#would we even go. the only place i can imagine is my grandparents house which is SO fucking small but god its better than nothing

[realness-remade]

sorry for venting on main its just so much to deal with

[delewlew]

i think the world of you: lando norris x black fem! reader

request: can i request something of the lines of love at first sight & ready to immediately pop out a ring with lando norris but the reader is kind of oblivious, thank you 🫶

tags: childhood friends to lovers, fluff

warnings: swearing, crying, slight angst?

author's note: my first request! thank you so much anon for sending me this lovely ask. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it for you <3

"y/n, sweetheart we have something to tell you." the sparkle of joy behind your mother's eyes made you kick your legs under the table in excitement. you imagined what the surprise was, already trying to figure out how to celebrate your parents finally allowing you to get a puppy. the small yorkshire terrier puppy you'd seen at the pet store came to mind as you mentally rattled off names you'd thought of just in case. however, all of that disappeared from your brain when you heard your father say, "you're going to begin year 5 at a new school this year." the excitement in your face faded and your mouth went dry and pools of thick tears welled beneath your eyes. as if that wasn't a bad enough statement, your father continued, "and you'll be living with your grandparents! it'll be like when you go on holiday to visit them in the summer." the world around you stilled and for a solid three minutes you said nothing, the tears spilling from your eyes spoke for themselves.

the smile faded from your mother's face and she tried to console you, "sweetheart this is a great thing!" you swatted her hand off of your shoulder and shifted away from her, "no it's not. a great thing would be a puppy, not a new school. i don't want to live with grandma and grandpa i want to live here. there's nothing out there, it's kilometers on kilometers of grass!" your father chimed in trying his hand at explaining, "princess, this is for your own good. you just told us last night that your classes were to easy. your teachers have told us this new school will challenge you and it will be more fun! you even get to live at the school once you start year 9. isn't that amazing?" if you could have screamed and let out every cuss word in the book while living to tell the tale, you would have. instead you just sobbed harder, your parents tried to reason, "your grandparents have a dog too." but that only resulted in you running off to your room and crying yourself to sleep hoping that maybe they'd take pity and let you stay home.

you didn't get to stay home.

the entire ride out to your grandparents home was completely silent as you watched the large expanse of green leafed trees and bright grass for nearly 3 hours. now, your grandparents home wasn't entirely awful. for starters it was a georgian style manor house that sat a considerable distance away from neighbors which meant it was much quieter than your old london flat with your parents. the interior reminded you of the museums you visited for school trips by the amount of paintings that hung on the walls. the only difference was that instead of portraits of fair skinned women with flowing straight hair, these were paintings of women with rich dark brown skin that glowed when the sun shone through the windows. the entire home smelled of lavender from the countless rows of soft purple springs that bloomed around the perimeter of the home. the highlight of the move was getting your own bedroom that was nearly triple the size of yours back home. the first few nights you felt swallowed by what seemed like an endless sea of darkness rather than a new bedroom, but eventually you'd grown accustomed to the space. the last few days of summer break were spent running around the backyard with your grandmother watching you chase their old dog around until he grew tired and simply laid in the grass and you decided to cloud watch beside him.

when the first day of school finally came you had yet to grow an interest in the place. the building looked slightly similar to your old school which brought a slight sense of comfort. but that feeling was gone the moment your grandfather walked you inside and entered the school office. the headmaster was waiting for you with a boy who was a few inches shorter than you with light brown hair and a few moles dotted across his face stood beside the tall man. the boy's blue eyes were locked on you, looking you over with a kind of interest that exists for new kids being welcomed into a new place. the headmaster cleared his throat and greeted you, "good morning young lady, i am headmaster smith. we are happy to have you join us here at Millfield school. to help you become aquainted with the school we're pairing you up with another student who will show you around. unfortunately our female student has become sick so you will be assigned to lando instead." the man spoke for longer but you didn't listen to a single word, instead all of your attention was on the shorter boy.

the silence between you and lando was deafening, almost as if you were having a staring contest. you took the opportunity to turn it into exactly that, locking eyes with his. for a moment he seemed unaware of your challenge until he narrowed his eyes indicating that he caught on. a minute passed and your gaze was unwavering whereas his began to falter, eyes welling with tears until he finally caved and blinked causing you to smile for the first time that morning. his smile was big and toothy, like a kid who'd just grown in his adult teeth and his face hadn't quite grown into the change just yet. the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink when you finally introduced yourself once you'd been dismissed into the hallway, and to class.

from that day forward you only blossomed in school from being extremely shy and reserved to being slightly more social with those in your class. for all of year 5 your tablemate was lando and you'd become quite close, best friends even.

rather quickly you realized a distinct difference between the two of you when it came to your studies. you worked hard and earned good marks while his attention wavered and his marks showed it too. when he was called on to read out loud he stumbled over his words and paused often, earning giggles from classmates that made him sink back into his chair and want to disappear. not one maths equation made any sense to him especially fractions because why the fuck would you need 'number parts' when whole numbers exist. when people laughed at him and teasingly taunted in singsong tones that he liked you, he'd turn his back to you and pretend you were strangers.

lando realized you were different from your classmates as well. when they laughed at him for misreading a text, you whispered the text along with him so he could recover quickly. when he didn't remember how to spell a word on those weekly spelling quizzes, you slid your paper to show him the answers. when he whined about not getting the maths homework, you realized he could understand fractions by drawing pizzas and dividing them into slices on his papers. when your classmates and his friends teased you both for being best friends with the opposite gender, you threw a punch that landed a kid in the nurses office and promised the other kids they were next if they ever teased you or lando again...they never did.

on weekends he was off karting which you'd learned about fairly quickly after getting to know him. he begged you to come to one race just so he could show off how good of a driver he was after you insisted he had to be bad, as a joke of course. however, the races overlapped with the days you'd spend back in london with your parents. on those days you watched what lando called "grand prix races" on sunday mornings with your father. your best friend told you he'd one day drive one of those big cars instead of the karts he drove on weekends. there were odd weekends where neither of you were away and those you spent at each other's houses. when he was at your house you both ran around barefoot in the soft grass, lavender wafting throughout the yard. when you grew tired of playing he laid his head in your lap and demanded you read him a book because he 'liked the way you said the words on the page' more than when he did. not even three chapters into the book he'd doze off on your lap, only to be woken up with small white dandelion's in his hair. on the days you went to his house, he'd show you his karts and watched in interest as you asked about every single detail until you ran out of questions.

these were the years that you cherished most in your childhood, long before worries of university or breaking into formula one. but those days arrived and you found yourself watching his races alongside his family on the days your parents allowed. he always seemed to drive a little better knowing you were watching him, yet he wasn't exactly sure if you knew that to be true. countless pictures hung on your bedroom wall of the two of you after one of his races or after you'd won a medal in whatever club sport you'd ventured into that season. academic and athletic certificates and ribbons littered your desk while trophies were on his.

by the time you were both nearing the end of secondary school lando left school to pursue racing more seriously. you'd been the most supportive of his friends when hearing about the change, yet another reason why he cherished the friendship you two had even more...even if he wished it actually was more. you kept in contact with him but watching him race in person had long been left in your childhood years. all of your life revolved around getting accepted into a good university yet you still tuned in every race online to see his results. however, by the time you enrolled in university and lando began in formula 2, contact had dissolved completely.

years passed and lando had broke into formula one while you'd successfully graduated university and earned a spot as an asset finance associate in one of the most prestigious investment banking companies in the world. every once in a blue moon you wondered what your old friend was up to which led to tuning into a race or two, holding your breath and clutching your heart every time something seemed risky. you'd seen some videos and pictures of him clubbing in whatever city he ended up in. drink in one hand and another on the waist of some woman with a shade of blonde or brown hair that fell over her shoulders in perfectly messy waves. those nights you'd just throw your phone to the side, not wanting to let him occupy more of the time you'd already given him.

what you didn't know was that his mind always found it's way back to you on those hot summer days that reminded him of his childhood. he'd found your instagram years ago and saved the username in his notes so he didn't have to risk getting blocked if he followed you because in his eyes you might hate him. he debated on messaging you through DMs but always shied away from it remembering that time you'd called it a tacky move back in high school. he only hoped that maybe you'd cross paths and then he could have a chance to see you again. however, there wasn't much of a chance that would happen...until it did.

you looked over yourself in the mirror of your apartment, the orange tweed set with a matching blazer was the center of your attention. the company you worked for was an official sponsor of the mclaren formula one racing team, and tonight was the annual charity gala. for two years you managed to conveniently miss out on the event due to getting sick and having to visit your grandparents back to back years. but this time everyone was well, so you had to attend, no exceptions.

the minute you walked through the doors of the ballroom you made a beeline to the first person you recognized, allowing no time to potentially be approached by your old friend. for the entire night you could feel his looming presence in the building and it made you want to vomit. seeing lando wouldn't be bad and you kind of wanted to see him, what you didn't want was to see some pretty blonde girl on his arm expecting an explanation as to why he knew you. part of you didn't know why that was, but you decided it was because you didn't want him to pretend you were strangers, or admit that he genuinely didn't remember who you were.

an orchestra played soft classical music in the corner of the ballroom and you managed to duck away to the bar on the furthest side from the largest crowd of tables. you mindlessly tried to guess the composer of the classical piece while the bartender handed you a drink. a small tap on the back of your arm drew your attention behind you, and the sight nearly knocked the wind from your chest.

lando stood before you in a black suit with his white collared shirt unbuttoned at the very top. that same toothy smile you remembered from your childhood spread across his face, "y/n?" you were silent for a moment before taking a swig of your drink and responding, "lando, hi. what are- what are you doing here?" you rose to your feet and he hesitated slightly before allowing you to pull him in for a hug that he reciprocated. this hand rest on the small of your back while your arms looped around his neck very briefly until you realized the way this may look to someone watching the two of you. he laughed lightly and said, "i'm driving for mclaren, as a formula one driver now." you leaned back against the bar and sat back in your stool allowing him to sit beside you. it was now that you got a good look at him and god have mercy was he finer in person which you didn't think was possible.

those blue green eyes that stared into yours on that first day of school were brighter than you'd ever seen. his skin was tanned as if he'd just been at the beach all day before coming to the event tonight. his messy brown hair had grown longer into cinnamon toned curls that fell perfectly right above his forehead. he looked at you through thick brown lashes as he took in the sight of your matured face. no longer did you have those puffy baby cheeks that reminded him of a chipmunks, but now a more structured face that matched the rest of you.

he requested a water with lemon and you asked, "going easy tonight?" he shrugged and answered with a smirk, "i guess you could say so. how else would i look after you?" you laughed and replied casually, "i think we both know i can handle myself." he shrugged and answered, "yeah but it's what we do right? the BFP." he spoke the acronym out to where it sounded like 'Be-Fip' which made you set down your drink to throw your head back with laughter. you agreed, "oh yeah the Best Friend Pact- how old were we back then?" with a quickness you could only raise an eyebrow at lando answered, "nine.' there was a pause and he continued, "we made it after that time i realized you lied when you said you liked my new trainers." you burst into laughter again at the memory of those ugly ass neon yellow trainers he'd gotten after saving up his own money from a month of chores. you shook your head, "to this day those are still the ugliest thing you've worn." lando asked with a hint of teasing arrogance in his voice, "you've been keeping tabs on me?" you shrugged and took another sip of your drink before bumping his shoulder, "congratulations on miami." he thanked you and for a moment you saw a glimpse of your old friend, the one that came before all of this additional luxury for him.

the entire night the two of you talked about the current happenings in your life. hours flew by and eventually the gala ended meaning you both had to part ways. you pulled him into one last hug and he looked at you, "this time we're not losing contact. i swear i'll blow your phone up until you reply...in the most socially acceptable way possible of course." you agreed and hugged once more before he sent you home in a car he'd ordered for you.

months passed and you two did keep your word, you remained in touch constantly. a few texts here and there turned into a few times a week, then a day, which led to calls and facetimes which lead to accepting an invite to one race. slowly your presence in his life increased, you continued to hang out as friends, getting to know his small circle when they happened to be around. you noticed the way they glanced between you and lando, the way they whispered in dutch, french, and english which had you fully convinced they hated you. but based on the fact that their girlfriends were all friendly to you, maybe they just tolerated you for lando's sake? these days reminded you of the old ones, you finally had your best friend back.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

you looked out to where the sky met the sea, shades of tangerine and flamingo pink blurred into one another against the horizon with thin wispy clouds floating on the surface. the glittering water of the sea shimmered under the golden sun turning it a deep sapphire blue that bled into a shiny obsidian. you inhaled the warm sea salted air as you held lando's hand in your own to play with his fingers as conversation ebbed and flowed between you both like the waves that lapped on the hull of the yacht. he turned his head to still keep you in his line of vision as he watched you from behind. the long fulani style braids you wore fell behind your shoulders and down your back, the sun made your skin glow to a deep gold dipped in rich bronze that made you look like you'd been kissed by Ra himself.

"i could fall in love like this." the statement made lando sit up, all of his attention on you, "what?" you hummed softly, "yeah, bring a girl here and they'd fall for you a million times over." lando felt that same frustration settle in his mind, he'd been trying for months for you to get the hint that he was in love with you without him having to say it exactly like that. curiously he questioned, "you think so?" you nodded in confirmation, "yeah that girl we met in the club that one night? maddie? magui? she'd love this." lando swore his eye twitched when he heard it but he ignored it.

you scooted back slightly and patted your lap for lando to rest his head in the same spot he always had. the soft brown curls on his head threaded through your fingers as he looked up at you, "do you...love this?" the way your eyes didn't even look down as you replied, "yeah reminds me of the old days we'd run around barefoot in the grass and play with the dog until sunset. instead of going in we'd watch the sky turn different colors and we'd keep running around until my grandma had to drag us inside." lando smiled at the memory and added, "and the next week at school we'd be covered in bites and itching like crazy." you sighed and admitted, "i miss when we were in school together." he looked up at you and asked, "how many spelling and maths answers do you think you gave me?" you playfully smacked his leg remembering that you really did help him cheat his way through secondary school.

lando sighed once more and asked, "do you remember that time you punched that boy Rhys?" he could see the wheels turning in your head as you tried to remember, but the minute you did your eyes lit up and you let out a watery laugh, "oh my god- i do! it was because he kept bullying you and insisting that you were in love with me. you never even stood up for yourself so i decided to do it for you." lando shook his head, "can you blame me? i was a head shorter than everyone and all those kids were double my weight! i didn't stand a chance." to be fair he was completely right on that part, if he'd been the one to throw the punch he would have lost, badly.

you finally looked down at lando and he admitted, "it wasn't a complete lie anyways." when you didn't respond he continued, "they only ever teased me about it because it was true. neville and tommy knew me since we were in nappies, they knew when i was crushing on someone. of course since it was grade 5 they told all the guys about it which is how it ended up that way." again, you remained silent and then laughed, "i know you love me so it's fine." lando's heart stopped and his stomach sank to his feet until you simply hummed, "mmm i love you too." again, it was that stupid silly little careless easygoing tone that reminded him that you weren't picking up on what he'd been putting down for so long. it was when you spoke up that he nearly snapped, "and since i love you i'm telling you now that you need to get that girl's number up and ask her out on a dat-"

"i don't want her! i don't want to go on a date with that girl or any girl that you've sent me on social media. i've met them, and i know people who know them. i don't want them okay?" the outburst caused you to push him off of your lap, scooting inches away leaving space between the two of you. the last thing you ever want to do is upset the people you're close to so you proceeded with caution, "i'm sorry i didn't realize i was being overbearing with it. i didn't ever ask what you wanted...so what do you want lando?"

lando answered, "i want to be with someone i can run barefoot under an oak tree with until we're covered in mosquito bites. i want someone to read to me until i fall asleep, i want someone who will tell me every single detail about their day. i want someone who will insist i let her dance in the rain and complain that she got sick as if i didn't tell her she would, i want someone who will visit my races and ask every single question to an engineer because she genuinely wants to understand what i do. i want someone i can watch the sun change colors with until there's nothing but midnight sky and stars. and if you haven't realized i mean you. i want you, y/n. it's always been you since the day i met you in grade 5 when you came in with those plats and more bows and knockers in your hair than you probably needed and you had a staring contest with me before i even knew your name. i've loved you since you taught yourself about karting from books because you wanted to know what i liked without making me explain it all the time. i've loved you since you threw pudding on amelia's blouse and told her you'd feed her entire family to goblins after she told me i'd never make it into formula one and it was your 3rd day of knowing me. and i know you're thinking it so yes, i'm actually in love with you and no i'm not misunderstanding the way i feel. i think the world of you and there's not a day that goes by where i don't want you around me. it's you and it's always been you and i genuinely don't understand how you've been so oblivious to it all but now you know, and please just promise me that even if you don't love me in that way that we can still be friends because i can't lose you."

slowly you brought your hands up to reach out for him, "c'mere." you pulled him into your arms and he tucked his head into your neck. he basked in the comfort of your embrace, the heat radiating off of your body slowing his racing heartbeat. you pressed a kiss to his temple and breathed out, "okay..." he pulled away with a look of worry that he'd messed everything up but you continued, "no it's not bad. i just- okay. i love you too. you're my favorite person and you always have been, probably always will be unless rihanna comes out with another album then you're bumped to #2. but i love you and i promise you didn't mess anything up because i know what's going through your head. this is just a lot right now and i'm willing to do this- us if we can just take our time. i want this to work and i want to be with you but-" lando cut you off seeing you start to fidget uncomfortably, "it's okay, that's perfect actually...that's perfect." he pulled you back into his arms and kissed your forehead, "it's perfect, you're perfect."

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

the end.

[radioisntdead]

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

[blog-reflection]

ONE / Fourteen A - The Move

Today’s the Day.

I locked around my room, boxes over boxes. I’ve lived in this place for twenty years, can you imagine? This feels strange, but in a good way. We do have a moving company which will take care of the bigger items like my bed and wardrobe. At least that’s what Josepphe told me. He and Thea also managed to get Mildret here. Yes I know you wonder why the fuck is she here and let me tell you, she’s only here for the move, well only to cary the boxes. Joe, Thea and me, neither of us can drive, have a car nor have a licence. And we didn’t want to invest in a bigger van from the moving company so they got her. I honestly think there is a huge amount of money involved but I couldn’t care less. 

Thea and Joe arrived at our house around seven in the morning. We all carried box after box out of my room down the stairs into the hallway. The moving company already picked up the bigger items yesterday so it all wouldn’t be a mess today. Mildret is planned to arrive around nine in the morning. I planned one hour for stuffing everything in the car and two hours for the actual ride. I promised Sarah that we would be in Brighton around lunchtime since she insisted on making lunch for all of us. I don’t know what she is planning but to be honest I’d be fine with some fast food too. But something I learned pretty fast, to not try to convince Sarah if she is really into something. It’s quarter to nine, so Mildret will be around in about fifteen minutes. Most of the boxes have left my room, only three boxes remain which were too heavy for me and Jeo to carry. Joe and I have done an awesome job at caring, while Thea made sure to keep track of us and my plants. Since all of us have finished early we’ve decided to eat a small snack in the kitchen before Mildret arrives. Thea brought some croissants while Joe made some scrambled eggs, meanwhile I made us all coffee. I made more than needed so we can have some for the drip too. Mildret, as expected, did not arrive at nine, so we made some sandwiches for the drive. Some with cheese, some with ham, even some veggie options with avocado. And for the record, I am not a vegetarian. I just try to avoid as much meat as I can. Unlike Lucia, who, as far as I know, is a full on vegetarian. I know that Jesse tried it once too but it didn’t really work out for them. They do tend to prefer the veggie options though, and Charles also provides a veggie option for them with every meal he makes. 

Ten minutes late and Mildret finally sends a Message to Joe, telling she’ll be here in five minutes. Thea, Joe and I went outside since Joe wanted to show me something. It didn’t take long when I spotted an orange van at the horizon. I instantly knew it was the one my grandparents got for the move. Why do I know that? Quite easy. I’ve been dreaming about this for at least 10 years. I always told my grandparents that if I move I want to move in an orange van blasting music for the entire drive. I think the first time I had this thought was around school when everyone was focused on their GCSEs or UCAS applications. The time when everyone in school wants you to get into some sort of university no matter if you want to or not. I remember writing the worst applications since I really didn’t want to go to university. But I also said if I, for whatever reason get forced into a university I want to at least get my stuff there in an orange van. I may not go to university but it’s still  nice to see how much Thea and Joe thought about the move. Mildret parked the car in front of the house and opened the sliding door on the side. 

Mildret: Alright, get everything in here Josepphe: We should get the once from James room first though. All three of us have to carry the boxes since they are too heavy for the two of us Mildret: Ugh, sure.

I could tell that Mildret did not like it. In fact I think she doesn't even want to be here. Her smile is the same as mine when I try to be nice and kind to people I hate. But nonetheless she is, just like me, a good actor. All four of us get up in my room. Milret Jeo and I grab the box and slowly make our way down to the van. We repeated this three times until my room was empty. Mildret and Thea went down to start packing up the rest of the boxes, meanwhile Joe and I were still in my room. I stood in front of the window where my bed used to be.    

James: This is really it huh? I’m leaving this hellhole for good. Josepphe: Think you’ll miss it? James: Nah. I don’t know anyone here, and most of the memories I have are terrible so…I’ll be fine. Josepphe: You think your mom is fine? James: Have you seen her face? She hates seeing me. Being here. Helping *me*. Josepphe: Maybe she moves out too? James: Want my opinion? I don’t care. I don’t plan on seeing it here after I move. I don’t think she will visit me and I am definitely not the one visiting her. She’s not a part of my life anymore. … Sorry that was harsh, I forgot she’s your child Josepphe: She’s not…she’s not like you. Not anymore. But well, let’s go downstairs. Today is about you not your mum right?

We both hugged each other before Joe and I went down. To our surprise, Mildret and Thea taked, like talk talked, like everything is fine. What did I tell you? Good liar. All 4 of us were playing some wish-like tetris real life game to store everything in the van. We filled in spare places with pillows, all plants went on the backseat with Thea and the sandwiches. About one and a half hours later we managed to store everything inside. We secured everything with rubber bands and duct tape before triple checking if we have everything. I spend another fifteen minutes running up and down counting everything in my mind to be 100 percent sure that I don’t need to get here again. Mildret and Thea were already waiting in the van when I had a meltdown outside. That’s when Jeo came around and grabbed me by my shoulder.

Josepphe: I think we’re ready.

He’s right, the more I wait the crazier I get. I jumped into the front row of the van between Mildret and Joe. I connected my phone with the van for some road trip tunes to drive to. Mildret turned on the engine and we started rolling out. I had nothing more to do then flipping off the house and shouting *farewell bitch* towards it before turning up the volume and dancing in pure excitement. 

This is it. This is the last time I see my room, this house and fucking Dover for good. Don’t get me wrong, Dover is a nice place but I needed the change. I danced the entire drive, listened to awesome songs and even Joe was vibing with me. For once in my life we felt like a normal family. Thea handed around some of the sandwiches to us after about one hour of driving. I texted Sarah, as I was supposed to, so she’d start preparing the meal and after another hour we finally made it to the border of Brighton. I screamed the moment we went through the invisible border and started crying. I in fact did not expect to cry but well, most honest reaction I think. We arrived at Sarah's house thirty minutes later, since there was a lot of traffic goin on. We parked in the street and I texted her that we just arrived. I turned down the music and jumped off the van before running towards the door. Sarah was already standing in the doorframe, ready for a huge hug. 

Sarah: Welcome to your new home buddy! James: Stop it I already cried due to excitement. Sarah: Sooo you got helpers I see? Who are they? James: This right there is Mildret, that’s Thea and you already know Josepphe. Sarah: So good to meet y'all. Well your furniture already arrived this morning. Good thing you messaged me where everything needs to be. But before y’all get on work, lunch is ready. James: Already? What did you make? Sarah: Don’t be that impatient, just you wait. Alright, get in everyone!

Sarah collected all of us and brought us into her living room. It’s the same layout my parents and grandparents house has. We all gathered around the table and waited for Sarah to bring in the lunch. Yorkshire Pudding with roast beef, roasted potatoes, carrots, peas and mashed potatoes. Let me tell you, this was a dream. Sarah made a full on dinner for all of us. I expected she’d get some fish and chips but that is way better.

After everyone ate we started getting out every box and storing most of them in the hallway. Joe and Sarah did well and got most of them already up the stairs. I could hear them laughing and smiling, I’m happy they work that well together. Mildret was taking care of my clothes and Thea took care of the plants.

Sarah: Psss James, can you get this upstairs pls? James: Sure no big thing. 

Sarah gave me a big box of pillows, light but impractical to carry. I slowly made my way upstairs and placed the box on the floor.

???: I’ve been wondering when you’d show up.

[distracteddaintydemon]

I understand that is The Dream for many, but I gently ask everyone who tag this as "solarpunk":

is this your vision of year-round whole-life solarpunk housing for everyone or is this a solarpunk dacha for able-bodied people?

All of that is fun and games until you're get chronically ill. Or disabled. Or simply old. Or just even temporary ill.

I'm not going to talk theory here. I'm not going to guilt trip you with my own disability, or call for statistics nor research. Other solarpunk folks can do it, and many already did. Instead, let me tell you about my grandparents: Grandma Sophie, Grandma Vi and Grandpa Ed.

Let's consider Grandma Sophie first. She's 95 and she's in quite a good health for her age. Let's imagine her living in the Solarpunk Tiny House above.

Grandma Sophie uses a walker as an all-time mobility aid. She was using a cane before, but it made her tilt to the side a bit too much. Then it was two canes, then crutches with elbow support, then she grew too weak to stay upright with only one crutch when she needed free hand to do something and tripped few times – thankfully without any injuries – so a walker it is. From what I'm told, it's a fairly normal progression and most folks should actually start using walker much earlier than she did.

Every passage and every doorway in her place needs to be wide enough to accomodate a walker. Would she ever need a wheelchair, a turning radius space will be needed too. She needs an automated orthopedic bed – the kind you're usually seeing in hospitals. She needs a walk-in shower wide enough for her walker, and a handrail(s), and one person to assist her. If there's some kind of step, or there's a bathtub, she needs at least two people to assist her and it's still risky. When Grandma Sophie visits my parents' home, we try to have three people at ready while she baths, just in case. Once she tripped stepping out of bathtub – despite a non-slip mat – and two people assisting her only managed to catch her and yell for more help. Once off-balance, she needed three people to set her vertical again. Not an ideal arrangement for daily living, so walk-in shower with no threshold is really, really preferable.

To be honest, it's really not as bad as it sounds – the bathing thing, I mean. Grandma Sophie is of sound mind, and retained enough of mobility to help her helpers. When Grandma Vi's health deteriorated, she lost most of her body awareness, so when SHE tripped... I imagine it was like deadlifting a sack of kettlebells. Not that I ever attempted such a thing, but aunt bought one of these patient-lift crane things and she still had to call first responders to get Grandma Vi up from the floor. But I digress; the point is, Grandma Sophie with her walker really is quite healthy for her age.

Please, take your time imagining how to fit all of this into a Tiny House. Passages and doorways for a walker and possibly a wheelchair, a wheelchair turning radius, an orthopedic bed, preferably no thresholds, preferably no steps and no floor level differences, walk-in shower, handrails. (Handrails should be mounted on solid walls, which reduces storage options.) Remember, at least one person should live with her and sometimes additional assisting persons are needed, not mentioning occasional guests. They need space to move around Grandma, preferably without playing Human Tetris.

Now, there's stairs to the house in photo, which I understand to be a Tiny Houses standard, both inside and to the porch. Grandma Sophie, being a walker user, cannot take stairs with walker. She needs to:

1) abandon her walker,

2) hang all of her weight on the handrail using hands and upper body strength,

3) move one feet,

4) check on her balance and stability,

5) move the other feet,

6) check on her balance again,

7) shift most of her weight to legs,

8) move hands along handrail

9) and repeat this for every step of the stairs.

(All of this while she still needs someone else to help her, because her walker won't teleport along her.)

If you're an able-bodied person who never broke a leg and never trained as a professional sportsperson, you've probably never experienced this level of physical strain. There are able-bodied people out there, claiming they're climbing rocks as a hobby, they have awesome upper body strength and still using crutches with a broken leg was the most strenous activity they've ever attempted.

(Grandma Sophie has next to zero upper body strength. I'm honestly not sure where she draws the power from when she visits my parents' 4th-story-no-lift apartament. It seems like some kind of Anime Series Final Episode mind-over-matter bullshit and she does it to simply visit her family. Isn't it terrifying.)

At this point you may be thinking "but not everyone is an elderly person with mobility issues, why should it matter for standard housing".

WRONG.

Everyone WILL BE an elderly person with mobility issues. The only condition is not to die young.

Let it sink for a second.

And an another one.

At this point some of you are probably thinking "ok so I'll live in a neat and compact off-grid tiny house and then I'll move to something ADA-compliant when I'll have to".

Which is a fairly normal reasoning. There's a lot of people thinking this way, my past self including. But let me remind you – we're talking solarpunk. It's not an aesthetic of personal escape; gods know we have enough of these in whatever flavor you want. Solarpunk is an attempt to imagine a better future – for everyone, society-wide, planet-wide. Once again then: is this off-grid tiny house really a vision of year-round whole-life solarpunk housing? Or is it a solarpunk dacha?

If your answer is "let's build some accessible housing, maybe a whole residential area here and there, so everyone can move there when they're become old or otherwise disabled"... Then it's not solarpunk, because it's not future. It's present and it's not even working anyway.

First of all, do you want everyone to live most of their lives in places their elderly family and friends cannot even enter? Really? Okay, that seems rather unusual, but I'm sure you have your reasons. I'm ashamed every time I assist Grandma Sophie's climb to my parents' place, even though apartment itself is almost as accessible as her own; maybe it's just me.

Second, if accessible housing is some distinct non-standard subset of housing and standard housing isn't accessible... How do we decide who will live there? Through money? That's how it mostly works now, as far as I know. Through some qualification system? What if there's more people qualifying than available homes? What if there's exactly as much people qualifying as available homes? What if one person, who qualifies, has family members who don't?

Then they proceeded to pretend they're both completely able-bodied and there's no need for any changes, much less proper renovation, thank you very much, for next 30 years. It became a really obvious bullshit at some point, but we loved them and respected their pride. We settled for gradual improvement. Better armchairs, when Grandma Vi had a hip replaced. Better seating in toilet. Little handrail in the bathroom – mostly for Grandpa Ed, since Grandma Vi couldn't get out herself from a bathtub for years and relied entirely on Grandpa Ed. When they agreed for social worker to check in on them on work days and to bring them a warm dish, we all celebrated. We thought maybe we're overdoing it, even. They're independent and proud. They're a team. We'll finally talk them into making a real renovation just in a moment, and in the meantime, they got it.

Well, we know what happens then. We only need to look what happens when affordable housing is some distinct non-standard subset of housing and standard housing isn't affordable.

But let's say all of the housing is affordable and there's plenty of accessible housing among it. Everyone can move into an accessible place as soon as they need to or even before there's any real need. They can even move without changing neighbourhood if they wish so.

Yes. This sounds really good. And it's more or less current reality for people having enough money. For example, enough to buy a house. Or to sell your house and buy another, more accessible one. Or to renovate your house to make it more accessible. Like my Grandma Vi and Grandpa Ed, living in their own small but quite nice apartment.

What's problem then?

Well. They moved in as soon as they retired, still healthy and energetic, to a home designed for healthy and energetic people – I don't think there were any other home designs available then, to be honest – and they decided they will only move or change things when it'll become necessary.

If we knew better... But we didn't.

Grandma Vi called for Grandpa Ed to help her out of a bathtub. Grandpa Ed slipped on splashed water and hurt himself bad enough to need help getting up. She couldn't get out of the tub without him and he couldn't get up from the floor without her. It was Saturday morning, and the social worker wouldn't visit them until Monday afternoon. It was also the middle of a heatwave.

Both of them health deteriorated. Grandpa Ed become bedridden. Neither of them was in shape to take care of the other anymore. We sprinted to renovate their home, ASAP, to full accessibility with a room for living-in caretaker, and in the meantime we put them in elderly care center to nurse them back to health as much as possible. It looked like it could work. Then Grandpa Ed died, before we even finished renovation.

By Monday afternoon they would both be dead. But they were always good neighbours and their closest neighbour, hearing some alarming noises, tried to check on them several times and finally called the alarm number. They were still alive, although barely, when firefighters broke in on Sunday and took them to the hospital. They lived. But they never returned home.

Grandma Vi couldn't return home, because after renovation she couldn't recognize the place. When we pointed to her own furniture or the carefully repainted wall patterns, she'd answer "My furniture, my walls, but not my home. Someone took them and put here. Why? And where are we?" And then, often enough, she'd ask for Grandpa Ed.

Her home did not exist anymore.

She still recognized her family – at least most of us – so we thought keeping her with family would be the second best thing. So one of her daughters bought an entirely new home and remade it to be as elderly-friendly as money could bought, to live in together. But Grandma Vi couldn't quite remember any of these new things. When we asked her how she was, or whether she know where, she answered "I don't know. It's nice here, maybe we're on holiday's leave together? Holidays are nice and all, but I want to go back home."

Considering Grandma Vi's lifelong habit of hiding any and all discomforts to the point of straight-up lies... The fact that she voiced it at all... I think it means she suffered.

It's been some years since they both died. I'm no longer thinking about it every time I hear a word "heatwave". But you bet it changed how I think about accessibility and housing.

[thethoughtofanegg]

I've never felt this helpless before...

I've had my share of helplessness before this, but never this brutal.

It started when he pull hard at our mother's arm, asking to go outside. We don't have anywhere to go that day, so I thought of to let him go with me outside on my motorbike. I don't have any specific that day, so I bring him circling around our neighborhood. I thought after this it will be done, how wrong was I.

He become something akin to an imp, except way bigger and way stronger. I always knew that he's strong, but never have I imagine that he's this strong. I guess he's already a fully grown adult now, I need to stop seeing him as a child. He's pulling and pushing me and our mother especially, because we're the only one who have the capability of bringing him outside our home. Smacking his own head from morning till night, we should've stopped him from doing that. But because he's usually stopped smacking himself if we act like we won't do what he asked, we refrain from stopping it. He's doing this for two whole days, only stopping when he's sleeping which is only for 3 - 4 hours at best. We tried to give him a medication my aunt used in the past and it work for her. But I think it only make it worse. He became more demonlike. My hand sore from him pulling me, my body ache from his punch and kick, my temple hurts when he headbutted my face (It still a little hurt now). The only thing we can do is hold on from his tantrum, and tie his hand so that he can't hurt himself or others around him.

I even have thought that the only way to resolve this is by killing him, and then to kill myself. Of course I will never do that. I won't do anything stupid.

That night I called my father, telling him what had happened. He told me that maybe it's how god tell us to seek for his forgiveness. I know it didn't really help the situation right now, but weirdly it help me knowing that I still have some hope that It will end well in the end.

I thought I could be strong as the older brother that could be depended on to hold my brother down. But it all crumbled when I call my father. It made me realized how helpless I am. And I couldn't hold back my tears during the calls, but I think he didn't notice.

I can't help but think about her in the midst of this. How it would be really nice to be with her. But I know that I can't. I let her know that I wanted to call her.

Thankfully the night my father comeback from work (which is many days after the incident) we search for the medication to calm him down. That night we drove to the hospital and request the medication. We gave him the medication, and thankfully in the next hours he finally have a good rest for about a day.

I feel really sad when I saw his disfigured face in the morning. He really didn't pull back when hitting his own head. We should've brought him to the psychiatric this morning. But all of the doctor is on trip that day, so we cannot go. Luckily there's one tomorrow. So we agreed to let him rest for this whole day.

The next day, we bring him to the psychiatrist, and he gave us the recipe for the medication to use on my brother. We didn't hear much from the psychiatrist, because my brother is rushing us that he wanted to go from this place. Then we go to our grandparents house, and my grandma cries when she sees him. She's really emotional about anything, and I feel her when she cried. We tell her that my brother will be okay, and his face is in the healing process. When we arrived home we see that there's something wrong with my brother, he's always looking up. At first I thought that it was because the medication is still working, and he's just feeling drowsy. But in reality his neck is actually stiff from the medication that we gave him before. It's really sad to see him in this state. His mouth open, and he can only looking up. I was really afraid that I will see him breathe his last breath. Thankfully my father is a doctor, and quickly asked his friend about this. He was told to up the medication dose on the counteragent that was given to us from the psychiatrist before. And slowly the contraction is gone. It's really lucky for us, that we go to the psychiatrist today. If not who knows how long my brother will feel this way.

The next day my father must go outside town to work for the next 5 days again. So I'm the only one who can really hold him back. Thankfully now his face is not as disfigured as before, it still swelling but there's no bruise anymore. Oh and he already ruined our restraining clothes. He still hit his head, but not as often as before. He still asking me to take him somewhere, still demanding but not as demanding as before. He spent his day sleeping or resting these days. Yesterday He can even smile and laugh, I'm so happy for him. I hope he will be better.

That's it for my story for this week. I hope by writing this bottled up feeling for this week, I can finally let myself go from this depressing thought. Thank you to my girlfriend for giving me light to try this whole thing.

[simpforsix]

i am so fed up with how older generations talk about “big world events” because they always talk about things like 9/11 or jfk and say “you’ve never experienced something like that, where you know exactly where you were when it happened”. it shows that they really don’t know how much recent events have impacted my generation. because they don’t remember where they were when they learned about parkland, or when the schools shut down for covid. i do. i know what it feels like to watch the news of people my age being killed in school, to know that the only difference between me and them is the border between countries. my parents and grandparents didn’t grow up with a constant news cycle of tragedy that made them numb and filled them with dread. they didn’t grow up fearing adulthood because the economy is so fucked that they expect to have to skip meals to afford housing. they didn’t grow up with adults telling them that climate change would kill them, that it was their responsibility to make change after being delivered a death sentence. 

i grew up watching the news coverage of 9/11 in school. the news coverage that was handpicked to be the most gruesome, so that we “understood the tragedy”. i watched footage of the people who jumped. their generation was so intent on showing mine how bad it was that they scarred us, telling us we were lucky we didn’t remember it as if we weren’t watching the same footage they had, the same footage that made them remember exactly where they were when they first saw it. the difference is, i don’t remember where i was when i first saw all the grisly footage of world tragedies. because i was a child. they were adults when they processed this news. i was a child learning the tragedies through footage and the digital age, which provided me with countless documentaries explaining things no child should ever know. they learned world events through textbooks. i learned them by looking at the images of corpses on a projector screen.

the biggest difference i’ve seen is the impact of school shootings. i live in canada, but i was still acutely aware of the danger i was in. i couldn’t comprehend gun laws yet, and my schools did lockdown drills and prepared us because the threat looms even here. older generations see these school shootings and see children, some imagining their children. they see something so out of place, something they can’t imagine in a school. they don’t think they’re in danger. i imagine myself and my peers when i learn of a school shooting. i imagine my school. i can’t remember when i first learned of school shootings, but i think it might have been sandy hook when i was nine. i’d done lockdown drills before that, of course. i know what it feels like, to sit in a dark classroom behind your teacher’s desk and hope it’s a drill. to hope that the giggles and whispers of my classmates aren’t too loud in case it isn’t one. to watch the door and try to figure out if you’re in the line of fire, if there’s anything or anyone to hide behind. to hear the door rattle and the jolt of fear it causes. to hear the police outside the door telling you it’s safe, that it was a drill. to go back to your desk and continue the day, because this is just another thing that happens sometimes. at school you get lice pamphlets, report cards, and a couple times a year you sit and cower in the dark to prepare for someone coming into your school to kill you and your classmates. so when i see the news of school shootings, i know exactly what they were doing. i’ve watched videos of how to survive a school shooting, because even though i live in canada that doesn’t mean i’m safe. it’s happened here before, and i know all too well how we can take inspiration from the states. 

(my grade four teacher taught us how to lockdown a classroom if she wasn’t there. she told us to barricade the door, to use our scissors and pencils if that didn’t work. she locked the door when she left the classroom, even if it was just for a minute. she told us it was in case she was in the bathroom during a lockdown. when i got older, i learned there were more reasons a teacher wouldn’t come back during a lockdown. i’d always imagined me and my classmates being the dead. i’d never realized that my teacher being strong wouldn’t protect her, that her strength might kill her.)

i know to run hide fight. every time i put my earphones in to walk around campus, i worry that i might miss hearing the first shots and not know to run. i think about how i would survive. when i was a kid, i used to practice playing dead. i would hold my breath, go limp, and try not to blink, all while wondering how much it would hurt to get shot and how long it would take. i map out where to hide in my classrooms, where to run and hide in the hallways. i think about how i would fight. after years of thinking about how i would fight, i’ve learned that if it came to that i probably wouldn’t win. i would become another picture that circulates the news for a day before being forgotten. i would become another person that people my age imagine themselves as.

growing up was an endless stream of tragedy. it was learning that being a child put me in danger. and i’m tired of older generations telling me that i’m lucky. no, i didn’t witness all the world events that they have. but they didn’t spend their childhood years learning where to hide from a hail of bullets. they pushed their tragedies onto me in the worst ways possible and told me i was lucky i wasn’t alive yet. i was lucky that i learned about jfk by watching the footage of his murder decades afterwards, not by getting a radio broadcast the day of. i was lucky that i watched hours of footage of 9/11 as i learned what suicide and burning alive were as a child, not by seeing it on the news as an adult who had the power to turn it off. so sure, maybe i’m lucky. but i’d say the trade-off is pretty fair.

i wish my experience of world events had been like theirs. i wish they didn’t make me confront a violent death as a child. i wish i could remember a time when i was shocked by human atrocities. 

[passionguavagreentea]

The Glamorization of Hustle Culture

This will be a ramble-filled, multi-blog-post series revolving around hustle culture and its bizarre glamorization.

The Impacts of Hustle Culture on Relationships

I am going to start this off with, I don’t think there are truly any positive impacts to partner-relationships when hustle culture is involved. There, I said it. Would you agree? Maybe some space from your partner or bringing in more income to your relationship would be the few benefits I could think of that could positively impact a relationship. But other than those two, I could not tell you any more. On the other hand, I do believe there could be positive impacts on relationships within your family. For instance, I think working and showing a good work ethic could be inspiring to your children, making you a role model to them. Getting your work done so you can take your kids to beautiful places that they will remember forever, thanks to you and your hard work. Giving your kids a household that is financially stable, and up to par for them. Though there are downsides to these 'positive impacts'; if you are gone all day, and don’t see them until bedtime or only in the morning right before school, they might feel a sense of abandonment or neglect. Could you imagine the words of your four-year-old asking you, “Why aren’t you ever home?” Yeah. Heartbreaking. This in turn could have long-term effects on the child, it could develop into something more severe down the line as they grow older, such as trauma. Being present around your children as they are in their most important developmental stages is crucial to their growth.

When I was a child, growing up my father was (and still is) a hard worker and has the biggest work ethic I’ve ever known someone to have. He runs his business and works seven days a week, all day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him relax unless a huge blizzard outside prevents him from leaving - but even then he will try to find something to do around the house. This caused some issues, for my siblings and I, as we didn’t see my dad nearly as much as a child should when we were growing up. We would go have a family day on Sundays, but other than that he was working, and these family days that we looked forward to eventually sizzled away; part of our past. Hustle culture in a way, took my dad away during those crucial times of my life, and it really caused an impact.

Then of course, it also comes down to the Hispanic culture that he prides himself with. The Hispanic work ethic is possibly one of the strongest out there, they know that in order to make money they need to be working. They cracked the code, right? But the issue is they over work themselves. Why? Could it be due to the completely unfair wage gap that they receive, even though they bust their backs for over 12 hours a day, which in turn drives them to work more hours? Or could it be because they need the money to send to their families from their home country? Here's the other thing that not a lot of people understand from the Spanish culture (and dozens of other cultures too); young adults immigrate to the States and take any job that they can. They then start supporting their family, like their parents and grandparents, siblings, aunts, and everyone, back in the country that they grew up in (fun fact: my dad immigrated to the States when he was 16; he left without notifying his family until they started receiving letters from him months after from Los Angeles).

I have a few stands on this area, I stand by supporting your family by sending them money, but then I've experienced the negative impacts within my family. Having been negatively affected, and this is a tad bit sensitive of a subject, I will hold off on voicing more of my opinion.

It all boils down to the ability to equally split your time to be there for your kids and spouse, as well as to support your family outside of the States. It's a constant and vicious cycle to be stuck in; hustle culture that is. Finding balance, and harmony, and being able to maintain healthy relationships with your family. Hustle culture surrounds and influences us in all different ways. It is said that America is the dream place to reside in, but is working 72 hours a week really the dream?

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.” 

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be. 

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go. 

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays. 

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home. 

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing. 

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids. 

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve. 

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea. 

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy. 

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry. 

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead. 

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone. 

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go. 

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too. 

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again. 

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door. 

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse. 

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub. 

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577. 

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows. 

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see. 

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him. 

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else. 

“Just a pint,” I tell him. 

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her. 

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl. 

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where. 

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head. 

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do. 

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight. 

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1. 

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born. 

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.” 

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly. 

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight. 

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. 

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.  

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention. 

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis. 

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again. 

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle. 

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did… 

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing. 

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle. 

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. 

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk. 

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap. 

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. 

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time. 

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either. 

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window. 

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me. 

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly. 

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it. 

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me. 

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room. 

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly. 

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up. 

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal. 

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life. 

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What? 

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say. 

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.” 

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.” 

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it. 

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me. 

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now. 

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife. 

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk. 

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle. 

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh. 

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer. 

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter. 

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.” 

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head. 

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly. 

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?” 

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm. 

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.” 

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards. 

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses. 

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her. 

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. 

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door. 

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week. 

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating. 

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside. 

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed. 

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously. 

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.” 

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll. 

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me. 

-

Read part II here!

[hangovercurse]

Home Sweet Home

You bring Colson to your hometown for the first time.

Request: “Can you write a Colson imagine where you take him back to your hometown to meet your family and friends and he’s nervous everyone will hate him but everyone ends up loving him? And maybe include a run in with some girls from high school that are jealous 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I try to be as inclusive as possible in my fics but its hard when writing about families in this capacity, so I just went with the most generic family model possible. Also, my family is very unusual so I don’t really know how families interact… oop

Word Count: 2979

“Will you stop freaking out, you’re making me nervous.” You placed a soft hand on the shaking leg of your boyfriend. “And they’re my family.”

He let out a sigh, the shaking stopping momentarily as he pulled you as close to him as possible in the back of your Uber. “What if your parents hate me?”  

Taking a deep breath, you assured him again, “my parents are not going to hate you. We’ve been over this; they’re going to love you.”

“Your dad is going to take one look at me and punch me in the face.” Colson said, a pout on his face.

You let out a chuckle, “he is not. And even if he does, you can take a punch.”

Despite your laughter, Colson remained stoic, “I’m serious Y/N, dads hate me. I look like everything you’d want your daughter to avoid.”

A sigh left your lips at his admittance of insecurity. “Babe listen to me, please. My parents are going to love you because I love you. And if they don’t then tough shit because you’re not going anywhere.”

He nodded, but you could still see the worry behind his eyes. “I just really want them to like me. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

You smiled at the comment, heart fluttering. “I’m in love with you.”

He looked at you deeply, a smile falling onto his lips, “and I’m in love with you, princess.” His lips pressed a small kiss against the crown of your head and rested there until the car pulled up to your childhood home. You felt your boyfriend tense up beside you, so you reached for his arm that was around your middle, rubbing soft shapes through the sleeves.

“I’m gonna be right next to you the whole night.” You told him as you moved to open the door, breathing in the refreshing air. LA was lovely, but it was nice to be able to breathe properly in your hometown.

Colson grabbed your bags out of the trunk, even though you insisted you could help. “Go say hi to your family, babe. I got it.”

You pressed a small kiss to his cheek, whispering a small “see you inside” before rushing to the familiar front door. Years of memories lie beyond its wood, memories you were excited to relive.

Knowing your family would keep it unlocked for you, you turned the knob and pushed the door open. The smell of your family’s cooking filled your nose, and immediately members of your family found you.

“Y/N!” Your younger cousins screamed, racing over to you to hug you. The last time you’d seen them they were 5 and 7, now they were 8 and 10.

“You guys have gotten so big! Did you drink some sort of magic potion or something?” You asked, a smile on your face.

Your mom had told you that she and your father would be cooking, but you didn’t think they’d invited your entire family. Although, you should have assumed they would given how close your family was.

Once your cousins let go of you, you turned around to see Colson waving off the Uber driver and making his way to the door. You turned to your younger cousins once he got close enough for them to see him. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Colson.” They gave small waves as you introduced them to Colson, who gave them a big smile.

“C’mon, babe. I’ll show you to our room.” You grabbed one of the bags from his hand, much to his dismay, and led him through the house. After you had moved to LA, your parents had turned your bedroom into the guest room, but some of the decorations from your younger years had remained on the walls.

Colson looked around the room, smiling as he thought of younger you growing up in here. “Is this a Bowie vinyl?” He asked, motioning to the vinyl record on the wall as he set your bags onto the bed.

You nodded, smiling wide. “Yep, got it for my 15th birthday. Signed and everything.” Your boyfriend nodded in appreciation as his eyes moved around the room. You wrapped your arms around his middle, cuddling into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest from how nervous he was. “You’re not gonna freak out and run off on me, are you?” You asked, a light humor in your voice.

Colson let out a dry chuckle, “no, I’ll be okay.” He mumbled, squeezing you closer to him. “But what if  we just stayed in here forever?”

You slapped his chest playfully, “c’mon loser, you’re coming to meet my family whether you like it or not.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted with his free hand, making you giggle.

You made your way into the kitchen where your mom was standing with your aunts and sister. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, “you made it!” She came over and gave you a tight hug, “How was the flight?” She asked.

“It was fine, we slept most of the way.” You smiled before turning to Colson. “Mom, this is Colson, you’ve met him over facetime a couple times now, remember?”

She smiled moving to pull him into a hug. He had a shocked look on his face but reciprocated the hug. You mouthed “sorry” to him, giggling silently. He just smiled and shook his head, letting you know he was okay.

“Of course, I remember! She talks about you all the time.” You blushed as Colson smiled proudly. “You’re much taller in person.” Your mom noted, making you and Colson chuckle.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Your sister cleared her throat, grabbing your attention, “right! Colson, this is my sister and my aunts.”

They each introduced themselves politely. You told them you were going to go outside to find your dad and brothers. Before you left your sister pulled you to the side and whispered in your ear, “okay, I knew LA was full of hot guys, but how’d you manage to pull that?”

You laughed out loud, “Y/S/N! That’s so mean!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She laughed, but then whispered again, “but seriously, god damn.”

You rolled your eyes, “next time I’ll bring you one back.” She giggled, nodding in encouragement.

You took Colson’s hand, ignoring his quizzical look, and led him to your backyard. “That wasn’t too bad, right?” You checked in on him.

He sighed, “no, but moms are never bad. If moms don’t like you, they’ll say it in secret. Dads will say it to your face.”

“My mom loved you, and so will my dad. Just trust me.” You smiled, squeezing his hand.

You found your dad sitting on a lawn chair with your grandparents. Your brothers were throwing a football around with some of your older cousins and uncles. You greeted the three in lawn chairs, your dad standing up to give you a hug.

“Hey, Y/N/N. How are you?” Your dad asked.

“I’m good! Glad to be home!” You smiled.

Your grandpa grunted, “you should never leave, then.”

You chuckled, leaning down to give both him and your grandma hugs. “You’ll be so sick of me in three days, you’ll be begging me to leave.”

Once you stood up straight, you motioned to Colson, “This is my boyfriend, Colson. You’ve kind of met him before, Dad.”

Your dad reached out his arm for Colson to shake, earning him a strong nod. “Strong grip. I like him.” Your dad looked towards you. You could tell he didn’t remember meeting Colson on facetime, but you hadn’t expected him to.

“Grandpa, you’ll like this. Colson knows all four members of Motley Crue.” You smiled, winking at your boyfriend.

The older man looked impressed, “really? I was a roadie on the Theatre of Pain tour.”

Colson nodded, a smile on his face. “I played Tommy Lee in their biopic and then, uh, we recorded a song together.” You grinned proudly as the two talked about their experiences with the band.

Your dad put a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly, “You happy?” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “yeah. He’s a good guy, trust me.”

Your dad nodded, “oh, I can tell. Just wanted to make sure.” You thanked him, watching your boyfriend interact with your family. “Now you gotta introduce him to your brothers.” He chuckled at your sigh.

“Do I have permission to punch them if they act like assholes?” You asked, only kind of joking.

Your dad pushed you towards the lawn, “I see nothing.” You smile, grabbing Colson’s hand and leading him away from your grandpa once they’d finished their conversation.

“Okay, so I knew you were freaking out about my parents, so I didn’t want to freak you out even more.” You started, causing a panic look to cross Colson’s face. “My brothers are…” you searched for the words, “assholes. But like, loveable assholes. But they’re probably gonna give you shit, but it’s out of love. But I have no problem hitting them if you want me to.” You smiled.

He raised an eyebrow, “normally I’d say that’s my job but I feel like it’d be easier for your family to forgive you than me.” You laughed, pulling him to the guys and introducing him.

It turns out, your brothers actually really liked Colson, which was somehow worse than them hating him. Because it meant that they stole him from you. When you went back inside to talk more with your mom, your brothers demanded Colson stay outside with them. He seemed happy, so you let him stay, excited that your family was taking to him so well.

An hour later, dinner was almost ready, so your brothers started to set up the folding tables outside, which Colson gladly helped with. You were helping your mom finish up the last of the food, watching your best friend and soulmate through the window with adoration. He was helping your younger cousin put the tablecloth on the table, the scene reminding you of the time Casie and him took you out for a picnic on your birthday. You couldn’t wait to bring her here.

“You chose a good one.” Your grandma commented from behind you, making you jump a little bit. Once you registered her words, you blushed, mumbling out a thank you. “I can tell he really loves you. A granny can always tell.”

You smiled, “I really love him, too.” You turned back to check on him, catching his eye. He sent you a bright grin, making your grandma pat you on the shoulder before walking back to your mom to help her.

The rest of the night was magical, Colson by your side the entire time. Eventually most of your family left, leaving you and Colson to go to bed. You cuddled into his side, a smile on both of your faces. “They all love you, y’know?”

He hummed in response, squeezing your waist. “I love you.”

You chuckled, “you’re so fucking cheesy.”

 The next day you were determined to take Colson on a tour of your town, starting with the skate park you spent almost every day at in high school. “We would’ve been best friends when we were kids.” He said as you dragged him through the park.

“We’re best friends now.” You chuckled, pausing to press a kiss to his lips.

He hummed, “I think we’re a little more than best friends but okay.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him further into the park until you spotted a familiar face.

“Little Benny?” You asked, your face lighting up. The younger guy’s eyes widened, running up to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, pulling you in for a hug.

You chuckled, “You were like, 12 the last time I saw you, what the hell?”

The man laughed along with you, “well you were the one who ran off to LA miss big-time producer.”

You smiled, realizing he had probably checked up on you. Benny was about 7 years younger than you and had looked up to you almost his whole life. Seeing him so grown up was a strange experience for you.

You noticed him glancing to Colson, his eyes going wide. “You’re-“

You laughed, “Benny this is Colson, my boyfriend. Also known as-“

“Machine Gun Kelly!” The younger boy exclaimed, making Colson chuckle.

He reached out his hand, which Benny gladly shook, “nice to meet you, man.”

“Kells, this is Benny, my friend from high school. I taught him how to skate.”

“More like your protégé.” A female voice said. Behind Benny came Deanie, another girl his age you had taught. Benny’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.

You smiled at the two, knowing Benny had liked her since he was in middle school. “Hi Deanie.” You said, the girl smiling back at you. “This is Colson, my boyfriend.”

“Are you gonna skate?” She asked, eyes going wide.

You sighed, shaking your head, “sorry, guys. Maybe later, I’m just showing Colson around the town right now.”

Deanie and Benny both pouted, “damn, she goes off to Hollywood and forgets all about us.” Benny joked, making you all laugh.

You grabbed Colson’s hand, “We’ll see you guys later!” You waved, pulling the man away from the couple.

“It was nice to meet you!” He said, making you smile. “You seriously taught him how to skate?”

You nodded as you continued your trek to the diner you used to work at. “Yep, I taught most of the kids how to skate, although I guess they’re all his age now.”

Colson grinned, “so you’re, like, a legend here.” He commented, but you shook your head, laughing.

“No, I was a loser.”

“Not to those two, you’re not.” He said, swinging your intertwined hands. You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything further.

You finally arrived at the small diner you used to work at. About 50 feet away from the door, Colson’s phone buzzed. “Shit, Slim’s calling.”

“Take it, I’ll grab a table and you can meet me inside.” He smiled thankfully, answering the call as you walked inside.

You immediately spotted Wesley, the cook you’d known since you were 16, through the order window. The smell of the diner was familiar, and for a moment you felt like you were walking in for a shift. You leaned against the bar, “Hey, Wes!” You called, drawing the cook’s eye.

“Little miss Y/N! Is that really you?” You smiled at the old man.

“It sure is! How’s the diner?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” You giggled at his response. Wes had opened the diner in the 90’s and swore he’d burn with the building.

You grabbed a booth in the corner, just in case there happened to be any peering eyes in your small town.

Unfortunately, your table was in Liza’s section, a girl who’d hated you since you were kids. You found it quite funny that she was still working at the diner after all this time, silently thankful that you’d gotten out of the town.

She scowled when she saw you but walked over anyways. “What happened? Strike out in Hollywood and now you’re back here trying to get your job back?”

Her voice was just as annoying as it had always been. “Or did your rich sugar daddy dump your ass and now you’re home begging for money?”

You wanted nothing more than to slap the smirk off her face, but you refrained. “Actually-“ You started, but you got cut off by your boyfriend.

“You have a sugar daddy and didn’t tell me about it? Babe I would’ve helped you scam him for so much more.” He smiled, sitting across from you, and grabbing your hand that was resting on the table.

Upon realizing who was sitting across from you, Liza stiffened. “You’re-“

“Y/N’s boyfriend, nice to meet you.” He smiled, an evil glint in his eyes.

“Machine Gun Kelly!” Liza said, her squeaky voice making you cringe.

“I prefer Colson, but yeah.” He sighed, looking back over to see your annoyed expression.

Liza looked between the two of you, a look at disgust on her face. “Seriously? Why the hell are you going out with her? You could do so much better.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock at her blunt rudeness. Colson’s jaw clenched as he spoke, “what, like you?”

The girl shrugged, not catching the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. “I’m just saying, I don’t know what she’s told you but she’s a talentless bitch whose probably only dating you for money or fame, or both.”

Luckily, Wes came out to the front of the house to greet Colson, stopping him from punching a girl in the middle of the restaurant. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Wes, owner, cook, and the best boss Y/N has ever had.” Colson shook his hand, still glaring at Liza.

“Yep.” You agreed with the man. Your voice was soft to calm Colson down, which worked a little bit.

Colson shot the man a grin, “nice to meet you, Wes. Y/N talks about this place all the time.”

The look of pride on Wes’s face was unforgettable. “Well, if you two need anything, just let me know.”

Colson looked towards Liza, annoyance returning to his features, “do you think we could get a new waiter?”

You almost laughed seeing the look of shock on her features, but Wes happily obliged, handing your table over to a newer waitress. Liza had steam coming out of her ears, but you ignored her.

“Thank you.” You muttered. “She’s hated me since we were kids.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I could tell. Couldn’t have her talking shit like that.” He squeezed your hand, “now, what’s good here?”

[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[reidgraygubler]

multiply (kyle orfman/reader)

Title: multiply Request: no Couple: Kyle Orfman/Fem!reader Category: angst/smut w/ a taste of fluff Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, mild hatefuck, grinding/groping, heavy petting, light breathplay (hand over mouth and nose) breeding/impregnation kink, fingering), zombies and zombies eating humans, death, descriptions of death, death of a grandparent (grandmother), mentions of guns and gun violence (but none actually happening), petnames (kitten/officer) Word Count: 5,943 Summary: After narrowly escaping her grandmother eating her, Reader is on her own to find other civilization. She meets the Orfman family and they take her in for safety. Reader and Kyle share a special bond. A/N: I am in love with this piece, so I hope you guys love it as much as I do. thank you to @reidetic for beta/editing this for me! this was also written for @imagining-in-the-margins "there was only one bed" trope challenge for june! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

My grandmother was alive… And then she was dead… And now she’s alive again. Which is very confusing because I watched her die. Like I can’t be the only person experiencing this, right? It’s not some weird fever dream either, I don’t think. This has to be a town wide phenomenon.

My grandmother was acting totally normal too. As if she didn’t die. She was living life day to day, making cookies, knitting, and sipping her tea, just like she did before she died. It was like life went back to normal. And then… She tried to eat me. That’s definitely not normal. Is it?

Who eats another person!? Zombies! That’s who! And how do you kill a zombie? I don’t really like that answer. Because I love my grandmother. She’d do nothing to hurt me, except eat me, I guess.

I gotta get out of this house. It’s not safe to stay in the house with her anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. So instead of killing her, like any other sane person would do, I just left. I packed my backpack with a few clothes, snacks and water, and I left.

Turns out it was a lot more than a town wide phenomenon. It was country wide. Everyone was experiencing their dead loved ones returning from the dead. Just showing up, like how my grandmother just showed up. It caused something of an uprise, too, considering people don’t just come back to life after being dead, and they’re eating other humans. It wasn’t an uprise. It was terror, pure terror of the people who didn’t die and come back to life.

I hadn’t left my house in a while, at least since my grandmother came back. So I didn’t realize just how dire the situation was. Piles of burnt stuff were all over the place. Cars with shattered windshields were crashed into trees or homes. And the number of bodies just on the street was… incredibly disturbing.

I needed to find any sign of civilization, and quickly. There was no telling just how long I’d make it alone. I probably only had enough water for the next day or two. And the only zombie movies I’ve seen were Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland, and that wasn’t very helpful… Well maybe Zombieland was helpful.

A long branch with a sharp and pointy end was sitting in the middle of the road. I grabbed it, hoping it’d be enough of a weapon to protect me from the disaster around me. I silently hoped, and prayed to whatever God was up there, that I’d find safety before nightfall.

I was beginning to lose hope as the sun started setting; the sky lighting up with the fires around the town. Several people wearing orange jumpsuits came running around the corner, each carrying various weapons in their hands and over their backs. I nearly fell to the ground because of how startled I was. I tried to pay attention to the crowd around me, but the pavement chewed up the palms of my hands.

A guy with a crew cut hairstyle seemingly looked in charge. Weird to have a gangly and scrawny man be in charge of a zombie take out group. He had this weird stature that he held, like he was trying to be intimidating but not everyone took him seriously.

The guy looked right at me and pointed a gun at my head. I slowly lifted my hands and stared at him.

“D-Don’t shoot! I’m human!” I shouted as I stared at him. He stared back, stepping closer to me. He dropped his gun away from me, but still kept his guard up.

“Human my ass!” The guy with the crewcut shouted. I looked at my hands, watching as blood began seeping from my palms. I quickly looked back at him, hoping he’d look at the human blood.

"Thoughts on smooth jazz?!" he asked in a loud tone. I stared up at him, feeling the terror bubble up my throat.

"I-I… Not my first choice in music?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I wondered what this had to do with anything.

"Thoughts on dirt?!"

"Ew? Good for gardening? I don’t know!” I shouted back before I stumbled to my feet. The guy with the crew cut cautiously stepped closer to me as he examined my face and body. I’d assume it was because he was looking for any impurities I could possibly have. “I almost had to kill my grandmother. But… But I had to leave. I couldn’t do it. So I left. I left because she lunged at me… from across the table,” I mumbled as he stepped back. “I just need somewhere.. To lie low for the time being. I promise I’m safe.” I whispered as I looked at him. The guy looked back at the rest of his team, gauging their thoughts and concerns about letting me go with them.

“You can come with us. But the second you turn your back on us, or turn into them, don't be shocked when I’m the one to put a bullet into your head,” his voice got scary low as he stepped right up to me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Understood,” I whispered as I looked up at him.

I was shoved into the middle of the crowd of orange jumpsuits. The guy with the crewcut took the lead and brought us to a house that was guarded by tall cement and steel fencing. The people who were currently occupying this home knew how to keep themselves safe.

We entered the fenced in yard of the house, the leader making sure everyone got in safely, and no undead beings followed us. Then we entered the house. I was half expecting it to be stripped down, or decayed. But when we got in… It looked like a normal home, just no power, and the windows boarded up.

“Oh! A new person!” A woman exclaimed once I stood in the area that was once a living room. She came right up to my side, looking at me with a bright smile. She was very happy that I was here. “Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” she cooed as she threw her arms around me. I froze, my body refusing to move as she embraced me.

“I-I…” I swallowed roughly as she pulled away from me. I barely had time to say anything else as she pulled us to sit on the couch.

“I’m Judy Orfman. Kyle is my son.” She smiled as she gestured towards the crew cut guy wearing the orange jumpsuit.

“Mom,” Kyle muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I snickered as I looked back at Judy. I smiled softly as I gave her my name. It was weird how homey this place felt, albeit our situation in the world. Part of me wondered if Judy had any part in that.

“My husband, Noah, is out right now. And my other son, Zach, is with one of the women. She also had to kill her grandmother,” Judy whispered that last part. I looked at her with wide eyes, feeling a certain nervousness settle in the pit of my stomach. I could tell she meant well, and I shouldn’t be scared around anyone here. Everything that’s happened is just unsettling. When I woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting to have to escape zombies.

“Is it okay i-if I lie down? I’m just very tired after everything that’s happened.” I I looked between Judy and Kyle.

“Oh! Kyle, honey, you should let her sleep in your room. She obviously needs it,” Judy spoke to her son as she carefully smoothed out my hair. I looked at her with a small smile. I loved how motherly she was. It was definitely something I needed in a time like this.

“I’m not going to do that, Mom.”

“We don’t have any more bed space. You’re the only person with a bed big enough to hold two people. We aren’t going to force her to sleep on the floor or on the couch.”

“I-I don’t have an issue with the flo-”

“Non-sense! Kyle has plenty of space!” Judy clapped her hands together as she glared at Kyle. Kyle looked back at her with wide eyes before dropping his head and mumbling something. Even though Kyle was in charge of the orange jumpsuits, Judy was the head of household. Anyone could argue with her, but she would end up getting her way no matter what. Kyle probably knew better than to fight his mother.

“So it’s agreed then! You guys will share the room!” Judy smiled brightly. “Just no funny business.” She then glared between me and Kyle. I looked at her with wide eyes before shaking my head.

“Ugh! Ew! With him!”

“Her?! Are you serious?”

Even though I basically said what he said, I was still hurt by his utter disgust behind his words. I tried not letting it bother me as I grabbed my backpack and stood up.

“Why don’t you show her around? The bathroom, kitchen, bedroom.” Judy stood up beside me as she looked at her son. Kyle begrudgingly moved towards the opening of the living room, leading off to a new area.

“C’mon,” he grumbled as he looked over at me. I looked at Judy before looking back at Kyle. I dropped my head before dashing up beside him.

Every room he showed, I was met with a new person distraught by the events of the day. Kyle just showed me the room. I didn’t really know what I was expecting when he showed me around the house.

“Finally, this is where I sleep,” Kyle muttered as he gestured towards the closed off bedroom. A small smile grew on my lips as I entered the room, heading right towards the bed. Kyle, however, stopped me by grabbing my backpack and pulling me back to the door. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Judy said I could sleep in here, too. So I figured I should take my side of the bed.” I looked up at him, folding my arms over my chest. A smirk grew across Kyle’s lips before he nodded. At this point we were standing toe-to-toe, and our chests were practically pressed together.

“You’re adorable,” he muttered before pulling my backpack off my back and tossing it to the left side of the bed. “If I find out you’re cuddling with me, you’re outta here. And if I see you going through my shit… You’re dead.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I whispered before looking away from him. I walked away from him and towards the bed. Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could feel Kyle’s eyes on me as I went through my bag. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me? Or are you going to let me sleep peacefully?” I asked as I dropped my shoulders and the things I was holding.

“Until I know you won’t fuck around with stuff you’re not supposed to…” He spoke out loud. I rolled my eyes before turning to face him.

“Do you want me to just mess with your stuff while you’re here?” I asked as I walked back around to his side of the bed. Kyle’s eyes widened and his jaw steeled as I went to his night stand. “Or will you leave me alone so I can get some rest?”

“I’ll leave you alone the second you back away from that nightstand.” His words were quick and sharp as he spoke. A small smirk grew across my lips as I looked back at him. I stepped away from the night stand and stood in the middle of the room. “I’ll come back in an hour,” he muttered before leaving the room.

With a deep sigh, I returned to my side of the room, finally getting ready to lie down for the first time in what feels like days.

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t think time exists anymore. Ever since the world went to shit, it feels like days felt longer than 24 hours. So it was hard to say how long I’d been in this safe house. I wished time was still relevant...

I try not to let things bother me. But I feel like it’s especially hard in this house with all of these people I hardly know. It was even harder because I was still sharing a room with Kyle. And he is probably the worst person I’ve ever met. He talks in his sleep. But he wouldn’t own up to that. Noooo, he’s too good for that.

The first night I realized he was talking in his sleep wasn’t too bad, mostly because it was him talking about stuff that happened before before a stupid zombie apocolyspe. But now it’s just annoying shit. I never get a moment alone anymore.

For a moment of privacy, I sat in the closet. It was just for a moment before the doors swung open and a woman my age sat down beside me.

“Zach wants to go to a stupid graveyard today,” Erica muttered as she sat down. I looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “He wants to visit Beth’s stupid grave.”

“Beth’s his ex-girlfriend, right?” I asked, still unsure of who people were here. She nodded as she began picking at the loose threads on her pants. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Erica.”

“Okay, but when the dead start trying to kill me, then I’m going to talk ill of the dead.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” I muttered as I looked at the floor in front of us. “It’s still not really safe to do that… Little weird.” I glanced back at Erica with a raised brow. She looked back at me and grimaced. I had nothing else to say, granted conversations between us didn’t last too long. We had nothing in common other than our grandmothers tried eating us, therefore we had to kill them. So what was the use of us talking? I knew a friendship would never grow between us.

With a resigned sigh, I stood up, leaving Erica in the closet alone. I ignored her bothersome questions as I walked away from her. I didn’t want to be around her, or really anyone. So I went to the safest place I could think of, hoping no one else would be there, my shared bedroom with Kyle.

Of course, it’d just be my luck that Kyle would also be there. He was sitting at his desk, wearing nothing by his boxers while he cleaned his gun. I just didn’t realize that till I had fully entered the room.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?! Don’t you knock!?” he shouted as I entered the room more. I turned and looked at him, my eyes wide as I stared at him. “S-Stop staring! Are you crazy!?”

“Me crazy!? You’re the one cleaning your gun half naked!” I shouted as I gestured at his attire. I quickly threw a hand over my eyes as I blindly searched for the bed.

“It's how I relax!” He shouted back. Once my body finally touched the bed, I laid back, quickly throwing a pillow over my face. “Can you leave?”

“How come you get to relax but I don’t? Roommates remember?” I sat up and glared at him. He glared back at me, keeping his hands on his gun.

“It’s so funny to me that you were going to be a police officer?” I scoffed as I laid back. That seemed to strike a chord in him, causing him to stand and look at him.

“What? I didn’t tell-”

“You talk in your sleep,

“No I don’t, Kitten,” Kyle retorted. I stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he just called me. Kitten? Really? Seriously? “If anyone talks in their sleep, it’s you.” He pointed at me. I smirked and shrugged.

“If you say so… Officer.” I grinned before reaching up to shut the lamp off. Kyle stayed sitting in the darkness. I could only imagine his face was beet red, and his knuckles were white as a ghost as he held his gun.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Kyle’s voice came through the mild darkness. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Taking a nap, Officer, because it’s how I relax.”

{***}{***}{***}

It had to have been the middle of the night. I couldn’t be too sure. I just knew it was late at night, and Kyle’s whole entire body was clinging to mine as he talked.

“Someone’s gotta repopulate the world… Why… Why don’t you do it with me?” Kyle mumbled into my chest. I stiffened as his hands drifted all over my body. “You’re like the only feasible person to do it with.”

“Okay, first off, rude,” I muttered as I shoved his body off mine. It was impossible to keep him off me though, because the moment his body was away from mine, he knew, and instantly wrapped his arms back around me ten times harder than before. “Secondly, haven’t you heard of personal space,” I groaned as I laid perfectly still on my back. I finally just gave in and let him keep his arms around me. No use in fighting that.

“C’mon, Kitten,” he mused as he nuzzled his head into my chest more. I widened my eyes and looked down at him. “We’d make some pretty cute kids.”

I hate this so fucking much. And there was no way I was getting out of this. I just wish this was when I knew the weird sex dreams started...

{***}{***}{***}

I laid perfectly still on the bed. The lights were off, and Kyle was perfectly asleep. I was envious of his sleep. The last time I had a peaceful night of rest was ages ago. The nightmares I had were awful, keeping me awake till dawn. But also, Kyle also talked in his sleep and always clung to me like his life depended on it.

I’d be lying if I said Kyle and I hadn’t gotten close. Even though part of me still hated him, the other part of me knew that he was probably the last person I had to be friends with, other than his mother and Erica.

With a deep groan, I shoved Kyle awake, nearly pushing him to the floor.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted from his spot on the ground beside the bed.

“You know when you talk in your sleep…” I spoke aloud. I kept my eyes on him as he glared at me.

“No I don’t,”

“You sure about that, Officer. How else would I know you wanted to be a cop?” I scoffed as I stood up off the bed. Kyle watched as I walked around the bed and stood at the foot of it.

“You… You read through my personal belongings.” He shot back as he stood to his feet.

“Y-You have a diary,” I stifled my laughter as I looked at him. Kyle glared at me again. “No, I only know that because you talk in your sleep. And at first it didn’t bother me too much because it was cute shit like being a police officer, or having a family and kids, and cute shit… But now… For the last week, Kyle, you have been having sex dreams. And I wake up to you clinging to me…” I lifted an accusing finger as I spoke. Kyle looked at me, waiting for me to continue my rant. Which was rather surprising because he hardly lets people finish their thoughts or rants before he interprets them. “Do you know how weird that is?! Having sex dreams about someone who’s just sleeping next to you?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand if he was going to say anything. “Whatever, I’m going to help Judy.” I scoffed before turning to leave the room.

“With what? It’s midnight!” He gestured to the dark window. Yeah, that was true. Judy was probably asleep. I just needed to get out of the room and let my frustrations be out instead of held in.

“With something!” I shouted at him.

“Kitten, wait,” Kyle started before grabbing my wrist and pulling me to face him. I spun around on my toes and looked right at him. I couldn’t help but feel annoyance grow on my face as I stared.

“Why do you call me that!?” I shouted at him. Kyle stayed silent as he stared up at me. I could see a certain confusion grow on his face as he tried to connect the dots to my question. “Kitten! Why do you call me that?! You’ve called me that since I got here.”

“Well… I…” Kyle paused for a moment. I watched as his mouth opened and closed a few times, and his jaw clenching momentarily. I stared at him, as he sat in thought for a very long time.

“Whatever,” I scoffed as I turned to leave again.

“Because you’re attractive…” He finally spoke after an eternity of silence. He looked up at me with a stilled face. “Because I’d fuck you,” he stated truthfully. I blinked, taking a step back before I stared at him.

“That’s a bit of a raunchy way to say you want to sleep with me.” I folded my arms over my chest. Kyle smirked before shrugging. “I’ve been sleeping with you for the last month.”

“You-You know what I meant,” he muttered as he approached me again. I stopped right in front of me, our toes just barely touching. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to have sex with me?”

“You… You want to have sex… During the end of the world. Bit cliche don’t you think?” I was still taken aback that he just asked that. I’m still stuck in the argument we had less than 10 minutes ago. And now he wants to have sex with me?

“Well I wouldn’t say that it’s the end of the world. But that’s essentially what I’m saying… Yeah, I wanna have sex with you, during the end of the world.” Kyle shrugged as he looked at me.

“If you say so… Officer,” I whispered with a shrug. Kyle looked at me, his jaw stealing at my words. “Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.” I smirked at him. I could tell my words did something to him. It was obvious that he did indeed want someone to repopulate with. And I was the winner of that contest. Not that I’m complaining.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that,” he warned as he cornered me between his body and the bed. I took a deep breath as I looked at him, feeling my heart rate pick up in my chest. He still made it possible for me to escape if I wanted to. But, at this point, who says I wanted to escape?

“Why? D-Does it do something to you, Officer?” I whispered as I lifted my hands to his shirt. A small smirk grew across his lips as I smoothed out the wrinkleiness of the fabric against his torso. I could feel the semi toneness of his chest through the light fabric.

“You tell me yourself, Kitten,” he muttered before pressing his hips into mine. My breath was instantly knocked from my lungs as his bulge pressed into my legs. “Tell me now… If you want to stop…” he half growled into my mouth. I quickly shook my head as he pressed his groin into me more.

“P-Please,” I whispered before I pulled my lips between my teeth.

“Please what, Kitten?”

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered into his mouth. He looked down at me, a pleased smirk growing on his lips before he quickly pressed his mouth along my face and then down my jaw. It was impossible to stay down on earth the moment he began leaving little bites across my neck. A soft whimper fell from my lips as he pushed me back down on the bed.

“We gotta be quiet… My parents are in the next room over. Don’t want them hearing us,” he whispered into my ear as he quickly threw a hand over my mouth. I took a deep breath before he pressed his thumb over my nose. “You think you can do that for me, Kitten?” He kept his voice low, almost a growl as he spoke. With his other hand, he carefully pushed past my pajamas and cupped my pussy.

I wanted to nod, but I knew the nod would mean nothing the second I whimpered again. Kyle smirked as he slowly moved his fingers over my clothed sex. I don’t think I’d be able to be quiet...

It just got harder to stay quiet the second he started stroking my clit over my panties. He knew exactly what he was doing. Driving me nuts, that’s what. He could’ve gone slower, and I would’ve hated him for it… Or loved him. At this point they were both interchangeable.

I bit down so hard on my lips I was sure they’d bleed as he moved my underwear to the side. My lungs slowly grew a blaze, feeling a certain tightness in my chest as he slowly moved a finger between my folds, slowly pressing it into my entrance. A dark smirk grew across his lips as he withdrew his hand.

“I didn’t know a kitten could get so wet,” Kyle mused as looked at his glistening fingers. He quickly glanced at me, his smirk growing daker by the second. Then he carefully stuck his fingers between his lips, sucking on them for a brief moment. A soft whimper came from me, causing him to laugh. “She tastes good, too,” he hummed.

Kyle carefully dragged his hand down my side, tracing over my waist and hips, before diving back into my pants and underwear. He knew exactly what he was doing, on purposely making me make noises. Because the second he started stroking over my clit, I couldn’t stop any sound that came from my mouth, even with his hand over it.

“This is already better than any dream I had, Kitten,” he murmured in my ear. I swallowed roughly and nodded. He smirked as he gently pushed a finger into me, quickly followed by a second. “If you’re quiet I’ll move my hand.”

I hummed as I closed my eyes, my head lolling to the side. Kyle dragged his hand from my mouth, sliding it down to my chest. My lips stayed between my teeth, forcing myself to be quiet as he started massaging my breasts.

“D-Don’t stop, whatever you do… Please k-keep going,” I struggled to say as his movements hastened. His thumb carefully brushed against my clit, causing me to push my head back into the bed beneath me.

“You like this, don’t you?” Kyle laughed lightly. I could feel my chest lifting away from the bed the heavier my breath grew. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this? Since you’ve been used?”

“Kyle, Kyle, please,” I bit down on my lower lip. I brought one of my hands to rest over my mouth, while the other held his arm.

“I’d call you a desperate, but I’m the one having sex dreams of you.”

The funny thing is… I was desperate. Even though he was the one having the sex dreams, I was the one having the thoughts when I was awake. And a lot of the thoughts were hoping this would happen. Guess we’re bothing having dreams coming true.

It was only a matter of moments before I was finishing over his hand. My eyes stayed closed as I tried catching up with time. And in the few moments I had, Kyle had climbed off the bed and quickly undressed, leaving me still in my pajamas. I didn’t feel rushed, but I hated that I was still wearing clothes.

Once I had my moment of recollection, I sat up, peeling my shirt off and kicking my pants to the floor. I was too busy undressing to even notice that Kyle was staring at me, watching my quickness and excitement. But when I finally did sit back and look at him, he was watching me with a smirk on his lips.

I tried not to let my eyes linger on his body for too long. When I noticed his hard length, I couldn’t help but stare. Then he laughed, forcing me to look up at his face and swallow roughly.

“No, please, keep staring,” he muttered with a smirk. I slowly blinked before shaking my head, silently lifting my hand to him. I could feel my sudden neediness radiating off my body, surely Kyle could sense it from where he was standing.

When he didn’t move, I slowly moved my legs apart, making it so there was space for him to kneel comfortably. He smirked again before crawling onto the bed, coming right up to my face.

“Tell me, Kitten, how badly do you want this,” he whispered against my lips. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Use your words. I trust you know how. You were pretty vocal a few moments ago.”

“I don’t think you understand, Officer, how bad I need you,” I murmured as I looked up at him. The corner of his lips twitched at the nickname I had so lovingly given him. “Only you can help me.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered before roughly pressing his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck as he moved so his length was pressing against me. My breathing stuttered slightly before I began gasping for air as he very slowly entered me.

Once he was fully sheathed in me, Kyle knelt straight up. I stared at him, watching as he hooked his arms under my knees. With that, he managed to press deeper into me, inciting a moan from me.

“More,” I tried to whisper as I looked up at him. His eyes locked with mine for a moment before rolling his hips into mine. He fell into a steady rhythm, hitting the right spots at just the right times.

Any conversation between us ceased to exist, leaving us with struggling moans and gasps for breath. My hands ran over my body, trying to relieve myself of something.

Kyle dropped one of my legs, bringing his hand to between my legs. My head fell back before rolling to rest against my shoulder, feeling the eventual relief in my abdomen.

“You feel so good, Kitten,” Kyle mumbled before dropping my other leg and coming back down to my face. I huffed out a breath of air before lifting a hand to his head. “Better than anything I could ever imagine,” he added before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, pushing my fingers through his hair.

“I’m gon-gonna cum,” I whined before biting my teeth into his shoulder. Kyle ran his hands up my back before pulling me close.

“Yeah?” he groaned into my ear. I nodded as my breathing grew ragged. “Me too,” he added as his movements grew faulty. He pressed his forehead to mine, his heavy breath fanning across my skin. My eyes stayed glued to his.

“Do it, please do it,” I whimpered. Kyle’s eyes grew darker the moment the heaviness of my words hit him. I don’t think I was supposed to notice his brief pause, but I did. “I’m serious.”

“You know what-”

“God, Kyle, I know. I know what it’ll mean,” I cut him off, lifting my back up into his body. He looked at me for a brief moment before capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close to me.

“If that’s what you want,” he moaned, his movements turning sloppy. I knew I wasn’t about to last long. “Someone’s gotta have my kid.”

“Let it be me then,” I cried out. My legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. “Please.” My whole body tensed around his as my head fell back as I tried to keep quiet. Kyle looked down at me before putting his hand over my mouth. Then a warmth- that I didn’t realize that I missed- grew in my stomach.

Kyle fell, laying against my body. With that, we fell into silence. The only sound was our heavy breathing and the sounds of crickets outside. The silence was nice though.

“My mother better not find out about this,” Kyle said after an eternity. I laughed and shook my head.

“Then you better hope I don’t end up pregnant, because she’ll find out eventually,” I sighed deeply as I brought my hands to hold the back of his head. His body stiffened before he lifted his head to look down at me.

“I’ll tell her in the morning.”

“Well you don’t have to do that,” I laughed. He stared at me for a moment. “You tell her she’ll probably break us apart. And, well, like I said earlier… Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. She’d probably kill me if she found out we’re having sex,” he stated before trying to move away from me. “Actually I think she’d kill me then pray I come back to life for that kid.”

“I’m not living through someone trying to eat me twice.”

“I can change that,” he teased with a smile. I stared at him once I realized what he meant.

“Tomorrow night please. I’m so tired.”

“If you say so,” Kyle laughed before slipping out of the bed.

Some months after the apocalypse ended

“You look mighty dashing in that uniform, Officer.” I looked at Kyle as I smoothed out the few wrinkles in his shirt. I tried my hardest to hold the young boy in my arms the moment he became fussy.

“Don’t start that now. I can’t be late,” Kyle warned as he looked back at me. I smiled and shrugged.

I looked up at Kyle with a soft smile on my lips. Although our son was young, he tried to blindly reach out for his father, but failed as he was just out of the child’s reach. “Be safe out there,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his.

“Of course I will.”

“Good, because your little man will be pissed if he finds out you’re not coming home.” I smiled before kissing him again. “But I think I’ll be even more pissed than your kid.”

“Please. I’ll come home in one piece, with no bites.”

“You better, Officer.” I smirked again.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kyle scoffed before rolling his eyes. I smiled and nodded.

“Good luck out there. Judy’s making dinner so be home in a timely manner.”

“Okay, for real, I gotta go. See you later, Little Man.” Kyle smiled as he rubbed the top of his son’s head. I smiled before puckering my lips. “And I’ll be home before you know it.” He quickly pecked my lips. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. See ya later.” I swung our son over to my other hip, resting him gently on my hip. I turned around and slowly walked back up to our home.

“It’s not too soon for another one, is it?!” He shouted from the end of the driveway. I turned and looked at him as I made it to the front door.

“If anything, we can practice!”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic  @spenciegoob @flipperpenguins @broken-stardust​ 

[blog-reflection]

One / Two - Mascara and Croissants

We've arrived at my grandparents' place. It's an old-ish looking house somewhat build even before the war. Ever since I can remember, my grandparents had this house. I can't imagine them living in a different place then there. It's a wholesome neighbourhood, mostly old people. At least, that's the image you get while observing the town. My mum and I got out while the door slowly opened. I turned around and saw the most stereotypical old folk. Josepphe stood right behind Theas right side. Both wore clothes from the 70's, which I loved. Josepphe gives me his old clothes every now and then. Thea used to do the same, but when my mum found out I'm wearing her grandmas' clothes, she went wild. I hugged both before Mildret and I were entering their house.

The kitchen was down the hallway on the left, right behind the living room. Between the living room and the kitchen was a huge table. Usually there wasn't much going on but today it was loaded. Everything your heart desired. Fresh baked pancakes, fruits and cereals, buns, 7 different flavoured jams, you name it. This wasn't like a family meeting. This is like heaven. I placed myself next to Josepphe and opposite Thea and reached for the butter, when all the sudden my grandma started talking. 

Thea: So, Will...  

- She's always using my middle name -  

Thea: Tell me, how did your search for an apartment went so far? If I remember right, you had plans to move out and live on your own? 

She's right with that, but...well...it's not easy getting a flat when you don't have a fixed nor good income. Rents in Brighton are just unnecessary high. But, as said, she's right. I simply can't life any longer together with Mildret in one house. She's hurting me, mentally of course. And if I'm honest I think it's good for her to not see me for some time. At this point, were too similar. We always fight ‘bout nonsense, never clear anything up, and when someone doesn't find an argument, we just ignore each other.  

Thea: William? everything okay darling?  James: Oh yeah sorry, I just spaced out again. About the apartment, it is right, and it is an unchanged topic for me. I really want to life on my own. I know I can do that, it's just.... every time I see a nice apartment it's either taken by someone else or they simply lied in the description. Apart from all that, I'm not so sure how to pay all the rent so yeah. 

Thea said nothing. She just stared at her cup and kept steering. 

Thea: You know...getting to the point in your life where you can proudly say that your independent takes lot of courage. We've seen you grow up, been there for you whenever you needed us. But so, where you. Time’s changing, and now you're the one who is checking up on us, and we are happy to have such a good boy as our grandson.  Josepphe: What your granny wants to say is that, that we are old enough. We've seen the world an everything surrounding it. I mean, after all we played a big role there...hehe..huh. We don't need all our fortune. So, Thea and I have been thinking. We want to support you, financial and we decided to pay your first year of rent as well as the move and some basic needs. 

My mum choked on her bite and started coughing very loudly. I cached myself jaw dropping and letting go of my croissant. This is crazy. I mean a year??? By that they would pay at least 9.600£ for ... me? I mean I've known they were a big business couple in the 70's but I never known that they made so much money out of it. I was still in shock when I noticed my mum wasn't sitting next to me anymore. The only thing I hear are loud coughs outside and I ask myself. Did she forget it rained? 

She didn't. She came back like 7mins later, completely soaked in rain, mascara running down her face. My grandma got up as fast as she could, grabbed a blanket and rapped it around her daughter before both gone upstairs for a while.  

Josepphe: I thought something like that would happen. I just thought that she, that she'd be louder  James: Don't call it, I still life round her 

-both of us giggled- 

Josepphe: She was nothing like you when she was your age. I think that's why she almost died. But is that fine with you? We are just. -  James: Joe, it's more than fine, really. I'm flattered. But you really don't have to do that. The rent is around 800 bucks and, -  Josepphe: It's okay, really. Don't worry Jam 

Our chatter got interrupted by loud screams coming upstairs, followed by my mum stomping down the stairs. 

Mildret: JAMES, get your coat, where leaving  James: But I haven't even finished my coffee?! Why are we leaving anyways?  Mildret: I don't care! Take a croissant and off we go! You can eat breakfast at home too!  James: BUT MUM  Mildret: JAMES I’VE HAD ENOUGH! CAR NOW! 

I really don't get what's wrong with her. I put on my coat, stuffed a croissant in each of my pockets, hugged my grandparent's goodbye before stomping to the car. My mum smashed the door and started driving like there would be massive discounts at Tesco. I've never seen her drive this bad in my entire life. Whatever she and Thea have talked about, it must have been intense. Usually, the ride was around 20min long, so I could listen to about 5 - 6 songs, but not today. Mildret managed to be home in less than 10 minutes, driving thru redlights, you name it. She seemed like she didn't care if we'd hit a tree or crash into another car. You could see that she’s been trying hard not to cry. It didn't work that well though.

As soon as we arrived at home, she's been rushing out the car into the kitchen. I slowly made my way in when I saw here cucking down a bottle of wine, followed by intense sobbing. A small sigh was all I could get out before going in my room, getting of my pants and jumper and digging myself into my bed. 

What a Day. 

[comfortwriting]

A Triwizard Baby - Final Part - F.W

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Final Part of the 'Triwizard Baby' mini-series.

Please Read Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 if you haven’t already.

A/N: Thank you ever so much for loving and for showing so much support and excitement for this mini-series, it has been one of my favourite things to have ever written and I'm so sad it's coming to an end, but I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: Implied Smut, swearing.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were slowly approaching the hospital wing, George following not far behind.

“Yeah, which I’ve only just found out are mine!”

The hospital wing doors opened, Molly and Arthur standing in the doorway, staring at you, their son, and their grandchildren.

"Mum!" Fred smiled "Dad!"

You looked up and swallowed hard at the sight of your child's confused grandparents, they were just as clueless as Freddie with this whole situation, but when Molly's eyes landed on the smaller and sleeping twin, her heart burst into flames.

"Oh, congratulations dear!" she smiled, starting to tear up, you encouraged Fred to hand the baby over for her to hold.

Molly cradled the bundle of joy in her arms, counting his fingers and toes, stroking his soft hair as tears filled her eyes "he looks just like you, Freddie when you were a baby."

"He finally knows," George smiled, approaching you, planting a friendly kiss on your head and sitting next to you "I'm sorry I couldn't be here."

"It's okay," you sigh, the corners of your lips curling up into a smile "but it's okay, everything has worked out perfectly in the end, better than I ever thought it would."

“I’m sorry for crashing into you” he frowned, sitting next to you on the train “is your head alright? I can try and make the bruising go away.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, you chuckled and shook your head “It’s okay but thank you for offering” you smiled.

His twin brother entered the carriage, ��Fred-” he stared at you “what’s happened to you?”

“I wish you were coming with us” Fred sighed, grumbling to himself.

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re going on holiday!” you beamed “just make sure you take plenty of pictures, I’ve heard Egypt is lovely!”

“I’ll write to you and I’ll send the photos through the owl post if I’ve got enough time.”

“We’re supposed to be studying for our O.W.Ls!” you hissed at Fred, hiding your answers from him as he continued to make your stationary levitate and drop onto your head.

“Please take part in this prank, Y/N” he begged “I promise I won’t ask for anything ever again.”

“But you always do, Freddie!”

He stared at you, pouting and making puppy eyes.

“Fine” you sighed, giving in “Let’s go and do it then.”

Fred punched the air and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you away from your desk, the two of you smirking and giggling with excitement.

“I didn’t realise it would be this cold” you shivered, standing outside of Honey Dukes, snow falling from the sky and sticking to the pavement.

Fred pulled off his knitted jumper “Put this on love, don’t want you freezing now do we?”

“I want you.” you breathed, pulling away from the kiss “I want you to fuck me like you do everyone else.”

“I want you too” Fred replied, taking your hand and fleeing from the party.

“Are you going to tell him?” George asked.

You shook your head “No, and the both of you aren’t going to tell him either, you need to promise me.”

“I’ve got plans!” Angelina smiled, unable to hold her emotions back, the bottle lid slowly starting to tremble as the liquid inside bubbled up.

“What’s going on?” Fred asked again, slightly puzzled as he had never seen her so excited.

“You don’t know?!” Angelina gasped “Me, George, and the girls are planning a surprise baby shower for Y/N!” she beamed.

“I’m ready to tell you” you sighed again “who the father is.”

They all stayed silent except Matt’s little sister, “who is it?” she asked quietly.

“Fred,” you blurted out, unable to hide his name for much longer “Fred Weasley is the father.”

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" he asked, opening the ring box

You and George smirk at one another and laugh, shaking your heads, you partner Fred watching you and his newborns full of life - he had never felt this heavy strike to his heart before - but he couldn't mistake it anymore, he knew - he was truly in love.

Flickering your eyes open, you smirked at the open wide brown eyes staring back at you, the peppered freckles sitting across his nose and face which you slowly stroked with your index finger.

You didn't need to speak, you could just live in this moment forever, with him, your husband.

Your bedroom door slowly creaks open, you and Fred quickly cover your faces with the bed covers so only your eyes are visible, and the two of you chuckle when you hear the pattering of feet thunder across the room, only to be followed by another pair of feet, less thundery and more stumbly.

Your two boys pounce on the bed, full of energy and mischief, you and your husband jump up and lift up your children in your arms, pulling them into the soft and cosy sheets, tickling them, the room filling up with their laughter.

"Gideon! Fabian!" Molly yells up "Get down here now! Leave your poor mother and father alone to sleep!"

"Go! Go!" Fred whispers "Uncle Ron won't show you any magic if you don't listen!"

"Listen to your dad!" you smile "Or Uncle George won't show you any magic either!"

Your twins quickly pull shocked faces and scamper away, hurrying downstairs to finish packing with Molly to go to her house for the weekend as you and Fred were getting ready to go away for your honeymoon.

"Last night was the best night of my life," you kiss Fred softly, bringing up your hand in the morning light, examining the beautiful ring.

Hearing the door close downstairs and many feet storm away from the house, Fred wraps his arms around you and he pulls you into him, kissing your neck, his hot breath now tickling your ear.

"You won the bet" Fred whispered

“So, when can we make another one?” Fred winked.

“When we graduate from Hogwarts!-”

“Next year?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t let me finish! We need to graduate, get stable jobs and have a house with enough room!”

“So next year then?” Fred smirked, still cradling the baby.

Your furrowed your brows, unsure whether or not he was bluffing.

“Okay then, since you’re all confident, let’s make a bet.” You smirked back.

“If I win, we make another baby, if you win… we get married,” Fred said softly as the baby opened his eyes and let out a cry.

"Even if I did," Fred sighs "I still want to make another one."

You ponder the thought for a minute, "So why don't we?"

Sharing a glance, your husband attacks your lips with his, his hands roaming all over your body and pulling off your pyjamas whilst you take off his and get your hands lost in his golden hair. Life had finally worked out for you, for the twins, for Fred, you were finally a family - you never thought that you would be here now compared to the situation you were in three years ago.

Fred's eyes admire your naked body basking in the beam of sunlight that burst through the gap in the curtains, his finger traces your stretchmarks and he places small kisses across every single one of them, the reminder that you created and nurtured two lives inside of you, two lives he had helped you create after a heated makeout session at a party.

Fred didn't want anyone else but you, and the thought of him being present for the whole nine months to see another life blossom inside of you, gave him one more reason to thank the world for being in it.

taglist: @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @reeophidian @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx @onlyfreds @manuosorioh @cosmiccomicloverqueen @the-romanian-is-bae @fhhsposts @cavalinhox @purple-vodka-99 @simpforweasleys2 @dracoismybabey @xuminghoasworld @michael-loves-chickens @freddie-weaslebee

[queenshelby]

Accidents Happen (Just Friends Part 8) - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 3337

Tag List (Cillian Murphy):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders​ @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby  

Note: This is fictional and doesn’t include reference to Cillian’s real children and wife.

Dublin to Birmingham

Just six weeks ago you and Max moved in with Cillian and things couldn’t have gotten much better between you.

Whilst you both took this step out of convenience and fairly early on in your somewhat fresh relationship, you were both happy and comfortable with your decision.

Max loved having Cillian’s children around and Cillian was slowly becoming like a father to Max, something he had never experienced before. He treated Max the same way he treated his own children and, sometimes, you wondered how you got so lucky. Even you and Cillian’s ex-wife had managed to build a reasonable relationship and, when Cillian wasn’t able, you would sometimes drive to her house to pick up his two sons. The age gap between you and Cillian didn’t bother her once she learned how you interacted with the children and once she met your son Max.

As far as your relationship with Cillian was concerned, you loved having each other’s company on a day-to-day basis. You often cooked together, took long warm baths together and played board games with the kids. But, most of all, you loved spending nights together in the same bed. It was not only romantic but comforting for you to have the man you loved by your side every night until quite recently.

Unfortunately, just as you settled into your new home, Cillian had to travel to England to begin filming the next season of Peaky Blinders.

This meant that you were going to be on your own for three weeks with Max before you would see him again in Birmingham, which is where your parents lived.

Whilst filming didn’t actually take place in Birmingham, Cillian was meeting you and Max there over the long weekend to finally meet your parents. It was your father’s birthday and, unfortunately, he wasn’t too fond of your relationship with Cillian.

Initially, you didn’t share much with your family other than the fact that you were living with Cillian and that he shared care for his two children with his ex. Furthermore, your parents had a problem with the age gap between you and Cillian after your father asked how old he was.

Your parents considered that age and the fact that you had three children between you might become an issue if you wanted more children of your own. You knew that Cillian didn’t want any more children and at this point, neither did you. Things were perfect the way they were and you hoped that your parents would accept your relationship once they saw how happy Cillian made you.

But, little did you know that, your parents would give him a much harder time than necessary when they first meet him.

On the Friday evening, when you arrived in Liverpool with Max, you were excited to see your parents. But, you were even more excited to see Cillian who you were meeting at the airport.

You had hired a car to drive to your parents’ house together. That way, you could drive back to Liverpool on the Monday with Cillian for another few quite days between you while your grandmother had planned to take Max back to Dublin.

In her opinion, you and Cillian were in need of some time together without kids. Unlike your parents, she adored Cillian and supported your relationship.

As you and Max got out of the plane and entered the terminal, you could see Cillian waiting for you from far away. He couldn’t be missed wearing the Thomas Shelby haircut and, unfortunately for you, other people recognised him as well.

But, he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that people were starring at him and took you into his arms before giving you a kiss as soon as you and Max approached.

He then proceeded to give Max a hug before offering you help with your bags.

‘Nice haircut’ you chuckled as you ran your hand over the back of his head.

‘Funny’ he smirked as he took your bag and walked with you and Max to the car.

You knew that he hated getting his hair cut with this style and couldn’t help but tease him.

‘I just love that I will get to meet your entire family while having this ridiculous haircut’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Trust me, at least three of my cousins get their hair cut the same way. You won’t be noticed as the odd one out’ you laughed.

‘Great, if I put on the accent, no doubt I will blend right in, eh?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Well, you can stay in character over the weekend if you want’ you laughed before giving him another kiss as you arrived at the car.

‘You know, I really missed you’ you said with a warm smile as you sat down in the driver seat.

‘You are driving, are you?’ Cillian smiled before telling you that he missed you also and giving you another even longer kiss than before.

‘Yikes, can you stop this’ Max said with some embarrassment. He had gotten to the age where he thought that kissing was disgusting and girls were silly.

After you both chuckled about Max’s comment, you were on your way to Birmingham.

While you were driving, Cillian exclaimed that he was nervous about meeting your parents after they were already disapproving of your relationship.

What he also didn’t know that you never mentioned to your family what he was doing for a living. Unless your grandmother told them, they might be lightly surprised. But, the topic had never come up after, every time you and your father talked about your relationship, you ended up hanging up on him when he started to argue with you.

Nonetheless, you reassured Cillian that your parents will come around once they met him and see how happy you are together.

The Moment of Truth

After an almost 2 hour drive you finally arrived at your parent’s house.

‘Hi darling, how are you?’ your mum said as she hugged both you and Max at the same time before introducing herself to Cillian.

‘You must be Cillian. It’s nice to meet you’ your mum said as she shook Cillian’s hand.

‘Likewise, Mrs Y/LN’ Cillian responded with a warm smile just as your father walked through the hallway and greeted you and Max.

‘I am Y/N’s father’ he said somewhat sternly before shaking Cillian’s hand.

‘Cillian, nice to meet you’ Cillian said politely.

‘I figured. Now come on in’ your father said as it was rather cold.

Your mother was quick to disappear with Max and you quickly instructed her to give him too many lollies before dinner.

‘He looks somewhat familiar’ your father exclaimed to you while Cillian closed the car just as your youngest brother came walking through the hallway to approach you.

He immediately noticed Cillian and looked at him with some surprise.

‘No fucking way’ Brendan said all of a sudden while his eyes widened, causing him to receive a nudge from your father.

‘Language Son’ your father said firmly, causing Cillian to chuckle before he introduced himself.

‘I know man. Me and my friends love Peaky Blinders’ your brother said before introducing himself to Cillian.

Your father looked at your brother with some confusion until it clicked and he realised that Cillian was, in fact, part of the TV show he had been watching occasionally with your brother.

Your sister soon approached you as well and greeted you with a hug. She also introduced herself to Cillian. You had spoken with her about in him on several occasions previously and there was no surprise. Nonetheless, her first question was whether Cillian could introduce her to Finn Cole, causing Cillian to laugh.

After some introductions and small talk, your father showed you to your respective rooms and it became evident to you that he had arranged for you to share a room with Max while he had allocated a separate room to Cillian.

‘Dad, that’s a joke, right? You do realise we live together?’ you asked, while Cillian remained quiet about the situation.

‘And yet you aren’t married, so you will not be staying in the same bedroom at my house’ your father said, causing you to take a deep breath.

‘We should have booked a bloody hotel, that’s ridiculous’ you said.

‘Fine by me’ your father said before walking off.

‘Y/N, it’s two nights and Max hasn’t seen his grandparents for a while. We should stay for him, yeah?’ Cillian said quietly and you nodded reluctantly. As usual, Cillian was comforting and loving despite your father’s dislike for him.

‘I am so sorry Cilly, I don’t know what his problem is’ you said.

‘It’s alright Y/N. He is just being protective of you and that’s a good thing. I am sure he will come around’ Cillian said as he took you into his arms.

‘I know. It’s just that I am 25 years old and cannot sleep in the same bedroom as my boyfriend. It’s so ridiculous’ you said somewhat upset. After all, you wanted to be with Cillian desperately, share a bed together and possibly have some intimacy.  

‘I know’ Cillian chuckled before giving you a gentle kiss.

‘I cannot wait another two nights to be with you. It’s been three weeks since we slept together last and the Skype thing is really not the same’ you said suggestively as you ran your hand over his crotch hoping that no would walk through the hallway and catch you.

‘Y/N, stop. I don’t think your father would appreciate it if he saw us like this’ Cillian chuckled trying to push your hand away.

‘I tell you what, I will come to your room after everyone goes to sleep. Just for a bit’ you smirked trying to reach inside his pants, causing Cillian to get fidgety and laugh at the same time.

‘That’s a bad idea Y/N’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Why is that?’ you asked before telling Cillian that you have needs.

‘Firstly, this is your parents’ house and I do not want to disrespect their wishes. Secondly, you aren’t exactly quiet when we have sex and, thirdly, you told me on the way here that you forgot your pill the last couple of days when you stayed with your grandmother in Galway’ Cillian said.

‘Well, you will just have to pull out in time’ you winked, knowing very well that he had exceptional self-control after you found yourself in the same situation the previous months when you forgot to take it. After that, it had gotten to the point where Cillian reminded you to take it as you weren’t exactly consistent and somewhat forgetful, which also made you schedule a doctor’s appointment in two weeks to discuss other options in so far as contraception was concerned.

Just as your quick conversation with Cillian was nearing the end, your mother called out to you both to tell you that dinner was ready.

‘Coming’ you yelled out as you removed your hand from the inside of Cillian’s pants.

‘Thanks…gotta hide that now’ Cillian chuckled as he rearranged his pants so that his erection would be hidden beneath the large jumper he was wearing.

You giggled and both made your way to the dining room.

Dinner Interrogations

During dinner, your father managed to step out of line completely when he asked Cillian whether he always dated women much younger than him.

Luckily, Cillian remained polite and answered his question regardless of its inappropriateness.

‘No. In fact, I was reluctant about the age difference between us at first’ Cillian exclaimed.

‘Well, I was just asking since, with many actors, that’s the norm, dating women half their age’ your father said.

‘It is?’ Cillian asked surprised, causing you to laugh but your father didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

The conversation soon escalated and Cillian excused himself and offered you to put Max to bed so that you can catch up with your sister and mother.

It was obvious to you that your father and Cillian didn’t see eye to eye and Cillian tried best to remain calm and keep the peace for your sake.

He joined you and your family again after putting Max to bed and, by that time, your father had received a lecture from your mother and was up to his second glass of wine. Things went much more smoothly thereafter and your parents also excused themselves at 9pm to go to bed.

Cillian went on to have a shower before giving you kiss and returning to the room that was assigned to him. He knew you would join him shortly. After all, he knew you well and he found it rather difficult to deny you especially when you were aching for him. You were a rather sexual person and demanding when it came to intimacy. 

And just like this, after you had a shower and checked on Max, you sneaked into his room wearing nothing but your panties.

Cillian was lying in bed with a novel, wearing his Calvin Klein briefs and reading glasses. The beside table lamp was dimming the room nicely and his muscular chest was highlighted by the shimmering light.

‘Good Evening Professor’ you giggled as you immediately jumped on top of him. You loved when he was wearing his reading glasses.

Cillian put his book aside and pulled you close for passionate kiss before taking off his glasses.

‘I love you, you know that?’ he said quietly and you nodded in response.

‘I love you too Cillian’ you said before kissing him again passionately before lifting up your hips to take off your panties.

There wasn’t much time for foreplay and you certainly didn’t need any. After three weeks, you were desperate for him and he was desperate for you.

You quickly threw the blanket to the ground and helped him out of his briefs before pushing him backwards so that he would lie flat on the mattress.

You climbed on top of him before you kissed again, fast, desperate and passionately.

‘Don’t forget to pull out’ you smirked just before your body began to slowly lower itself onto his Cillian’s lap, the head of his cock pushing against your opening.

He was hard, harder than he had been in a while. It was obvious to you how much he simply wanted to be inside of you.

The lips of your mound were slick, covered by your juices and the precum that had pooled at the tip of his cock.

As you moved your body further down, he penetrated you without resistance, relishing the wet, soft and warm grip of your opening.

You were just as tight as he remembered and a soft growl fell from his lips. Your walls contracted around him as he entered you inch by inch. It almost felt like a vice-grip, and the fact that he didn't immediately cum right there after three weeks of abstinence was a miracle.

You also couldn't believe how good it felt, after three weeks. You needed this desperately and you no longer cared about the fact that your parents were staying in the next room.

‘Hmm, I missed this’ you moaned quietly as more and more of his cock filled you.

Finally, your shapely ass rested on his legs, the entirety of Cillian’s cock throbbing inside you.

‘I missed this too babe’ Cillian whispered as you leaned in and kissed him deeply, pressing your small perky breasts against his chest.

You raised yourself slightly before lowering yourself back onto his hard member.

Cillian kept both hands on your hips, guiding you as you rhythmically bounced on his lap.

You felt yourself getting lost in all of this and your moans soon became uncontrolled, causing Cillian to gently place his hand over your mouth for a few seconds to muffle the sounds you were making.

‘You need to be quiet’ he instructed as the feeling of him being inside of you was almost dizzying.

You tried the best you could to remain quiet, but your efforts were futile as your humping grew erratic while you nuzzled your face into Cillian’s neck.

Cillian wrapped his arms around you and started to both lift you and thrust up, taking control of your movements.

His cock was slamming into you now, the sound of your ass cheeks being clapped competing with the squeaking of the bed.

Neither of you cared any longer as you got lost in each other. Surely, your family was fast asleep by now.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you whispered in between laboured moans as you moved in sync with each other and the head of his cock hit your cervix over and over again. His length filled you perfectly and it felt as though he was all the way inside your stomach.

As you rode him for what felt like an eternity, you could soon begin to feel your orgasm approach hard and fast and, whilst you usually tried to draw it out, you didn’t that night.

You came hard and forcefully, your body shaking as you did everything in your power not to scream and moan.

As your orgasm washed over you, Cillian once again covered your mouth to stop you from screaming out involuntarily. Usually, you were loud in the bedroom, so loud that you had recently been questioned by one of the children as to whether something was wrong.

Cillian made you feel so good that you lost control and his hand muffled the screams that escaped you as your walls contracted around him, squeezing his hard cock tightly as you orgasmed.

The sound of your panting and contraction of your tight walls around his cock pushed Cillian close to the edge as well. In fact, he was dangerously close.

While you rode out your orgasm, his was approaching, fast and hard and his cock started to pulse inside you.

‘Y/N stop’ Cillian said quietly as he held still, trying to reduce the pleasure you were giving him. But, you were in a trance, still consumed by your orgasm after three weeks of abstinence, and continued to move up and down on top of him.

‘Y/N, you need to stop… Fuck’ Cillian panted in between involuntary groans as he could feel himself throbbing inside of you rapidly. He could not hold back any longer.

You finally realised what was happening when you felt his hands grip your waist, trying to move you off him and asking you to stop once again.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian moaned as you quickly moved your body upwards, allowing him to pull out of you and, just in that moment, he came hard and fast.

You tried your best to quickly collect his hot and sweet seed with your mouth as you had planned. After all, this was something you enjoyed doing a lot. But, your efforts were partially futile and you would certainly have to find a way to discreetly wash the sheets tomorrow without your parents noticing. There was a lot, defiantly more than usual.

‘Close call’ you giggled after swallowing what you had collected and licking your lips suggestively before lying down next to Cillian.

‘Too fucking close Y/N’ Cillian said, still panting. ‘You won’t be going on top the next time you want me to pull out’ he said.

‘I am sorry. I just totally lost control’ you said as you curled up against Cillian’s chest.

‘I could tell. I hope your parents didn’t hear you’ he said with a slight chuckle before kissing you gently.

That night, you really wanted to stay with him, but you knew that you couldn’t and, after another few minutes of kisses and cuddles, you returned to your room quietly.

When you returned to your room you decided to change into your comfortable snoopy pyjamas which your mum had given you. They weren’t exactly sexy, but warm.

But, just as you stepped out of your black lace panties, you noticed a small amount of shimmery white liquid on the inside of them.

Hoping that it wasn’t what you thought it was, you ran your finger through your wet slit in anguish and observed a little more of it.

Perhaps the close call was too close after all.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I’ve been thinking about one piece of dialogue Violet has when you’re walking back to Ericson, right before the bridge: “I've always wanted a basketball hoop.”

One of the issues I’ve always had with Violet’s writing throughout the whole season is that it never feels like she has anything to call her own. So much of her story revolves around Minerva and Clementine, which would be fine if I also felt like I got to know her more than I do. 

Like... aside from survival, what gets Violet out of bed every morning?  What does she like? We always hear about things she doesn’t like, but what does Violet do that is hers? I mean within the text of the story, not headcanons. Aside from her romantic relationships, there really isn’t something so tied to her character, if that makes sense. Something that’s in a more positive light.... though I guess her relationships aren’t always that positive.

I get that when the twins died, Violet shut down a little bit and turned everyone away, but do they ever make a point to be like “Violet used to enjoy doing this, but when the twins died, she stopped and hasn’t picked it up since.” because for the life of me, I can’t think of anything. 

Everyone memeified the chicken nugget thing but that doesn’t add much to her character. She makes Clementine a pin, but admits that artsy stuff isn’t her thing. I get that’s supposed to make you feel special because she likes you enough to do something she doesn’t like for you, but again, art isn’t her thing. If you say that she likes stars and that’s her thing, that’s not exactly true since it was Clementine who knows about constellations and Violet admits that she knows nothing about that stuff, so they’ll just make it up. I guess you could make the argument that she took an interest in it because of Clementine, and that’s fair, but that’s the thing.... why does Violet’s romance scene take place up on the bell tower in the first place? 

Like.... okay, Louis has his romance scene in the music room, right? That makes perfect sense with his character. It’s where we first meet him, and music is so interwoven with his character that it holds together his backstory of why he broke up his parents marriage, his coping mechanism, how the others view him, and how losing his tongue is even more tragic since he won’t ever be able to sing again. So having him and Clementine tune the piano, carving their initials into the piano, him naming a song he wrote after her, it’s all romantic and it makes so much sense. They didn’t do it just because they thought it would be romantic. 

The thing I struggle with the Violet scene is that I feel like if I asked the devs why they chose the bell tower and how it ties into her character, they would say “well, it’s romantic under the stars.” like.... they’re only doing it for the sake of romance without thinking about anything else? because when doing that scene we get the terrible mini-game [sorry, but I reeeeally don’t like the mini-game hahaha]  and it feels like we’re wasting a little too much time because I’m not learning anything about Violet through it, but we’re also not talking about anything important. The most I learn is that if I remain silent, then Violet will say that Minerva reminds her of the fish constellation: “Bright, pretty, good with other people. Always moving, tons of energy.”

Which, by they way, Clementine’s face when she says that? Oof. 

By the end of the mini-game, Violet finally says something about how she didn’t mean to talk so much, and how how she’s watched people leave before and all that.... stuff that I already know about her, and it’s not that it isn’t important for her to admit that she wants us here and she can’t imagine what it would be like if we weren’t now, because it is.... I guess I just want everything to tie together better?

Okay, when we first see Violet, she’s laying up on a high wall and you could link that to the bell tower [high places], but she never mentions it or how she goes up there when she needs the quiet until that very moment. And the more I think about it, I’m like..... why didn’t they give her something? 

Violet’s supposed to be this character who needs to warm up to you, who has shut everyone out for a year, she’s not a people person and has a hard time relating to others, she snarky and can come off as aggressive, she knows how to fight, she was in a romantic relationship with Minerva, she’s close with Tenn, she’s got a strained relationship with Brody and hates Marlon and...... like okay, this is going to sound harsh and I don’t like it either, but sometimes if feels like the writers neglected parts of her character for the sake of focusing on her relationships with Minerva and Clementine, that when you take them away, there isn’t a lot left... as if Violet’s only important or special if she’s in some sort of relationship with Clementine and I don’t like that. 

Characters, like people, should be more than just their sexuality and relationships. If Violet and Louis are supposed to be important characters in the game, they need to stand on their own outside of Clementine. 

You guys know me, you know every time I play I romance and save Louis, but in doing that, I learn pretty much nothing about Violet and that’s dumb. At least when you romance and save Violet, you know about Louis and his tie to music. The most I tie Vi to is Minnie and aggression because she and I spend two episodes butting heads about most things until she’s captured, and then she yells and attacks me in the cells and what was the plan here writers??

I get that they don’t wanna info dump about these characters and they want to leave things for when you play the different routes but that doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t give Violet anything to call her own because even when I played her route, it still didn’t feel like I got to know her and everything was done because you thought just having a queer option smothered in romance that doesn’t have to make sense was enough.

Are my ramblings making sense yet? I dunno!

This leads me to this piece of dialogue you get when Clementine says silent when Violet asks her what her favorite part of her house was: “I've always wanted a basketball hoop.”

Now stick with me a little longer and hear me out........ why wasn’t basketball Violet’s thing? I know this is a bit of a throwaway line that a lot of players probably didn’t even get, but think of the possibilities of extra layers to Violet’s character?

Instead of hanging out on top of a wall when we first see her, Violet’s off dribbling a basketball and shooting hoops when she spots you and Tenn goes to her, and she stops to stare you down as she holds the ball against her hip, or she continues to dribble but now she’s watching Clementine. A little intimidating, but enough to peak your curiosity about the girl shooting hoops. 

When Louis says he used to love baseball and Violet says baseball sucks, it’s because this is an inside joke they have about baseball vs basketball.

“Basketball/baseball sucks.”

“YOU suck.”

“Not as much as baseball/basketball.”

Instead of going up to the bell tower, Clementine and Violet shoot hoops together while talking about how Violet’s feeling about the situation, let her get some of those thoughts about Minerva out so they’re not weighing down on her, and then segway into her talking about how she’s glad Clem is here and let the romance/friendship play out. Hell, you could either do this in a gym or outside if you still want them under the stars. 

As far as this tying into her backstory, maybe her grandparents had a basketball hoop at their place, and after church her grandma would grab fast food and they’d go home where she and her grandpa would play while grandma watched. 

Then when you don’t save her, Violet becoming blind has a whole other layer to it because now she can’t fucking see to shoot hoops, something she genuinely enjoyed and can’t anymore. 

This would also compliment Louis and his tie to music. Violet’s more active, aggressive, sporty whereas Louis is musical, artsy and calmer. 

I dunno, what do you guys think?