetings. You called them your coworkers since you technically worked together.

At least that’s what Kiri always dubbed you whenever he’d see you down the hall or in the cafeteria. “Hey, coworker!” he’d greet you with that big ass, sweet grin on his handsome face. You found yourself looking forward to seeing that smile and hearing that nickname as time went on and you got to know him better.

You didn’t know what to make about Bakugou for the two years you knew of him. He always seemed so cold and snapped easily, so you did your best to keep your distance. However, you still gave him a ‘good morning’ every time you saw him in the elevators or a ‘good night’ when you left the agency for the night. He never gave you so much as a nod or a look that always rubbed you the wrong way. You thought at first that he didn’t like you, mostly because of you being a bunny girl.

You weren’t blessed with the strength and phenomenal thighs of the bunny hero Rumi, but you did have the ears and the tail. Which is why you were sure Bakugou disliked you. People often have a misconception when it comes to bunny hybrid people, especially bunny girls: they’re too hyper; too jittery; too horny. None of that was true, which is why when you saw an opening for Bakugou and Kiri’s agency, you took it.

You wanted to prove to everyone that you were more than capable of being a ‘normal’ human being and a professional worker. Bakugou seemed to notice that eventually because one day, out of the blue, he complimented you on the PowerPoint presentation you gave for a meeting he and Kiri sat in on. “Nice presentation,” he said in his raspy, grumbly tone, which you realized was just his voice. “You know your shit.”

You were shook, blinking at him in shock. But he wasn’t being sarcastic or playing with you. Those vermillion eyes, which usually made you nervous, said it all. “T-Thank you,” you stuttered out.

That was over a year ago. Since that day, you, Bakugou, and Kiri became close friends. You ate lunch together, texted each other, and they walked you to the bus stop after work until they began driving you home. The romantic feelings that developed between you three came on strong but slow, but when it hit you, it hit you hard.

It hit you real hard. You began feeling that warm zing whenever they touched you or feeling your heart race whenever they gave you a smile. You were more than happy to keep these feelings to yourself, but they weren’t. So one Saturday night, they treated you to dinner and game night at their place. Under some candlelight and your belly filled with some good ramen was when they each took your hand and stared you down across their kitchen table with their eyes like sunken treasure.

“We like you,” Kiri had said softly, his cheeks a pale red. “Not just as a friend. As more. We want to be more with you.” You were in shock. Here two of the most popular and sexiest heroes were confessing their romantic feelings for you. You. Out of every model, celebrity, or famous woman in the world.

“We want you to be a part of what we have,” Bakugou added, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. “So don’t say yes unless you’re sure, dummy, ‘cause that’ll piss me off.”

After picking your jaw up off the floor and smoothing down your ears that shot straight up in excitement, you gave them both a genuine, needy yes and had the pleasure of tasting both of their lips for the first time. Each of their kisses had your foot twitching to thumb against the floor and your cotton tail begging to be stroked, but you managed to play it off cool. You three ended the night with some Mario Kart, ice cream, and cuddling on their couch.

Since that night, it’s been no one but you three. The past five months have been nothing short of amazing for you. While your relationship is still under wraps since people like to talk, Bakugou still walks past your cubicle to check up on you and Kiri always makes sure you get off and on the bus safely by standing at the stop whenever you’re going to or from work. It feels good to have them protect you. Worry over you. Adore you.

And though the five months have been amazing, there is still one thing missing. The sex. And that’s what you invited your two closest friends to talk about.

You sit up straight in your seat, feeling somewhat confident now that the alcohol is in you. “So I called y’all out here for a reason,” you begin, folding your hands on the table. “I wanted us to talk about something that’s been bugging me.”

Mina and Jirou sit at attention immediately, eyes on you even when the food comes. “We’re all ears, boo,” Mina says as she begins to chomp down on her burger. “Shoot!”

You wriggle your fingers nervously, trying to come up with a way to start this right. “So,” you begin, clearing your throat, “you when certain animals go into cycles when the spring comes?”

“You mean in heat?” Jirou asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, Momo and I have a kitten that went through that last year before she got her neutered. Why?”

You flush, embarrassment blooming in your chest, until Mina giggles. “Y/N, we know you go through heat, silly girl! You’re a hybrid; a bunny hybrid at that. Of course, you go through mating cycles!”

“But that’s just the thing,” you groan, frustrated already. “I haven’t been in a relationship while in heat in years. I’m usually always alone, so it’s easy to just hook up with someone or just use my toys. But now, with me being with Kiri and Katsuki…” You trail off, shame lodged in your core.

You have yet to talk to Katsuki and Kiri about your little “spring cycle.” Due to spring being mating season for many animals (especially mammals) you, as a hybrid AND a mammal, get it big time. It happens every year around the first week of spring but then fades over time and gets easier to manage when summer begins to come. It’s sort of like a period cycle except there isn’t any blood, cramps, or bloating.

However, you do ovulate, have tender breasts and mood swings, and become overly sensitive in terms of your body. Especially your nipples and clit. I’m talking about going braless and avoiding any mentions of sex to avoid your pussy going into hyperdrive. But this only happens during the first week of spring, which is the hardest stage to manage your life in.

You get so unbelievably, annoyingly horny. You awaken for days in a sweat and your pussy wet from the nastiest dreams you could imagine. You’ve had to have several bathroom breaks at work to get a nut because you’re unable to focus. You can hardly sleep at night, haunted by fantasies of getting bent over and fucked into a trapezoid, leading to you walking around with dark circles under your eyes and no tolerance for people who ask if they can touch your tail.

No amount of toys or stimulation with your fingers will help you during this stage if your body doesn’t agree with how many times you make yourself cum. Lately, you’ve been searching for hookups to cure you of your urges, but last year after one of your one-night stands pulled on your ears, you decided to cut off all kinds of physical contact with anyone when you’re in heat.

Well, until Kiri and Bakugou came into the picture.

But after the first stage is done, you’re usually fine. Once that first week is up, the second week is the second stage, and though you’re still horny, the level goes from 100 to about 50. You’re finally able to focus on daily tasks. You can sleep better. Giving yourself one nut is enough for you.

But now that you have two amazing, loving, and sexy partners–two that aren’t just hookups or FWBs–you are more than reluctant to tell them about your cycle, let alone have them even see you during it. You’ve already felt the first few symptoms of your cycle beginning to take root: naughty daydreams of the three of you together, hands and mouths on you; your body growing hot when one of them touches you; your tail and ears twitching at their scents.

You don’t know if you can handle your cycle this time. Not with Kiri and Bakugou in the picture. You’ve thought about asking them for a break until the spring ends, but even thinking about asking that of them makes you sick.

“Well, girl, that’s a given!” Mina replies to you, snapping out of your thoughts. Jirou nods, her mouth full of her lunch. “I’m sure Kiri and Bakugou know about your cycles. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be dating you. I mean, they have to know from the sex, right?”

Your friends look at you expectantly. You advert your eyes, instead staring out the restaurant window at the park across the street. Mina gasps, making you cringe. “No way,” she says, shocked. “You haven’t had sex with them yet? Y/N, it’s been five months!”

You stir your straw around your cocktail glass, biting your lower lip. “W-Well, we wanted to take it slow,” you murmur. “I told them about my less-than-satisfying past when it comes to relationships and sex, so we agreed to wait and get to know each other more.”

And it’s true: Kiri and Bakugou were more than happy to put sex on the back burner in the five months you began dating. You’ve come close a few times–nights during heated makeout sessions on your couch, Bakugou’s hands on your ass, Kiri’s hands cupping your face as his lips move against yours. But you’ve never gotten each other’s clothes off. You don’t even know what their dicks look like…but fuck, do you want to know. You’ve never wanted anything more!

But because of your past relationships ending before they began due to most of your partners wanting you to be a bunny girl out of a porno, and hookups that barely left you satisfied, you decided to act against temptation. You brought your concerns to your men’s attention three months into your relationship at your place after a movie and Bakugou’s hands down your pants.

“I just think we should slow down,” you said softly, each of your hands in theirs. “I really like you both, and I just don’t wanna move too fast, y’know?”

“Of course, cutie,” Kiri had cooed, nuzzling his face into your cheek. “Whatever makes you comfortable. We’d never cross any line with you to make you feel pressured.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Bakugou added. “Just stop wearin’ these around me unless you wanna get fucked silly.” His hand slid across your jeans, his fingertips squeezing your asscheek.

You almost regretted saying anything that night. While you were incredibly happy with them without that kind of physical contact, you couldn’t deny that you wanted them all over you. You wanted them to touch you; kiss you; tease you; use you; fuck you in every position possible and then cover you in their cum. You wanted to be covered in their kisses and smell like their cologne, their scents imprinted on you like tattoos.

But how the fuck are you supposed to tell them that? Plus, with the rep bunny girls get anyway, you wouldn’t want them to think of you the way other men you’ve been with have: a sex-crazed slut. When you did finally have sex with your boyfriends, you wanted it to mean more than just getting a nut.

“Well, how is this gonna work when you’re in heat?” Jirou asks curiously. “Don’t you have to fuck someone as part of your natural cycle?”

You looked down at your food, pushing it around your plate with your fork. “Well…yeah,” you admit. “Hence my past hookups. Usually, I’m good with just myself to help me out, but as I’ve gotten older, my urges have gotten more intense. But it’s different with Kiri and Katsuki! I really care about them and I don’t wanna jeopardize our relationship because I’m horny.”

“Did you ever think about them caring about you so much that’d they help you regardless of the sex?” Mina asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You blink at her because no, you haven’t thought about that at all. Mina hums knowingly. “Knowing those two and how crazy they are about you, they’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable, Y/N. So if they have to make you cum ten times to get you out of your cycle, then so be it!”

Though she’s probably right, you still feel that uncomfortable tug of anxiety in your tummy. How can they be so sure Kiri and Bakugou would be okay with this?

As if hearing your battling thoughts, Jirou reaches for your hand from across the table. “Just talk to them about it,” she says encouragingly. “That doesn’t hurt, right? Just bring it up the next time you see them and see what they say.”

That’ll be tomorrow since Kiri and Bakugou took off today for a break. “I’m sure you’re just freaking yourself out here, Y/N,” Mina says brightly. “Those morons would give anything to see you smile.” She smiles at you, winking. “Trust us.”

And though you smile back, you still feel those nervous butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

This is gonna be a long spring.

[kitchenwitchery72]

Herbalism 101: Lemon

EP. 7

Fun fact

Lemons are technically berries!

Properties : clarity, friendship, happiness, protection

Uses in the kitchen

Lemon is used for its tart flavor. It can be found in many desserts, pastries, and cocktails. They can also be used to clean or make a simmer pot, leaving your home smelling fresh.

Uses in healing

Lemon has been found to have anti microbial properties and is a great source of vitamin C. Some say that drinking lemon juice can get rid of hiccups as well!

Uses in witchcraft

If you work with the moon, leaving lemons or parts of lemons on your altar to honor the moon is a great use. I often use the dried peels, dehydrated in the oven, in spell jars and charm bags. Another common use for lemon is in protective work. Things like a cleansing bath, a protective jar etc. are great uses for lemon.

Tips for growing at home

Lemons are not particularly difficult to grow, however if you live in a place with a harsh winter, chances are it will not thrive. Don't forget, lemon trees will take around two years to bear fruit, so be patient! Finally, you can grow these trees in a pot indoors, but they will need full sun.

Recipe

This is technically a repeat of an old recipe I have posted before, but I am changing out lavender for lemon because I make these all the time and they are a crowd pleaser.

Lemon shortbread cookies

4 cups flour

1 cup powdered sugar

1lb salted butter

2 drops lemon extract

Lemon zest for the looks

Combine the ingredients with the butter still a bit chilled. You can make little balls or roll it out to cut out shapes, you may need a little extra flour for this. Bake at 350 for 8 minutes.

[vodika-vibes]

Hexx x reader with the prompt "it's okay if you fall asleep" (as in the reader is saying that to him) I personally find it crazy that no one has ever written fics for Hexx and Veetch

Blanket Of White

Summary: It’s the first snowfall of the winter, and while you’ve always loved the snow, you know Hexx doesn’t.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Hexx x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1044

Warnings: the Reader called ad'ika, mentions illnesses and amutations

A/N: So, Wookieepedia says that Hexx's personality is his height, so most everything about him is made up. I hope you like it! I made a divider specifically for Hexx, lol.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You step out of the kitchen, the scent of the stew you’ve been lovingly making since morning trailing behind you like a delicious-smelling ghost, your gaze searching the living room to find the man who’s been sharing your home for the better part of a year.

Hexx, a clone trooper who had been stationed on Barton IV with his battalion, was one of only a handful of survivors. The other survivors (Commander Mayday, Lieutenant Veetch, and Crosshair) have already been folded into a Rebellion cell.

Unfortunately, Hexx doesn’t have that option.

In truth, his injuries had been relatively minor, all things considered. The problem wasn’t the injury, the problem was the cold. His armor had been damaged, and he got frostbite…which went untreated until it developed into gangrene. 

Hexx’s entire left leg needed to be amputated.

And while that, normally, wouldn’t have stopped him the fact remains that he’s in almost constant pain and requires a cocktail of painkillers just to be able to function.

It won’t be like this for much longer, though. You’ve finally managed to make enough money to get your hands on a bacta tank. A couple of weeks in that, and all of his pain will be gone, and he can join his Commander.

Your gaze sweeps the room one more time, and then you catch a glimpse of Hexx standing in your sunroom. You watch him for a moment, trying to determine where his headspace is, and then you join him in the sunroom.

“Hexx?”

His dark eyes are locked on the snow falling from the sky, his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles are white, and tension runs through his frame.

You don’t dare get closer to him.

“Hexx,” You repeat, your voice gentle, “Dinner still needs to simmer for a couple of hours. Why don’t you come away from here?”

He doesn’t move, and he shows no indication that he’s heard you at all.

You frown and turn to the panel next to the door. You press a few buttons, and the sun shades lower over the windows, plunging the room into darkness, the only light coming from the main house.

The sudden change jolts Hexx from whatever trance he seems to have fallen into, and he turns his surprised gaze from the shuttered windows onto you.

“Ah,” He tilts his head and turns to you fully, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I noticed,” Your smile is kind though, and you offer him your hand, “Come away from here, Hexx.”

His gaze falls to your hand, and then he steps over to you and takes your hand into his much larger one, almost immediately threading your fingers together. Hexx’s hand is freezing, and you place your free hand over the top of his, trying to offer him some warmth.

“Was there something you needed, ad’ika?” Hexx asks as he allows you to tug him into the main part of the house.

“I just wanted to let you know that dinner still needs to simmer for a couple of hours.” You guide him over to the couch and lightly push him to sit down, and then you toss a thick fuzzy blanket over him and tuck it around him.

He releases a huff of laughter, “I’m not cold, ad’ika.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” You counter, as you seriously consider getting a wool hat and pulling it on his head, and maybe a scarf.

Your thoughts must be written on your face because Hexx laughs and tugs his arms free from the blanket so he’s able to tug you to the couch next to him. Then he pulls you so that your face is pressed against his neck.

“Thank you for worrying about me.”

You sigh and snake your arms around his neck, “Of course I worry about you. That’s what I do. I worry.” Your arms tighten around his neck, “I’m going to miss you when you leave.”

“We still have plenty of time left together.” Hexx points out logically, “I’m not leaving just yet.”

You shrug and pull away from him, “But you will. It’s my lot in life, to help you all get back into fighting shape, and then get left behind and forgotten.”

“I don’t think anyone could ever forget you,” Hexx counters dryly, “ad’ika, you gave me a daily sponge bath when I was in so much pain I couldn’t move. I could give you my firstborn child, and it wouldn’t be payment enough.”

“Sure, sure.” You wave your hand dismissively, even as you eye him critically. He still isn’t really himself, the snow is not doing wonders for his mental state, but he seems present enough for the time being.

You’re surprised when his arms tighten around your waist, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

“...beg pardon?”

“Well, you’re all alone out here. And it’s not really safe with the state of the galaxy, and wouldn’t it be better if you had someone around to protect you all of the time?” Hexx asks, his eyes almost pleading with you.

You sigh softly and lightly card your fingers through his hair. Then an amused smile lifts your lips as he lays his head on your chest, his ear over your heart. Hexx’s eyes close and your heart swells with fondness.

None of the other men you’ve cared for have ever been so affectionate with you.

“It’s okay if you fall asleep.” You whisper to him.

“‘M not tired,” He replies, though his body does sag heavily against you, so you doubt the truth in his words.

“We can talk about what comes after during dinner,” You soothe, your fingers gentle as you massage his head, “Get some sleep, Hexx. All will be well. I promise.”

His arms tighten around you and he exhales slowly, “Love you, cyare.” He mumbles as he drifts off to sleep.

Your fingers don’t even pause their gentle motions as he says those world-shattering words. But your gaze does soften as you stare at the top of his head. Oh, you sweet, sweet man. 

If Hexx wants to stay, then you will do everything in your power to make sure that he can. All will be well. You’ll make sure of it.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

[magiciansfanworksextravaganza]

10 days till WARM UP

WARM UP

We’re excited! In 10 more days, posting begins for our first challenge, Warm Up! Posting will take place anytime you like between Dec. 1-7, 2024.

This is a micro Magicians fanwork event. We’re especially interested in pieces that are small. Fic to 1,000 words (drabbles, poems, and flash encouraged); smaller pieces of art; shorter vids/edits, mini-fanmixes; a cosplay moment. It’s your call; we’d love to see it all! As always, additions to existing WIPs welcome, as are new works!

The “warm up” theme could include vibes that are warm, cozy, related to winter, being hot (in any sense of that word), warming up or preparing for a big event, just starting out in something like magic, or any spin you’d like to put on it!

Still looking for inspiration? Here are a few additional idea-starters:

warm personality

"getting warmer" (game or phrase, serious or ironic)

someone associated with warm colors

fire/heat/flames; could include the blue fires of a Niffin, or magic of many kinds

magical flames; fireworks; light flash; or magic tingling through you

campfire, torches, a blanket, a sleeping bag

sharing a bed (or a quilt; or falling asleep together on a sofa)

coffee/hot chocolate/hot tea or other warm drinks (many drinks can warm one up, including cocktails)

the sun, hot tub, sauna, the beach

warmth—emotional, physical, magical, creative—especially in the context of chilly times

“warming up” with exercises (writing, physical exercise, etc.)

“warming up” to someone or something.

You absolutely do NOT need to join our Discord server to participate, but here's the invite if you'd like to brainstorm with others, if you’re feeling stuck, etc.: https://discord.gg/NcBDD63uFg

There’s no need to sign up—just post to AO3 and/or Tumblr (instructions will follow) in the first seven days of December 2024. Meanwhile, over the next few days we’ll share the link to the AO3 collection, and provide info about posting on Tumblr so we can reblog your work and add it to the masterpost. Stay tuned—and stay warm!