#when it's the winter i wear one of my dark red sweaters

[im-tempted]

I love those things where it's like 'what would you dress like in a cartoon'

Every day I wake up and put on one of my pairs of identical brown pants and a cream button up (SOMETIMES BLACK) and pretend I look different

[the-oblivious-writer]

Oh the Guilt

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: no

Warning(s): major character death and mourning/grief

Notes: Based off of this request: hey! i saw your requests are open (i am indeed busting). i was wondering if you’d do some angst with either sam or tara? maybe sam/tara spending the holidays alone because they falsely accused reader of being gf and pushed them away/broke up w them. but it only ended up putting r in danger and leading to their death? love me some good ol angst if you’re up for it! have a great holiday season :)

The Christmas lights blur through her tears as Sam clutches your photo to her chest, fingers trembling against the worn edges. Her apartment feels too quiet, too empty, the silence broken only by the distant sound of people celebrating that makes everything worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam stares at your sweater draped over her couch - the soft blue one you always wore when it got cold, the one that still holds traces of your perfume. She doesn't deserve its comfort, but she pulls it on anyway, drowning in fabric and guilt and memory.

"We’re specimens to you, aren’t we?" Sam's voice had cracked like breaking glass, fear masquerading as anger. "I’m not letting Tara get hurt again!"

You'd reached for her, confusion and hurt painting your features. "Sam, please. You know me. I would never-"

"I thought I knew Richie too," she'd snarled, backing away from your touch. "Get out. Get out!”

The door had slammed with such finality. She'd thought she was protecting herself, protecting everyone. Instead, she'd handed you to them gift-wrapped - alone, vulnerable, perfect prey.

By the time Sam realized her mistake, she was cradling your broken body in the rain, red seeping into puddles around you both. Your fingers had weakly brushed her cheek, still trying to comfort her even then.

"Not your fault," you'd whispered, but those words haunt her worse than any ghostface ever could.

Now Tara brings food she doesn't eat, Kirby tries to coax her out, but Sam remains suspended in amber, preserved in the moment she lost you. Your clothes hang in her closet like ghosts. She wears your sweaters to sleep, buries her face in the fabric and pretends she can still feel your warmth.

The Christmas tree in the corner - the one you'd insisted on buying together - stands half-decorated, just as you'd left it. Tinsel dangles like broken promises. The star you'd picked out remains in its box, because finishing it without you feels like accepting you're gone.

Sam traces the words of your last text message: "I love you. We'll talk soon." Her phone screen has cracked from how many times she's dropped it, hands shaking too hard to hold on.

She knows she should let others in. Knows you'd want her to live, to heal, to forgive herself. But every time Tara hugs her or Kirby offers support, it feels like betraying your memory. Like she doesn't deserve comfort after what she did to you.

Sometimes, in the depths of night when the walls feel like they're closing in, Sam swears she can feel you. A whisper of movement in her peripheral vision, the ghost of your touch against her shoulder, the way the air shifts as if accommodating your presence.

"I see you everywhere," she whispers into the darkness, clutching your sweater like a lifeline. "The coffee mug you chipped is still in the cabinet. Your stupid action movies are still in my queue. I can't… I can't delete them."

The apartment creaks, settling into winter's grip, and Sam lets out a broken laugh. "Remember how you used to say these old buildings had character? God, you'd make up stories about the noises - ghosts having dance parties, you said." Her voice catches. "Is that what you're doing now? Dancing without me?"

Sam reaches out, fingers trembling in the empty air where she imagines you might be. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was so scared of losing everyone that I pushed away the one person who…" She chokes on the words. "The one person who never gave me a reason to doubt them."

The Christmas lights flicker, and for a moment, Sam's heart stops. She's learned to find meaning in these small disturbances, these tiny rebellions against reality. "I know what you'd say. That I need to forgive myself. That I need to let people in." Tears track down her cheeks. "But how can I? How can I when every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding out in my arms?"

Something shifts in the room - maybe the heating kicking in, maybe something more. The tinsel on the half-decorated tree sways gently. Sam watches it, transfixed. "If you're here… I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have trusted you. Should have protected you. Should have been there when…"

The star for the tree - your star - sits in its box on the coffee table. As Sam watches through tears, a draft from somewhere catches the lid, lifting it slightly. Her breath hitches.

"You want me to finish it, don't you? The tree?" Her laugh is wet, broken. "Always so stubborn about traditions." She reaches for the star with shaking hands. "I don't know if I can. It feels like accepting you're really…"

The room grows impossibly still, as if the very air is holding its breath. Sam could swear she feels the phantom pressure of your hand over hers, guiding her toward the tree. The sensation is so vivid she gasps.

"Okay," she whispers, standing on unsteady legs. "Okay, baby. For you." She clutches the star to her chest, your sweater hanging loose on her frame. "But I'm not ready to let you go. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

As she reaches up to place the star, the Christmas lights seem to glow a little brighter, and for just a moment, Sam swears she can feel your arms around her waist, your chin on her shoulder, just like before. Just like always.

"Stay with me?" she asks the empty room, knowing the answer, dreading the silence. "Even if I don't deserve it?"

The lights flicker once, twice - like a heartbeat, like a promise - and Sam breaks down sobbing, sliding to the floor beneath your half-finished tree, beneath your star, beneath the weight of a love that even death couldn't quite end.

———

A/N: first request filled, ob-la-di (sorry if this sucks, I’m half-asleep)

[corkinavoid]

The Tip Of The Iceberg · Owl City

Grumpy x sunshine

Winter wonderland

DPxDC Love at Frost Sight

Jason's favorite season of the year was fall. Early fall, to be exact, when the trees become red and golden, and the air smells of pumpkin spice because of all the coffeeshops simultaneously deciding it's the time to bring it back once again, and it's not yet cold enough to wear a coat, but just cool enough to put on a comfy sweater.

On the other hand, his least favorite season was winter. All of it, starting from late November and ending in early April. His bones ached in the cold that no coat could manage to keep out, the roads were always slippery, no matter how much salt was thrown over them, and he despised the amounts of hot tea he had to drink to keep himself from freezing to death.

Not to mention the lack of sunlight, the vitamins he had to take daily, the shiver that ran down his body when he stepped out of the shower and-

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, people are going to start thinking I've brought you here under the threat of a gun."

Jason blinks and tears his gaze away from the dimly lit, snowy scenery of Robinson Park and looks to Jazz, who is walking just beside him, a steaming cup of coffee in her fingers. She looks beautiful, even wearing a puffy purple jacket that makes her look like an off-color penguin and a knitted hat that hides all her red hair.

Jason huffs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows manually.

"You still hadn't told me why are we taking a walk in the park instead of doing literally anything else," he reminds her, and Jazz smiles, holding her chin higher.

"I have my reasons," she tells, her voice full of mischief. Jason rolls his eyes and hides his freezing palms deeper in his pockets. "We're almost there, don't roll your eyes at me," Jasmine shorts a short laugh and pokes him in the side.

Almost where, he wants to ask, because he is pretty sure she can't show him anything he hasn't seen before in here. He is a Gothamite, after all, and she just moved here two years ago, and Robinson Park couldn't have changed that much since his whole dying and coming back act.

But then, Jazz finishes her coffee in a few large gulps, tossing the empty cup into the nearest bin, and takes his elbow, all but dragging him forward, off the path and into the who knows where.

Jason stumbles over his feet but catches himself quickly enough to not faceplant the snow. Yet, that doesn't help in the slightest with figuring out where they are going because, well, it's half-past-six, which means it's already rather dark around them even with all of the street lights, and Jazz can be really fast when she wants to, and-

"Here," his impossible girlfriend suddenly stops, so abruptly like she's just ran into a wall. Jason, despite all his vigilante training, is not capable of canceling the laws of inertia on command, so he takes a few more steps forward to slow down.

"And what exactly is here?" He shakes his head, trying very hard not to snap, because he is cold, and he doesn't like surprises, and Jazz can be frustrating more than she likes to admit. But, before she can answer, and before Jason is able to put all that winter irritation into words, there's a snap.

Jason turns his head sharply, looking for the source of it just out of habit.

And halts, feeling his eyes go wide and his head completely empty.

The lights appear one by one, a slow, charming process of illuminating the small clearing they've run into. Warm and fuzzy, like tiny stars, or maybe fairy lights, but with no strings to hold them, they light up the trees and the sparkling, untouched snow under their feet. Jason blinks. The sight that he's grown to associate only with those decorative glass balls full of fake snow doesn't shatter.

And, to be fair, Jason knew winter could be beautiful - he's seen countless pictures and movies, and he understood the appeal it had on some people. But he's never really felt it, what with winters in Gotham, even at Christmas Eve, being more glum and gray than sparkling white and twinkling pretty.

But this is exactly that.

The tall trees covered in white snow, the gentle fall of snowflakes over them, the bright yellow lights that surround them.

"Close your mouth, love, you'll catch a cold," he hears Jazz say with a fond, soft laugh, and only then he realizes he is gaping.

His mouth closes back with a snap as he turns to face his girlfriend.

"How did you..." he trails off, not even sure what he's asking. How did she bring a fairytale into life? How did she find this place? How did she manage to bring him here?..

Jazz's teal eyes hold the reflections of countless warm lights around them, and she is grinning from ear to ear, her hand finding Jason's to intertwine their fingers.

"Danny helped," she admits, "But I just wanted you to see it. See why I love winter - not just because my brother is a living icicle, but because winter is magic, in a sense. It's only in winter that you can feel what's really warm and what's not."

Jason has half of a thought to ask her what she means, but he gets it just a moment before the words fall out of his mouth.

Because this, standing in the silent snowfall among the tiny lights of miniature stars, holding Jazz's hand in his, is warm. Not in a literal sense - his skin is still moments away from freezing - but something inside his chest feels like a tiny, flickering flame.

And that flame makes him smile.

"It's very pretty," he says, not taking his eyes off Jazz, and watches her cheeks become pink.

Somehow, he is certain it's not because of the cold.

~•~•~•~

This was written to not one but two Owl City songs. The first one was, as requested, 'The Tip of The Iceberg', and the second was 'Peppermint Winter', my all-time favorite winter song.

And here's the additional aesthetic!

Danny, who is responsible for the gently falling snowflakes and keeping the lights from going out, sitting invisible in a tree above them: what great lengths do I go for you, Jazz, you better get me something nice for Christmas or I swear to Ancients-

[thequeenofcurses]

Birthday Wishes, Cursed Kisses (f!Reader x Sukuna)

Summary: Sukuna takes you out for your birthday (sfw)

wk: 1300

(re-uploading this so I can organize it properly)

A/N Sorry I meant for this to be a short drabble, but I got carried away. It’s my first real jjk story post on here! I wrote this for @yuujispinkhair, who is someone that is super inspiring to me and her stories make me s happy. Happy Birthday to her!

Part 2 (nsfw)

10:45 pm

You checked your phone and sighed. Why did I even bother staying up this late on a Monday, you thought to yourself. Tomorrow’s just another day anyways.

You turn on one of your favorite romance audiobooks and set your phone to sleep mode.

11:59 pm

buzz buzz The vibration from your phone made you open your eyes, but exhaustion won the fight and you shut them close again. 

8:15 am

“Wake up, woman,” came a deep, sultry voice from your doorway. “Eat these while they’re fresh”.

“Huh?” you croak out, throat still dry from barely waking up. Your boyfriend Sukuna stood nearly as tall as your bedroom doorframe. “Did you warm me up leftovers or something?”

“Tch,” he rolled his eyes and walked into your room, sitting atop your bed. “You really thought I would give you leftovers, today?”

“Well, it’s just Tuesday,” you responded nonchalantly while stretching. Your hair was messy, you're missing one sock, and you even had some drool on your cheek; yet Sukuna stared at you like you were the Mona Lisa.

“Hmph,” he scoffed. “Woman, it’s your birthday. So you’re going to eat one of these cupcakes, shower, then get ready to have the best damn birthday ever.” You blink back surprised that he remembered, but butterflies fill your stomach nonetheless. You’ve only been dating the town’s local bad boy, Sukuna, for a few weeks. 

You nod and take the red velvet with dark chocolate cupcake into your hands, the confetti wrapping still warm. The aroma from the dessert filled your nose as you leaned down to take a bite. “Mhmm,” you softly moan to yourself. “This is delicious. Thank you”

“I texted you last night,” Sukuna waves off your thanks. “I wanted… to be the first person to tell you.”

As you finished the last bite of the world’s best cupcake, you gasped. You haven’t checked your phone since last night.

11:59pm, yesterday

Sukuna sent you a chat!

It’s your day, isn’t it? Don’t get used to all this attention. But since I’m feeling generous, I might grace you with my presence later. Happy birthday, brat.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his message. Speechless, you rose from your spot on the bed and jumped into his strong, warm arms. “Oh? Can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he said with a smirk. “Guess I can’t blame you.”

“Thank you, Kuna. The cupcake was delicious.” You blushed, realizing you were still unkempt.  “I’ll go get ready now.” You walked to your bathroom and hopped into the shower.

“Wear something warm!” he shouted from the other side of the door. “You’re not getting my jacket if you get cold.”

You are dressed in a black sweater dress with dark maroon leggings, and black winter uggs. Your makeup was very natural looking, yet accentuated all of your best features. You topped the look with a golden bracelet that had an ‘S’ inside of a heart. Sukuna gave it to you when you two made your relationship official. When you come out of the bathroom, you find Sukuna sitting on your couch.

“Wow,” he said while standing up to meet you. Tch. Who are you trying to impress looking like that? “Not bad. Try not to let all this attention go to your head though.” Sukuna smirked before reaching down into his pocket. “One more thing.” He pulled out a black box, but before he could open it, it slipped out of his hand. “Shit,” he muttered. He bent down on one knee to grab it.

“Oh. Sukuna… I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you blushed sheepishly. 

“Huh?” Sukuna frowns, not immediately understanding what you mean. Oh “I’m not proposing woman. It slipped from my hands.”

You blushed once again, feeling even more awkward about the misunderstanding. “Trust me, when I propose, it’ll be very lavish and grand. I can promise you that. Here, turn around.” Sukuna opens the black box, pulling out an alluring gold necklace. The pendant was in the shape of the ‘N’N’ type symbol tattooed on Sukuna’s forehead. It was littered with diamonds and it had a red ruby in the middle. He gently pushes your hair out of the way, before placing the necklace onto you and locking it into place. “There. You look perfect. Mine” He whispered the last word in your ear.

You looked in the mirror before you left, loving the necklace. In fact, you kept touching it all day long to make sure it was there. First you two go see a movie, Red One, in a theater that was way too cold. Damn, I should’ve brought a coat. I thought this sweater would’ve been enough.

Next, you two go ice skating. Sukuna being perfect at everything he does, skated around on the ice flawlessly. You stumble and slip a few times, but Sukuna is always there to catch you. “Tch. Can’t even stay on your feet? What am I going to do with you?" he said with a shit-eating smirk. You clung to him during most of your session, but he never complained.

After your ice skating date, he takes you to get dinner, then your favorite ice cream shop. Two gingerbread scoops for you and one strawberry scoop for him. You two sit outside by the fireplace, eating your individual ice cream cones before the fire suddenly goes out.

“Shit,” you muttered, starting to shake from the cold. “I thought this sweater would be enough to keep me warm.”

"I told you to dress warm, didn’t I woman?” Sukuna scoffed, taking off his coat and draping it around you. “But no, you just had to be stubborn." You two quickly finish your ice cream and then head back to your apartment. 

The sky was a hue of oranges and a hint of pink, like his hair, as the sun was setting on your drive back home. Sukuna walked you up to your apartment door.

Your hand subconsciously returned to your neck, fiddling with the new necklace. “Thank you for the gift, Sukuna,” you said trying to hide your smile. “I didn’t expect today to be as great as it was, and it was only a great day because of you.”

“Tch. Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I only got it because I felt like it." Sukuna shook his head in denial. “Besides, I can’t take all the credit.” He walked closer to you, nearly pressing you up against your apartment door. “Your parents made one hell of a daughter.” 

Your heart fluttered at the compliment. You wanted to thank him again, but couldn’t find the right words, so you kissed him. The kiss was like snow meeting the sun. It was freezing cold outside, but his lips and his body is what kept you warm. It was passionate, yet demanding all the same.

“I hope you had a good birthday,” he said after breaking the kiss. He started to walk away before pointing at the necklace "Just don’t lose it, alright? It’s yours."

A/N I meant for this to be a short drabble my bad T....T I wanted to write a spicy scene after they got back to her apartment, but this was already getting too long. Idk if yuujispinkhair or anyone would even want to read that. Anyway, happy birthday to her and anyone else born during winter!

Part 2 (nsfw)

banner: @cafekitsune

[bitter-hibiscus]

what are some of your favorite robin jason headcanons

ARGH DONT GET ME STARTED---

Commissioner Gordon isn't allowed to smoke around Robin!Jason. He WILL make puppydog eyes the entire night to try and get commish to give him one

He's the only Robin who's allowed the aud in the Batmobile because he shares Bruce's music taste

Since his room in the manor is Dick's old one, he found Dick's old Flying Graysons poster and taped it above his bed. He uses it as motivation for Robin because if Dick can still be good despite the tragedy of the Graysons then he can too

Selina is his favorite "family" member because she took him to Wildcat's boxing ring the first time they went out together AND she's the only one in that buys him batburgers

He only cooks for himself, because cooking for Bruce makes him think of Catherine's last years :)

He has a huge scar from his lip to his left eye from where Willis' wedding ring caught on his skin once

His favorite book is The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

He spends his first two months in the manor sleeping in the closet instead of the bed

His shower in the Batcave has a bird print on the curtain (when he comes back as Red Hood, it's changed to a fox print)

Jason loves anything chocolate and hates anything strawberry EXCEPT for shortcake. Alfred makes brownies very often

Jason took a knife from the kitchen the day he moved into the manor and hid it under his pillow. Bruce knows but never asked him to give it back. Jason puts it back in the kitchen on the 3 month mark

Jason never has any money despite his allowance being hundreds of dollars because he just leaves them in his childhood friends (Max, Numbers, etc) bedrooms every time

Eddie comes over once every 2-ish months and the first time he's there and Dick comes over Dick is CONVINCED Bruce got another one. Jason runs with it and almost convinces Alfred that Eddie is his new brother

Jason has a winter version of the Robin uniform and the cape has 1) a hood and 2) fur lining. He has to replace it often because he gives it to homeless kids as a blanket more often than not. Bruce is glad to buy him new ones

If he goes to Crime Alley as a civilian, every single crook will ask him if he's "Willis' boy" because when he was still alive, Willis couldn't go more than 10 minutes without telling his coworkers about his little prince

Jason uses a leave-on conditioner for his curls that Dick recommended him. It smells like oranges, and becomes the scent that Bruce associates with him

His favorite piece of clothing is a dark red sweater with two yellow stripes that Clark sent to him for his birthday

Speaking of Clark, his Superman autograph is framed on the wall in his room

He makes friendship bracelets when he's bored!! Most of them he gives to children he rescues as Robin (it becomes Gotham Culture to compare how many Robin friendship bracelets you have. The record is 23). The ones he doesn't give to victims are usually given to Rena or Eddie (and, in one rare occasion, to Bruce. it says "Spooky." Bruce still wears it after Jason comes back)

Robin Jason looks like a doll. He has an up-tipped button nose and eyes three times the size they ought to be, big eyelashes and cupids bow lips. He looks like Sheila as Robin, and like Willis as Red Hood

He has a tattoo in the shape of a batarang on his shoulder because of Willis (which I've written about here)

Okay i just realized how long this is oh my god. I didn't even make a DENT on my Robin Jason headcanons. god help me

[vivwritesfics]

Christmas Sweater

Y/N learns to Knit. Daniel loves it (so fucking much)

Masterlist

"Happy November first!" Daniel Ricciardo cheered as he came down to his living room on the morning of November first.

It had been a weird morning already. Danny had woken up alone, something he wasn't used to. And, if he did wake up alone, Y/N was usually in the bathroom. Not this time. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

So, he made his way downstairs. When he heard the television on, things in his head clicked into place. She'd gotten up early and gone downstairs to watch television, of course.

But then Daniel walked into the room and properly looked at what Y/N was doing. She sat on the couch with two thick knitting needles in her hands and yarn on the floor in from of her. Some of the yarn was a lovely dark red, some was white and some was dark green. "What are you doing?"

As far as Daniel was aware, his girlfriend had no idea how to knit. He didn't even know she had knitting needles. But she sat on the couch, knitting away, the two needles clacking together as she went. Her brow was furrowed and her tongue was poking out as she worked. No, Y/N didn't know how to knit.

When she got to a good place to stop, Y/N held up her needles, calling Daniel what she had been working on. "Grandma sent me some supplies so I could make you a Christmas sweater," she answered.

Daniel had a bit of a reputation in the F1 community. A reputation for his Christmas sweaters. The most notorious of the Christmas sweaters? Why, the jingle my bells sweater, of course.

"Baby," he said, drawing out the word as he sat beside her on the sofa. "You don't know how to knit."

She waved him off, dropping one of her needles. It slid out of the yarn, dropping to the floor. "I'm watching Youtube to learn, Danny," she said as she reached down to pick up the needle.

Instead of threading it back through the yarn, Y/N pulled out her other needle, pulled apart her work and started again.

Danny watched her. It was slow work at first, and he soon realised why she started so early on in the year. His eyes focused on her hands as she cast back on and began knitting once again.

Y/N had to stop and start several times before she finally got it right. Daniel sat on the couch with her, arm around her as she worked. Several times she held her knit work against his stomach (taking a moment to touch his abs. But, come on, who could resist?)

It took weeks, near to a month of constant work before Y/N finally finished with Daniel's Christmas jumper. She worked as they travelled, while she was supposed to be watching Daniel race.

It was perfect timing, really. She got it finished just before December began. Wrapping it up, Y/N placed it in a box, wrapped the box and finished it with a bow.

She gave it to Daniel on the first of December, exactly a month after he'd seen her start to make it. It was red with little green stripes and white reindeers that was clearly having sex.

"I love it," he said as soon as he unwrapped it. "You couldn't have done anything more perfect for me."

"Try it on then!" Y/N urged.

So, Daniel did exactly as she asked and tried on the jumper. He didn't take it off for the entire month of December. No matter what country he was in, he stayed in his Christmas jumper. No matter how hot and sweaty he got, he stayed in his Christmas jumper.

The best part of it? Y/N learnt how to knit. She began knitting everything. So, so many hats for winter. Gloves and scarves and blankets and sweaters and tops and bags. Anything Y/N could make, she did.

Daniel wore it all proudly. Where he used to wear his Red Bull and AlphaTauri shirts, he now wore whatever Y/N knitted for him.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[mediumgayitalian]

If there’s one thing Will is, it’s committed to the bit.

Is there, perhaps, a touch of regret in his heart as he shivers, freezing, clad in nothing but his t-shirt and cargo shorts? Had he been told, before he left his cabin, by his long-suffering siblings that he was going to regret not wearing a sweater? Was the none-too-gentle reminder sixty-four percent of the reason he’d stubbornly refused the sweater he’d originally been planning on wearing in the first place?

Yes, yes, and no, surprisingly; take that, predictability allegations. He’s spontaneous as shit.

(Eight-three percent.)

(Whatever.)

He walks under a shadowy tree, briefly enveloping him in a deeper cold. He tries and fails to hold back a shudder.

“You’re cold,” says a critical voice to his left.

“I’ve never experienced even a mild case of hypothyroidism-borne boreal temperature intolerance even one time in my life, di Angelo, so check and mate.”

Unfortunately, the second half of his sentence is garbled by both his chattering teeth and his throat beginning to close. Curse you, Apollonian inability to lie. Will has people to gaslight, and a reputation to protect.

“You’re an idiot.”

Will wheezes. After three or four attempts, and the threat from his brain to his lungs that he will self-tracheotomize, really, he will, just try and fuck around cause you will sure as shit find out, bitch, he manages to clear his airways enough to employ his vocal chords (which, actually, are inaptly named. They are not chords, they are membranophones. Obviously).

“Nuh uh.”

“You really are an idiot. A frozen one.” Nico huffs. There is the sound of rustling, and for a moment Will is blindingly jealous of his friend’s night vision. He wants to snoop around in the dark to identify rustling sounds. How come he only glows when he’s embarrassed? He gets the stupidest Apollo powers. “Take my coat.”

Before Will can do much as protest, a heavy, undoubtedly warm jacket is shoved in his pockets.

“If you don’t wear it I’ll shadow travel to Slovakia,” Nico threatens. “And it’s winter for them right now, too, so I’ll pop out and immediately succumb to the elements.”

Will’s turn to be huffy, he slides the stupid jacket onto his arms. Immediately, he’s filled with a warmth so potent he feels as if he can almost fix his many mental problems. It’s glorious.

“Jacket smells like you, stink-face,” he says instead. He buries his nose in the collar and takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes as he savours the smell of woodsmoke, leather, and, amusingly, a little bit of oregano.

“Remind me to stab you tomorrow morning. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days,” Will argues, but dutifully makes a mental note.

Nico seems pleased.

They finally break through the woods’ borders, stepping into the torchlight of camp, late evening. Will spots three couples sucking face behind their cabin. He then spies thrice as many Hermes kids up to nefarious deeds, such as attaching timed fireworks to windows and doorways for a fun morning surprise. Will makes a mental note, under the stabbing reminder, to prepare burn salve tomorrow morning. And to hide Cecil in his office for his own protection, because he’s a good friend like that.

“Thank you for getting herbs with me,” Will says, turning to Nico. He smiles, trying to pour as much gratitude into his voice as he can. “I hate going alone.”

“Yeah,” says Nico, stiffly. He looks everywhere but Will’s face. When Will does not look away, he glances over, scowling at Will’s broadening grin. “Whatever, Solace. Don’t be so needy, next time.”

Tactfully, Will refrains from mentioning that he had not asked for Nico’s accompaniment at all, actually, and was halfway to the forest with a list of ingredients when Nico had shown up, red-faced, and snatched Will’s list clean out of his hands and muttered something about incompetence and monster baiting fools.

“I still appreciate it,” he says diplomatically, and then, because he is an asshole and also struggles with impulse control, he leans down and pecks Nico’s forehead. “Smooch of gratitude,” he explains when Nico freezes, facial expression resembling that of a squished pear.

“Ha nngh mfgh,” Nico says after a moment. Or perhaps he said hangry muffins, Will’s not sure, sometimes his hearing aids go wonky.

“Indeed,” he says anyway. He leans down to smooch Nico’s forehead again, because it was nice, and because he didn’t get stabbed the first time. “See you in the morning, Neeks. Love you bunches and bunches.”

“Hngh daga,” Nico responds, and when Will pouts he clears his throat and rectifies, “I love you…too?”

Will nods, satisfied. “Yes, exactly. Goodnight.”

He jogs off, waving. It isn’t until he gets back to his cabin and is immediately accosted by his siblings that he realises that he has stolen Nico’s jacket.

“Hm.” He glances down at it. It really is a wonderful jacket. And, plus, Nico didn’t give him a return date, or anything, so it’s probably fine if he keeps it a little longer.

He doesn’t want to get cold, after all.

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 4

Maybe keeping a secret relationship with James is not as perfect as you think. Or, a whole lot of nothing, I need ideas plz.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I hope everyone had a great Christmas! If you don't celebrate it then I hope you had a good day! Sorry this part is really bad, I need ideas, PLEASE give me ideas in the suggestion box please ily.

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Did you hear that James Potter is dating someone?”

“Do you think it’s Lily? He’s been crushing on her for years” “Of course it’s Lily. They’re going to have the cutest babies.”

You focus on the schoolwork before you, trying to block out the people next to you. You know James and you agreed to keep this dating thing private but you can’t help but feel sad, and jealous when people think he’s dating Lily. 

You know James likes you, he’s made it clear. And you know that Lily doesn’t like James if the way she always rolled her eyes when he was around was any indication. 

You’ve told Lily and Alice everything between you and James, as James has Sirius and Remus. Alice already knew since James asked her what your favourite book was, and Lily was shocked, disgusted and happy for you all in the span of five minutes. 

The teacher dismisses the class and you rush out, bumping into Lily on your way to the girl's dormitory.

“You’ll come with me to the Quidditch game, right?” You ask nervously. You’re still nervous around James and Lily coming with you would help you calm down a lot. 

She nods, hooking her arm with yours, “Yeah. Do you want to start getting ready? I’ll paint your nails.”

“Can you paint them red? I don’t know what I’m wearing yet, please help me.” you plead, sighing in relief when you reach the Gryffindor common room. 

Scanning the room, your eyes land on James sitting on the couches in front of the fireplace, talking to James and Sirius.

Lily teasingly nudges me and you glare. “Stop it-” You stop at the sound of your name being called out and turn to face the speaker.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Sirius Black asks you from his seat, eyes swirling with mischief.

“Excuse me?” You squeak. From the corner of my eye, you see James smash his face against the couch pillow. 

“The Quidditch game. Do you want to sit with Remus and me?” James lifts his head from the pillow, cheeks flushed as he mouths a silent ‘sorry.’

You nod, “Okay. As long as Lily can sit with us.”

It’s Remus who speaks, “Of course. We’ll meet here in an hour.” 

You nod your head awkwardly, flashing them smiles then drag Lily up the stairs.

“I’m not ready to hang out with Remus and Sirius, what if they don’t like me? James values their opinion and if they don’t like me then who knows what will happen-” Lily cuts you off with her hands on your shoulders. “Calm down, it’ll be okay. You’ve worked with Remus before in Potions, remember? He liked you, and Sirius will like you too. Now cmon, let’s get ready.”

She leads you to a table in the corner, pulling out a deep red nail polish. You take turns painting each other's nails, Lily choosing to go for a dark green. 

“What do I wear?” You ask, throwing everything out of your trunk in search of something cute. She joins you on the floor, rummaging through your trunk before holding a black skirt up.

“This is cute!”

“It’s almost winter.” “So? You’ll wear tights.” 

It's pleated and lands mid-thigh. Hesitantly, you agree and you continue the hunt for a top. You chose to pair it with a maroon turtle neck sweater so you don’t freeze to death.

“Are you wearing cute underwear?” Lily asks as you get dressed.

“What? We’re not having sex!”

“Are you sure?” You send her a look. “Okay, but wearing cute underwear makes you more confident.” “Go away.” You can’t resist your smile as Lily laughs. You quickly do your makeup and hair, putting on simple black boots.

“Is this too much for a Quidditch game?” You ask self-consciously. Lily scoffs from behind you, “No. You look hot.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

—

Remus and Sirius are sitting in the same place as before, cheeky grins on their faces as they spot you. 

“You ladies look amazing,” Sirius purrs, “You ready? I know James is excited to see you.” He winks, causing your cheeks to flush. 

Ignoring Sirius and Lily’s laughter, you make your way to the field, Remus falling into step next to you. 

“Don’t stress about getting him to like you. He already does. We all do.” At your confused face, he continues, “James has been so much happier since he found out you were his soulmate. And we like whoever makes him happy. So as long as you don't break his heart, we like you.”

“I’d never break his heart.”

“Good.”

—

“Potter! Potter! Potter!” The common room is deafeningly loud with almost everyone from Gryfindoor celebrating.

Gryffindor won, obviously, and the celebrations have been going on for an hour already. Besides a quick congratulations on winning the game, you haven't seen James since. 

You and Lily were sitting alone in the corner before she got dragged away with a boy from her Defence Against the Dark Arts class, so now you’re sitting alone, nursing a glass of water as you try not to look too miserable. Parties have never been your thing, and even though you can’t exactly speak to James, you’d celebrate with him in spirit. 

Perking up, you spot Sirius coming towards you with flushed cheeks, forehead lined with sweat. “Darling! James asked you to meet him in the boy's dormitory. It’s nice and empty for ya.” He slurs, stumbling over his feet. 

Your cheeks flush red and you hurriedly thank Sirius before pushing your way through the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief when you make it into the dormitory.

It’s empty and you stand awkwardly in the middle, turning in a circle as you take in all the bits and bobs around the place. 

There’s only one bed made, most likely Remus’s, and clothes are strewn across the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I told the boys to clean up in here.” You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of James’s voice. Turning around, you take in his sweaty hair and flushed cheeks. 

“It’s okay.” You mutter quietly, watching as he comes closer. 

He goes to hug you but stops. “Sorry, let me have a shower.” He points to a messy bed, “Take a seat, I’ll be quick.” 

The door shuts behind him and you do as he instructed, tidying his bed up a bit, first. Ten minutes later he comes barreling in, cheeks flushed from the hot shower. 

He sits down next to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I feel like I haven't hugged you in ages. How are you, Love?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’m amazing.”

He kisses you, it’s soft and gentle but you can’t get those nagging thoughts out of your head. 

James notices, of course, he does. “You seem tense, you sure you’re okay?”

You tense even more and he pulls away slightly, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Are you okay?” He asks again.

“I- We’re not going to have sex, right?” You blurt, wincing immediately. 

He pulls away completely. “No. I just missed you, haven't seen you much tonight so I thought we could have some quiet time together, I know you don’t like parties. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention. I just missed you.”

Your cheeks flush and you shove them into your hands. “No, I’m sorry, I’m so stupid.”

He gently prys your hands apart, “Hey, no. I would’ve thought the same thing, too. But we’re not having sex until I become your boyfriend and we talk about what we’re comfortable with, okay?” “You want to be my boyfriend?” You ask shyly, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“Of course, You’re incredible. Why wouldn’t I want to be?”

You hesitate, “I have a lot of insecurities, James, and I don’t want to burden you with them.”

He scoffs, “You could never burden me.” He lays down beside you, reaching out so you’re forced to rest your chin on his chest, legs tangled with yours. 

You scoff, earning a stern glare from James.

You change topics, “So when are you going to be my boyfriend?” You question teasingly. 

He sighs playfully, “Well, I was going to ask you on our next date.”

Your eyebrows raise, “Our next date?” He nods. “I’ll bring your favourite food if you promise to ask me to be your girlfriend, okay? "He smiles, “It’s a deal.” Returning his smile, you lean in for a kiss, relishing in his warmth. Neither of you notices the time go by, too captivated by each other.

Taglist: I have a taglist omg

@lilianelena39 (I didn't know if you still wanted to be tagged but if you don't just leave a comment!) @remussbitch @universallyblizzardlove @ropickle

Thank you all for your support! I promise the next chapter will be more interesting, hopefully.

[crazylittlejester]

I so want to draw the modern boys in funny situations, but I dont really know what they wear! Like, does War still like to wear scarves? Do they all have some reference to their lu conterparts?

War has a weird collection of scarves, but his favorite is one hand knitted by (I cannot remember her name for the life of me but Zelda)

Does Sky have a blanket (sailcloth) he sleeps with that Sun made him? His red earrings?

Maybe Twi with a those little fur pelts people put on their belts? Or a necklace that looks like the shadow crystal, but its really just a cool rock he found one day that he turned into a necklace? Does he still have his facial tattoos? What do his tattoos look like, and what peircings does he have??

okay first of all THATD BE SO COOL IF YOU DREW THEM OH MY GOD, second: THANK YOU FOR GRANTING ME PERMISSION TO YAP ABOUT THEIR CLOTHES AND WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE BECAUSE I HAVE HAD THEIR DESIGNS FLOATING IN MY BRAIN FOR SO MANY MONTHS (also my bad for spelling mistakes im dyslexic and also tired and my brain is turning off 💔💔💔 i might have forgotten a few details because my head hurts but i think i got the important things??)

Wars:

His summer and winter wardrobes have completely different personalities. In warmer weather he wears a lot of crop tops or just shirts that just reach the top of his pants so long as his arms are down, and also just tighter fitting tops, because he’s absolutely a “big pants, little shirt” kinda guy. He has a love hate relationship with jeans, he only puts up with them in the summer if there are just no other pants that will fit his vibe, and the second his frontal lobe fully develops /j and he locks in to life he will probably never touch another pair of jeans again. He’s young, he had a uniform he had to wear in grade school, he’s fucking around with fashion. But he ALWAYS eats.

His winter wardrobe is what his sense of style will fully transform into in a few years: nice pants, solid color t-shirts under a cardigan, or just a full on sweater. he has a collection of rather nice coats. He doesn’t wear a whole lot of scarves YET, he’s got a couple but the collection will grow as the years go on aldkkdd. His iconic blue scarf was split into two objects in this au: A blue scarf that Wild knit for him when he retired from skating and was having a rough time, and a very very soft blanket that Athena (his Zelda :)) gifted him for his birthday one year. Athena has definitely also made him a scarf, she does crafts too :) but his blue one was from Wild

His hair is bleached blond and straightened every morning, because it’s naturally very dark brown and curly. The modern au is just a modernized version of hyrule kingdom, but in our world he’d be brazilian/scottish, and he does have a slightly darker skin tone, he’s not super pale (he looks just like my regular version of Wars I write/have drawn a few times because he’s just a modernized version of my regular Wars :)). He also has glasses but wears contacts for the most part, because unfortunately for him he is blind as fuck aldkdkdd. He has his ears pierced, he usually just has simple silver studs in just so the holes don’t close (he’s paranoid about that), but he has other bigger earrings if he’s trying to match them with an outfit, and he usually wears eyeliner. He also has freckles, and a DECENT amount of em, but he covers those up with makeup. He rarely half commits to a look when he leaves the apartment, he either dresses up and fully does his makeup and hair and puts his contacts in, or he puts on a casual outfit and wears a hat because he hates his hair

Sky:

He dresses like an english teacher, which is the direction he’s planning on going in for his future job, but he’s already got the sweaters and general vibe at 21 years old and it’s really funny. On the days he’s too exhausted to really dress up, sweatpants and a hoodie will do. He always looks slightly disheveled, but in a frustratingly charming way that has Warriors screaming at a wall because his morning routine is very long and he’s rarely happy with how he looks and Sky can just roll out of bed, wash up, run a hand through his hair and somehow look perfect and this annoys him

He does have his red earrings!! And his sail cloth in his au IS a blanket that was a gift from Sun :) She made it from him the first year they dated after he had a health scare and was just not doing good for about a month. The blanket brought him a LOT of comfort then, and it still does now :)

His hair is dark brown and curly (not as curly as Wars’s is naturally but still curly and not wavy), and he’ll color it sometimes so it’ll end up brown but slightly red toned. He has a much darker skin tone than the other two, and his eyes are a dark gray

Twilight:

He owns like. 8 pairs of INCREDIBLY similar looking jeans and probably five too many flannels. If he EVER forgot it was halloween and he just ended up wearing his normal clothes he could probably say he chose to be dean or sam winchester and people would believe it. Warriors makes jokes about how Twi has like 7 different versions of the SAME outfit all the time, but he also borrows one very specific jacket of Twi’s because its big on him and will fit over other layers so he can’t complain too much or Twi won’t let him wear it anymore. He and Wars are opposites in the sense that if Wars is “big pants little shirt” Twi is “big shirt little pants”. Though at night that switches, because Twi sleeps in big ass flannel pants (you will never get him away from his emotional support flannel) and a tight fitting t shirt or tank top (he gets hot at night) and Wars is the guy in shorts and a GIGANTIC hoodie who walks around complaining he’s cold as if he does not own multiple pairs of sweatpants (which he primarily wears when he skates). (Sky owns ACTUAL pajamas)

He doesn’t really have anything that would be a pelt, the closest thing would be a very fluffy gray blanket his adoptive mom/aunt Malon bought him when he moved out. He DOES have a rock necklace!!! He likes rocks and Hyrule knows this, so it was a gift from Hyrule (who is the Rock Guy of the friend group aldkdkkd). He doesn’t have his facial tattoos, but he has a lot of others. All of his tattoos are on the left side of his body; left arm, left hip, left side of his chest right over his rib cage. Most of them are different animals he really likes all pieced together, others are small designs that represent people he loves. He also has a matching tattoo with Sky, which is a bird sitting on a goat’s head and a little cat is nearby (Twi’s is on the inside of his wrist, Sky’s is above his ankle, and because each animal is supposed to represent each of them they got Wars a bracelet with the little animals on it so he could be included too). He has three lobe piercings (on each side), and then just on his left he has a helix piercing, and a left eyebrow piercing. He also has a scar just before his hairline because when he was around nine he cracked his head open, and that is ALSO on his left side of his face. (he intentionally puts everything on the left, tho the scar he definitely had no control over because he was a child and fell)

His hair is brown and has a little bit of a wave to it, and his skin tone is darker than Wars’s but lighter than Sky’s. His eyes are brown, he’s got big ol’ sad brown eyes

ALSO!! Wolfie in this au is a very sweet dog who lives on the ranch that Twi rescued :)

[srslyblvck]

── LOVER BOY !! wolfstar

❛ 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂’𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾𓈒𓈒

ooo. chapter one !

ooo. series masterlist !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE LITTLE STREET IN Cardiff was picture-perfect, especially this time of year. Snowflakes dusted the cobblestones, twinkling lights dangled from eaves, and shop windows glowed with Christmas warmth. Tucked away from the bustle of the high street, it was a corner where individuality thrived. On one side stood Moonlit Ink, a small but reputable tattoo shop, its façade muted save for the intricately painted crescent moon sign. On the other, a new arrival had thrown the lane into a festive buzz: Fleur Sauvage, a flower boutique, freshly opened and impossible to miss with its warm yellow door and an explosion of seasonal arrangements spilling onto the pavement.

Inside the flower shop, Sirius Black was putting the finishing touches on a wreath of holly and ivy. His black leather gloves, lined with red stitching, were tossed carelessly onto the counter, revealing tattooed hands that danced over ribbons and greenery with surprising delicacy. He was wearing a loose button-down under a wool peacoat, the collar half-popped in a way that seemed to say, Yes, I woke up looking this good.

"Et voilà," Sirius murmured, stepping back and eyeing his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied, before glancing at his reflection in the glass door to adjust a stray strand of dark hair.

That was when he saw him.

Next door, standing in the doorway of Moonlit Ink, was a man Sirius hadn't noticed in his few whirlwind days of moving in. The man was tall, dressed in a soft sweater under a thick winter coat, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was pale, with tawny brown hair that curled slightly under his woolen beanie. He looked... Sirius searched for the word. Careworn? No, that wasn't it. Shy? Close. Kind. Definitely kind.

The man was watching Sirius with an expression that hovered between curiosity and suspicion. Sirius, naturally, decided this was an invitation.

"Salut!" Sirius called, his voice ringing out in the stillness. He crossed the snowy pavement in a few long strides, wreath swinging from one hand. "I am your new neighbour!" He gestured grandly toward the flower shop. "You must have noticed. It's hard to miss, no?"

The man blinked, clearly startled, but didn’t retreat. “Uh, yeah,” he said, voice quiet but pleasant, tinged with a Welsh lilt. “Hard to miss, indeed.”

"Well, you don’t sound thrilled," Sirius said with mock offense, clutching his chest as though wounded. His grin softened the tease. "You’re the tattoo artist, no? Moonlit Ink. Lovely name, by the way."

“That’s me,” the man admitted, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Remus Lupin.”

"Enchanté." Sirius thrust out his hand, which Remus shook after a moment’s hesitation. Sirius noted the warmth of his grip, the faint calluses. He liked that. “Sirius Black. And my shop is Fleur Sauvage. It means ‘Wild Flower.’ Very chic, very me.”

Remus gave a faint smile. “Seems to suit.”

Sirius leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “So, tell me, how does one man the tattoo needles with such... sensitive hands?” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, a mischievous glint in his grey eyes.

Remus flushed. “I, uh…” He trailed off, visibly flustered, and Sirius had to bite back a laugh. The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but the genuine sweetness of it took him slightly by surprise.

“I tease,” Sirius said, stepping back to give him space, though he made a mental note of how Remus’s blush crept to the tips of his ears. “I’ll be popping by soon enough for some work of my own. A man can never have too much ink, no?”

“You… you have tattoos?” Remus asked, glancing over Sirius’s arms, visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. His tone was quiet, but Sirius swore he heard a note of interest.

Sirius smirked, tugging the collar of his shirt to reveal a swirl of black ink that snaked over his collarbone. “Many. Perhaps you’ll see them all. In time.”

Remus blinked, his lips parting as though to reply, but instead, he simply nodded. Before the moment could stretch into awkwardness, Sirius clapped his hands together.

“Well, I shan’t keep you standing in the cold. But you must come by soon, eh? I’ll make tea. Or mulled wine, if you prefer. And I’ll insist on a tattoo tour.” He winked and turned toward his shop, the wreath swinging jauntily as he went. “Happy Christmas, neighbour!”

Remus stood there a moment longer, watching as Sirius disappeared through the bright yellow door, the scent of pine and cinnamon trailing after him. A faint smile lingered on his lips as he turned back into his own shop, shaking his head at the absurdly charming whirlwind that had just entered his life.

[writtenonreceipts]

a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays @howlingcaptaincommando!  It’s been a delight getting to know you these few weeks, thanks for putting up with my insanity and I hope you enjoy this messy, slightly chaotic thing…I'm sorry you got stuck with me. Considering all the bangers being released already and then there's this...

thank you to @acotargiftexchange for organizing this event again! <3<3<3

Warnings: none (except it’s me so you’ve gotta put up with that) ~10k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

We’re All Waiting On A Dream

Elain Archeron had never done well with winter.

It was an unfortunate truth that no matter what she did—it never changed.

She could fill her house with plants and flowers, she could open all the blinds of the small coffee shop where she worked, she could bake her favorite bread and dessert every day of the week.  But nothing could replace the sunlight of a new spring day or the deep unyielding warmth of the summer sun.

It was only mid-November and she was already craving when the sun would return.  Already, she’d planned just how she would spend those first few warm days of the season and none of them involved being indoors, cold, or sitting around at home.  She was going to travel and make the best of summer.

She just had to wait six months.

The lingering light of afternoon spilled through the front windows of the shop, splashing across the worn hardwood floors.  It was barely four-thirty and already the sun was sneaking lower into the horizon.  In just a few more minutes, it would sink behind the nearest buildings and shadows would replace those gentle strips of light.

It was unavoidable, so Elain made the best of it as she swept around the shop and adjusted the lamps that would soon do a majority of the lighting for the night.  The dark oak flooring was nicked and scuffed from the wear and tear over the years.  If Elain wasn’t mistaken it was the same flooring from when the shop was first built.  One of these days she would try and restore the shabby wood, knowing that with a bit of sanding and new stain, the floors would gleam with new life.  The project, with as much work as it would be, sounded fun.  Another activity to wait to complete though.

For now, she continued her usual tasks as she straightened the small reading couch in one corner and collected a bit of trash that someone left behind.  There usually wasn’t much cleaning to do even as a coffee shop.  They were tucked down a small alleyway on main street, nestled beside the antiques boutique, only the locals ever really knew where to find them.  And on nights like this, things usually remained relaxed and slow.

Really, though—she didn’t mind.  These were the nights she enjoyed most.  The quiet ones.  The easy ones.  The shop had long been her solace, even back in school when she’d just been a patron.  Even when the winter months dragged on and on, she’d found that this place with its shelves of books and the homey atmosphere were welcoming and helped lighten her mind.  It was the kind of the shop where nothing chaotic ever—

The front door jangled open with a frenzy that nearly toppled the bell along the top rail.  A gust of winter air swept through the shop, nibbling at Elain’s exposed ankles.  She spun around just in time to see a tall man dressed in a pair of neat, black pants and deep green sweater enter the shop.  His long red hair hung loose down his shoulders; his warm tanned skin complimented by the colors of his sweater.  He was too handsome for his own good, looking far too confident and sure of himself.  None of which was helped by the smirk that curled his full lips. 

“Elain.” he greeted as soon as he saw her.

Lucien Vanserra.  

Even after all this time of knowing him, she never quite knew what to think of him.  He had a way of taking the peaceable moments and turning them right on their head.  No matter what happened, whenever or wherever Lucien was—there was certainly a bit of mischief to follow.

He was by himself tonight which wasn’t too much of an anomaly.  Often, he was with one of his old college friends, Jurian.  The two of them were well known for rambunctious energy and very little restraint.  Elain had shared several classes with the two of them all through university, ended up in the same study groups, and now was subject to them coming into the shop just about every day.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain too much.  Between college and the two of them were how she met one of her closest friends, Vassa, who was also currently dating Jurian.  Or they were just sleeping together.  Elain wasn’t too sure of the details but knew better than to ask else she face Vassa’s wrath and own probing questions.

Lucien himself was impossible to know, Elain had long ago decided.  He could be an arrogant smartass while all at the same time—an idiot.  The fact that he was the most attractive man Elain had ever seen didn’t help much either. 

“Lucien.”  Much to her chagrin she often was at a loss for words when they came face to face.  She’d always been flustered by him, not that she’d ever admit it.  It was that disarming smile of his she was sure.

Lucien glanced around the empty shop. “Slow night?”

“It was,” Elain said, arching a brow.  Just because he flustered her didn’t mean she had to like him.

Lucien only grinned as he approached the register.  He was too comfortable here, Elain decided.  Especially with that confidence he always seemed to walk with.  She shouldn’t judge him for that.  He was always here at the shop these days, mostly because it was the only quiet space on the downtown strip.  Though, Elain had no idea what he was doing, only that it kept him busy.  He almost always had a computer before him taking care of some sort of work.  If he wasn’t going over documents, he was on the phone in quiet but urgent conversations.  She hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him what it was he did for work, worried that it would open some unknown door that she couldn’t shut if she got in too deep.

She left off cleaning and went behind the counter already putting his usual order in.  He always got the same thing no matter the time of day, no matter the time of year.  She hadn’t meant to memorize it, but when she was always here working and he was always coming in—it was impossible not to do.

“Do you want your usual order?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.  She only realized her mistake upon looking up to find Lucien cocking an eyebrow.

“Keeping tabs on my habits, Elain?” He looked far too pleased at that fact, that smile of his rising just a tick.

“Hard not to when you’re always here,” she said, drily. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.” he replied cheerfully.

Lucien really was a hard person to get to know, to understand, really.  Elain had decided that back at university.  His personality was so charming that he often received more attention than most.  His good looks certainly helped too.  Elain didn’t know if calling him a flirt was right or not, but his silver tongue often made her wonder if she’d ever experienced the real Lucien Vanserra.  Even worse was, she sometimes wanted to know the real him.

He only chuckled at her sardonic look. “The usual is great.  With an extra bagel, if you could?”

Elain took his payment and handed back the thick black credit card. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”

As she moved to get started on his drink—an iced vanilla latte with caramel—he remained at the counter, leaning against the solid granite.  He did this every so often, trying to strike up a conversation with her.  It was usually the stuff of nonsense that ranged from what she thought about pineapple on pizza to who keeps breaking into local zoos and releasing animals from their cages in the middle of the night.

He was immediately offended when she told him pineapple was acceptable as a pizza topping.  In fact, she didn’t see him for three days after that confession.  Though she didn’t think it really had anything to do with her and more on the lines of the mysterious work he was always up to.

“You’re always here, Elain,” Lucien said.  “Don’t you ever get a break?”

Elain scoffed at the question. “I can’t afford time off.  I’ve got bills to pay.”

School hadn’t been cheap and she still was not working in her major.  A fact she would rather not think about.

“Jurian and I are going to a basketball game next week,” he said, “you should come.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d endeavored to invite her out.  Just a few weeks ago there’d been a party thrown by Lucien’s older brother.  It was supposedly one of the best parties of the year, including New Years.  

Though, Elain wasn’t sure what counted as best party of the year considering all the times Lucien and Jurian had thrown dorm parties involving ranking Mario Cart avatars and how best to optimize playing the game to goldfish racing.

Elain didn’t bother to learn about the second activity.

“Can’t,” she said.  She pulled two toasted bagels from the toaster and wrapped them up with a tube of cream cheese. “Someone’s gotta run the shop.”

It was true.  Alis had stopped trying to hire anyone new because Elain always insisted on picking up shifts.  Sure there was Nuala or Ceridwen who also rotated on shifts, but Elain preferred to be working.

Lucien frowned, just barely, at her answer before he accepted the bagels and finished drink from her. “Alright, it’s an open invitation though.” 

He continued to eye her curiously for a minute longer before finally turning and heading to his usual table in the back corner of the shop.

Elain couldn't help but watch as he settled into his seat before turning back to her workstation to clean up after herself.  A small pang echoed in her chest but she didn’t quite know how to identify the emotion behind it.

It wasn’t as though she wanted to be a recluse.  Ever since leaving school, things hadn’t gone her way.  Jobs kept turning her down.  Her student loans were piling up.  Most of her friends had moved away.  Not to mention her relationship with her sisters was rocky at best.  Their mother’s death hadn’t helped matters either.  In all honesty, the distraction of always being at work was nice.  She was exhausted by the time she got home and almost always immediately fell asleep and didn’t have to think about anything else other than keeping herself (and plants) alive.

She used to be the going out type.  Used to love the social scene.  It got harder though when dad’s health was declining.  And then the Grayson matter.

Something needed to change.  She knew that.  Just a small little switch to flick and then maybe she’d feel a little bit better about where she was in life.  Every time she thought about what that change could be, however, her mind only let her consider all the disastrous and unfortunate outcomes that would inevitably occur.

Which was why Tinder had long since gone dormant on her phone.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Elain was startled to attention by the door of the shop thudding open again.

“Where on earth have you been!”

Elain froze at the voice.  She’d just settled in to run an inventory of supplies on the computer when her sister chose that moment to enter the shop.

Nesta Archeron entered the shop like a whirlwind.  A chaotic, well put together whirlwind that hardly, if ever, touched down.  She was constantly involved with one event or another, specifically to please her fiancé, or she was trying to keep her own career afloat (made nearly impossible because Thomas was an ass).  There was no easy way to describe Nesta.  Especially not when she hardly offered anything of herself in return.  Elain loved her sister, truly she did, but sometimes the woman could be rather intense.  

Her blonde hair was swept back in half-do, tendrils of hair framing her sharp features and emphasizing the startling silver of her eyes.  The neutral tones of her make-up only emphasized her striking beauty and highlighted the determined way she was looking at Elain.

“I’ve been here,” Elain said, slightly amused as she typed into the computer. “All day.  My job is rather annoying like that.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, unamused and stalked the rest of the way to the register, her high heeled shoes clicked lightly on the floor, her black dress and sleek jacket indicating it had been a please the fiancé sort of day and not one to have to herself.  She set her purse, some designer that Elain didn’t recognize, on the counter and leaned forward with a frown.

“You missed the dress fitting,” Nesta said.

Elain nodded. “Just like I told you I would.  There was no one to take my shift and I wasn’t about to close shop in the middle of the day.”

Elain had tried explaining this to her sister before, but since it was an inconvenience for her, Nesta had forgotten it.  Alright.  That was unfair.  Nesta did have quite a bit of stress as she was trying to plan a wedding with a useless fiancé.  And said useless fiancé was having Nesta take over quite a bit of his own business duties.

Anytime Elain tried talking to her sister about it, Nesta shut down and changed the topic entirely.

“I know,” Nesta sighed, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face.  A look of genuine apology flashed in her eyes.  “I know.  I’m sorry, but it was the only time that worked and you know how important this is for Thomas.  But I really needed you at the fitting, Elain.  Everything has to go perfectly.” 

Flinching inwardly, Elain held back a sigh.  On Saturday, her soon to be brother-in-law was to be honored as the new vice-president of his company…doing something of some import.  All because of the work Nesta herself had done.

In any case, Elain would be expected to attend because the more people there in support of Thomas the better he came off to his boss.  Though, if he were being promoted his boss must already think highly of him.  (It was all very convoluted to Elain.)

Then came the fact that Thomas did not like her.  And she didn’t like him, so really it all worked out that way.  But Elain liked her sister.  She wanted to support her sister.  And now she was roped into a hoity toity gala.  She’d have to shave.  Everywhere.

“Nesta,” Elain said patiently, “I am more than happy to support Thomas,” who knew she was an excellent liar? – “and I will be there.  Buy the dress as is and I can have Vassa alter it for me.  She’s good like that.”

Vassa would laugh her ass off is what she would do, but Elain wouldn’t tell Nesta that.

Nesta blinked, a mild look of panic seizing her face.  “Does Vassa know anything about sewing?”

“Sure,” Elain shrugged. “How hard could it be?”

“Elain.”

“Nesta.” Elain reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “The dress fit perfectly the first time I tried it on, three weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference.” 

“Alright.  You’re right.” Nesta sighed, slouching even further into the counter.  Elain had no doubt her sister was counting down the moment to when she could kick her heels off into a corner and not look at them for at least twenty-four hours.  “I won’t worry about the dress.  But, I do need to know who you’re bringing.”

“Bringing?” Elain repeated. An icy feeling started spreading through her.  Oh no.  Oh no.  She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yes bringing, you can't come alone Elain,” Nesta said. She gave Elain a look as this was the most obvious thing.  “There will be cameras and Thomas’s boss will be there too.”

Why Elain should care about Thomas’s boss, she had no idea.  Why anyone would care about her being there, she had no idea.  And she said as much.

“Who cares if I have a date?” She demanded. “I am a grown woman. I don't have to bring anyone.  I don’t think anyone will want to stamp my picture on whatever new pamphlet the company puts out next year.”

Nesta’s own panic spread across her face. “Please, Elain.  I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it has to go perfectly. I know someone I can ask for you, Thomas has a friend—”

Elain blanched.

“No, no I have someone.  I have someone…a boy. A boyfriend. I have one.” Elain spoke before she even knew what she was saying. She was digging her own grave but her brain hadn't caught up to that fact.

“You have a boyfriend?” Nesta snapped to attention at the words.  Her blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “Why haven't I heard about him? What's his name, where did he study? Family?”

She really had to think before she spoke.  This was not going to end well.  Elain gaped at her sister trying hard to think of an answer.  How much could she make up before Nesta caught on?  Could she fabricate the perfect gentleman only to have him break her heart on the night of the event?  Or would that be too dramatic and detract from Thomas?

Elain pulled herself together as best she could. “This is why I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this, Nesta.”

“Honestly Elain, if you’re just going to make up a story--” Nesta was already pulling out her phone and selecting a number in her contacts.

“Lucien.”  Elain blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Lucien Vanserra.  That’s who he is. And he's right here. Lucein!”

At the very direct sound of his name, Lucien looked up from his coffee and laptop with a bite of bagel making its way to his mouth.  It was the first time she had ever seen him caught off guard.  It was rather unfortunate that she didn't have time to appreciate it properly. 

Lucien recovered from whatever shock he was facing or he was just that good at reading a situation because he set down his bagel and in a few loping steps he was back out the counter, his grin back in place.

“Elain.” As always, he appeared perfectly agreeable, his casual business wear only emphasizing how put together he was.  Whether he’d overheard what Elain and her sister had been talking about, she couldn’t tell.  She just hoped he was as good an actor as he always seemed to be.

Especially given the fact that Nesta was scrutinizing him in overtime.

“This is the boyfriend?” Nesta asked, her words slow as if she herself needed to make sense of them too.

Lucien glanced at Elain with a rather bemused expression.  She gave him as pleading a look as she could while Nesta continued her assessment.

When Lucien nodded discreetly at her, Elain felt a small bit of relief.  She wouldn’t trust it for long though.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said.  He extended a hand to Nesta who paused for a moment before accepting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  Elain talks about you all the time.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately.  As with everything, she took great care in analyzing everything about a situation.

“Vanserra,” Nesta repeated.  She had a thing about names and people and appearances.  Vanserra must have been a decent enough name because Nesta raised her chin slightly, a slow smile working at one corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Unperturbed, Lucien adopted his casual ease and laughed. “Considering how long it took for her to pay me any attention, I’m not surprised.”

His words sent an unbidden flush over Elain’s skin even as she glared at him.  She didn’t exactly know what to make of his words either.  Either he was very good at lying on the spot (concerning) or there was a pinch of truth to his words (also concerning).

“Well,” Nesta said. She turned back to Elain abruptly.  “Saturday.  The event starts at seven, I expect you to be there at six-thirty.  Six-thirty, Elain.”

“I will be there,” Elain said, Nesta gave her a look. “We will be there.”

The only thing that saved Elain from further humiliation by her own doing was Nesta’s phone buzzing with an incoming call.

Nesta only ignored it long enough to raise a single brow to Lucien. “Black tie.”

It wasn’t until the door of the shop clicked shut that Elain let out a rather unfeminine groan and nearly collapsed across the work counter.  What had she just gotten herself into? 

“So,” Lucien said, his voice growing closer as he filled the space Nesta vacated.  Elain looked up to him leaning across the space to get closer to her. “When did we start dating?”

Elain felt her cheeks flush deeper.  Oh hell, what had she done?

Huffing out a breath she straightened and ran her hands through her hair. She fixed Lucien with as menacing a look as she could while he kept grinning.

“What was I supposed to do?  She was going to set me up with someone from her fiancé’s work.  I’ve seen a majority of those men, no good options.”  Elain knew she was rambling in desperation, but she couldn’t help it.  Thankfully the embarrassment of the past ten minutes hadn’t set in yet.  That was one miracle she’d accept.

“Hm,” Lucien hummed, “I do see your dilemma.  This is a rather interesting choice of action though, all the same.”

Groaning, Elain started pacing behind the counter. “It’s fine.  I can make up a dramatic break-up story within the next three days.  That’ll fix this. Oh, no.  It won’t because she knows your name, she’ll find you.  I could fake an illness?  Except I used that the last time there was one of these events.”

This was turning out to be not very good.  

Elain stopped and looked at him. “I am so sorry. This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Ah, Elain, what you don’t know about me is that I was born for mischief and mayhem.  Just ask my mother, she has an entire photo album dedicated to the destruction I caused as a child.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” she said, slightly horrified.

He flashed her a smile. “Oh but it will help.  I can promise a night full of fun, you’ll hardly even realize you’re at a…where are we going?”

“A work party for her fiancé’s marketing company,” Elain explained, crinkling her nose as she remembered the rather mundane and boring job Thomas had. “He just landed an account for drills and is being promoted.”

“Why the hell would anyone—” Lucien cut himself off with a wave of his hand— “doesn’t matter.  The point still stands that I can guarantee a fun night.”

“Can you hold a conversation about drills?”

“No but I do know magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

Lucien spoke first. “It’d be hilarious.  Get you out of any more of these events.”

A startled laugh escaped her.  She couldn’t help it.  There was just something in the way he spoke and the sincerity that he held that just seemed funny.  At her first bubble of laughter, Lucien joined in.  

“C’mon, Elain, consider it a practice run,” he said.

“Practice run?” Elain repeated.

“Sure,” Lucien shrugged. “When you come to the basketball game with Jurian and I.  Vassa can come.”

His eyes sparked with a mix of humor and���hope?

Elain approached the counter again, still not believing that he was agreeing to this.  Even with a little bit of insistence to his own favor.  In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so interested in her.  In school she’d been a bit intense in her studies and hadn’t left much room from friendships or other relationships for that matter.  But he’d always been there on the edge of her sights.  A nuisance sure, but there all the same.  And there weren’t a lot of people she could say the same of.

“You have a suit and tie?” she asked.  He nodded. “You’re okay with pretending to be my boyfriend?” Another nod. “You won’t let this be a thing that you hold over my head?”

“Elain,” Lucien said.  A bit of the humor left his voice and he straightened. “Consider it a favor among friends.  You don’t even have to go watch basketball.  I want to help you out.”

She worried her lip, still not completely convinced.  But she knew what would happen if she showed up alone and knew that Nesta would laud it over her for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lucien Vanserra, would you please be my fake boyfriend?”

His russet eyes sparked.  “Elain Archeron, it would be my pleasure.”

…

On Saturday evening, Elain found herself trying to control her sanity.  It was not going very well.

“Would you hold still?” Vassa muttered for yet another time.  She stabbed Elain’s shoulder with a bobby pin. “We’re almost done.”

Elain squirmed again.  Usually, she didn’t mind sitting still and being pampered.  Hell, she loved it.  Getting dressed up and looking her best was something she missed being able to do.  It had been the one thing she was looking forward to about the night.  After so long of being so shut in, having a night to just be and have fun?  If it weren’t for the mess of dealing with Thomas (and now a forced fake relationship) she wouldn’t have given her sister such a hard time.  

As it was, she was still nervous.  

Maybe it was being out among people again?  No, she’d always loved people and making new friends.  It had to be Lucien.  It had to be the idea of getting closer to him even for a night.  She had no idea why.  It was just Lucien.  

But the closer the clock ticked to six, the more her stomach flopped.

Vassa tugged hard on Elain’s hair.

“Ow!”

“Oops.”

Elain glared through the mirror at her friend who ignored her.  It hadn’t taken very much pleading to enlist her friends help in preparing for this stupid party.  Mostly just a promised girl’s night out. Though, after Elain had explained what had happened and who she would be going with and the entirety of the fake boyfriend situation—Vassa had found no issue in helping Elain out.

Once she’d stopped laughing of course.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Elain muttered.  She wrung her hands together as she stared at their reflections. “I should have just put my foot down and told Nesta no.”

“Since when has telling Nesta no ever worked out, Elain?” Vassa replied.  She shoved another bobby pin into place causing Elain to wince. “Besides, Lucien is fun.  Do you remember in school when he hired a mariachi band to follow the dean around?”

That, admittedly, had been hilarious.  There was also the time Lucien and Jurian had built a giant outdoor water slide on the hottest day of the year.  Complete with a water balloon fight afterwards.  If there was one thing to say about Lucien it was that he enjoyed having a good time.

“And he’s good looking,” Vassa added.

“Vassa,” Elain sighed.

“He comes into your shop a lot too,” Vassa said.  She cocked her head to one side through the mirror, a small smile on her lips.

Elain’s glare went ignored.  Again.

After another few minutes, Vassa hummed happily and patted Elain’s head.

“There,” she said. “I think that looks good.”

It really did.  

While Elain could often manage on her own to make herself look flawless and put together—she’d needed a bit more confidence for that night.  And who else could she ask for help than Vassa?  

Most of her hair still flowed down her back in loose curls, but the rest was pulled up in a twisting braid.  It all came together with the carefully applied make-up Elain had done.  

“Thanks,” Elain said.  She touched a few places in her hair out of habit.  Everything was perfect though.

“You’re gonna look great,” Vassa said.  Her smile was infectious as she leaned in for a quick hug.  “Let's get you in your dress.  He’ll be here any minute.”

Elain’s stomach flopped again.  She really wasn’t going to get out of this was she?  And yet there was a small part of her that asked if she really wanted to.  

It had been ages since she’d had a fun night out.  Even if it was to go to an event for Thomas of all people—Elain was just eager for fun.  And she was going with Lucien.  Lucien who actually made Elain smile.  And he’d never pressured her in all the little flirtations he’d thrown her way.  He’d remained respectful and even kept his distance when she’d silently begged for it.  Not that he’d known what was going in in her life, but her relationship with Grayson had been a joke.  It’s what had led to her slipping away from her usual outgoing self…

Elain banished the thoughts away.  She couldn’t be thinking about this.

She hurried after Vassa and down the hall to her room.

She hadn’t been able to get any help with making extra modifications to the gown, but she wasn’t worried.  She’d never had an issue with finding things that fit easily.  Both Nesta and Feyre hated her for it, but Elain had never been more grateful than she was that night.

Vassa was already pulling the dress from its coverings, revealing the floor length fabric.  If there was one thing Elain could trust Nesta in, it was her fashion sense.

The dress was a pale purple made of a light chiffon fabric.  There was a little bit of rouching at the sides with a draped neckline.  Elian’s favorite part about the dress though were the sheer flutter sleeves.  It might be a little impractical with the chill weather, but she didn’t care.

She couldn’t help the small smile as she examined the dress.  Yes.  She was more than a little excited to wear it.  She hurried and stripped from her leggings and tank top before shimming into the dress.  The other good thing was that she didn’t have to mess with a strapless bra and could get away with what she usually wore.

She waited as Vassa zipped her in and brushed out any wrinkles or funny lines in the fabric.

Vassa hummed in amusement as she circled Elain once. “Your breasts look amazing.”

Hell.

Elain smacked her friend on the arm and turned to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of her room.  Indeed, her breasts looked amazing.  The dress was of a silky material that clung to Elain’s usually nonexistent curves.  The sweetheart neckline dipped a bit lower than she expected, showing off more of her neck and collarbones.  The soft purple color complimented her lighter complexion and the rich brown undertones of her hair.  She didn’t look washed out or haunted—she looked like herself.  Happy.

“Damn,” Elain sighed. “I was hoping I’d look terrible.  Nesta wouldn’t blame me for not showing up if I looked like a cow.”

Vassa snorted a laugh. “Please, Elain.  You’d look good in anything.”

Elain bit her lip and gave a half spin, watching the fabric twist with her movements. “I don’t know if I have a jacket that will match.  It’s too cold to go without something.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Vassa said before disappearing to her own room.

As soon as she vanished, there was a knock at the front door and Elain froze.  Hell.  It was already time, wasn’t it?

She took a long breath, flattening her hands over her stomach.  She could do this.  It was going to be fun and easy.  Lucien after all had agreed to no pressure, they were simply friends.  She stared into her own eyes, gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hall to the small entry way of the apartment.  She took one more steadying breath as she pulled the door open.  

There, looking impeccable in a neat, black suit and perfectly knotted tie was Lucien.  His hair was unfortunately pulled back into a low hanging tail, Elain always liked seeing it loose.  The suit fit him well, emphasizing his muscular build well.  He looked good.  He’d always been handsome with his tall figure and strong jaw, but tonight felt different.

Elain knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it.  The only solace she took in that was the way Lucien was taking her in.  His gaze flicked from her dress to her face and she swore his mouth parted just a bit.  Now he was just putting on a show.

“Lucien,” she said, trying desperately to untangle her tongue. “You clean up well.”

That had to be the stupidest thing she could have said.  Hell in handbasket, what was wrong with her?

Still, that familiar smile of his returned and a glint sparked in his rich russet eyes. “I could say the same about you, Elain.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver racing down her spine.  Another thing she didn’t know how to reconcile.  Because if she were being honest, she was surprised he’d shown up at all.  He easily could have text a brief can’t make it text and really, could she have blamed him?  She cleared her throat, hands wringing together nervously.  She had no idea what was wrong with her—she didn’t get nervous, especially not around Lucien Vanserra of all people.

 “I almost thought you didn’t own a tie,” she added, falling back to what she knew--sarcasm. “You always say they’re too restricting.”

Lucien rolled his eyes.  “Until I started working for my brother.  Apparently, I have to be professional nowadays.” 

“Poor Lucien,” Elain sighed, “has to join the real world with the rest of us.”

“It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Vassa gave a shout of triumph from down the hall.

“I found it!” With the rapid pattering of bare feet, Vassa careened from her room and down to the entryway of the apartment.  Her red hair pitched violently to one side from the confines of her bun.  She waved a stylish jacket at Elain as she approached. “It will match perfectly, Nesta won’t have to gouge your eyes out.”

Elain accepted the jacket. “Thanks, Vassa.”

“Of course,” Vassa said.  She then flashed Lucien an appraising look. “Hello Vanserra.”

Lucien accepted Vassa’s scrutiny with grace, only continuing to smile with that charming grin of his. “Vassa, nice to see you again.”

Despite her earlier words of approval of him--Vassa continued to eye him suspiciously.  

“I have a list of rules that should be adhered to,” she began.

“No you do not,” Elain said.  She brushed past Vassa and gave her a quick hug.  “We’re late.  Thank-you for your help.”

She grabbed Lucien’s arm and ushered him out the door as quickly as possible.   

“Don’t do anything illegal, I don’t have bail money!” Vassa shouted after them.  

Elain let the door click shut without calling back a response.  It was easier that way.  Especially when there was no guarantee what Vassa would say next.  Sometimes her filter was a hit and miss.  

“She’s always such a delight,” Lucien commented as they got on the elevator.

Elain snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah.  She teeters on the edge of unsuspecting sweetheart to raging terror real quick.”

Once you got to know Vassa, to understand her nuances and her habits--she maintained the questionable reputation but with a bit more trust and care on your part.  Truly, Elain didn’t know where she would be without her friend.

“Didn’t she stage a revolution of frogs from the Biology Department on campus?” Lucien asked.

“It was very well organized,” Elain admitted.  She did not, however, remind Lucien that she had been right beside Vassa in running said revolution.

Despite Lucien’s protests, Elain insisted she drive.  Mostly for that semblance of control that she felt was slipping away from her.  She was far too nervous that she needed to be for the night.  Which was ridiculous considering this would turn out to be the most boring night imaginable.  No matter what Nesta insisted.

“Isn’t this the car you had back in school?” Lucien asked as Elain pulled out onto the highway.  “How is it still running?”

True, Elain’s small two-door car had quite a few years on her and the air conditioning didn’t work, but it was a good car.  She said as much.

“She’s reliable and all of her issues are easily fixed,” Elain said. She paused. “Well, that’s mostly because the stereo is really good and the speakers drown out any annoying sound.”

“Right, so what you’re telling me is that I could possibly die tonight?”

“You’re the one who insisted on helping me out,” Elain replied.  She smiled then, allowing the small levity of the moment to potentially ease her nerves.  When she glanced at Lucien, she found him watching her, a look of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the road and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at just having him here.  It was stupid really.  Just a response to being grateful he’d volunteered to this hairbrained idea.

“So,” Lucien began after a few minutes of silence, “how long have we been dating?”

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, the flutters picking up pace at his words.

“We’ve got to have a background Elain,” Lucien insisted, “can’t have anyone poking holes in this plot.  What would your sister say?”

Elain paused only a beat. “That I could have tried harder.”

“Exactly, now.  How long have we been dating?” he asked.

Elain wondered if she should be concerned by his enthusiasm about this. “Just a few months. Nothing elaborate.” 

“A few months and already willing to send me to the throes of your family?  You must really like me then.”

Elain glared while Lucien laughed.  It continued from there with them establishing details of how best they could pull this off.  Mostly, they leaned on their college days to fill in any details of how they met and things like that.  There wouldn’t be much lying involved since they’d shared so many classes right up until the division into their specific degrees. But Elain couldn’t help but laugh as he insisted it would work out fine.

“Please, Lucien,” she said as she pulled into the event center, where there was a line waiting for the valet. “You hated me back then, how’s anyone going to believe this?” 

“You think I hated you?” Lucien asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.

Elain’s lips parted, though she didn’t know how to reply.  She started to speak when a soft knock on her window indicated the valet was ready for them.

Glad for the interruption, she scrambled out of the car.  The young man dressed in a starched red vest was kind enough to help her out of the dinky little car.  And he didn’t even give her a side-eyed glance at the pathetic nature of her car.  That was nice.

She was still smoothing out her dress when Lucien came around the car and offered up his arm for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the offer.  If she were being honest, she needed the support of someone beside her for this.  It had been a while since she’d come out to an event like this.  Ever since her messy break-up with Grayson, she just hadn’t been up to going out.  

And she loved parties.  Truly, before Grayson, this would have been the highlight of her night, her week.  But after everything the man had put her through, Elain felt more than a bit of unease run through her.  Insecurities she’s felt throughout her relationship resurfaced.  She needed this night to prove to herself, and Nesta, that she was fine.  She was more than fine.  She was back to her usual self.  She was moving on.  She was—

“Elain,” Lucien said from beside her, his finger squeezing her arm just enough to be reassuring, “I can hear you overthinking this.”

She made a non-committal noise and let Lucien lead them up to the entrance doors behind another couple.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Really it is, all Nesta needs is to see me, then we can go find the caterer and beg for free food while hiding in the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” he asked, sounding intrigued by the idea. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to be at an event like this.”

“Usually I would,” Elain admitted, she shrugged delicately.  “I just can’t help but think something will go wrong with the night.  Or the dress.  Nesta wanted me to get it professionally altered but I didn’t have time, or money.  But Nesta likes being in control of things like this, I guess.”  She paused.  “I have cash stuffed in my bra; I am not beneath offering bribes.  We could be out of here in five minutes if we wanted.”

“Elain,” Lucien said softly as a woman offered to take their coats, “you’re freaking out.”

“If I were freaking out, you’d know it,” Elain replied. “I am merely over explaining everything to give me less time to worry about everything else.”

They entered the main hall of the center that had been completely transformed from the last time Elain had been here for a coffee expo for work.  Instead of standard tables and plain rugs, there was open space intermixed with tall glass tables and softly glowing lights.  It actually looked like an important event and some hoax.   

“Here she comes,” Elain said, spotting her sister immediately.  

Nesta strode toward them with purposeful steps.  The dress clung to her curves from the chest to her waist before billowing out around her hips.  The dark blue fabric was inlaid with beads that caught in the light, offering a little softness to the otherwise intimidating dress.  Though, there was no one else who could have pulled it off then Nesta.  She’d twisted her hair into a coronet of braids with beaded pins to match the dress. 

Elain couldn’t help but fidget with her dress.  Nesta had always been strikingly beautiful not only with her looks, but she was tall and well portioned in all the right places she should have been.  Elain had never felt the same about herself.  Oh, she’d been called lovely and pretty on many occasions, but here and now she felt like nothing in comparison to her sister.

A hand rested at the small of her back and Lucien leaned in to her side. “You look beautiful, Elain.  And if your sister doesn’t think so, she’s insane.”

The simple words caused heat to rise in Elain’s cheeks and she found herself staring into Lucien’s eyes.  Bright, russet eyes that had flecks of gold spinning amid the darker shades.  The certainty with which he spoke surprised her more than anything.

“Elain!” Nesta called out in a cheery voice that belied how stressed out she actually was.  Nesta was never cheerful.  Elain could swear she could see the whites of her sister’s eyes even from ten feet away. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” Elain greeted as her sister approached. 

Nesta pulled Elain into a tight hug, shocking considering how touch averse the eldest Archeron could be.  Elain accepted it for the good will gesture it was.

When she pulled back, Nesta smiled softly.  “You do look lovely.  The dress turned out perfect.”

“Thank-you,” Elain murmured.

Nesta gave her arm another squeeze before turning to look Lucien over.  She nodded once tightly.  “Well.  I’m glad you’re both here.  It’s going to be a good night.  Thomas’ boss is over there with the red tie, don’t look!  Red tie, silver hair.  Do not talk to him unless you promise to behave.”

“I’m twenty-five, Nesta,” Elain said, “I know how to behave in social situations.”

Nesta fixed her with a signature unamused glare just as Lucien spoke up.

“Does that mean no magic tricks?” He leaned in into Elain. “I practiced and everything.”

“Absolutely not.” Nesta gaped at him.

Elain barely managed to hold back her grin. “Oh, but he’s actually really good, Nesta. Doesn’t even need an assistant or anything.”

That got a warning finger waggled in both of their faces.

“Absolutely no shenanigans,” she said, “do I made myself clear?”

A spare glance at Lucien told Elain he was trying, and failing to appear chastened.

“We’ll go occupy ourselves,” Elain said, “don’t worry so much.”

That was probably the last thing Nesta wanted to hear.  But Elain only smiled brightly and grabbed Lucien’s hand, pulling him with her.

“We’ll be over here!”

“Not doing magic.”

Elain smacked Lucien on the chest.  He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“Behave!” Nesta hissed.  She spun on her heel to return to Thomas’ side where he was regaling his boss with what must have been a truly miserable story about the lint stuck to his tie.

“C’mon,” Elain said, one hand still gripping Lucien’s. “I think there’s an open bar.”

Together, they slipped through the throngs of people that continued to arrive.  Elain recognized a few from various parties she’d been forced to attend on other occasions.  How she’d gained such notoriety for herself was a bit concerning.  Both for her sake and Nesta’s, seeing as how Nesta would insist on determining a contingency plan to explain Elain’s antics to whoever may listen.

 The plan would have to explain away Lucien now too as Elain was forced to introduce her boyfriend over and over.  

After nearly fifteen minutes of socializing with people Elain barely even knew--they managed to break free to the tables standing at the ready for a casual setting of drinks and hor-d'oeuvres brought around by waitstaff in black and white uniforms.

“Why don’t you get a table,” Lucien suggested, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.

She watched him as he disappeared into the small crowd near the bar.  It was strange being here with him.  Having him as her date and acting like this was the most normal thing to occur.  She didn’t really understand why he’d agreed to this plan—helping her.  Well, if only to swindle another date out of her.  But this certainly was an elaborate way to get what he wanted.

She managed to find a few open chairs at a back table, not that she minded.  To have a little bit of isolation away from the awkward small talk of Thomas’ company was preferable.

Though, just as she moved to go claim the seats, a hand grabbed her elbow.  Elain spun around to come face to face with the one person she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Grayson,” Elain said, trying her best not to appear utterly taken aback by his appearance.  She’d known he was going to be here.  Had planned for it really, she’d just hoped he wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to her.

They’d dated for a year, the relationship ending only a few months ago now.  Nesta had introduced them at an event just like this.  Grayson worked in just one department over from Thomas.  It was the perfect situation, Nesta had insisted, and Grayson had always been a respectable prospect.  

But everything promptly fell apart when Elain had suggested going back to get her master’s and maybe even doctorate.  The news hadn’t settled well with Grayson who only wanted a perfect nuclear family and a perfect wife to be waiting for him at home.

She drew away from him even as he tried stepping in closer.

“Elain, it’s good to see you.” Grayson had a standard profile, nothing truly remarkable in his looks, though he did have a good nose.  His brown hair was neatly styled back, cut in a perfect standard haircut. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“I’m supporting my sister and her fiance,” Elain said.  

She’d spent the better part of the last few months not necessarily getting over him—rather the way he made her feel.  She hadn’t been happy with the thought of simply coming home and doing nothing with her life.  While she wanted a family and wanted kids, she knew there was more she wanted to do with her life first.  Grayson had tried to make her regret all those things.  He’d stifled her, guilted her, done all the things that made her question who she really was.

There had been enough time wasted over him that she wasn’t interested in wasting even more.

She tried slipping past him. “I should go, I have—”

Grayson was too quick for her.  He stepped in front of her again, hand already reaching for her.

“We should talk, get caught up,” he insisted.

Elain could only stare.  He’d been so insistent about a clean break that he hadn’t even bothered to return any of the things she’d left at his apartment.  Only to pop up in her DMs a few months later to “check-up.”  She didn’t need this.  Or want this.

“No,” she said.  “You don’t actually want that, Gray.  And I certainly don’t.”

The grip on her arm tightened as a dark look flashed in his pale eyes.  He’d never liked being told no.  Some would say that was what made him good at his job.  Elain would say that was the real reason why she was happy with their break-up.

“Everything alright, Elain?”

Never had that voice sent so much relief spiraling through her.  Behind Grayson, Lucien had returned, drinks in hand.  But he wasn’t looking at Elain.  His attention rested solely on Grayson who slowly turned to assess the new arrival.

To Grayson’s credit, he didn’t balk at the sight of Lucien.  Even though Lucien was several inches taller with a stronger build.  Grayson had always been on the leaner side.  But with the dark look in his eyes and the way he stood, nearly towering over the bother of them—Lucien was not someone to be easily ignored.

“She’s fine,” Grayson answered before Elain had the chance.

Lucien quirked a single eyebrow and finally looked at Elain.  He still had that hard look in his eyes, but Elain knew that razor thin line between anger and control had nothing to do with her.

“Is everything alright, Elain?” he asked again.

“Fine,” Elain replied, rather proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “I was just telling Grayson that you were waiting for me.”

This time as Elain pulled away, Grayson let her go.  She was able to skirt around him and to Lucien without any fanfare.  As it was, they’d drawn a few eyes of other attendees.

“Elain,” Grayson began.  But Elain had no desire to hear what else he had to say.

“My boyfriend and I were leaving,” she said promptly.

Then with a bit more force than she intended, she managed to drag Lucien away from the growing scene.  It was a shame, she really wanted to dance at least a little bit.

She didn’t stop until they were through a small side door that led out into an empty hallway.  It was blissfully quiet and several degrees cooler than in the event room.  

“That,’ she said, “was just what I wanted to avoid.”

Lucien said nothing, only handing her a glass of champagne.  Elain accepted it gratefully.  While she’d never much cared for the taste, she needed something that would maybe settle her nerves.  Because everything inside of her was feeling spun on its head.

After she drowned the first glass, Lucien held out the second which she took too.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked again.  He didn’t try to reach out to her or comfort her in any other way.  Which Elain was grateful for.  The adrenaline still snapping through her would likely have made her do something stupid.

“Yeah,” she said.  She took another sip of champagne before shaking her head. “He’s just an ass and I should have done a better job at avoiding him.”

“Ex?” he confirmed.

“I didn’t even like him that much,” Elain admitted.  

She took a step down the blackened hallway that had only one emergency light burning in the distance.  A sheer glass wall looked out into a small garden walkway between two different parts of the center.  Most of the foliage was beginning to bloom with bright green leaves dancing in a small breeze that rustled outside.

Elain turned back to Lucien and smiled softly. “Sorry.  I promised an easy night out, not stacked with drama.  Thank-you though, for showing up when you did.”

“What are fake boyfriends for?” Lucien joked, returning her smile. “Did you know he’d be here?”

“I figured,” Elain said, “Nesta had Thomas introduce us.  And It was fine for a while…until it wasn’t.  I think she was going to try and set me up with him again tonight, just so I wouldn’t show up alone.”

Elain smiled softly.  She didn’t blame her sister, not really.  She hadn’t told anyone except Vassa the real reason behind her and Gray’s break-up.  She just didn’t think Nesta would understand.  Her sister had always had so much control over her own life that Elain felt if she admitted to her own insecurities…it would almost be a failure in and of itself.

“And I didn’t want that,” Elain said.  She set the second champagne glass down on a side table that had been left out in the hall. And then because it seemed like the best thing to do, she apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

“Elain,” Lucien said, stepping towards her. “You have nothing to apologize for.  Hell, you got roped into this whole night against your will.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with Nesta,” Elain said with a wane smile.  “I know she just wants this to be a good night for Thomas and she’s doing her best but…”

Lucien didn’t let her finish her sentence.  He took her hand in one of his large ones, immediately engulfing her in warmth.

 “C’mon.”

He began pulling her down the hall, away from the party.

“What?  Where are we going?” Elain asked.

Lucien only flashed a mischievous smile, the overhead lights catching in the deep umber of his eyes.  He led them to an emergency exit that took them outside to the cool night air.  After the stress of running into Grayson, the fresh air felt wonderful to Elain.  Even if the overhead clouds threatened rain, she loved the feeling of being outside.

After a few yards they reached the valet stand once again.  The same workers as before eyed them with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“We’ll need our car back,” Lucien informed them, passing a tip over as he spoke.  He then turned to Elain. “Wait here, I’ll get your coat.  I’d rather not have Vassa plot my murder.”

He shucked off his own jacket in the meantime and draped it over her shoulders before dashing off back to the event center.  Elain could only stare after him.  Was he seriously suggesting they leave early?  Elain could already picture the face Nesta would be making once she realized they were gone.  And the texts she’d receive.

But she knew even if she’d tried to object to Lucien, he would ignore her and insist playing a little hooky never hurt anyone.  It wasn’t long at all when he returned with her coat.

“What are we doing?” Elain asked as they swapped coats back. 

“There’s an ice cream place just down the street,” Lucien said, “best pecan praline in the city.  None of the food in there was interesting anyways, no bacon and no shrimp.  I checked.”

Elain’s sad little car puttered into view, coming to a stop just before them.  The valet got out, holding the door open.

“Ah-ah,” Lucien said, blocking Elain before she could get in. “You had two glasses of champagne.”

“One and a half,” she argued.

“Close enough.” He had the gall to wink at her before escorting her around to the passenger side. “Relax, Elain.”

She scowled at him, but ultimately knew he was right.  She shouldn’t be driving even if she thought she was fine.  Instead, she glared at him the entire time that he got into the driver’s seat and made a big show of adjusting just about everything he could think of.

“Damn, Elain, you’re short.”

“Vassa’s not the only one who can plot a murder you know,” she grumbled.

Not at all concerned by the mild threat, Lucien drove them the short distance to the small ice cream shop he’d mentioned.  Two oversized cups later they were back sitting in the parking lot with the car heater running while they watched the traffic in the distance.

“Nesta’s going to kill me,” Elain mused as she tasted her helping of pecan praline.  Which admittedly was the best she’d ever had.

“Just tell her it’s part of my famous magic act,” Lucien said, “the Now you see me, Now you don’t addition.”

Elain snorted. “Hm, I do always love a good disappearing act.”

“See?  Magic’s not all bad.”

Elain shook her head, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh.  He must have sensed her straining efforts because he nudged her with his elbow.

“It’s alright admitting you were wrong, natural even.” He took a spoonful of his own ice cream--rocky road—and nodded to her. “Though, perfectionist that you are, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m not a perfectionist!” 

“Several hours’ worth of arguing in study rooms suggest otherwise.”

“Saying you’re going to wing it on an assignment worth thirty percent or our grade is irresponsible and ridiculous,” she told him.  A few of their shared assignments had been rather difficult to get through considering both of their different study approaches.  

“I still scored as well as you did,” he reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, Elain ate more ice cream. “But you never hated me?”

The words from earlier still lingered in the back of her mind and with everything else that had happened that night, she hadn’t really been able to puzzle them out.

“No,” Lucien said, “you were never someone I could hate.”

Elain watched him for a moment, considering her words.  She’d never really imagined herself here, eating ice cream while dressed in formal wear with someone she’d once rivaled with.  Someone she hadn’t seen completely.

“I know nothing about basketball,” she informed him, “so that game you’re planning on taking me to could turn into a disaster.  You’ll have to keep me well stocked with garlic fries and lemonade.”

“Whatever you say, Elain.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Thanks for reading y’all I hope you enjoyed it!  I have the vaguest of vague ideas for a nessian spin off, but who knows… anyways, love y’all and Merry Christmas <3

Tumblr is still throwing fits about my tag lists and I can’t do an extended tag list of people.  So, if you’d reblog I would really appreciate it! 

[screamintoad]

Winter Cold

A/n: So Ace x Rory is canon now, we will be forgetting the dark ages of his beginning thank you very much

Ace lends Rory his hoodie and they both have an “Oh.” moment

  Winter has made its blustery cold appearance at Night Raven College and Rory couldn’t hate it more. Usually he would love the cold as he could bundle up in large hoodies and sweaters but, here, he doesn’t have his usual clothes. Or proper heating. So now, Rory is walking around campus and trying to maintain any heat he could with his school jacket tightly wrapped around him.

  He was wrapped up in his thoughts about how to get Crowley to install a proper heater into Ramshackle when he failed to notice Ace quickly turned the corner and ran straight into him.

  The red head scrambled to try and catch the brunette but instead fell with him. They both groaned from the impact, Ace sat up to help Rory. “Should I ask WHY you were running through the halls like a mad man?” Rory reprimanded. Ace held up one of his hands in defense, “I was sent to get groceries by Trey so I wanted to get it done fast. Why were YOU walking and not paying attention?” He grasped Rory’s hand and helped him to his feet.

  “Because I assumed that I wouldn’t have someone run into me.” He replied as he wiped off his jacket. “Why are you wearing the school jacket? It’s freezing out.” Ace wondered. Rory laughed, “Because I don’t have anything else to wear in the cold.” Ace didn’t blink at Rory’s biting tone. “…Sorry.” The other apologized.

  Ace shook his head, “You’re fine.” He pulled his large red hoodie over his head. “What are you doing?! You just commented on how co-“ “Shush. I have another sweatshirt underneath.” With that, Ace pulled his hoodie over Rory’s head and let it sag at his shoulders.

  He grabbed his jacket from his hands and slung it over his shoulders while Rory finished putting it on. “Thank you, it’s pretty warm.” Both the garment and his face were pretty warm. Ace nodded, “Yep, I can’t have you freeze yet. I could fail my classes if you don’t study with me!” 

  The red clothing was already oversized on Ace yet on Rory it seemed even bigger. A couple inches made a big difference.

  Naturally, Rory started walking in the same direction as him. “I’m assuming you want some type of payment? I’ll give it back when we part ways.” Ace shrugged, “Help me carry back the groceries and,” he looked at Rory then quickly darted his eyes down to his hoodie, “keep it until next time…it looks good on you.” He scratched the back of his neck. Rory quirked a brow, “Does it now?” He hid a small smirk. “Red looks good on you!” Ace clarified but his blush wasn’t hiding anything. 

  Rory hid his chuckle behind his hand and.

Oh

Oh.

  Ace grabbed his hand to uncover his mouth, “Stop doing that, don’t cover your face when you’re smiling or laughing. It’s a good thing to be happy and there’s nothing to be ashamed of in letting others see that.” This time neither pulled their hands away as they continued down Main Street.

  All Rory could think was, ‘Oh no.’

Tags: @blood-red-bumblebee @the-rini-rush @moonyasnow @gimmeurmoneyagh @4necdote

@skibidibabygirl @twtysevapr Tell me if you want to be tagged or not!

[veryveryverytemporarily]

So I wrote this ficlet for Christmas then didn't post it because I wanted to add to it, but then the converstaion with Aaron about ghosts made me realize I'd written the same idea haha. So here it is anyway...

‘Oh, Aaron, I was hoping I’d see you. Can I have a word? Not here, outside?’

There was something about her eyes, so he’d put back the mince pies he’d been going to buy and followed her into the night.

She’d kept walking until she was out of earshot of customers choosing vegetables, and then she’d turned and looked up at him, face lit by sparkling angels high above them on Main Street.

‘It’s about Christmas.’

‘Did my Mum put you up to this? I’m not joining her for the Dingle dinner this year, I’ve told her that.’

‘No, not your Mum. This is about my Christmas, well, mine, and yours, too.’

She was searching his face, and something about her expression made him suddenly breathless. He took a step backwards, buried his hands in his pockets.

‘So, wh…what then…is it that you want me to babysit Harry? Is it that? ‘Cos you know I will...,’ he could hear a tremor in his voice.

‘No, Aaron, not that.’

Her eyes were like saucers looking back at him and he felt his strength seeping into the night.

‘There’s no easy way of telling you this…,’ she said.

‘Telling me what?’

She reached up and held his sleeve, he could feel his heart blundering around in his chest even before she spoke. Hadn’t he had enough knocks?

But he knew what she was going to say, and when she did speak, her words were just an echo, as if time had splintered and sent him ahead so he opened his mouth…

‘It’s Robert,’ they both spoke in unison.

‘…isn’t it?’ he added weakly, looking down at the glistening black surface of the road where he could see stars reflected.

‘Yes,’ Vic was still holding his sleeve, anchoring him. ‘Robert’s coming home. He’s been released.’

He stood at the top of the drive going down to the Mill. Watching.

He saw his Mum outside wearing dark glasses against the afternoon winter sunshine and a warmer round her wrists. Paddy, calling out to her, wrapped in a red scarf, held Evie’s hand as they made their way over towards the entrance of the Woolpack.

Bundled up in a kid’s fur coat, Evie saw him from the distance, smiled, and waved.

He waved back, then when Chas turned in his direction, he looked away. He had no space in his head for the aggro. Not today.

So, instead he returned to watching the turning at the top of the street. Watching for a taxi.

‘I’ve got a return flight booked to Southampton to bring him back. He said he’d manage on his own, but he’ll be disorientated in the big wide world and I want to make sure he gets here alright,’ Vic had said. ‘I don’t even know how much cash they give them, the discharge grant or something, I read about it on the families forum.’

‘Seventy-six pounds,’ Aaron had stated.

‘And then what? Left to fend for yourself on the street if you haven’t got family?’ Vic observed darkly.

‘Well luckily he’s got you,’ Aaron had answered, swallowing. What he’d wanted to hear her say was ‘And you.’ But he wasn’t Robert’s family anymore, was he? What would Robert want him to be?

His stomach felt hollow. What if Robert didn’t want him around at all?

‘Wendy’s going to have Harry until I’m back,’ Vic went on.

‘Does she know?’

Victoria shook her head with a frown as she focused on extracting a blue shirt from its wrapping, and changed the subject.

‘I got him this, and those boxers, and socks,’ she gestured with her chin, ‘and that sweater and these jeans, do you think they’ll be alright?’

She held the jeans up.

Aaron blinked and nodded.

The wool sweater Vic had got for him was midnight blue. He’d reached out when her back was turned and touched the cuff of it.

Darkness dropped swiftly. In his head, the street was haunted.

Like an ancient battle ground, wraiths, and phantoms: In the haze beneath the fur tree with its fairy lights, Aaron could see them.

Finn for one, hair combed and neatly dressed with his cupid’s bow pout, popping over to the Wooly for a pint of Christmas sherry.

Jackson waiting by the bus stop, raising a can of beer to his mouth, still asking the eternal question - Did you love me?

And there was Gerry; goofing about, trailing along behind him as he went out running - but no, he mustn’t think of Gerry because that would make him think of Liv. And thinking of Liv was impossible.

He straightened his back.

A way behind him a door opened and lit the drive so he could see his shadow on the sparkly tarmac appear and disappear again. He heard footsteps and boyish voices, and then Suni and Nicky passed him with a courteous but cautious evening, and close behind them Ethan, who stopped, eyelashes fluttering over shining cheeks.

He had to admit that he’d been flirting. Now he felt incredulous. One day he’d apologize, but not tonight.

Ethan was talking but he’d had to say pardon because he hadn’t been listening.

‘It’s Suni’s first venture out since, well, you know. We’re taking him for a pint; do you want to join us?’

‘No,’ Aaron answered abruptly, and then added, ‘Thanks but, no, anyway.’

‘Oh, well, have a good night then,’ Ethan replied.

Aaron hardly registered his confused frown as he walked on. None of it mattered, he was deleting his recent past, like scrubbing out lines in a badly written text.

He was looking to his real past; all the memories; a heady treasure trove full to overflowing, lost but maybe if wishes could come true, he might hunt it out and unlock it all over again - and x marking the spot was a small cottage on Main Street.

As if on cue the full beam of headlights rounded the corner and a taxi crawled into the street and slowed to a stop, engine turning.

He reeled forward, his heart erratic.

But then Suni, Nicky and Ethan appeared again and he realized his mistake.

He stroked a hand down his face and tried to calm his breathing as the taxi reversed accompanied by the sound of receding laughter, and left him to the silence and the ghosts.

And then in his pocket his phone buzzed. Vic leaving a text.

I thought you’d be here. We’ve been back ages.

He’d been trying on the clothes and his long pale fingers were pulling down the hem of the sweater over his midriff, when Aaron stepped in over the threshold.

His skin was ghostly white, his cheeks hallow. His hair was long and he’d got some sort of beard going on. For a moment it was hard to reconcile this man with the image he’d been carrying round in his head of the husband he’d lost.

But his eyes; grey -green like the sea at Filey on a blustery spring day, staring back at him like he would sweep away all his defenses, his eyes were all Robert.

And it took all his strength not to reach out and hold him, like a possession: His possession. His man; his only man, finally here in front of him.

[nadinediary]

Corporate Fashion with 𝒩adine.

As of the beginning of 2023, I got promoted to coordinator at my job, making me a full-time corporate girlie. I wanted to share some fashion tips and advice for my other entry-level girls who are new to the corporate workplace. To begin, Looking at your workplace guidelines on work attire is important. My agency is lenient, not having restrictions on footwear or colours, so keep that in mind throughout the post. I’ll provide reference photos (the images aren’t mine).

Beauty

Most corporate occupations have this silent rule that women have to wear makeup. Fortunately, that isn't the case at my place of work. I wear makeup to work because I want to. I like to keep my makeup simple and light.

I don't wear foundation, but I do use concealer for my hyperpigmentation. I apply it under my eyes, on the corners of my mouth and any acne scars. For my brows, I like to keep my natural brow shape, just lightly filling in and brushing them. For blush, I use cream on my cheeks and nose bridge.

I have dark skin, so most brown lip liners aren’t dark enough for me, so I use a combination of black and brown liners paired with a sheer pink gloss. I finish off my makeup, highlighting my nose and cheekbones. I've made it a part of my beauty routine to get my lashes done, and I usually go with a cat hybrid set.

I used to have long, stiletto French nails, but lately, I've been learning the guitar, so I've kept my nails short with red gel polish.

As for hair I almost always have my hair in protective styles most notably cornrows, but when my hair is out of braids I have it in a low bun. I’ve recently bought a kinky straight wig that I’ve cut and customised similarly to the reference photo, and I’m so in love with it.

Basics

From satin blouses to pencil skirts, the basics include all the trusty fashion essentials for the office. Sticking to neutral when working in a corporate workspace is always safe. If you love colours like me, I’d advise you to include coloured pieces such as turtlenecks, blouses or scarves to brighten your outfit.

As for inspiration, I think you can’t go wrong with a matching set. My favourite set is a white waistcoat paired with a long pencil skirt; I also have a similar waistcoat and pants set in grey. I wear slip-on loafers during warmer weather, and during cooler temperatures, I will wear boots and a turtleneck underneath the waistcoat or a trench coat.

Dressing for the Weather

Regarding weather, for winter, you can switch out your summer blouses and linen shirts for high-neck tops, turtlenecks and knit sweater vests to layer. I'm Australian, so our winters can feel much colder. Therefore I usually wear tweed blazers and coats. I own three trench coats for work; one in black, one in beige and the other in white; I rotate between the three.

I suggest having neutral-coloured outerwear so you can reuse and style them with more pieces. I have a stereotypical girly style so I love tweed sets paired with stockings and a nice pair of boots or heels when the weather gets cold.

As for Summer, I like to focus on the fabric of the pieces I own, prioritising breathable and lightweight textures such as; cotton, linen, silk or satin. Pairing my tops with loose-fitted, lightweight pants and silk skirts. You can throw on a blazer when it's feeling a bit cooler. It’s important to learn how to style your body type, I'm a pear shape, so I have wider hips with a smaller upper body and waist. I like showing my figure, so I usually wear fitted high-waisted trousers, shorts and skirts.

Accessories & Essentials

I love my loafers; as previously mentioned, I wear slip-on loafers during warmer weather, but for those who have to wear heels for work, you can never go wrong with a sturdy pair of sling-back heels. I like shopping for my work shoes at Charles and Keith; they are affordable and good quality.

I've recently switched from a shoulder bag to a backpack for my back health; I previously used a Burberry shoulder bag, but I've since switched to an Ecosusi women's vintage backpack in black.

I’m a maximalist to the core although I like to keep my jewellery minimal for work, My staples are some thick gold hoops, my Casio gold watch and my gold cross necklace, which I pair with a few rings and bracelets, that’s all.

Good luck to all my corporate baddies and nine-to-five girlies.

Sincerely,

𝒩adine.

[erinarigby]

thank you for the tag @bambi-kinos !

Favorite Movie: ferris bueller’s day off and half of it is because of the chicago art institute scene. perfect blue because its just an amazing psychological horror

Favorite TV Show: revolutionary girl utena, took me almost 2 years to finish but i love the aesthetics, the art, the music, the themes and everything, i pretty much can gush endlessly about it

Favorite Musical Artists: siouxsie and the banshees, talking heads, the clash, the doors, franz ferdinand, depeche mode and a lot more

Favorite Color: red & green, I mostly lean towards cool colors but I love red, especially more cool and dark shades

Favorite Season: spring. fall is extended summer and even hotter than summer here, i can barely handle the cold even when our winters are mild and it rains a lot which none of our infrastructure is prepared for especially if it’s heavy storms. spring has the perfect temperatures to wear either a sweater or t-shirt without overheating or freezing.

Favorite Book: The color purple, I honestly need to make it a goal to read more but this is a book i’ve read recently which I absolutely loved.

Do you have any Funko Pops?: Yes, gifts from my dad which I plan to get rid of eventually

Do you play any instruments: Nope, wish I did. I want to learn guitar.

Do you have any pets?: Had a pet dog when I was 1 but I have pretty much no memories, I have a mild allergy to both dogs and cats but I hope to own two cats in the future

Do you read or write Fanfiction?: yes, I write maybe like once a month and they’re mostly just roleplay adapted into fics. I read but not too frequently.

What song(s) have you had on repeat repeatedly?:

i’m tagging @sleeper9 and @lord-pain !