#but I tried that last week with a couple of quick things and they’re STILL sitting in my drafts!

[citrus-cactus]

I always get FOMO when it gets close to a big fandom anniversary I’m not participating in (in this case, Digimon Survive 2nd anniversary today/tomorrow, Odaiba Day August 1), but also I need to be gentle/kind to myself. I’ve been SO tired lately, and kind of struggling with my lack of efficiency in making art, and I’m just not that inspired in the Digimon idea space lately. Which sucks! But is true.

I HAVE been making things, but holding off on posting them because while I personally am happy with them, I can’t quite get over the feeling that my followers don’t want to see this stuff/will choose to ignore it, so why bother? I know that’s objectively silly—create for yourself and do what you want and don’t worry about numbers and what followers think and all that—but it’s just hard to convince myself of that enough to actually hit the post button. The cringe and the feeling that no one but me wants to see what I’m currently working on is winning. I don’t want this to be the case, but it is!

Send some positive thinking my way, if you can spare it 💖

[zombholic]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏

“who the fuck moves to tennessee dad!” you threw your hands to your head while having a heated argument with your father.

he said something about his business booming if they moved over there, how he’d be making twice as much as his regular income.

but next thing you knew you were unloading boxes upon boxes into your farm house that was beautifully remodeled you can even say. you chose the room with a gorgeous bay window that showed the entire farm from the backyard, you can say this is the whitest thing you dad ever decided.

after a couple of weeks of still getting settled into your new home, the only neighbor you had being at least three miles away. your dad had hired some help with the farm, he was eager to make it into something beautiful, he was having them buy all sorts of crops and farm animals. yeah, you like animals but if a chicken chased you, you are running for you damn life.

“y/n, come here real quick!” you slipped on your fluffy little slides and made your way downstairs to see your dad sitting down with a couple other people, he made them something to snack on in the meanwhile.

“yeah?” you sat on the arm of the coach “these are our farmers, they’re gonna be here for a very long time so introduce yourself now because they’re gonna become family real soon” he chuckled, you got up and shake their hands, your eyes getting caught on the muscular blonde with a long braided ponytail, her blue eyes and freckled face could’ve ended you right there until you noticed her arms.

“uh.. i’m y/n but you guys can call me y/nn if you want” your handshake with the girl lasting a little longer “well of course miss y/n, it’s great to meet you, my names abby!” a strong southern accent slipped from her lips.

—

every time your dad left for work you took the opportunity to blast music from you room, the songs slipped through the little cracks in the wooden house enough for the farmers to hear. you noticed today was a little hotter than other day so you decided to be a good little help and bring them sandwiches you made with something to drink.

walking outside over to the guys you thanked them for their help and handed them the snack, you couldn’t seem to find abby until you heard noise coming from the stables, entering it you swore you could’ve passed out at the sight of her. the sleeves to her button up rolled up to show off her veiny arms, sweat seeping through, strands of her hair sticking to her face. she was loading hay bells on top of each other, she noticed your presence after you staring at her with goo-goo eyes.

“hey ms. y/n, can i help you with anythin’?” she took her gloves off tucking them into her back pocket, wipes the sweat off her face with her arm, breathing heavily from the labor.

“i um made you a sandwich, you guys deserve a break” you gave her a shy smile before handing her the sandwich and cold water bottle “that’s so sweet of you hun, thank you” she took them from your smaller hands, gulping down the water bottle within seconds. “oh um, did you want another one?” you didn’t it was humanly possible to drink water that fast.

“no no, it’s all good miss, thank you s’much” god you couldn’t get enough of that accent of hers, “did you need help? i can help load them” you walked in front of her and tried to pick up one of the hay bells before miserably putting it back on the ground “no, don’t hurt yourself miss, they’re too heavy” it seemed almost like an insult, you can do heavy lifting as well.

“i can help around my farm as well abby, see” you finally lifted the hay, struggling very very badly to put it on the other ones “if you want to help, miss, you can pick those pretty little flowers” she grabbed the hay bell from you and settled it down “i don’t want your pretty little hands getting all rough n calloused like mine” she threw her gloves back on.

“i can do that” you went over to the small garden that growing the prettiest flowers, getting on your knees you slowly started picking the ones that you thought were pretty, you screamed bloody murder when you saw a little snake in between the flowers, jolting up and running away from it before hitting into something hard.

“oh god miss, what? what happened?” she held your arms with a very concerned look “abby there’s, oh fuck” you coughed a little, hiding your face in her chest unintentionally, you had the worst fear of snakes, didn’t matter how big or small they were, they scared you to death “what? miss? wheres what?” she noticed your distress and rubbed her hands on back “there’s a snake in the flowers, ohmygod im gonna pass out.”

abby had you sit down on the bench near the stable, your knees tucked against your knees as you were afraid of anything else showing up, she bent down and easily grabbed the little snake, a laugh erupting from her “you were scared of this little fella?” she looked over at you, you were tense by seeing her holding that thing.

“yes! please put it away somewhere far!” anyone else would’ve said you were overreacting but a phobia is a phobia.

she came back over to you with the softest smile “let’s get you back inside miss, don’t need you gettin’ a heart attack” she halfheartedly joked, agreeing with her you slowly and carefully walked back inside your house, abby following closely behind you like a bodyguard. turning around went you reached your back door you gave her an embarrassed look.

“i must’ve look so stupid to you, city girl comes to the country and screams at the first thing she sees outside” your comment earned a laugh from her “i can’t blame you miss but i grew up in this area so i’ve seen everything you can think of.” you smiled at her, giving her a small thank you before walking inside.

AUTHORS NOTE: ima drag tf outta this series yall!!

[roanofarcc]

YOU NEVER LEFT ME

pairing. javi x fem!reader

summary. after the loss of three of your best friends, you found yourself pushing everyone away. it seemed easier that way. if there was no one around, no one could be taken from you. and while that mentality faded as time healed your wounds, you had no intention of seeking out kate nor javi. you thought it was better that way. until, one day fate brings you all back together, and you have to deal with some long unspoken feelings. 

warnings. PTSD, mentions of drinking/underage drinking, fluffy, "unrequited" feelings, mention of kate/javi, kate and tyler are idiots in love in the background.

word count. 2.1k || masterlist

The air was dry in Oklahoma that summer, the heat intense and reminiscent. You sat in the passenger seat, gaze focused out the window. 

“Did you review the application?” your coworker asked from the driver’s seat, making light small talk between the gaps of silence in the radio. 

“Courtney filled me in on their qualifications, and why she thinks they’re a good fit for the grant. I trust her judgment,” you replied. Work had been busy the past couple of weeks, and you’d been too swamped to sit down and read the top contender for a rather large grant that would help a team of lucky storm chasers fund their research. You had received a stack of applications, but the team you were traveling to meet was the top contender. 

Your coworker hummed and left it at that until your little road trip concluded at a barn in the middle of nowhere. “This is their lab?” he asked, parking the car. “I feel like we’re stepping into a horror film. There’s no one around for miles.” 

You smiled and shook your head. “That’s Oklahoma for you,” you said. “Come on.” You stepped out of the car, feeling the heat fit you with full force. It was oddly pleasant, a gentle reminder of your days spent traveling across Tornado Alley back in college, trying to get your and your friends' own research funded. It was odd being on the other side of things, but storm chasing was no longer something you dreamed of doing as a career. You had sworn it off since one deadly miscalculation and cruel fate took the lives of three of your friends. Since then, storms only brought you a cold sense of dread, which is why you pivoted paths, still playing into your curiosity in the dangerous weather, but never having to see it up close again. 

“Hey, y’all!” A chipper voice called from the barn before a group of people emerged, the storm-chasing team. You squinted in the sunlight, looking at each member for a moment before your gaze fell on the last two people. You faltered, a quick skip of your heart at the shock that toppled over you. You should have read over the application yourself. You should have known the methods sounded familiar, but time had made it seem unlikely. 

But in front of you, approaching across the dirt driveway, were your old team members, the only remaining ones alive, Kate and Javi. 

“Holy shit!” Javi said with a wide smile as he picked up his pace, practically jogging towards you. You blinked, a wave of emotions crashing over the top of you. He stopped directly in front of you, the same Javi you knew six years ago only this hair was much shorter, and he stood a little broader. But his smile was the same; the same one that used to make you clam up when you were crammed in the back of the truck together while traveling all across Tornado Alley. “I told you it was her!” he said, looking beside him at Kate. 

She looked different too, and her hair was shorter. But you couldn’t help but notice the little twinkle in her eye that had once been there but disappeared after the accident. You didn’t stick around the two of them long in the aftermath, deciding to transfer to a college close to home as you tried to recover, but you stayed long enough to see the toll it took on the two of them. Javi had lost three of his friends and Kate had lost two friends and someone who was once the love of her life. Despite that, the two of them were still working together, chasing. 

“I knew the last name, but I didn’t think…” Kate trailed off, her surprise melting into fondness as she took you in. “It's nice to see you.” 

You cleared your throat, ignoring the strange looks from your coworker. “Y-Yeah. It’s nice to see you guys too.” 

You and your coworker completed your rounds of questioning and inquiring about their research, but you were distracted. It was a strange feeling that pricked the back of your neck, somewhere between uncomfortable and drenched in nostalgia that you were watching from the outside. Javi and Kate almost acted like they’d never been apart. The way they finished each other sentences when explaining their research, with the addition of another member of their team jumping in too, was reminiscent of your college days. 

It wasn’t until standing in front of them, in the familiar space of Kate’s mother’s barn, that you realized just how much you missed them. It hit you like a gut punch, an unexpected blow. 

“Well, we’ll have to talk it over with the bossman, but I don’t see any reason why you guys shouldn’t get this grant,” your coworker said. The group was all smiles. “I think we’re good to go, yeah?” He turned to you, but before could nod in response, Javi jumped in. 

“We actually planned to either celebrate or wallow at a bar downtown, if you’d guys like to join?” Javi’s eyes were fixed on you, a light pleading gaze. 

You couldn’t say no. 

At the bar, you were sandwiched between Javi and Kate as you all sipped your drinks and talked about everything but your college days. It was something you had always tip-toed around, avoided, and by the way they spoke, you could tell it was something they hadn’t talked too much about either. 

The conversation was nice, light, but it still stung a little in your skin. It was odd, you thought, how you didn’t know just how much you missed someone until you were back in their presence. But it stuck to you like wet clothes. Yet, you tried to enjoy the moment and relish in your old friends' company for one night. 

You weren’t sure how long you spent talking until one of the other chasers from Kate and Javi’s team, the infamous Tyler Owens, appeared behind Kate and asked her to dance. She looked a little flustered, which confused you. Javi laughed and shooed her away, which also confused you. 

Maybe it wasn’t right to jump to conclusions, but by the closeness of Kate and Javi that you picked up on from the minute you arrived, you assumed they had fallen into more than old ways of friendship but moved into something more. Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed, but it made sense. Old friends reconnecting, chasing again despite everything. 

But when you say the way Tyler looked at Kate as he spun her around the crowded bar makeshift dance floor, you started to realize maybe you read things wrong. 

Javi noticed your quizzical looks at the two. He chuckled into his beer before leaning back on the bar chair. “All the Wranglers have a bet going,” he said. “How long until the two of ‘em buck up and admit their feelings for each other. It’s pretty obvious they're in love with each other, but Kate’s still…you know, she’s scared and Tyler’s too much of a gentleman to make a move until she’s ready,” he explained, putting the pieces together for you. 

“Oh,” you replied, surprised. “I thought you and Kate…” 

Javi smiled, shaking his head. “I love her, but not like that. Besides, she and Tyler are good for each other, and I…I have a somewhat pathetic love life.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I doubt it's pathetic. No more pathetic than mine, at least.” 

His gaze was heavy on the side of your face as you stared at your drink, thinking back to every failed date you managed to have since college. It wasn’t anyone's fault but your own. It was like you sabotaged your relationships, looking for something that was even a mystery to yourself. 

“I dunno about that,” he sighed. “I’ve had the same crush on a girl for years, an embarrassingly long time.” 

You met his eyes, curiosity peaked. Javi never talked much about his crushes in college, not to you at least. While Kate and Jeb seemed to have been a match made in heaven, you complained about not being able to find a love like that. Javi always listened to you complain but never mentioned his own feelings towards others around campus. You assumed it was because he was too focused on your research. You put his obviousness of the fact that you clearly had a crush on him on his focus on school. 

“How long is embarrassingly?” 

He tilted his head, a sheepish smile hung on his lips. “Since college.” 

You paused, holding your drink midway in the air, confused. “But you said you and Kate-” 

“I’m not talkin’ about Kate,” Javi said before he sighed lightly. “To be honest, I kind of lied to them about the grant and not knowing that it was your company administering it.” His admittance caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure of what to say, so you let him continue. 

“I knew it was a longshot and I had no idea if it’d actually get reviewed. But I thought it was a win-win if it did. We could win the grant and see you. The more I thought about it, though, the less it became about the money and more just about seeing you again. Probably not the smartest way or the easiest, but I wasn’t sure you’d come out if I just asked you out of the blue. And I worried, if you saw our names, you’d ignore it or something; we wouldn’t have blamed you for that, though. It’s hard; I know. Kate does too. But-” he cut himself off, a little out of breath from speaking quickly. “It’s not the same without you. And I’m not talkin’ about chasing. Having you in our lives, in my life, I miss it; I miss you…” 

It was a lot to take in, a lot to process in the loud, dusty bar. You felt warm, half a nice warmth and the other troubled, unsure. You pressed your lips into a thin line for a moment, taking in his words. 

“I-I…” The words were thick in your throat, but you swallowed them down and tried again. “I miss you guys too.” 

“Really?” 

You laughed sadly. “Of course I do. You guys were my best friends.” And it hurt that they weren’t anymore, but maybe it didn’t have to stay that way. Maybe that’s why you followed them to the bar because you weren’t ready to let them go again, despite the pain that accompanied their company as well. 

“Friends,” Javi parroted, glancing down at his beer, fingers tapping against the counter. “I’m gonna say somethin’ that might not be, uh, the right thing right now, but I don’t know when or if I’ll see you again.” You wanted to tell him that he would, but you couldn’t be certain of that; nothing was ever certain. “I liked you in college, a lot. I always have, and still do. Which, I know, is ridiculous. I haven’t seen or talked to you in years, but you never left me.” 

Your heart ached the same way it had when you two would get a little closer back in school, testing the waters of something beyond friends but you never got the chance to take the dive. 

You were quiet for a moment, eyes falling out the door onto the sky shifting colors as night neared. The smell of cheap whisky the person on the other side of you was drinking brought you back to sneaking bottles from your parent's house when your little team stopped by during chases. You and Javi sipped it in the back of the van, giggling to yourself until you fell asleep. Kate would help you two nurse a hangover with diner coffees she always poured too much sugar into. You missed that. You missed them. You missed him. 

“Maybe this won’t be the last time you see me,” you said, looking back at him. 

Javi looked surprised but it melted into excitement quickly. “Maybe you could stay, hang around a bit. You think your work would let you help us with the grant money?” 

It would be an odd ask, but possibly one they wouldn’t say no to. But the thought of chasing again sent shivers down your spine. He noticed, placing a warm hand over yours. “It’ll be different this time,” he said, voice laced with a convincing reassurance. 

You knew that wasn’t something he could promise, but the thought of jumping on a plane the next morning didn’t sit right with you either. You were stuck at a crossroads of sorts. 

It was a leap of faith, a fear-chasing endeavor you weren’t sure you were fully prepared for, but maybe it was where your life needed to go. 

“It couldn’t hurt to ask.” 

And he smiled even brighter.

[zweiginator]

boy best friend patrick constantly trying to hit on reader but she is SPP oblivious ab it and will do things that make ppl think they’re a couple but then she’ll be like ‘oh no this is my friend!!! if ur single u should check him out’ and like she’ll let him lead her by the small of her back when they’re out and in private put her legs on his or do his makeup on his lap and STILL doesn’t think it’s weird!!!!

oh he is sooo obsessed with you and you are just adamant about being super close friends with him!! of course you aren't dating; you've known each other since you were seven years old!! he has convinced you that it's normal to hold hands and for him to adjust your necklaces and share drinks and hold onto his arm during a scary movie.

patrick has gaslit himself into believing you're dating; it's easier than talking with you about it. ignorance is bliss for him. but god, it's getting harder. he tries to be more obvious about it. patrick kisses your forehead when you say goodbye to him and he ties your shoes for you and if you're at a party and a guy walks up to you, patrick is quick to grab you a drink and pull you in by the waist.

you're getting into ubers with some friends and sitting in patrick's lap when there is limited space. you give him head massages and peck him on the lips when he falls asleep on your lap, hugging you around the waist. patrick pretends to be asleep, but he always has this teeny, almost indiscernible smile that creeps upon his lips like a secret.

and your friends talk about it behind your backs.

"do they have sex?" one of them asks, after you and he have fallen asleep together on his bed.

another shakes his head. "no. and i'm just as confused about it as you are."

you and patrick get into huge fights when you try to set him up with one of your friends; it drives him crazy. Mostly because you're so fucking naive and oblivious and innocent, and he wants you so bad it makes him ache. he wants to corrupt you, but he doesn't want you to change.

"what's the big deal? i thought you liked her?" you ask. your friend had just texted patrick; you gave her his number.

"what gave you that impression?" he pulls you by your ankles. you are sitting with your legs draped across his lap; his fingers run up and down your shins.

"she is pretty. you like pretty girls, last time i checked." you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

patrick boops your nose with his thumb and smiles at you. "hmm." he says. "you're right. she's just not really my type."

maybe he will tell you next week.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

could you do please number 18 for the prompts you posted?

I absolutely love everything you write. I've even read a lot of your Star Wars fic and ive only actually seen a couple of the star wars movies 🤣🤣 you are just such a gifted writer!

i went a bit AWOL on this and it got away from me! i call this…jily-adjacent??? hope you don't mind, anon! x

from these prompts

“This is ridiculous.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re not enjoying this quality time as much as I am, Evans.”

Lily rolls her eyes, even though he can’t see her through the door. “You know,” she grunts, pulling the skirt up, and smoothing her top down over the hem, “most people opt to go out for a pint or something.” She appraises herself in the tall mirror, then swings open the door to the dressing room. “Just posing an alternative for the future.”

Sirius grins at her. “Don’t act like you didn’t love picking the outfit I’m likely to die in.” He motions for her to turn around and tugs at the skirt, clicking his teeth with the same disappointment he’s shown at the last several options.

She sighs and walks back over to the rack, grabbing the next choice: a midi-length black dress, with puffed sleeves that make her think of her great-grandmum.

“God, this is awful,” she says, pulling it off the hanger.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Evans,” Sirius says, taking the dress from her hands and holding it up in front of her, “you’ve removed ‘going out for a pint’ from the equation for us.” He pokes at her stomach as he turns to put the dress back up on the rack.

Lily smiles automatically at the reminder of what Sirius declared to be the ‘only good fucking news since fucking Hogwarts’ when she and James finally told him last week. She pops back behind the dressing room door, making quick work of the skirt and shirt ensemble, and pulls her own jumper and jeans back on. The jeans feel tighter today than usual, and she wonders if it’s because of the baby or if she’s just imagining things.

“Anyway,” Sirius says, from outside the dressing room, “maybe we should just try some Muggle shops. This place isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

Lily snorts as she pushes back through the doors, once again in her own clothes. “We’re going to the bloody Malfoys’,” she says, lowering her voice. “If we show up in Muggle clothes, we’ll be murdered in the entryway.”

“Excuse me,” Sirius says with a haughty sniff, flicking his hair over his shoulder, “but please don’t speak about my delightful family like that.”

The witch who offered to assist them earlier, before Sirius more or less told her to shut up and leave them alone glares at them from the desk, clearly annoyed that they’re still there and haven’t bought anything yet.

Lily turns back to watch Sirius as he pulls another dress from a nearby rack, frowning as if its existence has deeply offended him. “If the charms wear off and we end up looking like ourselves, who do you think they’re likely to kill first?” she asks.

“Still you,” he says with a regretful sigh. “It’s just such a shame you’ve committed the heinous crime of being born, Lily Potter.”

Sirius and Lily continue to scan the small shop for a dress that could work, but every time Lily finds something remotely bearable, Sirius shoots it down with a comment about the hemline being wrong for her body type or how the style is too 1977.

At Lily’s huff of frustration, Sirius shrugs. “If you just wanted someone to smile and say you look pretty, you should have brought James.”

“Yeah, because he’d love the reminder that we’re going on this mission without him.”

“I tried to get him instead of you,” Sirius reminds her. “Moody said Prongs doesn’t look as good in a dress. Something about the legs.”

“Just find me a dress, Black.”

“What shade of blond?” he asks, referring to the assortment of charms they’ve settled on for their disguises. “Platinum or more of—”

“Why does it matter?”

He affords her the same look of annoyance he’s reserved for the clothes up to this point in their outing. “It’s basic colour theory, Evans.”

She rolls her eyes, but replies, “Like a…honey colour?”

He nods and continues flicking through the hangers. “Speaking of Prongs,” he says, without looking at her—and they weren’t just speaking of him, so Lily knows whatever he’s about to say has been on his mind for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got some orders.”

“Orders,” Lily echoes, lifting an eyebrow.

He still doesn’t turn to look at her. “If things go tits up, at the Malfoys’, you’re getting the fuck out of there.”

Lily frowns. “Not with—”

“No way, Evans. You’ve—” He turns around now and leans against the rack. “If you wanted to play the hero, you should have thought about that before you got yourself knocked up, alright?”

Lily's brows knit together, and a flicker of irritation sparks in her eyes. “Don’t be so—”

“Obviously, I’m buzzing about the baby! So is Prongs. He—well, Merlin, you don’t need me to tell you. You have to live with the git. But come on, Evans, you can’t be stupid anymore.”

“Stupid anymore?” she bites out. The witch at the desk glances up from her magazine again, but Lily doesn’t care. She steps closer to Sirius, dropping her voice dangerously low. “You and my husband can both fuck off with whatever that is. And I think it’s pretty rich that you and him, of all people, have devised a plan for me to be less stupid, when you two have a patent on the personality trait.”

Sirius laughs loudly, throwing her off kilter. He pats her cheek. “Never change, Evans.”

“What is wrong with you?” she demands.

“Don’t you think,” he says, watching her with a smirk, “that maybe there’s a reason you ended up with Prongs? That you ended up with all of us, really? That maybe it’s not because you even us out and curb our rebellious tendencies, but maybe—just maybe, you’re a little reckless and impulsive, and yeah, a little stupid, too?”

She sputters. “That’s not—”

“If you weren’t,” he continues, still grinning, “my telling you—a woman carrying a literal child in her uterus—to get the hell out of dodge when curses start flying at the Malfoys’ wouldn’t be so personally offensive. In fact,” he tilts his head, “it would probably just seem like common bloody sense.”

Lily opens her mouth to continue to argue with his ridiculous line of logic, but he holds up a hand to stop her as he pulls a deep purple dress from a rack. He holds it against her and smiles widely. 

“This is the one, Evans,” he says with certainty.

She examines it sceptically. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a little—”

He scoffs loudly. “Lily,” he groans with indignation. “Please buy this bloody dress. Your wedding dress was literally horrid and if you’d just asked me, you could have avoided—”

“Oh my God, okay!”

[gwen-pierce]

“That’s it for today, everyone! Thanks so much for coming, we’ll see ya next time!” Ruth called from her large desk at the front of the room, emphasizing her dismissal with a happy clap. Gwen began to gather her things from the table, the woman who shared the large slab of wood with waved a quick goodbye before taking off. She was going to pick up her kids from daycare, something Gwen had learned in their few conversations over the last couple of weeks since she joined Ruth’s class.

It had all started when she began therapy. Gwen knew she had dependency issues, self-esteem issues, and even some anger issues to work through. She had thought therapy was just talking about your feelings and suddenly you didn’t feel so bad anymore. It was so much more than that. It was work. It was hard and oftentimes it hurt. At first, she didn’t think it was helping but the more effort she put in the more she started to get out of it. When her therapist suggested she take some classes in the area, Gwen dove right in. She tried cooking and it turns out guidance wasn’t what she was missing in that field, she was downright terrible at it but the class was still fun. She found herself able to laugh at her mistakes instead of feeling stupid and unworthy. She tried other things. Failed at some, excelled in others. Ceramics wasn’t her calling but she did make friends in that class that brought her to some paint and fire events which she was actually good at and enjoyed. Aerial silks left her covered in bruises and so did pole dancing, but the later class made her feel empowered. Sexy, even.

Floral arranging quickly became her favorite weekly event. Not only did she easily get lost in creating bouquets she found the instructor, Ruth’s, voice soothing. Her presence calming. The classroom was warm and inviting and the flowers centered Gwen in a way she hadn’t ever been before. Like they understood her. Beautiful and delicate but maybe, just maybe, stronger than they looked.

“Gwen, dear, do you have a moment?” Ruth had asked as the young blonde passed by the front desk on her way to the door. Smiling warmly, she nodded, pausing opposite the instructor. “Of course, is everything okay? I know I sort of went outside the lines of the brief today and that the arrangement leaned a little more winter than autumnal…” Her voice trailed off as Ruth waved her hand with a soft laugh. “There are no rules in flowers, dear. Your arrangement was beautiful any time of year.” She said, smiling warmly and reaching out her hand to take Gwen’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “That’s why I wanted to chat with you. I know it’s only been a couple weeks but I think you’re really gifted, Gwen. The flowers, they speak to you. I think you’re ready for my intermediate class. What do you think?” “Really?” Gwen blanched, color rising to her cheeks. Her gut instinct was to reject the offer and put herself down but she swallowed that urge. That learned behavior that told her she wasn’t good enough. Instead, she mustered up a proud smile and returned Ruth’s hand squeeze with one of her own. “Actually, yeah. The flowers do speak to me and they’re telling me I should.” 

[collecting-stories]

Cheat - Otis 'Brian' Zvonecek

Summary: After getting drinks with Adam, Otis gets the wrong impression.

Request: Brian accuses her of cheating on him when in reality they’re not even technically official but nevertheless he feels cheated on because he thought they were pretty damn solid regardless, He wants her all to himself but failed to make it clear.

A/N: I cannot tell you how nice it was to get back into writing something and posting on here. I know I've been trying to sporadically but it's been tricky with school and I finally felt like this week I had a little bit of time and just needed to write something.

banner by: @saradika

One Chicago Masterlist

Otis was a man on a mission. It wasn't exactly an important mission and it was, more or less, a mission of his own creating due 100% to the fact that he wasn't capable of articulating the sentence "do you want to date me" and Adam Ruzek, of all people, apparently was. The Adam Ruzek thing wasn't a definite, solid, actual thing as far as Otis could tell. It was more a spur of the moment thing if Shay was to be believed because, according to her, you had gone on a date with Adam after he had dropped by 51 with Antonio and, while there, asked you on a date. Because he could actually get the words across without fumbling them or overthinking all the ways that asking you out properly could go terribly wrong.

He knew this was technically all his fault and he knew that you weren't just going to wait around forever while he acted like you were a couple but didn't say that you were a couple. Still, when he saw you in the locker room that morning he felt like someone had driven a knife right through his back. His ears were practically ringing Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name" and he really wanted to throttle Adam. You were talking to Joe, laughing at something he said about Leon, and Otis turned right back around and stormed out of the room. 

"Brian!" "Otis!" Your voice mingled with Joe as you called after Otis' retreating form, frown etched on your face. 

You shut your locker, offering Joe a quick apology before heading off after Otis. Shay had mentioned that he looked upset last night at Molly's when she "unintentionally" mentioned that you and Ruzek were out on a date. You hadn't really wanted Otis to know, or rather you were going to mention it to him yourself, this morning, in case he took it the wrong way. 

"Brian!" You followed Otis out of the locker room and into the bunk room, rushing passed him and stopping him with a hand on his chest. "Wait, wait a second."

"I have to go check the truck-" he tried to move but you moved with him, blocking the path. 

You moved your hand from his chest to his wrist, dragging him into Matt's empty office and shutting the door. "We need to talk."

"I don't have anything to say," Otis replied, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out Mattt's office window, trying to look serious and not like he was pouting. "If you wanna see other people-"

"I don't wanna see other people Brian, would you let me explain?" You said, cutting him off. "I told Shay not to tell you that I was going out-"

"Knowing or not knowing, being cheated on-"

"I didn't cheat!" You practically shouted, "For the love of god, Brian, just listen to me!"

"I am listening."

"No, you're cutting me off every second and putting words in my mouth. I didn't cheat, I can't cheat. We," you gestured between the two of you, "aren't together. Regardless of that, I wasn't on a date with Adam...I'm friends with Kim and he wanted to talk. They're still trying to work things out."

"Oh," he deflated slightly, all the anxiety and anger he'd come into 51 with disappating in a matter of seconds. 

"That's it? Just oh?" 

"Shay said you were out with Adam and I'd seen you talking to him when he was here the other day...I just. When Shay mentioned it I...I don't know. I was just seeing green. I know we aren't but I mean...we-"

"If you want us to be then just say the word Brian," you replied. "I told you before that I had feelings for you, that hasn't changed." 

You had told him months ago that you liked him. It was terrible timing because he had just started going out with Severide's sister but you had waited it out and tried to be there for him solely as a friend and co-worker. That relationship had ended months ago though and Otis hadn't made any move to indicate that he was interested in more than friendship with you. There were signs, and you were pretty sure that Otis felt the same way about you he just hadn't said anything that definitely indicated that he wanted the two of you to be anything more than friends. 

"I just throught, you went out with Adam-"

"It wasn't a date, we just grabbed drinks-"

"You could've grabbed drinks at Molly's." Otis reasoned.

You groaned, leaning back against Matt's desk, "I feel like I'm talking in circles. I didn't go to Molly's because I didn't want everyone at 51 acting like I was on a date. We went to a bar in Canaryville. I know Adam, we're just friends, he's literally dating a friend of mine." 

"We're friends."

"Are we, cause you booked it out of the locker room and accused me of cheating on you but now you're going to say that we're friends? That's it? You get to be upset with me for having drinks with a friend of mine and I tell you that I still have feelings for and I haven't even thought about going out with anyone since before you and Katie broke up and you're going to hit me with 'we're friends'." You asked, voice rising slightly. "I will make this so simple for you Brian, do you like me?"

"Of course-"

"Would you actually date me? Not just hang out on off days cause cause we're friends but be with me, an actual defined relationship where I can introduce you to people as my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, yes," Otis replied quickly, "I wasn't sure how you felt after Katie and I broke up...if you were still interested or just wanted to be friends." 

Before you could say anything to him the door to the office opened, Matt standing there looking between the two of you, partially confused and partially amused. He'd heard from Joe that Otis had run out of the locker room and you'd gone after him but he wasn't expecting to see the two of you in his office.

"I hate to interrupt but I have actual woork to do...and I feel like I remember telling you to do truck inventory," Matt said, looking over at you curiously. 

"I was just heading over there now." You slipped passed Otis and Matt, the latter taking your place at his desk so he could sit down. Otis was still standing in the office, embarrassed and somewhat stuck on the conversation that had been abruptly interrupted. 

"Otis?" Matt asked. When he didn't answer, still staring at the door, Matt called his name again, "Otis."

After another beat Otis seemed to snap into action, apologizing to Matt as he hurried out of the office and through the bunk room. You were in the hallway, headed out to do the truck inventory that Matt had asked you to do that morning, when Otis stopped you. He mirrored your actions from earlier, rushing around in front of you and forcing you to stop walking so you didn't run into im. 

"Brian-" You started to say but Otis cut you off, grabbing your upper arms gently and kissing you. It didn't last long enough for you to even really register what was happening before he pulled away, dropping his hands and taking a step back. 

"Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't just kiss you without-"

You cut him off this time, grabbing him and kissing him the same way he had done to you. He kissed you back, niether of you aware of the fact that you were standing right in front of the common room and there was an audience of people sitting there staring at the two of you kissing. Or that Joe was handing Shay a twenty.

"I told you they'd get together in the firehouse," She said, smiling as she pocketed the money. 

[kalisburnerphone]

Only // Choi Seungcheol

Happy Birthday Cheol!!! You deserve everything good in the world.

Summary: Just a little glimpse into the life of Seungcheol and Solana.

Word Count: Unknown because I wrote this in the notes app on my phone but probably under 5k.

Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol x OC!Solana, established relationship, a tiny bit suggestive, Seungcheol on his pouty baby agenda, curve/plus-sized, foreigner!oc fluff, mentions of period and period sex, Seungcheol’s breeding kink is mentioned, they’re just in love tbh, pregnancy mentioned, slight handjob, allusions to sex, domesticity, teasing…I think that’s all.

N.B: This is in the same idolverse as my last Seungcheol piece but none of the parts are in chronological order. This couple will appear in other universes as I'm trying out this writing style and I also don't like writing from a first person pov. If I missed anything, let me know. Constructive criticism is welcomed. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the members of Seventeen and what they are like in reality.

At the sound of the front doors keypad being unlocked she ventures from her spot on the couch to greet the person she knows is about to appear once the door opens.

“Hey you.” He grins when he spots her. “why’re you still up?”

He questions pressing a quick peck to her lips before bending to take off his shoes. He tries to hide the jolt of pain he feels but she notices anyways, she always did. Their schedule had be jam packed since the concerts last weekend and soon they’d be on a plane to Japan for the remaining shows.

“I was working on that assignment when you texted so I decided I’d stay up. I haven’t seen much of you this week outside my phone screen.” He can hear the pout in her voice before he even looks at her and it’s honestly moments like these that Seungcheol is absolutely grateful that he gets to experience with her.

“I have a few days before we leave for Japan, I’m all yours.” He presses another kiss to her lips and lets her pull him behind her.

“I ran you a bath, go strip and get in. Have you eaten yet?” She asks as she lightly pushes him in the direction of their bedroom.

“Mhmm, we had team dinner. Join me?”

“Not tonight baby, shark week has started.”

“Okay,and? Y’know that’s not an issue.”

“Baby, you’re taking a bath not a shower. It’s not happening. Now, go strip and get in before the water gets too cold. I’ll come keep you company in a bit.” She compromises knowing fully well that he wouldn’t stay long in the bath if she didn’t at least sit with him.

Seungcheol seems satisfied with her answer as he lifts his hand to signal that he’s giving her five minutes to join him.Once he disappears down the hall she’s moving towards the couch and picking up her laptop, saving her assignments before powering it off. Kkuma had been staying with her uncle this past week as both her parents were extremely busy.

After the quick clean up, she’s turning off the lights just as Seungcheol calls out for her.

“I’m coming you big baby,” she teases making her way to the bedroom. She gets the little seat she uses at the vanity and takes it into the bathroom with her. She sets it down besides the tub, Seungcheol’s eyes never leaving her figure. Both arms resting on the edge of the tub used as support for his head as he watches her move around before she sits next to him with a little basket of their skincare products on the counter in front of her.

He sits quietly as she removes the days makeup from his face before applying his cleansing oil. After a few minutes she removes the oil using a warm,damp towel. They’ll have to finish the rest of steps once he’s done but it’s the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“How is it?”

“Hmm?” He hums out, much too preoccupied with the way her fingers are massaging his scalp.

“Your leg baby. I know you like putting up that shield of yours but we’re not going to pretend like I don’t know that you’re in pain. It’s been acting up since Saturday and I didn’t say anything because I figured you knew not to push yourself too much but, you’ve barely had time to rest lately.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you Cheol, I…I’m just worried. Carats are as well, I can’t begin to count how many videos I’ve seen this week of you being in pain after stages. As much as they love that you’re back and doing what you love baby, they’re also extremely worried and protective. I’m not asking you to promise me that you’ll be more careful, I just need you to try and remember to take it easy from time to time. Take a break,put your leg up and relax. Yes, your rehab went well and you made progress quickly but you gotta remember that you’re still healing and over exerting yourself won’t help.”

Both his cheeks are cupped in her hands as she looks at him. Seungcheol isn’t sure if she can see the literal hearts in his eyes but whatever she sees must have assured her that he’d gotten her message loud and clear because she’s pressing her lips to his for what feels like the first time this week.

She pulls away too quickly for Seungcheol’s liking and he’s left chasing her lips as she goes. “One more.” The little giggle that leaves her mouth has him smiling brightly and her thumbs lightly poking his dimples as they appear.

“You’re so whipped.” she teases lightly, pressing kisses everywhere except for where she knows he wants them. The water in the tub has gone cold but Seungcheol didn’t care.

“Like you aren’t as equally whipped, princess.” He teases back before he’s taking matters into his own hands and slotting his lips against hers. Her kisses are something he can never get enough of and he only ever pulls away once he’s satisfied with leaving her breathless.

“Lemme finish up here and I’ll come rub your tummy, I know those first day cramps are horrendous.” He says softly.

“Okay. Don’t forget to finish your skincare.” She reminds him before making her way back to the bedroom with her little seat.

Seungcheol can’t help the lovesick smile on his face as he gets out of the bath and drains the water before stepping into the shower to rinse off. He contemplates washing his hair but decides he’ll just do it the following morning and proceeds to finish up his skincare and brushing his teeth before entering the bedroom.

“Baby,”

“Hmm?”

“Was that a new oil? It smelled really good.” He informs as he’s in the middle of pulling on his boxers.

“Mhmm, Josh recommended it to me the last time we met up. It’s warm vanilla and something but it’s supposed to help you relax and sleep well. Did you like it?”

Seungcheol loved the way she interacted with his family. He remembers how skeptical he’d been about introducing her to them but all those worries had been for nothing as she fit right in with them,especially Jeonghan and Joshua. Three of them together was like having mischievous triplets who fed off each other’s energy and they often gave Seungcheol a run for his money but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“It’s nice, you should buy more.”

Once he’s got his pants on he’s joining her on their bed. Her phone is placed on her bedside table as she grabs a medium sized container and some other item he doesn’t quite notice.

“Up against the headboard, get settled.” She bosses him around as she grabs one of the extra pillows and props it up under his leg before twisting open the cover on the container.

“What’s that for?” He questions, knowing better than to protest against her doting on him. It’s not often that she’s this fussy over him openly but he guesses he owes it to her hormones being all over at the moment.

“Icy Hot,” she says showing him the front of the container. “It’ll help with pain relief in the muscles and joints around the area.”

She explains as she applies a generous amount to his leg before massaging it into the area softly. “It’ll be cold at first, once you feel it start heating up that’s how you know it’s working.”

Once that’s done she’s carefully lifting his leg from the pillow and sliding his knee band under before securing it in place as she’s done numerous times throughout his recovery. Seungcheol waits until the container is covered and placed back on the bedside table before he’s pulling her towards him.

“Wait! Lemme wash my hands first.” She laughs lightly wiggling her way out of her boyfriend’s grabby hands.

“Babyyy, hurry up. I’m cold.” Seungcheol whines out not even five minutes later and she can hear the pout that she knows is settled on his lips. She had already completed her nightly routine so once her hands are clean,she’s making her way back to bed and immediately being pulled onto her boyfriend’s lap before she can settle next to him.

“You and your manhandling tendencies.”

“Tendencies that you love, let’s not pretend now.” He teases pressing a kiss to her jaw before moving lower to her neck where he lingers a bit.

“No marks tonight, I have a shoot tomorrow and Yeji will kill me if she has to do damage control.” She informs him, one hand on his shoulder and the other tangled in the hair at the back of his head.

“Just one?” He rests his chin on her exposed cleavage, looking up at her with a pout that he knows usually gets him his way. Seungcheol knew she wouldn’t let him have her the way he wanted so he’d have something else.

“Nuh-uh. The last time you said just one Cheol, she asked if I was mauled. You get carried away and I’m not complaining because you know I love it but not when I have to shoot.”

“Fineee,” his pout is even deeper now. “but after shark week has ended, I’m having my way with you.”

“Threat or a promise?” She teases, one hand on his shoulder and the other in the hair at the the of his head. Seungcheol doesn’t give her an answer, he simply presses his lips against hers, hard.

It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and tongue and he thinks he’s got her in a position where he can sneak a mark or two but she’s pulling away much too soon for his liking.

“Babyyy.”

“Hmm?” She smiles giving his lips a few pecks before leaning in close to his ear. “You ain’t slick Choi.” she whispers with a lick to his earlobe before slipping off his lap and into her spot in bed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what do you want for your birthday this year?” She asks redirecting the conversation before he could pounce on her.

Seungcheol breathes out a heavy sigh and readjusts his length in his pants before turning on his side, head propped up on one hand as the other settles on her waist.

“I don’t need anything. Just wish me happy birthday at midnight and I’ll be fine with that.”

“Cheol, c’mon. There’s gotta be something you want. Last year you said the same thing but lit up like a child on Christmas when I got you that chrome hearts collection and now you’re obsessed with the brand. I’m only asking because I really don’t know what to get you this time.”

Seungcheol finds it cute how she’s now the one pouting at him. If he was being honest, there’s something that he wanted but he wasn’t sure how she’d react if those words ever left his mouth. It wasn’t something they’d spoken in detail about given the place they were both at in their careers but Seungcheol couldn’t help the thoughts that had been occupying his mind recently.

Thoughts of her plush stomach all round with his child, breasts heavy and full as she waddled around their home. It drove him a bit insane especially whenever he’s inside her, hoping that his seed will take and she’d make him a dad. As bad as it sounds he wished that damn implant was ineffective as he pumped her full of his cum, round after round.

“So there is something that you want.” He hears the teasing lithe in her tone but feigns innocence, telling her that he doesn’t know what she’s talking about and that he’ll be happy with whatever she gave him.

“Tell me.”

“Baby, there’s not—ohh fuckkk!” his eyes immediately lock with hers as she starts stroking his length over his pants, her palm pressing into the head when she reaches the tip.

Seungcheol chuckles in disbelief at the bratty little smirk displayed on her lips. Her hand slipping past the band of his sweatpants to continue her teasing. Lips brushing against his own as she whispers against them “tell me what you want,daddy.”

In a matter of seconds Seungcheol has her flat on her back as he hovers above her, one hand loosely wrapped around her throat before their lips meet. She nips at his bottom lip before licking it over and Cheol struggles to stop the moan that slips pass his lips as she continues pumping his throbbing length.

“You’re such a fucking tease, y’know that? Y’know, I’m trying to be respectful but you just love to test me like I won’t lay some towels down and fuck you the way I haven’t been able to in the last three weeks.” His fingers squeeze a little tighter around her neck and he huffs at her audacity to still be smirking at him.

“It’s okay though because as soon as shark week is over, I’m going to remember this moment right here and I’m going to have my way with you. Fuck you just the way you like it, round after round I’ll fuck you full of my seed until it sticks and you’re all round and full with my baby.” He whispers hotly in her ear.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” comes her quick witted response and once again Seungcheol is huffing in disbelief.

“You knew?”

“Like I said baby, you’re not slick. You forget just how well I know you sometimes and I saw you looking at baby clothes that you claimed were for Kkuma.”

The tips of his eyes are red as he buries his face in the crooks of her neck.

“I’m sorry. I know we haven’t talked about it seriously and both of our careers are really hectic right now but I can’t get rid of that feeling of being ready to take that step with you.” He speaks so softly that she wouldn’t have heard him if he weren’t so close to her ear.

“Hey, look at me.” both hands cupping his cheeks as he does as she asked. “there’s no reason for you to be sorry. I’ll have your babies, you know this. As long as it’s with you I know I’ll be okay. I guess what I’m trying to say is, once our schedules clear up a bit we can go to the doctor to get the implant out and we can start trying.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She can’t help the way his smile makes her smile as well. She’d do anything for him and if a baby is what he wants then that’s what he’ll get.

“You’re going to make me a dad? Give Kkuma a sibling?”

“That’s the plan baby, but until then, lay back let me fix the problem I created.

Solana smiles as she recalls that faithful night three months ago. She had gone to the doctor without Seungcheol while he was in Japan and had the implant removed. He was still unaware to that fact but that didn’t stop the new heights his breeding kink had soared to. True to his word, he’d had her ten ways to Sunday during the week they got off after Japan. On the balcony of his hotel room before and after their speech at the UN and many more after that which has brought them to this faithful moment.

It’s August 8th and Seungcheol’s 29th birthday. She’d wished him happy birthday at exactly midnight because lord knows he’d be pouting for the rest of the month if she didn’t and he’d had his way with her once again until the sun came up and they both drifted back to sleep.

She’d planned a simple birthday dinner with the boys, Kai and Nami. They had gathered at their favorite restaurant, a private room booked as they all ate and drank while telling stories and remembering their trainee days. As the evening goes on, Jeonghan and Joshua are the first to hand Seungcheol presents. One by one they all give him their gifts and watches as he opens them until she’s the only one left.

It’s a little blue box, quite smaller than the other gifts he’s gotten so Seungcheol’s not really sure what it is. Jeonghan however is sitting in the corner with a knowing smile on his face. He wasn’t stupid, he had picked up on the little things that seemed to fly right over Seungcheol’s head but he wouldn’t ruin that element of surprise for his best friend.And surprised Seungcheol is when he opens the box and pulls away the pink wrapping paper to reveal a small photo album.They’re all pictures from over the course of their relationship. From polaroids to instant photo booth pictures, there was a memory attached to each for every month of the last five years.

Seungcheol’s eyes are immediately finding hers once he gets to the last page of the album. “This is real, right? You’re not fucking with me?”

She shakes her head and smiles at him mouthing surprise as Seungcheol drops the box and album onto the table before pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She’s the first to pull back when she feels something wet hit her cheeks.

“Yah, why’re you crying?” She laughs lightly followed by a sniffle of her own.

“I’m happy, so fucking happy. Thank you and I love you. You and the little bean growing inside of you.” He smiles sniffling a little.

“No.Fucking.Way. Jeonghan hyung wasn’t lying.”

They’re both pulled out of their little bubble by Mingyu’s surprised outburst as they all circle around the open album on the table that shows an ultrasound with the title:

Baby Choi 2025 ♥️

[catiuskaa]

[03:36 am] 🍶

WC: 2.3k

CW: nsfw content ahead! use of pet names: sugar, baby, they’re both drunk but its consensual, and I think that’s all, have fun lol

A/N: hannie brain rot due to exam week, fml but let him do it [and hAVE YOU SEEN THE COMEBACK TRAILERS I AM DROOLING FOR THESE MEN]

[☆☆☆☆☆]

You looked around the club, everyone was either drunk, high, or just plain out stoned. Thanks to the rain outside, you were wearing a now wet shirt, so your black laced bra was very clear to see. You walked up to the bartender, asking for a shot of whiskey. You got your drink and watched the big group of people dancing in the centre of the nightclub while others played it cool sitting on the tables at the sides when your eyes locked with a certain someone at a table a bit far from where you were.

Han’s dark eyes locked onto yours, staring intensely, as if a secret was held in them. Three or four people were on his side attempting to grab his attention, from the distance it looked like they were practically begging for it. Since you had it already, you decided to mess with him. You took a quick sip of the shot glass, licking the rim slowly while keeping your eyes on his. You bit your lip softly, then smiled slightly. At this, you could see a little flare in his eyes, his once earnest face turned into a somewhat cocky devilish smirk.

Putting the glass down, without moving your eyes from his, you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, your skin slightly glowy due to how damp the clothes were. You winked at him, to which he laughed as you took the shirt off, tied it around your waist and got up from your seat, leaving the club, feeling his eyes on your every step.

You’ve entered the same bar, walking down the sidewalk a couple of days later after that exciting meeting with him, although nothing had happened. He never ran after you, although you silently hoped he would’ve.

You've tried the old-fashion, vanilla style, and —not to be offensive towards your exes— but it had been a bit… boring? Plain? You didn’t know, for some reason it didn’t feel just right. You decided to switch it up a bit, and even though it was pushing you out of your comfort zone, what could go wrong with a one-night stand?

You continued walking until you were suddenly grabbed from behind, a hand gripping your waist softly yet in a decisive approach.

“Still want to keep playing, Sugar?” A low, somewhat raspy voice said close to your ear. “I’m up for the next level.”

His hand moved you into his chest, your hands lying on him, as you started not-so-subtly touching and feeling up the toned body you stumbled upon.

“Should I say insert a coin, then?” You joked, chin up close to his face so he could hear you over the music that blasted the place, although it wasn’t too bad where you were.

Han sort of laughed, even though he just breathed slightly harder through his nostrils. “I can think of several things to insert in some places, but still... a coin isn’t on the list, baby."

You both could tell each other's dizzy state (a generous way to put it, actually), but truth be told, there was only one outcome of that encounter that could make both of you forget that small detail.

"So, actually..." you started, hands trailing made-up patterns on his chest and shoulders. "Tell me, pretty boy, how do I politely ask you to pin me up against a wall and make out with me?" you giggled.

"I'd say that's a decent start." He laughed, finally closing that stupid distance between his and your lips.

It wasn't cute nor slow or anything you were used to, and probably that's what made goosebumps trail up and down your body. He kissed you like a starved man as if you were the last water source in a heated desert. Hungrily, tongues fighting for dominance in between the hurricanes you felt running through your body.

You bit his lip as you stepped away, a blush clearly not made with makeup.

“Fuck, no, come back,” he whispered.

He directed one of his hands to your chin and pulled you to him in a sudden action.

Yeah, that could easily make you forget about alcohol levels.

[☆☆☆☆☆]

You didn’t know exactly how the situation changed so fast. You had arrived at his house, where he had picked you up and sat you on the first surface he approached. 

“Sugarcube.” He mentioned breathlessly, breaking the kiss. His pupils dilatated, brown almost gone in them, lips red and swollen just because of you. 

You sighed, not knowing when you had stopped breathing. 

"Mhmm?" 

His two fingers started tapping your thighs, in that motion where it looks like they’re walking, closer and closer to the edge of your dress. His other hand held your head up by your cheek. 

“Do I have your consent?” Han asked, and he knew he would’ve respected anything you could answer. “Are you sure?”

Your fuzzy brain from all the drinking and kissing thought about it for a second, all that could come out was a sort of chant in your ears.

Yes, yes, yes.

Instead, you smirked. “Am I ever.” His breath hitched when you grabbed his belt and pulled. “For all I care, ruin me, pretty boy,” you murmured on his lips. 

His eyes looked black now.

“Fuck.” 

He’d kissed you relentlessly as he slowly tempted to take your dress off. You complied, smiling in excitement. He admired your dark-coloured lace, one that made the perfect contrast with your skin tone. 

Mine, mine, mine.

That’s what you can acknowledge so that the moment you are now can make sense. You snorted when he started tying up a blindfold on you. You could only hear, smell, and speak, the latter only when you were allowed to. 

“Here, Sugar.” 

He took your hand and lead your blinded self through his apartment. He started kissing you again, biting, licking, making you feel like Hell’s heat had risen just for your pleasure as he made your entire body feel like you had lava instead of blood. 

Hot, hot, hot.  

He suddenly pushed you with him, making you fall on him, both making out on his bed now. Pinning you down, leaving you to the edge of begging for something, you felt small fabric pieces being tied up to your ankles. You hear nothing for a bit before hearing footsteps and then the squeal that the bed made when he grabbed your calves and pulled you to the border of the bed.

"You've got a lot of nerves, Sugar, doing what you did at the club the other day. No matter how much I fucked all those other bitches, you kept repeating the same thing in my mind. I could kill you for that." Han said, voice dark and deep traced with lust and raw desire.

"Well, if you killed me, we wouldn't be able to have fun, and you would have a dead girl in your mind," you stated with a smirk.

You heard a chuckle and then felt a hand on your cheek.

"Normally, considering your situation, people would start screaming for their lives. But you said something cocky. I like that." He started stroking your body, playing with the laces of your remaining clothes. "For some reason, you still don’t strike me up as someone who would agree to this.” You feel him bending down, trailing open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, clearly avoiding that one spot where both of you knew you need him the most. You shivered, holding back a needy whine. Fuck, you’ve never felt so turned on in your life, you have to try so ridiculously hard to focus on what he’s saying rather than what he’s doing. 

“It’s sexy that you’re letting me do this, but, why are you here?" He whispers above your lips.

You can feel his breath on your skin, practically tasting the flavours of his drink in your mouth already.

"I was bored, and you looked bored," you murmured. “Thought we could change it up a bit for the other one.”

He chuckled. “Damn right, Sugar.” And with that, he kissed you, not gently either. A hard, desperate kiss. You leaned back into the bed.

You couldn’t see it, but in a sudden motion, he pulled from the blindfold and shoved it somewhere else, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you got used to the faint light that came from some other room. His eyes looked into yours as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. His eyes were dark, so dark it was as if they could fuck you themselves.

You feel heat hit you where you're restrained. You tried moving your legs but failed, and he smiled into the kiss, leaning more and more over you. Still, your hands were free, so you wrapped them around his neck, holding him close. He picks you up from your thighs, touching, groping, slapping, shoving you against the bed. You break out of the kiss, lifting your head up, hissing at the amount of sensations hitting you so pleasantly. He takes this opportunity to get your neck. Biting it.

He basically tears off your remaining clothes. You don't pay attention to the accidental scratches he left, in fact, it felt wonderful to you. He smirks at the approving moans you give him when he notices what he did.

You feel like it couldn’t get any better right at the moment when he finds a wonderful place to insert one of his fingers in. 

You bit your lip to keep quiet, just like you’re used to. At this, Han suddenly stops and whispers in your ear.

"No, baby. For tonight at least, you're mine. At the end of this night, I want all of the neighbourhood to know that I fucked a woman so hot. We’re home alone, and you know it already, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, Sugar." And so you do, you let out the largest moan you've ever had in your life.  

No one and I mean no one, no boyfriend, no normal working boy and not even yourself has ever made you feel this good.

He doesn’t acknowledge how the fuck he’s taking off his clothes so quickly, before pinning you back down again. He caresses your sides, as you caress his back, and then his abs. He moves closer to your ear, groaning slightly when you get a hold of him.

"I'm going to eat you alive," he growls.

You chuckle at this, whispering back.

"I'm waiting."

[☆☆☆☆☆]

When you wake up, you feel Han holding you close.

You could swear you passed out. You don't remember how many rounds you had, all you know is that you're sore. You lift the blankets, hissing at the marks you have. Jisung opens his eyes looking at you getting out of bed. You get off the bed slowly, one, because you're in pain, and two, because you like it when he watches you.

"Has anyone fucked you that good?" he asks.

"Actually, I think my ex was a bit better than you," You tease, without looking at him, but you know he can see your smirk —and your weak stance that screams your deception—.

He's quiet for a bit. He sits up a bit looking at you while you pick up your broken panties. You curse under your breath slightly.

"You might want to leave some of your clothes here," he mentions roughly.

You look over your shoulder at him. The smirk is still on your face.

 "Why?"

He looks at you, eyes as intense as they were last night and also gets out of bed just to grab your arm and make you both fall on the mattress as he, in a sudden motion, pins you down.

"I haven't had enough of you yet."

Fuck one-night stands.

You had thee Han Jisung now.

[☆☆☆☆☆]

P.S. Did you notice it? Lil' something for you, Sugar ;)

~Kats, who wrote 3:36 not because of time, but because Red Lights is exactly 3 minutes and 36 seconds.

[millie-mar]

the stranger things i hate about you

chapter two: eddie ‘the freak’ munson

| 1,4k words | 10 things i hate about you!steddie |

The canteen ‘whispers’ and sounds of trays smacking the tables were always calming for Eddie. Considering the fact that most of his school life he has been alone and couldn’t even get a spot at a table in Hawkins High, the sound of the school’s canteen was a kind of reminder of how far he’s come. That paired with the excited chatter coming from his comrades at the table was enough for him to feel accomplished. In the past year he’s gained friends for life, thanks to his role-play gaming club and the band he’s put together with ‘the outcasts’ of Hawkins High, Gareth, Jeff and F. Maybe by the end of this year, which happens to be his last, he’ll become school’s new icon. Well, it is just his wishful thinking. He creates those little scenarios where he turns from a ‘nobody’ into someone big in a span of a couple weeks. All the while he’s actually playing with what is presumably mac and cheese.

Eddie’s friends can see that lately, their ‘leader’ has been more in thought than usual. Of course, Eddie Munson is known for constantly being in his own world, but not to the point where he doesn’t even react to Dustin Henderson trying to look into the notes for their DnD campaign. The group suspects that either something bad has happened, or Eddie is dating someone. The latter has caused the group to laugh when discussing the matter, they haven’t seen him with anyone, ever.

‘Eddie, my man, you good?’ Gareth asks.

‘Yeah’ is Eddie’s only reply, he’s clearly not in the mood for casual talk today.

‘It’s just that, you suddenly went all gloomy on us,’ Mike chips in, putting a fry in his mouth. Dustin steals some from Wheeler’s tray, causing the boy to slap him on the arm.

Usually in situations like that, Eddie would be the first to stop the youngest members of the group, but something else has caught his attention.

‘See, you’re even ignoring the Mike-Dustin bitch-slapping. What the hell’s going on Munson?’ Gareth keeps pressing, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but he gets nothing. Eddie is so engrossed in whatever got in his sight, nothing could get his attention off it.

Gareth follows Eddie’s line of sight, catching a glimpse of a tall, dark-blonde, ex-star of the basketball team. He leaned in, whispering to Eddie.

‘We’ve talked about this. Steve Harrington is another one of these jackasses who think they’re better than anyone else’ Gareth tries to be as quiet as possible so that no one from the table could hear him, but Eddie.

‘I know.’ It’s like Eddie has woken up from a dream, back to the dreary reality. He’s fully aware of what Steve Harrington has done to him. Well, he hasn’t hurt Munson physically, but his general snarky comments did leave a dent in his mind.

‘Wow, he’s alive.’ Gareth snarls, his brown curls caught in his eyes as he turns his head away.

‘Real funny, Gary.’ The tension between the two is so thick, it attracts the attention from the rest of the table. ‘Just because that’s the reality doesn’t mean I can’t wonder what could have happened if things were different. You know I have a wild imagination.’ Eddie flashes a fake smile at his best friend. He puts the fork in his still full plate, gets up and starts walking away. ‘See u guys seven.’ He waves, his back to their table, and leaves the canteen.

Trees loom over the school area, separating it from the rest of the world, yet another prison for Eddie. He has been arrested at least twice since reaching his adulthood last year, and thanks to that he can confirm that school is just a prison with more pleasant looking surroundings. Maybe that’s why he cannot escape his bad habits of selling and smoking weed in the woods behind the building. It has been his trading spot since he’s started the business at the beginning of junior year. Being penniless in his late teens has led him to this easy and quick job and he couldn’t stop since.

The spot in the woods has also become a place where Eddie can be alone. He can overthink and smoke all he wants without being interrupted. So when he arrives at his table, he’s quick to take out the last joint he has, and light it up as quickly as possible. However he hasn’t realised one thing; he’s not alone.

Steve could feel someone watching him in canteen earlier, but he didn’t care to look, too afraid of others’ judgement. He just kept walking, wondering how to get Eddie Munson to as much as talk to him, not even thinking about getting the guy to hang out with him. Steve knows Eddie hasn’t forgotten the damage Tommy’s group, including him, has caused. Wouldn’t what he’s going to do cause even more? Technically Steve wants to apologise and befriend the guy, so misunderstood and anxious. Steve can understand that much, considering himself to be in the same situation Eddie has once been, but he can’t tell him that. It’d only anger him.

Steve anxiously wanders the school corridor, back and forth, constantly passing the doors to the canteen he has gone through not so long ago. He stops abruptly and walks back to them, opening them slightly and peeking in. He scans the heads at the tables, finally catching a glimpse of dark curls, their owner leaving the room, waving his hand to someone. Steve, not sure who the recipient is, adds a mental note for himself to check who Eddie hangs out with, that’d make his objective a lot easier. He considers entering the canteen again to follow him, but the fear of others acknowledging his presence is too overwhelming, so he decides to go the round way, having a slight idea of where Eddie could have gone.

That’s how Steve arrives in the woods behind the school, a place for the druggies of Hawkins High. Usually he’s staying away from this spot, it wouldn’t have been good for his ‘good guy’ reputation. Not that it matters anymore, which is why he walks through the narrow path, covered by the branches and a bit of high grass. A small streak of light almost guiding the way to the spot where students of Hawkins High can buy drugs from no other than Eddie himself.

Taking each step as quietly as he can, Steve arrives at his destination, standing behind a tree and scanning the area to find Eddie sitting on a picnic table. A cloud of smoke surrounding the guy, scent so strong, Steve can smell it from where he is hiding. A delicate wind is causing Eddie’s dark curls to float everywhere uncontrollably, his nose scrunching in annoyance, hands covered in many silver rings trying to calm the mess on his head. Steve pays attention to all the smallest details in this guy's behaviour, all his small mannerisms like constant turning of the ring on his index finger, or how he leans back on the table, arms supporting him behind his back, a joint between his teeth, but no smoke coming out. He’s just taking deep breaths and keeping them in for a bit before breathing out slowly, taking his time. Steve is not sure how long he’s been here, staring at him, but he feels like he can’t approach him now. A weird feeling of embarrassment washing over him. So the blonde takes a step back, a loud crunch echoes against the silence, the sound bouncing off the trees. A quiet ‘fuck’ escapes him before he hears Eddie’s voice calling out to him.

‘Who’s there? If you want to buy shit, you have to tell me in advance. Didn’t bring anything with me.’ Eddie’s quick to assume, considering the only people that would come to a place so clearly regarded as his were druggies in dire need of an escape from this shitty world. His words not mine.

Without a word, Steve steps out from his hiding spot, coming face to face with Eddie Munson for the first time in two years. His palms start to sweat as he looks anywhere but at the guy in front of him.

Eddie is doing quite the opposite, staring at the boy intensely. ‘Fuck me, my eyes must be deceiving me. If this isn’t Steve Fucking Harrington.’

Eddie, so shocked seeing the blonde, doesn’t even realise he dropped the joint. However Steve realises immediately, and he watches the roach die out among leaves and grass, like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, all the while wondering, what has he gotten himself into?

|also sorry for any mistakes, english isn’t my first language|

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[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

--------------------

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[azertyrobaz]

I can't write Comfortember without revisiting my comfort pairing: Mandomera. So here's a little extra moment at the end of Satellites, although you don't need to have read the story to enjoy it: in this modern AU, Din and 12 year old Grogu have recently been reunited and are figuring out how to be a family again. And maybe a trip to Sorgan might help them!

As always, prompts are here if you want to have a look. And the ao3 collections is located there.

Enjoy!

************

The kid had been very insistent. And patient. Well, somewhat patient. As in, he’d given him just enough time to be able to drive for a couple of hours without feeling excruciating pain in his right side. Not that he had shared any of that with him – he didn’t need to know. The sooner Grogu thought he was healed, the better. And Din knew he was almost there. After all, he’d been injured a few times in the past, he knew his own body. And yet he still found himself making excuses. ‘Maybe next weekend’ or ‘You sure you checked they weren’t too busy?’ or even ‘I have to work, sorry’. That last one didn’t go over so well, as the twelve-year-old had been quick to point that if he was well enough to work, he was certainly well enough to drive to Sorgan.

No, there was no point denying it: he was dragging his feet. Truth be told, he was more than a little apprehensive. It was a specific kind of unease that the pain killers he still allowed himself some nights didn’t seem to be able to shift. He wasn’t sure the kid realized how he had left things with Omera eight years back. And he didn’t think he wanted to have that conversation with him. Or anyone, for that matter.

Those two months in Sorgan had meant something. And then it had ended in the blink of an eye. He rarely allowed himself to think about that time, but sometimes his mind wandered. Sometimes he just found himself daydreaming. And it was…nice. It was enough. It had to be enough. There was no point trying to recreate something and risk damaging those precious memories in the process. They belonged in the past. And why would she even still –

“It’s settled – Winta’s off for university in two weeks, so we have to go this weekend. She needs the laptop I promised her. They’re free and happy to see us, and Carson said he didn’t need you on a job, I double-checked.”

Grogu had covered everything. Of course he had. Dammit.

“So…can we go?”

That hopeful look in his eyes. Winta was his friend. And after all the shit he’d put him through recently, he owed him that. A lot more than that, really. His feelings had to come second. That was what being a parent was like. Had to be like. Otherwise why bother?

“Sure,” Din replied.

They drove in silence, for the most part. Which he thought was normal until the boy asked him the one question he didn’t want to answer.

“Does your arm still hurt?”

He’d broken his collarbone and right humerus a month or so back. Keeping his arm in a set position for more than ten seconds sent shooting pain all throughout his side. Driving was therefore not at the top of the list of his favorite activities right now.

“It’s not that bad,” he settled on saying – not an actual lie, he was making progress.

“Are you nervous about seeing Omera again?”

That previous question about his arm hadn’t been the worse he could ask him – this was. He floundered for an answer and missed the tiny smile on Grogu’s face.

“You shouldn’t be,” his son added before he had time to come up with something remotely truthful. “Winta said her mom was looking forward to seeing you, too.”

And?

Silence.

“Oh?” Din attempted a few seconds later, to no avail. He wanted to know what she had said exactly. But he didn’t want to have to ask. Din focused on the road again. Tried to, at least. Let the pain in his side distract him just enough.

“And she’s probably nervous too, you know. It’s been a long time.”

Din greeted his teeth and clasped the steering wheel a little tighter. Was it too late to turn around?

“Yeah,” he breathed. Eight years was an eternity. This was stupid. He couldn’t let himself hope for a happy reunion. She wouldn’t still –

And yet when they finally reached the old house at the end of the long wooded track an hour later, the pain in his side completely eclipsed by an overpowering feeling of doomed anticipation, Din felt his heart settle. When he saw her face he knew.

Yes, she still did.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Downward Spiral

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 7, Managing work-life balance as a superhero is hard in the best of times.

These are not the best of times.

Author's Note: So turns out, this didn't take nearly as long as I expected and there also aren't nearly as many chapters as I expected there to be (just three), so uh, here's the first chapter! Have fun with it like Danny won't!

...

At an actually decent suggestion from Jazz, Danny starts going home before going on patrol, just because too often if he tries to patrol first, he misses his much earlier much stricter curfew, and he really can’t afford to do that right now.

Jazz comes with him a lot of the time.  She brings a thermos or strategies in regards to the ghosts they’re most likely to find.  She catches the ghost sometimes, and Danny always feels grateful that her aim has gotten better.  Ghost fighting is more than a little easier with backup.

Tonight, however, nothing much helps, as there’s so many ghosts out and about it doesn’t matter how efficient or well-planned they are, they still get home after midnight.  Danny phases them both through the walls and up to his bedroom, and then collapses onto his bed and changes back without moving.

“That’s it,” he groans.  “I’m sleeping for a week.”

“Unfortunately we still have school tomorrow,” Jazz says, but he can tell she’s exhausted too.  She flops down on the bed next to Danny, but doesn’t bother looking at him as she keeps talking.  “At least it’s almost Friday.”

Danny manages a weak laugh.  “Never thought I’d live to see the day you’d be excited to see the weekend,” he says.

“I’m excited to be well rested,” Jazz mutters, and Danny looks over to find her eyes are already shut and she seems half asleep already.  He doesn’t want to make her move when they’re both this tired, but he doesn’t know if he has the strength to walk to her bedroom either.  So instead, they both end up falling asleep sideways on the bed, with Danny having just enough time to shove the thermos under his pillow to deal with in the morning before he passes out too.

…

A knock on his door wakes them both, but there’s barely any pause before it opens and Mom walks quickly in, looking nervous about something.

“Danny have you seen— oh, Jazz, you’re in here!”

Danny blinks blearily, trying to push himself upwards.

“Sorry Mom,” Jazz says, already awake and two steps ahead like usual.  “I was helping Danny study last night, and we both just kind of fell asleep.”

“Oh no worries, sweetie, I just didn’t know where you were,” Mom says.  And Danny expects that to be the end of it, but instead Jazz stands up and walks across the room, then gives Mom a quick hug.

Danny blinks in surprise, but Mom hugs Jazz tightly back for a second before giving her a smile and heading back out, with a call that she’d see them downstairs for breakfast.

“Uh, you guys good?” Danny asks, and Jazz turns to face him, blinking a couple times.  Maybe she’s not as awake as he thought she was.

“Oh, Mom and Dad just get more nervous when they don’t know where we are now,” Jazz says.  “That’s why I suggested coming home before patrol.  It’s not your fault, but we shouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Danny narrows his eyes in concern.  “That’s why you suggested coming home before patrol?”

“Well, that and it’s generally easier to patrol if we’ve already had dinner,” Jazz says.  “It’s really okay, Danny.  Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I wasn’t,” Danny says, sitting upwards and stretching his arms above his head in an effort to wake himself up.  “Meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

“Sure thing,” Jazz says, heading out to her own room.

Danny still isn’t quite awake when he does make it downstairs, but he sort of feels like he can make it through the day while feeling only slightly like a zombie.  As long as nothing happens, anyway, like Dash getting on his case or some large assignment being given or another ghost attack.

Oh who is he kidding, he’s doomed.

Someone nudges him in the shoulder, and Danny turns to see Jazz approaching from his side.  “I can drive you to school today if you want,” she says.  “Just so you don’t have to rush quite as much.”

“Yes please,” Danny says.  “You’re a lifesaver.”  He grabs one of the pieces of toast sitting on the plate in the center of the table, then takes a bite without bothering to put any butter or jam on it.

He manages to get ready with just a little time to spare, which gives him time to grab the thermos and head down to the lab.  Danny manages to send the ghosts stuffed into the thermos through the portal back into the ghost zone, where they’ll hopefully be for a while.

He’s about to turn around and head back upstairs when he hears the lab door open, and he freezes.

“Danny?” Mom asks, as she walks down the steps.  “What are you doing in the lab, don’t you need to be getting ready for school.”

“Uh, I think I left a pencil down here when I was cleaning,” Danny says, turning to the nearby cluttered lab table as an excuse, and starting to shift through papers.

Mom looks around with a raised eyebrow, lingering on the messy tables and scattered papers and beakers.  “Maybe you should take another crack at the cleaning part,” she says.

“Uh, totally,” Danny says, grabbing the first pencil he lands on and heading back upstairs.  “You got it Mom!  Sorry, I was just super busy with studying.”

“No, that’s alright, hun, studies come first.  Just make sure you make some time to do your chores too, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Danny calls as he runs back up the stairs.  He waits until he’s out of earshot to mutter to himself, “I’ll add it to the list of priorities, right under the ghost fighting.”

He shakes it off and moves to grab his bag, then heads out front to meet Jazz, who’s already waiting in the car.

“Ghosts taken care of?” she asks as Danny shuts the door.

“Yep,” Danny says as she pulls away.  “Thanks for the ride.  I don’t think I would have had time otherwise.”

“No problem.  I love it when there isn’t a thermos full of malicious entities stuck under your pillow all day.”

“It is one of my favorite decorative habits,” Danny says, giving an admittedly still exhausted smirk.

Apparently a little more exhausted than he thought, because he ends up falling asleep on the way to school, and Jazz shakes him awake when they get there.

“You sure you’re up for this?” she asks as Danny drags himself and his bag from the car.

“So up for this,” Danny says, waving her off.  “I’m gonna take a nap in homeroom and probably during lunch.  I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” Jazz says.  “If you’re sure.”

“I’m definitely not.  How are you so awake by the way, that’s not even fair.”

“I wasn’t the one that did all of the actual fighting last night,” Jazz says as they start towards the school.  “And I also have a good sleep schedule the rest of the time.”

“Good sleep schedules are for chumps.”

“Yeah see, that’s probably part of your problem.”

“Bah.”

They split up as Danny reaches homeroom, where he does in fact put his head on his desk and sleep until the bell rings again.

He really can’t afford to sleep through his algebra class, though.  That one had taken the biggest hit while he’d been off doing crimes for Freakshow, and algebra has never been his strong suit.  He’s managed to get his grade back up to a somewhat decent C-, but it’s a shaky C-, one he can’t afford to slack on.  So in passing period, he splashes some water on his face, smacks himself in the face a couple of times, and then heads in to force himself to focus on numbers.

He sits near the window next to Tucker, who has algebra the same time as him, and who looks significantly less exhausted than he does, which is probably why he feels okay with whispering to him as class starts.

“Hey, did you get the homework done?”

Danny’s head snaps over to him.  “What?”

There isn’t homework due today, is there?  How did he forget that?

Oh, what does it matter?  He wouldn’t have had time to do it last night anyway, between getting slammed into concrete walls, or through store windows, or into other ghosts.

Tucker, next to him, holds up an entire packet of quadratic equations, all of which he’s done, and all of which look complicated.

Danny slams his head down on his desk.  “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Sorry dude,” Tucker says with a sympathetic frown.

Danny looks hopefully towards him.  “Could you help me make it up after school?”

Tucker winces, which doesn’t seem to bode well for his chances.

“Uh, sorry,” he says, looking away.  “Sam wants to, uh, do a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, at the park.  And you’re still grounded, so…”

Danny sighs, looking back at his desk.  “Right, yeah.  Thanks anyway.”

Tucker doesn’t say anything, and then the bell rings, and the teacher up front calls for everyone to pass in their homework.

There’s a two day late policy which doesn’t make exceptions for the weekend, meaning Danny’s gonna have to figure out some way to get it done today so he can turn it in tomorrow.  Maybe he actually will be up late to study that night.  Ghost fighting comes before homework, but homework tends to find a way to come before sleep.

And if he doesn’t want to piss off his mom, he’s gotta fit cleaning the lab in there somewhere.

Whatever, he can sleep all day Saturday.  It’ll be fine.  He’s grounded anyway.

…

Lunch seems to take forever to get there, and by the time Danny finally makes it to their usual table, Sam and Tucker are already there and talking.  Danny sets his tray down, then drops his backpack down on the table next to it and buries his head in it.

“Late night?” Sam asks.

Danny makes a grumbled noise of agreement.

“I thought you caught up on all your homework from being gone.”

“That does not stop me from forgetting about new homework, apparently,” Danny says, managing to pull his head up.

“Yikes,” Sam says.  “Good luck with that.”

“I’m gonna need it,” Danny mutters.  He grabs the apple from his tray and takes a bite a split second before he remembers why he doesn’t eat the terrible mealy school apples and spits it back out onto the tray.

“Geez Danny, you think you could try being a functional human today?” Sam asks, pulling her tray back towards her.

“Apparently not,” Danny says, giving a short laugh.  He covers the bite of the apple with a napkin to throw away when he finishes the rest of it.  “Sorry Sam, I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I can tell,” Sam says with a roll of her eyes.  There was a short pause before Sam says, “You’re not alone in that, though.  There were ghosts fighting all night, they kept waking me up.”

Danny winces.  “Sorry, Sam.  That sucks,” he says.

“I bet it was Invis-o-bill again,” Sam says, turning to look at Tucker, probably trying to include him in the conversation, since he’s been pretty quiet through most of lunch, looking down at his PDA.  “Did you guys see how much damage he caused last night?  He needs to pay more attention.”  She nudges Tucker.  “He woke you up too, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tucker says, looking down and tapping something on his PDA.

Danny doesn’t say anything, and instead takes a drink of his chocolate milk.  He probably should have paid more attention last night.  He and Jazz have been trying to cut down on the property damage as a way to help his image a bit.  The only problem being last night he was still out fighting at 11PM and he was achy and exhausted.  He’s still achy and exhausted.

Still, if Sam’s noticed that’s a problem.  The main point for all of this is to show her Phantom in a new light.  If that’s not working, then he needs to be doing something he’s not.

“I’m just saying,” Sam says to Tucker, apparently taking his agreement as more than it seemed to Danny.  “I’m getting a little tired of not getting enough sleep just because of a bunch of stupid ghosts.”

Danny snorts, taking another sip of milk to cover it as a cough.  That makes two of them.

Sam drops the ghost fighting after that, but Danny has trouble shaking off the sour tinge it adds to his mood for the rest of lunch.  He tries to reason his way out of feeling crummy about it while walking to his next class.

Of course Sam’s irritated she didn’t sleep well.  Danny’s irritated he didn’t sleep well too.  And of course she blamed it on Phantom.  That’s nothing new for her.  He’s just not in a great mood because he’s tired, and things will be more bearable tomorrow.

...

Chapter Two

[tolietpaperdreams]

HYSTERIA CHAPTER 3

You’ll be happy to know that I'm a liar 🫶🏻

Got a little carried away, and Hysteria is now going to be four parts! How exciting, hope everyone likes angst cause this chapter is FULL of it.

Thank you for reading as always love ya 💕

New couples always seemed to have the habit of not being able to keep their hands off of each other. Bret and Shawn were no exception to that. Bret specifically, found a libido that he thought he’d lost.

He was enamored with Shawn’s body, every reaction and noise the blonde made to his touches drove him wild. If he wasn’t thinking about work, he was thinking about the next position he could put Shawn in.

At first, no one else seemed to notice or care that Bret and Shawn would sneak off to the supply closet or how neither of them wanted to go out and party after a show, instead rushing back to the hotel room to celebrate by themselves.

Everything was fine until Scott came into the locker room one day pissed about how he couldn't sleep the night before.

“I swear to god man, all I could hear was ‘Ohhh don't stop Bret!! Your dick is so big!! Keep fucking me oohhhh my gooood!!’” Scott mocked Shawn’s voice as high-pitched and girlie, but he got the point across.

Bret wasn't as comfortable talking about his sex life in front of the others as Shawn was. He didn't seem to care at all if he was getting made fun of by his friends, but maybe that was just how comfortable they all were with each other. Just sitting there listening to Scott describe in detail everything he heard made Bret’s face feel hot.

He hadn't even told Owen, Jim, or Davey what had been going on yet. It was obvious that Owen had his suspicions, his little brother knew him better than most and could tell there was a reason that Bret didn't seem as miserable. Jim and Davey on the other hand were sort of bitter that Bret hadn't been hanging around as much, only showing up when they were working or traveling. It had only been a few weeks, but he still felt bad about the distance.

“I’ve walked into the showers and Bret’s tongue has been all the way down Shawn’s asshole, and you're complaining about some moaning?” Kevin retorted, shivering at the memory.

Bret felt the color drain from his face. That was not something he had planned on reliving anytime soon. It was an accident. Sort of.

After a particularly fun house show one night, Bret was feeling a little adventurous. He'd never tried it before and Shawn wasn't going to say no to something that felt good. Kevin just walked into the showers at a horrible time.

The act itself was fantastic, it was just Kevin’s screams of horror that made Bret’s skin crawl at the memory. He still took Shawn back to the hotel that night and finished the job.

“Okay okay,” Shawn said chuckling and waving his hands in surrender, “That's enough about my asshole.”

Bret let out a sigh of relief.

“But it’s such a hot topic around here lately,” Hunter added conveniently as he walked into the locker room.

“You’d know wouldn't you?” Kid nodded in Hunter’s direction.

Bret really hoped that was a joke because the last thing he needed was to suddenly start acting jealous around Shawn’s friends. He liked Hunter and thought he was a good guy with a level head on his shoulders, but Bret didn't share very well.

Shawn must have sensed the quick shift in Bret’s demeanor so he reached over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “They’re stupid.”

Squeezing back, Bret returned the smile. He trusted Shawn and his friends weren't bad, maybe a little immature for his taste, but they had each other’s backs.

“No, but I would know what your mom’s looks like,” Hunter jabbed back, earning a punch on his shoulder from Kid.

Hunter laughed and rubbed his shoulder before continuing, “Anyways, the boss wants to see you two,” he pointed in Bret and Shawn’s direction.

Kevin broke the long silence that followed, “That can't be good.”

***

The time had come. Bret knew it was coming eventually, but he’d spent so much time shoving it into the back of his brain with everything else going on that it hadn't been a major factor up until now.

Bret would drop the belt to Shawn.

It wasn't because he had done anything wrong; he'd been the champion for months. It was Shawn’s turn to be at the top, it was as simple as that. Bret had put other performers over plenty of times, he wasn't a sore loser, but for some reason, hearing it out loud from the boss made his gut drop.

They walked out of Vince’s office in silence. Shawn didn't seem to have a reaction; maybe he was too scared to show Bret how he was feeling about it.

“I think I should um…” Bret stopped, he didn't know what the next move was, “I think I need to talk to Owen.”

“Good idea,” Shawn kept his tone neutral, but his face was dejected.

Bret didn't have the guts to meet his eyes, “I’ll see you tonight.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long. Bret should say something, he should congratulate Shawn on this, but his own feelings about dropping the belt swelled up. He leaned in and gave Shawn a quick kiss before walking away, leaving the blonde standing in the hall.

It was a horrible thing to do, leaving Shawn standing there, but he wasn't sure what else to do. He owed him an apology, but first, he had to see Owen and fill his brother in on the situation. There was no one else he could talk to.

When Bret found Owen back at the hotel, he didn’t hesitate to spill everything he had been holding back. He told Owen about Shawn, their newly budding romance, dropping the belt, his mixed feelings about it, and feeling terrible about being distant. It was like he word-vomited trying to get his point across, not letting Owen get a word in.

“I don't know if I can do this,” Bret was sitting on the couch in Owen’s room as he raved about his predicament.

He could hardly believe he was coming to his youngest brother for a problem like this, but Owen had a family. In a way, his brother was more emotionally mature than him.

“So you’re fucking Shawn?” Owen asked, ignoring every other part of Bret’s tirade.

Exhaling through his nose, Bret gave his brother a look, “Yes, Owen.”

“Davey owes me twenty bucks.”

“You guys bet on this?” Bret scoffed.

“Jim did too, but he was on my side,” Owen said nonchalantly.

“Owen!”

“Sorry,” His brother shrugged, “Are you using protection?”

“Jesus Christ dude, I can't knock him up,” He regretted his decision to talk already.

“I know but- y’know,” Owen raised a brow.

Bret was quick to defend, “I don't like what you're implying.”

“I’m not implying anything!” Owen held his hands up in surrender, “I don't know how guys do ‘stuff.’”

Bret could feel his head begin to throb, “Owen, I didn't come here to tell you about my sex life.”

“I mean you kinda did.”

He was starting to think that he deserved this torment from his little brother.

“Whatever, that's not what I meant,” Bret exhaled again, wanting to start the conversation over, “The belt. What should I do?”

The answer was right there. Drop the belt. Shawn deserved it, he worked his ass off to prove himself in the company so what was the problem? Was he just selfish? He’d run off from Shawn in the hallway like he was diseased; he couldn’t imagine what the blonde was even thinking right now.

“Drop the belt,” Owen said without hesitation.

“It’s not that simple,” Bret shook his head, eyes locked on the floor.

“You said it wasn’t that simple about having feelings for Shawn too but it literally was. So now is the first test of the relationship, are you willing to give up the title for him?”

“That’s the problem,” Bret sighed and moved his gaze to his little brother, “I don’t know if I am.”

Owen didn’t say anything for a moment; like he was considering his words very carefully.

“Then maybe you’re not ready to be with him.”

It was a gut punch. It hurt more than it should have, which is how Bret knew it might be the truth. He didn’t want to break up with Shawn, they were still in the process of getting to know each other in the romantic sense. It was still the beginning, and for the first time in his life, Bret didn’t feel so alone.

He had thought he was ready for a relationship the moment they kissed, but was it all in his head? They moved so fast that Bret had mentally left the belt in the dust. It was the thing that he had worked tirelessly for, for decades. And in the end, the excitement of the new relationship would fade, wouldn’t it? Shawn would probably get bored and move on, but just the thought of that made Bret sick to his stomach.

Shawn was undoubtedly one of the greatest things to happen to him, but was it too good to be true?

***

That night at the hotel, Bret was still distant and stand-offish. Shawn offered him a spot to go to dinner with the guys but he declined, he told the blonde to go enjoy himself and that he deserved it. It was the closest thing he’d given Shawn to a ‘congratulations.’

He thought about going to make amends with Jim and Davey, but Owen told him he would pass word to them after their talk.

So that left Bret to sit and stare at the ceiling. He could go work out, but his head wasn’t in it. He missed Shawn and wanted to hold him and apologize for being weird about this, but he saw the look on Shawn’s face when he told him he didn’t feel like eating out.

He noticed the way that Shawn clenched his jaw and the sadness in his eyes. God, he was such a jerk. A selfish jerk. Shawn was the type, despite his good looks and cocky attitude, that needed some reassurance now and then. Bret had a lot to think about, but he shouldn’t tear Shawn down in the process.

An idea popped into his head after a while. He would go down the street to a little corner store and get Shawn some flowers. Or a card. Anything to show the blonde that he was happy for him and sorry for acting funny.

Half an hour later, he did exactly that. Bret had no idea what he was doing as he stood around and stared at all the different options. Roses were too corny, but Lilies didn’t scream ‘Shawn’ to him. He was the opposite of a kid in a candy store, whatever that would be.

“Can I help you?” A tiny old woman asked from behind the counter.

That social awkwardness that always caused Bret’s throat to close up when he talked to new people reared its ugly head, “Uh, I don’t- I’m not sure- “ He took a second and cleared his throat, “Yes, I need some help.”

“Well, what’s the occasion?” She moved from behind the counter over to Bret.

The old lady was over a foot shorter than him but for some reason, he was the one that lacked confidence. He was very out of his element.

“I need to apologize to my- to someone,” Bret gave the lady an unsure look.

“Not very good with words, are you, sweetheart?” The lady gave him a gentle pat on the arm.

He shook his head in response, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Well that's quite alright, you’re in the right place,” She grabbed a small bouquet of some flowers he didn’t recognize.

“Orchids, dear,” She looked them over for impurities, “They symbolize strength and unity, a very resilient flower.”

That’s exactly what he needed.

“How much?”

***

Back at the hotel, Bret paced back and forth as he waited for Shawn to come back. The old lady at the shop gave him a deal on the flowers and told him that everything would be alright. It was like she read his body language to a tee.

He wasn’t one for trusting strangers much, but she seemed nice enough. Hopefully, Orchids would do the trick.

Yelling down the hallway snapped Bret out of his thoughts. He could recognize that voice in a heartbeat; Shawn was always loud with his friends and he didn’t much care whenever someone filed a noise complaint in a hotel or somewhere else.

Holding the flowers behind his back, Bret waited for the door to unlock and to greet Shawn with a much better attitude. But the door never unlocked, instead, he was met with loud banging on the door and a much different voice.

“Bret! Get out here!”

Hunter’s voice. Of course, it was Hunter, it was always him. Bret quickly shoved the flowers into a nightstand drawer and moved to answer the door.

As soon as he opened it, he was met with a very pissed-off Hunter, but no Shawn.

He raised a brow, immediately confused, “Did you lose him or something? I thought I just heard his voice.”

“No, he went to my room,” Hunter said with no amusement.

A spike of jealousy ran down his spine, but she shoved it down.

“Why?” Bret knew this was leading nowhere good.

“Because,” Hunter continued, “Shawn spent the entire dinner ‘boohooing’ about how you started to give him the cold shoulder after you met with Vince today.”

Bret tried, but was interrupted, “I can explain-“

“You don’t need to. The moment it came time for you to put someone else above yourself, you flaked,” Hunter was not open to hearing Bret out.

It was personal now; because it wasn’t that Hunter was irritated about Bret being too dumb to see the signals that Shawn was sending, but now it was about how Bret hard hurt Shawn. It clearly didn’t sit well with the younger man.

“Just let me talk to him,” Bret did his best to keep his cool, this could all be explained. He would tell Shawn that he was sorry and that he was stupid to even second-guess anything.

Hunter huffed, ”You guys are adults, you can talk to him all you want, but I doubt he’ll listen.”

“Why are you even here?” Bret scoffed, the ability to stay calm was suddenly fleeting.

Shawn had run off to another man’s bedroom, and Bret was the one getting a lecture. It was almost comical.

”Because I was trying to give you a heads up, dickhead. Shawn’s not exactly-“

Before Hunter could finish, there was a loud crash from down the hall. A glass bottle shattered outside the door of Hunter’s room.

“Hitman!” Shawn yelled, emerging into the hallway. He was angry and intoxicated.

Bret’s gut dropped, there was no dealing with Shawn when he was like this. It wasn’t the Shawn he’d gotten to know behind closed doors; the one that loved to watch the TV on low volume because he secretly craved the quiet or the one that woke Bret up with sweet kisses all over his face just because he wanted to. No, this was the Heartbreak Kid. The showboat and antagonist.

He couldn't think of anything to do; he hadn't dealt with Shawn when he was like this. This was the first time it was his problem, at least. Bret gave Hunter a pleading look, but he knew that ultimately, Shawn was his to handle now.

“Shawn, you should keep it down,” Bret suggested.

It wasn’t a command; he just didn’t want to deal with a noise complaint while also managing to get Shawn to calm down.

”Oh, so now you can tell me what to do?” Shawn slurred as he made his way over to them, “I don’t think so, champ. Or should I say soon-to-be ‘former’ champ?”

The jab hit its mark. Bret knew he couldn’t take anything that Shawn said at the moment seriously, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

”Just come inside so we can go to bed,” he urged, putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

”Don’t touch me,” The blonde mumbled and half-assedly jerked away, “You hate me.”

”I don’t hate you, Shawn. We can talk about this in the morning,” Bret moved more into the hallway so he could steer Shawn in the right direction.

He jerked away again from Bret’s touch, this time weakly swatting his arm, “He hates me,” he said again towards Hunter.

”Shawn you need to go to bed,” Was all Hunter added.

”Fine,” Shawn grumpily pointed at Bret, “But I’m not going with you.”

Bret shook his head. That was not acceptable. Shawn was drunk and needed to be taken care of, and it was Bret’s job to do so. Maybe there were some ground rules they needed to set because Bret was not comfortable with Shawn sleeping in another man’s room. Even if it was just to sleep.

“Honey-” Bret tried, but Shawn butt in.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you jerk,” Shawn drunkenly shoved a finger into Bret’s chest, “I just said you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“It’ll shut him up if you just let him come with me,” Hunter added.

It wasn't that Bret didn’t trust Hunter, but this situation was just not ideal. He was failing at being a good partner; he couldn't even get Shawn to sleep in the same room with him.

“No, I'm sleeping out here,” Shawn crossed his arms, like an angry child.

“You're not sleeping in the hallway!” Both Bret and Hunter said at the same time.

Bret didn’t see another option at this point, he needed to set his feelings aside. At last, he relented.

”Okay fine, take him to yours,” He sighed and gave Hunter a look, both of them knowing that just taking Shawn to Hunter’s room till he passed out was probably the easiest option, “Just get some water into him if you can.”

“Not my first time,” Hunter shrugged as he turned a pouty Shawn away and led him to his room.

Once they were gone, Bret went back inside and sat on the bed. He pulled the Orchids out from the drawer and stroked a purple petal with his thumb. Everything had gone so much worse than he thought.

***

Bret left the hotel door unlocked in case Shawn decided to come wandering back into their room in the night, but he hadn’t shown.

The Orchids were now moved into a makeshift vase made out of the paper coffee cups that the hotel had lying around.

Hopefully, after the catastrophe that was last night, Shawn would hear him out. Bret knew he was wrong in his initial reaction to dropping the belt, but he was doing his best to fix it. Owen’s words rang through his head. Maybe you’re not ready to be with him. That couldn’t be right. Owen didn’t know what he was talking about.

That morning, Bret saw that Shawn’s stuff was still in the room, so there was hope. He got up and got dressed for the gym. They had to hit the road at noon, but there was still plenty of time. He would hit the hotel gym and hope that Shawn was in the room when he came back. He left the orchids out as a peace offering.

The sight of Shawn sitting on the bed when came back from his workout startled him. Evidently, the blonde was a little worse for wear. His long hair was unkempt and he looked exhausted, but that's what alcohol did.

“Hey,” Bret offered gently, entering the room and tossing his gym bag on the nearby couch.

Shawn looked up from where his chin was resting on his hands, “Hey.”

“You feeling okay?” He wanted to approach the blonde but was hesitant.

“Yeah I'm- I'm fine,” Shawn answered softly, remorse in his voice.

They sat in silence for a moment before Bret finally made a move. He walked over to Shawn and grabbed his hand, urging him to stand. Neither said anything as Bret pulled Shawn into a hug. The blonde melted in his arms, burying his face into Bret’s neck.

This was the Shawn he knew. The one that was secretly needy and wanted comfort. They did have to talk about everything but for the moment, Bret was content to stand there and hold Shawn till he was ready to talk. It was a hiccup. Relationships had hiccups, didn't they?

Bret pressed a kiss into Shawn’s hair and gave a reassuring squeeze around his waist. They stayed like that for a while longer before Shawn broke the silence.

“Was that our first fight?” His voice was slightly muffled from where he dug his face into the crook of Bret’s neck.

He let out a small laugh in response, “No way.”

“Our first one as a…” Shawn stood up straight and pointed a finger back and forth between them, “Whatever we’re calling this.”

“Well,” Bret still held onto Shawn’s hand as they both sat down on the edge of the bed, “What do you want to call it?”

He wasn't expecting the bombshell that Shawn hit him with.

“I know what I want to call this, but I don't think you do,” Shawn said, remorsefully.

Bret didn't fully understand what Shawn was getting at. There was a lot they had to discuss, but he thought they were eventually going to get the hang of this.

“What do you mean?” Bret asked, thumb stroking over Shawn’s knuckles, much like he did with the flower petal the night prior.

“I know what I want, Bret,” Shawn said directly.

“Well, I’m willing to give you whatever you want,” Bret added.

Shawn shook his head and sighed, “You’re not listening.”

“What?”

“You’re not hearing what I'm saying,” Shawn squeezed Bret’s hand for emphasis, “What do you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter-”

“Are we just going to sit here and pretend that yesterday didn't happen? That the moment we found out about the title change you didn’t become a different person?” Shawn explained as he took his hand away from Bret’s.

“You wouldn't even talk to me, let alone tell me how you were feeling,” Shawn continued, “You want the easy answer, the quickest fix, and that's not going to work.”

The remnants of Shawn’s touch almost stung. Bret wanted it back, wanted all the fighting to stop. Maybe he did only want the easy way out.

“I got overwhelmed and I'm sorry,” Bret reached for the blonde’s hand again but was met with him pulling away, “It was just a lot to take in at the time, I'm fine now. I wouldn't want to drop the belt to anyone else.”

Maybe you're not ready to be with him. Those stupid words haunted Bret’s thoughts again. Putting doubts into every little thing he said.

“It’s not about the belt, Bret,” He could see the frustration rise on Shawn’s face, “It’s about the fact that I feel like I don't even know you.”

Bret stood, suddenly irritated, “You spent the last three months trying to piss me off every chance you got, but I have to take a little time to think about a giant career change, and all the sudden ‘you don't know me?’”

“You don't think I deserve it,” Shawn stood and got in his face, “You just want to give me what I want so I’ll shut up.”

“Don’t tell me what I think,” Bret’s tone darkened, “And don’t act like you're totally innocent in this.”

“What are you talking about?” Shawn huffed.

“I’m starting to wonder if I need to be concerned about Hunter,” Bret accused as he met Shawn’s glare.

The shock on Shawn’s face was apparent, “Excuse me?”

“You slept in his room last night, why don't you tell me all about your sleepover with your ‘best friend?’ Bret knew he was reaching, but he was looking for any sort of ground to stand on.

Shawn’s tone softened, hurt by Bret’s accusation, “Don’t talk about Hunter that way.”

“Oh, so I do need to be concerned?” Bret was losing his senses; he was never good at losing an argument.

“You don’t know shit about the things Hunter and I have been through together,” The blonde shook his head, “To even think…”

Bret quickly realized he had gone too far, “Shawn, you're right, I shouldn't have-”

“Call me when you're ‘ready to be with me,’” Shawn said dismissively and turned to grab his things.

“Who did- how-” Bret wanted to claw his own skin off.

“You think I wasn't gonna talk to your brother after you disappeared all day?” Shawn tossed his bag over his shoulder and walked past Bret.

“Shawn wait- that's not-” Bret turned to plead with the other man.

Shawn stopped by the table where the Orchids sat in their poor excuse for a vase.

He gently touched a petal and sighed, “I’m sorry about last night, but I can't handle the thought of being with someone who's unsure about being with me.”

***

Bret drove the five hours to the next show alone. It gave him a lot of time to think, but of course, the only person on his mind was Shawn. How in that last moment before Shawn left the room, he saw the blonde reach for the Orchids but left them sitting there in the end. The sudden spike of hope shot down.

There was no anger at Shawn; only sadness. Bret had let him down. And he didn't know how or when, but he’d have to fix it. For real this time.

It was late afternoon when he arrived at the arena for the next house show. He thought about looking for Shawn or the guys but he knew that if he showed his face around Hunter, Scott, Kevin, or even Kid it was no use. They were Shawn’s friends first.

Which left Bret to find Owen, Davey, and Jim backstage. Sudden anger boiled in his gut once he laid eyes on his little brother. He felt betrayed.

“Fucking asshole,” He dropped his bag and charged after Owen, pushing him into the wall, “Do you have any fucking idea what you've done?”

“What’s your problem?” Owen pushed back, but Bret had a grip on his t-shirt.

Jim and Davey moved in to separate the two, but Bret held tight.

“You had to tell him everything, didn't you?” Bret was seething.

“I was being honest, dickhead. Get off of me!” Owen gripped onto Bret’s wrists, trying to push him back.

Bret wouldn't hit his brother. He knew he wouldn't, but that didn't mean he wouldn't teach Owen a lesson.

The force of Jim, Davey, and Owen together finally forced Bret to let go and he was pushed back, hard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jim looked between the brothers, shocked at what he was seeing.

“You just wanted me to lie to him?” Owen questioned, ignoring what Jim was saying.

“You piece of shit, you told him I wasn't ready,” Bret’s voice cracked, anger and sadness all mixing together to create something much worse.

Davey and Jim were obviously confused but didn't interject.

“All I did was tell him what I got out of the conversation,” Owen snapped back, “Sorry for trying to save feelings.”

“You didn't save any feelings, Owen!” Bret didn't realize there were tears in his eyes until it was too late, “He left.”

“Who left, what’s going on?” Davey interjected.

“This is on you, Bret. I did what anyone else would have done,” Owen spat unapologetically.

It was too late, Bret was too overwhelmed. The frustrated tears fell down his face and he couldn't stop them. He was embarrassed and desperate to blame someone even though he knew Owen was right. The tears weren't there if he didn't acknowledge them, but Davey and Jim were already giving him sympathetic looks.

The belt, Shawn, how he’d been treating his friends and brother lately, it was all too much. He was made to handle the pressure; he was built to take hit after hit, but this time it all came crashing down.

Bret broke down and cried.

In such a short amount of time, he’d gained everything he’d ever wanted and still managed to mess it all up. His career was important to him but the belt would come and go, that’s how the beast operated.

In his few hours of doubt, Bret had managed to make Shawn feel like their relationship was one-sided. That all Bret cared about was some stupid belt, and not supporting or caring for his partner. God, he was such an idiot.

“What have I done?” Bret shoved the palms of his hands into his eyes, desperate to stop the tears. He couldn't be seen like this, his friends couldn’t see him lose control. He didn’t cry, he’d never cry.

“Hey man, it’s alright,” Jim put a hand on his shoulder, “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay.”

Bret continued to viciously wipe at the tears but they just kept coming. He couldn’t stop them. Even Owen didn’t seem angry anymore as he came over to comfort him.

Bret shook his head, “You guys shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Oh shut up,” Davey rolled his eyes, but there was a tenderness in his voice, “Yes we do.”

Where would he even begin to explain what was going on? Owen knew, but he didn’t know the events of last night or this morning. How both he and Shawn had said regrettable things, but Bret was the one who had done the most damage.

Owen made Bret look at him; he knew his eyes were red and puffy but his brother kept his gaze.

“Bret, Shawn never said anything about wanting to leave you,” Owen said as gently as he could, “He just wants you to be sure.”

“This is about Shawn?” Jim asked, still frustrated at being left out of the loop.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Bret forced out, still doing everything could to try to push his emotions down, to no avail.

“Shawn told me everything, Bret. He doesn’t care about the belt, he’s hurt because he wants the real deal with you and he thinks you don't,” Owen explained.

Why wouldn’t Shawn just tell him that himself? He stewed on it for a moment, but then remembered how good he was at expressing his feelings and knew he had no standing. Wouldn't Hunter have said something? But then again, maybe he was just trying to protect his friend.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Bret’s voice sounded weak and he hated it, but the thought of Shawn wanting nothing to do with him was so much worse.

Owen pulled him into a hug, “You don't have to be perfect to deserve love, Bret.”

Such a simple statement, but he didn't know if he could believe it.

[aureutr]

Health update, featuring: DIAGNOSIS

I have been a chronic pain patient for a few years now. It's difficult to fully articulate how much pain changes your life, unless you are someone who has lived it or had a loved one live it.

Pain sucked away my energy and brainpower. I found myself sleeping more and more, first in naps after work then I was regularly calling out half days just to sleep. All the while, I was seeing doctor after doctor in hopes that someone would have an answer.

No one did. At first, it was almost a relief. It wasn't cancer, after all. But then the relief turned into disappointment and quickly into resignation. Labs were fine, X-ray was clear, CT was good. It should have been good news, except I still hurt all of the time and no one could tell me why.

The pain got worse. It peaked in Autumn 2022, when I finally got my first sliver of relief. Gabapentin kept the pain in control enough that I no longer had to regularly sleep half of the day, but it made me foggy. Still, it was easier to manage than the brain fog from pain, so I took it.

I still take it, and I’m on quite the high dose. It’s given me a semblance of a life back, but it’s not the answer or a cure. I still napped, I still hurt too much to even walk around a store for more than an hour or so. And, if I did, it would be my only activity for the day.

I lost my job late last year. I don’t believe it was because of the time I had to take, it was a mass layoff, but I’m certain it did not help. That, at least, ended up fine. I found a job I prefer with far better pay within a few months. And they’re, so far, understanding that I’m working through health problems.

But being unemployed was still a stressor, and I had learned that stress was integral to my pain. When I was stressed, it was worse. When I was calm, it was bearable.

I’ll skip describing another round of tests and hypotheses that went nowhere. In October 2023, my husband and I went to the Mayo Clinic or the Cleveland Clinic or John Hopkins (I am being intentionally vague here). This was our second time visiting, the first gave us absolutely nothing.

A nurse practitioner took a very quick look at me, too quick for our comfort, and declared the issue muscular. She recommended physical therapy. It seemed too simple, really. After all of that, all that money spent and time invested? It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried some exercise, but when moving makes your pain worse and worse pain zaps your energy, that’s difficult to maintain.

Still, I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at anything at this point. And it’s a damn good thing I didn’t.

The physical therapist I ended up seeing told me I had the strongest pelvic floor she’s ever seen. And that’s not a good thing. I have apparently taken literal decades worth of anxiety, depression, self-loathing, and any other negative emotion you can think of, and held them taut there, keeping my pelvic muscles almost constantly tensed.

And when you tense that much for that long, dysfunction arises.

My official diagnosis is Pelvic Floor Disorder. All of my PT has been focused on stretching, no strength training or cardio. I’m retraining my body to relax, to let go.

It has been amazing.

At the time of writing, I’ve been going to sessions for about six weeks. Already, I am eager to walk our dogs every day. I’ve gone out on my own or with friends to move.

The pain is not gone. But it is so much less that my pain clinic doctor is discussing reducing my gabapentin in a couple of months. And with decreased pain comes decreased brain fog.

Decreased brain fog means not only an improvement in my professional work, but space for fandom. I’ve written more than I’ve shared, lots of short private stuff for friends, but I haven’t had enough organized thought to re-approach the stories I put on hold.

I can’t promise anything, of course, but I hope that can change soon. I’ve been dabbling in Distant Echoes again, and it’s fun to be back in that world.

I’m not well. But I’m better. I’m so, so much better.

[raychleadele]

What resources would you suggest for someone who wants to get into plant life?? I live near Dallas and I’ve tried my hand out a few times with plants but I feel so clueless and I’m not even sure what plants would thrive here! Any books? Videos? Podcasts??

I watch a lot of YouTube videos! What to recommend fully depends on what kind of plants you want to get into. Different kinds of plants require different kinds of care.

Succulents and cacti have similar care requirements, including WAY MORE LIGHT THAN YOU THINK. Succulents especially have a reputation for being easy to care for, and they are, but only after you figure out what they want. I spent years killing them before I got comfortable with them, but I love them now! They really really don’t need much water - mine get watered around once a month at most, but often even less - and you will want to get them a grow light. No, a sunny window isn’t enough. One of my favorite YouTubers for succulent care is Succulents and Sunshine.

Other houseplants need water more frequently and can thrive with less light, but even “low light” varieties do need light! A sunny window can be enough for most of them, but if you want plants in other areas of the house, a grow light can still be beneficial. A moisture meter is a cheap tool that can help you check if they need water or not. I usually water mine around once a week. A good YouTuber for houseplant care is Sheffield Made Plants.

If you want to grow things outside, first you want to look up the USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map. Hardiness zones simply are a code to tell you what plants can grow well in your region, and are based on average low temperatures of a region. Pretty much any plant or seed you buy will have a suggested zone range on its tag. Higher numbers have higher average low temperatures and generally a longer growing season. I believe Dallas is in Zone 8, which is a couple zones warmer than mine.

If you want to grow vegetables, which is something I love doing, you can start seeds in a seed tray indoors under a grow light a few weeks before your last frost and then transplant them to your garden once the weather is warm enough and the seedlings are at least a couple inches tall. I did this with tomatoes and peppers this year, and they did great! Some plants do fine being “direct sown” (planting seeds directly in the garden without being started indoors) and I’ve had good success doing this with lettuces and other greens, as well as beans. Regardless of your method, you usually want to plant more seeds than you think you need, because not all of them will sprout. If you don’t want to bother with planting seeds, you can get plant starts at a plant nursery or big box hardware store. I usually do this for things like herbs. Outdoor plants will need to be watered more often than indoor plants because they dry out more quickly. I usually try to water my vegetable garden about every 2-3 days, but they’ll want daily water when they’re very young. One YouTuber I like for vegetable gardening is Gardener Scott, who is in Colorado, but I’m sure there are others who grow in a climate more similar to yours, so look around!

I don’t have much experience growing flowers outdoors, but I imagine the advice for them would be very similar to my advice for vegetable gardening. I don’t have any content creators to recommend for this category unfortunately, but I’m sure they’re out there!

This is just a very quick overview, but hopefully these tips can help you get started! If you want me to dig into a particular kind of plant more deeply, I’d be happy to! And don’t let a plant death discourage you - I have killed so many plants in my many years of caring for them, and even just this year I had multiple things in my vegetable garden simply not grow at all. (Looking at you, chives. Two years in a row now that they haven’t even sprouted! What the hell!) Every failure is a chance to learn, and not a sign that you’re not good at it! When something dies, or simply doesn’t sprout, don’t give up. It happens to all of us. Good luck planting!