#maybe he starts growing a tomato plant or something to prove he can do it better than PV

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Emmaaa❤️❤️ may I request a headcanon where the easy boys fell in love with a shy reader? Maybe with Bull, Tab, Luz, Speirs Babe and Malarkey? Thank you❤️ love you

Aaahhh Fran my dear, what a great way to start off my birthday week tysm for sending one in💓

Bull Randleman:

Bull is super protective of you, always has been.

He got 10 million times more protective when he realises he's head over ass in love with you.

He's always there, always got your back no matter what.

He likes that you're most comfortable when you're with him, makes him feel like he's special.

When he was stuck in that barn in Holland, separated from everyone, thinking about you was the only thing that kept his strength up.

Its then he decides he has to tell you how he feels.

He's pretty direct about it, he doesn't want to beat around the bush with this.

"Look darlin', I ain't gonna mess around here, because to be completely honest I'm head over heels in love with you."

You get all blushy and stuttery and he thinks it's probably the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

He can tell you're flustered, so he grabs your cheeks in his hands and rubs his thumbs over them gently.

"Can I kiss ya darlin'?" He asks softly

You can't even speak you're so surprised, so you nod and he leans in and kisses you slowly, not wanting to rush anything and ruin the perfect moment.

"Hell Bull," you giggle, "I've been hoping you'd say something for ages."

"And why didn't you say anything, huh?" He laughed.

"Because I was too scared you'd turn me down."

"Well," he sighed, kissing your forehead, "I just can't quite believe I ever gave you the impression I'd turn you down. Guess I'll just have to prove to you how much I love you from now on."

Floyd Talbert

Tab is a total flirt

He's all cheesy pickup likes at first and they make you blush like hell but you'll never give him the satisfaction of laughing at them because they're so ridiculous.

But he takes your blushing as encouragement so he keeps going for weeks until eventually he gets a giggle out of you and it makes all his efforts worthwhile because you have the most lovely laugh.

After that you start getting to know each other a little better, and you start to get closer.

He's delighted when you start to open up and share more with him.

It kind of hits him like a slap in the face that shit, he's in love love you.

He's a total softie with you

He's quite subtle about it at first. He does small nice things for you; makes you coffee, gives you half his k ration when supplies are low.

He's surprisingly reluctant to profess his feelings for you. He thinks there's no way you'll see him as anything other than a friend.

Chuck tells him he's an idiot, that you've clearly got feelings for him too and be should just tell you already.

So he does...in the most muddled way possible. It all kinda comes out like word vomit.

"So-I-Just-wanna-tell-you-I-think-you're-wonderful-and-I'm-a-little-bit-in-love-with-you."

You're dumbfounded, and you can't quite comprehend what he's just said.

"Wait," you whisper, "are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've kinda got it really bad for you."

You giggle and blush like hell, and he grins like an idiot because he loves that giggle so much

"How about I take you out for dinner sometime?" He asks cheekily, and his grin widens when you blush harder and agree to go.

He saunters over to you and plants a quick kiss on your lips, before putting his arm around your shoulder and leading you off, pointedly ignoring Chucks wolf whistles when the two of you walk past him.

George Luz

George is the biggest flirt around, and he makes no secret in the fact he likes you.

He goes out of his way to compliment you; tells you that you make Rita Hayworth look plain, that you make sunshine look dull.

The more he makes you blush, the harder he tries. He knows he can crack your shy shell and find the gem underneath.

He's a big fan of cheesy movie quotes, which you adamantly refuse to indulge him with, but he keeps trying nonetheless.

He's tried them all, so he decides this time to pull out all the stops and be as direct about his feelings as possible.

"See that's what's wrong with you," he starts smoothly, "you should be kissed, and often. And by someone who knows how."

He pauses for a second to judge your reaction, and when he sees you smiling he sweeps you into a dramatic dip and kisses you passionately, Clarke Gable style.

He quite literally swept you off your feet, and he knows it too.

Once he knows he's successfully gotten your attention for real, he softens. He dials down the flamboyant flirting and instead he just talks to you and gets to know you for real.

He loves to cuddle you in close and have whispered conversations for hours.

He's very affectionate too, always has to be holding your hand or have his arm around you.

He brings you out of your shell, his enthusiasm and fun nature is so infectious you can't help but be swept up by it and join in on the fun.

Ronald Speirs

Ron is incredibly different when he's with you, much to everyone's surprise.

He laughs with you, like....a lot.

At first you were very cautious with him. You'd heard the stories and weren't too sure what to make of him.

But when you get to know him you realise that he is totally different to what everyone said.

You found that he is really easy to talk to, and he has a wicked sense of humour.

He liked that you were a bit more quiet than others, it made you much easier for him to talk to.

He tells the most brilliant stories, and the two of you usually end up talking for hours about all sorts; history, movies, music, anything and everything.

Its obvious to everyone but you that he has feelings for you.

He thinks you must surely know, that it was completely obvious he'd fallen in love with you. I mean he spends all his free time with you, and he never talks to anyone else the way he does with you.

Lipton eventually realises that no, you don't actually have a clue how Speirs feels about you, so he tells him that you're oblivious.

Naturally Speirs is all action and matter of fact, so he decides to just tell you how he feels and see what happens.

He's kinda nervous despite outward appearances, but he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else.

So he literally just comes out and says it one day; no frills, no fuss.

You're disarmed by his straightforwardness. You'd hoped that he might return your feelings but you'd thought there was no way.

You've never seen him smile brighter than when you told him you returned his feelings.

He wasted no time after that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, his other hand cupping your jaw.

Everyone was delighted you'd mellowed out ole Sparky a little, but of course nobody was brave enough to say it out loud in case he found out.

Babe Heffron

Babe....is a bit of a mess around you.

He tries to act all cool and smooth, but he's really a total disaster because he's so distracted staring at you.

When you first start getting to know each other he does most of the talking. He's nervous as hell around you so his mouth just keeps going.

Lucky for him though you find it endearing, and it helps you feel more comfortable with him so you start to open up too.

After that he prefers to listen instead of talk, because he's fascinated by everything you tell him.

You're two peas in a pod, and everyone thinks you're a miracle worker because you've managed to get Babe to stop talking for 5 minutes.

Its clear to everyone that the guy is totally in love with you, they're just waiting for him to do something about it.

So of course Bill is the one to tell him to get his act together.

"Get your goddamn head out of your ass Babe and stop acting like a lovesick puppy. Go tell her you love her and get the goddamn girl."

It takes him awhile, and he really has to gear himself up to do it. He's attempted to say it so many times but he keeps chickening out.

One night you two are hanging out just the two of you and he manages to get it out.

He stutters like hell, but you think it's seriously adorable, and you're grinning like an idiot by the time he's finished.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," he says nervously, "do you feel the same or...?"

You say nothing, instead leaning towards him and kissing him sweetly.

You're both blushing like two cherry tomatoes, but you're smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

Then you're even more inseparable. Bill thinks you're joined at the hip or something.

You're really cute together though, always holding hands or cuddled up.

What you don't see is that Babe rarely takes his eyes off of you, and he still looks like a lovesick puppy but honestly he couldn't care less.

Don Malarkey

Don tries to act all cool when the boys are around, but when he's alone with you he's much quieter.

It's those quiet moments alone together that you enjoy the most.

He's a great listener, and he has a gentle way of pushing you to open up and be yourself with him.

You guys grow close pretty quickly, and start spending more and more time together.

He finds himself getting lost in conversations with you, and getting distracted staring at you.

He realises one day when you're telling a funny story about your childhood and he hears your wonderful laugh that he's totally in love with you.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, thinking it all over. He contemplates if he should even tell you or not because there's a chance you'll laugh I'm his face and tell him no way in hell.

Eventually he decides to screw it and just tell you. But he's not gonna just come out and say it, he's gotta do some kinda gesture. But nothing too overly dramatic because you wouldn't like that.

So he turns up to meet you with a bunch of flowers he picked himself, and he's been trying to fix his hair for the last goddamn half hour.

He's got a speech prepared and everything, but he's pretty sure he's forgotten half of it.

"Look I...I don't know if you feel the same or anything but...I just want you to know that I am head over heels in love with you. And I don't expect you to return the feelings or anything but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance."

You could tell he was nervous about the whole thing, and it was quite possibly the most endearing thing you'd ever seen in your life.

You took the flowers from him and placed them on a side table quickly before jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

"Woah," he chuckles, "I'm taking this as a good sign then."

You pulled back your head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes happily, nodding your agreement.

He eyes crinkled when he smiles and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

Its clear to everyone how perfect you are for each other; you calm his wilder side and he brings out your more outgoing side.

Well there you have it! Hope you all like it and ilysm Fran thanks so much for such a fun request to kick off the birthday week fun💕

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E1; Chapter One, The Vanishing of Will Byers - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘖𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪����𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐔.𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘

The night is quiet, as it always has been in this small corner of Indiana, and yet this night is unlike any other. The halls were especially bare, occupied only by the melody of the generator humming as it struggled to pump light throughout the twisted maze of halls. That was, until...

BAM

The steel door rips open, colliding fast and hard with the walls withab fantastic thud. Swallowing all remaining silence along with it, was the cry of alarms that flood the hallway as he runs for his life. The man finds himself at the elevator, furiously slamming his hand against the elevator button hoping just maybe it might make the elevator come faster. As he does so, the man continues to look over his shoulder in a panic.

He knows its after him.

BOOM

He knows its close.

The man is thrilled to hear the soft ding of the elevator signaling it's arrival. Before the doors are even opened all the way the man quickly ducks through and proceeds to frantically hit the UP button inside the elevator.

The doors begin to close.

For a second he believes he just might make it. But that doesn't completely cast away the fear as he can't seem to take his eyes off of the eerie hallway, expecting it's arrival. The man attempts to calm his breathing. His hopes of escaping are growing stronger as things quiet down.

That's when he hears it.

That... Thing.

It takes every remaining ounce of courage for the man to slowly look up, but on some level, he already knows he is done for.

A low growl is heard above him followed by an unusual yet terrifying squeak.

The man's screams were cut off with the shut of the doors as he is yanked up towards the ceiling of the elevator. The man is no more.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

It's quiet. The faint sound of sprinklers outside can be heard as we wait for Mike to continue. We are all on the edge of our seats. It's already hard enough they still can't find proper seating for me since I officially joined the party, so, for now, I'm wedged between my best friend Will and my brother Dustin.

"Something is coming. Something hungry for blood," Mike says, his voice barely above a whisper. "A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness."

Subconsciously we all slowly lean in waiting for whatever happens next.

"It is almost here."

"What is it?" Will asks suddenly, no longer capable of containing his curiosity.

This time it's Dustin who cuts in, "What if it's the Demogorgon?"

I take a deep breath in suspense. Out of the corner of my eye, Will practically throws himself back in his seat.

"Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon." Dustin rambles on.

Lucas speaks up, "It's not the Demogorgon." He sounds very sure of himself which gives me more confidence.

We all jump a little in our seats when Mike slams one of the game pieces down in front of us suddenly as he shouts "An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!"

I sigh in great relief as Lucas gives a very smug and quite frankly, sassy look to Dustin as he props his elbow on the back of his chair which earns a soft chuckle from me.

"Troglodytes?" Dustin asks in disbelief.

"Told ya," I roll my eyes at Lucas despite the smile that grows on my face.

Everyone shares a good laugh, all of us relieved when my eyes meet Will's and we share a smile and a shake of the head as if silently saying 'I can't believe we were so worried for nothing'.

Simultaneously all of our smiles melt away when Mike starts looking around as he says "Wait a minute. Did you hear that?"

"That...That sound," he says softly.

"Boom... Boom," his voice is getting slightly louder with each 'boom'. We all stare at Mike expectantly, hanging on to his every word.

"BOOM!" Mike is shouting at this point as he slams his hands against the wooden surface making the table as well as all of us jump.

I always get too into these games, I realize. My heart is racing as adrenaline courses through my veins. I look over and it seems when I jumped I grabbed on to the nearest thing next to me which happened to be Will's arm. Sheepishly, I retract my hand and look back at Mike in anticipation.

"That didn't come from the troglodytes. No, that... That came from something else." Mike continues.

We all look around at each other as we wait for Mike.

In an instant, Mike slams down the next figure on the board and exclaims, "The Demogorgon!"

'Yep. We're screwed.'

The silence is replaced with all of our defeated groans. Dustin sighs and says, "We're in deep shit."

Mike suddenly says, "Will, your action!"

"I don't know!" Will sounded desperate.

We're all on edge, but the boys are completely panicking.

"Fireball him!" Lucas shouts.

"I'd have to roll a 13 or higher!"

"Too risky." Dustin cuts in. "Cast a protection spell!"

Lucas turns to Will and says "Don't be a pussy," I roll my eyes. "Fireball him!"

At this point, Lucas and Dustin are just yelling at each other.

"Cast protection."

Our attention is quickly brought back to Mike when he shouts, "The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you."

"BOOM!"

"FIREBALL HIM!"

"Another stomp. BOOM."

"Cast. Protection."

"He roars in anger!"

At this point, everyone is yelling over one another; it's utter chaos, and finally I snap.

"Oh, come on, I'M tired of your silly human bickering, just let the boy roll!" It's hard to be heard over all the yelling but, by some miracle,, they manage to hear me and it's quiet for a split second as Will gets a chance to speak.

"And, FIREBALL!" He throws the dice on the table out of excitement and they go flying onto the floor.

"Oh shit!"

We all jump to our feet, scrambling to find the dice in anticipation.

"Where'd it go?" Lucas asks. "Where is it?"

Will almost sounded defensive, "I don't know!"

"Is it a 13?"

"How are we supposed to know if we haven't found the dice yet, Dustin?" I retort.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Dustin chants as he paces back and forth. I roll my eyes as I continue to search on my hands and knees.

"Mike," It was Mrs. Wheeler.

"Mom we're in the middle of a campaign!" Mike exclaims.

"You mean the end? Fifteen after."

Mike sighs, exasperated and runs up the stairs.

I hear Lucas accuse Will. "Oh, my God! Freaking Idiot!"

"Lucas," I ease. "come on, it's not his fault. We were all caught up in the game. Let's just focus on- OH! Found 'em!"

I jump to my feet, pointing down at the D-20 for my friends to see and not wanting to tamper with the roll. The boys come running over and practically trampled me in the process.

"Shit, it's a seven." We all groan in frustration, especially Will.

"Does a seven count?" Will asked hopefully.

"Did Mike see it?" Lucas counters.

"Well, no."

"Then it doesn't count."

I sigh, beginning to pack up my bags and tidy up my mess knowing it was time to leave. The others do the same.

"Why do we have to leave?" Will asks sadly as we head up the stairs. "It was just getting good,"

"I know," I swing my arm off his shoulder dramatically with a sigh as we head up the basement stairs and for the garage door. "I know. But hey, just think how awesome the next one will be, eh?" I tease trying to get my best friend to smile.

|| 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Y/n has always been so good at cheering people up, I have no idea how he does it.

"Hey, guys. I'm sorry we had to end it so soon." Y/n and I turn around looking at Mike.

"No sweat, Mikey." Y/n shrugs, with a smile.

I love that smile. Suddenly his arm leaves my shoulder, and I frown a little.

I sigh inwardly, I've had such a bad crush on Y/n since he and Dustin moved here in the 4th grade. He has no idea... I hope. I always admired him from afar, that is until he finally convinced Dustin to let him into the party. We were all glad to have him, Dustin can be a little overprotective is all. I'm not sure about Dustin, but as for Mike and Lucas, they know I like him. Those guys can read me like a book, and once they caught on there was no convincing them otherwise.

I'm really lucky to have them as friends. They've never made me feel bad for who I am.

"Hey, Mike? Where is Dustin?" Y/n asks.

That's a good point, I realize. He was right behind us but he hasn't come outside yet.

"I think he went upstairs to give the leftovers to Nancy."

"Oh okay. I'll just wait here then. Uh oh, your plant is dying" Y/n said suddenly, kneeling down by the withering plant by the patio.

"Yeah, that's my mom's tomato plant. That thing is hopeless. She basically gave up on it."

"Well, I might be able to help," he said thoughtfully, beginning to scan the garage. "Where do you keep your gardening- Oh, never mind!"

He quickly runs over to the shelves, retrieving some old packets and ran back over to the plant, kneeling beside it.

You can always tell when he is concentrating; he always does this cute thing where he furrows his brow and chews his lip. My stomach does a little flip when i realize I was staring again and I quickly refocus my attention on my vest zipper. I still manage to see Y/n fiddling with the the packet tonget it open, finally sprinkling the contents into the dirt before mixing it in with his finger. All the while, he mutters words of encouragement towards it. I remember him telling me one day about a study conducted on plants and how it was proved that they respond well to positive feedback, and the memory makes me smile. He was so fascinated by it; it was hard not to be as excited about it as he was when he told us about it.

Y/n stands up, brushing himself off and smiles at Mike and then me.

I kinda froze, not in panic but in awe. He just radiates warmth, and positivity effortlessly.

"What?" He chuckles as he smiles at me.

I shake my head in embarrassment and look away, zipping up my vest and getting on my bike.

Lucas just rolls his eyes at my behavior. He's always telling me to just go for it but it's not that easy. I think he's tired of my bashfulness but still understands why I'm scared.

We all look to the door when we hear it slam. It's Dustin.

"There's something wrong with your sister." He grumbles.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's got a stick up her butt."

"Yeah," Lucas joins in. "It's because she's been dating that douche bag, Steve Harrington."

"Yeah, she's turning into a real jerk."

"She's always been a real jerk!" Mike interrupts.

"Nuh-uh. She used to be cool, like the time she dressed up as an elf for our elder tree campaign." With that, Dustin headed off on his bike, followed by Y/n but not before sending me a smile and thanking Mike.

"It was a seven," I tell him, thinking back on the campaign.

"Huh?"

"The roll, it was a seven. The Demogorgon, it got me."

Mike seems a bit shocked at my truthfulness, but ultimately shrugs it off, nodding. I nod back.

"See you later!" I say as I start peddling away.

I catch up just in time to see Lucas bid his goodbyes.

"Good night, ladies!" He chimes.

"Kiss your mom 'night for me," Dustin calls before looking over at me.

"Race you back to my place? Winner gets a comic?"

Before I can respond Y/n speaks up, "and am I included this time, like at all?"

"Course not," he says nonchalantly. I shake my head, feeling kinda bad for him, but I know it's just sibling banter.

"Well then," he scoffs. "Don't be surprised if your bike tires mysteriously deflate one day, Dustin. There's all kinds of weirdos out here,"

I laugh, and Dustin just ignores him.

"Any comic?" I ask.

"Yeah!" As we are about to start we both look back when we hear Y/n frantically yelling, "Shit! DUSTIN HELP!"

I look back to see him winking at me with a smile on his face. Automatically realizing what he is up to, I booked it.

Fortunately for me, Dustin wasn't so quick. I could hear his frantic cries, "Jesus, Y/n what's wrong-? HEY, WHAT THE HELL?!"

There it is. Although, I was already far ahead.

"DAMMIT Y/N, IF I LOSE YOU OWE ME A COMIC BOOK!"

I can hear Y/n's laughter from here and it makes me smile. As the laughter grows more and more distant, I hear "GO WILL, GO!"

Somehow my smile gets bigger, and my legs go faster.

"Hey! Hey! Get back here! I'm gonna kill you! BOTH of you!"

"I'll take your X-Men 134!" I shout as I pass his house and take the shortcut to my own.

As I slow down my mind starts to wonder; It wanders to the campaign today. It wanders to how Y/n helped me win the race and my new comic book just moments ago. It wanders to Y/n grabbing my arm during the campaign and how I don't think I've ever blushed that hard... My mind wanders to Y/n.

Sometimes I really hate how much I like him. How I can't get him out of my head. He just has always been such a good friend to me and I just don't get how someone can be so nice, and thoughtful and-

My thoughts are cut short when I notice my bike light flickering. I look down at it in confusion. Just then it comes back on. I look back at the road and I see a disturbingly tall, ominous figure staring me down. My heart practically stops in the figure's wake.

My body reacted before my mind could; I yanked my bike right and as I cruise down the ditch, my bike topples over and I'm sent to the muddy ground. It takes me a second to gather my senses as I warily pick myself up and try and get a glimpse of what I just saw. My heart starts racing faster as I hear an alarming and indistinct growling. I'm whimpering at this point but I don't care. I ditch my bike without a second thought and book it as fast as I can in the direction of my house.

I'm sniveling and panting as I make it through the fog that covers the road in front of my house. I make it on to the porch, throw open the door, and slam it shut just as fast. My fingers fumble to secure every single lock on the door and for the first time in my life I wonder why we don't have more. All the while, Chester is barking like crazy.

"Mom?" I'm running through the house looking in every room for any sign of my mom or Jonathan.

"Jonathan? Mom?"

'Crap they must be working. Crap! No No No!'

I run back into the living room and throw the blinds over my head, wincing as it hit the back of my head. But I waste no time in cupping my hands up against the glass to get a better look at the yard to see if I can spot the figure.

My stomach drops what feels like ten stories.

I can see it in the distance right between the sheets that were hung out to dry.

It's just standing there. Menacingly. (a/n: If you understood that reference, and actually thought it was funny let's be friends please 😂)

It starts stomping towards the house.

I gasp and start running for the phone.

I hastily pick the phone up from the mount and my fingers are shaking as I try and dial 911 as fast as possible.

I can hear it ringing. I can hear the click as if someone picked up. I waste no time, "Hello? HELLO?!"

All I can hear over the phone now is static, and then a disturbing, yet familiar screech-like growl. Chester's barking is getting louder and more frequent indicating that It's right outside. I slowly peer around the corner to look at the glass window on the door and I can barely make out the menacing shadowy figuring looming outside the door. I can hear it growling from outside.

Chester's barks quickly turn into whimpers as he backs away towards me.

Then the unthinkable happens.

The chain lock on the inside of the door starts unlocking itself.

'Shit!'

At this point, I realize I'm never going to be able to outrun it so I'm going to have to at least try to defend myself. I remember the gun we keep in the shed out back and make a run for it, not even bothering to hang up the phone. I nearly trip on my own feet as I run for the shed. I make it inside and slam the shed door behind me in the process. I quickly but carefully take the gun off the wall and set it on the shelf as I scramble for the ammo. My fingers are still trembling as I fumble to put the bullets in the magazine.

Once I finally get the magazine in, I pick up the gun and aim it at the shed door waiting. It seems as though I can't even keep the gun steady since my entire body is completely tremoring, even my unsteady breaths.

It has to be close by now.

As if on cue I hear the deep growling that I've already heard twice tonight and for a couple of moments I think it's outside. But then I realize why it sounds so close.

It's in the shed with me.

It's behind me.

The fear is nearing paralyzing, but I still manage to command my body to turn around to get a look at this relentless monster. When I see it I just stand there in utter disbelief, the gun slowly and subconsciously lowering to my side in shock. I'm completely frozen in place as I stare at the beast in front of me. The hanging light bulb above me glows intensively brighter with every passing second. The last thing I see before I'm cloaked in pure white light and an unbearable chill is the monster's long arm reaching out for me.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[alvhiedeir]

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and  a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't  obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone.  He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!

[hearteyes-candyskies]

mint

yandere enji x reader

summary; every gardner knows that if you leave mint unchecked it'll take over the whole garden. enji hasn't checked up on you in a while

a/n; a continuation of houseplant and commish for @neroesecuzioni

tw; pregnancy, implied abortion, threat of physical abuse, a baby walks into enji’s fiery body and disappears in like the first couple paragraphs

word count; 4.1k

🌱

It’s the same dream again. You hold your son in your arms, his hazel eyes round and wide, gazing at you with a look so pure and curious and knowing that you can’t fathom any other option except to love him. His small hands grab at your face as you rock him in your arms, humming a simple melody as his eyelids slowly close. 

The sight of his perfectly content face as he sleeps brings a flood of joy through your heart like you’ve never known before, and you set him down gently in his crib before turning to do something else. It’s always something different every time; you go to warm up a bottle, you leave to get his stuffed animal from the wash, or maybe you go to get a cool washcloth for his slightly too-warm face. The result is always the same.

You return, object in hand, to find an empty crib. You turn around, frantically searching for your son, only to look out the window and see Enji’s burning form in the backyard. As you rush down the stairs and out the back door you finally see him- your son, the joy and love of your life, crawling towards your husband who looks at him with little more than cool indifference on his face. 

On good nights, you wake up then, sweat coating your body and chest heaving as you calm your racing pulse and convince yourself that it’s just a dream. Most of the time, though, you watch, rooted to the spot and horrified as your perfect, sweet, helpless little baby crawls straight into your husband’s fire. It doesn’t help that he vanishes almost as soon as the flames hit him. If anything, the uncertainty of his fate hurts worse. 

On these nights, the sight of Enji’s callous blue eyes are the last thing you see before you wake, cold enough to burn. You always wake with tears on your cheeks, sheets tangled from your thrashing. Enji used to wake with you, trying to soothe you in the best attempt that he could manage, but after one too many panicked blows to the face he’s given up, merely moving to the downstairs couch whenever it happens. 

You can’t tell if you’re disappointed by that or not. In the past month your dreams have been getting more and more frequent, almost always ending with the image of Enji’s cold blue eyes seared into your brain, and you can’t tell what that means. 

You don’t want to know what that means. 

🌱

Lately, the garden has become a place of refuge for you. What started as a meager little plastic pot holding a pathetically wilted tomato plant has now become two full garden beds and a hearty-looking peach sapling. The mint plant has its own cute little terracotta pot, lest it terrorize and take over the rest of your carefully-tended plants. 

As the frequency of your dreams increase, so does your time spent gardening. The raised beds are bursting with plants and produce, and you’re starting to eye the yard surrounding your little garden as free real estate. 

You’ve been saving newspapers for a while now, with Enji buying you one every time he leaves the house, and now all you need is a bag or two of mulch and some straw. And maybe also some wooden stakes and chicken wire. And more wood for more garden beds. And seeds for the new beds. 

Okay. Maybe you need a little more than you thought. At this point it would just be easier for you to go and pick it up yourself; you know exactly what you need and if you think of something else you want you don’t have to frantically text Enji and pray that he reads it in time.

You haven’t been outside for such a long time. Well, you’re outside right now, but like, outside in society? When was the last time you stepped foot in a supermarket? As a matter of fact, when was the last time you set foot off the property? Your inability to answer those questions leaves you restless and desperate to prove your independence. 

Maybe…no... Enji’s made it clear on numerous occasions that you’re not leaving the house. Except, he can’t really be thinking about keeping you here forever, right? He’ll reintroduce you to society, he has to, even if it’s not for another month or so. You assume that it’s been about six months since you were first brought here. 

The hunger for a taste of the outside world plagues you for the rest of the morning, and you find yourself unable to concentrate on anything. It’s after lunch that you grow bold and restless enough to finally broach the topic with Enji, satiated by a light meal that just happened to use some of the vegetables from your garden. The fact that you’re drinking lemonade made with mint from the garden is also a coincidence. 

“So, I was thinking about expanding the garden this morning. I’ve got enough newspaper to cover the amount of land that I want to turn into beds and I just need a couple things from the store?” Enji grunts in acknowledgement, looking up briefly from his reports.

“Write them down and I’ll get them from the store tomorrow.” Your fingers twist nervously and you take a deep breath.

“I was actually thinking that I could go with you?” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, and you curse yourself for it. Not that it matters, apparently, because Enji doesn’t even look up again. You wait a second before repeating yourself. Maybe he just didn’t hear you correctly?

“I was thinking that I could go with you to pick the supplies up. It’s a lot to get and that way if I forget to write something down on the list I’m already there and don’t have to text you to make a double trip.” At your calm, firm tone Enji finally raises his head, putting the tablet down. 

“That’s nice, y/n.” You lean forward expectantly, waiting to hear his approval. He reaches for the tablet again, and you feel a spike of irritation lance through you.

“Can I go?” It takes a lot of effort for you to ask civilly, though it’s rewarded by Enji’s mildly surprised reaction.

“You were serious?” You stare in shock? Were you serious? Were you serious? Is he fucking serious?

“Yes, Enji, I’m serious! It’s been-” You stand, pausing to scroll through the calendar on your phone, looking for the little marker you placed on the day that you first woke up here. You scroll for a very long time.

“It’s been a little less than a yea-” You choke. “It’s been a little less than a year since I’ve first got here.” He says nothing, face dangerously neutral, and you slowly step forward, holding one of his massive hands in both of yours. 

“Please. I want to be able to go outside again.” There’s a subtle tick in his jaw.

“You can go outside. We have a yard. You have your garden.” You give his hand a little shake. 

“Enji, please. You know what I mean. I want to be able to get in a car and drive myself to get groceries or seeds or whatever else I need.” Again, that tightening of his jaw.

“I already get you what you need.” You feel tears of frustration sting the back of your eyes, and force yourself to take a deep breath.

“You know I won’t try to run. Please, I would never leave you like that. Haven’t I done everything that you wanted since I came here? Enji, I just want to have some control over my life back. I was a pro, I used to disappear for missions for weeks at a time but I always came back. Why can’t you trust me to come back to you after a trip to the grocery store?” Tears are beginning to blur your vision, but you can still make out the softening of Enji’s face as he listens to you. You feel hope start to soar in your chest and-

“You’re so cute when you’re passionate. We can talk about this later.” The hope thuds down to your stomach, quickly dissolved in a pool of irritation and anger. You resist the urge to squeeze his hand as hard as you can and instead stroke your thumb across it as soothingly as you can.

“Enji, you’re eventually going to let me go about a semi-normal life, right? We can start now, with you watching me.” Your voice is light and encouraging, and Enji raises an eyebrow, somewhat placated.

“When did I say that?” Involuntarily your grip on his hand tightens. 

“What?” He looks you straight in the eyes, gaze mildly patronizing.

“When did I say that?” You sputter.

“I just- You- You can’t be planning on keeping me locked away forever! I’ve been so good for you and I’ve done everything you wanted and eventually you’ll let me out of the house, right?” Enji just stares at you, unmoved.

“I’ve already let you out of the house. Where do you think the garden is?” Something deep seated and ugly within you snaps, and you throw his hand down and away, flinging your own out.

“ENJI! I’ve stayed here and done everything you’ve asked of me, I’ve fucking gotten down on my knees to clean up and suck your dick, I’ve fucked you without complaint and you won’t let me go to the store? I had a perfect mission completion rate before you took me, you know.” You sneer.

“Except you wouldn’t because you didn’t bother to learn anything about me before you took me. Do you know how many men I could’ve killed in the dead of night, how many men’s throats I could’ve slit as they lay beside me? Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t decided to do the same to you.” 

The shock on his face quickly gives way to anger, and you scoff at the way flames dance along his hands. 

“Go ahead. Burn me. Mark me like your property, cripple me like you crippled your fucking wife and like how your wife marked your son. Maybe after you brand me I’ll start to love you more.” Flames burst out along his whole body and face, until you’re no longer looking at Enji, only Endeavor.

“You ungrateful little bitch!” He swings his arm down, hellfire in his grasp, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. If he wants to hurt you he can hurt you. You both know there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

His hand stops millimeters away from burning off your face, flames vanishing abruptly in what you know is a massive show of power. His fist trembles before falling, and when you look him in the eyes again his face is confused and awe-struck. 

“You would have let me hit you.” The words come out whispered and reverent. Your tears fall in a silent stream down your cheeks.

“When have I ever been able to stop you?” There’s nothing Enji can say to that, and nothing more that you have to say to him, and slowly, laboriously, you climb the stairs and make your way back to your old bedroom. 

🌱

When you open the door you’re met with the same sight you saw after first waking here, and the memory alone is almost enough to break you. Apparently Enji’s love for you alone isn’t enough to grant you even a sliver of control. Apparently, Enji’s never truly loved you.

The world outside is dark by the time you decide to stop sulking. Enji barricaded himself in your, no, his room shortly after you slammed the door on your own and left once to fix himself dinner. You’re pretty sure that he’s been done for a while, but just to make sure you peek your head out the door, listening intently for any sounds of movement.

Upon hearing none, you creep your way down the stairs, finding the kitchen lights on but the room empty, to your relief. Your stomach growls, and you hurry to make a simple dinner of rice and miso soup with pan-fried fish cakes on the side. Your eyes go soft as you remember how your mother used to make this for you on nights that she didn’t feel like cooking. 

The meal comes together in minutes, and your mouth waters as you sit down at the dinner table to take your first bites. You don’t even taste what you're shoveling in your mouth for the first few bites until you do, and suddenly you’re making a mad dash for the bathroom. 

Nothing comes up, thankfully, but you spend a good minute or two gagging and producing spit. Okay, maybe you ate too fast. It’s when you catch sight of the pregnancy test in the trash that you pause. Enji doesn’t give you birth control and he sure as hell doesn’t wear a condom, so to soothe your anxieties you ordered a bulk box or pregnancy tests online and take a test every week. You’ve been lucky so far, but…

The hastiness with which you open the box makes you fumble it, and you take a minute to calm yourself. As you set the test aside after peeing on it, you think about how you would go about telling Enji that you’re pregnant. Would you tell him? There have to be home-brew remedies to an unwanted pregnancy. 

Before long, the ten minutes are up. With shaking hands, you pick the box back up. For a second, you hesitate. Is this really something you want to know? What do you even want to see? You can’t answer either of those questions, so instead you just open the box, eyes closed as you grab at the little stick of plastic. 

You feel the front, orienting the test so that you’ll be able to read it, and open your eyes. The world drops out around you and you feel all the air on your body leave in a single, shaky breath. God. Maybe you should tell Enji.

🌱

You get up early the next morning, needing the extra time to prepare a traditional breakfast before Enji wakes. You hope that the familiar food will make him more amiable to what you’re about to say to him.

You’re just about done pan-frying the fish when the telltale sound of Enji’s footsteps hurrying down the stairs reaches your ears. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen, and you turn to see him looking at the already set table with a look of mild shock on his face. 

He just stands in the doorway, watching as you turn off the stove and carry the pan over to the table to serve up the fish. You place the now-empty pan back on the stove before untying your apron and getting a mug from the cabinets.

“Coffee?” His shoulders tense at the sound of your voice, and something close to guilt and apprehension crosses his face.

“Yes please.” You hum in acknowledgement, filling the mug almost all the way before pouring in a little bit of whole milk, just the way Enji likes it. You set it down on the table before going to get yourself a glass. 

Enji gingerly slides into his seat, like a child who’s not quite sure whether it’s okay for them to sneak into their parent’s bed at night. You smile at the comparison, and the relief that breaks on his face is obvious. 

You fill the glass with water, emptying the coffee grounds in the trash before taking a seat at the table. Enji stares expectantly at your glass of water, and then to the coffee pot. You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He blinks.

“Are you going to pour yourself a cup of coffee?” Enji’s voice is mild and hesitant, like he’s afraid that the smallest change in tone will set you off. You slide into your seat at the breakfast table, setting your glass of water down.

“Oh, honey, too much caffeine isn’t good for the baby.” The effect of your words is instantaneous. There’s a look of guarded wistfulness in his eyes, mouth slack with surprise and his formerly clenched hand soft as he reaches for yours. You let him take it.

“The baby?” He glances down at your stomach, as if it’ll confirm what he’s hearing. “You’re...pregnant?” You give him a sweet, affirming smile.

“Judging by when my last period was I’m two weeks in.” Enji rises from his seat, walking around the table to kneel between your legs, a large hand splayed reverently across your abdomen. 

“I’m going to be a father again.” This is both the happiest and weakest you’ve ever seen Enji in your life. This is probably the happiest and weakest he’s ever been in his life. Then, like a bucket of ice-water being dumped on him, his mood switches.

“You don’t want a baby.” There it is. The realization you were waiting for. You smile with far too many teeth, eyes cruel and sharp.

“But you do.” The words hit him like a slap across the face, and sadistically, you revel in the pain his inner conflict causes him.

“You don’t want a baby.” Enji repeats his words dumbly, as if saying them again will make them make sense. Your smile grows wider.

“But you do.” You take his hands in yours, squeezing gently. “Everything that I do is for you, isn't it? My life revolves around you.” He yanks his hands back as if he’s been burned. 

“Stop. Stop this.” You lean forward, until your noses are almost touching.

“Stop what, Enji? Stop trying to please you? Stop trying to mold myself into the perfect image of your wife? Stop fulfilling every foolish wish you made in bringing me here? Stop what?” He swallows hard, blue eyes wary.

“Y/n, stop this.” There’s a slight growl to his voice. You press on.

“You could stop this. Force me to swallow plan B. Take me to a clinic. Push me down a flight of stairs. Take a coat hanger and-”

“STOP!” His voice rings out, desperate and pained, and finally, you acquiesce, face grave and serious.

“I always wanted kids, you know. If you had just dated and married me properly I would have given them to you, happily.” Your eyes go fuzzy around the edges, gaze faraway and wistful. 

“I wanted a girl, first. A sweet daughter to spoil and coddle. And then another, so that they would always have a friend. I always switched back and forth on whether I wanted a third child. I think that if I were to have one, I would want a son.” Your eyes refocus, spearing Enji with a look far too knowing and cognizant. 

“You know, the youngest child always learns faster. They have their siblings to model after. How does that sound, Enji? A strong, talented, prodigy of a son. Finally a child worth neglecting the others for.” 

His face is tight with pain, and you tread carefully. Not because you’re afraid of what will happen should he shatter, but because you haven’t decided whether he would be more useful broken. You lay a delicate hand on your stomach, rubbing gently as if you can feel the baby kicking.

“Do you think that the daughters would come back and visit a father who was never there for them? Do you think that they would still see the man who cast them aside for their younger brother as a father? Would they call you daddy as they reach for your credit card? Or maybe they would call you father, in the same way you call a teacher sir. Maybe even Enji, if they’re feeling bold enough. Bastard when they’re talking about you to their friends.” 

Enji’s hands clench spasmodically, opening and closing like the fluttering wings of a dying bird. 

“Or maybe they don’t talk about you at all. Why spare any thought for a man who obviously never thought of them?” You lean back, satisfied at the complete and utter destruction written across his face. Enji may have taken you from your life to his own, but in doing so he gave you the keys to his emotional annihilation. You don’t think that he even knew that, not until this very moment.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” His words are broken and strangled, his head bowed. You regard him with a cool sort of disdain. 

“Where was this concern for my desires when you decided that I was going to be your wife?” He hands his head, unable to look you in the eyes. 

“Is this what this is? You’re getting back at me for bringing you home?” Though his words are muffled, there’s a slight edge to them. You bristle. 

“I may have some sort of feeling close to love for you, Enji, but know that it’s not by my own choice. It’s my brain literally trying to keep me alive.” He lifts his head, blue eyes blazing.

“I know you love me. You’ve said so yourself.” You scoff incredulously, almost choking on your own spit.

“You think saying something makes it true? Oh my god, I pity you, Enji Todoroki.” His fists clench once more, anger and humiliation boiling just under the calm facade that he forces onto his face. He says nothing, not that there’s anything to say. 

You let him stew in his own fury and shame for a minute or two before sighing and shifting in your chair, watching as his ire is slowly replaced with a look of deep, intense apathetic sadness. 

“I’m not actually pregnant.” The emotions that play across his face at that are instantaneous; first relief, then grief, then yearning, then resignation. 

“That’s probably for the best.” Enji sounds so, so tired. You’re sure you look just as much so. The food on your plate no longer looks appealing, and you push it away, going to pour yourself a cup of coffee. 

For a couple minutes there’s nothing but the sound of you sipping at your coffee and Enji finishing off his breakfast. It’s when he sets his chopsticks down that you finally break the silence. 

“Do you really think you love me? Like, when you say ‘I love you’ do you actually mean it?” Enji looks at a loss for words, and you tilt your head slightly to the side. “Do you even know what it means?” In what might be the most humbling act of his life, Enji slowly shakes his head. You sigh. 

The look of shock and mistrust on his face as you cross the table to straddle his lap and place your hands on his shoulders is almost amusing, but you force yourself to stay focused. 

“Enji, with the way our relationship is now, I can never love you. I may feel sexually attracted to and affection for you but love requires some level of respect and I don’t respect you because of what you’ve done to me and how you’ve handled it.” He opens his mouth, probably to protest, and you squeeze his shoulder to get him to shut it.

“Maybe you don’t need me to love you, and I get that. Companionship and sex aren’t poor substitutes for that. But when you have your kids and they ask why mommy never leaves the house and why you and mommy fight every night when you think they’re asleep, well, I expect that companionship and sex won’t fix that.” You slide off his lap, going to get yourself a mug of coffee.

“I’ll love my kids. But will they love you once they know what you’ve done? Because half of them will be from me and I know that I will never love you if you refuse to change this relationship you have with me.” 

Cream, a little bit of sugar, you stir your coffee before taking a sip and watching his face. The breakfast table isn’t really the ideal place to be having moral crises at, you know, but you don’t think that Enji’ll complain about it. You sit back down, not touching a bit of your food as you watch what could be spiteful silence or genuine consideration play across his face. 

It’s after the five minute mark that you consider speaking up, reminding him that though you’ve had plenty of chances to run recently you haven’t. Knowing Enji though, you think it’ll do more harm than good. It’s when your tense silence hits the ten minute mark that Enji looks up, jaw set mutinously. 

“We can go to the hardware store today.” He spits the words out like poison, but you smile anyways, a bright cheery thing that has Enji’s rock-like expression melting slightly. You swoop in for a short kiss before picking up your plate to put away for later, smile growing wider as you hear Enji huff and begin eating again. 

You know this isn’t a guaranteed road to freedom yet, but you like to think that you’re pretty similar to the innocuous looking mint plant in your garden. Enji’s just buried you in open ground. 

🌱

commission a fic here

[ibijau]

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right.” said by Jiang Cheng! Hm, could you make this mingcheng???

This one got away from me so it’s a tiny bit longer than the usual, oops?

The problem was that strictly speaking, it wasn’t a garden. It was just a patch of dirt on the side of a long abandoned construction project that had never been completed due to lack of funds, or embezzlement, or some other bullshit that Jiang Cheng had never cared enough about to try and find out.

It wasn’t a garden.

But Jiang Cheng had been planting flowers there, out of sheer boredom, because he lived right next door and missed the greeneries of his parents’ house. Their garden had always been gorgeous, perfectly maintained by his mother, an absolute work of art. It was the only place she seemed happy. It was the only thing Jiang Cheng missed about his old life. Those quiet moments when his mother, in a fit of good mood, took him around her garden, her one true love, and explained to him about the plants and how to best care for them. People in their circle would sometimes joke that Zu Ziyuan loved her garden more than her family.

Jiang Cheng had never found it funny. Perhaps because he knew what it was like to envy mulberry leaves for the tenderness with which Yu Ziyuan would remove caterpillars from them, when she could hardly be near her son without pushing him around.

For a while, Jiang Cheng had hated gardens. That wasn’t the whole reason why he’d moved to the city, but it had probably impacted his choice anyway. He’d wanted to get as far away from his parents’ life as he could.

But in the end, something must have run in his blood. After months of walking by that abandoned patch of dirt, Jiang Cheng had given in one day. He’d bought some bulbs and seeds, a beginner’s guide to gardening, and set out to work.

It had surprised him when flowers actually started growing. Jiang Cheng was used to failure, and his mother used to tell him he had no skill for gardening. No skill for anything really, but gardening in particular seemed to piss her off. 

But there were some wallflowers and geraniums to prove she’d been wrong about this.

About other things too, perhaps. For the time being, Jiang Cheng just clung to the gardening thing.

The entire first week after the flowers started growing, Jiang Cheng expected that whoever owned the plot of land would come to pour bleach on them. It was private property after all. But the plot appeared to be fully abandoned, and that meant Jiang Cheng was free to do as he pleased.

He got more flowers, making sure to pick varieties that were good for bees, because that would make his sister happy, if he ever got around to calling her. He also planted tomatoes, and after hesitation a few courgettes, because those grew like weeds and it wouldn’t matter if someone stole a few, or even all of them. It was the sort of things that’d make his brother happy, except he talked to him even less than to his sister, so Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure why that mattered.

What mattered was that the garden made him happy in a way he hadn’t been in a while. It gave him something to care about. To care for. Something to check on in the morning as he headed out to work, a place to spend a little time when he came home. It encouraged some of the neighbours to chat with him, when up until then they’d apparently half wondered if he was a serial killer with his constant angry face. The little old lady next door asked if she could borrow some of the vegetables growing, and gave him half the dish she made using them.

It felt like a homecooked meal, in a way the family gatherings he still occasionally attended never did.

“You should try planting daylilies,” she suggested. “Pretty and delicious, it’d be a win. My grandmother used to prepare them for us, I’m sure I can remember how to do it too.”

Jiang Cheng did as she asked, and sweet old madam Wen delivered on her promise when the flowers were ready. She invited Jiang Cheng to have lunch with him one Sunday, when her nephew and niece were there. It should have been awkward, but madam Wen was a cheerful old lady that managed to get all three of them chatting as if they’d always known each other.

Better than if they’d always known each other, in Jiang Cheng’s case.

He ended up trading phone numbers with both siblings. Not because he felt like flirting with either, as their aunt so clearly hoped for, but so he knew who to contact if something happened to the old lady. Wen Qing wasn’t very chatty, except to complain about their roommate from hell, but Wen Ning often asked for photos of the garden, and in exchange sent Jiang Cheng pictures of the dogs he got to see at the veterinary clinic where he worked.

For the first time in years, Jiang Cheng felt that things weren’t so bad.

So when one evening after work he dropped by his garden and saw a stranger in an expensive thought pacing by his courgettes, Jiang Cheng felt a familiar dread. If this was the plot’s owner, if he had come to ruin things…

Jiang Cheng rushed ahead, ready to plead his case.

Then stopped after a few steps when the man turned his way. He was handsome. Very handsome. The sort of handsome that belonged on the pages of a magazine, not in the middle of Jiang Cheng’s shitty illegal garden.

The man was also on the phone with someone, and apparently so deep in an argument that he didn’t even see Jiang Cheng just a few metres from him.

“You are the worst,” the man shouted at his phone, “and I swear I’m kicking you out this time. I will… no, don’t cry. Stop crying, it doesn’t work anymore! You…”

The handsome stranger started pacing nervously between the courgettes as whoever was on the other end of the conversation made their case.

“Listen, you are going to calm down, ok? I’m… hey, I’m bringing you flowers. How does that sound?”

He leaned down toward the daylilies, not yet picking one as he waited for the other person to reply.

“Of course real flowers. You… listen, I don’t have the energy for this. We’ll deal with it when I get home.”

The man hung up, and started tearing away Jiang Cheng’s flowers, roots and all, like a barbarian.

Jiang Cheng had always allowed everyone to take what they wanted or needed, but only if they showed some respect for his efforts.

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right!” he barked, stomping toward the man.

The handsome stranger, startled, dropped the flowers.

“Your garden? What do you mean, your garden?”

“You think this got here on its own?” Jiang Cheng asked, gesturing at his garden. It wasn’t as beautiful as his mother’s, but it was his all the same and it loved his plants.

The man looked around with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t even noticed before where he was.

“Sorry, I thought they were just… wild flowers. Did you plant all of those?”

“Not the pumpkins, that’s the kids from down the streets who thought it’d be fun. And the herbs are madam Wen’s because she doesn’t like getting them from the store if she can get fresh ones. But the rest is mine.”

“Must have been a lot of work,” the man said with an admirative whistle. “I can make a cactus die of thirst, so I’m impressed, you must be really good. You’ve been at it for a while?”

“A couple months,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, refusing to let praise from a handsome man get to him. “I live next door and this place has been abandoned for ages apparently.”

“So it’s not your garden,” the stranger noted with a grin. “Well, if you’ve stolen the land, I feel less bad about stealing flowers. It’s not like you can call the cops on me.”

He bent down, ready to slaughter more flowers, so Jiang Cheng did the logical thing and pushed him to protect his daylilies. The handsome stranger fell in the dirt, which thankfully was dry and wouldn’t stain too badly. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure he could afford to repay that suit.

“If you’re going to steal my flowers for your shitty manipulative wife, at least do it properly. Nobody wants a bouquet with roots.”

The man blinked a few times, a little disoriented after being pushed down. When he saw Jiang Cheng grab the torn daylilies and carefully cut the stems so he could replant the roots, the stranger laughed.

“You’re really passionate about this, uh,” he said, standing up and wiping the dirt from his suit. “That wasn’t my wife on the phone, by the way.”

“Your manipulative husband then,” Jiang Cheng retorted, cutting a few more flowers.

“Little brother,” the man corrected. “Apparently he got drunk last week, slept with my best friend, panicked, ghosted him, left town for five days to hide at his best friend’s house, and now he’s… ah, but you probably don’t care.”

Jiang Cheng shouldn’t care, no, but he couldn’t help laughing at the crazy story. It sounded like something right out of a shitty soap opera, or the kind of bullshit that Wei Wuxian used to pull all the time, back when he was still part of Jiang Cheng’s life.

“My brother’s the same,” Jiang Cheng said, handing out the small bouquet he’d managed to salvage. “Did you take those so he can go apologise to your friend?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s going to give them to Xichen or if he just wants to keep them to feel spoiled. I’m not sure I’ll give them to him, anyway. It’s not every day a handsome man gives me a bouquet, I’ll be tempted to keep it.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and rolled his eyes, and absolutely did not blush like a schoolgirl being complimented by her crush.

“Just go give those to your brother. And learn to cut flowers properly, asshole.”

“If I drop by again, will you teach me?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged again and turned away, so it wouldn’t be too obvious just how red his face was. He’d have slapped himself if he could have. It was ridiculous to react so strongly. His only excuse was that the man was really, really gorgeous and had a really, really nice voice… and that it had been a long while since anyone had flirted with him, even this badly.

“Maybe I will, if I can find the time. My life’s not a fucking soap opera but I have my own stuff to do.”

“Fair enough. Well, I hope I’ll see you around. It was nice talking to you.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged, and refused to turn around to watch that too handsome man go, though he might have been slightly tempted.

He’d lost enough time to that asshole already, and the tomatoes weren’t going to water themselves.

[nagitoshopejar]

Ooh! For the prompts, maybe 10 with Ishimondo? I love the idea of Mondo really hating his laugh because of how goofy and loud it is! Like, he’s all “biker gang leaders don’t laugh like that!” And Taka’s all “Well, they are now!” X3

Words: 1028

Summary: Mondo hates his laugh so Taka decides its his time to do something.

AN: Uncle if you see this you really dont have to read this. This blog is a T-word blog so it has T-word fics and therefore its not necessary for you to read it.

AN pt.2: I akin to this prompt since I hate the sound of my own voice and laugh. I sound like a broken stove top kettle trying to fix itself while dragging behind, a wagon thats missing 1.5 wheels.

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

Mondo and Taka had been hanging out in their shared dorm after school. Mondo had chucked himself, lazily on him bed without taking off his loafers nor his jacket. Taka on the other hand, was carefully undoing his boots and taking off his over shirt, laying it on the back of the chair, sitting at the desk.

"What a great day! Wouldn't you say so too, Kyodai?" Taka was always such a boastful person when it came to his learning abilities.

"I don't understand what you mean." Mondos voice was gruff, and tired sounding, "I don't know what you mean. We just sit in the same spot all day and we don't learn anything. Its the same everyday!" He sighed under his breath and squinted at the bright ceiling titty that lit up the dim rooms, the hopes peak students lived in.

"What do you mean? I think we learned lots today!" He put his hands on his hips with a wide smile, as if he was proud of himself. It was then, Mondo decided to stop blinding himself by staring at the light. He blinked away floaties before looking at his boyfriend.

"Maybe you do, but I don't think I have the ability to learn anything." Mondo layed his hands under his head, intertwining the fingers as to not slip.

"You don't understand Kyodai!" Taka walked over, sitting on the bed, next to Mondo, and gave his boyfriend a small kiss on the forehead, pushing his corn hair back a little. Mondo winced at the kiss as if he was in pain, but Taka knew he just wasn't used to it, due to the smile planted on the bikers face. Taka chuckled under his breath, still close to Mondos face. Takas breath lightly grazed the taller boys neck making him giggle. His smile quickly turned to dissatisfaction as he groaned a little. "Something wrong, love?" He requested an answer from the boy under him.

"No no, I'm fine." Mondo suggested, but Taka wasn't going to take any of it.

"I know somethings wrong love." He forced Mondo to look at him, by taking taking his chin in his hand hand gently forcing it towards him. "You can trust me." He left a gentle kiss in Mondos nose, making his stomach fill with butterflies.

"I just don't like my laugh. I run a biker gang. Bikers shouldnt sound so stupid when they laugh. Were supposed to be intimidating. Y'know what I'm saying bro?" Taka just blinked before a creeping smile, snuck slowly onto his face.

"Oh I think I know. But now they do, y'know what I'm saying?" Takas tone dialed down to a more ominous, joking kind.

"Uhm no. I don't know what you're talking about." Mondo tried to sit up but gently pushed him back down. The soft look that Taka wore was but only a facade for what he had planned for his boyfriend.

"Oh no, where do you think you're going?" The soft facade turned to a smirk of pure amusement as his boyfriend portrayed nothing but anxiousness and confusion, which quickly switched to a wide smile that which kept a laugh behind its tough bars. "Come on, you cant hold back forever~" Takas sickeningly sweet voice only made it worse. "Besides, I think its cute!" He continued tracing shapes into Mondos torso, as he helplessly, tried to shoo away the compasses hands, holding in his giggles. "Must I work harder than I do on an average day in school to wring the giggles out of you?" Taka chuckled at the boy underneath him. His face was rivaling that of a ripe tomato. His cheeks puffed out a bit proving that he couldn't hold in the laughter much longer. All Taka had to do was get a good spot. He moved down to Mondo's belly and started squeezing the tender area. Mondo quickly shot hid hands up to cover his mouth. Supposedly as an extra defense to hide the giggles. "Tch, tch, tch." Taka closed his eyes and shook his head at the slightly squirming boy. "That was a bad move for you my friend." He shot his arms immediately into Mondos underarms, and started lightly scratching which elicited small kicks from the biker, which Taka thought was cute. "Awwww this is why I love you, Kyodai!" He giggled lightly under his breath when his Kyodai's arms shot down and his giggles escaped from their jail cell known as his mouth.

"Tahahakaaa!! Stahp!" He had a huge goofy grin on his face and somehow, was getting more red. His eyes were closed tight with tears of mirth rolling downwards.

"Ahhh theres giggles I love." He planted a kiss on the squirming boys nose.

"Stahap!! Nahaha!!"

"Now, now. Think reasonably Love. I cant stop when my hands are trapped!" He emphasized this by wiggling his fingers making the bikers giggles grow louder.

"StAHAhap!! Noho more!" Mondo giggled lightly at the sensations.

"You want more? Weird request but alright Love." He was close enough to Mondos face, that he scrunched up his neck, giggling more from the breath revealing itself to be tickly upon grazing the neck area. "All you have to do to get this to stop is just to say, your laugh is great, alright?" He whispered this to Mondo to let the warm air from his lungs tickle the boy under him as he leaned down for the ever so famous, tickly neck kisses. "Got it?"

"Nahahaha staaaahap!!" Mondo couldn't take any more and let in on Takas 'need'. "Ohok ohok my laugh is greaheat!"

"Aaaand?" Taka borrowed further into the crook of the bikers neck.

"AHAHAND ITS NOHOT DUMB FOHOR AHA BIKER LEADER TOHO SOUHOUND LIKE THIHIS!!" Taka slowed down to a point where he stopped. Mondo gulped down air greedily as he rubbed the ghost tickles.

"All better my Love?" Taka was back to his caring self.

"I... Hate you..."

"Aww I love you too Kyodai!" He beamed. "But we should finish our homework, as to not get in trouble!" He smirked down at the boy.

"Oh no, not yet. I still haven't gotten my revenge!" Mondo stated regaining his composure.

[kissesinthekitchen]

Yours

Prompt: The one where a flirty waitress oversteps her boundaries and you want to remind Harry who he belongs to. 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Smut and fluff. Jealousy. Sex in public. Word count: 5,565. Rated mature.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Mine! In my head, this is sort of a sequel, but you don’t need to have read the first story to understand it. Jealous!reader was a lot of fun to write this time. I would really appreciate any love or feedback. Hope you like this! x

The guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the bathroom is all you need to know.

“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.

You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands. 

“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “Baby. Sit down.”

Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that says he’s mine. 

-----

Harry always treats food like a peace offering. 

Once, when you had a conference to attend out of state on your birthday, he paid for a buffet of Mexican food to be catered and sent to the hotel you and some of your friends from the department were staying at. Complete with a birthday cake, so you knew he was thinking of you. And another time, when he was in France working on something for Gucci and you couldn’t get off work to join him because of a bunch of parent-teacher meetings, he had an extravagant box of French macarons and pink tulips shipped overnight from Paris just so he could Facetime you from the same cafe later, so it could be like you were there together. When you’re upset, when you miss him, when you want to reconnect, it’s always either in bed or over a good meal. 

Today, he had chosen a sunlit fancy Italian bistro with high ceilings, and green ivy plants and glass chandeliers clinging to each other for decoration. White and brick red speckled walls. Harry had squeezed your hand as a host led you to a booth towards the back of the restaurant.

The food they serve tastes as good as it looks. Crunchy bruschetta with sweet basil and tomatoes. Soft pillows of warm gnocchi served over roasted butternut squash and crispy fried herbs and salty pancetta. For entrees, you’d ordered a zesty lemon chicken piccata with capers, while Harry ordered a delicious eggplant parmesan. And together, you’d decided to share an order of linguine with clams - just because you couldn’t help yourself. Harry loves food, but more than that, he loves seeing how much you love food. If anyone asks, he’d probably say that your love language is trying new restaurants together. 

And yet, while the food and the ambiance - there’s nothing like watching Harry’s face over candlelight- had been amazing, you’re sure this has still probably got to be one of the worst meals you’ve ever had.

This is confirmed later. If the guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the bathroom is all you need to know. 

“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.

You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. 

Harry is resting his face in the palm of his hand. Loose curls framing his face, the top buttons of his black shirt unbuttoned beneath a soft velvet jacket of the same color. He looks relaxed, if not, a little amused. 

You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands. 

“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “Baby. Sit down.”

It’s been more than an hour of this. The waitress offering Harry one sided conversation and squeezing his bicep and biting her lip and treating you like you’re fucking invisible. You feel like you already know too much about her. 

Her name is Giselle because of course it is. Her sweeping blonde hair cascades down over her shoulders in a way that makes you feel a pang in your chest because - and you’ll never say this outloud but- she reminds you of a model, reminds you of so many of Harry’s exes. The women who used to rent space in his head and in his bed.The women he loved and wrote songs about before he met you. 

You can’t help but flinch and grit your teeth every time she tries to make a move on Harry. She declares that she always wanted to study abroad in London. She saw One Direction three times when they were together. She licks her lips and asks Harry if he needs help finding places to go or stay while he’s in town, in a voice that makes you feel like she means her bed. And she frowns when Harry tries to bring you into the conversation, you’re like ninety-nine percent sure she scoffed when he said you were a teacher. The audacity of it all. 

It’s not that you’re surprised. Harry is well, Harry. You’re used to sharing him with most of the world. He’s got the biggest heart you know, and he’s a huge flirt. Women are drawn to him like mosquitos are to blood. But you never thought you’d have to deal with another girl on the night you’re supposed to be celebrating your engagement. Maybe Harry was right to have tried to persuade you to stay home, in bed with takeout- that would have required much less sulking. 

To his credit, Harry brushes her off, but he’s still entirely too polite. When she places a hand on his shoulder to give him the wine menu, he gives her a solemn nod. When she cups his hands in hers and throws a wink over her shoulder as she walks away, he politely wrenches his hand away and throws her back a look that is something caught between a frown and a smile as he meets your eyes. 

“She really did it.”

“Darling-” he starts. 

“She really fucking did it.” you say, appalled and irritated. Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that says he’s mine. 

“You’re jealous,” Harry says. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” you say quickly. The brightness in his eyes seems to grow at your quip, and you almost feel like slapping him now. 

“Oh baby,” he says, his arm reaching around to cling to the part of the booth that is behind your neck.

“What can I do baby? How can I make it better?” he chuckles in your ear, when you cross your arms around your chest and let out a frustrated huff like an irritated child. “How can I turn this frown upside down?” His fingers graze the spot where your eyebrows have pinched together. 

You wring the napkin in your hands. “Oh fuck off, Harry-“ 

“M’serious love,” but there is amusement in his face and you feel like elbowing him in the chest right now. “How do I show you that you don’t have any reason to be jealous?” 

A moment passes, your nails are tapping impatiently against the throat of your wine glass before you hear Harry’s low voice tell you to look at him. 

“Should I fuck you here?” he raises an eyebrow, his grip on you tightening. The broadness of his back moving so he’s blocking you from view. “Would that show you, sweetheart?”

“Stop making fun of me.” 

He moves closer. “M’I’m not. Promise. Bit cute, actually. Seein’ you get all riled up.” He flashes you a heated look, the kind he usually saves for when you’re behind closed doors and his voice sounds choked. “Kind of makes my cock hard, if I’m bein’ honest. Seein’ you so jealous.”

“Harry,” you try to chastise him, but your voice just sounds just as broken. “Someone could see-” You know you aren’t the only one who spotted at least two or three photographers outside when you walked in here. 

He makes a gesture of sweeping the room with his eyes. “Everyone’s eatin.’ No one’s payin’ attention to us. ‘Sides. Noticed you didn’t say no...”

“Baby-” you try to halt him as he reaches for you then. His eyes holding your wide gaze as his hand lifts the end of your dress. 

“Tell me that if I slide my hand up, I won’t find you wet already?” 

“Harry,” you croak, your voice shaking. Your fingers stop on his wrist and his eyes still. 

A beat passes before you admit - “Harry, I’m soaked.” 

Harry watches the way your nervous demeanor melts into a grin before he grabs you.  

“Fuckin’ hell. Come here, you minx,” he closes the inch of distance between you to kiss you hard, his tongue swiping against yours. Your hands grasp his face before winding around his neck. 

Your teeth dig into his jacket, in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, to muffle your moaning when you feel him dip two of his fingers inside of you. 

He groans. “Are you gonna come for me, honey? Fuck. Gonna come all over my fingers in front of everyone?” That makes you gasp, goosebumps rising on your skin as you listen dimly to the noise of silverware banging on plates and drinks being poured, the shuffle of the waiters walking, and music on the street as day fades into night in front of the windows. 

“Harry-” you try to reason, even though your thighs are parting wider on their own accord and the grip you have on his hands is nothing but for show now. 

“‘Am having my dessert, woman,” he chuckles against your cheek, his lips and tongue swiping against your earlobe. “Let me have my dessert, hmm?”

He’s knuckles deep into you, the rings on his hand brushing against your mound. But you’re still aching, still want more of him. Your nails dig into his shoulder as you beg, “Harry. I want to be full. Make me full, Harry. “

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you by adding a third finger, and swiping his thumb back and forth against your clit. And it feels so good, your back arches closer into his touch and your thighs clench. 

“God-” you gasp at feeling him so deep. You’re trying to control your breathing, but your cunt feels so tight around the stretch of his fingers. You feel dizzy with how much you want him and need him and how much he’s giving you. 

“Feels good, yeah? Ya gonna come already, lovie?” He smiles, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight. Feels just like when you’re grippin’ my cock when I’m inside of you, huh? You want to come so bad. You look so beautiful.”

“Don’t stop Harry. Don’t stop. I’m almost-Fuck-”

“I can feel you,” he says. “Beg me, Y/N. Then I’ll let you. I’ll make you come. I promise. Just need to hear you say it. Use your words, baby.”

“Oh fuck you-“ you tell him, your voice caught in a crossroads between amusement and want. 

He smiles. “You will. But I need you to come for me first.”

He watches as you writhe beside him and you stare back through heavy lidded eyes as he works you towards your orgasm. He looks beautiful like this, really, his soft mouth wet and open. The hint of a smile on his lips. And the green of his eyes looking all the more dark and endless and intense under candlelight. Strands of his hair are shaking with the force of his arm as his hand moves beneath the skirt of your dress. 

And then it happens - you’re babbling. Half mad with the need to come. “Harry. Please Harry. Please. Please. Please let me come.”

You can feel the sweat on the back of your thighs. Harry’s grip is so tight that your skirt is almost bunched up around your hips where you’re grateful the table is covering you from view. And your legs are shaking, hips bucking up to meet Harry’s fingers and shifting back against the leather of your seat. 

“Gettin’ my fingers so wet, love. Fuckin’ me so well. Can you come now baby? Come so I can fuck you all good and proper like.”

“Harry-” you sigh. Your eyebrows knitting together, your lips trying to form a warning. You squeeze the shoulder of his velvet jacket with your fingers before your eyes roll back. “Fuck. I’m coming-I’m coming-”

To keep you from screaming, he smothers your lips with his mouth. You kiss him - all lips and tongue and teeth- before burying your head in his neck, exhausted, muffling your noises with his skin. 

It hits you hard again and again, and he keeps fucking you through it. His fingers relentlessly hitting that soft, tender part inside of you that makes you want to scream every time he touches it with his fingers or his tongue or his cock. Dimly, you’re aware of him talking you through it too - telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how amazing, in between his own gasps of “Come on. Yeah. Yeah. Yes-” It’s as if Harry needs to see you come as much as you need to feel it. 

You let out a frustrated groan when he finally slips his fingers from your cunt, frowning at feeling so empty without him. But you’re grateful when he takes pity on you by kissing you. 

“Did so well for me, pet,” he says. He tenderly presses his fingers - that are not covered in your wetness- to pull your cheek close so he can press his mouth against your forehead where you’re sweaty and strands of your hair have escaped. You feel like jelly, which only amuses Harry even more. “Mmm.” 

“Harry.” You say, slapping his forearm lightly as he makes a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, peering up at you from his eyelashes so you can watch him lap the taste of you from his hand. Somehow the sight feels even dirtier than having just had his hand between your thighs or coming in public. You try to fix an annoyed or stern look on your face but it only makes Harry laugh harder. 

“Did you get to pick dessert, Mr. Styles?” 

“Oh shit-”

His arm is gripping the back of your seat as he turns around to face Giselle. 

“I’m sorry?” she says.

“We’ll pass on that,” Harry says, glancing down to the menu on the table. “My fiancé seems to be feeling a little ill. Where’s the nearest loo again?”

The misstep seems to catch her off guard and it makes you laugh from your place against the seat, Harry’s large hand smoothing back and forth on your knee as if to tell you down, girl. 

She clears her throat, an annoyed look passing her eyes. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.”

You’re both laughing as you all but run to the bathroom, Harry’s front colliding with your back. His long arms winding around your waist as both of your hands push the door open. He kisses you hard as you try to untangle yourself an inch to lock the door. 

It’s raw and filthy like this. Harry kneeling on the floor for a second. Pushing down your underwear. Grasping the end of your dress and pulling it tight around your hips, long enough to spread you back against him and stare at where you are still swollen and wet and aching. Clenching around nothing there. 

“Oh baby,” he says, a hint of real concern in his throat. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

You twist back to hold him by his hair. He grips you by the hips and then cranes his neck forward to kiss and lick between your thighs, tongue gliding between the folds of your pussy lips in a way that has your back bowing it feels so good. 

“Honey,” you whine. “Harry, please-”

He chuckles, leaning back to press a soft bite to the cheek of your ass before standing to his full height again. You turn long enough in his embrace to reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt and zipper without breaking eye contact. His arms are on the wall behind you, caging you in and he’s smirking. You know how much he loves this, having you undress him. 

When your hands are done, he looms forward, his body pressing you back against the sink. “Just wanted to give you a kiss.” He laughs. “Turn around for me, love. S’gonna be hard and fast. Just like you need it. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” you keen. 

You shiver as you feel and hear him take himself into his hand. He spits on his cock and then there’s the wet, telltale push and pull sound of him jerking himself off. It gives you goosebumps. You widen your stance, trying to balance yourself on your heels, and he presses a soothing hand against your back to keep you still as he slides inside of you in one smooth movement. 

God. You want to scream with relief. He feels so much deeper from this angle. Heavier. Bigger. Like you can feel him in your belly. 

One of Harry’s hands clings to yours on the sink, the heavy rings on his fingers gripping your knuckles as he bends you over. His cock feels heavy, and you feel impossibly full at this angle. 

“Ya with me love? Hmm?” He kisses the naked skin of your back and throat where your dress is exposed and you grin, meeting his face in the mirror.

“Always.”

“Fuck me back, baby.” Harry begs you, his voice needy and raw. “Fuck me back.” 

His hands don’t stop, incessantly pushing into grope your breasts. His mouth hot and wet on your neck. 

Your eyes flutter close, you love how low and gritty his voice gets when he’s this deep. It feels good. Feels like something is touching you from the inside out, god, being with him is so consuming. You want him. All of him. All the time. Everywhere. 

“Feels so good, Harry. Feel so full.” You whimper as you grind back against him, your skin singing with relief at finally feeling sated. 

When you finally open your eyes you moan again at the sight of Harry reflected back on the glass in front of you. His hair is cascading down to fall in front of his eyes, trembling with the movement of his thrusts. And he’s leaving indents in your skin, bruises you’ll marvel at in the morning. But the best part is watching him fuck you. 

He looks beautiful. Sliding his tongue over his mouth, biting into his lips as he loses himself in staring at the junction between your pussy and his cock. Watching himself disappear inside of you with each stutter and slide of his hips. When he looks up to find you staring at him, he smiles so wide and soft that it makes you tighten around him. 

“Harry,” you whimper. You want to say more but your words feel caught in your throat. He feels so good. 

“M’close, angel. You had me so hard at the dinning table. I wanna come so bad.” 

He gathers you closer and sneaks his fingers into the space between your thighs and the sink and starts rubbing your swollen clit with two fingers. Your elbows almost lose their footing on the counter when he touches you, the sensation makes you feel like your knees could buckle. 

“Oh my god, Harry-”

“You gonna come for me baby? Gonna coat my cock?”

“Yes-yes. God. Please-”

Your scalp stings where he reaches up to pull a handful of your hair. Your spine has no choice but to arch back. It hurts in the best kind of way. 

“I’m gonna make you come so hard. But you have to stay with me, okay? Listen to me, love. You’re the only one I want.” You grit your teeth on a particularly hard thrust, his hips seeming to punctuate every word of his promise. “I love you. I love you. I only want to make you come. I only want you.”

“Me too, Harry. Me too,” you squeeze his hand, reaching back to grip his hair and meet his open mouth with your lips and kiss him over your shoulder. You clench your eyes shut as you fuck back against him, meeting the slide of his thrusts with the shaking of your hips. Your throat feels heavy at his words, but your brain feels like it’s scattering. You’re so close-

“You’re shaking,” he laughs, his voice heavy with astonishment. You can only hum in response. His lips press against your forehead quickly. “Give it to me, love. Give me fuckin’ everything. I’ll catch you. I need you to come for me. Please fuckin’ come for me.”

Your body obeys him before your mind can think, you’re so weak for him. Your shoulders are shaking so hard from the effort of trying not to scream his name. It burns in your throat and on your tongue, and you try to bite your lip through it. 

“Harry,” you gasp. “Harry-”

He grips your face tenderly as if he can recognize how torn you feel. “That’s it, baby. My good girl. Did so well for me, angel. Gonna make me come too. Shit-” 

“Yes-yes. Come Harry. God. Come. I want to feel it-”

And that always does it, your begging him. He can never resist the ache in your voice. He moans into your mouth and he’s uttering your name as he lets himself let go. You talk him through it too, telling him how much you love him, how he looks so good when he comes, how you wanna feel it deep. His cock is pulsing when he’s done, and his mouth reluctantly relents, letting go of your lips as his neck rolls back and he tries to catch his breath. His release settling inside of you in a way that makes you feel soothed. Harry feels dizzy, almost delirious with relief. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he laughs, sinking his weight onto you. You don’t mind though, loving the press of him against your back. He kisses a path up your spine. “I’m so glad I get to marry you. Get to fuck you for the rest of my life.”

You giggle from beneath his chin. “And here I thought you liked me for my brain,” you tease. 

“I do,” he says. “Love your brain. And your laugh. And your cunt. All your parts, really.”

Because there’s no time to linger in the afterglow when you’re worried about someone knocking on the door, or a line forming outside, and you still have to go pay the bill for dinner - you laugh, but reluctantly squeeze Harry’s arm and kiss the side of his face.

“Babe-” you say softly. 

“Mmm, okay,” he says. 

He groans as he grasps your back, and just like in the dining room, he laughs softly when you frown as he pulls out of you. A reluctant whimper grazing your lips as your bodies separate. You take a moment to both pull yourselves together. Harry wetting towels and wadding up your underwear to get you cleaned up. 

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he laughs at the twisted look on your face when he throws them in the trash bin. 

“You better,” you joke as you try to fish your compact out of your purse. 

Harry leans back to watch you, he thinks it’s one of his favorite things to do. Watching you get ready for work in the morning, putting on perfume and pulling on your stockings. The way you always stop to give him a kiss before you leave, no matter how full your arms are of bags and lunch and coffee, art projects and homework. Or watching you get undressed and ready for bed at night, taking off your makeup and putting your lotion and nightgowns on. The way you smell after you come into your bedroom after a long bath. The way you never go to sleep without nudging him for a kiss good night, and the way your mouth always lingers before he leaves for a trip that will take him far away from you.

He’s caged you in again, one arm on the mirror watching you try to fix the smudged mess your mouth has become from his lips.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask him. You press a tender kiss to the cross on his hand and his wrist. He’s kind enough to indulge you-

“‘Course I do. Would hang up the fuckin’ moon for ya, I love you so much. I wanna give you my last name. Wanna give you everything.”

You turns in his embrace so your back is to the mirror and you can look him in the eyes. He cups the back of your neck with his long fingers and cradles your face with the other. And you grasp both of his hands with yours and let him kiss you once, twice, again with his teeth softly grazing your bottom lip. 

“I’m yours,” he promises. “I only ever want ‘ta be yours.” 

Your eyes soften. He always manages to hit you out of nowhere with sweeping declarations like this and it makes you feel like you’d be crying, if you were somewhere with more time and not just hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant, having just had a sneaky -albeit mindblowingly amazing - fuck. 

“You’re mine and I’m yours, Harry,” you vow. “Mine and yours."

He grins.  “S’what I’ve been trying to tell you! God. Stubborn.” 

He wraps both of his arms around your middle and you settle back against him, affording a second to laugh. His lips feel warm against your temple, and wet against your neck. 

“Gotta admit though. I love when you get territorial. Gettin’ all possessive, love. Bit of a turn on. Should see you jealous more often.” You watch him as he pulls the straps of your dress back up and wraps himself around you like a shadow. His face resting in your neck, pressing soft sweet, wet kisses. 

“Yeah? We could flip it. Might not be so fun when Chad at work asks me to go out for dinner or a drink when my boyfriend is out of town.”

“Hey. Hey. Fiancé,” he emphasizes with his fingers on your chin. His eyebrows wrinkling together for good measure as he flutters his fingers in front of your face. “Wait. Has he really?”

Harry meets your gaze in the mirror as you nod and explain. “So many times while you were on tour. Always knew -somehow- when you were out of town. Think he might have had your schedule memorized more than me.”

Harry groans. “Ugh. Twat. Fuckin’ Chad.” 

“Might have to assert your dominance, Harold. Gotta show him who I belong to.” You laugh. 

“Yeah? How would I do that?” Harry plays along. “Should I show up at school and fuck you in your office again? On your desk? In your classroom?”

You giggle, but feel your core flutter at the thought. Last time he did that, you couldn’t look at your desk for weeks.

You leave Harry’s offer open ended as you kiss his cheeks, his lips, his neck. He grunts when you press your mouth to his Adam’s Apple and dip your tongue and teeth into the indention in his throat that makes him melt. His favorite spot.

You reach up to wrap your arms around Harry’s neck, brushing his hair from his cheekbones. He’s growing it out long again and he looks beautiful. Your fingers are fisted around the cross on his neck and the collar of his shirt, keeping it open. And when you look up at him, his lips are beautifully puffy and blistered, a few shades short of the lipstick you are wearing.

He stares down at you, smirking and half serious.

“Want her to see the mark you left on my neck, huh?”

“Looks like a vampire had her way with your throat, babe,” you affirm, cupping his neck, your voice filled with pride at your own dirty work. 

He’s beaming when you look at him. “Photographer outside will probably get a shot of you lookin’ freshly fucked too.”

“Harry.” You jab him in the ribs, pretending to be scandalized, yelping when he squeezes your hip in retaliation.

You finish shimmying your dress back down your legs. Not bothering to tend to the mess your hair has become from when Harry fisted his fingers in it. Harry gives you a coy and knowing smile as he pulls the lock and door open, positive that you want to wear it like some sort of badge of honor, just like he wants to wear the marks on his neck. 

When you get back to the table, the agony you felt in your chest earlier has all but disappeared - but not the need to show that Harry is yours. Harry can recognize it too, especially when you ask him to leave you alone with the check and wait by the entrance. 

“Baby,” his voice narrows, but his lips are lifting at the edges. 

“I’ll be nice. Go.” 

You see Giselle catch him on the way to the door, her eyes widening when she takes in Harry’s open shirt. Your heart swells when you see him walk past her without as much as a nod. 

She catches you watching and you can see she’s trying to bury the deflated look on her face as she walks towards you, taking in your disheveled hair, your smudged lipstick. 

“Is Harry okay?”

“Harry’s fine, Giselle. In fact, he’s engaged,” you muse. “I don’t think your boss would find it very professional if they found out you were trying to slip guests your phone number while you were on the clock.”

You give her your best and broadest smile as you push the bill and cash towards her - plus a $200 tip, with her phone number facing up. You know she doesn’t miss it either, the gleam of your antique engagement ring catching and sparkling in the candlelight. It’s a vintage five carat showstopper, you know that’s why Harry picked it. It stops anyone who sees it. And you can tell because Giselle looks mortified, like she’s choking on her own confidence as she stares at it. 

She turns red. “I-I’m so sorry-” she stammers.

“Next time, make sure he’s single first. Yeah? Or maybe stop talking long enough to realize whether or not he wants you too before you humiliate yourself. Again.” You narrow your eyes and tilt your head. “Have a good night, Giselle.”

You don’t miss the way she shrinks back a little when you get up and walk past her. 

When you find him again, Harry is staring at you, his eyebrows raised. He throws you a cautious but amused, beautiful smirk as you approach. 

“There’s my misses,” he says. He extends his hand for you when you get close and you take it. “Did you get into a fight, stubborn?” 

You shake your head. “No. I left her a big tip. Decided to kill her with some kindness.”

Harry’s eyes are fond as they look at you. “That’s my girl,” he says. 

He laughs as you draw up on your toes to pull him down with both arms for a kiss, the hand with your engagement ring fisting in his hair. 

He presses both hands into the middle of spine and kisses you back. When you draw apart you don’t have to look through the window to see some cameras trying to disappear out of view. He knows what you’re doing. You’re not usually like this and neither is Harry, but you’re grateful he allows you this scene - some part of you is surprisingly thrilled at the idea of this photo. At least a few days worth of articles with you captured in front of this restaurant. Your name alongside Harry’s. Not some model, not some singer, just regular old you- who gets to share his bed and his house and -someday soon- his name. 

“Baby,” he whines into your ear. “That looked a bit...intense.”

“Did it?” you play along. 

“She looked scared shitless, love.” he admits. “Looked like you were so close to hittin’ her.”

“I felt like I could,” you laugh. “Had to show her not to mess with what’s mine. Think your ring kind of shut her up.”

He smirks, looking down to where your hands are joined. His thumb running over the diamond on your finger. 

“Mmm, got me kind of...stirred up watching.”

Your eyes widen. “Harry! Jesus. You could get hard at the drop of a hat, I swear.”

“You sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing?”

“Harry-” His hands lose themselves in your hair again. You react by tilting your neck back so he can lean down to kiss you, with both of his hands on your face, effectively shutting you up.

“I love you,” he huffs. “But can we please get the hell out of here. Really want to go home and make really loud love to my fiancé..”

“Do you now?” you tease against his jaw.

“Reckon we can be loud enough that that knob Chad hears us from his house?” His eyes flash up, and he grins at you as you laugh harder. “Just wanna be yours.” 

And how can you argue with that? You laugh as he tugs you under your arm, and you peer over his shoulder to wave and flash Giselle your ring - savoring the bewildered and embarrassed look on her face one last time- before you and Harry both disappear into the night.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I have another story based on “Adore You” that I hope to post by the end of the week. Please feel free to follow me to keep up with more stories. I’d love to have you here. <3 Or let me know what you think!

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Necessary Sacrifice

This is kind of a part 2 to You’re Next but you don’t really need to read that to know what’s happening. But I would love if you gave it a glance. . .see if you like it. . .maybe? 

Pairings: none really, reader is gender neutral

Warnings: just fluff and some language.

On any given day, Ambrose can be either a pretty boring place or sheer madness, depending on the number of people wandering around.

Today is one of the boring ones.

Vincent is in the basement working tirelessly on the towns most recent 'guests.' Bo is down at the station salvaging a few parts from the truck that those 'guests' drove into town with.

You are in the kitchen internally debating the shelf life of the boxed macaroni n' cheese you found while hunting down something for lunch.

Lester is currently walking in the front door, a little unusual given that it's noon, but not out of the ordinary.

"Hey Lester, do you know how old this- JESUS H. FUCKING CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL?!"

The smell Lester normally carries around with him is something you get use to and contrary to what the tourists think when they meet him, he does indeed bath. But this new smell hits you like a well aimed punch.

It reeks like skunk.

"That bad?" Lester chuckles, standing in the doorway, eyes watery and a little red.

"Yes! Don't you take one more step inside or so help me!" you walk cautiously from the kitchen, hand held firmly over your nose and mouth, to stare down the man now hovering on the doorstep.

"C'mon, I gotta get to the shower, this ain't exactly pleasant for me either" he shoots back.

"Nope, you're gonna stink this place out worse than when Bo tried to cook drunk, just stay outside" you wave your free hand at him, shooing him back.

"And what am I supposed to do? Wait for rain and a strong breeze?"

"No, just. . .wait outside and I'll figure something out okay? Is it just on your clothes?" you ask hopefully.

"Well, I think my hat got the worst of it" he admits, shifting uncomfortably.

You had wondered why he had looked a little off. Seeing Lester without his hat was like seeing Bo in a short sleeve shirt or Vincent without hair hanging in his face.

"Okay, I'll get some towels and clean clothes. Maybe just, rinse off with the hose and here-" you dart back into the kitchen, grab a half empty dish soap bottle and toss it at him "start scrubbing."

Figuring something out proves to be a lot more difficult given the fact that you live on a tight budget of stolen items and cash with the nearest actual town being a good hour or so drive away.

Your rummaging and general commotion eventually brings Vincent up from the depths of his workshop, Mite tagging along behind him, to find you digging around in search of baking soda.

"Oh, hey, Lester got sprayed by a skunk and I need some baking soda, any idea where it might be?" you ask with a glance over your shoulder, arms deep in a cabinet.

The answer Vincent gives you sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"Yeah, ha ha, hilarious" you deadpan and point to the pile of raggedy towels you had pulled out of the closet "now could you please go give him those please, his clothes are gonna need at least two washes."

His shoulders slump at your words and he walks like a man headed to the gallows as he picks up the pile of towels.

"Not sure if there's any left" Vincent's voice is a sharp rasp.

"Well that sucks. Definitely gonna have to put that on the shopping list. Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

Walking down the front steps of the Sinclair house, a cloth tied firmly over the lower half of your face, supplies in hand, you feel ready for battle.

Vincent is standing a good distance away from his little brother, old hose on full blast and pointed straight at Lester, who is stripped down to his threadbare boxers. Mite is calmly watching the whole ordeal from beneath a chair on the porch.

"Hey! HEY! I ain't on fire Vince! Turn that thing down would ya!" Lester yells, completely soaked, clothes in a wet pile beside his feet.

You gently tap Vincent on the shoulder with your yellow-glove covered hand and motion to the hose, which he kinks to halt the water flow.

"Okay, so this is how it's gonna go" you approach Lester, an open container in hand "add the rest of the soap to this and wash off with it, you're hair too, just don't get it in your mouth or eyes."

"What is it?" he asks, gingerly taking the mixture from you.

"Peroxide and baking soda, don't put a lid on it or it'll explode."

" 'Scues me?! An I'm jus' gonna put this all on my skin? What about tomato sauce?"

"Tomato sauce doesn't get rid of the smell it just covers it up" you tell him, as you reach down to pick up the ball of skunk drenched clothes. You hold it out as far away from you as possible.

Behind you, Vincent makes a sound like 'I told you so' at your statement and lets go of the hose to continue spraying down Lester, who gives a squawk at the undoubtedly cold water.

Once inside, you sprint to the laundry room and toss the clothes into the waiting drum of water and a diluted version of the soap, peroxide and baking soda mix. After closing the lid, the smell only lingers for a minute or two.

You open the small window in the room just to be careful. You didn't grow up in the country but you spent enough time camping to know that it's usually better to be safe than sorry.

As it turns out, Lester's hat did bear the brunt of the stink. You try not to think about how that was possible and focus on the fact that along with his hat being unbearably smelly, Lester's hair also carries a good share of the stink.

And you didn't have enough of the deodorizing mixture to go around.

When Bo comes trudging back up to the house for something he immediately forgets once he's filled in on the current Ambrose drama, he laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He doesn't offer any advice on the situation, just goes inside to grab a beer and plants himself on the porch steps, grinning, while Mite comes to sit beside him.

At that point, Lester tells the 'I Thought The Skunk Was Dead, But I Guess Not' story as he sits down in the yard to dry out. Vincent hides in the shade up on the porch, for once not looking like he wants to escape to the shelter of his workshop.

Mite is panting happily with you and Bo on either side of her as she accepts a rare petting from Bo, who seems to be unaware of what his non-beer filled hand is doing.

Lester branches off into another story, as he does when no one stops him, and you can't help but smile. It's so rare to have all the Sinclair boys in one place, not arguing or in need of some kind of first aid. You know this won't likely happen again this century, so you savor it.

The excited tone of Lester's voice, the occasional huff of amusement from Vincent, the way Bo isn't constantly tugging his sleeves over his wrists and the weight of Mite's head on your lap.

Now that you really think about it, you don't really mind the boring days Ambrose doles out every now and again.

"Hey!" you jolt up from your lounging against the steps, scaring Mite off your lap "I know how we can get the stink out of your hair Lester."

"How?" he squints over at you, the sun hitting his eyes full force now that he's without his hat.

"Just stay there, I'll go grab the clippers!" you jump up, scrambling towards the front door.

"What?! No way! N-O!" Lester begins gathering up the clean clothes.

"It's a necessary sacrifice, Les" Bo says and stands up, heading toward his brother, presumably to keep him from running off.

Vincent lingers on the steps if Bo needs back up.

Nope, you had no problem with the boring days, as long as you had your boys to help you through them.

[askthetomatogang]

Spain, this is for you... Magic Tomato seeds! 🍅 Yes, they are magic Tomato seeds! There aren't like the regular ones, because they are more sensitive, and by sensitive I mean they grow and give Tomatos if you play for it a song. Just one thing, this magic plant also has their musical preferences, if you keep playing a music that they don't like it will get mad and wild, in the other hand if you play something nice, it will give you Tomatos and dance by the rhythm. Take good care of it, Spain 😘

Spain- Really!? These are for me!? This is amazing a great gift, thank you so much!

Romano- Calm down, your getting way too excited over this you look like your going to

Spain- I have to start singing to them right away!

Romano- Singing? What are you talking about? Why did you trade our cow for these stupid seeds!?

Spain- Cow?

Romano- Yes our cow! The only way we had to make money to survive and you sold her for these worthless seeds!

Spain- Don't worry, I'll prove that their not worthless! I'll just start singing to them!

*Spain sings and the seeds grow so high over the clouds that the top can't be seen*

Spain- Look at all the tomatoes and how big they all are! I wonder how high this thing goes? And if there's more tomatoes at the top?

Romano- You just grew a giant tomato plant by singing to it and your worried about what's at the top!? And he's gone?

Spain- See you later Romano, I'm going to climb this thing!

*And so Spain climbs to the top of the tomato plant only taking one siesta on the way. When he reaches the top he sees a gigantic palace decorated in the colours red and green.

Spain- Wow that's the biggest house I've ever seen! That door is even taller then Netherlands! I wonder if they have more tomatoes inside? I'll go see!

*Spain enters the house ignoring all the warnings to turn back and starts searching for his tomatoes. When he suddenly hears a harp playing and an enchanting singing voice*

Spain- Hello? Romano did you follow me and suddenly learn to play the harp as well as sing in a feminine voice?

Belgium- Who are you!?

Spain- Oh Belgium! It's just you and Luxembourg! When did Luxembourg learn to play the harp?

Luxembourg- How do you know our names? And I've always been able to play, I'm a harp master.

Belgium- We don't get visitors here ever so it's surprising to see you are you friends with the giant?

Spain- Giant? What giant?

Luxembourg- The one who's house we're in, did you not notice all the supersized stuff?

Spain- I did think it was a bit strange like a strange design feature...

Belgium- He likes to hear our music so we live with him, Lux plays the harp and I sing, it calms him down.

Spain- Maybe you could also help calm Romano down, he seems overly angry about a cow or something. Why don't you come back with me?

Luxembourg - Leave? I don't think we're allowed to do that

Belgium- But wouldn't it be nice to see the ground? I've always dreamed of leaving.

Spain- So it's settled then! Let's go!

Netherlands- Go where? What's happening?

Belgium- Oh right! This is our big brother Netherlands, he's not musically gifted like us but if he concentrates hard enough he can turn things to gold!

Spain- Really!? Have you always had this ability? Why didn't you use it during the financial crash!?

Netherlands- What is he talking about?

Luxembourg- He does seem a bit strange but he's taking us to the ground!

Netherlands- The giant won't like that

Belgium- Please Ned! I've always wanted to go!

Netherlands- Fine but we're blaming it on him if we get caught

Spain- On who? Oh right me... Any way let's get going!

*The four of them make it back to the front door*

Portugal- Fee fi fo fard I smell the blood of an annoying Spaniard!

Spain- Portugal's the giant!? Why can't I ever catch a break!? Also what did he eat to grow that big? You guys start climbing down I'll hold him off.

Portugal- Where do you think your going with my harp player, maiden and golden man!?

Spain- I'm taking them to the ground! You can't just keep them trapped here!

Portugal- Trapped? I was paying them a good wage!

Spain- They were still trapped in your house! *suddenly makes a run for the tomato plant and starts climbing down*

Portugal- I want them back! *starts climbing down after them*

*Spain gets down to find Romano with the Benelux siblings*

Romano- Spain who the hell are all these people!?

Spain- I'll explain later! We need to chop the tomato plant down before the giant gets down here!

Romano- Giant!? This is the exact reason why you don't climb giant tomato plants!

Belgium- We'll help you!

*They all work together to cut the tomato plant down and watch Portugal the giant fall on their house*

Luxembourg- Did you kill him?

Portugal- No but my wrist feels broken, why did you do that!? You planted a tomato plant in my garden then broke into my house and stole from me then when I tried to speak to you about it you ran away then made me fall.

Netherlands- He does have a point...

Spain- Right... well do you guys want some tomatoes?

Romano- Tomatoes?! Tomatoes! You just squashed our house! What the hell are we supposed to do now!? And not to mention you need to wake up!

Spain- What?

*Spain being shaken by Romano*

Romano- I said wake up bastard! You got so excited over those tomato seeds you fainted or something, I tried to warn you to calm down!

Spain- So it was all a dream? Luxembourg can't play the harp and Netherlands can't turn things to gold? What about Portugal is he still a giant!?

Romano- What the hell are you talking about!? Did you hit your head or something?

Spain- It was a dream! So I can go and plant the tomato seeds for real now!

Romano- You're so weird...

[vicunaburger]

The Origins of Rockulus the Mighty

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical Pairing: Dewey Finn x Violet Willoughby (OC) The Players: Dewey, Violet, The Students Word Count: 1,178 Warnings: None

Notes:

- This takes place during the events of the show/movie - meaning Dewey is still posing as Ned in school  - Introducing~ my self-insert/OC~ Prof. Violet Willoughby: local English professor at a nearby college, been on a few dates and sleepovers with Dewey, is totally in on the substitute scheme

OKAY THAT’S IT HERE WE GO.

The map of Horace Green was decidedly unhelpful.

The school was built like a maze of classrooms identical in size, with no real identifying markers save for a number system poorly explained in the bottom corner of the page. Eventually, after stopping several students and faculty along the way for guidance, the visitor finally arrived at the door to Mr. Ned Schneebly’s room.

Well, technically it was Ned’s room, but Ned wasn’t teaching.

Violet adjusted the visitor’s badge that was clipped to the front of her coat, making sure it was in plain sight before she knocked on the door. A few moments went by before the door opened just a little and a female student peeked out from behind the frame. Giving a small wave to the sharply dressed student, she smiled, holding up an insulated lunchbox in her other hand.

“I’m looking for Dew- Do you know if Mr. Schneebly is in?” Violet cleared her throat, feigning a light cough. “He ran out without his lunch this morning.”

The student gave Violet a rather thorough once-over, taking note to read the text printed on her badge, “You’re a professor?”

Violet nodded, “At the college on Main. I would have brought my transcripts, but they are really expensive to have reprinted.”

Before the student could ask anymore questions, Dewey Finn opened the door the rest of the way, giving the girl a less than subtle shove, “Vivi! Come inside, don’t mind the kid. In fact, ignore all of them.”

Flashing his patented goofy smile, Dewey dragged Violet inside, kicking the door closed behind them. The students had their desks all arranged in a circle toward the blackboard, which featured a crudely drawn viking with a guitar. At it looked like a viking, judging by the horns and full beard. They all sat up at attention at the sudden arrival of a classroom visitor, doing their best to all look like model pupils.

“Hey guys, this is my friend Violet. Treat her like you would treat me, but better, you got that?” Dewey led Violet to his chair behind the desk, brushing it off before she sat down.

“Good afternoon, Miss Violet.” The replied in unison.

“Oh god, thank you, but no need for all the formality. I’m just here to drop off lunch,” Violet shook her head, her garnet colored hair swinging in its ponytail. “Really, I don’t want to interrupt a lesson.”

Dewey leaned over the desk, waving his hand at the class dismissively, “Don’t mind them. I can’t believe you brought me lunch; and it’s not even in a takeout box.”

“Mr. Schneebly; according to the Horace Green Rulebook, you’re not supposed to have visitors during school hours unless they are a direct family member or visiting teacher.” One of the students interrupted.

Slowly, Dewey turned to face the classroom as though he were the slasher in a horror film, “Thank you for reminding about rules I could care less about Summer, but it just so happens that Vivi is a professor. Therefore, a visiting teacher.”

“But… she’s not teaching us anything!” Summer insisted.

He looked about ready to leap over and strangle the poor girl, but stopped suddenly and pointed to the blackboard, “It just so happens that she’s going to help tell the story of Rockulus the Mighty. The greatest hero rock’n’roll has ever known.”

Violet nearly choked on her own spit, her face turning a deep shade of fresh tomato. Rockulus was a character Dewey had made up for more… playful intimate times when she would stay over for the night. The fact that he just spoke the name so causally in front of his students made her want to sink into the floor in embarrassment. She knew he would never go into vivid detail about what really happened during the hero’s adventures, but it was still a shock to hear.

“Rockulus is made up,” A student called out from the back of the room.

“He’s not made up, ask the professor.” Dewey hopped off the desk, entering the center of the desk circle; a ringmaster of the circus. “She knows all about myths and legends, don’t you Vivi?”

Clutching the edge of the desk with a white knuckle grip, Violet nodded slowly, “Of course I do. He isn’t as well known as some of the other heroes of the modern age, but he has left quite an impression on those who follow his stories.”

Confused, the students collectively decided that maybe Mr. Schneebly wasn’t pulling a lesson out of his ass like usual. If a college professor agreed with him, maybe this rock hero was something worth hearing about.

“When Rockulus was born, all the monsters in the land descended onto his village, for his coming was foretold in the great Prophecy. He would rise to be a mighty hero, bringing music to the people of the land, fighting for freedom and justice.” Dewey started to act out his fantasies, occasionally slamming his hands down on a desk for emphasis. “One night, he set off on his own to find a way to bring sweet, sweet rock to the masses.”

He glanced at Violet, who was thoroughly enraptured with his tale. She had such a look of pure enjoyment on her face, it caused him to lose his train of thought, and he stuttered as he fumbled for the next line.

“I believe that was when he had a vision in the wilderness of The Man.” Violet gently encouraged him, “His sworn enemy.”

“That’s right!” Dewey raced to the blackboard, sketching a stick-figure with a suit and tie. “The Man is the enemy of all freedom. He feeds off the hopes and dreams of all the people he controls, using their life force to grow more powerful.”

After a beat, he drew a stick figure with a suspiciously familiar hairstyle, exaggerated chest, and skimpy bikini next to the picture of Rockulus. Violet rolled her eyes, but let him continue unimpeded.

“The Man had kidnapped the beautiful goddess Ambrosia~” He began.

“Isn’t ambrosia something they serve at picnics?” Summer made a face, clearly unimpressed at her teacher’s lack of forethought.

“Shut up.” Dewey snapped, “Anyway-”

“It totally is.” Violet interrupted this time, addressing Summer directly. “It’s not great either. Sticky.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with her,” Dewey gave an exaggerated pout.

Violet stood up, walking over and attempting to straighten his tie, “I can when she’s right. Keep going, Mr. Schneebly.”

Distracted, Dewey forgot he was in the middle of his classroom, leaning forward to try and plant a kiss on Violet’s cheek. Dodging his efforts, she went over to sit on his desk, sticking her tongue out at him when her face was out of view of the student body.

“Rockulus set out on a quest to free the foxy goddess from the clutches of The Man, but his powers proved unable to defeat such an enemy.” He continued, “But that is a tale for another time…”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

[nomorelonelydays]

kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1 | Part 2

 -

Two days after the Instagram account opens, Sidney unofficially gets put on naming duty.

 The strawberry shortcake biscuit is named The Taylor.

 The cream cheese-stuffed banana muffins, crusted with dark chocolate ganache, is The Fleury.

 The slice of warm spiced peach cobbler (available for just two weeks), topped with a generous portion of thick, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, is The Deidre.

 He shares the account password with her, but she seems more interested in digging up her mom’s old recipes from an ancient box filled with yellowed index cards than photographing.

 “I’ll leave that up to you,” she says, then passes him a card titled, ‘Cherry Layer Chocolate Cake.’ “I think I’ll make this for the holidays. What do you think?”

 Deidre makes just one and a half cakes for a trial run (the other half, which had come out lopsided, is sitting in the back of Sidney’s fridge). It’s another instant hit.

 Sidney watches a couple, two teenagers who are making it pretty painfully obvious that they’re on their first date, split a slice in a corner seat. She’s chasing the cherry around the plate with her fork, and he watching her like she hung the literal moon. He laughs a little too hard at her jokes, his eyes crinkling like Geno’s when he’s chirping Sidney. But with the way she’s beaming, it’s clear that she doesn’t mind at all.

 He’s not jealous—or, at least, he doesn’t think he’s jealous. Having hockey and having a boyfriend have always been mutually exclusive. But now, with no obligations to the NHL, he’s supposedly free to do everything that he’s wanted to. He doesn’t dwell too long on it though, because the last thing he needs is to have an existential spiral in Deidre’s store over whether or not he’s missed his his golden hour to be happy the exact minute the Penguins drafted him all those years ago.

 He finishes lettering the card for the cherry chocolate cake and slides ‘The Jack’ neatly into its proper holder.

-

Geno calls him on Thursday nights now, like clockwork. He’s grateful for the routineness of it, especially when he knows how much Geno lives on spontaneity. It’s always the same—updates on how the team is doing (good, the weather over in Pittsburgh (not so good), another dumb prank the rookies are trying to pull (hilarious, but slightly unoriginal with the shaving cream), even though it’ll never be as good as the ones Flower used to plan.

 “How are you?” Geno asks one night, while Sidney is puttering around the kitchen to figure out what he wants to make for dinner. “Your tomatoes grow?”

 “I think those are a goner,” Sidney grimaces. The entire plant had shriveled up weeks ago, despite Sidney faithfully watering them. “Guess I’ll just have to stick with the storebought ones.”

 Geno is silent for a bit. Then, “Is quiet in locker room without you.”

 Sidney pauses. “I doubt that’s true.” There’s plenty of rookies every year, eager to prove themselves on the ice and to establish themselves as a personality on the team. Besides, Sidney has never been the life of the party—that’s always been Geno himself.

 “No, is quieter.” Geno sounds like he’s swallowing a yawn. “Different without you.”

 Sidney’s heart flounders, and he has to blink a couple of times before his throat unclogs. “Maybe you should get to sleep. It’s pretty late over there.”

 “No, I’m not tired,” Geno mumbles, sounding very drowsy. Sidney can almost picture Geno, hair-mussed and sleepy eyes about to close as he curls up on his mattress. “Want to keep talking.”

 “I know you have practice tomorrow, G,” Sidney says. “You have the C now, you can’t get there two hours late anymore.”

 “I’m never late,” Geno huffs. “You too early.”

 “Get some rest,” Sidney says gently. “I’ll still be here next week, same as usual.”

 “Maybe I call tomorrow.’

 “I won’t go anywhere.”

 “Wish you still here, Sid,” he murmurs. “Miss you so bad, some days.”

 Sidney doesn’t miss a beat. “I miss you, too,” he whispers, because any louder and he knows his voice will crack. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after, if you still want to call.”

 “Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”

 -

 Sidney’s restocking the brioche rolls when Deidre’s voice casually pipes up from the coffee machine, “You have a secret admirer, you know.”

 “I know. It’s Samantha. PTA President,” Sidney says, trying to not sound exasperated. He only knows her name and title because she must’ve giggled it at him as a greeting every single time she’s marched in. “She asked me what the main ingredient was in the banana muffins and I told her banana like, three times.”

 “She just likes to hear you say banana. And no, it’s not Sam.” Deidre makes a come hither motion with her hands and slides a napkin towards Sidney. “Yesterday afternoon, there was a young man, maybe around his 30s, who stopped by for a latte and he asked where you were.”

 “Oh.” There’s something he can’t name fluttering in his stomach. The words on the napkin scrawled out, Jeremy, and a string of numbers. “What did you say?”

 “I told him, ‘He’s a cute one, isn’t he? He’s the store eye candy, bringing in all the sales.’”

 “Dee, you didn’t.”

 “I did, and he went full red. It was adorable. And I told him that you pop in in the mornings and in the afternoon to help with opening and closing.” She leans forward, grinning. “I’m just saying, think about it.”

 He thinks about it.

 At night, he tells Geno, “I think I have a secret admirer. Or a stalker.”

 Geno’s voice suddenly becomes infinitely more awake. “Have what? Someone stand outside your house? I read about this before, you need call police.”

 “No, it was at the bakery. I got his number on a napkin. Well, the owner gave me his name on a napkin, so I don’t really know what he looks like. He could be 100. People in this town are usually…around that age range.”

 Geno still sounds perplexed. “So say no.”

 “What?”

 “Say sorry, only go on dates with girls. But thank you.”

 Sidney’s brain feels like it’s stuttering to a pause. “Geno, what the fuck?”

 “What?”

 “I don’t ‘only go on dates with girls.’ I—” Well, to be quite fair, he hasn’t gone on any dates at all. “You know this.”

 It takes a full ten seconds for Geno to crackled back to life on the line again. His voice is hesitant. “You only bring girls to events. Like Halloween, or—”

 “They’re my friends, I’ve told you. I’m not going to bring a guy in front of you guys,” he exclaims, then reigns in his voice. His heart is beating like a jackhammer boring straight through. “Hey, listen, I have a pretty early day tomorrow, I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”

 “Sid, wait—”

 He hangs up and puts his phone face down on the nightstand. It’s not his proudest moment.

 -

 I’m sorry(((, the text reads. The timestamp indicates that the message had been sent at 2 AM. You should go on a date with secret guy. Maybe he’s secret Ryan Reynolds.

 Geno’s texts are never longer than five words, usually cryptic versions of a yes or no, accompanied by eyeless smilies. Sidney wonders if he’d been painstakingly worrying over each word since Sidney hastily ended the conversation.

 I don’t think he’s Ryan Reynolds, Sidney sends back. Besides, no one in this town knows hockey. That’s gonna be a problem.

 Geno’s reply is instantaneous, as if he’d been waiting.

 Picky)))))

More messages follow in quick succession, before Sidney can even start typing. 

But always best for u. Deserve the best only.

 He laces up his shoes and heads to Dee’s.

 -

 It snows a little mid-December.

 He helps Deidre with the decorations, hanging up tinsel and little snowflake cutouts on the window. She has a box of Christmas lights stored away in a dusty box from the attic, which definitely looks like they haven’t been disturbed since the 80s, but the one of the bulbs dies with a sad fizz the moment Sidney plugs it in. So they have to make do with the other nonflammable options.

 The store looks nice. ‘Well-loved’ is a better word for it, with its mismatched decorations and ancient garlands. He snaps a photo of the mini tree on the counter for Instagram before he goes to help Deidre frost the rest of the ornament-shaped sugar cookies.

 There’s commotion on the streets from all the tourists and families coming back for the holidays. He thinks about flying to Nova Scotia for the holidays, but then he realizes that none of Deidre’s children will be coming to Cardwell Point.

 “They’re busy,” she shrugs indifferently, but she turns her back to Sidney as she busies herself with rearranging the shelfs. “It’s alright. That’s what Skype is for, right? Besides, I have to watch the store.”

 He thinks about Geno, who’s probably headed to Florida soon to escape the onslaught of winter chill that he absolutely abhors, no matter how much he loves the city. He could Skype Geno, or Facetime him. Except Geno would always have the angle wrong, and Sidney’s sure he’d just get an on-brand mugshot of Geno’s nostril from the bottom up for the whole conversation. 

He did ask Sidney if he wanted to go to Florida, except the way he had asked had felt like a given tagged with a question mark at the end (Florida w me this year?). Nonetheless, Sidney had been tempted.

 But he also wonders if he’d feel even more homesick when Geno is physically standing in front of him again, all tall and loud and too big, too much, too many years of his unrequited love staring at him and making Sidney think that he has a chance. He doesn’t want to go to Florida to watch Geno pick up strangers at a club.

 “I’m not going anywhere, either,” he tells her.

 She looks over, finally, pursing her lips like she’s trying to hold back her smile.

 @DeesBakeryandCafe

Season’s greetings and a happy New Year to our wonderful customers and families here in Cardwell Point. Hope everyone is spending time with their loved ones this holiday season.

-

 Winter refuses to go. The clouds hang over the streets stubbornly, and each days trudges on like it’s dragging its feet.

 He misses skating.

 He misses Geno. Especially as it gets closer to February and teenagers and adults alike start coming to the shop in twos, their gloved hands clasped together as they squeeze through Dee’s tiny corridor when it’s really much easier to be in a single-file line.

 He’s not jealous. He is not.

 But he is lonely. And really fucking cold.

 He serves up at least thirty slices of The Jack, which is apparently the most popular item these days thanks to Instagram. Deidre switches up the decoration, so the cherry-glazed design in the middle forms a big, gaudy heart. The Internet completely eats up. Sidney doesn’t understand it.

 “It’s like a Titanic reference, right?” a customer asks, as he picks up the cake for his wife. “Like, an ‘I’ll never let you go,’ kind of thing. Jack and Rose?”

 “Sure,” Sidney says. It’s really for his first childhood crush, but he can work with the Titanic.

 The moment Deidre fills her last custom order of The Jack (and there had been plenty of those, for anniversaries to birthdays to just becauses), she tells Sidney that she’s figured out how to make her mother’s cheesecake.

 “Finally worked out how to stop the goddamn filling from clotting,” she says, cutting him a slice. The cake has a brownie bottom, and the inside is perfectly creamy and smooth and dotted with dark chocolate chips. “What do you think?”

 “I’m biased,” Sidney says, trying to not scarf down the whole thing like an animal. “I love cheesecakes. This one is my favorite so far.”

 “Good,” she tells him. “You can name this one, then.”

 His fork stops mid-air. “Weren’t you going to call it ‘The Lily’?”

 She pats his arm affectionately, not unlike the day she did when Sidney told her why he ended up at Cardwell Point. “I figured she wouldn’t mind. This can be our second February special. God, I’m sick of The Jack.”

 The next week, Sidney carefully slides The Geno in its display cabinet.

 (Deidre doesn’t ask about the peculiar name. She never does, and Sidney is grateful.)

 After over a decade in the NHL, he’s well aware of what he can and can’t have. But lately he’s been feeling selfish. He snaps a photo of the cheesecake and sends it to Deidre.

It’s a good photo.

-

 “I got invited to a neighborhood potluck yesterday,” Sidney mumbles into the receiver, when Flower asks him how retirement is treating him. “I don’t know what to bring. Maybe I’ll bring something from the bakery.”

 “Do you officially work at the bakery or are you just there because the owner is blackmailing you? Does she know who you are?”

 “I just help out when I can. And no, I told you, it’s not a hockey town. They do have competitive knitting here. It’s a thing.” Sidney doesn’t have much to do these days, aside from working out and catching up on reading, which means that he does end up doing most of the latter in the café. Maybe he should take up competitive knitting. “I started an Instagram for her shop. We just hit 200 followers.”

 “You know how to do that?” Flower asks, because he’s a little shit. “I’m kidding, I know you’re not actually a senior citizen.”

 Sidney rolls his eyes. “I haven’t checked it in a while though. I let Deidre handle the posting now. It’s her shop, anyways.”

 “What’s the handle?”

 He tells him. Flower is quiet for a bit as he searches through the page. “Pretty cool, eh?”

 “Yeah,” Flower says, his voice slightly off. “Yeah, it’s—it’s good. Looks like the real deal.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s the real deal.”

 Flower makes a noncommittal noise. “Nothing. Cheesecake looks good. Does Geno know?”

 “No,” Sidney says. “I mentioned the bakery once or twice. He didn’t ask. Not, uh—not after I told him about Jeremy.”

 “Secret napkin man?” Flower remembers. “You didn’t go on that date?”

 “No, I didn’t go on a date with ‘secret napkin man,’” he mimics. “I don’t think he’d care.”

 “I think he’d care.” Flower always sounds so sure when he wants to be serious, and it’s one of the things Sidney missed most when he left for Vegas—there’d been a metaphorical hollow within the team for a good few months following his departure, and that void never quite got replaced no matter what.  

 “Maybe.”

 Sidney can only hope. But he’s a little too old for hoping these days.

 -

 Foot traffic is slower when they hit March, but Deidre promises that it’ll pick up when Cardwell Point’s 11th Annual Theater Festival starts in the middle of the month, because that’s apparently the other big thing aside from the 4th of July Carnival Bash. Sidney has just packed up another dozen of red velvet cupcakes for Samantha the PTA Queen when the front bell jingles.

 “Hello? I’m look for—”

 Sidney heart leaps to his throat.

 “Sid,” Geno says softly. He looks like the wind knocked him in (it probably had), mismatched Frakenshirts and all. “Hi, Sid.”

 Samantha may as well not have even walked into the store at all.

 “How are—“ He must be imagining things. But Geno takes another step, until he’s right in front of the counter and Sidney can reach out and touch just how real he is. He hasn’t changed much--still the same eyes, the same nose and lips, and maybe his hair is a bit thinner but he still makes Sidney’s chest feel too small and too big all at once. “Where did you—how are you here?”

 “Fly,” Geno says sheepishly. “Wanted to see you.”

 “What about—”

 “No games until Friday.” He’s staring at Sidney like he’s looking his fill and he can’t get enough. “I—I see your post, and I just—buy ticket.”

 “What post?”

 Geno pulls out his phone and flips through it until he lands at a familiar Instagram account. He passes it over to Sidney, his hands warm as it brushes against Sidney’s fingers.

 @DeesBakeryCafe

‘I love you’ tastes a lot like our chocolate chip cheesecake, The Geno.

 “Oh,” Sidney breathes. “Oh.”

[neon-sparrows]

Prompt: A post - series, not - dead Jay Merrick accidentally stumbles over something new for his obsessive brain to obsess over that WON'T ruin his life. Too little, too late, maybe, and he sure isn't setting down the camera anytime soon, but eh. ( "Gee, Jay! How come your mom lets you have TWO intense, life-consuming interests? " )

i had to think on what kind of stuff jay would like to focus on and settled on something that i guess might be a little stupid but when the operator infection is still making it impossible for you to live a normal life i guess you just gotta find ways to settlegod i love jay merricksend me your requests! | my ko-fi

There's a little patio on the outside of his apartment. Jay chose it for that exact reason: it is very open, very minimal in regards to how many corners and doorways there are, and there's a tiny patio attached to the sliding glass doors in the living room. It's enough sunlight for his purposes without completely destroying any shot he wants to get, and he prefers it that way.

When he wakes up in the morning, every morning, he's settled into this routine; his alarm goes off. He wakes up, grounds himself in the moment and moves tenderly, because some days the wound in his stomach still hurts, and checks his phone. It's mostly to turn off the alarm, but it's also to text Tim and ask him when he'll be home that evening, because Tim is gone for work most of the time by then-- he doesn't get a reply right away, but it's a clockwork routine, and Jay likes his routines.

He gets up and showers. He makes himself breakfast and takes the medicine. And then he fills up his watering can, picks a tape out of the stack of empty ones in his room, and goes to the patio.

It's covered in plants. It had started out with just one flowerpot, but it's grown into a garden in the tiny space. The flowers still take up most of it, but he's managed to get a tomato plant going, too; he's as diligent as he can be about the right amount of water and sunlight and trying to keep the bugs and birds away.

He'll set the watering can down by the door when it's finished, and then stand up to check the camera.

It was mostly on a whim that he placed it there. He doesn't record himself as much as he used to because it proved overall to be more trouble than it was worth, and Tim always seemed uncomfortable about being on camera-- but he did have a lot of cameras, and had to find some kind of use for them. So he dedicated them to his plants. One of his sturdiest cameras is set up on a tripod in the corner, at an angle in the cramped space that will have as many of them as possible.

His goal is somewhat singular. He wants to watch his plants grow. Take the (probably a little over full) tape out of the camera that he put there the other day, replace it with the new one, label the old one with a date and put it in his pocket. It serves two purposes: he knows the time and place he was at on that day, he knows what day it is, and he gets to watch his plants grow.

The tape settles into his pocket well by his phone and Jay sits down in the center of the patio, cross-legged, and closes his eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. His doctor showed him how, Tim helped him understand it better. It's a process. He has to remind himself that this whole thing is a process and he'll feel better eventually. The plants seem to fare better when recorded than he does.

He's planning to make a video someday. Multiple, if he gets his way. He wants to cut together a timelapse of his plants, from the time he and Tim planted them together to the time the flowers bloom and hopefully the tomato plant bears fruit. He doesn't plan to post it. He wants it for himself. A selfish, personal project.

His phone chirps in his pocket. Tim texting him back for the time he'll be home from work, like clockwork.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Someday they'll find a bigger house, probably. He's hoping. He likes his little patio garden, because when he's sat in the center of it like this, he's surrounded by sunlight and greenery. He feels warm and comfortable and safe. He'd like a bigger garden more than he wants a bigger house, something he can practically bury himself in should the mood strike. He wants to grow vegetables. He dreams sometimes about a proper vegetable garden, tomatoes joined with peppers and zucchini and cucumbers, maybe watermelon if he could really figure it out and they had the space-- these dreams are punctuated with dread regardless, but he's learned to ignore it. He wants a garden of flowers because he thinks he'd like to learn how to put a bouquet together someday. It seems interesting. It seems worth doing.

He feels cold in the sunlight still, but he's ignoring it well enough. Breathe in,  breathe out. Be calm. Jay tilts his head back and keeps his eyes closed, feels the sunlight on his cheeks. He keeps meaning to buy some books. Books on gardening and plants as a whole. Internet research was fun and all, but he likes the idea of sitting out here among the greenery or in his idealized flower garden and reading about what surrounded him and feeling good about it, instead of-- instead of--

His phone chirps again. He doesn't take it out of his pocket yet because he knows it's only Tim, or Jessica, checking in with him. And he's okay with that, but also knows that they know sometimes he just wants to know he's alone.

He rubs his thumb into his bare ankle and focuses in on the sunlight again. He's looking forward to seeing the flowers bloom on the tapes. He hasn't looked yet at the labeled stack tucked into the drawer in his desk, because he's not ready yet. Jay figures that's okay. He assumes he's alright to take his time. He has no intention of rushing it, anyway.

Plants need time to grow.

Jay inhales deeply, and sighs through his nose as his head tips forward.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E1; Chapter One, The Vanishing of Will Byers - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Gender Neutral!Reader Series

𝘖𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

𝐔.𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘

The night is quiet, as it always has been in this small corner of Indiana, and yet this night is unlike any other. The halls were especially bare, occupied only by the melody of the generator humming as it struggled to pump light throughout the twisted maze of halls. That was, until...

BAM

The steel door rips open, colliding fast and hard with the walls with a fantastic thud. Swallowing all remaining silence along with it, was the cry of alarms that flood the hallway as he runs for his life. The man finds himself at the elevator, furiously slamming his hand against the elevator button hoping just maybe it might make the elevator come faster. As he does so, the man continues to look over his shoulder in a panic.

He knows its after him.

BOOM

He knows its close.

The man is thrilled to hear the soft ding of the elevator signaling its arrival. Before the doors are even opened all the way the man quickly ducks through and proceeds to frantically hit the UP button inside the elevator.

The doors begin to close.

For a second he believes he just might make it. But that doesn't completely cast away the fear as he can't seem to take his eyes off of the eerie hallway, expecting its arrival. The man attempts to calm his breathing. His hopes of escaping are growing stronger as things quiet down.

That's when he hears it.

That... Thing.

It takes every remaining ounce of courage for the man to slowly look up, but on some level, he already knows he is done for.

A low growl is heard above him followed by an unusual yet terrifying squeak.

The man's screams were cut off with the shut of the doors as he is yanked up towards the ceiling of the elevator. The man is no more.

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It's quiet. The faint sound of sprinklers outside can be heard as we wait for Mike to continue. We are all on the edge of our seats. It's already hard enough they still can't find proper seating for me since I officially joined the party, so, for now, I'm wedged between my best friend Will and my brother Dustin.

"Something is coming. Something hungry for blood," Mike says, his voice barely above a whisper. "A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness."

Subconsciously we all slowly lean in waiting for whatever happens next.

"It is almost here."

"What is it?" Will asks suddenly, no longer capable of containing his curiosity.

This time it's Dustin who cuts in, "What if it's the Demogorgon?"

I take a deep breath in suspense. Out of the corner of my eye, Will practically throws himself back in his seat.

"Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon." Dustin rambles on.

Lucas speaks up, "It's not the Demogorgon." He sounds very sure of himself which gives me more confidence.

We all jump a little in our seats when Mike slams one of the game pieces down in front of us suddenly as he shouts "An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!"

I sigh in great relief as Lucas gives a very smug and quite frankly, sassy look to Dustin as he props his elbow on the back of his chair which earns a soft chuckle from me.

"Troglodytes?" Dustin asks in disbelief.

"Told ya," I roll my eyes at Lucas despite the smile that grows on my face.

Everyone shares a good laugh, all of us relieved when my eyes meet Will's and we share a smile and a shake of the head as if silently saying 'I can't believe we were so worried for nothing'.

Simultaneously all of our smiles melt away when Mike starts looking around as he says, "Wait a minute. Did you hear that?"

"That...That sound," he says softly.

"Boom... Boom," his voice is getting slightly louder with each 'boom'. We all stare at Mike expectantly, hanging on to his every word.

"BOOM!" Mike is shouting at this point as he slams his hands against the wooden surface making the table as well as all of us jump.

I always get too into these games, I realize. My heart is racing as adrenaline courses through my veins. I look over and it seems when I jumped I grabbed on to the nearest thing next to me which happened to be Will's arm. Sheepishly, I retract my hand and look back at Mike in anticipation.

"That didn't come from the troglodytes. No, that... That came from something else." Mike continues.

We all look around at each other as we wait for Mike.

In an instant, Mike slams down the next figure on the board and exclaims, "The Demogorgon!"

'Yep. We're screwed.'

The silence is replaced with all of our defeated groans. Dustin sighs and says, "We're in deep shit."

Mike suddenly says, "Will, your action!"

"I don't know!" Will sounded desperate.

We're all on edge, but the boys are completely panicking.

"Fireball him!" Lucas shouts.

"I'd have to roll a 13 or higher!"

"Too risky." Dustin cuts in. "Cast a protection spell!"

Lucas turns to Will and says "Don't be a pussy," I roll my eyes. "Fireball him!"

At this point, Lucas and Dustin are just yelling at each other.

"Cast protection."

Our attention is quickly brought back to Mike when he shouts, "The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you."

"BOOM!"

"FIREBALL HIM!"

"Another stomp. BOOM."

"Cast. Protection."

"He roars in anger!"

At this point, everyone is yelling over one another; it's utter chaos, and finally I snap.

"Oh, come on, I'M tired of your silly human bickering, just let the boy roll!" It's hard to be heard over all the yelling but, by some miracle,, they manage to hear me and it's quiet for a split second as Will gets a chance to speak.

"And, FIREBALL!" He throws the dice on the table out of excitement and they go flying onto the floor.

"Oh shit!"

We all jump to our feet, scrambling to find the dice in anticipation.

"Where'd it go?" Lucas asks. "Where is it?"

Will almost sounded defensive, "I don't know!"

"Is it a 13?"

"How are we supposed to know if we haven't found the dice yet, Dustin?" I retort.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Dustin chants as he paces back and forth. I roll my eyes as I continue to search on my hands and knees.

"Mike," It was Mrs. Wheeler.

"Mom we're in the middle of a campaign!" Mike exclaims.

"You mean the end? Fifteen after."

Mike sighs, exasperated and runs up the stairs.

I hear Lucas accuse Will. "Oh, my God! Freaking Idiot!"

"Lucas," I ease. "come on, it's not his fault. We were all caught up in the game. Let's just focus on- OH! Found 'em!"

I jump to my feet, pointing down at the D-20 for my friends to see and not wanting to tamper with the roll. The boys come running over and practically trampled me in the process.

"Shit, it's a seven." We all groan in frustration, especially Will.

"Does a seven count?" Will asked hopefully.

"Did Mike see it?" Lucas counters.

"Well, no."

"Then it doesn't count."

I sigh, beginning to pack up my bags and tidy up my mess knowing it was time to leave. The others do the same.

"Why do we have to leave?" Will asks sadly as we head up the stairs. "It was just getting good,"

"I know," I swing my arm off his shoulder dramatically with a sigh as we head up the basement stairs and for the garage door. "I know. But hey, just think how awesome the next one will be, eh?" I tease trying to get my best friend to smile.

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Y/n has always been so good at cheering people up, I have no idea how they do it.

"Hey, guys. I'm sorry we had to end it so soon." Y/n and I turn around looking at Mike.

"No sweat, Mikey." Y/n shrugs, with a smile.

I love that smile. Suddenly their arm leaves my shoulder, and I frown a little.

I sigh inwardly, I've had such a bad crush on Y/n since Dustin and them moved here in the 4th grade. Y/n has no idea... I hope. I always admired them from afar, that is until they finally convinced Dustin to let them into the party. We were all glad to have them, Dustin can be a little overprotective is all. I'm not sure about Dustin, but as for Mike and Lucas, they know I like Y/n. Those guys can read me like a book, and once they caught on there was no convincing them otherwise.

"Hey, Mike? Where is Dustin?" Y/n asks.

That's a good point, I realize. He was right behind us but he hasn't come outside yet.

"I think he went upstairs to give the leftovers to Nancy."

"Oh, okay. I'll just wait here then. Uh oh, your plant is dying," Y/n said suddenly, kneeling down by the withering plant by the patio.

"Yeah, that's my mom's tomato plant. That thing is hopeless. She basically gave up on it."

"Well, I might be able to help," they said thoughtfully, beginning to scan the garage. "Where do you keep your gardening- Oh, never mind!"

Y/n quickly runs over to the shelves, retrieving some old packets and ran back over to the plant, kneeling beside it.

You can always tell when they are concentrating; they always do this cute thing where they furrows their brow and chew their lip. My stomach does a little flip when I realize I was staring again and I quickly refocus my attention on my vest zipper. I still manage to see Y/n fiddling with the the packet to get it open, finally sprinkling the contents into the dirt before mixing it in with their finger. All the while, they mutter words of encouragement towards it. I remember them telling me one day about a study conducted on plants and how it was proved that they respond well to positive feedback, and the memory makes me smile. They were so fascinated by it; it was hard not to be as excited about it as they were when they told us about it.

Y/n stands up, brushing themselves off and smiles at Mike and then me.

I kinda froze, not in panic but in awe. They just radiates warmth, and positivity effortlessly.

"What?" They chuckle, smiling at me.

I shake my head in embarrassment and look away, zipping up my vest and getting on my bike.

Lucas just rolls his eyes at my behavior. He's always telling me to just go for it but it's not that easy.

We all look to the door when we hear it slam. It's Dustin.

"There's something wrong with your sister." He grumbles.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's got a stick up her butt."

"Yeah," Lucas joins in. "It's because she's been dating that douche bag, Steve Harrington."

"Yeah, she's turning into a real jerk."

"She's always been a real jerk!" Mike interrupts.

"Nuh-uh. She used to be cool, like the time she dressed up as an elf for our elder tree campaign." With that, Dustin headed off on his bike, followed by Y/n but not before sending me a smile and thanking Mike.

"It was a seven," I tell him, thinking back on the campaign.

"Huh?"

"The roll, it was a seven. The Demogorgon, it got me."

Mike seems a bit shocked at my truthfulness, but ultimately shrugs it off, nodding. I nod back.

"See you later!" I say as I start peddling away.

I catch up just in time to see Lucas bid his goodbyes.

"Good night, ladies!" He chimes.

"Kiss your mom 'night for me," Dustin calls before looking over at me.

"Race you back to my place? Winner gets a comic?"

Before I can respond Y/n speaks up, "and am I included this time, like at all?"

"Course not," he says nonchalantly. I shake my head, feeling kinda bad for them, but I know it's just sibling banter.

"Well then," they scoff. "Don't be surprised if your bike tires mysteriously deflate one day, Dustin. There's all kinds of weirdos around here,"

I laugh, and Dustin just ignores them.

"Any comic?" I ask.

"Yeah!" As we are about to start we both look back when we hear Y/n frantically yelling, "Shit! DUSTIN HELP!"

I look back to see them winking at me with a smile on their face. Automatically realizing what they are up to, I booked it.

Fortunately for me, Dustin wasn't so quick. I could hear his frantic cries, suddenly struggling to keep his bike steady as he attempts to look back, "Jesus, Y/n what's wrong-? HEY, WHAT THE HELL?!"

There it is. Although, I was already far ahead.

"DAMMIT Y/N, IF I LOSE YOU OWE ME A COMIC BOOK!"

I can hear Y/n's laughter from here and it makes me smile. As the laughter grows more and more distant, I hear "GO WILL, GO!"

Somehow my smile gets bigger, and my legs go faster.

"Hey! Hey! Get back here! I'm gonna kill you! BOTH of you!"

"I'll take your X-Men 134!" I shout as I pass his house and take the shortcut to my own.

As I slow down my mind starts to wonder; It wanders to the campaign today. It wanders to how Y/n helped me win the race and my new comic book just moments ago. It wanders to Y/n grabbing my arm during the campaign and how I don't think I've ever blushed that hard… My mind wanders to Y/n.

Sometimes I really hate how much I like them. How I can't get them out of my head. They've always been such a good friend to me and I just don't get how someone can be so nice, and thoughtful and-

My thoughts are cut short when I notice my bike light flickering. I look down at it in confusion. Just then it comes back on. I look back at the road and I see a disturbingly tall, ominous figure staring me down. My heart practically stops in the figure's wake.

My body reacted before my mind could; I yanked my bike right and as I cruise down the ditch, my bike topples over and I'm sent to the muddy ground. It takes me a second to gather my senses as I warily pick myself up and try and get a glimpse of what I just saw. My heart starts racing faster as I hear an alarming and indistinct growling. I'm whimpering at this point but I don't care. I ditch my bike without a second thought and book it as fast as I can in the direction of my house.

I'm sniveling and panting as I make it through the fog that covers the road in front of my house. I make it on to the porch, throw open the door, and slam it shut just as fast. My fingers fumble to secure every single lock on the door and for the first time in my life I wonder why we don't have more. All the while, Chester is barking like crazy.

"Mom?" I'm running through the house looking in every room for any sign of my mom or Jonathan.

"Jonathan? Mom?"

'Crap they must be working. Crap! No No No!'

I run back into the living room and throw the blinds over my head, wincing as it hit the back of my head. But I waste no time in cupping my hands up against the glass to get a better look at the yard to see if I can spot the figure.

My stomach drops what feels like ten stories.

I can see it in the distance right between the sheets that were hung out to dry.

It's just standing there. Menacingly. (a/n: If you understood that reference, and actually thought it was funny let's be friends please 😂)

It starts stomping towards the house.

I gasp and start running for the phone.

I hastily pick the phone up from the mount and my fingers are shaking as I try and dial 911 as fast as possible.

I can hear it ringing. I can hear the click as if someone picked up. I waste no time, "Hello? HELLO?!"

All I can hear over the phone now is static, and then a disturbing, yet familiar screech-like growl. Chester's barking is getting louder and more frequent indicating that It's right outside. I slowly peer around the corner to look at the glass window on the door and I can barely make out the menacing shadowy figuring looming outside the door. I can hear it growling from outside.

Chester's barks quickly turn into whimpers as he backs away towards me.

Then the unthinkable happens.

The chain lock on the inside of the door starts unlocking itself.

'Shit!'

At this point, I realize I'm never going to be able to outrun it so I'm going to have to at least try to defend myself. I remember the gun we keep in the shed out back and make a run for it, not even bothering to hang up the phone. I nearly trip on my own feet as I run for the shed. I make it inside and slam the shed door behind me in the process. I quickly but carefully take the gun off the wall and set it on the shelf as I scramble for the ammo. My fingers are still trembling as I fumble to put the bullets in the magazine.

Once I finally get the magazine in, I pick up the gun and aim it at the shed door waiting. It seems as though I can't even keep the gun steady since my entire body is completely tremoring, even my unsteady breaths.

It has to be close by now.

As if on cue I hear the deep growling that I've already heard twice tonight and for a couple of moments I think it's outside. But then I realize why it sounds so close.

It's in the shed with me.

It's behind me.

The fear is nearing paralyzing, but I still manage to command my body to turn around to get a look at this relentless monster. When I see it I just stand there in utter disbelief, the gun slowly and subconsciously lowering to my side in shock. I'm completely frozen in place as I stare at the beast in front of me. The hanging light bulb above me glows intensively brighter with every passing second. The last thing I see before I'm cloaked in pure white light and an unbearable chill is the monster's long arm reaching out for me.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[this-lioness]

Weekend Review

Long, boring and mundane, as usual, but I find it relaxing.

The last two grocery orders for my Mom were only about 1/3 to 1/2 full, and I knew that wasn’t going to hold her very long.  Food is readily available in the stores, it’s just that the stores are no longer doing substitutions for out-of-stock items, so if there are six versions of a given item available online you have to hope that the one you pick is one they have in stock, otherwise you’re not getting anything at all.  Your only choice is to keep ordering and ordering and ordering or physically go into the store.  Ugh.

There’s a Grocery Outlet up the street from us, and we decided Friday afternoon would probably be less crowded than a Saturday morning, and took our chances going out.  We wore masks and gloves, to be safe, and I left most everything home -- purse, glasses, phone.  I didn’t want to have to decontaminate more than I absolutely had to.

It went pretty smoothly, all things considered.  We have a full decontamination area in the pantry now: drop cloth on the floor, rolling rack with a bleach-water solution, washable wipes, clean grocery bags and gloves.  So we bring everything in through the back gate, I spray everything down with bleach (or SimpleGreen, if we’re worried about bleach getting on it) in the pantry, let it sit, then Marc wipes it dry and transfers it either to our own cabinets or into clean bags for my Mom.  Produce gets transferred directly to the sink where it’s washed with warm, soapy water and then dried.

Is it enough?  I don’t know.  It’s certainly a whole process, which makes me feel like we’re doing some amount of good, but I suppose you can’t really know for sure right now.

Saturday morning we had our breakfast biscuit sandwiches and coffee, then packed up (what we thought was) all my Mom’s groceries and drove them over.  En route she texted me to ask for Splenda (*sigh*) and a flashlight, because Jim uses a flashlight to navigate to the bathroom at night.  By then it was too late, but it turns out we’d forgotten all her frozen items anyway, so I told her I’d bring it the next day.

Dropped everything off with her and then went to Lowes to pick up garden soil and some drainage rock.  It was still cold and cloudy out, but warm enough that we got a good hour or so of work done in the back yard -- mostly cleaning up the winter muck.

A few months ago we bought a stack of old icing buckets from a baker ($1 each!) and Marc drilled holes in the bottom and layered them with rock and soil.  He also dug up one of the original three blackberry beds which we decided to retire.  I’d planned to just toss the canes, but they were already greening up so nicely that he took the chance they could be salvaged and transferred them to three new planters.  To my surprise they don’t seem shocked at all, so we may be able to keep them going in a better location!

Marc is debating what to do with the retired bed, but we’ll probably use it to dry firewood or store things off-season.

I went over the blackberry bushes and cut off all the old winter growth and one or two dead canes.  They’re greening up beautifully, and one of them has thrown FIVE NEW CANES, two of which have sprouted in the little gap between beds.  Complete assholes.  I rocked off the gap so it is now unofficially our new third berry bed, and gave it a stern talking-to about behaving itself from now on.  I swear to God those canes grew more since just yesterday.

The raspberries are greening up, but not so vigorously.  I need the time to get them back in order, frankly -- we have to completely redo the training wire.  There’s fucking thistle everywhere, I want to scream.  The harder you try to get rid of the stuff the more aggressively it spreads.

Blueberries are greening up as well.  I acidified the soil as best I could, but we’re giving them just this year to prove themselves.  If they can’t grow berries I can’t spare the garden space, and frankly it’s just too much work trying to acidify their beds.  The blackberries and raspberries would literally kill their mother to take over that space, and I’d love to try some gooseberries or something else new and different.

I pulled last year’s baby maples from their winter bed and gave them a once-over.  They’ve got tiny little buds on them, it looks like they all made it -- a good five or six at least!  I’ve got them in the sun now, anyway, to see if we can coax them fully back to life.

After choring I cleaned litter boxes, showered, then came downstairs and completely tore the pantry apart -- mud room, cabinet pantry, and the two sides of the kitchen island where we normally keep canned goods.

We normally keep a very well-stocked pantry, but I wanted a better idea of everything we had, and it was starting to get cluttered in a way that made it hard to get everything.  I spent a good few hours -- and Marc even got into it, and was a huge help -- taking everything out, combining items, moving some bulk goods to air-tight containers, and then sorting it all back new spots.

I had a bunch on hand that was more than we needed, and offered to bring it to my Mom with her frozen stuff.  In exchange she offered us some polenta and a few frozen items that neither she nor Jim would eat.  Good trade.

I’ve run past Marc the idea of organizing his tool chest as well, which is currently a six-foot-tall column of absolute madness that I have to avert my eyes from, but it seems like that’s going to wait until tomorrow.  Ah well.

Had tacos, watched Onward (I wasn’t expecting much but I actually really liked it), played some Animal Crossing and went to bed.  Good day.

This morning Marc made chocolate chip waffles and then we popped back out again.  The plan was just to drop the groceries off at my Mom’s, but we managed to get a few other things done: brought over the old tiered planter so she can use it for herbs and annuals, and set up the frame for a raised garden bed so she can grow some veggies (with my help, no doubt).  Later this week I’ll go over and lay down some weed blocker for her and fill it with soil.  I’ve got more than enough broccoli sprouts to spare and I’m sure the same will be true with the peppers, so she’ll have that if nothing else.

Afterwards we hit Lowes again, picking up a few more bags of top soil, bird seed, and more buckets.

Today was absolutely beautiful, cloudy on-and-off but warm and good for gardening.  We did a bang up job!

Marc gathered all the old wood paneling and other crap that’s been accumulating and got it into one spot so we can call a haul-away company.  He also cleaned up most of the leaf litter from around the yard and helped me organize the little collapsible greenhouse we got for free late last year.  It’s really handy, we’re already talking about replacing it with something more permanent.

I planted some of the broccoli sprouts and put them out in the sun.  Here’s hoping!  The three onion bulbs I planted a few weeks ago were sprouting up green so I got those into a planter and plugged most of the rest of the bulbs into biodegradable containers to see if we can get them growing as well.  Onions seem complicated, but I’ll do my best.

I’ve been saving every kind of little container I could get my hands on, these past weeks, and I filled them all up with soil and got some eggplant seeds going as well.  The bell peppers are just now starting to sprout, they need a bit longer, but I think they’ll get there.  Also planted some pinto beans and cat grass.  I’ve still got some baby spinach and pumpkins to get going, but I’m holding onto those for just now.

We sorted the “guest” patio chairs off into the side yard, as we don’t really anticipate having anyone over this summer.  We can always break them out again if we need to, it’s easy enough, but right now I’ve got almost every single sunny spot dedicated to something we can grow and eat.

We’ll have tomatoes at some point, too, but I’d prefer to buy them as seedlings.  I’m already unsure just how well the current round of babies is going to do.  I’m so worried about that broccoli, but I guess at some point you have to just let it do its thing and hope for the best.

I hope everything comes up.  I’ve read everything I can, but sometimes it all gets confused and muddled, so at some point I just sort of have to... hope.  Supposedly last year’s corn should return, but man... I don’t know.  We’ll keep an eye on it.  If it hasn’t come up by the time seedlings start appearing in the store we’ll just pull them up and replant.  That was a wonderful exercise last year.

We also put out more clover seed in the front (last year’s clover is BOOMING), and spread some wildflower seeds around as well.  Marc filled up the bird feeders, hosed off the patio and set up the chairs.  We’re going to buy a better pressure washer than the old electric one we have from the old house, both for our use and so my parents don’t have to keep hiring someone to clean their siding.  That will make a big difference.

It’s amazing what a difference an afternoon of work made in the back yard -- it looks and feels so much better.  Afterwards we got showered up and changed, and then a little bit ago I made some veggie fried brown rice with steamed veggie dumplings.  A little later on I’m going to make us some sakura lattes and maybe something light to snack on for dessert.

And how are you?

[multiplefandomfics]

Grimes sisters chapter 14

sorry you haven’t heard from us in a while but gues what? I’m back so here you go. i promise that I’m almost done with our Grimes sisters fan fiction. so to show my good will you’re gonna get a few chapters tonight. have fun reading and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Pairings: Shane x Fabienne; Daryl x Alex

Warnings: drama, walkers, blood, near death experience, angst

Words: 2128

Rick POV

A few weeks had passed. Well a little over two months to be exact. On a tour a few weeks ago Daryl and I have found some pigs and chicken that were miraculously still unharmed so we took them with us and Carl and I built a shack for them to live in. That way we had eggs and could occasionally butcher one or two of them.

My sisters and Carol had been taking care of the plants and we could already harvest cucumbers, beans, tomatoes and potatoes.

I was more than happy that we had managed to build a good and steady life together. Nothing too out of the ordinary had happened the only thing that could have become a problem were the always enlarging herds that threaten to overrun the fence. Wooden stems had already been planted against it from the inside to steady the metal fence. We even assigned some of us to stab the walkers in shifts.

But most of the time more had been gathered the next day.

Fabienne and Alex were a different topic. They were high up on cloud nine but I decided against telling them my opinion. Now and again I had my arguments with Shane because he treated Fabienne a little too rough for my liking. Of course Fabi assured me she could handle him but I still wasn’t okay with it. And I had learned long ago that arguing with my sisters was useless.

So because I couldn’t influence what was going on in their life, I decided to concentrate more on my kids. Loris death was still prominent in our heads but Carl proved himself to be a good big brother and a fantastic help. He loved Judith so much and would do anything for her. I sometimes couldn’t believe that that was the same kid he was before. In that moment, when I was lost in thought, my son came over to me with his sister in his arms. I had just started to feed the pigs and Judith seemed to enjoy them squeaking and splashing mud all over the place. Seeing them smile and feeling that they’re happy made me realize that it maybe wasn’t such a bad thing to have a baby growing up in all of this. Carefully I took Judy from him and showed her the pigs.

“Hey cuties.” we suddenly heard a voice behind us and when we turned around we saw it was Alex with Fabi trailing behind her. Judith started giggling upon seeing her aunts so Fabi took her from me “Well hello Judith. How is my favorite little nice today?” and shook her around a little. “A kid looks good on you.” Alex snickered and made Fabi look baffled at her but then she broke out in a huge smile. “I’m definitely not there yet.” she responded. Clever decision.

After a while of just enjoying the sun Shane and Daryl joined our group. “Break time?” Daryl grumbled at us. “hey there little asskicker.” he poked her on the nose lovingly. Even though she had a name by now he still called her little asskicker. Daryl was definitely good with her. She always stopped crying when he took her in his arms. Who would have thought that? The archer took Judith from Fabienne and held her close to his chest while she started grabbing at his long hair giggling to herself. People say that babies had a good intuition and people skills so I was sure that Daryl was a good guy.

“Whatcha say, are we gonna go on a run tomorrow?” Daryl wanted to know. We had been wanting to for the last few days but we always postponed it due to the walker almost pushing in the fences. We had needed everyone we could get. “If it isn’t gonna be as bad as it was...” I started but Alex interrupted me self assured “we can do it. You just concentrate on getting medicine and baby stuff, alright?” I knew she was right but I wasn’t feeling to well with the thought of having to leave them all here alone. Carl seemed to have noticed my discomfort so he intervened “I’m gonna take care of them dad.” I was so proud of him he had grown so much over the past year. So confident and strong. “Alright. I think that we can manage that somehow.” Daryl nodded shortly and handed me back my daughter before giving Alex a kiss “Come on Shane we gotta hold watch now.” he urged Shane and said his goodbye. The grumbling baby in my arms alerted me of the time and that she was hungry so I brought her inside to Carol and build up a few more wooden poles to hold the fence. All the while Maggie, Glenn, Fabienne and Alex killed a few more biters. And fortunately the rest of the day went by without any incidents.

The next morning Daryl and I started early. Relieved I saw that the herd at the fence wasn’t too big this time so I hoped they would manage it alone. Of course it always felt odd to me to leave them alone, because I wanted them so be safe. “Don’t overthink it. They’ll be fine.” Daryl tried to calm me down while I was staring thoughtfully out of the window.

The grocery store we had decided on raiding that day was still full of all kinds of supplies but the downside was that it was surrounded by walkers.  We lit a few flares that got their attention and pulled them away from the doors. That technique we had developed the last times we had been there. Daryl and I parted to cover as many aisles as we could and loaded as much stuff into our bags that we found. When we walked back to our car Daryl excused himself “I’ll be back in half an hour.” and then he was just gone. I was wondering what he had in mind.

Alex POV

Rick and Daryl were on a run since early that morning. That left us stabbing biters through the fences. The last weeks there hadn’t been one day where it had been quiet. More and more of the undead gathered outside and almost pushed our fences in. we even had to support them with wood. That morning Carl and Shane were on patrol. “Rick was quiet the past few weeks. There was almost no arguing between him ans Shane about you.” I said to Fabienne. Of course she knew what I meant. “I think that’s a good thing. I was really getting tired of them constantly bickering or yelling at each other.” well sometimes he was still giving his thoughts to everyone who didn’t wanna hear them and that sometimes didn’t end well. Even I had been lectured again by him. Daryl was a good guy. Rick trusted him like he was his own brother but he was the man by my side and Rick was worried that I would get hurt.

Suddenly we heard a loud cracking sound. Damn it. A pole had broken. Fabienne stormed over and tried to steady it but another one broke. “Fuck!” I yelled and we pushed against the fence together. But we didn’t think it was gonna hold much longer and just a second later the border that separated us from them collapsed. We had to sprint out of the danger zone but my foot caught on a root and I fell to the ground so Fabienne turned around panicked and helped me back to my feet but a walker had already grabbed for my leg and was almost there to bite into it when a loud banging sound coud be heard and the walker fell lifeless down to the ground.

We looked up and saw that in had been Carl who shot him so we kept on running because we didn’t have time to think about how close I had actually come to death.

After we had closed another gate behind us Shane had already thrown us some rifles and we had started shooting the herd. The past weeks we had tried to save ammunition by only stabbing not shooting them but in that situation we couldn’t avoid it. It was a really hard task but after an agonizing half hour or so they laid all dead before us. Suddenly I noticed how exhausted I was after the adrenaline had worn off and I fell to the ground, with the others next to me. “that was just a matter of time.” Shane sighed. “You all okay?” he looked through our faces. I just nodded. Too shocked and tired to ask but I looked worriedly over to Fabi. But she seemed to be fine too.

A truck is placed in front of the locked gate because we weren’t sure how long that was gonna last and the following day we could start with rebuilding the knocked down fence. While Shane and Carl were patrolling again Fabi and I went inside to calm down a bit more. We had really gotten lucky out there. Could have gotten much worse. Sitting down on my bed my thoughts wandered to how to repair the fences most effective but first we needed to wait until Rick came back.

“I was so afraid something was gonna happen to you… hadn’t Carl reacted that fast...” Fabienne didn’t finish that sentence because she was tearing up by then so I hugged her tight to make her feel safe. I loved my sister more than anything and I was as much afraid for her than she was for me. “Everything went fine. I’m okay. You’re okay. What else can we ask for?” I tried to cheer her up. “You know what? You calm down a bit and get a goods night sleep and I’ll take your shift tonight, okay?” I offered her. She hadn’t had much time for herself or for Shane lately. Always busy my big sister. She had taken a lot of night shifts recently so she didn’t even get enough sleep. Fabienne was so eager then because she didn’t wanna lose the home we had made.

After my proposal she immediately wanted to protest but I chimed in “no discussions darling. Take some time off and calm down. What you do can’t be healthy.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek and took off. How often had she taken my shifts over the past weeks? She had wanted to give me time with Daryl. His shoulder had still been hurting a lot and he only calmed and kept the pressure off of it when we were alone.

When they arrived back Rick stormed into the cell block. “Are you alright? I saw the fence is broken and Carl told me what happened.” behind him Daryl stood in the doorway. He wasn’t a man of big emotions but I always noticed what he felt and in that moment I knew he was worried. He looked so handsome throwing me glances through his bangs. But I gave my attention back to Rick who gave us both a kiss then said “we’re gonna work something out. I don’t want to give up our home here without a fight.”

When the following silence had passed I asked if they had found something of interest into the room. Daryl showed us two big backpacks of supplies and I sighed in relieve. We really needed that.

We did one last check outside to see if everything was gonna hold for the night but it seemed to be alright. Glenn and Maggie switched with Shane and Carl.

When the evening rolled around all of us ate together again while the men were standing in a corner probably talking about how we were gonna fix the fence the following day. “I gotta say Shane has grown on me.” I whispered to my sister who turned to me smiling. Happy that I finally approved. I gotta say that it wasn’t like I hadn’t liked him before but you had to be careful around him. He could go from 0 to 100 in 0.4 seconds if someone said something he didn’t like. But I could see that he was nice enough and a good guy for my sister. Maybe he had really changed. And Fabienne seemed really genuinely happy with him. She hugged me close to her chest and started to cough suddenly. “you good?” I asked her. “Yeah just a dry throat.” she dismissed the topic and we had a really nice evening from then on...