#spent a week just living in the woods last year it was great

[daytaker]

Hello! I’ve viewed your blog a few times and i really really like the way that you write, so when I learned that asks were i couldn’t help but make a request. Can we get some headcaons of the brothers meeting MC’s family for the first time and already Mama MC doesn’t like any of them because “they took away her baby.” Sorry if this is a little cringe.

But of course!

(Part 2: The Dateables + Luke)

"Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends."

...is what you want to say, but you know better than to panic your parents and fluster your totally platonic demon friends at a time like this.

And what a time it is. Here you are, surrounded by your parents, an aunt, your grandpa, and your sister, trying to calm your mother down from yet another diatribe about how you can't just get up and leave for a year---I mean, God, the police were looking for you! The police! You realize we thought they'd find your body in the woods somewhere? How could you do this to us?!---when suddenly:

Knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock knock. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"MC! Hey MC!"

"Mammon, if they hear you, you'll ruin the surprise!"

You and your relatives stare at the door. Then they all look at you. You give an awkward smile.

"Just give me a minute... I think those are some friends of mine..."

You really wish you lived somewhere besides a one bedroom apartment, but honestly, impossible in this economy. So you don't have anywhere remotely private to tell the brothers to scatter until the dust clears. In fact, the instant you open the door, Asmodeus flings his arms around you and kisses you on the cheek---in full view of your family, mind you!---and Beel shoves a box of half-eaten chocolates into your hand. Then seven voices are all clamoring for your attention at once on one end, and another five behind you. There are thirteen individuals in this tiny apartment, you realize, and you don't even have enough seats for your family to all sit. Your sister's seated on the floor.

"Heyyyyy guys, now's....not a great time...." A smile is plastered to your face as you tip your head in the direction of your extremely concerned parents. "And...seriously? It hasn't been two weeks yet."

Mammon looks confused, then indignant. "What? ...Hey, what the hell? You're already makin' new friends?! We really that replaceable?!"

Lucifer, who stands in the back holding a balloon bouquet with a jarringly serious expression on his face, speaks up. "I believe those are MC's relatives, Mammon. It seems we came at an inopportune time after all."

"Relatives?!" Asmo and Mammon hurry on over to give them all a good look-over, the others curiously observing.

"You're MC's mom, aren't you! Oh, MC! I see where you get your cheekbones!" Asmo gushes as your mother stares at him like he's from another planet. Which he sort of is, in a sense.

"MC? Who are these people?" your grandpa asks with bewilderment and not a small amount of concern.

"They're, um..."

"They're hot." Your sister waves her fingers at the group, and you wish you had perma-died in that attic.

You need to explain yourself quickly. On the spot. You'd already told your family you'd had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and gone backpacking across the country for the year, working through the mental collapse that living in the 21st century inevitably caused, so you ride off of that. These are a ragtag bunch you met on the road, you explain. You'd spent the better part of last year roughing it from the hills of Kentucky to the forests of Washington with these guys, and you'd become incredibly close as a result. You'd lived together, laughed together, loved together, and some of them even tried to kill you on a few occasions.

("'Tried'?" mutters Satan, and Belphie gives him a death glare.)

Under the leadership of the charismatic eldest brother, Lucifer, you'd become so close that it felt as if your very souls were somehow tethered---

"I'm sorry, 'Lucifer'?" Your mom has had just about enough of this. She approaches you with a look of heartbreaking concern in her eyes and cups your face. "....Baby, did you join a cult?"

"Who does she think she is, callin' 'em that?" seethes Mammon under his breath.

"Mammon, she's my MOM."

"Alright, I think I've seen enough." Dad gets up and eyes the boys sternly. "I dunno what you've been doing with my child, but it's gonna stop, you understand? I've got a homicide detective on speed dial because of you clowns."

"Is this where they get their assertiveness from?" speculated Levi to Beel, who simply shrugged.

"Listen, I think you're all just...misunderstanding each other!" Son of Gardonus, where are you even supposed to start? You grab the nearest demon---

(Individual brothers are below the cut!)

Lucifer

"This is Lucifer."

He gives you a look that says 'you really are as stupid as I've sometimes feared'. Why didn't you come up with a fake name?

"That was a joke."

Good, things are still salvageable.

"Because following his instructions is a lot like being in Hell."

He hates you.

"If that's the devil, then call me a sinner," your aunt says, sipping her third glass of wine.

"His real name is Boris."

He hates you so much.

"Pretty well-dressed for a man who spent a year on the road," observes your Mom with undisguised distrust. "Let me guess: while you were out gathering food and panhandling to survive, he stayed indoors doing whatever the hell he felt like doing, and at the end of the day, you'd take everything you'd earned and hand it over to him, and he'd toss you some pittance in return."

"How does she know that?!" Mammon gasps.

You try explaining to your mom that there was no cult, but she hushes you remorselessly.

You beg Lucifer with your eyes not to kill your entire family please. It seems to work.

Mammon

"Mammon, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Mammon. Mammon, say hello."

"Hello. Agh! Dammit! You're really gonna use that now?!"

Oops. Pact magic. It can be a little unpredictable at times. You ruffle his hair apologetically.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable over the last year, you explain. "Best buds, pretty much." He was the first of the group you got close with. Mammon seems extremely proud of this.

"Please tell me 'best bud' isn't a euphemism, MC." Your dad gives you a pleading look. "I don't know how many more surprises I can take today." You two seem far too affectionate and touchy-feely for his liking.

Your sister grins at him from her seat on the floor, which seems to embarrass and confuse him tremendously. He's refusing to look at her. Poor guy. The two of you do look a lot alike...

Levi

"This is Levi."

"Ah, that almost sounds like a normal name. Why Leh-vee, though? Why don't you pronounce it LEE-vie?

"It's short for Leviathan," he says before you can stop him.

Your sister starts cackling and Levi is very embarrassed and indignant but mostly confused.

"Is this like a cult thing?" your aunt asks. "Naming everyone after biblical demons?" She nods and raises her eyebrows, impressed, and lifts her glass in Lucifer's direction.

"And you've been out roughing it in the great outdoors?" your grandpa asks.

"Errrr..."

"Yes, he has."

"Hmm...." Grandpa stares at Levi without a word, and your sister cackles again, and Levi looks like he'll either start bawling or go full demon and kill everybody in a sort of panicked rage. You return him to his brothers.

Satan

"This is---"

"I'm Derek. Nice to meet you."

You side-eye Satan. Apparently he was not taking any risks of you straight up calling him 'Satan' in front of everyone.

Your sister and aunt both look disappointed by this name, which seems to please Satan a whole lot.

"So," your mom says, thinking this little introduction has gotten off to way too friendly a start, "you're another one of MC's... 'friends', are you?"

"Yep," you say, refusing to acknowledge that there was any innuendo to read into.

"How the hell did you get wrapped up in a cult, Derek?" your aunt asks incredulously. "You look like you came straight from a prep school... Or the Ivies, or something. Kid, let me tell you what." She points a finger at Satan without giving him an opportunity to respond. "Let me tell you, you're gonna kick yourself when you're old and ugly and you realize you wasted your time in a cult looking like you were headed to a game of polo."

"You should've given yourself a cool name like those other guys," your sister throws in.

"Guys, please."

"What? At least the other guys had character. Lucifer, the sexy vampire prince, or something. Mammon, the... Is he a himbo or a bad boy?" ("A himbo," you confirm.) "Mammon, the hellish himbo! Leviathan, a literal fish out of water! But him? This guy's just Derek from IT." Your sister blows a raspberry and gives a thumb down. "Next."

Behind you, you hear Lucifer mutter, "Mammon. Levi. Hold Satan back."

Asmo

"This is Asmo. Please don't tear him a new one, he's---"

Your sister shakes her head. "I would NEVER. This guy looks like so much fun. Like, I'm getting shopping all day, clubbing all night vibes, am I right?"

Asmo winks at your sister, and she blushes. She blushes. You're in awe.

"Hellooooo~! I'm Asmodeus, and it's wonderful to meet you all!"

"You're the one that kissed my grandchild," Grandpa recalls, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"But MC loves when I give them kisses! Surely you all understand, right?"

....

"Right..."

....

Motherfucker, Asmo just charmed your family.

Beel

"This is Beel. Beel, this is...everyone."

"Hi. Good to meet you." Beel is very polite, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you a drink of water and a half." You hate your aunt so much sometimes.

Beel frowns. "I'd rather have something a little more filling than water."

You see a look in your aunt's eyes and you jump before she has the chance to strike.

"If you say you're on the menu, Aunt Gina, I swear--"

"What's 'Beel' short for?" your mom asks sternly.

"Beelzebub," Beel answers with an adorable but also infuriating level of innocence.

Your sister is cackling again.

Belphie

Hey, where'd Belphie go?

You look around, confused.

Oh. He wandered to your room while everyone was distracted.

He's sleeping on your bed, hugging your pillow. And drooling on it.

Your relatives stand behind you, observing the scene somberly.

"What's he on?" asks your sister in a whisper. "Like... he's definitely on something, right?"

"Freeloader. That goes for the whole lot of 'em. At least this one is honest about it. Just walks in and treats the place like it's his." Your dad is very annoyed.

"He's got narcolepsy," you insist. You don't know enough about narcolepsy to be sure if that seems like a reasonable excuse, but you're counting on your family not knowing either.

"How the hell did you all get around with a narcoleptic?" your aunt asks, elbowing Lucifer in the ribs. "Hah! Oh, MC, sweetie, I need a refill."

When you manage to get the brothers out of your apartment, you turn around and face your family. They're staring at you.

Your sister breaks the silence. "So like... how many of them have you--?"

[saturnville]

in the dirty south.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: the people have spoken. cowboy!coriolanus is here. definitely called on my grandmother's southern roots for this so be prepared. I don't know who started cowboy!coriolanus, but all respect and credit to the individual who did. please let me know what y'all think of this!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

Outside visiters were not a common occurance the city. The town was small and everybody knew everybody. One would be a fool to think anything that occured in their lives wouldn't be common knowledge to the inhabitants of the town. She wished she had the same type of delusion.

Once every few months, the mayor of the town found it suitable to host a fair. Something to ease the growing tensions between the families and to usher in a type of fun no one had seen since the rebellions took place.

She wouldn't say she didn't enjoy the fairs, but she knew there were other ways to spend her time aside from handing out freshly baked slices of poundcake and a cup of milk, courtesy of her mother and grandmother.

"Delilah! It's time to go, baby." Her mother's voice was rough like gravel yet soothing like silk. Everyone called her comparison foolish, as they didn't understand. But, until they felt the way her words calmed their soul like a newborn being rocked by its mother, they never would.

Delilah hollered back, "Comin', mama!" She stood in front of the mirror--dingy and stained from being passed down from her great-great-grandmother, and so short that she had to stand on her toes to see her full outfit. Her hands swiped over the fabric of her dress. It was new; her grandmother spent 3 weeks making it. A corset dress as bright as the dust that left her shoulders exposed to the kisses of the sun. She smiled at her reflection and pushed her hair away from her face. She shoved her feet into her boots and ran down the stairs.

Delilah questioned if they arrived late or if everyone else arrived early in anticipation. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of black and brown with a smile on her face. Small "pardon mes" and "excuse mes" poured from her lips like water as she attempted not to knock anyone over with her basket.

She followed her mother like a lost puppy to their assigned tent. Right next to Uncle Turner's barbeque restauraunt and the bathroom. Perfect, she said to herself. Lucille dropped the basket against the wood table and began plucking out the tablecloth and napkins.

"Lilah, I'm gon' grab some pitchers of water inside Turner's. I'll be back shortly." Mama's lips turned upward with a soft smile. Delilah nodded and continued her setting up the table.

Beads of sweat gathered at her forehead and her brown skin stung under the gaze of a burning sun. God, she hoped they wouldn't be outside for 10 hours like they were the last time. She couldn't sworn she melted like an ice cream cone within an hour.

Delilah hummed a church hymn to herself and tossed the basket behind her. She plopped down on the ragged bench and crossed her legs just as her mother taught her years ago, folded her hands over her lap, and watched as people walked passed.

People watching was one of her favorite pasttimes. To her left was a young girl riding on her wooden rocking horse, squealing with glee. To her right was a group of young boys tackling each other to the ground as their mother hollered for them to quit roughhousing. Delilah giggled.

She raised her eyes and jerked backward when she saw a group of men walking past. Four of them to be exact. Three were familiar faces: Elijah, Malachi, and Ezra. The boys whom she grew up with. They used to sleep in the same bed together when their mothers worked at the restaurant late at night. But, there was another one she'd never seen before.

He was unfamiliar. There were a few white boys sprinkled here and there, but in her town, it wasn't a frequent occurance. He seemed comfortable, too, with a boyish smirk on his face as he made the boys' head fly back with glee.

She could tell his hands were strong by the way they latched around the harness that allowed him to control the beautiful horse he rode upon. She looked around and saw other women eyeing the stranger. Who was he?

The man slid off the horse and tied the harness against a stake, and followed the men as they approached her mother's tent. His eyes were curious as they examined his surroundings. Delilah brushed the loose curls away from her face and smiled. "Hi, boys."

A series of disgruntled greetings came from them as they padded around the bench to engulf Delilah in a hug. The stranger stayed in front of her, eyes narrow.

"Where's Mama?" Elijah asked. His green eyes searched for the middle-aged woman.

"She's in Turner's getting some water. Might as well help her while you're lookin' for her," Delilah suggested with a shrug. She could feel icy eyes on her. "She'll mess around and drop them tryin' to do the most. Go catch up to her."

"Delilah," said Malachi. "This is Coriolanus. We, uh, we go back. Old friends. We're gon' help, Mama, but Lilah, don't scare him off." Delilah met his eyes. "I won't."

The boys shuffled off to the restaurant to find her mother, which left Delilah in the presence of Coriolanus. It was unique. She'd never heard anything like it. It sounded prestigious, elite.

He was handsome. Messy curls underneath his hat. Strong stature covered by a thick long-sleeve shirt and vest. Her gaze dropped to his belt. Brown with a holster that held, what she assumed was, a fully loaded pistol. And his boots, worn, dirty, and scuffed, just like hers. A country boy.

"Delilah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Coriolanus." Delilah extended her hand slowly. Coriolanus turned his head to the side. Her hands were slender and her nailbeds were painted a blood red. His tongue danced over his tooth.

"No need for that, darling. Nice to meet you," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His hand was much bigger in hers. Calloused like he wrestled animals in the wilderness. Strong like they'd hold her body upright with ease. His eye contact was strong and he could feel it melting her chocolate orbs away.

When he spoke, she noticed that his accent was nowhere as thick as her own, but a southern twang was laced in his words. Almost like he'd been taught. "Where are you from?" To keep herself from getting weak in the knees, she decided to start setting out the serving ware for the cake. Coriolanus' eyes followed her every action.

"Up north," he replied shortly. "Got in a bit of a mess. Decided to come down south for a while."

Delilah hummed and pulled the lid off the poundcake. Its glaze glistened underneath the sun. Just like her. Coriolanus chuckled to himself. "Do you like it?" She looked up at him through her eyelids.

She was so beautiful. He'd seen his fair share of pretty women since being placed in a new District. But she, Lord, this Delilah was something different. She was short in stature with strong shoulders and hips that were not well hidden beneath her dress. She had a cute smile that was covered by full, cherry colored lips. And her hair, so coily and full in a bun upon her head.

Coriolanus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I like it a lot."

Delilah detected the tone of his voice and fought the urge to smile. "I'm glad that's the case."

It was difficult for Delilah to keep her eyes off Coriolanus. Where he moved, her eyes followed. When he spoke to another woman and charmed her with his smile and bright eyes, she felt a twing of jealousy hit. Then, she'd call herself foolish for even being the slightest bit possessive over a man she'd only known for five hours.

She did her best to keep herself preoccupied with the poundcake in front of her. It worked for the most part, until the bench wobbled by the weight of another. Delilah turned to her left and found Coriolanus leaned against the side. "Can I join you, pretty?"

Pretty. Delilah's body warmed as she nodded. Coriolanus swung his leg over the side of the bench and took a seat. His clothed thigh brushed against her exposed once, causing her leg to jump slightly. He noticed, but chose not to say anything.

"You enjoying the fair?" Coriolanus asked.

"Yeah. It's always a fun time. Plus the food is great, too." She raised her fork that held a piece of cake on it. "Have you tried the poundcake? My mama makes the best ever."

Coriolanus shook his head. Delilah gathered a piece on the fork and held it out with the intention for him to pluck it off, but she was shocked when his full lips wrapped around the edge of the fork. His eyes were trained on hers. A gasp fell from her lips.

He hummed softly. "Delicious." He prepared to spur her on further, finding amusement in her disheveled state, but was called back by Elijah. "I'm comin'!. Save some for me later, darlin'. I'll see you later, alright?"

Delilah nodded and bit her lip. "Alright."

He threw her a wink and walked away. He was far from done with her.

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 9)

DESCRIPTION: During you're time in the safe house you experience an event that'll likely cause your whole life to change.

WORD COUNT: 3110

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: pregnancy, giving birth, swearing, really bad writing to be honest

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

You'd been living in the safe house for a little under 2 months now. Celebrated Christmas and the New Year inside of it. You saw the man who delivered you new food every week on a Sunday. Edward his name was. Asking him to buy some specific things for your sisters so they could still have a somewhat normal Christmas, given the circumstances. It was quite nice being the three of you though. Over the winter you spent the short days reading, the long nights playing cards.

It was mid January, like any other Sunday. You sat in the living room. Reading a book. Only a few days left before February came around. Which you were greatful for. This month always seemed to last ages and summer would always seem so far away. A knock at the door. Elizabeth calls out.

"I'll get it" she says cheerfully. You stand up. A weird pain going through you as you stand. Letting out a small huff of air as you rub your stomach. Paying it no mind before walking over to the door. You see Edward outside. Brown paper bag with various bits in as he talks to Liz. Who keeps playing with her hair. You half smile at the scene before waddling over. He sees you, a smile on his face. Different to the one he gave your sister but you pay it no mind.

"You life saver" you say. Holding your hand out for the bag. He shakes his head.

"I don't think you should be carrying anything unnecessarily in your condition" he motions at your rather huge stomach.

"Is it really obvious that I'm pregnant?" he laughs as you comically push your stomach out. Motioning for him to come in. He goes to the kitchen. He'd been here plenty of times before so knew where to go. Placing the bag down onto the side.

"I even managed to get you-" he reaches into the bag. Pulling out two oranges.

"Oh my god yes" you hold a hand out, him passing it to you as he starts to empty the bag. That's when you feel it. The same sharp pain going through your side. You brace your hands on the counter. Furrowing your brow before the pain stops just as suddenly as it had started. Edward watches you

"You ok Mrs Shelby?" you nod. Standing back up again, rubbing your stomach.

"Yeah just peachy. Or should I say-" you hold the orange up again "Orangey". He rolls his eyes.

"I thought the dad was meant to say the bad jokes?" you laugh, starting to peel the fruit. Going to say something but the pain comes back. Harder this time. Ed stops what hes doing. Coming over to you as he steadies you. You bend forward. Grabbing his hand and clinging onto it as if your life depended on it. "Liz call the midwife" you see her running off.

"No" you call out. A small plea in your voice "please don't.... fuck!" you say. Hearing her speaking on the phone.

"Lets get you sat down" he says. Pulling out a dining chair as Liz runs back in, shortly followed by Mary.

"Midwife is on the way"

"Good. Flo just breath"

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" you shut your eyes. Rubbing your stomach as you speak in a low whisper. "Please get them out of this room" you say, almost as a sob. He nods. Motioning for your sisters to leave. SHhtting the door behind them to the kitchen. He comes and sits next to you. You dig your nails into the wood of the table.

"We- We should contact my husband"

"I can't do that" you look at him. Focusing on your breathing as you give him a questioning look. "Mr Shelby was very clear on his instructions. We do not contact him no matter what. To keep you, your child, and your sister safe". You chuckle slightly. A shaky breath out as you look away from him. Another contraction hitting you. You bend over slightly. Hand going to your stomach as your nails scratching the table before balling it into fists. Feeling the pain of your nails into the flesh of your palm.

Letting out a crying laugh as the pain subsides. Shaking your head slightly. "I'm having his baby and hes to fucking busy to come and see me"

"Its for your safety Mrs Shelby" you run a hand over your face. Pushing yourself up from your chair. Starting to pace. Ed stands too, hands outstretched like your a stray dog hes trying to tame. "I think you should remain sat down" you shake your head. Swaying on your feet side to side. Hearing the front door knock. Ed stands up. You shut your eyes as you hear the door open. The familiar voice of your midwife being heard.

She walks into the kitchen. Smiling at you as she places a medical bag onto the dining room table. "Its nice to see you again Mrs Shelby" you nod. Breathing deeply through your nose as she continues to speak. "Why don't we go to the bedroom for a little more privacy, hmm?" you nod.

Letting her take your arm as she leads you to the bedroom. You stay standing as she goes and and moves your pillows around for you.You stand as she does so, swaying softly as you shut your eyes. Ed following with the medical kit. She looks at him, taking the kit from him.

"Thank you" she smiles at him. He stands, hands placed neatly in front of him as he watches. She coughs slightly, causing him to look at her "I'm going to have to ask you to leave sir. There's no men allowed in the delivery room"

"I can't do that. I'm sorry ma'am" she turns to face him fully.

"I understand your concern. But my only aim for this visit is to deliver the baby safely. Your men have already checked my person. I am unarmed. Now I need you to leave so that I can do my job" he looks at her.

"I'll be just outside the door. If I hear anything unusual I will make no hesitation to come in here" she nods. Him turning tail and heading out the door. Shutting it behind him as your midwife faces you. A smile back on her face. "Why don't you come and lie down on the bed Mrs Shelby?"

"I don't want to lie down"

"I'll be able to help you a lot better if you lie down and let me have a look at whats happening".

"Is it to late to not have it?" she half smiles.

"Unfortunately so. Come on" she gently takes your shoulders. Leading you to the bed. Helping you up and lie down. Going between your thighs as she examines you. You shut your eyes as you breath.

"You're 4cm dilated"

"6 to go, right?" she nods. You shake your head. Turning your legs to go back over the bed. Standing up and pacing again. Gripping the end of the bed frame as another contraction hits. Screaming out. Dorothy (the midwife) coming over and comforting you. Rubbing firm yet gentle circles onto your lower back. She continues to rub onto your back. Massaging the pain away as best as she could.

"I want my husband" you say in a choked sob. "Please..."

"I can't do that Mrs Shelby. I'm sorry. What you need to focus on is getting this baby out. Do you think you can do that?" you shake your head.

"No. No I cant do it. I cant do this" you grip the bed frame tighter. Crying out again. "I need my husband... Please..." She waits for this contraction to pass before helping you to lie down onto the bed.. Dorothy checks how dilated you are.

"You're at 10cm my lovely"

"What the fuck does that mean?" you say. Hand coming up and covering your eyes.

"It means that you can start pushing for me. Count to 3 and give a really big push. 1, 2, 3 - that's it. Good girl. Do that one more time for me ok? 1, 2, 3 and push. Well done my lovely. The head is out. Hold it there. You're doing so well. Ok. Now do it one more time. Do you think you can do it? Come on. 1. 2. 3. Push. Keep pushing. Keep going. Well done. You did so well"

You pant. Eyes opening as you look. Dorothy clamping the two ends of the umbilical cord. Cutting it. Your eyes follow her as she holds your baby. Her rubbing its back. Unable to hear its cries a fear washes over you. "Is my baby ok?". As if on cue you start to hear its crying. A sigh of relief as she wraps the small human up in a blanket.

"Congratulations Mrs Shelby. You have a beautiful baby boy". You get handed him. A smile on your face as you look at the child you had made.

"Oh my god" you say in a soft whisper. Gently stroking the babes features. You feel Dorothy help clean everything up. Covering your lower regions before opening the door. You cant see it but Edward, Elizabeth, and Mary all wait outside the door. They come in. Edward checking to make sure everything seems well as Elizabeth and Mary rush to your side. Looking at your baby. A smile on your features as you look at the child.

"Have you thought of any names?"

"Yes. We were going to see if it was a boy or a girl first" you look up at her. "We're going to call him Charles" looking back down at the baby. "Charles Shelby" you whisper the name. Closing your eyes as you kiss his forehead.

-

5 months had passed. You were still in the safe house. Your midwife had stopped coming regularly around 4 months ago. Although she did tell you that if you had any further questions to contact the doctors. Edward was still coming every Sunday. Delivering you all food as you remained on lock down. Liz and Mary outside in the garden. Happy to be in the summer sun.

You were sat on the living room floor. Holding a toy that Edward had brought you as a gift for Charles. You play with it. Booping it onto the childs nose causing him to giggle. That's when you hear the front door open. Turning to look at the hallway. Edward wasn't meant to come round for another 3 days and the men patrolling your house never came in. You stand up. Picking up your child as you hold him close to you.

Rubbing his back as you make your way to the living room door. Poking your head round you see someone you weren't expecting.

"Thomas..." you whisper his name. Him examining the pictures on the wall. Turning to face you at hearing his name. He smiles at you. His cold stare growing warm as they meet yours. "I- I wasn't expecting you today" he nods.

"I told you I'd come and get you once the threat had been dealt with. So here I am".

"So we're safe to come back home?" he nods. You smile. Hugging the child you were holding close to you. Shutting your eyes as you rest your head against Charlie. "We can go home" you whisper. "We can go home". Kissing the side of his head. You open your eyes. Seeing your husbands eyes on the child your holding.

"Shit" you look between the two of them "shit yes. Tom meet your son. Charles" he comes over fully. The baby staring at him as he gently strokes the babes cheeks. This close proximity you get the scent of whiskey and cigarettes from your husband. The familiarity of it causing you to relax as he smiles at his child. The baby smiling back at him. Mimicking his dads expression.

"I've come to take you, your mum, and your aunties home. What do you say about that, ey?". You kiss your childs cheek before stroking his hair. Turning to Tommy.

"Could you hold him whilst I get the girls and our stuff please?". He nods without hesitation. Hands coming out as he takes your child. A genuine smile on his face as he takes him in his hold. The child looks at you, reaching a hand out. You take it. Kissing the back of his fingers.

"I will be back soon my love" kissing his fingers again. "You stay here with your dad, ok? I'll only be a minute" Stroking his cheek. He looks at his father. The hand you were holding goes to his dads cheek. An unsure but small smile comes over the youngers face. You stroke his hair again. Kissing the top of his head. "I'll be quick".

You're husband drives you all back home. Pulling up outside your house. The back doors open as your sisters get out. You grab the handle to open the car door. Stepping out as you hold your son. Liz and Mary grab your bags as well as their own as the start going into the house. You smile as you look at the familiar building.

Thomas comes over to you. A hand going gently to your upper arm as he looks at you. You turn your head. Meeting his ocean eyes. "I have a present for you". Your brow knits together as you look at him.

"What for?"

"Many reasons. To celebrate our one year anniversary, the birth of our son, Christmas, plus the fact that the threat that separated us is now gone for good" he pauses for a moment. Letting the words hit your ears

"What is it then?"

"That defeats the point of a present if I tell you, ey? All I ask is that you and Charlie get into the car and I'll take you to it" you don't move. Instead just watching him. Trying to read him. It had been a while so you were a little rusty. "Trust me, Florence". You nod slightly.

"I trust you Mr Shelby" he smiles. You move to the side as he reaches behind you. Grabbing the car door, opening it for you as you get in. Shutting it behind you before getting into the drivers seat. Charlie watches your husband as he loosens his tie. Pulling it up and over his head. Turning to face you as he holds it in his palms.

"You still trust me Mrs Shelby?". You look at the tie. Then looking at his eyes. His soft, pulling you in as they scan your features. "Do you?". He repeats. You bite the inside of your lip. Looking at the tie again before nodding. Looking back at his eyes he smiles. You wrap and arm around your son. Holding him close to you as Tommy brings the tie up. Wrapping it around your head and tying it in the back. You reach a hand out. Gently touching his shoulder "Is that comfortable?". You nod. Feeling him shift. The car engine starting. A rumble going through you and the vehicle as you feel it starting to move.

"Where are we going Mr Shelby?"

"You're going to have to wait and see". You feel his hand go to your leg. Squeezing it softly before moving back again. Your hand remaining on his shoulder as a form of security for you.

You're unsure of how much time goes by before the car comes to a stop. He removes your hand from his shoulder. Placing it to join the other one wrapped around Charles. Hearing the door beside you opening. You feel him remove the child from your lap before a hand comes out and takes yours. Helping you step out the car.

"You know, making your blindfolded wife get out of a car whilst she wears heels may not be the best idea you've ever had". A chuckle escapes him. Causing you to smile "Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself at this image"

"Very much so" he says. You can hear the smirk in his voice as you successfully get out the car. He turns you. Bringing your arms up as he places Charlie back into your arms. Not letting him go fully until he knows you have a good hold on him. Feeling him move behind you. You move your head, tilting it so you can hear him better when he speaks. "Are you ready?". You nod. Feeling his hands come up. Untying the tie around your eyes. Taking it and placing the material in his pocket.

You blink a few times. Eyes becoming re-accustomed to the light. Feeling his hands gently rest onto your upper arms. You hold Charlie as you manage to focus on a house standing before you. No. Better described as a mansion. He leans near your ear. Speaking into it. "Welcome to our new home - Arrow House"

"Our- Did you just say our home?" he nods. His hands still resting on your arms. Holding you as you whisper "This is ours...?" Scared if you speak any louder you might break the magical atmosphere. A smile on his face as drops your arms. He comes round to the front of you. Outstretching a hand, to which you take. Holding Charlie still.

Awestruck as he goes up to the front door. Leading you with him. Opening it you go inside the beautiful entrance way. "Your fucking kidding me" you say. Adjusting Charlie on your hip. Looking up at the grand staircase. He watches you. His hands placed comfortably in front of him. "This is a joke right? This is a friends house that you've borrowed or something"

"I had some spare money left over that I needed to spend. Given the circumstances of your pregnancy I thought it only made sense to buy us a house. One that could accommodate for us"

"Fuck me..." you whisper. He takes out a cigarette. Rolling it over his lips. Taking out a lighter and lighting the end. Drawing a drag from it before removing it from his lips. Placing the lighter back into his pocket.

"We have room for a few maids which should be starting at the end of the week. I've got a few cars to come by to deliver your personal items. They should be arriving later today" he places it back in his mouth.

"You've really set a high bar for presents. You realise that Mr Shelby?" he smiles. Watching as you bring a hand up. Feeling joyfully overwhelmed.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67

[peterhollandkait]

You Are My Heaven On Earth - Joel Miller

Pairing: No outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel have been dating for over a year, but you never knew he could sing until Sarah revealed his little secret to you during a movie night.

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Oral sex (fem receiving), slight cockblocking, Joel singing is his own warning, soft!Joel

WC: 2173

A/N: It's finally here! This is my first time posting smut, so please be kind. Shoutout to @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery for helping me when I started to PANIC. Y'all are my saviors.

Link to the song Joel sings here.

You’d met Joel about a year ago, having just moved a few blocks away from his house in the same neighborhood. When a neighbor suggested Joel’s company to fix the fence on your property, you were pleasantly surprised to find that Mr. Miller was an extremely attractive man your age and not an older gentleman with decades worth of relationships in your vicinity. 

Joel and his younger brother Tommy replaced your fence easily and in a timely fashion, even sealing the wood when you asked about weather protection. 

You spent the week watching the brothers work and when Tommy wasn’t there, learning more about Joel. You learned he was a single dad to a daughter named Sarah, who was ten and his entire world. He’d been a contractor since before graduating high school and started his own company just a few years ago after his brother returned from the military. 

He also learned about you, how you worked at the museum in town as a curator after graduating from graduate school a few years previous. How one of your great grandparents had died and left you a chunk of change big enough to put a deposit on a house. 

You made him lunch every day, paired with either countless glasses of water or lemonade. It started as a kindness, something to show him appreciation for his work. But by the third day, you were itching to see his sweat soaked face and thick arms enter your house, sit at your table and eat the food you’d prepared for him. 

By the end of the week, you weren’t willing to let Joel walk out of your life until you needed another job done. As soon as you had handed Joel the check for his work and watched him place it in his pocket, you took the pen you were holding and boldly grabbed his hand, scribbling your house number over his knuckles.

Joel called you as soon as he’d gotten home that evening. 

So here you were, a year later, snuggling with Sarah on their couch watching the newest Barbie movie while you waited for Joel to come home for the night. When he still hadn’t arrived at her bed time, you went through the motions with her and tucked her in before returning to the couch. 

The evening’s Jeopardy episode was rerunning when Joel entered the house about an hour later, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He was happy to see it was only you on the couch, though he felt horrible for leaving you with Sarah duty, again. It was an unfortunate habit over the last few weeks, a particular job causing him anguish and keeping him late. 

You looked at him brightly from where you sat, your smile wide as you greeted him. “Hi, honey. Come sit.” You patted the couch next to you, luring him in. 

He abided, sighing again as he settled into the cushions. Immediately, you crawled your way into his lap, hands rubbing up and down his arms and shoulders soothingly. 

“Hi, sweet pea,” he whispered, eyes falling closed from the bliss of your touch. God, he loved you.

“Sarah told me a secret today,” you whispered back, hands still moving. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Your smirk was evident in your voice as you said, “She told me how you can play guitar and, I couldn’t believe it, sing. What have you been hiding from me, cowboy?”

Joel’s chuckle rattled in his chest, his eyes opening to see your mischievous grin. “She said that? She must have gotten me confused with another dad.”

“Hm, I don’t think so. There’s only one Joel Miller that lives in this house.” You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips gently. “What do I have to do to get a pretty boy like you to sing for me?” 

Joel’s cock twitched as you uttered the words, making you smirk. “Tell you what, pretty boy,” you paused, emphasizing on the last two words. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with his hard swallow, eyes watching you carefully. “Sing a few songs for me and I’ll let you have your way with me. How does that sound?”

Joel nodded, albeit a bit frantically. He’d take you right here on this couch if it meant you’d keep calling him your pretty boy. 

“Guitar is in the bedroom, s-sweet pea,” he stuttered, hands gravitating to your hips as you ground against him. 

“Okay, honey.” You grabbed his hands as you stood, leading him up the stairs to his bedroom. You’d changed into one of his flannels after Sarah had gone to bed, the fabric almost reaching your knees as you walked. 

You hadn’t planned on teasing Joel to death, truly. But when he walked in after a long day with exhaustion exuding from his body, you figured he could use a little fun before the weekend began in earnest. 

When you reached the bed, you settled yourself in the middle, legs open and on display while Joel pulled the guitar case from under his bed. 

Joel was nervous as he clicked open the case, pulling the acoustic guitar from its resting place. He hadn’t sung for anyone in a long time, anyone except Sarah of course.

His hands shook as he moved himself onto the bed next to you, guitar settled on his lap. He tested a few strums, taking his time to tune the instrument before he began. 

Your voice caught in your throat at the sound of Joel’s sweet melody filled the room. His voice was soft, yet gritty as he crooned the lyrics of Garth Brooks’ “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”

If I never wake in the morning

Would she ever doubt the way I feel

About her in my heart

If tomorrow never comes

Will she know how much I loved her

Did I try in every way to show her every day

That she's my only one

Tears welled as you listened, love pouring from Joel’s soul as he went through the chorus and second verse. You laid your hand on his thigh closest to yours, watching him with soft eyes. 

Though his voice is rough from lack of use, the song was beautiful and full of his love for you. He had glanced at you several times during the song, but it was your expression at the end of the song that gave him purpose. 

He’d barely put the guitar aside before his hands were on you, lips chasing yours. You met him with equal force, bounding into his lap. His hands roamed your bare skin under the flannel you wore, finding purchase on your thighs as they straddled his hips. 

“That,” you moaned as his lips explored the skin down your neck and chest. “Was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

With your hands tangled in his brown curls, Joel explored lower, leaving marks along your collarbones and a particularly harsh bruise on your left breast. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your sensitive skin, the feeling soothed moments later with his gentle kisses to the area. 

Carefully Joel flipped you onto your back, undoing the buttons on the flannel as he moved down your body, head hovering just above the place you wanted him most. 

“Please,” you breathed out, hand tugging at his hair. “P-please Joel, right there.” 

Joel placed a kiss to your inner thigh, smirking into your skin as he tugged your underwear down your hips and tossed them behind him. 

“Are you going to be good for me, darling?” 

“S-so good…I’ll be so good.” Joel nudged your clit with his nose as you spoke, your hips bucking up in response. 

You felt his fingers first, sliding between your folds to collect the wetness there. He used his free hand to hold your thighs apart as his tongue found your clit, tracing skilled circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, back arching from his touch. 

Joel made a muffled sound of approval, continuing to devour your clit while two of his fingers inched into your entrance. You mewled at the feeling of his hands slowly spreading you open, his fingers curling just right to hit your most sensitive spot.

Joel ate you out like a man starved, his fingers finding an equal rhythm to match his pace against your cunt. You tugged on his hair in response, heavy moans escaping from your mouth. 

He pulled his mouth away from you slightly, hand continuing his movement as he said, “shh, darling. We don’t want to wake Sarah now. Be good for me and stay quiet sweet pea.”  

His fingers curled in that moment, your frantic nodding the only response you could give him as he continued his assault on you. 

With his mouth back on your clit, fingers continually reaching the spot that made you see stars, you were close. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you choked, your free hand grabbing the sheets for purchase. “Joel I’m gonna,” you groaned as he hummed against your skin, somehow moving faster than he had before.

Joel coaxed your orgasm out of you at a deliberate pace, your wetness covering his chin and beard as you came undone underneath him.

 He loved watching you come, the way your back arched and heels dug into the mattress. How you closed your eyes, groaning in pleasure as you called out his name. He loved knowing that he was the only one who could bring you to this state, panting and writhing from his touch. 

He carried you through your orgasm, mouth sucking at your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore, a hand gently shoving him away from over sensitivity. He slowly pulled his fingers from within you, raising them to his mouth and sucking your wetness from them, eyes watching you watch him. 

When he was finished, he trailed kisses back up your body, leaving a tender one on the bruising spot he’d left on the side of your breast before he reached your mouth again. 

You kissed him lazily, tasting yourself on him as you explored his mouth with your tongue. Joel moaned in return, a hand finding purchase on your hip.

 You tugged on his shirt, raising it over his head and tossing it aside before you began to work on his jeans when you heard a gentle knock on the door. “Daddy?”

You paused your movements, watching Joel as he sat back on his heels. “Just a sec, baby girl.” 

You squeezed his hand as he moved off of the bed, using the flannel still hanging on your body to wipe your wetness from his chin before he walked to the door. 

You sat up also, taking the few steps to Joel’s closet to find some more respectful clothing to put on for Sarah to see. 

Joel opened the door gently, peering down at his young daughter in the darkness of the hallway. “What’s wrong, baby girl? We didn’t wake you, did we?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I-I had a nightmare, daddy.”

“Oh darling,” Joel fell to his knees in front of Sarah, pulling her into his chest. “It’s alright, you’re safe now. 

You heard her sniffle before she mumbled, “Can m-mommy come lay in bed with me for a while?”

You stilled, your heart warming at her words. She’d never called you mom before and you’d never expected it in a million years. 

Joel felt your hands on his shoulders as he stuttered, “mommy?” 

Sarah nodded, looking up at you expectantly. “You’re going to be my mommy now, right? I…I overheard you and uncle Tommy talking about it the other day daddy.” Her eyes drifted down to Joel’s and back up again, a pout forming on her mouth. “Can you come lay with me and tell me one of those stories? I really like it when you tell me stories before bed.”

“Of course, honey. Why don’t you go get settled and I’ll be right there, okay?” 

Sarah nodded, giving her dad one last hug before she made her way back down the hallway and into her room. 

You leaned down on Joel’s shoulders then, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Mommy, huh?” 

“I, uh…” Joel was glad you couldn’t see his face, red creeping up his neck and into his cheeks and ears. He hadn’t bought a ring yet, had barely started thinking about it when Tommy mentioned the idea a few weeks previous. How Sarah heard the conversation, he had no idea. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered against his skin. “Your secret is safe with me. Why don’t I go and get Sarah back to sleep and then you and I can continue what we started in the shower, hm?”

“Sure, darling, whatever you say.” He could feel your smile on his neck, your lips brushing against his ear. 

“I love you, pretty boy.”

“And I love you, sweet pea.”

[burning-academia-if]

For the promt ask, 6, 20 and/or 27 with rook??? 🥺

Went with Rook + Coming Home!

“Ready to head out?” Rook leaned against your doorframe, taking stock of what little you had packed and the vague listlessness about you. Regardless of your feelings before, you’d gotten used to being away from home. Rook knew that well, could see it in  the new found ease of your shoulders and smiles that were just a little less rare. Despite everything, you’d managed to breath, away from the house you’d grown up in.

            “…Yeah. You?” You slung a backpack over your shoulder and take the handle of your suitcase.

            Rook nodded once, biting his inner cheek, “Everything I need is in the car. Thank god we live in town, yeah?’

            You were too distracted to respond right away. Granted, you usually weren’t much of a talker, but it felt especially pronounced today. Rook’s fingers tapped against the wood, waiting to see if you’d respond or not. You didn’t.

            He went on, “You should stop by my place real quick. If you want. Dad’s been asking about you.”

            The last time you’d seen his dad had been back in Senior year, probably. It had not stopped the man from asking Rook about you despite this. The suggestion finally dragged you out of your stupor and you blinked at him.

            “Is that ok?”

            “More like is that ok with you? He’s going to ask, like, a billion questions about how you’ve been and everything.” And, honestly, Rook could tell you weren’t quite ready to go back home. And, honestly, he was feeling off kilter about heading back as well. Even though his house was down the road, Rook had spent most of the semester pretending it hadn’t existed. He did that every semester. He probably fumbled his homecoming every time.

            If he dragged you along, then the two of you could fumble it together.

            As if reading his thoughts, you narrowed your eyes and he responded with a grin, “I don’t see the harm in a quick visit.”

            “Great! I’ll let him know.” He pulled out his phone, and paused as he scrolled down to his dad. The last text was from a few weeks ago. It never felt that long. “I’ll meet you there—just follow me.”

            “Ok.” You followed him out, and the two of you fought your way through the mass of students all heading out for winter break. Rook shouted goodbyes to the familiar faces he spotted as he went, and you kept your eyes towards the ground. The grip you had on your backpack strap was airtight.

            At some point, the two of you had managed to make it down to the parking lot and head out. The drive was maybe ten minutes, but to him it was like he blinked and he was there. The house loomed over him, and he squinted up at it as he parked in the driveway. The windows were open downstairs, though Rook couldn’t see any movement inside.

            He got out, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk, watching as you pulled in a moment later. Your movements were slow as you got out of the car, eyeing the house. When you caught his stare, he raised his eyebrows.

            “You’re looking at this place like it’s haunted.”

            You frown a little, “Are you really sure it’s fine.”

            He rolled his eyes, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you my dad hates you for all the trouble you’ve gotten into, like how you set off a nuclear explosion in the next state over—”

            If looks could kill, yours might have. At the very least, your listlessness was gone and replacing it was a renewed energy, “I get it.”

            “Listen, dad has always liked you. It’s fine.” It’s fine. He breathes through his nose, and wonders if his own trepidation will ever leave him. He knows why he’s anxious every time he has to walk through those doors, but he still can’t admit it. But it’s fine. Really. You’re here this time, and your own nervous eyes making him feel better about his own nerves.

            You trailed behind him, wandering gaze taking everything in. It all looked the same as ever to him. He shoved open the door, heat rushing out to greet him. He hadn’t even realized how cold it’d been.

            “Dad?” Rook called, stepping inside. You followed a beat after, closing the door behind you.

            His dad popped his head out, peering towards you both from the kitchen area. His smile was instant, a beam of bright light, “Rook, welcome home! And MC, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

            He strode over, engulfing Rook in a hug before he had a chance to protest. As he ruffled his hair, Rook scowled, “Hey, quit it—”

            Rook smacked his hand away, but his dad had already moved on, throwing his arms around you in a hug as well. Your eyes went wide in panic, darting over to him, and Rook only smirked.

            “Uh, hi Mr. Bellerose—”

            “That’s so formal. Just call me Harvey.” His dad motioned vaguely towards the house. “Come in, don’t mind me.”

            You hesitated briefly, and Rook said, “I’m going to put my stuff in my room real quick.”

            He gave a smile of innocence at your look and ducked away. His father started polite conversation immediately, and he had to stop himself from laughing. Your stilted words became quiet as he made it to the second floor and to his room.

            Everything was the same. His dad might have had a few more greys then before and when he opened his room there was a fine layer of dust on everything, but it was the same. He threw his suitcase to the side and let himself collapse on the bed for a moment. Rubbed his face. Stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten.

            You wouldn’t appreciate him leaving you for so long. It didn’t stop him from taking an extra ten seconds, wondering if everyone felt this way when they came back to a place after so long.

            When he finally managed to bring himself back down, his dad had you seated at the counter, a glass of water at hand and a steady stream of conversation going on with great effort. You glanced up, a plea of help in your eyes. Rook could only take pity on you.

            “So how have things been?” Rook asked, slipping into the barstool next to you.

            “Work’s been the same as ever. How were your finals?”

            “They happened. Anyways—” It was easy, when they slipped into conversation with each other. The unfamiliarity was cleared away, and even your shoulders started to relax as old memories and habits came back to you.

            His body finally remembered it was safe. His dad’s eyes were as kind as ever, “It’s nice to see you two are still friends.”

            Rook blinked, “Yeah? Obviously.”

            A flash of sadness moved through his expression, but it was too quick for him to read, “I’ve never gotten to say this to you, but I’ve always been glad you became friends with my son.”

            “O-oh, um…” You shifted in your seat, breaking eye contact.

            “Dad!”

            “It’s true. Rook always seemed most at ease when he mentioned you—”

            Your eyebrows shot up and Rook knew he was going to get it later, “Obviously, they’re my best friend and we’ve known each other for years.

            “Yeah,” you nodded your agreement, mercifully, but you were still eyeing him and his dad was smiling again and he suddenly felt very warm in a way he wasn’t sure he liked. But yet, it wasn’t bad.

            As the conversation turned again, and his dad started to get distracted with other things, you nudged his foot with yours and when he looked, he found you smiling the first time that day. It was teasing, and mouthed the words his dad had said before and Rook rolled his eyes.

            And not for the first time, he thought of this. How coming home had always included you, and how maybe he could ease your own tension if he stayed by your side. If you became part of his childhood home, or if he could ward you from the horrors of your own.

            If he could always come back to you, or bottle the warmth of a house with you in it forever.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Family Nerves–Steve Harrington

Requested by KingJax2

People in Indiana can be incredibly judgmental. They'll pick on you for the car you drive, your grades in school, what you do on the weekend, and your parents.

That last one is why I eat lunch alone in the woods across from our school. When I was three years old, I was adopted by a wonderful couple. This isn't why I eat lunch alone. The real reason is that I was adopted by two wonderful men.

Inclusion hasn't really made it to Indiana yet. Every once in a while, the bullying would get too much. At first, the hatred was aimed at my dads. But when I got to middle school, the hatred turned to me. Ever since then, we've started constantly moving from town to town. The summer before my senior year, my dads and I moved to Hawkins.

It was the same in Hawkins as everywhere else we've lived. People aren't blatantly rude. Just your basic stares and whispers. Kids at school have been told by their parents to stay away from me.

Everyone has stuck with it. Well, almost everyone. Everyone except Steve Harrington.

On the first day of chemistry, we were paired up as lab partners. It started off with me doing most of the work. Then it turned to innocent flirting. Steve was the only one at school who didn't treat me like I was a freak because of my dads. Then again, he didn't know.

"So, Y/N, I was thinking," Steve said as I finished mixing the chemicals for our assignment, "are you busy this weekend?"

"Just some chores I need to do for my. . . parents."

"Want any help?"

"No," I said a little too quickly. "You don't need to do that."

I cleared my throat and went back to reading the instructions. I could feel his eyes on me but I tried to ignore it.

"Well, we could do something after," Steve continued. "There's this great burger place that just opened up. We could go get dinner and then maybe hit that new comedy movie that came out last weekend."

"Wait," I said under my breath as I looked back up at him. "Are you. . . Like a date?"

"Yeah," he shrugged with the smile that had every girl in school swooning. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to make words come out of it. I wanted nothing more than to go on a date with Steve. Suddenly, I thought about the moment Steve came to pick me up. What would he do when he found out I was raised by two dads? Would he be rude like everyone else? Would I lose the only friend I had?

"I can't," I stuttered. I quickly added, "This weekend. But maybe next weekend?"

Steve smiled at me, making my heart do flips. "Next weekend sounds great."

                                * * * * *

"I'm excited about our date this weekend," Steve chuckled a week later.

My stomach dropped. I guess I didn't hide it well because Steve instantly saw it. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

"I just. . . I forgot. . . My grandparents are coming into town," I stuttered to find an excuse. "I'm so sorry, Steve. My parents reminded me about it this morning. I can't believe I forgot. I am so so so sorry."

"It's okay," he smiled. "We'll just do it next weekend."

"I'm really sorry, Steve," I sighed, the guilt building up. He let out a soft chuckle as he grabbed my hand. I held my breath as he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"See you next weekend, Y/N."

As he walked to class, my stomach sank. I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to ignore the guilt rising up. It's been killing me lying to Steve but I wasn't ready to tell him the truth. He was the only one in all of Indiana who isn't rude to me. I couldn't lose him.

I spent the entire weekend in my room going over my lies. At school on Monday, I was barely able to look at him without being swallowed by guilt. Eventually, it was hard to look at him.

"You okay?" He whispered during our chemistry notes.

"Yeah," I whispered back.

"Talk to me, Y/N," Steve pleaded.

"We're not supposed to be talking during notes, Steve."

I heard him sigh before going back to taking notes. Throughout the rest of class, Steve continually glanced at me. He kept trying to get my attention but I acted like I was too focused on the notes. The second the bell rang, I darted for the door.

I wish I could say I got better and more mature. But I didn't. I continued to only have small talk with him all week. Friday came around and I wasn't sure if I could face him anymore. So I didn't.

I left the art room right as the bell rang. I let out a sigh of relief as I unlocked my locker. I switched out my books, humming the new song we learned in choir yesterday.

"I can't take it anymore."

I jumped at the sudden appearance of Steve. He stood by my locker, nervously adjusting his backpack.

"What?" I asked, my breath getting caught in my throat.

"I can take you pushing off our date," he sighed. "I can take you not talking to me during Chem notes. What I can't take is you avoiding me, Y/N."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Really?" Steve smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. "You missed chemistry this morning. You never miss chemistry."

"I had to help my dad with something this morning," I lied and Steve knew it.

"Y/N," he said under his breath, "please tell me what I did to make you avoid me. I've been racking my brain the last few days, trying to figure out why you would keep pushing back our date. But now, skipping class to avoid me?"

"Steve. . ."

"I'm going crazy," he whispered, taking a step towards me. "Please, Y/N, what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," I said under my breath. "It's not because of you."

"Then what is it?" Steve gently pushed.

"It's. . . Well. . . It's hard to explain but. . . The thing is. . ."

"Y/N?"

"There's something about me that is most likely going to change what you think of me because it's something you don't know that everybody else in this town knows and hate me because of."

"Do you not like me?" Steve asked when I still wasn't making sense. "Is that why you've avoided me and pushed back our date several times? You don't actually like me and you felt bad so you said yes."

"That's not true," I said quickly. "It has nothing to do with you, Steve. It's just. . . There's something I need to tell you about my parents."

"What are you talking about?" He asked softly.

"My parents."

"What about them?"

"My parents are. . . I was raised by. . . I was adopted."

"Y/N," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, "I already knew you were adopted."

"It's not just that. It's. . ."

"They're strict?" He asked. "Or secretly road clowns? Please just tell me what's going on, Y/N."

"They're gay," I blurted out. "I was adopted and raised by two men."

I held my breath as I waited for his response. My mind raced with every possible outcome. He could laugh. He could be grossed out. He could get angry. He could walk away. He could stop talking to me altogether.

"That's what you were so nervous to tell me?" Steve asked sweetly. "Y/N, I don't care if they're gay or straight. All I need to know is that they're the couple who raised the girl I'm crazy about."

"Wait," I gasped, ignoring the 'crazy about' statement. "It doesn't bother you that I was raised by two men?"

Steve grabbed my hands and pulled me closer. I couldn't help but hold my breath.

"No," he whispered, "it doesn't bother me. In fact, I'd love to meet your dads."

"You want to meet them?"

"Of course," Steve chuckled. "I want to meet the men who brought you to me. How about tomorrow?"

"I think they're free," I stuttered, looking down at my feet. Steve put his finger under my chin and made me look up at him.

"Great," he smiled. "I'll call you later tonight."

                                * * * * *

I fixed my dress, my stomach in complete knots. I checked my hair for the tenth time since I did it.

"Maybe I should've straightened my hair," I mumbled.

"Absolutely not," my dad, Eric said. I turned around to see him standing in the doorway. "We love your hair curly."

"How's our beautiful girl doing?" My other dad, Oliver asked as he joined us.

"I'm really nervous," I sighed, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I've never been this nervous before."

"This is the first guy you've ever brought home," Eric tried to say gently.

"Steve's the first guy that's ever been interested in me," I said under my breath. "And the first person who hasn't been rude and judgmental of me."

Oliver sat next to me and instantly grabbed my hand. "Sweetie, I have to ask; does he know?"

"Olly," Eric sighed. "Our daughter is not ashamed of us."

"Of course I'm not," I said quickly. "I was nervous to tell him at first but when I finally did, he was so open and understanding. It didn't bother him."

"That's great," Eric smiled.

"He's the only one who found out and didn't immediately change how he saw me or talked to me," I said, tears building. "I've been rejected by so many different people. But when Steve found out. . . He smiled. Then he said he wanted to meet you guys."

"Then what's wrong, princess?" Oliver asked softly.

"I don't know," I stuttered. "I just. . . I'm scared. What if this doesn't work out? I'd lose the only person in this town who's nice to me."

"Or," Eric elongated, "he could make you happy and feel like the most amazing girl in the world."

My heart jumped into my throat when the doorbell rang.

"He's here," Oliver smiled.

"You ready for this, princess?"

I looked between my dads, my stomach in knots. Both of them grabbed one of my hands and helped me stand up.

"It's going to be okay, princess," Eric whispered. "We'll be right here the whole time."

We walked downstairs, unable to stop my nerves from making me want to vomit. My dads waited at the bottom of the stairs as I went and opened the door. My breath got caught in my throat and my face burned when I saw Steve standing there.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hey you," he smiled. I bit my lip when Steve handed me flowers. "These are for you."

"Thank you," I said under my breath as I took the flowers from him. I looked over my shoulder to see my dads smiling at us. "Umm. . . Steve, these are my dads, Eric and Oliver."

"It's wonderful to meet you both," Steve smiled as he walked in. He held his hand out and shook Eric's hand before shaking Oliver's.

"It's wonderful to meet you too," Eric smiled.

"It's wonderful to meet the one person in Hawkins who hasn't judged our daughter for our choices," Oliver added. "Thank you for being so welcoming to our daughter, Steve. We haven't always had that."

"You shouldn't be judged either," Steve said simply. "I'm sorry about how you guys have been treated. It isn't fair."

"Thank you for saying that," Oliver said. I looked between my fathers, both of them smiling at Steve.

"Well," Eric said with a small laugh, "dinner is almost ready. Let's head into the kitchen."

Eric and Oliver walked to the kitchen but Steve and I hung back. I looked at the flowers, my heart pounding against my chest.

"How did you know?" I whispered.

"Know what?" Steve chuckled.

"That orchids are my favorite flower."

Steve smiled as he grabbed my hand, slowly pulling me closer. "You told me one day in chemistry when we were doing experiments on rose petals. I accidentally admitted that I liked roses and got all embarrassed. You smiled and said that you thought it was sweet that I had a favorite flower. You then told me that you loved orchids."

"And you remember that?" I asked.

"Of course I remember that," Steve smiled as he pulled me closer. "It was the moment that I realized that you were different. In a good way. You didn't judge me for the things that most people would. That was the moment that I first started to fall for you."

"Fall for me?" I stuttered.

"Fall for you," he repeated as he leaned in. I held my breath as our lips got inches apart.

"You two coming or what?"

Part 2

[charlieslowartsies]

the reason why my August vacation is so important...

This is a long, kinda emotional for me journal <3

As I mentioned a while ago, I was splitting my usual two weeks in June of debauchery (sleeping & laying in the sun & hiking in the woods outback lol) into one week last month and then saved the last week for the end of August.

I also wanted to explain the significance of this trip! Less about having to justify my time off and more about 'eeee excite omg!' and wanted to share with y'all!

SO a long time ago when I was a wee Charlie, from age 0 up to 21, I was incredibly close to my grandparents on my mom's side. My nana died when I was 15, and while that took a huge toll on me, I was fortunate enough to have my grandpa till 21. These two people were absolutely second parents. My parents did a good enough job raising me, but they had huge fights and my father had anger issues and it caused a lot of wounds. These were the people I could always rely on, when I couldn't rely on my folks.

They lived 2 hours away on a wonderful lake in a lil tiny trailer over looking it. I spent weeks at a time there, even the occasional month. I learned to swim in that lake, which in hindsight prolly wasn't the safest idea due to its depth, and grew up to be obsessed with swimming. Learned how to sail, ski, fish. Learned how to bake, tend a garden, how a fresh bowl of fruit in the morning should be before breakfast.

We'd swim 3x a day, sometimes just to float and cool down before bed, since there was no a/c and the summer nights were hot. Laid on our backs and counted stars like the Lion King. Fried trout on the grill after we'd caught them, had watermelon seed spittin' contests. My grandpa grew pumpkins and carved my name into one, so that the writing grew bigger and bigger over the months. I had one pumpkin live from September to April.

My handprint is on the last cement step leading down to the beach. It was eroded when we scattered my grandpa's ashes in 2014, but I remember where it was, how to place my palm to compare.

I guess I'd say I had a mixed childhood of various great, good, bad, and horrible things. Like most people, yanno? But those golden summer days on the lake were 100% a part of who I am today, and where my many of my happiest memories come from.

Due to me being in college, cost to heat the place in winter when they had no intention of living there, my family sold the property on the lake to an investor who planned to rent it out.

This was 2014. The same year he died, the same year my horse died (within 2 months of each other) and one of my father's many health issues landed him in the hospital from Oct to Dec, so that he spent xmas on an iv stand. With everything going on, we had no time or money for a big dinner, or presents that year.

I guess that was the first year I realized childhood was truly and officially over, and it was time to grow up. Many of us have that marked moment on our life.

Time passed. I finished college, went back home after turning down a few out of state jobs to spend time with my dad, who I had a feeling didn't have much time left. Turned out I was right, as I came home in 2015 and he died in 2022. There was an accident in '16 where he almost bled to death on our kitchen floor, but I was able to provide pressure/medical care and give him some more years.

Shortly after we moved in 17, I was notified that the house on the lake had been rented to someone who unfortunately had a lot of issues mental health wise, and they had eventually abandoned the property. It sat, rotting, and got so covered on the inside in black mold the county leveled the place and destroyed it.

We had left it fully furnished due to the buyer's urging. Ancient, stunning mid century and older furniture from my great-great grandparents time. My nana's organ player. The rocker my mom and I sat in. And, frankly, to quote one of those popular songs, the house that built me was just gone.

I figured that was the end of it, and cried and got angry/sad and then moved on and just tried surviving as covid hit later on in the years.

Turns out, the man who rented it decided that wasn't going to happen again. He put a new trailer on the property, and rented it out for vacationing due to it's location. We didn't know this until I stumbled across it while daydreaming about a vacation on the lake that I missed it was a relative, one I could at least go back to for a few days. My heart skipped so many beats when I saw the address and paused, thinking there had to be come mistake. It wasn't.

Not only can I spend time on that property again (in a new house which honestly might be for the best) But turns out, for whatever reason, they kept the furniture separate and placed a few pieces into the new house. There's a photo of the rocker in the layout photos. The two level lamp they had is still intact and functioning. I booked the place for a week immediately.

It's expensive for me, but my girlfriend and I will make it work. (Certainly not like we have far to travel.) We're going to be there smack dab in the middle of my Grandfather's birthday. I haven't had a true, just-for-me vacation since 2015 when we went to a camping ground. The excitement I have for this is immeasurable.

The dock my Dad and Grandpa put in themselves is fixed up. The crumbled little cement step is still there with a tiny indent, where my 4 yr old hand was pressed. I am going back to this place, and going back in time for just a short while, to heal and have fun and be a whole mess of emotions. I never got to say good bye to my Nana or Grandpa.

But I can say goodbye to them now, and say 'hello again, old friend' to the lake, and the new little house that sits before it.

That is why i am so excited about august. I know I don't share personal things on here a ton, but I wanted to share this. Thank you for reading this far if you have, I appreciate it.

I hope you have a wonderful day and remember how important you are <3 And as always stay hydrated! -Charlie

[roohuh]

Labor and Grief

Part 27 of year seven in Obliviate

Ominis X MC

Summary: Ominis works out his frustrations on the house he bought for you

Warnings: grief

Ominis left Hogwarts the day the body was found. No longer able to roam the halls which feel so empty without her, he retreated to the property he bought for them to live in together. Spending his days working on fixing the house, Ominis numbly toiled away. No one was allowed on the property save Sebastian who once a week would bring his friend a basket of food baked by Anne, and check up on Ominis. Carefully he put the house exactly how you had planned it out together. Sebastian brought your vivariums and beasts from Hogwarts for Ominis to dutiful care for. Most evenings when Ominis was too tired to work any longer he would lay with his back against Highwing sleeping fitfully, his dreams plagued with your screams as the poachers again and again killed the love of his life. When he woke with a start the kind hippogriff would nuzzle the boy until he was calmed back to sleep. Over the two months he spent this way Ominis had grown muscular and lean letting his hair grow long and wild. Choosing to repair the house manually instead of using magic he found the labor helped keep his mind occupied. He could not bear the thought of attending your funeral when Sebastian had come to convince him to go, arguing Ominis needed closure. Instead the two boys buried the small black ring box Ominis had intended on giving you. As Ominis permitted himself to weep one final time. As an apology for his absence he sent your parents a bouquet of flowers he picked from the last of the summer's wild flowers blooming all around the property. Ominis had attached a letter to the flowers asking them to come visit in the spring once all of the restorations were finished.

Sebastian did not knock as he entered the house for his weekly check in on Ominis, marveling at all he had done. As he set a bag of mail, food, and other items he had collected for Ominis on a large oak table he whistled in appreciation.

“This place looks great Ominis. You are just about ready for the first snow.” Only grunting in response Ominis did not stop carving the wordebe he was working on. Sebastian wandered over admiring the craftsmanship.

“Ya’ know for a blind guy you make beautiful furniture.”

“Thank you.” Ominis shrugs not stopping his work.

“Anne was hoping next weekend you would join me in going to visit her.” Sebastian gently urges his friend. Ominis shakes his head stubbornly.

“Give Anne my thanks for the food.”

“You know, I was thinking maybe Anne could move here with you. She is so lonely in Fildcroft and you are out here alone. It could be good for both of you. It would save me a trip too.” Sebastian pushed.

“I am sorry for being a burden. You do not need to come anymore; I can see to myself.”

“Thats not what I meant and you know it, This sulking around is a disgrace to her memory!” Sebastian shoots.

“But that's just it! It’s only a memory of her because she is gone!”digging too deeply into the cabinet with his chisel Ominis curses himself,

“Damn it!” Ominis tosses the tools aside, feeling the place he scored the wood.

“All I am saying is it would break her heart to see you like this. Just think about it.” Sebastian says before walking out the door. As soon as Sebastian had left Ominis felt a pang of remorse for the harsh way he had acted. The thought of Anne all alone through the winter in that small cottage weighed on his conscious as he lifted the loaf of bread she had made him out of the bag. Ominis sighed inwardly acknowledging his own lonely state. He missed having someone to talk to, but the thought of sharing this house with anyone but MC was painful for him. Tossing the bag of letters to the floor Ominis decided the next time Sebastian came he would ask for Anne to come stay with him. Returning to his project Ominis continues about his day unaware of the letter at the bottom of the bag with a plain simple “Ominis” on the front of the envelope in your handwriting.

[revnah1406]

🌸 Tell me about your OC(s) - with pictures if you want !Pick some facts you want to share about them & let us gush about them together! Then send to other creators to do the same ✨

Sparrow and Amara? If you already answered. Is it ok if I get the link? Want to know about these two!

Hiii my dear!! 🥰🥰🧡

YEEEY let's do it!! If it's ok with you I'm gonna answer for Sparrow, Amara and Abby 🧡🧡

Abby:

Abby is based on Abby Anderson and Ellie Williams (Ellie is her face claim, but she has Abby's nose) from The Last of Us. Two of my favourite characters! They are so complex and an incredible source of inspiration!

(this is not Cannon, it's from a Roleplay that maybe we turn into a fic or something 👁️👁️) Abby is from 2030 but she accidentally time traveled to 1981. Aleks (@alypink) and Mila (@efingart) try to help her get back to her time. IT'S FULL OF DRAMA, I live for that RP I hope we can bring something soon hahaha!

Abby is a really nervous kid. Always has to have her hands occupied playing with things. She has an old lighter and she's always playing with it (Like a good Black Ops Introduction yeaah🕯️). And she also has a butterfly knife, she's still learning how to use it but she's getting better every time.

Abby plays the classic guitar, whenever she can. It's like her comfort hobby. Her mother taught her how to play it, and the sound of the instrument always brings her home. She almost feels like her mother is with her when she plays.

When she was a kid she found a picture of her grandfather Mason talking with a Woman. She didn't recognise that woman, Woods never talked about her, and when she asked Frank avoided the question, like that woman wasn't important or relevant, but she could see a storm of emotions in those old eyes, emotions too complicated for a 13 year old. "Just a long story Kid." But Abby was still curious, even after all those years Abby still wonders who that woman is. Spoiler: That Woman was Mila (@efingart) 🫢 Here's the comic!!👀

Abby has green eyes as a reference of Mason from Black ops 1, (in black ops 2 and cold war he has brown eyes)

Abby has one of Woods tattoos, to honour his memory. Maybe I'll add more (not from Woods)

Sparrow:

Sparrow's closest friends are Alyssa Martinez (@alypink) and Damien Whitlock (@kaitaiga) but before Damien, there was Daniel Greenhill. The three of them met in a rescue mission in Russia, they spent several weeks together and they forged an amazing friendship.

After her accident in K2, Sparrow didn't want to see anyone. Not even her family or friends. She thought her cuts and wounds would scare them, also she's always in a terrible mood when it comes to recovery. But Aly kicked the door of her house and stayed with her during all her healing process, physical and emotional. Daniel joined not long after, when He got news that Sparrow was out of the Hospital he took a plane and went to help her too. As a medic Daniel helped her a lot with the stitches, pills, and recovery. Always scolding her for doing something that she shouldn't do in her state. Like working out, or going to work as a mechanic in her garage. Daniel and Aly saved Sparrow in so many aspects and she'll always be in debt with them.

The way she met Damien is a little bit curious. The 2CO did an emergency stop at the Armed Swiss forces HQ. As soon as Daniel found out that Sparrow was there he rushed to see her. Of course his inseparable friend Damien followed him, curious to know about this "Sparrow" that Daniel talks about sometimes. They didn't get along in the beginning, forced to go to a mission together but in the end they found out that they have more things in common and a great friendship started. After all, after Daniel's death they only had each other as comfort. Aly and Sparrow had to help Damien to get through that pain, no matter how much it hurts for the two of them too.

Sparrow HATES Shadow Company, after all that happened in Las Almas and the betrayal, she can't stand Graves. She never liked him, not even when they were allies. So you can imagine her reaction when she had to work with Shadow Company again in MW3. She was willing to rip out Grave's guts as soon as she saw him. But out of love and respect to Anna (@applbottmjeens), she didn't do it. She took it very personal when she found out what he did to her Gremlin. But she respected Anna's decision and managed to tolerate Graves, just enough to not kill him at first sight. So yeah, her friendship with your oc Squirrel would take time, but I'm sure they'll be good friends in the end heheheh.

Sparrow has a dog. A female Argentine doggo. That Aly (@alypink) rescued it from illegal dog fights. When Alyssa saw her she immediately knew that Sparrow would love her. And she did! As soon as she saw that dog, she took it home with her. Her name is Tora, she has scars like Sparrow, and she's also missing an eye from the dog fights.

Now, about her relationship with Amara, I don't want to give a lot of details, because I'm working on the next chapter of her love story. But what I can say is that Sparrow fell hard, really hard. She wasn't the kind of woman who falls in love so easily. She was more of enjoying a one night stand. It had been so long since her last serious relationship that in the beginning she didn't know what to really do. "Well I have a girlfriend.... Now What?"

But soon she found out what she was capable of doing for Amara. Literally everything. All she wanted to do is make her happy.

Amara:

Amara hates the military and everything related to it. Her father was a S.A.S soldier, and he wasn't a very present father in her life, even though he loved her with all her heart. And after all those years, and a well deserved retirement, he got killed by S.A.S soldiers, when he was heavily injured in a terrorist attack, because for the soldiers it was better to end his life quickly than extend his suffering. All of that in front of a really young Amara who was begging for his father's life.

So yeah, she has strong opinions on the military. But life had other plans for her and brought Sparrow to her life hahaha!

Amara had a toxic relationship before Sparrow, so it took her time to get used to being treated like the Queen she deserves to be. Having mixed feelings, trying to understand why Sparrow was so nice and good for her without wanting anything in return.

Amara is a stripper, her job is not a secret. She started because she needed the money, but in the end she enjoyed it, she loved to dance. But when she started her relationship with she got a little bit insecure about Sparrow's opinion on her job. Obviously Sparrow didn't mind, it was a job after all, and she was her supportive girlfriend #1.

Amara has an old black Sphynx Cat called Kuro. It was her mother's cat and when she passed away, Amara adopted him, and he has followed her in every step of her life.

I love Amara's fashion style. It's so different from mine! I swear this woman always takes my breath (and Sparrow's) away. (She's team all black hahaha)

I like to say that Amara is a little bit like a witch. She knows how to read tarot cards, how to clean a house with Lignum Vitae... So every time Sparrow has to go on a mission, she secretly shuffles the tarot cards, and checks how the mission will go. If the cards aren't good, she usually gives a protective stone like white quartz to Sparrow. Sparrow always listens to her even though she doesn't really understand how it works.

"Keep this close to you all the time."

"I like this one. What's it for love?"

"just... Keep it close to you"

AAAND THAT ALL! Omg it's so long hahahaha! Anyway thank you for the ask! I have so many facts about my ocs hahaha, I hope it wasn't too boring. Anyway! Thank you again!

MWAH 🧡🧡

[wqterlillypdfs]

with you this christmas (s.h)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader summary: steve doesn't love the holiday season, but for you he'll sacrifice whatever - and turns out, you just end up making it all the better word count: 1k trigger warnings: none i think a/n: this is inspired by a cute little dream i had last night, and i just really wanted to write it down. also, @thatfangirl42, i'm sorry dream me stole your man! take this as a present from me to you to make up for it 🥰 i'm also super out of practice and i kinda hate this, so i'm really sorry it's not that great

Steve had never liked Christmas; he was used to ignoring the cheerful holiday music and the dazzling lights that adorned practically every street in his neighbourhood. All those decorations had never meant anything to him, not when his parents had done little more than stuff some overpriced presents beneath an even more overpriced tree.

He had always tried to enjoy it. He had tried baking the cookies, and stuffing the stockings. He’d attended every Christmas party his friends had invited him to, but by the end he’d just feel absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t see the point in celebrating something that meant so little to him.

But that was until he met you.

You approached Christmas with an entirely different energy. You basically buzzed with festive spirit. You adored the lights, the elaborate decorations, the delicate ornaments and all of the home-cooked meals. Sure, Steve had heard you mention Christmas offhandedly throughout the year, he hadn’t expected you to approach it with such fervour. 

And while Steve wasn’t sure that he’d be able to fulfil all your Christmas wishes to the fullest, he promised himself he’d try for you. 

———

Your living room was filled with the scent of fresh-baked gingerbread and cinnamon. The slow crackling of the fireplace and the smell of burning wood felt just like home. This was the first Christmas you’d be spending away from your parents, but also your first proper Christmas with Steve. The past week had been nothing short of busy, you had spent an entire day decorating just the Christas tree alone which Steve had kindly helped you lug up your apartment stairs, and then had got to work baking an assortment of Christmas cookies, which again, Steve had generously helped you do.

So far, everything had been going perfectly, but as the week had continued you realised your dilemma. It had been about four days until Christmas and you still hadn’t gotten your boyfriend a gift. You wanted this Christmas to be absolutely-nothing-less-than perfect for him, and while you’d consider yourself a top-notch gift giver, you think you’d finally met your match. You were well aware that Steve wasn’t fond of this time of year, and you were grateful of how much effort he’d put into making this perfect for you, so of course you were determined to do the same for him.

After much back and forth and consulting with both Robin and Nancy, you think you’ve finally found the perfect present.

But right now, this current moment was perfect. It was Christmas day, and after a peacefully slow morning that you had spent with your boyfriend,the two of you were enjoying each other’s presence. You sat curled up on your sofa, Steve’s head resting in your lap as you ran one hand through his soft hair. His eyes were closed peacefully, lips turned in a sweet lazy smile. It took everything in you not to kiss his face right there. 

“Stevie,” you mumbled, your hand brushing over his cheek ever so lightly. He hummed in response, eyes still closed. “I have one more thing for you.”

He turns his face so his eyes meet yours in a quizzical look, before he pushes himself off your lap and positions himself properly on the sofa next to you - one leg hanging off the edge with his body turned to face yours. “You didn’t need to do that-”

“I wanted to!” you insist before he could protest any further, you pulled out a bag from underneath the sofa, watching as his pretty smile got even wider. You adored it when he smiled like that, he looked just like a little puppy. Finally, you pulled out the present, the gift was wrapped in a glittery Christmas paper with Steve’s name printed carefully on top.

“For you,” you say, as you hand the gift over to him.

He takes it tenderly from your hands before pressing a smiley kiss to your lips, “you’re too sweet.” The compliment makes you blush.

You hoped and prayed that the gift would be good enough, but little did you know Steve would’ve been content if you had given him socks or a lump of coal. Carefully, he works to undo the gift wrapping, treating the present like porcelain. You didn’t think it was possible, but his face lights up even more when he sees the gift underneath.

The other gifts you had gotten Steve this Christmas were all just little novelties, things you’d known he liked but they weren’t memorable enough. You wanted to give Steve a gift that he would cherish for a very long time.

“Is this what I think it is-?” He asks excitedly, as he undid the final bit of wrapping paper, revealing the specially made gift underneath. His thumb brushes over the mixtape you had made for him of both of your favourite songs. You had titled it “Steve + Y/n’s mix!” with cute little shiny hearts and star stickers decorating the edges.

“Do you like it?” You asked quickly.

“I more than like it, sweetheart,” he said, eyes reflecting the glow of your warm fireplace, “I love it.”

You grinned widely, “I just really wanted this Christmas to be perfect for you,” you told him, “and I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing all this on you, I know you’ve never been fond of all this Christmas-y stuff-”

But even before you could finish your sentence, Steve pulled you into a kiss, his lips firmly pressed against yours, all so sweet and filled with love.

“I may not have always loved Christmas,” Steve starts, pulling his lips away from yours, “but I do love you, and this Christmas has been nothing short of amazing.”

His arms wrap around your waist as you bury your face in his neck to hide your blush that has definitely gone three shades darker.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper into his ear.

His smile is sweet as he parrots your words. "Merry Christmas," he says back, and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he really means it.

---

tagging: n/a

[ctoan11]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers :)

1. My family, both immediate and extended. My husband and son are also fandom-y, but each in our own ways and we have things we geek out about together and separately. My sister and I are close and spend a week each year at our cottage.

And in a few weeks, it will be our 52nd annual family golf tournament and reunion. My dad and his brothers/brothers-in-law started it and it’s grown and evolved over the years. I have 18 cousins and most of our kids are now young adults and starting to form families of their own and most come every year. We also get together a lot at other times in various configurations and being with them all makes me happy.

2. Being a Girl Guide leader. I was a member as a youth and also thought about becoming a leader but didn’t actually do it until my son started Brownies. He stopped after Guides but I stayed and just got my 25-year membership pin last year.

I’ve made lots of good friends through Guiding and I love coming up with fun ideas and watching the Guides grow and gain confidence in themselves.

3. Hiking with friends. I love getting into the woods and having great chats and conversations and seeing different kinds of flora and fauna. We have a trip planned next weekend in a part of the province I haven’t been to where there are 5 trails we want to do (and we’ll earn some pretty crests, always a bonus). We’ve booked a dome to sleep in and it should be lots of fun!

4. Music, both making and listening. I played piano when I was younger and then recently taught myself to play ukulele. I like singing along. I love musicals and live theatre and I love listening to music. Last year I made a playlist where I added one song a day, either related to what was happening in my life or based on prompts. I discovered some new artists and it was great fun picking something that would fit.

5. Learning makes me happy, which ties back to being a Guide Leader and teaching myself music. I also taught myself how to crochet. If I’m watching a sport (like tennis!), I want to know all the rules and how things work. My son and I have spent evenings on Wikipedia, on various topics like animal taxonomy or music genres. I like being smart and knowing things.

That was hard! I’m not good at thinking about myself but each thing I came up with felt good and right.

[kaeru-kobold]

Kaeru Kobold-Dear Tumblr #1

I finally decided what I'm going to do with this Tumblr Account! Aside from the typical reposts of my art, self-promotion and such, I'm going to use it primarily as a live, public diary of my adventure in Vtubing, streaming and content creation, so here goes my very first entry. I think I'm going to try to do this daily, at the very least I'll make one weekly and on big events.

Dear Tumblr,

it's currently 1:22 AM, 12/11/23. I've been interested in becoming a Vtuber for roughly a year now, and have slowly done tons of research, watched hours of Vtuber content for fun and advice, built up art and assets, came up with a new Sona design, customized models, and have spent hours upon hours of work making art and assets related to that goal. Boy they really don't tell you how much work it is to be a streamer/content creator, especially when you're broke and doing it all by yourself. Speaking of broke... I'm currently out of work, money is very low, and I'm very stressed out. I made the mistake of leaving my old job for a new one that I hoped would be a good opportunity, but I had to leave on day one for moral and public health reasons I won't get into. I have put in dozens of applications the last two weeks and have mainly only received automated emails; I have done 2 Zoom interviews for two different jobs, and then was never given a call or email back. My old job won't take me back for reasons beyond me. I admitted this in an OkayDonuts stream a day or so ago, and he said similar issues motivated him to start streaming. This gives me so much hope that I can have the great community and career success that he has that I so desire-If he could do it, so can I! Right? I just really like making stuff, I've always liked learning new techniques both physical and digital; crochet, clay sculpting, wood carving, painting, graphic design, 3D modelling/Texturing, game design. I wasn't good at much as a kid, but art was my passion, and the best part was seeing how happy it made other people. I just want to make cool things that make people happy and create a community of similarly creative people to share our passions and bring more kindness and cool creations into the world. I don't want to be an uber rich Mr. Beast level celebrity, I just want to make enough that I don't need a menial job I suffer at. Simply making a decent living in this world off my art would be a blessing, it would be so much better for my mental health. Speaking of which, if you're reading this....did you know I take commissions? Please commission me, I hungy :'( But seriously, as of writing this, I have $43.20 in my bank account. My phone bill alone is $45. My partner and I have family support, so we'll get by ok, but the struggle and having to ask for help is really getting to me. On the bright side, since we should count our blessings- I have a really nice microphone since my partner tried streaming a couple years ago and is letting me use it whenever I need! I have a really good laptop from my college days that can run everything I need without getting TOO overwhelmed. I have a really good drawing tablet that I bought a couple years ago when I was doing a little better financially (It's much easier to save money when you're living with your parents and work 40 hours a week for $13/hr and your parents pay for everything) Losing my job may be a blessing in disguise because In my stress I have gone into a manic state and began going crazy getting my custom stream Overlays done, fully animated Stream Opening, BRB and Closing Screens, stinger transition animation, a functioning PNGTuber, and multiple drawings/animations for alerts/emotes/rewards/etc. and yes that includes things I didn't know I needed to be a Twitch Affiliate to even use...lol...I'm currently working on an animated lore video for my debut that I will also record a voice-over for. Lastly, a more recent thing-My partner found a gamer chair in the dumpster at our apartment last week after I had spent a couple months trying to find one-the cheapest ones on Facebook Marketplace in our area were like $80-and it's in near perfect condition, only a bit of scuff/rip on the seat and arm rests. How crazy is that? I gave it a good scrub-down and its good to go. I choose to take that as a sign from the universe that I'm on the right path. Wish me luck! With lots of love, Kaeru Kobold

[corbeau-exe]

Wrote a story based off of the Arepo story if y'all know it

The temple made for the god wasn't really a temple at all. The man who made it was a poor farmer, only having some rocks and wood at his disposal. He made a temple without knowing what kind of god would move in. But he knew that a god would show up, and something is better than nothing.

"I hope you're some kind of harvest god. The farm hasn't been doing too well after all," he mentioned while putting down an egg and a bit of old wheat. "I know that this offering isn't great. Might even look pitiful to you. But it's what I've got. I'll do what I can to make sure you don't regret moving into this little temple of mine."

Over the next few days, the farmer left some fruit, a piece of bread, some more wheat, and a tiny bit of butter. No matter the size of his offering, he spent a few minutes to pray to his new god. After a week passed, the god spoke to him.

"The temples in the city are nicer. Better gods than I live there. They could help you out." The god sighed, plucking leaves off of a bush and ripping them up as it spoke. "I don't mean to insult you, this is a nice temple. It's cozy. The worship has been nice too. But it won't bring you anything of use."

"Well, this is better than nothing," the farmer replied. "What kind of god are you, anyway?"

"I'm the flowers picked for loved ones," it said. "I am the laughter from the other room. The hug of one not seen in years. I am the longing of a friendship fizzled out. The rock skipped across a river. The creased spine of a well-read book. The worn noses on a statue. I come from the purr of a cat, and the wag of a dog's tail. I am the first plants appearing from the frost. The crack of a musicians voice. I represent a thousand little happenings. Things that happen without purpose."

The god sighed once more. "Do not waste your time on a god of foolish things like me. Use what you have on a more important god. War, Storm, or some of the others. They can affect your lively hood. Pray to them, and you might just get something out of it. You waste your worship on me."

The farmer knelt down to straighten the rocks that formed the small temple and shrine he had built. "That's quite alright. I like this just fine, and will continue on just as I have been."

"That's fine by me, but I did warn you. There is little I can do for you." The god retreated further into it's temple, and watched the farmer walk back to his field to begin his day's work.

For months this continued. The farmer would pray to the god each morning, leave a small offering, and then tend to his fields. The god watched in silent contemplation. But it did not last. Storm came, fast and hard. It's heavy rains flooded rivers and fields. The dark clouds blotted the sun for days. With Storm came Lightning, turning fruit trees to burnt husks of what they used to be. When they passed, the farmer and his family attempted to save what they could. They picked what fruit wasn't charred. Reaped the wheat that was still usable. It wasn't long after that when Earth grew angry, and sent tremors through the nation. The farmer's mill and part of his house crumbled under it's wrath, trapping his daughter in the rubble. She wasn't able to make it out in time.

"Useless," the god muttered while the farmer buried his daughter under the temple. "I could not save your fields nor your daughter. When Storm came through and Earth shook the world I could do nothing but watch in despair. I'm sorry that I am a useless god to you."

"Don't worry. I will mourn my daughter, of course, but there are others I must continue on for. We will rebuild and deal with things as they come," the farmer replied. "Things will be okay."

A year passed, and then another. The farmer made additions to the temple, repaired his mill and home, and tended to his fields. Children would leave flowers and fruit. Neighbors would look at it curiously, and then move on. But then Harvest withdrew its bounty. Trees bore no fruit and the fields only grew thin and brittle wheat. Clothes no longer fit as well, and the people went to bed hungry. Soon more gods got angry. They had not received the offerings they were accustomed to. They too withdrew their bounties.

The farmer approached the temple, his ribs showing. "There has not been much this year. There is nothing I can give to you today."

"What has my temple been but a burden to you? I have given you no protection from Storm, Earth, or Harvest. I could not help your daughter. I cannot even help you know. There is nothing here amongst these rocks that can help you."

"We have been hungry before, and we will be hungry again. This is nothing new for us, we have gotten through this before, and we will get through it again."

Years came and went, and the farmer grew older. Some days he would spend hours in silent thought with at the temple he built. The god continued to watch him as he went through the motions of his days, hoping to be of some use.

And then came War.

The farmer stumbled to the temple, covered in blood. His fields were ablaze. His house destroyed. His face was sooty and tear streaked.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Again there is nothing I could do for you or your family. All these years you have come to my temple to pray and given me offerings with nothing to show for it. I'm sorry that I was such a useless god to you."

"Oh hush," the farmer groaned. "Tell me once more, what kind of god are you?"

"I'm the flowers picked for loved ones," it said, holding back it's tears. "I am the laughter from the other room. The hug of one not seen in years. I am the longing of a friendship fizzled out. The rock skipped across a river. The creased spine of a well-read book. The worn noses on a statue. I come from the purr of a cat, and the wag of a dog's tail. I am the first plants appearing from the frost. The crack of a musicians voice. I represent a thousand little happenings. Things that happen without purpose."

"They were all wonderful. Thank you. Those little happenings are what life made worth living. Thank you," he said as he laid with the rocks of the temple, returning to his god.

[fireangelsstuff-inactive-2024]

Angels Dream Messages part 1

Throughout my life I have been given warnings and messages through dreams

The first time I've been forewarned about the death of a loved one I was still very young. To my immediate recollection without checking my dream diary notebooks currently stored in a different country I can recall off the top of my head at least two other times when the dreams were significantly clear enough to be identified as a warning

The first was my Great Uncle, he was the Patriarch of my Grandfather's family after their parents had passed. Much like my Grandfather spent his early years in the military in WW2 and the Korean and Pacific conflicts, and after exiting the military moving into a blue collar job for the majority of his life to provide for his wife and children after the loss of the family owned wood mill.

He was well respected by his friends and his community, seen as a leader by both his family and his peers, the type of guy that just somehow seemed immortal.

The dream about his impending death was the first one I consciously identified as prophetic as I not only interpreted the message, but could intuit its meaning instinctively; I was also only a child at the time around 8 or 9.

The dream itself was short and is a bit foggy some 30 years later, but it entailed walking with my family behind a sarcofagus being pushed along a stone road, at some point those of us still living had to stop following. We could only watch as the procession continued without us and from afar we saw him being taken into a Pyramid, with the sun setting behind it. He was going to a place we were unable to follow.

The second most significant one I can remember was about my cousin.

This one was a tad more straightforward.

It's dark and I'm in the water. Why am I in the water? There's something on top of me pushing me down. I can see a gap between the water and whatever it is over me as the water moves. I keep trying to gasp for air but water keeps getting in my mouth.

Something hits me in the head and my face goes under the water. I know I shouldn't be breathing in but I'm unconscious and I can't control it, the water it going to get in.

I can't understand why I'm in the water

A couple of days later, my cousin drowned in a boating accident out at sea where the craft designed to be launched aside a larger vessel had flipped over on top of him and pinned him underneath it due to a faulty piece of equipment

You can actually find the news of his death in the newspapers due to the fact it was an accidental death in the Naval while serving, which is very rare in our armed forces.

And then most recently was my grandmothers death

I actually posted that one here at the time it occurred, I didn't recognise what was happening at first because I was distracted by other things, but once my mother told me about my grandmothers fall that happened two weeks later I realised what was coming

Here is my post from the day of her funeral about a month after the dream

I know I won't be the only one out there to have experienced these types of things, but it hasn't always been doom and gloom

After the passing of my former partner I had a variety of messages and visitations, some happy, some sad, but thats for another post

[bellafarallones2]

Christmas OT4 (ish) for @thiswasinevitableid. I can hardly believe it's been another year of talking about Amnesty characters with you, but it's been a great one.

Normally Duck was worried whenever his cat got near the tree, because it was usually just a matter of time before she started knocking off ornaments. But tonight it wasn’t the ornaments she was interested in. Now she was just sitting next to the tree, staring out the sliding-glass door onto the balcony.

Duck always put his Christmas tree up in the corner of the living room next to his apartment’s small balcony, which had a string of white lights wrapped around the railing. He had the lights on the tree set on a timer, too, so when he came home after dark he could see them greeting him from inside his dark apartment. 

“What’re you looking at, huh?” Duck bent down to scratch behind Annie’s ears and then looked out himself. He couldn’t see much. There was the yellow glow of the streetlight in the parking lot, but the big tree that provided good views of birds and squirrels during the summer was pitch black. 

Except for a pair of glowing red lights. 

Duck blinked. 

The lights blinked back. 

Duck took a step forward, and the lights disappeared. The place where they’d been was indistinct darkness. 

“Well, fuck.” 

Annie made an annoyed-sounding mrow.

–

The next day at work Duck was preoccupied thinking about the red lights in the tree. The eyes in the tree, he would think, if he didn’t know that was ridiculous. 

He was manning the desk in the visitor’s center, where he basically made sure nobody tried to steal any of the displays, answered questions about maps, and occasionally sold someone something from the very small gift shop. 

Could the lights have been the tail lights of a car, reflected somehow? Yes. That must be it. 

“Duck?”

Duck blinked to attention and took in the man standing in front of him, pink-cheeked from the cold. 

“Is that what you’re still going by?”

“Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Duck stood up, excited, and then immediately looked around to see if there were any children in the vicinity or old people that he’d just scandalized. Joseph Stern laughed, looking handsome as he ever had in a black coat and steel-blue scarf. 

“Holy shit, Joe, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll laugh.” 

“...What is it, your honeymoon?” That was the most ironic thing Duck could think of, given their history. They’d been best friends in high school, sleepovers almost every week, through the rough times while they both discovered boys and then that they were boys, but drifted apart while Joseph had been studying for the SAT and Duck had been smoking weed in the woods. And then Joseph had come home from college for the summer, and they’d reconnected, and even though Joseph had always known and said as much that he was going to get out of this shitty little town, he hadn’t been too proud to admit that he’d always had a crush on Duck. They’d spent every moment they could of that summer together.

“No,” said Joseph instantly, and Duck caught his gaze going down to Duck’s left hand to check for a ring. There was none. “I’m single, actually. And I’m here looking for bigfoot.” He said that last part in a low voice.

“No shit.”

Joseph nodded. “There have been some credible reports recently from this area.”

“Really? I haven’t heard any.”

“I heard about them at work. None of my colleagues took them seriously, of course, but hey, I’m on vacation.” 

“Hey, good for you.” 

Joseph shrugged. “I’d rather have two weeks off for Rosh Hashanah than Christmas, but hey, I’ll take whatever break I get.”

“Sure thing.” Duck remembered what he’d been thinking about before Joseph appeared. “Hey, I don’t know if it was bigfoot, but I did see something weird last night.” 

Joseph leaned forward, and Duck explained the whole story. 

“Woah,” said Joseph. “And this was last night? At your apartment? Can I come over tonight and see?”

“My shift ain’t over until six, but after that, sure! I’d been planning to stop at Wendy’s for dinner on the way home, if you wanna join.”

Joseph’s eyes were sparkling. “You know you don’t have to tell me about a cryptid to get me to have dinner with you. I’ll see you at six.”

–

Winter was, generally speaking, Indrid’s least favorite time of year, but Christmas did have its merits. The eggnog, for one. The colored lights, blinking in the darkness. And over the years he’d learned a few ways to make the cold more bearable. 

That was why he’d shown up for dinner at Amnesty Lodge tonight, despite how awkward it was for everyone involved. The younger sylphs mostly didn’t know who he was except to know they should be polite to him, and Mama always seemed vaguely suspicious of him. 

Only Barclay seemed happy to see him. Barclay gave him a hug when he arrived and didn’t care that he was stiff and half-frozen underneath his frayed sweater. And after dinner Indrid took up a place in the kitchen, drying each dish as Barclay washed them. (It was an interesting exercise for his future vision, working out where each piece belonged.)

When the last dish was dry, as were Barclay’s dishwater-reddened hands, Barclay turned to face him and smiled. “Would you like to come to bed, little moth?” 

“Yes please,” said Indrid. 

Of all the ways to make the cold more bearable, Barclay was perhaps the most pleasant of all. 

Barclay hung up his apron and Indrid followed him down the hall. They could hear raised voices from the lobby at their back. “Goodnight, everyone!” Barclay called, and a chorus called goodnight back. 

Barclay’s room was small, which was nice because it was very warm. The overstuffed bookshelf made it seem both smaller and warmer. There was a quilt on the bed and a crocheted afghan folded at the foot. 

“Tell me what you want,” said Barclay, locking the door behind them. 

“Oh, it’s not so much what I want, as… I think we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”

Barclay’s eyebrow quirked. “I think so, too.”

“I’d like you to take your disguise off, if that’s alright.”

“Are you going to take yours off?” Barclay unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It was rather tight, and his undisguised form would have popped at least one button. Then he took off his pants, too. Indrid hadn’t really appreciated human bodies before he’d seen Barclay’s. Barclay had been how he dipped a toe in, so to speak, to being attracted to humans. 

“I don’t think I’d fit in your bed - I’d like to be in your bed. I don’t think I said that already.”

“I did ask if you’d like to come to bed, and you said yes, so I figured.” Barclay took off his bracelet and set it down on the bedside table. Instantly he grew half a foot and also a full coat of fluffy auburn fur. “C’mere. Bed time.”

“Bed time,” Indrid agreed, and joined Barclay underneath the covers, burrowing up against Barclay’s fluffy chest. Silvain, Barclay was warm. So warm that… Indrid sat up, pulled off his sweater, and then lay back down. Now, in just a tank top, he could feel Barclay’s fur against his bare arms and neck and face. He had to turn his head to the side to talk. “How would you feel about this encounter becoming sexual?” 

“I’m down. We’ll have to keep quiet.”

“You’ll have to keep quiet. My mouth will be otherwise occupied.” Holding his glasses to his face with one hand, Indrid shimmied his way down the bed until his head was between Barclay’s thighs, which was, if such a thing was possible, an even warmer and better place to be than in Barclay’s arms. 

Interspecies relationships were frowned on in Silvain, especially between sylphs as different as Indrid and Barclay were. Even though on Earth the rules were much looser (and even though now such relationships were becoming more accepted in Silvain, as the population decreased and the number of members of each species shrunk), for Indrid, no matter how many times he and Barclay did this, there was always a slight thrill from the taboo of going to bed with someone warm-blooded. 

He kissed each of Barclay’s thighs, mentally thanking them for being so warm and strong and nice to touch, and then kissed the head of Barclay’s cock. He held the shaft in one hand, the testicles in the other. Not rubbing or squeezing, just holding. Even soft it was a formidable thing, thick and uncut. (Indrid had been rather alarmed the first time he’d encountered a circumcised penis among humans.) 

“Fuuuuck, Indrid,” said Barclay. “I’ll - I’ll do you after, I promise.”

Indrid could feel Barclay getting hard. “You do such a good job taking care of people,” said Indrid quietly. “Just let me take care of you.” 

Indrid took the head back into his mouth, using his soft human tongue to caress the tiny opening at the tip. The foreskin slid back easily in his hand, exposing more sensitive flesh to tongue at. The sensitive spot just below the head. Visions of Barclay coming were already flooding his mind, and he salivated in anticipation. But they weren't there yet. 

Indrid pulled off enough to take a few deep breaths, a strand of spit connecting his mouth to Barclay. He stroked the shaft soothingly, gently, both because it was what he needed and what Barclay would like. 

“Indrid, Indrid,” Barclay almost-sobbed, hands gripping the bedspread. 

“You can hold my hair,” said Indrid before diving back down. The head of Barclay’s cock, fully hard now, reached his throat easily. Barclay’s claws felt divine against his scalp, fingers tangling in the silver strands of Indrid’s hair. Indrid’s eyes were half-lidded in the pleasure of the moment. Barclay’s hips were twitching with the effort of not fucking Indrid’s throat. 

As far as Indrid was concerned, this was the true meaning of Christmas, the lights in the darkness, something star-bright glowing now in his chest and belly. 

Barclay came so deep in Indrid’s throat he couldn’t even taste it. Then, clumsily, Barclay tugged him back up the bed. 

“Mmm, I didn’t think I’d be getting two desserts,” said Indrid. 

“Indrid,” said Barclay, and kissed him. 

Indrid often forgot about kissing, since it didn’t work so well with his natural mouth, but this mouth was very good for it, or maybe just Barclay was very good at it. 

Either way. He kissed back joyfully, and his own human cock made its presence known against Barclay’s hand. 

He’d only really given himself a cock to begin with out of a sense of completionism, only later discovering the pleasure it could bring him. An eager little beast, it was, whenever Indrid remembered its existence, demanding warmth and friction and release. 

“I don’t want a blowjob,” said Indrid. “Because I don’t want you to stop hugging me.”

“Mmm, alright, if you insist,” said Barclay, and pressed a wet kiss to Indrid’s neck that made him squirm happily. One strong arm was wrapped around Indrid’s back, keeping him close, while the other fumbled with Indrid’s jeans. “Sensitive little thing.”

“I’m not,” Indrid insisted, even as he could feel his orgasm about to crash over him. “I just, I just get ahead of myself.” 

“I’ll say. Are you even going to let me get your pants off or are you going to make a mess of yourself?”

“The odds aren’t good,” Indrid managed to say. In the end he made it halfway. 

–

The eyes weren’t there when Joseph and Duck got back to Duck’s apartment, though Annie, Duck’s magnificent gray Maine coon, was sitting on her cat tree looking at the window like she was on patrol for them. 

“Shit,” says Duck. “I’m sorry.”

“Most people only see a cryptid once,” Joseph pointed out. “Actually most people never see a cryptid at all, but of those who do most only see one once.” 

“The thing is that Annie’s been looking out that window every night for a week, so I figure it’s been out there, even before I saw it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I would happily have come here just to see you.” Also, Joseph believed Duck more than he would have believed most other people. 

And it was that, combined with his innate sense of curiosity, that made him take a detour to the living room when he got up from Duck’s bed in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Annie was sitting there next to the tree, staring out the window, tail swishing across the floor. Joseph stood next to her and looked into the darkness. 

A pair of red eyes looked back. 

“Holy shit,” said Joseph quietly. He fumbled with the white plastic latch to the door to the balcony, strategically using his leg to keep Annie inside, and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. The air was freezing but he could hardly feel it. The eyes were still there. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out a hulking shape perched on a thick branch near the trunk of the tree growing near the balcony. 

“Holy shit,” Joseph said again, leaning out over the railing to get as close as he could, straining for any detail his eyes could make out. 

Huge wings spread soundlessly. Joseph stumbled backwards on instinct as the creature took flight, two wingbeats carrying it effortlessly towards the balcony. It alit on the railing, looking even taller than it was. 

“Hello, Joseph Stern,” the mothman said. 

“Hello,” Joseph whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. “I have so many-” 

“Questions for you. Yes. I’m here because I like looking at the lights.” One clawed hand gestured to the white lights on the railing and the colored ones on the tree inside. 

“What?”

“You were going to ask me what I’m doing here. I like to sit in the tree to look at the lights.”

“Incredible! You can-”

“See the future. Yes, but futures, plural, would be more accurate. There are many.”

The door slid open again. Duck was standing there, carrying Annie in his arms. “Joe? What are you doing out - oh.”

“Hello, Duck Newton,” said the mothman. 

“He can see the future!” said Joseph to Duck. 

“Can we have this conversation inside?” said Duck. 

The mothman nodded. Duck stepped back inside, and Joseph followed, and the mothman closed the door carefully behind all three of them. 

“Have you really been here every day this week?” said Duck. He let Annie down to the floor, and she cautiously went up to the mothman, who offered one of his four hands for her to sniff.

“Yes,” said the mothman. “I like to look at your lights. Is that alright? I assumed you wouldn’t put them so near the window if you didn’t want them to be looked at.” 

“No, no, that’s fine,” said Duck.

“Mr. Mothman, it’s an honor really, I’m in Kepler looking for bigfoot, I never thought I’d see you -”

“I know him,” the mothman interrupted. “Bigfoot.”

“...Can you introduce me?”

The mothman was quiet. Then he opened his mouth, and looked over at Duck. 

Duck had been studying him closely the whole time. “Do you look like this all the time?” said Duck finally.

“Ah,” said the mothman. “No. I can disguise myself as a human.” 

“I don’t suppose you happen to go by the name Indrid Cold?”

“That is the name my parents gave me,” the mothman - Indrid - said indignantly. “I go by it because it is my name.” He seemed to deflate a little. “I… there were very few futures where you recognized me.”

“Really? You’re quite memorable”

“Wait,” said Joseph. “You two know each other?”

“I have visited the national forest and spoken with Duck in his capacity as a park ranger,” said Indrid. 

“That’s all it’s been?” Duck teased.

“No,” said Indrid, tapping his claws together. “I… I like you. But I thought I shouldn’t say so in front of your lover.”

Duck and Joseph exchanged a glance. “We ain’t exclusive,” said Duck. “I mean, I hadn’t seen Joe for years before tonight.” 

“Can I see your human disguise?” asked Joseph. 

“Yes, one moment,” said Indrid. He went out again and flapped into the tree, and then for a moment he disappeared and Joseph was afraid he’d never see him again. But then Indrid appeared again, holding a pair of sunglasses with round red lenses. 

“The fuckin’ glasses,” said Duck softly. “I’d wondered why he never took ‘em off.”

Indrid closed the balcony door behind him. The instant the bridge of the glasses connected with his nose, he wasn’t there anymore. Instead there was a tall, slim man in jeans and a thick sweater patterned with little reindeer. 

Indrid did jazz hands. “Ta-da!” 

“It really is you,” said Duck. 

“It’s me,” Indrid agreed. “I, ah, as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t normally show myself to people.” As a human it was much easier to read his body language, see how he curled into himself. “But tonight I wanted to be seen.” 

“We see you,” said Joseph.

“You want a hug?” Duck opened his arms and Indrid folded himself into them. And then Indrid reached out a hand to Joseph, and the three of them were hugging. 

Despite himself, despite this being quite possibly the most exciting moment of his life so far, Joseph yawned. 

“We should really be gettin’ back to bed,” said Duck. 

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be on my way-” Indrid said, and pulled away until Duck’s grip on his hand stopped him. Indrid looked up, surprised. 

“Or you could join us? For sleeping? I got a nice big bed.”

“He does,” said Joseph.

“Truly?” said Indrid. “Duck, I, I’ve been trying to court you. Like a human would. I’m just not very good at it. And if I’d known you, Joseph, I would have tried to court you too, but I didn’t until tonight.”

“Then let us court you by taking you to bed.” 

Indrid allowed Duck to lead him by the hand to the bedroom. 

–

Cuddling twice in one night was an unheard-of-luxury for Indrid, let alone with three different people. Though he never mistook dreams for reality, he was still a little surprised when he woke up the next morning in Duck Newton’s bed, with the smell of coffee in his nostrils and Joseph still in bed beside him. 

“Good morning,” Indrid said softly.

“Good morning,” said Joseph. 

Indrid could tell that Joseph was looking at his lips. And there were futures of Joseph kissing him. 

Luckily Indrid had had recent practice with kissing. “If you’d like to kiss me, you should.” 

Joseph leaned forward and kissed him. 

“Does my true form excite you or do you just find my disguise handsome?” said Indrid. 

Joseph blushed slightly but didn’t get a chance to answer before Duck appeared in the doorway. “I’m about to make eggs for myself,” said Duck. “If you want me to make some for you too, now is the chance.” 

“Yes, please,” said Joseph, and all but leapt out of bed. Indrid followed them back to the kitchen. 

“Coffee’s in the pot and mugs in that cabinet over there,” said Duck as he cracked eggs into a bowl. 

“Thank you,” murmured Joseph, and poured himself a mug of coffee. Then he turned back to Indrid, who’d used his future vision to take the seat at the kitchen table least likely to be occupied by either Duck or Joseph. “Can you really introduce me to bigfoot?” 

“Yes, I can ask if he’d like to meet you - oh. Ah. It seems you already know him.”

“What? Oh, of course, he can disguise himself, too… who do I know who’s secretly bigfoot?” Joseph turned to Duck. 

“Don’t look at me,” said Duck. “If I was bigfoot you’d know about it by now.” 

Joseph looked back to Indrid. “I promise my motives for wanting to meet bigfoot are normal.”

“Normal?” said Indrid. 

“I don’t want to hurt him. Or you. I don’t need to take pictures. And it isn’t a sex thing.”

“Oh?”

“I just… I want to satisfy my personal curiosity.”

Duck hid his smile behind his mug of coffee. 

“If bigfoot wanted to have sex with me I wouldn’t say no!” 

“I’ll ask,” said Indrid.

[msbarrows]

Thinking of some of the random things my grandma taught me (mostly by example). I don’t follow all of them, of course, some just aren’t applicable, but:

store your matches in an airtight tin, so if they spontaneously combust they’ll also put themselves out (which stood me in good stead back when I kept wooden matches on hand for lighting candles)

moisturize every night before bed

how to make toast with a toasting fork in a wood stove

to pronounce creek as crick, and wash with an extra vowel or two - waosh or waoush

keep boxes and findings and notions from clothing you’re discarding and rubber bands and string and pins and safety pins and and and... they might be useful some day! (Yes she lived through the Great Depression - hoarding was just something you naturally did, for a lot of people of her generation.)

hang on to the Sunday Funnies, the kids (and eventually grandkids) will enjoy re-reading them (see also: why I was familiar with things like the earlier years of Li’l Abner despite being born only about a decade before the end of its run) - she had a couple big brown paper grocery bags full of nothing but the funny pages

be self-sufficient - grandpa was a park ranger half the year and a fur trapper the other half, she spent most of her life looking after herself while he was elsewhere

to be old gracefully and gratefully - gracefully because you accept that aging is a thing that happens to everyone and don’t fight it, and gratefully because you don’t know which day will be your last (she outlived two of her three children, her husband, plus so many siblings, cousins, friends, etc.)

take long walks regularly - their farm was a mile out of town, she used to walk in several times a week to visit friends and attend church, right up until grandpa had a stroke and the two of needed to be moved to a retirement home

one she never knew she taught me: you can still be in great shape physically, yet be completely lost in time mentally. And it’s sad for everyone who does remember.