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kechiwrites · 11 months

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gentle touch

könig x massage therapist!reader kinktober countdown day 5 (body worship)

synopsis: oh, the military boys were your favourite.

wc: 2.8k

cw: massage therapist reader doing bad medical-ish practice, body worship, light sub!konig, mentions of edging, hand jobs, a little oral as a treat, biting, konig being petnamed as he should (honey), size kink, hints at touch starvation, groping, begging, uncut konig, afab!reader, no gendered pronouns or language.

author's note: i know his dick hex code and it's glorious. mdni.

He’s your last appointment of the day. And what a fucking day it had been, ten hours that should’ve been eight, cinnamon scented candles instead of eucalyptus, a rushed lunch because a client had shown up early, not taking “I’m on break” for an answer.

You knock on the faux bamboo door, waiting for your appointment to allow you entry. When he does, so quietly you almost miss it, you open the door, only for your eyes to land on a broad, strong back, still wrapped in a dark grey long sleeve. He turns slightly, just enough for you to see the thin stubble on his chin, cheek and jaw.

"Hello! I didn't catch you undressing did I?" This time he turns all the way around and you are sure your swallow is audible. Hell, you hope it's audible, you want this dude to know just how impressed you are with what you're seeing.

"No." He shakes his head, rubbing his aquiline nose against the inside of his wrist. It must’ve been broken once before, if the uneven bump on his bridge is anything to go by. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You eat up the motion, eyes tracking every twitch or movement of his massive arms.

“Oh…" you're ogling him. You need to stop ogling him. "I actually need you to strip down.” The words burn on your tongue. You must say that a thousand times a work week, but this time, when you say it to him, it sounds…dirty. Like a shitty porn set up. Makes your clean white polo feel vacuum sealed to your skin. He takes a step towards you and you shudder a breath, tensing until you realize he’s getting closer to the lockers to your left.

He’s huge, you think, and when he still doesn’t look up at you, content to let the strands of dark brown hair, nearly black hair, hang in his face, you figure he’s shy too.

Cute.

“And you can use the towel to maintain modesty, Mr. König.” You get the inflection of his name wrong, you know because you’d googled it prior, held your phone to your ear in the staff washroom and listened to a soft spoken German man lilt it to you. There’s a hard ‘g’ on the end where it shouldn’t be, and you apologize, trying again to master it. “König.”

“Right.” He murmurs, “Just around my waist, yes?”

Or it could go on the floor and I could rub my clit on your abs.

“Yes, sir. Around your waist.”

You exit the room, closing it softly behind you. You figure you’ll use the few minutes you have to get a bottle of water, or a sedative. Something strong enough to bring you back down to your customary professional detachment.

When you return, he’s where you expect him to be. Face down on his stomach, his head in the cushioned hole. “S-sorry.” He speaks, voice muffled by his position. The apology comes immediately upon the sound of the door closing and you worry his large frame has cracked the massage table or something. You peer around him, looking for any chunks of polished wood or loose screws.

When you don’t find anything you realize he’s apologizing for his scars, the pit marks of bullets dug out in haste and healed with spite, lacerations haphazardly stitched, then redone a second time with the careful, practiced hands of a doctor in no rush.

“Oh, please don’t be. We get military boys all the time. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” You murmur, and it’s a lie of course. Not that you’ve seen scars, of course, you’ve seen some really storied skin in your time here, being near a base and all. No, it was the man who was an oddity. Mandy at the front desk told you that he’d had to duck through the front door.

His skin is also ultra pale in a way military men usually aren't. Near transparent, the sprawling blue lines of his veins thread underneath his skin, and you can see yourself getting distracted tracing some of the pathways with your fingers.

He hums, and you hope you’ve put him at ease a little bit. You haven’t even touched him yet and the tension in his back is glaring. Anxious people tended to hold a lot of stress, anxious soldiers? You’re just glad he’d booked a two hour instead of the customary hour and twenty.

The oil is cold straight from the bottle and you warm it between your palms before you make contact. He’s warm to the touch, bridging on hot, and he flinches when your hands meet his skin. “Was that too cold?” He groans, but doesn’t affirm or deny it, so you figure it must just be the contact. Slowly, you begin with his calves, tending to and pushing on knotted muscle and tense areas, working out kink after kink, soothing his compounded aches. The oil smoothes down his leg hair and you must be going insane because even that is hot to you. His thighs are even worse, strong and muscled and dimpled in the sweetest places. He shivers when your palms glide over his inner thighs, and he clenches them together when your fingers brush the hem of the towel shielding his ass from your greedy view. As quickly as it happens, he relaxes, murmuring another apology. You hum your own response, and push your thumb into an adorable cluster of moles you see just under the towel.

By the time you get to his lower back, König is almost purring, his gentle breathing often interrupted by drawn out, guttural moans. Whines and whimpers that make your blood hot. He’s holding the worst of his tension there, and you have to lean almost all your body weight into the motions of the massage. His hips jerk up and then down just as sharply when you crest your palm over her shoulder blades, and you don’t imagine the keening noise he makes as he grips the massage table. You’re used to military clients being a lot more stoic but it seems Mr. König is most assuredly not the sort. You reach his neck, framing his throat with your palms and using your thumbs to rub firm circles into his nape. His breath hitches and you find yourself cooing. “Breathe for me, I got you.” The soldier’s hips snap downward again, this time hard enough to shift the table beneath him. Which is more than enough to make you pause.

No.

It couldn’t be.

The soft music and sound of the water feature on the wall nearly drown out the curse König whispers, but you catch it, and can’t stop your lips from curling into a pleased little smile. This was just too good. You start to finish up his neck, brushing some of his hair out of the way so you can rub your fingertips into the skin just below his earlobes. You guide him to turn over and when he doesn’t respond, you wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

“Mr. König?”

He makes a wordless groaning noise low in his throat, laying motionless.

“I need you to turn over, honey.” You don’t even realize you’ve pet-named a grown man you don’t know. Which is just as well, because it seems to be what the soldier needs, and he rises from the table, clutching the towel in a tight fist to maintain his scant modesty.

You turn towards the side table, pouring more oil into your palm. When you return to face him, you witness why exactly he was so reluctant to face the ceiling.

He’s at least half-hard, a very noticeable ridge lifting his towel. You can’t stop staring at it, even though you know König is trying his best to ignore it. You circle around him, and begin at the foot of the table, going through the massage cycle again; feet, calves, thighs, arms. You zone out, following through your motions, listening to the man beneath groan and sigh his contentment. You reach his chest, spreading your hands over his pecs. They’re big, just like the rest of him, you think and it’s hard not to fucking drool on him. He’s firm but soft, still pleasantly warm, despite being exposed to slightly below room temperature air. He shifts again when you hit a stubborn knot right below his collarbone, and you pause to check in.

“Still good?”

His breathing is uneven, shuddering and laboured. His hands clench and relax from white knuckled fists.

“Yes.” he hisses through gritted teeth, and you’re worried he’s undoing every bit of relaxation you’ve tried to bring him. It’s painfully clear where the stress is coming from, hidden underneath a paltry white towel, the enticing elephant in the room. You put your hands back on him.

Still got 45 minutes left, after all.

You try your best not to look smug, and you fail miserably.

Every stroke and rub you perform across his chest makes his cock jerk and twitch under the towel. You can practically see the cloudy drops of precum that’d be beading as his tip. Your thumb nail skates across his pectoral and catches his nipple and the whine he makes is so sweet you just have to do it again. Soon, you’re barely massaging him, groping the poor man under the guise of your job. A weak grunt snaps you out of your reverie, and when you glance down his abdomen at that godforsaken towel, you can’t stop the quiet gasp of shock you release at his erection. “Ah, I’m so sorry. Very sorry” His flush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, a gorgeous stewed cherry colour that overwhelms the pale skin you’d worked into submission. His eyes are screwed shut when you can bear to drag your eyes from his cock to his face. His soft, pink mouth is pulled down at the corners, and the heavy, dark slashes of his eyebrows are furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them you want to smooth out with a kiss.

“It happens all the time. Are you alright to continue?” Your voice is deceptively calm, serene and soft, when all you really want to do is snatch the towel off the battering ram he’d smuggled in here. Your blood thrums, and you ache at the sight of it, at the mere thought of the ungodly stretch he’d put you through.

You will yourself to keep your hands where they are, force yourself to look literally anywhere else. The faux waterfall ahead of you, the wireless speaker droning pleasant, melodic mood music, fuck, you even try staring at the dimmed light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. But every cry and whine forces your eyes down, tempts you to catalogue every inch of flushed skin and threaded muscle. You gnaw on your own lip, and find your hands drifting down, back around his abdomen. You’ve worked through the area already, there is no excuse to be down there, to slip your finger tips under the towel, to push your digits into the skin around his pelvis. “Is this okay?” You have the gall to ask, when you push your fingers lower still, and basically sign your own severance package. Oh but it’d be worth it, to get what you want, to make this big strong man sob with pleasure, to have his mouth on your throat while you stroked him to completion. The memory of his cock in your hand will keep you warm in the unemployment line.

König nods, turns his head towards you but doesn’t open his eyes. His hips cant upwards again, and his towel shifts, parting to reveal his angry, desperate hard-on. He raises a hand from the massage table, letting his mammoth paw land on your hip. He squeezes you, and exhales sharply through his nose when his thumb touches your bare skin, skating over your flesh underneath your work shirt. “Say it.” You mutter and his eyes crack open, just wide enough for you to spot the crystalline blue of his irises between his inky black lashes.

“Please.”

And that’s all you need.

He’s uncut, and the veins blanketing the length of his cock are visible under his foreskin. Pretty in a way you aren’t used to, a denser blush than the rest of his body, but still quite pale. It feels like your hand is moving in slow motion towards it, your fingers twitching in anticipation. The heat of his dick warms your skin before you even make contact, and when you do, wrapping your fingers around the root of it, your fingertips can’t touch. You press your lips together and try not to squeal happily, glee crinkling your eyes.

God is real and he’s an uncircumcised cock on a shy giant.

König’s erection is searingly hot. Soft skin and hard core, jerking in your palm, leaking steadily, nudging at your hand, insistent. Your brain is working full steam and connections necessary to utilize common sense are still not being made. Slowly, you tighten your hold on him, the weight of it is so imposing, you wouldn’t be surprised if imprints of the veiny surface were branded onto your hand once you withdrew. If you ever withdrew. You should fucking withdraw.

You do not withdraw. Instead, you slide your hand up slowly, choking up on the head of his cock before dragging your grip back down. You chance a glance up at his face, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each laboured swallow. The poor man’s jaw clenches and relaxes while you slide your palm over his flesh again and again. Somehow, he hardens further and your eyes widen impossibly larger, the pit of your stomach doing somersaults at the idea of where you want that thing to go, what you want it to do. You get fevered flashes of König bending you over the massage table in your mind, hands on your hips, rutting without sense or logic into you, so hard the surface scrapes against the floor, all while he sobs, his overwhelmed, overstimulated tears splashing against your back while he rearranged your insides. The head of his cock is exposed every time you slide your hand down towards his pelvis. By the third peek, you’re dragging the pointed end of your tongue over the tip of his dick, licking against his head, and coating your mouth with the taste of him. He grips at your side harder, his fingers digging into your hip as he chases the warmth of your mouth. He keens loud, almost mewling when you pull off him, using your spit to ease your hand’s path. By this point, your handiwork is audible, noisy and wet, König’s voice filling the small room. You use your free hand to guide his head to your chest, letting him bend toward you, press his nose into your tits while he begs for you to finish him.

“Are you gonna come, Mr. König?” You thread your fingers in his hair, letting your nails scratch against his scalp, drift down to his nape and up to his crown again.

“Yes, please, please. Fuck.” His voice is reedy and thin, and he wraps his arm around your waist, burying his face deeper in your chest. And then his whole body trembles, and his hips roll towards you, and for a fleeting minute you consider edging the poor bastard, sliding your hand completely off his cock and watching it twitch violently, uselessly in the air.

But he begs so sweetly. And his next session was already pre-booked.

The hand you kept on his head leaves his hair, and you rub the head of his cock with your flat open palm, jerking him off with firm, fast strokes. He bites down on the curve of your breast, and you’re grateful he still managed to retain enough brain cells to not break skin.

“Do it then. Come, honey.” You trill, feeling his tears wet your skin through your shirt. It’s almost instantaneous, so fast it’s kind of impressive. His body goes bowstring-tight, and he squeezes you so hard it almost hurts. Ropes of sticky white seed shoot from his cock, covering your hand and his spasming abdomen. You slide your hand up, milking just the first two inches of him through his orgasm, until he stops your movements himself, covering your hand with his own.

When you finally break contact, you stare at your hand for what feels like ages, thick beads of his cum rolling down your palm, sliding to your wrist. You extricate yourself from his hold, using your clean hand to brush his sweat damp hair from his forehead. You press that kiss you wanted to the space between his brows. Why start restraining yourself now? His body shivers periodically, and you turn to the sink, to wash your hands clean, clenching your own thighs together, his moans and sighs echoing in your mind. You turn to face him, grinning wide and cheery,

“So...I’ll see you next week?”

hoe, you are getting fired! at least you got a man outta it though.

support city girls who love gummy worms, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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storm-angel989 · 3 months

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How would Valentine and the other vees react to his daughter attempting to take her own life? Sorry if its too dark u don't have to answer the request.

It’s never too dark of a request. I hope by writing this fic someone, somewhere who might be struggling sees that their life has irreplaceable value. I’ve been in that headspace, held that belief that the world would be better off without me. It’s a dark space, but I can promise you it gets better- I can’t say it enough.

It gets better.

For anyone who is going through this- I’ve been there. I promise you, it gets better. <3 My DM’s are open for anyone who ever needs to chat.

Even if it feels like no one else in the world cares, I PROMISE I do.

<3 Mandy

Valentino treated overdoses like it was his job.

In a way, it was. You don’t gain the titles he had without learning a thing or two along the way. When you deal with drugs, afterall, you deal with the unfortunate side effects that came along with them. It was simply good business to have the basic medical skills, enough to keep the user alive long enough to get them to someone who can bring them back the rest of the way.

After all, dead addicts don’t pay.

Another late night. There seemed to be quite a few of them lately, not that Valentino minded. Surrounded by his models, beautiful demons who brought out every aspect of the word lust. The music in the club hit perfectly, and his salesdemons were making bank tonight. At that moment, it felt like nothing in the world could go wrong.

The shrill shriek of his phone interrupted his blissful buzz. Glancing at the caller ID he did a double take.

“Vox? I’m at work. This better be an emergency.” He answered sharply. “You know I don’t like to be…”

“Valentino, you need to come home. Now.” Vox’s sharp voice interrupted him. “It’s Reader. Something’s wrong.”

Valentino was on his feet and out the door without a second thought. Shoving demons aside, he jumped in the limo. The ride home took less than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

He shoved open the door to her bedroom, and the sight that greeted him felt like he had been punched in the gut. His daughter laid on her side, a blanket draped over her shaking body.

“What happened? Is she sick?” Valentino demanded as he knelt down next to her. “Why didn’t you bring her downstairs?”

“Val, I just found her. She’s awake, she’s breathing, she has a pulse, she’s just..silent,” Vox replied. “And look…”

Vox held up her arm and Valentino visibly winced at the sight. Cuts covered her wrist, up as far as he could see. From just below the vein, bright red blood dripped. Silently, Velvette handed him an empty bottle. He looked down at his daughter and gritted his teeth.

“Bebita, what did you do?” He muttered as he glanced at the label. “You found this empty, Vel?”

“Yeah.”

Valentino cursed. No wonder she was still awake, but she wouldn’t be for long. “Vox, page downstairs and tell them to have the on-call doctor and have him meet us there. Both of you, with me, now.”

He carefully lifted up his daughter and, without waiting for the elevator, hurried her down the stairs, Vox and Velvette behind him. He looked down at her as dark blue foam began to drip from the corners of her mouth. In his arms, she curled and heaved into him. Valentino glanced down as warm blue liquid stained his jacket.

Fuck.

“Get up,” Valentino barked at the on duty nurse. He rattled off a list of things he would need as he laid his daughter on her side. From the cupboards, he tossed supplies on the counter.

“Put an ng tube in,” he growled to the nurse as he handed her a bottle of dark black liquid. “Get this entire bottle down her throat and then take it out. Vox, where the fuck is the doctor?”

Without waiting for an answer, Valentino stepped back and continued to yank open the cupboards, frantically searching until he found the right combination to counteract the pills she took. Without another thought, he slid the needle into her vein with a practiced hand.

“Come on, mi amore, don’t you dare,” he growled as his daughter closed her eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He pressed his hand against her chest, desperate to feel the beating of her heart.

A faint thud beneath his palm. A whimper of pain.

The doctor walked in seconds later and with orders from Valentino, whisked her away to the back. Fury raced over Valentino’s expression and he turned to Vox and Velvette.

“What the fuck happened to my daughter?”

Velvette looked up from her phone and quietly handed it to Valentino. “ I don’t know how else to say it, but…Val, she made a post and…well, it looks like she tried to commit suicide.”

Valentino felt himself pale as he stared down at the screen. “No, she wouldn’t. My little girl? Why would…”

“I don’t know, Val,” Vox said sharply. “But I do know we fucking missed a hell of a lot of signs based on the amount of damage she did to her body already.”

Valentino sank onto one of the empty beds and stared across the room. His little girl was in so much fucking pain she felt the world better off without her in it? His little girl hurt so badly, she needed to hurt herself? He buried his face in his hands. Had he gotten to her in time? Would she even survive this attempt? Why the fuck hadn’t he seen the signs?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and weight shift on either side of him. He tried to hold back the tears of sadness, of guilt. The tears that came with the adrenaline rush he didn’t normally feel.

“Val, we’ll get her through this,” Vox said softly. “I think we found her in time.”

Valentino tried to swallow back his sadness, but his voice still shook as he spoke.

“What..what cued you in? What made you check on her?”

“Her blood pressure tanked, and I got the alert on my phone. As soon as I saw her, I called you. Couldn’t have been more than…”

“It takes seven minutes for her vital signs to be affected,” Valentino said bitterly. “Blue foam on the mouth and vomiting occur at fifteen. Her heart stops at twenty five. She’s lucky you found her when you did. Lucky I had the drugs I needed on hand, lucky that I knew what to fucking do otherwise…just a few more minutes…she still might not…”

“No, she will. And she will get through this. We will get her the help she needs, Val. Whatever she needs.” Velvette said sharply.

“You wouldn’t walk on a broken leg, depression, anxiety, mental illnesses, they’re no different. They need to be treated, just like any other disease,” Vox added. “We know this, Val. We’ll get her the treatment she needs to fight this.”

“Mr. Valentino?” the doctor's voice broke through their conversation.

Valentino stood up. Vox and Velvette joined him.

“She’s in recovery. We pumped her stomach and are running a few tests, but thanks to your quick actions, it looks like she’ll be just fine. I don’t think she’ll suffer any long term effects,” the doctor told them. “She’s awake. You can go in and see her. I would like to suggest an adolescent psychiatrist…”

“Yes, absolutely. Get her over here as soon as possible. Whatever my daughter needs,” Valentino said quickly as he made his way down the hall.

The sight of his daughter laying in her hospital bed made him stop in his tracks. He swallowed back the fear and sadness that crept up his throat. She looked too small to be lying there, too frail to be anywhere but safe in her own bed. Her arms wrapped up tightly in white bandages, the monitors that showed her heart rate on a screen. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lift her up and sprint her back to the safety of their home, keep her in the safety of his arms.

But he knew, somewhere deep inside, that that wasn’t what was best for her.

“Daddy? Are you mad at me?”

Her soft voice broke through the quietness of the hospital room.

“No, babygirl, no,” he replied quickly as he made his way across the room. He sat down next to her and smoothed back her hair. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re okay.”

She stared at him with exhausted eyes. “I ruined your good jacket,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry…I’ll…”

“Fuck the jacket,” he replied quickly as he pulled off the vomit stained cloak. He tossed it into the corner of the room. “Bebita, I can replace that. There is only one of you, and you my love…oh honey…why didn’t you come tell me what was going on?”

She shrugged and looked down. He took a deep breath and in one swift movement, laid down next to her and pulled her body against his.

“We can figure that out later,” he said quietly as he held her. “Not now. Right now, Daddy is here.”

“Are you…are you going to send me away?” she whispered.

Valentino swallowed. “Send you away? No. Never. You’re my little girl.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “If you need the extra support, an inpatient stay, we’ll give it to you. But I would never, ever send you awake. We’ll do whatever it is we need to do to get you better. Life doesn’t need to be this hard, mi amore. It gets better. I promise.”

“I’m not crazy,” she sniffled. “Daddy, please..” “No one said you were,” he said soothingly. “My ninita.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I promise you, it gets better. And Daddy and Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel? We love you more than all the rings of hell. We’ll be by your side to support you- no matter what.” He held her ever so slightly tighter, “I love you, reader. We will get through this. I promise.”

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heathermason6060 · 23 days

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.”

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place.

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks.

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself.

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats.

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes.

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it.

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that.

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten.

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison.

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him.

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed.

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.”

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp.

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants.

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line.

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day.

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him.

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!”

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers.

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket.

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?”

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words.

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.”

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting.

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison.

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with.

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door.

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined.

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed.

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members.

“What do you think Jesse's up to?”

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.”

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.”

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again.

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members.

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother.

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions.

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

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sailor-aviator · 10 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Fluff, A smidgen of angst, Truths revealed, Kind of smut (heavy petting and making out), Magic, Supernatural elements.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: It's been a hot minute since we've heard from Skipper and Jake! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it was actually a real struggle to finish for some reason. Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You had always loved mermaids. You had always wondered what it must be like to live as half human and half fish, swimming beneath the blue waves of the sea and singing beautiful songs for everyone to hear. You wondered what it would be like to coast your fingers across the rocks and corals, interacting with the creatures below. Were there cities like Atlantica down there that only the merpeople knew about? Or did they migrate like whales?

“You know mermaids aren’t real, honey, right?” Your mother had asked you one day, brow furrowed in concern. You had let out a sigh that only a thirteen-year-old beginning their journey into the reality of life could give.

“Yeah, Mom,” you had frowned, looking out the window and onto the waters of the lake below. “I know.”

“Have you thought about maybe redecorating your room?” She continued, picking up your porcelain mermaid and eyeing it with vague distaste. You glanced over at her, turning to face her slightly.

“I like my things,” you grumbled, pressing your lips into a thin line. “They’re my treasures. And what’s wrong with liking mermaids and the ocean?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” she had sighed, setting it down. “Maybe it’s just time for you to start thinking about more serious things, is all.”

She gave you one last smile before walking out of the room, leaving you to ponder over her words.

Weeks later, her words still floated in your head, and you had relayed the conversation to your grandmother, your mother’s mother, one day as you sat in her living room. She had scowled, shaking her head and fixing you with a fierce look.

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” she groused. “Your mother means well, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. There’s magic in this world, believe you me, and it’s a rare person who continues to believe and see it. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and one day you’ll see the truth.”

And one day had finally come.

The waves crashed against the shore with a deafening sound, the wind whipping your hair about your face where it rested atop your knees, and the rock beneath you was vaguely damp, causing goosebumps to run up and down your skin. You had been out there for hours, needing time to come to reconcile what you thought you knew with what you now knew.

The scene on the beach earlier that morning replayed in your mind. The song, falling into the water, Mandy. It was a wonder you hadn’t run for the hills.

You had stood on the beach, soaked to the bone as the rest of the group stared at you like some kind of wild animal, like you might lash out at them at the most sudden of movements.

“Skip,” Bradley had started slowly, taking a small step towards where you stood, feet planted as firmly as they could be in the shifting sand. Your shoulders were drawn back, attempting to make yourself seem more confident than you actually were. In truth, you were still terrified, the adrenaline from your near death experience still running through your veins as your eyes darted the small group gathered around. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and it was an oddly cold, summer morning, and you fought the shiver that threatened to run up your spine. “Honey, it’s not that we don’t think you’re ready to know…”

He trailed off as you narrowed your eyes at him, anger starting to course through you. Bob cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him.

“It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the past hour,” he explained with a grimace. “We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Yeah!” Chirped Mickey. “Besides, you’re still wet, and we wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything.”

“Mickey is right,” Nat smiled gently, “you should get changed out of these clothes.”

She moved to grab your arm, but you shifted away, fixing her with a glare before your eyes once again shifted towards the other members.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you hissed, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “Stop treating me like I’m some child.”

Your eyes connected with familiar green ones, and your anger instantly dissipated into a sense of pleading. Jake stared back at you, face unreadable as he took you in. After a moment, he walked towards you, and you didn’t even think about stopping him as he stopped in front of you. He raised a hand, running his thumb lightly over the apple of your cheek, and you felt yourself relax into his touch.

“They’re right,” he said softly. You immediately stiffened, opening your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“I promise you, that we will tell you what you want to know. But for now,” he pauses, running his eyes up and down your form, grimacing at the sight of you. “For now, you need to go change into some dry clothes. We can talk more after, okay?”

You stared up at him for a moment, studying him. His eyes bore into yours, not a hint of deceit resting in them. Slowly, you nodded, and he let out a relieved sigh, squeezing your shoulders slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” he smiled, running his hands down your arms before releasing you. You preened at his words, feeling your cheeks warm as you glanced away.

“Okay,” Nat sighed, a relieved smile on her own face. “Now that that’s decided, let’s all head home to change and then we can regroup later.”

Bob had escorted you back home, leaving before you had finished your shower. So, you had walked, and you found yourself where you sat now, on the rocks just past Jake and Bradley’s house on the beach, the sky a dismal grey as the seagulls cried. No one was answering your texts, and while it annoyed you to no end to know that they were probably trying to come up with a way to get out of telling you, you remained secure in the fact that Jake had promised you they would tell you the truth. You let out a long sigh, trying to ease some of the tension out of your shoulders.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you right here.”

You jumped, whirling around to see the familiar green of Jake’s eyes as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, moving to sit next to you. His shoulder brushed yours in the process, and you inhaled a gasp, hoping he hadn’t heard you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“Care to share?”

“As if you don’t already know what they were about,” you scoffed, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. He chuckled, nodding slowly.

“You’re right.”

“What are you doing out here, Jake?” You asked. He let out a breath, rolling his shoulders back before answering.

“The others are still debating on what we should tell you, or what you can handle knowing right now. I snuck out to come and find you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, listening to the different sounds around you. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to break the calm between the two of you.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” you breathed, peering over at him. “Was I?”

Jake let out a sigh, leaning back against his arms as he continued to stare out into the ocean.

“You’ve heard the stories the older folks tell, right?” He asked finally, meeting your gaze. You nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“Well,” he started, looking back out at the water. “They’re all true.”

A beat passed.

“All of them?” You questioned, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You thought back to all of the things Mrs. Cambroni had told you. “Even the frenzy?”

Jake’s eyes grew wide, and his cheeks turned a brilliant red. He cleared his throat, looking away as he muttered, “Yes, even the frenzy.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?” He blinked, eyes still wide but holding confusion instead of shock.

“What’s the frenzy like,” you pressed, leaning in closer to him. He stared at you for another second before answering.

“It feels like a constant itch underneath my skin. A heat that I can’t dampen no matter what I do. It drives me crazier the older I get.”

“Is it dangerous?” You whisper.

“It can be,” he admitted slowly. “If we don’t take a mate before a certain time, then the magic becomes stronger because there’s nothing to siphon it in to. Mates help with controlling the magic, and our magic grows the older we get. If we don’t take a mate, then the magic will drive us crazy.”

“When does that happen?”

“There’s no real set number of frenzies you go through before it happens. For some, they can’t make it through their third one before they go crazy. For others, it could be their fourth or fifth one.”

“What about you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second you were worried that you had upset him with how still he was sitting.

“Me?” He chuckled humorlessly, drawing patterns on the rock beneath the two of you. “I can already feel my control slipping sometimes this go around, especially when I’m around you. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, brow furrowing. “I cause your control to slip? Why?”

Jake stared at you, eyes widening once again when he realized what he had said. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “You promised me that you would be honest and tell me what I wanted to know.”

He looked a little taken aback, but let out another sigh as he relented.

“Sea people have what they call ‘true mates,’” he began, “and they’re different from regular mates. True mates are an ideal pair, one the powers that be have ordained as a perfect match. Everyone can take a mate, sure, but very few ever find their true mate. They’re so rare, in fact, that some people think it’s just a myth.”

“Do you?” You asked. “Think it’s a myth, I mean.”

He stared at you for a beat.

“I used to,” he admitted. “I used to think that true mates were just some sappy fairytale that people clung to to make themselves feel better. I used to laugh at the idea, actually. It wasn’t until-”

He stopped, clamping his mouth closed as his cheeks tinged red once again. You furrowed your brow at him.

“Until what?” You pressed. He swallowed thickly, turning to look out at the water.

“Until I met you,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You let out a small gasp, but waited for him to continue.

“The first night I saw you in that bar, Skipper, I knew. I knew with everything in me that you were the one that I had been looking and waiting for my entire life. You were the one in my dreams growing up. You were the one I could feel in my chest, pulling me towards you. You were the one that made me realize that I could be happy, that I didn’t have to settle for a life that other people had decided for me.”

You stared at him, registering the look of vulnerability on his face, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“I dreamed about you too,” you admitted, causing him to look back at you. “Or, at least I think I did. And I always felt like something was incomplete, like a piece of me was always missing. But when I sit here with you, things just feel…right.”

“Right?” He pressed, leaning in so that your noses were practically brushing each other.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your heartbeat picking up at the close proximity. “Like things aren’t so hard when you’re around. Like I don’t even have to try. Things just feel easy around you, and if I’m being honest, that kind of scares me.”

He hummed, resting his forehead against yours, warm breath running over your face as he breathed out.

“It scares me too,” he said, closing his eyes, his hand reaching out to curl around yours where it rested atop the rock. “My whole life I thought I knew what would happen. I would marry Mandy, I would go work with my father at his business, we’d pop out a couple of kids, and then the rest of life would happen. I’d die in my bed of old age, surrounded by the people that I love having lived a life that anyone would be proud of.”

“And now?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes. You were almost taken aback by how beautiful they were. Swirling shades of sea glass green mixed with darker emerald, a look of pure longing on his face as he stared at you.

“Now, I know that’s not what I want,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be with Mandy. I don’t want to have the pristine, picture perfect family you find in commercials or magazines. I just want you, Skipper. I want you in any way that you’ll have me.”

His eyes were glowing now, the mossy green standing out against the growing darkness of the storm clouds that were rolling in from the sea.

“Your eyes,” you breathed, raising your unoccupied hand to run your fingers across his cheek. “They’re glowing. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.”

Jake nuzzled into the palm of your hand, humming low in his throat as he breathed you in. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a chaste kiss in the center of your palm, and your breath hitched. You shifted, leaning in close enough that your lips hovered just over his. His eyes once again connected with yours, boring into you as if he could see every single part that you kept hidden. Your gaze dropped down to his lips for a brief second before darting back up. Eyes hooded, you leaned in, lips barely grazing his before jumping back as the rain started.

The drops came in a downpour, instantly soaking the two of you as you let out a startled laugh.

“Come on!” Jake grinned, gripping your hand and helping you off the rocks before the two of you sprinted towards his house. You trotted up the steps after him, letting out another peel of breathless laughter as the two of you caught your breath. You looked out at the beach as it continued to pour, a peel of thunder cracking through the roar of the rain. You turned back to look at Jake with a smile, shaking your head.

“The rain didn’t even build up to-”

Jake’s lips were soft on yours, pressing firmly as he cupped your cheek in his hand. You froze, taken by surprise. He pulled back after a second, eyes uncertain as they watched you.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, eyes growing wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought after the rocks and you were standing there looking so pretty, I just-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, and he stiffened for a second before returning it. His hands landed on your waist, backing you up against the pillar by the stairs as his lips moved against yours in a heated bid to feel every part of you. Your own hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling on the still wet strands gently and earning a groan from him. His tongue traced your lower lip, and you instantly opened up to him, relishing in the feeling of the muscle against your own.

Jake’s grip tightened on your waist before moving his right hand up to grope at your breast, squeezing it with a low groan. You moaned into his mouth, one hand releasing his hair to slide down and grip at his shoulder as you pressed against him. He continued to lick languidly into your mouth, savoring the taste of you and every little sound you made. He pulled away to allow you to breathe, nipping at your bottom lip gently. As you sucked in a lungful of air, he busied himself with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and you felt him smirk against you as his left hand grabbed your thigh to wrap your leg around him. You could feel the hard bulge press against you, and a tingle ran up your spine.

“Jake,” you breathed out, head thrown back as he nipped at your skin, running his tongue over the same spot to soothe the sting. His lips worked lower and lower as you began to roll your hips against his. You let out a strangled cry as his lips connected with the intention mark on your neck, pleasure rippling through your veins as you gripped onto him and ground down harder onto him. Jake nipped at the mark, causing you to let out another cry as your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders through his shirt. You could feel your arousal dripping from you as your mind grew heavy with lust.

Suddenly, Jake pushed away from you, practically throwing himself across the porch. You whined at the loss, brow furrowed in confusion as you took in the state of him. He was panting hard, almost crouched as he gripped the porch railing to steady himself. His eyes were still glowing, brighter than they were previously, but fading in and out as he calmed down.

“Jake,” you murmured, “are you okay?”

“Not like this,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“What are you talking about? Jake, you’re worrying me.”

He looked at you then, taking in your disheveled state as he righted himself. A mixture of regret and longing adorned his face as he spoke.

“I gave that mark to you during a moment of frenzy,” he admitted, gesturing to the bite in question. “I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it, and the frenzy magic was already in overdrive. I gave it to you without thinking, and I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, taking small steps towards him as if you might scare him off otherwise. “I’m not mad about that at all, but why are you suddenly acting this way?”

“Because,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “because I already told you. I want you, Skipper, and I want you to want me back. I want to know that you want me for me and not because of some damn magic that tells us we’re supposed to be together.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing what he was telling you. It was true that you felt a pull towards him that could only be explained by the magic, but it felt so much more than that. Jake was sweet and kind, and he cared for you. He made sure that you were taken care of when you were vulnerable, and he wanted to hear your opinions on things. You did want Jake beyond the magic, but you were more than willing to take the time to prove that to him.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Can we,” he swallowed thickly, eyes hopeful as they searched you. “Can we take it a little slow? Maybe spend some time alone together?”

“You mean like on dates?” You smiled, standing in front of him now and batting your lashes at him. A grin tugged on the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, giving you a nod.

“Yeah. I want to take you out on a date.”

“Just the one?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a full-blown grin on his face now.

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me more than just that,” he teased back, leaning into you again. You tapped a finger on your chin thoughtfully.

“I dunno,” you hummed, fighting back the smile that threatened to overtake you. “I guess we’ll just have to see how the first one goes, won’t we?”

“I have full confidence in myself that I’ll be able to convince you of that second date.”

“Come on, Crooner,” you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front door. “Let’s get changed before we catch a cold or something.”

About a half hour later, you were dressed in a pair of oversized sweats and an old t-shirt - both belonging to Jake. The two of you were huddled up on the couch underneath a blanket, some random movie thrown on to fill the silence. Your legs were curled under you as you rested against Jake’s side, his arms wrapped around you as you played with his fingers.

“You bit him?” You huffed out a laugh as Jake chuckled. “Why?”

“Because Bradley gets a little big for his britches sometimes,” Jake defended. “He knew I had an interest in you and what we were, and he still pressed his luck. Even with the mark on your neck. ”

“Boys,” you exclaimed with a roll of your eyes. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the movie continued to drone on in the background.

“Jake,” you hummed thoughtfully, “do you regret giving me this mark?”

He stiffened against you, and you chanced a glance up at him. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brow furrowed as he looked at you.

“Absolutely not,” he bit out. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just,” you hesitated, still fidgeting with his fingers as you looked down, “it’s just been one thing after the other since you gave it to me. Am I really worth the trouble?”

“Skipper,” he said firmly, cupping your jaw and making you look at him. “I will never regret you, okay? Even if you decide that this isn’t something you want, I will live the rest of my life knowing that I had the privilege of having you even for a moment.”

His eyes were sincere as they held your gaze, and you suddenly felt silly for doubting him. You nodded, willing the tears that prickled behind your eyes to go away. You sniffed before settling back down against him, basking in the feeling of him stroking a hand through your hair.

“Jake! We can’t find Skipper anywh-”

You jumped as the front door burst open to reveal your friends, Bob at the front of the pack. All of you stared at one another before you raised an eyebrow at them.

“Are you coming in or not?” You snapped, fixing them all with a glare. Jake turned the TV off as the squad filed in, taking seats wherever there was one available. Once everyone was settled, you continued.

“Finally decide on how you’re going to lie to me some more? Whatever you came up with, I sure hope it’s better than the ones you were telling me before.”

The group had the decency to look ashamed. Bob gave you an apologetic look as he faced you from where he sat in one of the recliners.

“We never wanted to lie to you, Y/n,” he explained. “But would you have believed the truth?”

“I might have,” you countered. “You could have at least tried.”

“Would you trust an outsider that you barely knew with a secret like this?” Javy chimed in. He made a good point, and your silence answered for you.

“I wanted to tell you, Skipper,” Bob continued, “but it wasn’t my secret to tell. And with all the stuff between you and Jake, it just seemed like it would be so much to throw at you.”

“I get that,” you conceded, nodding slowly. “But Jake’s already told me most of everything, so no more lying to me, okay? I need to know and be kept in the loop moving forward okay?”

Everyone looked at each other before nodding at you. You gave them a small smile before letting out a relieved breath.

“Good,” you chirped. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

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#meet me at the sea #mmats #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you

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indigosabyss · 9 months

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"My name is Ishigami Senku." The voice over the transmission announced to the gaping crowd of NASA's finest, "And I'm calling from three thousand, seven hundred and forty one years in the future."

"You think he's being legit?" Someone asked.

"Sure seems like it." Another agreed, "It would explain how the transmission doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere at all."

"Say we believe you." Their chosen spokesperson said into the transceiver, "Why would you call us?"

"To stop a crisis that will lead to the death of 99.975% of the human population. Time is of the essence, so tell me: have you seen stone swallows lying around?"

----

The initial call sent the international scientific community into crisis mode.

Day in and day out, they conversed with these scientists of the future. Even ones who weren't Senku. After the initial shock of finding out that people from their age were still alive four thousand years ago, they adjusted quickly.

Of course, it wasn't all diligent work and apocalypse thwarting.

"Ha-HA!" A voice they had never heard before echoed over the Time Call, which was open almost 24/7, "So, this is our way to the past? I desire it!"

"The hell...?" Luke whispered, looking at Mandy, who shrugged wordlessly.

"Listen up, anyone who's there. I know you're taking orders from Senku and the others, so I need you to do a favor for me."

Their spokesperson hesitantly put her hand down to activate the transceiver, "Uh, okay? What's the favor?"

The boy on the other side called excitedly, becoming more ecstatic with every word, "I want you to go to the CEO of the Nanami Conglomerate. And tell him that his bastard children did what he never could, and have taken control of the entire world's capital. And it's just us two featured in the official family portraits! And then, tell him to go fuck hi-" He was cut off by someone bodily dragging him away from the mic.

"What is wrong with you?" Sai, the future's best computer programmer, yelled, barely in range of the microphone.

"Should we be listening to this?" Mandy asked.

"I desire vengeance!" The rambunctious boy insisted. There was a sound of a scuffle, and then Sai spoke again, closer to the mic and clearly addressing them.

"Sorry about that. My little brother is... a bit out there. It was probably the family ostracization."

They all clearly wanted to know more. This wasn't the first shred of juicy gossip from the future they'd gotten, but the spokesperson was nothing if not professional.

"Let's just get back to work, yeah?"

Boo.

[Part of a larger DCST time travel fic I really don't have the time to write, so I just put in the two snippets that obsessed me the most. Tell me if I should continue this into a proper fic!]

#dr stone #dcst #nanami ryusui #nanami sai #ishigami senku #dcst fanfic #dr stone 4d science #let ryusui be a gremlin #ibis ficlets #call back a warning au

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sgiandubh · 1 year

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Jottings: Season 7, Episode 2. Nothing compares to them

A tiny, but welcome disclaimer: I have not read all the OL books yet, so do not expect witty repartees and connecting the dots with the current book follow-up by the series. In fact, I am still struggling right now with Voyager, after I gave a resolute middle finger and an excruciating amount of time to Dragonfly in Amber, which bored me to death with its sketchy depiction of eighteenth-century Paris. Unpopular opinion, I know: I can't help it, since I consider Paris, for many personal reasons, as my second, beloved home.

There go my two cents, with little to no spoilers. There is much to savor in there:

I thought I couldn't bear to watch one more single time Sinéad O'Connor's rendition of ye olde Skye Boat Song. I was wrong. I think it is exactly what this season needs: a bit bruised & battered & breathless. The perfect tinge of rough around the edges. This is no walk in the park and hers is the right cue, setting the tone for all the rest.

Vlachos. Excellent. Loved every second of it.

I suppose everybody will talk about the Look Jamie gave Claire right after Insufferable Bree gives birth to wee Mandy. I cackled all by myself, which is not even surprising. And so will you, Shippers United. Mark me.

SS upgraded a bit her game, to the extent she doesn't sound all the time like reciting United Airlines' flight schedule. She and Rankin finally manage to pull off a decent rapport (chemistry will always be at a deep-frozen 0). So, rejoice: at least they don't look like the mean troop leader forced them to share the same tent at Camp Sunrise. It's all fine and dandy, until she relaxes and slips back into that horrific, East Coast wannabe accent. Sorry, not sorry.

Did Lizzie say ”Fraser's Fridge”, when reading the birth announcement, or am I hearing things again? Now that's an earworm, sheesh...

Vandervaart looks promising enough, but what do I know, after a two-minutes scene with SS? Court is adjourned.

LJG & JAMMF, what a powerful, ambiguous, elegant scene. Tension is mounting, and this is when you crack open the Netflix & Chill'd ice cream bucket. It will come in handy, trust me.

The fireflies' scene was the death of me. There is something extraordinary about S's superb ability to speak volumes without uttering a single word. There is so much love and such despair to capture Bree's face, Bree's voice, Bree's alien joy when she mentions damn Mickey Mouse, and keep them forever. Did I ugly cry? I let out a sincere Fuuuuuck and couldn't help it. This is when the box of tissues came in handy, and you know, damn the consequences.

Dear (?) Diana Gabaldon: GET THAT WONDERFUL MAN THROUGH THE STONES, WHERE THERE'S PENICILLIN AND A HOT BATH AND A HIGHER AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY, STAT.

Yeah, sure. She missed that point five seasons ago, why do I even bother?

Spoiler: "What was it like.... there? It was.... magical". BOOO-HOOO-HOOO (I have no qualms).

Jeremiah's wooden toy plane in the streets of Wilmington and then the real thing across the sky, just after the little family gets through the stones. Clever reminder of that plane landing in Boston, with Claire, Bree and TMcG... ho-hum ... Frank Randall, after Culloden.

And finally, since I would really like to let you enjoy the wonderful last quarter of it, Jamie and Claire. That unspeakable tenderness that keeps us all completely spellbound. This is S&C acting, how could it be otherwise: and splendid, at that. But their acting, since that chemistry test, is informed by clear, present, deep feelings. We know. They know we know.

And they got their mojo back. I always hoped and prayed they will go out with a bang, not a fizzle. And it seems I was right. Fingers crossed. I trust them and, as always, I trust my gut.

#jottings

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golden28s · 10 months

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it's december and christmas is coming so i wanted to share some of my gallavich christmas headcanons 🎄

and maybe maybe ill write some ficlets based on some of them

- mickey didn't like or understand christmas at all but ian slowly started to "push" him to participate in some stuff like decorating the tree, making dinner for christmas eve, putting some cute lights on their balcony, etc

- mickey pretended he didn't care about decorating the tree at first but ian found him at midnight changing decorations claiming ian did it wrong and had no taste, ian smiled and kissed his forehead.

- ian gets kinda sad during christmas, he still kinda misses his mum and every time mickey notices he's getting sad or he's not having a good day, he makes special plans that day. normally is going on a walk and see the lights, going to christmas markets and buy cute, original decorations for their tree and other times is just them in the fireplace, hot chocolate and one of ian's fav christmas movie that mickey forces himself to like.

- they celebrate new year's eve with the gallaghers but ian and mickey always sneak out and have their own private countdown and kiss at midnight. mickey calls him softie and kisses him again.

- they open their presents together and their rule is to not buy nothing too expensive and mickey is too good at that because he remembers ian's interests and likes too well so he always buys stuff that is useful or can be homemade, and it warms ian's heart every single christmas.

- ian insisted on starting different traditions at their first christmas together as a married couple because he knew mickey didn't have good memories of christmas during his childhood. he even made some of those childhood christmas dreams come true.

- once they have kids they're gonna be really annoying about christmas and ian will want family pictures with matching outfits.

-mickey will absolutely start to dress as santa claus after that one christmas where their kids almost caught them organizing the presents under the tree

-before the kids, they had morning sex the morning of the new year and ian always made a joke about that and mickey laughed and then proceed to deny that he laughed.

-mickey actually likes christmas sweaters

-finally, when mandy is in town ian, mickey and the gallaghers have a secret santa that ian and mickey absolutely use to be embarrassing, shameless and in love and make it everyone's problem.

#gallavich #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich headcanon

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lousirs · 5 months

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If you could add scenes or change certain designs to the uglydolls movie what would they be ? (Idk alternate institute design or random filler scenes)

For exemple i wish they insisted more onto the « doll school/training » thing.

Or another exemple, i had this idea where instead of Ox finding out bout Moxy and mandy being in danger with the printer thingy, he would’ve (seeing moxy’s missing) suspected Lou done something/has hurt Moxy and while running in the Pipe to the institute, he hears Moxy and mandy screaming for help (would’ve added a lot if you think bout it)

Gotta save this 65mill$ budget 💪💪🤩🤩

good question and wonderful ideas! i very much agree with the ox finding moxy/mandy scene. he should've been worried that he hadn't seen moxy in a while. sure, she was upset, but she is never so quiet... so he goes to check up on her, only to find an empty room, and panic arises. he tells the other uglydolls, and they go around town calling her name. and then ox reaches the sunflower pipe. realisation sinks in: "lou must've gotten her". and so the uglydolls help each other to get up the pipe, and through the darkness there is a faint red glow and screams for help.... dramatic... but maybe a bit too dark for a kids film, who knows xDDD

anywho, i have a lot of things i would change about the movie tbh, but to name a few: (buckle up everyone cause i got a lot to say)

first and foremost GIVE THE UGLYDOLLS (besides moxy and ox) A PURPOSE. babo, wage, luckybat and uglydog are the main characters technically, and yet they serve no purpose. if you removed them, and only had moxy find the institute, nothing would've changed. my fix? allow them to do what they are good at to win over the prettydolls.

from what is shown, i'm guesisng moxy is a reporter, luckybat is a fortune teller (or something like that), wage is a cook, babo is a builder and uglydog is a DJ. so! have luckybat tell the prettydolls fortunes (reading their palms or something idk), have wage cook them a nice meal, have babo build a cool contraption for them and uglydog host a dance party. and all the while, moxy is writing about the institute, life there, how lou is a big ol' meanie head, etc. this would've fixed so much, because in the film, the prettydolls turned on lou so quickly, so GIVE THEM MORE OF A REASON TO besides "ew prototype" and "he kicked a baby!!!". make the prettydolls warm up to the uglydolls, not due to their appearance, but due to who they are inside and what they enjoy doing. make them think that lou is wrong for being so cruel to them.

speaking of this, moxy writing down everything about the institute (perhaps to put into the uglyville newspaper) could be a point of tension! lou doesn't want his reputation to be smeared, so there could be a scene (i'd say after the training montage where lou is further trying to dissuade moxy) where lou tears up all the pages of her notepad, leaving her feeling devastated, but still determined to carry on despite the odds.

the only other point i have about the uglydolls is their designs. i would've loved to see them more like their original counterparts, cause they feel a bit too cutesy to be truly 'ugly' or whatever in the film. especially the stitches around the eyes, they should've kept that!! more of a handcrafted ragdoll look, i suppose!

for the institute... i feel like this is a hot take, but i like how empty it is. kind of shows how empty and artificial trying to be 'perfect' is. the repetitiveness of the institute also works to show that as well... buuut they could've taken it further. perhaps they could've gone for the more city-like area like they did in concept arts, but have it a lot more organised (too organised), so everything feels disorientating. for instance, the dolls houses are all clunked into a square area, same with the training course, etc.

this concept art, although looking sterile, still feels quite open and lively, like that of a big city. so they could make it feel more suffocating? who knows.

(i get that uglyville is quite clustered and tightly packed too, but that feels more like a comfortable closeness)(so the institute could be an uncomfortable closeness)

one scene they could've added for the prettydolls is the spy girls being hesitant to throw moxy and mandy in recycling. their expressions as moxy is going down the pipe shows fear and regret, and yet this brief, and they go back to being fine afterwards??? i get lou not giving a shit, but c'mon girls, you just helped kill two dolls! kidnapping isn't good either, but recycling innocent dolls is on a whole other level.

even if it was just a small piece of dialogue between the girls and lou, it would've worked... like:

"surely you aren't going to actually recycle them? that's way too far lou!"

"we didn't agree to this lou! you just told us to take them to you!"

and lou shuts them up and says how they'll be perfect yada yada idk. and that could be a breaking point for the girls, where they begin to distrust lou, because bro's a maniac.

i've mentioned this in a previous post, but i believe that the novel's version of lou and ox's backstory makes a lot more sense, in how lou stepped on the line ox was passing to make it seem like he failed the gauntlet, and the robots dragging ox to recycling. instead of ox making other dolls fail, and lou being like "imma show you recycling now. cya bub"

similarly, mandy getting the audience to coax lou into running the gauntlet makes more sense than him running the gauntlet on his own accord, fully knowing that he would be exposed. yay, peer pressure!

nit-pick here, but i wish they made nolan more 'imperfect' design-wise. although yeah, his hair and eyes are different colours and his uniform is too small, he has no socks and lost a button and has freckles, it all seems too... polished? like, his freckles are just around the cheeks, and although yeah, people can have exactly that irl, i would've loved if they went harder on it. same with his hair, the green parts are in a neat clump, that still matches the hair model of the doll. so fuck it! have him have messy hair with green strands randomly placed on his head, make his freckles heavier, so they cover his arms and legs etc too, make his uniform have hanging out threads and missing parts, etc etc! alsooo further push him having a long neck, small head, being tall, whatever. cause it's barely noticeable... (which i guess works cause lou picks up on the smallest of things but stillll i want a more 'imperfect' nolan xD)

that's all i can think of for now, and the post is long enough as it is sooo yeah xP

#uglydolls #ask #asks #lou uglydolls

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kandyzee · 6 months

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I love season 1 mandy and season 2+ mandy for different reasons. Yeah, they are the same character, but I appreciate the different eras in separate ways. I don't really have a favourite like most people do.

Season 1 mandy is great because it shows us how young she is. We are introduced to a very fun, loving 15-year-old girl. She's sassy and easy to love. Her problems are never talked about with any weight behind it, and to me, that's PERFECT. So many of her actions are framed more "childish" at least in my eyes. Seasons one mandy just makes me appreciate her in later seasons even more.

We need to see that she is a typical young girl. She has boy trouble and gets in arguments with her friends over eyeliner. Mandy has dyed hair and a relatively distinct fashion sense. She's still trying to find herself just like everyone else.

When we watch mandy grow and full into bad situations, s1 mandy is what makes it make sense.

Mandy in the later seasons is amazing cause she shows (VERY WELL) how growing up in an environment like she did can change a person. We see lots of her problems clearly and I think that's because she's at an age where she can really recognise them. It's these seasons we are introduced into her depth as a character.Mandy is s1 called her brothers for help with Ian (ik he did nothing wrong) but she goes to that teachers house herself s3. Mandy matures.

I think a lot of people wouldn't sympathise with mandy nearly as much in later seasons if she straight up introduced as this complex independent and troubled teengirl.

We see her ups and downs. Right before mandy leaves the show and seems to be getting her shit together, it's nice to know that she's gonna start becoming more like that fun loving 15-year-old girl.

PLEASE STOP ACTING LIKE I CAN ONLY LIKE ONE VERSION OF HER.

#shameless us #mandy milkovich #literally just yapping #s1 mandy milkovich #the milkoviches #shameless mandy

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writingcold · 10 months

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Welcome to Chapter Seven and Eight of Best Laid Plans

A/N: A return to their friendship will mean the world to them, won’t it? The following part is… rough. I did place another mature label on for reasons. Just be aware that this does include adultery and adult sexual situations.

This is a complete fiction - totally made up. I do not, nor will I ever know Jake or any member of GVF. That said, this story is mine. Please respect that.

@takenbythemadness is probably getting sick of me praising her for helping me, but she really hung in there, especially these pending parts. I appreciate you so much, my friend! 😘

Content warnings: Language. Alcohol. Misogynistic character - and he really rears his head in these chapters. Jealousy (if you squint super hard). Infidelity, adultery. Adult situations. Heavy adult situations. Sexual situations. Regret. Heavy, crushing arguments and angst. Poor view of self.

Word count: approx. 9100

Chapter 7: April, 1989: Jake POV

“Yikes,” I said as I stopped on the shared landing between the two buildings.

Amanda had just let the door of the apartment swing open and it nearly fell off its hinges. A curse flowed between her lips as she stepped inside. She gagged before slapping a hand across her mouth and nose. It was retched.

“You didn’t look up here before you made the offer?” I asked, grimacing as my eyes took in the disaster of the space.

“No,” she groaned. “I mean it was right in the agreement - as is, furnished. I knew it was going to be gross, but this is beyond nasty.”

My brows lifted as I remained outside. “How long can you stay with your parents? This might take a while to fix up.”

She laughed as she stepped over piles of trash. “I can do this. Surely there’s a crew I can hire to empty it out just to get a better grip on what is happening in here.”

I had to hand it to her, Mandy was determined. I knew what it meant if she was determined - nothing would stop her. I watched from a distance as she progressed - first nesting in the apartment, then in the shop below. She set a steady pace and worked well with craftsmen to get exactly what she needed. Before Labor Day, the exterior of her establishment was cleaned with freshly pointed mortar, new paint and glass in the windows. She confided that her opening would be before the autumn tourist season to reap the dual purpose - the curiosity of those watching if she’d fail, and the seasonal and holiday shopping dollars that would float the business. It was smart.

It was not lost on me that her husband visited only twice in three months. He was still a dick to her. He was still loud and arrogant. But he had only seen her for a grand total of five days in three months. What kind of an asshole does that? To Mandy? Was I stepping over line noticing that? Probably, but it was just wrong.

I was healing. The wounds within were deep. Georgia had spent the better part of the last years of our marriage trying to stay sober. She would try and fail. She would try again and fail again. Each time, she fell deeper. I could no longer care for her. Rehab had become a game. She learned how to hide the addiction better. She learned how to evade me better. And then we reached a point where we both knew the marriage was over. It was like she had taken every last piece of good from me and refused to return any of it. I guess that would be wrong. She did grant me the divorce. She did take my offer to assist her to become a ward of the state as her medical bills were a burden she could not handle. It was the best that I could for her in the end without killing the rest of me. I even helped her move to Detroit so as to be closer to services that were offered there that were not accessible in Frankenmuth.

I was healing. I did as I had for years - took care of my shop, banked studio hours, and got gig work from time to time. It felt good to be on my own. Josh was doing very well in his job shooting commercials and documentaries. He would visit often, especially when the divorce was new. Sam was killing it on the west coast. He had some job none of us truly understood what he did, but he did it successfully. Ronnie stayed close to home like I did. I got to dote on my nephew and new baby niece whenever I wanted to. I gutted the small house and remodeled everything like I was erasing her, when in truth, I was allowing myself to step to the fore. I was allowing myself to be what I needed to be.

When Amanda purchased the Connray building next door, it was like a reset took place. It was like my timeline, though not totally correct, was inching closer to what could have been. We had fallen into being good friends. It was a part of our relationship that I had cherished deeply and missed profoundly when it was gone. We fell into a routine, me bringing coffee and both of us standing outside watching her contractor getting to work. She was able to move into the apartment upstairs, to which the small space was cozy and all Amanda. Soft and gentle. Well, maybe not so gentle.

She launched into Martin’s one Saturday night completely off kilter in an oversized t-shirt and beat up slippers. I had forgotten to tell my neighbor that there was going to be a band practicing on the other side of her bedroom wall. I presented her with earplugs and a smile while begging for forgiveness. It was a rare misstep and she knew it. I was better about the big room schedule with her from that time on.

I was there in support of her opening the third week of September. Sparrow Books and Curios was amazing. She was literally glowing as the shop was swamped with people. Mandy was an instant success. It was great to see her family swell around her and fill in the gaps as her staff was learning the ropes right along with her. Her gamble to open in the fall had paid off. There was one notable absence and it was not my place to ask where Roger was on the biggest day of his wife’s year. Instead of dwelling, I retreated to my own shop as work was stacked to the ceiling in preparation for the holiday concert season and sales.

My shop closed an hour before hers did that night. I drifted over with Bugger and Meg to check to see if the festivities were still going. Indeed, the shop was filled with the after work crowd. Mandy was still buzzing around with the energy level of a child. I wandered her space, my eye catching a few titles that I had not seen at the library yet and latched onto them.

“Hey,” she sighed from behind me as I was reading the back cover of a biography on Lightnin Hopkins.

“Oh, the lady of the hour,” I teased as I added to my stack. “You’ve had a big day.”

“It’s been great,” she said with a nod. She leaned towards me, her head resting on the edge of the shelf. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

I smiled at her. I smiled over her nearness and familiar touch.

“Jake?”

The spell was broken when I saw Tessa come into view. The timing could not have been worse. I tried to will her from not mentioning our pending date. I smiled kindly, but under my skin I was screaming at the woman to just keep moving on.

“We’re still on for dinner Friday night?” she asked as she barely glanced at my companion.

I nodded with a quick look to Mandy. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” she cooed as she pressed the sleeve of my coat down so as to see what I was purchasing. “Pirate bluesman, huh?”

I couldn’t help the amused smile that pierce my lips. She said a ‘see you later’ as she was called to the front by a friend. I could feel something tugging at my side and realized that Mandy was shaking softly with a pent up laugh. I pressed the tip of my tongue to my back teeth as she could not hold the tide back any longer.

“That wasn’t nice,” I sighed, finally looking down at her as she leaned into my shoulder.

“Tessa Parker? Really?” she laughed harder as I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling.

“Not like there’s a ton of single ladies in this town,” I griped as I shifted my pile of books in my arm.

“But why her? She still thinks that she’s head bitch cheerleader on homecoming night,” she remarked, moving away from me.

I heard her repeat ‘pirate bluesman’ in a whiny, mocking manner and I had to pause as she seemed to remove herself completely at that point. I paid for my books just as the last customers were leaving and the door was closing for the night. Mandy waved at me to wait, so I found a place to sit and started to flip through pages without really looking at them.

“Do you have plans? Can I treat you to supper?” she asked as she was closing up the register.

“I should be treating you for having such a fantastic day,” I said, my eyes straying to some pieces of local art on the wall that I thought would look good in my living room.

“How about we split the check and eat ourselves silly on Blaine’s pie?”

I laughed with a nod. I knew better than to go. Her gravity was threatening to overwhelm me already. She thanked Robin and Mick as they finished up and headed for the door out. I aided her with her coat before locking up and heading into the light snowflakes of the evening. I waved at Meg in Martin’s as we passed. She flashed a sideways grin and a raised eyebrow. I was sure to hear about it in the morning.

Blaine’s was busy, but we were able to slide into our booth. I let Mandy order while I just nodded and asked for coffee.

“So, you survived your first day,” I replied once our mugs were in front of us. “How you feeling?”

It was stupid to ask. I could read her happiness all across her skin and see how it radiated outward in triumph. The huge smile that broke across her mouth sent my heart pounding like a drum. I found myself wondering if she felt it in the air between us - the pull, the attraction that was never cooled. From moment to moment, my brain would dial my memories back to when we were younger, doing just this - shoving pie into our faces as we laughed at each other, with each other. I found myself wondering if she knew she was more beautiful to me now than she was to me back then. I hung onto every word, every breath, every laugh for they were precious.

Amanda POV

I was on my way. Sparrow continued to draw people in for the holiday shopping season. I was able to attract more local artisans to showcase anything from paintings to statuary and jewelry. I was up on the ladder hanging a new landscape set from Uther Bryant when the door chimed. I was expecting Jake with his usual coffee to share, but instead, I was having to hide my disappointment to find my husband standing with a bag in hand and a curled lip.

“Quaint.”

It was all he could say about my work. Quaint. He barely looked around at all my touches that I had worked so hard on. He tugged on the edge of my denim skirt before I was ready and had to catch myself at the top of the ladder, my heart lurching into my throat from fear of falling.

“I’m only here a few days,” he said quietly, his tone harder than normal. “You can let them take care of this nonsense.”

By the time my foot landed on the floor, I was chewing my anger like bubblegum. Before I could speak my mind, he had my upper arm clenched in his hand tugging me towards the back door. I looked back, seeing that Jake watched from the window, his face heated with anger. I gasped out a breath as I was pushed out onto the slippery sidewalk and cowed towards the stairs.

My hand came down on the rail and I forced my tread to a stop. “Roger!”

“What the hell, Amanda,” he hissed. “Most women would think it was romantic that their husband comes home and takes them away for a day of sex. What is wrong with you?”

“I have a job - a business - to take care of,” I remarked coolly, my eyes sweeping around to make sure no one was around to hear us.

“You have employees to run things,” he said, trying to lean down and nuzzle my neck. “Come on, Mandy. I need this. I need you.”

Is there shame around my edges about the fact that I went up those stairs that morning and stayed with my husband? Yeah. My business was so new, it was expected that I would be in that shop. The fact that he was so flippant about it bruised me. I wanted to argue that I was working hard - just as hard as he was. I may not be turning a profit yet, but it would come. I was not utilizing any of his money for my own venture. This was all mine. Success or fail, I would claim it as my own. It was always my plan.

Christmas and after holiday shopping came and went. I took the month of January to settle in, look at what was working, what wasn’t. Roger did not come home for the holidays, opting to breeze through for a night before heading out west. February I started putting together a calendar of events that included poetry readings, book talks and even a senior citizen book club. March I knew it was stretching thin. I needed the tourist season to kick in soon to keep my bills paid. While I visited Des Moines over a long weekend, I stopped in a bookstore that offered coffee and treats. I knew just the area to try the idea. I was sketching plans the rest of my visit, not that my husband noticed. He was out the door before I was for a sales conference in Las Vegas.

At the end of the day, skating into the night, and lingering in the depths between the two, I came to a realization. I was lonely. I loved Sparrow. No matter what, I would get her to fly and see success. Roger made me feel lonely and it didn't matter if I was with him or not. He could be commanding the room I was in, and it was like I was deflated just enough that I could fold myself up and be ignored under the corner of the couch. It was baffling how I could feel this way in my own home. With my spouse.

I started reconnecting with old friends, even establishing a girl’s night where we’d get together for dinner and drinks once a month. For our April meet up, we picked Babcia’s - the closest thing to fancy in town. There were six of us, crowded around a round table, just taking each other in and drinking copious amounts of wine. Our laughter centered around our families, or lack there of, and what was happening in our lives. It was fun. No one really asked me deep questions after I evaded a few about Roger. It was obvious that I was not in the mood to talk about it. Because, really? Why would I want to talk about what was rapidly becoming a bleak wasteland across my heart?

We were stuffing ourselves with perogies, kielbasa, and cabbage rolls when I noticed in the far corner, Jeanette Williams sat; her pretty face all aglow from the lit table candle. She was fiddling with her bag until a familiar presence joined her. I watched as Jake sat across from her, his back to me. I couldn’t help but stare. She was so quick to laugh. I could hear his voice mingling with hers. Her eyes would light up as their conversation seemed to meander across subjects. My heart constricted painfully as I tried to look away. Tried to not acknowledge what was happening. It was not my business. It was not my business… It was not my…

“You know what we’ve not done in ages?” Marni was practically yelling across the table at me to get my attention. “We should go play pool at Miller’s and get stupid drunk.”

At first, my gut said no. But then my brain said fuck that. I found myself agreeing before smarter thoughts filtered through my already buzzing body. I swallowed hard as I watched Jake reaching for Jeanette’s hand, smoothing across her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. She blushed. She fucking blushed as he leaned forward to talk softly to her. We couldn’t settle the check fast enough and get out of there.

It turned into a lousy night of pool and beer, but I danced my ass off. In the quietness of my apartment, I decided in my drunken state, to analyze why seeing Jake with Jeanette bothered me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that he was dating. He was dating often with a wide range of women. And I didn’t care. In the end, I was a married woman. Jake was not my husband. Those acrid words set my skin on fire. How, after nearly ten years, did this man still have such a pull across my everything. And the startling truth of the matter was that it was his mistake - his betrayal - that put us where we currently were. I had not realized until that moment, that I had never truly accepted what had happened. I had never allowed myself to truly mourn that he had hurt me. He had broken my trust. I evaded that piece and threw myself into school and work and relationship after relationship that would never fully match what I had with him. Between my slow tears, I realized that Jeanette was a forever kind of lady. What I saw stirring in the air between them was the innocence that I could never grasp once Jake was gone.

Jake was still part of my daily routine. He joined me for morning coffee every morning. We’d talk about nothing and everything. We’d part with smiles. Every now and then, after the shop would close and it was late, I would hear him playing. I would sit at one of the coffee tables and just listen to him wail through shared favorites and notes that were foreign to me. All of it was Jake. All of it was Jake with traces of my touch lingering against him in ways that I wondered if he still felt.

Roger passed through town every few weeks or so. He would show up unannounced, spend a few days telling me what I was doing wrong with my shop, and leave. I don’t think I ever felt so thin as I did standing in his presence. May was rounding the calendar and it was nothing but rain for days. I took a quiet Sunday to curl up in bed for the day, shutting out the world and all of its tragedy. I was half way through a movie I was not watching and a few pages in on a book that I was not reading when the phone rang. When I answered, there was a stretch of silence. It was so long that I said my ‘hello’ again.

“Is Roger there?”

The feminine voice on the line was quivering with a hesitancy that struck me as odd. “No. This is his wife. Can I help you?”

Silence. I could feel it coming across the receiver, a crisp anger and defeat at the same time that prickled against my ear.

“When is he planning on being there?”

It was an oddly put question. This was home. Why didn’t she ask when he was going to be home?

“Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name…”

“I didn’t give you one.”

The ire boiled through my gut at the woman’s curtness. “Look. I don’t know who you are, but if you are looking for Roger, I have told you that he is not home. He will not be home for a few more days. If you want to leave me you name and number-”

“Really?” The woman’s voice became shrill on the other end, the anger snapping into a frenzy. “Okay, how about this, Amanda, you write this down carefully so as to tell Roger that the baby has been born and that Lydia, that’d be me, is waiting for him to come to his home to see his child.”

My jaw might have dropped. The abrupt shift in her tone made me want to vomit.

“I know you’re a bit slow, so did you get all that?”

I hung up. There was nothing I could do other than stand there, robe hanging off my shoulder, jaw hanging to the floor. Was it real? Was that woman real? Was what she said real?

When the phone rang that evening, I did not answer it. I stared at the table, willing it to just stop. Not even a minute passed before it started to ring again. I don’t know how to describe what was in my body. The emotions were dull. The pain was nondescript. I couldn’t figure out if I was angry. Sad? Hurt? Regardless, I was not ready to speak to Roger. I was not ready to speak to myself.

Chapter 8: May, 1989: Jake POV

When I started the work week, things were quiet. In all honesty, things had been quiet for weeks. But it was a good quiet. Jeanette and I had been dating for just over a month. She was kind. I enjoyed her gentle company. We were not exclusive, but at the same time, it wasn’t like a huge single’s scene, so… But it was good. We had spent a whole Sunday together, getting lost in window shopping in Flint and getting tangled up in my bed that left both of us satisfied.

That Monday morning, I felt like my lungs were punctured when I brought Mandy coffee for our morning catch up. She brushed it off when I asked if something was wrong. She blamed it on catching some bug and being sick the day before. But I knew. I could feel it in the darkest parts of me that she was deeply hurt. Her eyes were void of light and it felt like I was being flayed when I could not bring her back with a smile.

I decided that she needed time. She would come around eventually. I continued bringing coffee and conversation. I would stop in before the end of her day with some excuse to see her. I tried to be patient, but after a week, I could bear it no more. Sunday morning, I appeared on her doorstep, a daisy in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. I made her pancakes while she sat watching me, her flower between us. I found a Van Morrison LP to put on and we ate together, with me doing most of the talking. She looked exhausted and there was nothing I could do. It was like she was refusing to come out of her shell.

“Mandy,” I started as I was cleaning up the dishes. “I don’t know what is going on. I just know that this is not being sick. This is not working a lot of hours, either.”

I watched as she crumpled against herself. Her skin was so gray and small. The first tear edged through her lashes unchecked. The second tear was wiped as she tried to turn away. I moved around the table, kneeling down in front of her, my hands on hers trying to get her to look at me.

“You’re scaring me,” I whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Amanda. I can’t stand to see this pain in you. Please. Please. Just trust me.”

The sob that ripped through her was harder to hold than anything. It was the same sound that had emptied from me with the loss of my son. I knew that kind of pain too well. I eased her to the floor with me so I could hold onto her. I still did not know the root of her pain, but at least she was sharing it with me. Her fingers dug into my t-shirt as I wrapped myself around her like armor.

The first of her words were whispered, embarrassed. She told me about the phone call. She told me about the woman saying there was a baby. She faltered across the word as her face broke and I pressed her against me once more as she hissed into a torrent of anger that threatened to incinerate us both. She launched to her feet, her hands balled into fists.

“How the fuck can he do this?” she shouted, her anger flushed across her face. “After what he did to me, he does this?”

She rambled as I gained my feet. Amanda’s fury was unleashed but my brain had latched onto one thing - what had done to her? Was it physical? Was it mental? Had he harmed her beyond whatever else was going on? My selfishness stepped in with the idea that things were not going well. And if things were not going well, perhaps… Goddamn. I'm such a bastard.

Just as soon as her storm started, she stopped. It was like all the fight that I had once loved - all her strength and fortitude - was gone. Evaporated.

“Fuck. I did this to me,” she whispered, melting into the couch. “I did this. I made these choices. I was so tired working at Franklin. I wanted to be here. I wanted Sparrow. I just wanted to be fucking home. I wanted him to be here with me. I wanted him to love it here like I do but he doesn’t. He never has. But I thought if I made this home, he would follow.”

I watched as her body thinned before me. This wasn’t Amanda Fischer. This wasn’t the same woman that was so sure of herself; the woman that could conquer whatever she set her mind to. She babbled on about how she should’ve listened to her husband. She was the reason for this failing. She was the reason why he would be gone for weeks. She was the reason she was so… lonely.

The word hung between us. Something broke inside of me, be it my heart or my spirit, maybe both as she covered her face and cried. Gently, I slid my fingers across her arms and around her back and when I felt her lean into me, held tight. Before I knew it, I had tears of my own. I wiped at mine before I looked into her face to wipe at her.

“Truth is he didn’t want my babies,” she whispered. “He destroyed my chance so he could have babies with someone else.”

My jaw slackened in shock. The gurgle that escaped on my breath matched the devastation that rose off her skin. I cupped her beautiful face and kissed at her hairline before pulling her in to cry with her. I’m sure there were choice words falling from my mouth that were doing nothing for her. I still did not fully understand what he had done to her, but I’m sure it was because of his selfish wishes and not hers. The pain was so raw as she shivered in her sobbing. Her fingers dug into the thick flannel I wore.

It was a sudden realization that struck me as her words finally pieced together enough of the puzzle that she had once again been thrust into a moment where her love betrayed her. Truth danced across my tongue and in my breath, but it was not the time. Instead I sucked in my thoughts and held her close until the tears no longer fell and her breathing was slow.

“You must be exhausted,” I whispered, combing through her hair with my fingers. “How about you lay down and I’ll finish up the kitchen.”

Her chin dropped as her eyes welled with tears once more. “Will you stay with me, Jake? Please?”

Her tiny voice struck me. I couldn’t say no. She pulled me to the bed and let her robe fall against her back to reveal that old concert tee that she was wearing when she stormed in about the band practice. I kicked out of my boots and slid out of my flannel to just be in my own tee and jeans. I watched as she lay down and waited for me to pull her into my side. I was instantly wrapped in the smell of her and it sent me back to when I was 20 and so so in love.

“What did he do to keep you from having babies?” I asked as I settled in and had my eyes planted on the ceiling.

“Had to have my appendix taken out. He told the doctor to tie my tubes while he was in there,” she answered.

“Can’t that be reversed?” I asked, hiding the anger that flared across my chest.

“Normally, but there’s not enough of my tubes left to undo the damage,” she whispered, her words catching in her throat.

I cursed as her pain leaked through my skin and into my bloodstream. “And now…”

“I’ve not confronted him yet,” she said. “He calls every night and I don’t answer. The messages on the machine are awful. He just screams at me and I… I’m sure he’s with her at this point.”

I was shaking my head. Amanda did not deserve this. Not again.

“Jake, what did I do? I’ve tried so hard to be a good wife,” she hiccuped. “Was I wrong to want to do this for us?”

“No. Not wrong. You are doing amazing things with Sparrow,” I said, meaning every word. I had known that Roger negatively criticized her work every chance he got. It was not uncommon that her support came from sources far away from her husband. It was not enough though. That singular compliment.

I started to list everything that I loved about her store from the displays to the little hand painted sparrows that she had done in her own hand across the ceiling, to the coffee bar that she would have for book clubs, not to mention the book clubs themselves, the way she interacted with her customers, new and old, the way she treated the staff like family, the way she would ensure any young visitor walked around with a lollipop or treat despite it being about books.

“I love hearing your laugh through my wall when Mrs. Warner brings up the naughty bits of romance novels,” I whispered into her hair. “And then she thinks it's okay to get even more graphic because of it. It’s hilarious.”

Her fingers wrapped and threaded through mine. Her skin was starting to feel warm once more. I felt a ghost of a smile against the exposed skin of my throat.

“She really is a dirty old lady, isn’t she?” Mandy whispered, stifling a laugh.

“But in the best way,” I countered with a nod. “I think we could all learn something from Mrs. Warner.”

It broke loose from her chest first, flowed up her throat and erupted through her teeth, striking my ear with the truest laugh that I had heard from her since… then. She rose up to look down at me. Mandy’s cheeks were rosy and streaked with tears. The green of her eyes were pools of murky liquid. And she was beautiful. Stunningly so beautiful that my heart froze at the sight of her so close to me once more. I could see all of her - the hurt, the sorrow, the guilt, the brokenness, the… I pressed my lips together as it punched me in the gut. The loneliness was etched across her being like graffiti, painfully dripping from its jagged edges.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jake,” she whispered, her body threatening to slink back into her shell.

“Can’t help it.”

I brought my hand up, pressing the flesh of her cheek with the pads of my fingers. A soft cry escaped me as she leaned forward, her mouth so damn close to my own. It was like a beacon calling me to my home and I followed it. The blinding joy that exuded from the grace of her lips mixed with the crushing wrongness of it all. This woman was hurting. Why the hell would I be kissing her… But she returned my sentiment. She brought in my lip between hers before pushing her tongue into my mouth with the greatest of care. I moaned at the sensation that I had thought of for a decade - craved for a whole goddamn decade. The heat between us flared up as I pulled her closer. The pad of my thumb brushed across the ridge of her cheekbone and I discovered she was crying once more. But so was I. I couldn’t help it. It was like my very soul was screaming for every bit of her as it had been for years. It was parched. Devoid of her touch for so long that it could only weep in its greediness.

Mandy slid her leg across mine and I sat us up. I devoured her kiss like I was starving. The soft whine that she emitted egged me on as her hands tore at the hem of my shirt. I let her lift it. I let her tug it over my head and watched as her eyes drifted down across my skin. I wondered how she saw me. Was I that different from when I was 20? I know I had broadened out, filled out in places. So had she. But she had done it so beautifully and I couldn’t wait to see and love each of her curves.

To breathe her skin in was both healing and shattering. To press my mouth to that tender spot beneath her ear and draw forth the softest of sighs nearly broke me. I had dreamed of her nightly. I had the ghost of her touch haunt my flesh when any other woman graced my body. It was always her. It would always be her. I would see her shimmer across my mind as I peaked. I would feel her deep within every damn time. My emotions ripped and clawed and chewed their way through me. My moral compass shattered as I looked into those eyes. I so wanted to see nothing but love. And it was so very wrong. It was wrong to love on her. And I did not fucking care.

She removed her nightshirt and we softly pressed together. The fullness of her breasts flooded me with want. The heat of her body made my thoughts of her slosh around and shimmy in a way that made it all okay. We needed this. It was easy to convince myself of that thought. We needed this desperately.

Amanda pressed her palms to my face, tugging me closer into a heated kiss that blew my reservations away like the tumbling of autumn leaves. My hands slid down that delicious curve of her side to her hips to her thigh and I realized I felt fed. I was being fed until I would be a complete glutton on her flesh. I pushed us forward so that she landed on her back. I would feast upon her until neither of us could move. She dragged her nails across my scalp as I tasted my way down to the plane of her stomach. My teeth sank into the delicacy of her thigh. And then I was home. No one was like her. I felt a frenzy begging to be released as I loved on her until she cried out in complete ecstasy. I was harder than I had been in years. My body was begging for release as I crawled up across her body like a predator. Our mouths crashed together in naked want until finally, I slid into her.

I cannot explain the sensation that enraptured me. The tears that I felt overwhelmed me dripped down my nose to blend with hers. She pulled me down flush against her and we both gasped as all of our bodies kissed the other. We tumbled and rolled and pressed against and danced together and… and…

I watched as she slept. My fingers could not stop dancing across her flesh, memorizing every turn, bump, twist and rimple of her. In the stillness, I came to the realization that the love that I had had for Mandy was eternal. It had evolved over time, sure. But it blazed through my spirit. I was stronger with her. I wanted to be better for her. Just like always. Every step I ever wanted to take as an adult, I wanted to take with her. I had been stunted for years. I felt something that I had not felt and had not realized that when I was with her, I was whole.

Amanda POV

I knew Jake was aware of something not being right. He seemed to pick up on my shift within half of a half of a second when he walked in on Monday morning. I struggled as he tried to pry it out of me, but I didn’t know how to voice the situation to myself, let alone to anyone else. That night, I had left the phone on the answering machine. Roger called four times before midnight. By the third message he was screaming into the phone that I had no right to shut him out and I was just being a bitch about it. Tuesday, he called the shop. Robin answered and called me over with a wave of her hand. When she said it was my husband, I hung up the phone. The whole time, I kept eye contact with her and she only nodded in understanding. If there were any more calls from him, I was pleasantly unaware.

Wednesday night, there was a barrage of calls, all hang ups until about two in the morning where he left a weepy message of not understanding what he did wrong and I owed him an explanation. It was the call immediately after that I decided to pick up without a hello; without words of any kind.

“Oh thank god,” he gasped when he heard the call connect. “Mandy. Mandy, come on. Please, just talk to me.”

“I don’t think you deserve for me to talk to you right now,” I said quietly.

“Mandy, what the hell is going on? I’m in fucking St. John’s right now and cannot-”

I wiped at my tired face. Of course he would make it sound like he was out of the damn country to cover his tracks. “I hope you hug that baby real close, Roger.”

He made a series of babbling sounds that bit and chewed at my strength. “Baby? What fucking baby, Amanda?”

“Must be nice to have a child,” I whispered. “You’re such a fucker for taking that away.”

“Amanda! I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking -”

“You see, Roger. I don’t really believe that. Lydia certainly doesn’t believe you don’t know what the hell is going on.” I sucked in a breath after saying her name out loud, like it was poisoned.

“Who the hell is Lydia?”

“Oh you know - Lydia. The woman you’ve been sticking your dick in to and knocked up? Yeah. Her.”

“Well, if you weren’t in that shithole town-” The words were mumbled quietly, harsh and grating, but I heard them. It was evidence enough.

“I’m done.”

I hung up. My hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t hold onto anything. My heart felt like it had been wrenched open and flayed apart before me. I somehow rested for a few hours before I put myself back together enough for the day at hand. Jake had stopped in four times that day, his eyes full of worry. Somehow I made it all the way to the end of day Saturday. Roger did not call again. For that I was thankful.

When Jake landed at my doorstep on Sunday morning, I knew he could see I was bleeding out. I knew I could not deny him any longer. The moment he asked for me to trust him, I handed myself over so damn fast. It scared me at the speed that I was willing to just give him my wounded heart to hold and care for. The moment I kissed him was like a tearing of myself in two to shed all the hurt, all the grizzled pain and scar tissue that had been shoved into my skin over the course of years. It was a return to a time of innocence that I had longed for with every ounce that made up me.

It was in the dark morning hours Monday when I stirred to find him tracing circles against my hip, watching over me like a stalwart guardian. This man. This man was Jacob Kiszka and I felt so terribly cherished as he leaned in to kiss my forehead, followed by my cheeks and just beneath my ear. I had imagined what sex would be like now that he was a man and if I’d be goddamn it was better than anything I could ever imagine. My whole body ached with need and want and desire and he tended to each and every silent demand as if he just knew where to touch, where to kiss, where to taste. Those dark assed eyes just engulfed me in flame as he studied me and my body.

I watched as he nudged and guided me to be over him, lowering myself upon him so that he nestled deep within me with a reverent breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, tracing his fingers up and down my thighs as I leaned backwards and rolled my hips against him. “I cannot tell you how I’ve dreamed… fuck… I’ve wanted this… Amanda.”

I spread both my hands across the sturdiness of his chest so as to balance myself better. I’d be a damn liar if I said he hadn’t changed. He was soft in all the right places, but the strength of his body knocked me for a loop as I let my hands skate across the miles of Jake that was laid out before me. He lifted my hips to force me to fall forward, nearly knocking my chin into his face. I let out a soft laugh as he caught my lips with his own.

I felt as if all the scaring, all the loneliness, all the heat of my anger was being swept up and incinerated to form a new armor that I would need to survive whatever was to come next. He was kissing me so deeply that I fought for air until finally I brought myself up just high enough to look at him - really look at him. The fine crinkles that kissed at the edges of his eyes, the way his mouth searched for mine. The way his hands gripped at my hips to hold me steady as he slid so slowly, so deeply into me as to hit every ripple within and stir a pleasure that I had not felt in a long, long time. He wrapped his arms across my shoulders and was quick to roll us so that he was on top. His hair fell in a curtain around me, tickling my nose and my cheek. He heaved himself up, tossing his head back to expose the expanse of his neck. I thrust forward, unable to keep my mouth from the delicate heat of his skin. I loved this form - this body that held me so tightly, that blended us together until I did not quite understand where I stopped and he started.

I loved this man.

I loved this man… still.

I felt the sob bubble up from my chest as the realization struck me. He touched me, held me, moved with me as if he loved me as well. I reached up, landing my hand against his face to recapture his attention. Those eyes turned to me and I could see so clearly all the love that I had longed for was still there - shining like treasure.

“Jake…”

His name fell from my mouth like a prayer. His eyes closed for a long time, so long that I wasn’t sure if he would look at me again.

“I know,” he whispered, finally opening his eyes once more before he leaned in to kiss my mouth again. “I know.”

He made love to me. He treated me like all of the distance that had been present for so very long, never existed. He brought me to an edge where I thought all thought, all of my human was seeping into the bed beneath me. I didn’t think I could get any higher, and then he pushed me along, pressing out bodies so tenderly, so exquisitely that my orgasm would rupture only to rebuild in moments. He fed on my breasts while I nearly lost myself in the euphoria that he offered. When he came, he latched his eyes onto mine as if watching me unravel with him was the dearest gift I could ever give to him. Or perhaps, it was a way to memorize the moment, since we both were unaware how long we could hold onto this affair.

I had seven days. I had seven days where I felt like Jake rebuilt me through warmth, touch, love and togetherness. I was able to pretend that I was his girl, and he was my Jake. I couldn’t shout it from the rooftops, or broadcast it at all in public, but it was what it needed to be. He could come to me at night, or I would walk the few blocks to his house after work. It was the freest that I had felt in a decade, but also the most hidden, the most chained.

It was the Sunday before Memorial Day weekend that Jake had to make an appearance at his family supper table. I knew I should not have answered the call. Perhaps it was my spirit trying to be done with the pain of what was and move to what was next. But, I picked up the call from Roger. I talked very little. He tried to explain. He tried to lie.

“I will be there on Thursday,” he had said, his tone pleading.

“I don’t want you here,” I whispered.

“You can’t tell me no, Amanda. I’m your husband.”

“You gave up that right when you thought you could have a family with another woman.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Bull shit.”

“You already fucking that guy, aren’t you?”

I did not grace that question with an answer but it struck me hard. I told him that I did not want to see him before I hung up but I knew – I knew deep down that he was going to come to town expecting me to eat up his lies and forgive his trespasses. He would tell me that I was the one he married. I never thought that I would feel so ultimately strong because of the love that Jake had placed within my spirit, and so utterly defenseless because of Roger’s selfishness and total disregard for me as a whole. A hard conclusion struck me upside the head and knocked every bit of stuffing out of my body. Roger was coming to find proof of my infidelity. He was coming to find fault with me that he could hold up to deflect from his own sins.

I went to Jake that night, wrapped in so much pain that I swear I was going to expire on his doorstep. He tugged me in, but I would not allow him to kiss my lips. I would not allow him to touch my skin. I nearly shattered as I watched him catch on to what was happening. It was like watching a candle being slowly snuffed out, the immediate will to survive dancing and engulfing the wick for air to consume, and the panic when there was no oxygen to be had. The air between us was so very different from what it had been that morning - full of golden elixir and palpable love with intentional touches that whispered and cooed.

“No,” he whispered as I wrapped my arms around myself. “Please, no.”

“He’s coming and I can’t stop him, Jake,” I said, my voice fragmented into chips of tones that sounded nothing like me.

Jake’s expression was crushed, eyes pleading with me. “Amanda. Leave him.”

My stomach churned with his words and the bitterness that was to come. A toxic soup of confusion and desire poisoned my brain. The sudden fury that landed in Jake’s eyes pushed me to a limit I had not been aware of. His body went rigid as he covered his face. As he moved from me, I felt his hard pull of gravity threatening to force me to drag me along with the weight of his own emotions.

“I am done grieving for what could have been,” he raged, his voice choppy with rasp and tears. “I am ready to mourn whatever the fuck has been between us for all these years. I am ready for what should be, Amanda. I’m ready for us to be here, now, together.”

“I can’t do it,” I whispered, my mouth quivered around the words as bile tickled my throat. “I can’t leave him because of this. I can’t leave him because of us.”

“Why? The prick has gone out of his way to break every vow he ever made to you. He’s hurtful to you. He has… fuck!” he shouted as I flinched out a sob. He softened, blowing out a strangled breath. “You don’t understand - I see what he has done to you. He’s left his marks on you. He’s left scars.”

Jake’s face contorted with all that he felt that had long stayed dormant. I watched as he quietly cried through all of his anger and all of his grief. I had to fight myself from reaching out to provide comfort. My spirit quaked against me, splintering and twisted until I was trembling with pain. What he was asking was wrong. I couldn’t leave Roger to be with Jake. What we had done was wrong - shattering our restraint and loving each other - that was what was wrong. Consequences for women who committed infidelity were harsher. Did he not understand that?

“Get the fuck out of your head,” he seethed as he inched back around, closing the space between us. “Mandy - please.”

“There is no ‘please’, Jake. There is no…” I began to shake as my emotions choked and stabbed their vicious venom within me. “I can’t keep on like this. It’s not just his marks on me, but yours. Ours.”

The fragile breath that escaped me crashed against him like the wake of an ocean liner. His body seemed to fold against him over the realization. The hurt etched upon his eyes scorched my gut. He fell back a few steps as realization of what was happening curtained over him.

“I can’t,” I continued through hiccups of cries. “I’m a married woman. I’m just as bad as he is by sleeping with you, Jake. I’m just as much an adulterer as he is. I’ve broken every vow - same as him. I am not a good person. Not any more. I’m sure as shit not the girl who I was when you first loved me. I’ll never be her. Not ever.”

My very being splintered and my heart shattered as he fell to sitting onto the couch. The defeat that rode out on his groan bit into my thoughts, threatening to become my waking nightmare. I loathed every inch of myself as I shook my head and found a footing that carried me further away.

“Please don’t,” he gasped, his body an ugly, cloying weight around him. “I can’t go back to how it was before. I can’t watch you-”

“I can’t be yours, Jake,” I said as my throat constricted against me, the words were raspy and crushed as they escaped. Every ounce of my flesh fought against me. “I can’t be yours. It’s not right.”

I startled as he launched his frame from the couch at me, wrapping himself around my body, his mouth against mine. We fell apart in each other's arms. We shook and cried and kissed and shared breath as the moment drew to a point of no return.

“Why can’t I ever be enough?” he whispered as we stilled in each other’s embrace. “Why can’t I ever just love you?”

I absorbed every scrap of heat I could as he held firm. I breathed in his skin, memorized the contours that made him my Jake. I made myself look into the mirrored pain that I was sure was plain on my own features and committed each line, each jagged gasp to memory. This was my Jacob. My man. I had broken him as he had broken me. I had clawed out the time that allowed us to soar over days and weeks in a love that was cursed and was never meant to be. I would have his memory to shield me from when my husband would return. I would conjure the lust and the longing and the joy and the delicate bits of forbidden touches and pretend that I was present in the world around me. I despised that I blamed him for the failing of our youth, but I loathed myself more for the destruction that we equally brought to our verboten bed.

“I love you,” I said through her tears. “It’s always been you.”

I pressed my lips to his once more. Every nerve in my body vibrated like a hard strummed chord. His fingers dug into me as he tried to hold me close. I was the first to let go, and though his expression conveyed that he wanted to fight, he let me go. Without a shred of reluctance, I turned and walked out his front door into the void of the night.

Breathe. I’ll see you next Wednesday. 💚

I have a tag list if you would like to join, or you can just reply to this or message me.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @loveisonaroll @starcatcherc @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows @livkiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gracev0609 @gretavangroupie @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @joniizzle-blog

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fan fic #greta van fleet au #gvf au #greta van fleet fan fic #jake kiszka au #best laid plans

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storm-angel989 · 2 months

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🎀IM SORRY FOR BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX! But Val/Vox(idrc which one) x Anorexic Daughter Reader?🎀

PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND

Hi Friend,

You’re not blowing up my inbox- I keep every request in a google doc and when inspo hits I work on it! If I ever decide I won’t do a request I won’t just delete it- I’ll post and say it directly <3

Preface for this work:

I’m considered a plus sized equestrian/plus sized human. Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes and issues. I believe it’s Blythe Barid who said “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.”

Stories like these are based on my own experiences and issues- and on this topic, I’ve had quite a few. Please remember that all bodies are worthy of love and respect, care and concern. It's a tough concept to wrap our heads around, and admittedly I still struggle with it.

A little background info:

ED’s are a huge part of my writing that I haven’t published. Ana and Mia are characters I have created (or maybe my own food issues created them). Either way, they’re separate entities for separate stories- demons that I imagine have their own place in hell as well as in my writings (all of which have been in existence far longer than Hazbin). That being said, naming your ED is something I did and I have done. Even for the purpose of writing this story, the entire thing felt wrong without Ana running the behind the scenes.

With this one I tried to pain the pain, the anger and frustration behind that never feeling good enough feeling. I would be open to doing part two if folks would be interested. Please also know I’ve written on this topic in several other forms if you explore my masterlist (or I can directly send you the links if you PM me).

<3 Mandy

I stepped on the bathroom scale and looked at the number that flashed below. The words of my coach echoed in my mind- I needed to lose the summer weight, or else I would be benched for the rest of the season. She had helpfully provided me with a journal to keep track of my weight, what I ate in a day, activities I did and how many calories I burned in accordance with my VoxTech watch.

A month ago, I had met her goal, thus ending the weekly weigh-ins. According to her, I had lost enough weight to maintain my place on the team. It was on me now to make sure that I maintained that weight, or lost more. In her exact words, you could never be too skinny.

“Bebita? Breakfast,” my fathers voice called from the hallway. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

The number told me I hadn’t gained weight, but I hadn’t lost weight either. I picked my backpack up and slung it over my shoulder.

“Sorry, Dad! I’m late! I’ll eat at school, I promise,” I answered back as I rushed out the door.

Surely skipping breakfast wouldn’t hurt.

Skipping breakfast turned into skipping lunch. Skipping lunch turned into avoiding dinner. Sugar free jello and skinny pop became my go to snacks as the numbers in my book slowly but surely began to get smaller. Somewhere, a little voice inside my head began to cheer my successes on the scale. Over time, I learned that she had a name.

Ana. My secret diet partner. My invisible cheerleader. The willpower I needed to keep going on the hardest days. And most importantly, someone who paid attention to me,

With each passing day, Ana grew louder. She encouraged me to keep my diet a secret from my family. After all, they wouldn’t understand. Pleasing her, it became almost like an addiction- a game I played with myself to see just how little I could become. Food became nothing more than numbers, an obsession that consumed every minute, every second of my thoughts and desires.

In my household, it wasn’t hard to keep it to myself. Hell, one could argue that I wasn’t technically even keeping it a secret. My father had a very important job, after all. And my Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox also wouldn’t have had the opportunity to make the connection. A quick, I ate earlier, sorry! And I got off scott free. Ana cheered with each no thank you I uttered. My head between my knees after practice had become a ritualistic practice. Waiting for the black spots to fade, taking deep breaths to try to regain the energy to stand up and walk out to the awaiting limo. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for me anyway.

On the daily, I kept a careful eye on my voxtech watch. The first time my blood sugar dropped, I got a call from Vox. Paniced waves rushed through me. A suggestion from Ana to bribe to a friendly tech demon. A brief trade later, I had constant vitals being sent from my watch, my real ones hidden behind a password. With this newfound freedom, outside of homework and practice, my time normally devoted to hobbies or hanging out with friends became time to sleep. After all, I was working on the perfect body. I needed my rest.

For almost six months, Ana and I were best friends.

Saturday morning. Game day. One of the busiest days for my father. After all, lust and depravity raked through the weekends like wildfire. Or at least, that was what he claimed. I stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to tighten the drawstring

“Hey bebita?” I heard my fathers voice call from the hallway. “Baby, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad. I have a game today,” I snapped as I tied another knot in the string.

Why the fuck wouldn’t these stupid shorts stay up? I fumed to myself. Every part of my body ached, and even yanking on my shorts sent black spots and exhaustion rushing through my body. I leaned my head against the mirror and tried to take a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.

The next thing I heard was my fathers voice, felt his hand shaking my shoulder. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes.

“Bebita? Reader, can you hear me?” Valentino asked frantically. “Princessa, wake up, now!”

“I’m fine,” I muttered as loudly as I could. Somehow, I managed to push myself upright.

“You most certainly are not fine,” he replied sharply. “I’m taking you downstairs to the doctor, right now.”

Doctor. That meant I would miss the game. No, I had an obligation to my teammates. Somewhere in my head, Ana screamed.

Get up, fatass!

You really want to fuck this up for everyone?

You better not let him take you to the doctor, you do that and you’ll never find perfection.

“I’m fine,” I growled, louder this time. I pulled myself to my feet and black spots dotted my vision. I felt my fathers arms around me and in seconds, I was off the floor and in his arms.

“Put me down, I can walk,” I tried to yell. Inside my head, Ana screamed louder, demands and insults about my current predicament. I pressed my hands to my head and curled my fingers in my hair, “Dad let me down NOW!”

He ignored me as he carried me down the hallway.

“Vox? Velvette? Both of you, with me. Now. We have a problem.” He said loudly.

“Woah, what’s going….” Vox’s voice began.

I shoved my hand against my father as he walked through the living room. To my relief, he set me down on the couch.

“What?” I snarled as three sets of eyes stared at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Vox checked his phone and then walked over to me. With one finger, he lifted off my Voxtech watch.

“Hey! Give that back!” I demanded. “I’m going to be late to my game!”

All three of them ignored me. Wordlessly, Velvette walked away and returned moments later, bathroom scale in hand. She set it infront of the couch and gave me a hard look.

“Step on.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped as I stood up. I tried to ignore the black spots that danced just out of sight. “My weight is none of your fucking business.”

“Reader!” Valentino said in dismay. “That’s no way to talk to your Aunt.”

“I’m leaving, I’m already late. Thanks, Dad,” I continued sarcastically as I kicked the scale aside.

Inside, Ana cheered. I bent down to pick up my backpack and the world around me spun. Three steps, and Vox’s hand gripped my upper arm. The last thing I heard was Ana’s voice screaming indistinguishable words.

When I came to again, I found myself in a room of gray and blue. Wires stuck out from my chest, and I tried to cough and spit the feeling of something painful in the back of my throat. I tried to reach up, to shove my fingers down my throat, and my skin met padded white cuffs.

What the fuck?

You’re going to have to work hard to get yourself out of this one, Ana taunted. Great job getting caught, fatass.

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, Papi is here,” I heard my father’s voice say somewhere far away.

“Mr. Valentino, I promise we’ll be in touch when she’s more stable,” a new voice said. “For now, it might be best to give her some space to…”

Indistinguishable arguments. My fathers refusal and reminder of who exactly was in charge here. My Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette chiming in, a mix of talking him down and agreement.

Panic shot through me as the haze slowly began to wear away. Realization. Through the fog, only one word came to mind.

Fuck.

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0perfectimperfections0 · 26 days

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Which uglydolls characters do you think these songs describe:

-Love Like You (feat. Rebecca Sugar)

-Saint bernard (panicking at the wrong disco lincoln)

-little girls (Cameron diaz)

-Brutal (Oliva Rodrigo)

-jealousy jealousy (Oliva Rodrigo)

-good 4 u (Oliva Rodrigo)

-Wrecking ball (Mother Mother)

-Cults (Guided Lily)

Two birds (Regina Spektor)

-Are You Satisfied? (MARINA)

-Notion (The Rare Occasions)

-Alien Blues (Vandabar)

-Oh No! (MARINA)

-I Deserve to Bleed (Sushi Soucy)

-dumb dumb (mazie)

-digital silence (Peter mcpoland)

-everybody likes you (lemon demon)

-Romantic Homicide (d4vd)

-I love you so (the Walters)

-Step on me (the Cardigans)

-YKWIM (Yot club)

Finally getting to this post even though it's been months since I started working on it. I got halfway through these songs before life slapped me in the face, so let's finish it up!

Lord help me, there's someone playing the piano in the Solarium here at college, so there's two polar tunes going through my ears XD

<><><>

Love Like You: Nolan - Ha! You thought I was gonna say Lou, right? Well, I thought about it, but the line "And I'm nothing like you, look at you go, I just adore you..." and so on makes me think of Nolan when he was obviously trying his best to get Lou's attention. He was focusing in the class and trying to keep up with the training, heck, he made it to the Gauntlet. Despite Lou calling him ugly, he still tries to make Lou proud of him or change his mind. "If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do anything."

Saint Bernard: Sorry, but this song was confusing, and I honestly was thrown off too much by the slightly off-key singing that...bleh, no sorry XD

Little Girls: Kitty - Here me out, it gives off more Kitty vibes. I debated it feeling more like for Lou, but it's giving me "Ugh, no, you imbecile" vibes. The way she sings as well is the way I imagine Kitty singing. She's also kinda stuck with Lydia and Tuesday despite acting like she's absolutely fed up with their two brain cells.

Brutal: Kitty - Way too insecure and earnestly faking being okay to be anyone else. Also, "only have two real friends:" Tuesday and Lydia?

Jealousy Jealousy: Mandy - I think one of the main reasons that she hangs out with the Spy Girls is because she wants to be just like them. I don't think they just spotted her one day. Kitty doesn't strike me as that type of person. I think Mandy earnestly sought them out and has been trying to prove that she's as good as them.

good 4 u: Lou - This definitely screams Lou and how he dealt with Ox after their friendship ended. It also didn't help that Ox was living up the dream in Uglyville despite his nature, whilst Lou was still stuck in a perpetual nightmare.

Wrecking Ball: Wage - I feel like this is definitely Wage. She can be a little fireball (and she is during most of the movie). And most of her decisions are impulses of her anger or other unruly emotions. I feel like she just embraces her unvisceral emotions.

Cults: Lou - The middle verses kind of throw me off, but the main chorus of "Haven't I given enough?" is definitely Lou-coded for self-explanatory reasons.

Alien Blues: I've heard this song before and absolutely can't stand it for the same reasons as "Saint Bernard", sorry XD, but I don't think I can listen to it purposefully.

Oh no!: Moxy - Despite the whole "friends are great" outlook Moxy seems to have during the movie, she's very self-centered. She was fully prepared to go through the Gauntlet and portal without telling any of the other Uglies back in Uglyville. If it hadn't been for Lou's interference, the other Uglies would still be stuck. Moxy definitely has her own future set in stone.

dumb dumb: Wage - She definitely gives off the "I'm surrounded by idiots" energy. I know, you probably expected me to say Lou, but I honestly think that Wage would be the one to secretly believe everyone is on a lower IQ level than her. She did constantly try to tell Moxy that her plan was outrageous. She also gives UglyDog a hard time.

Everybody Likes You: I couldn't find this song

Step on Me: Nolan - I honestly think that Nolan wholly accepts (tolerates) any treatment from other dolls. He'll withstand the insults and bombastic side eyes if it means playing peacekeeper.

YKWIM: Ox - I feel like closer toward the end of his friendship with Lou, he felt as if he was getting in the way of Lou being a functional leader in the Institute.

<><><><>

Yeah, I admitted some because it's been months since this ask came in and a little bit shorter since I had first worked through the songs. The few songs I deleted from my analysis is because I just didn't have the attention span to listen to them or they really confused me because of the lyrics.

But yeah!

#uglydolls #lou #ask #answer #random #ox #moxy #nolan

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mickittotheman · 5 months

Note

49 …out of necessity for the prompt game if you are so inspired?! ❤️😍

I did one for this prompt here, but I was indeed feeling inspired so here's another!

49. ...out of necessity

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey drops the bowl in his hands to the table with a clatter. Clears the distance between the kitchen and his room in quick strides. “What? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

His gaze flits to Ian first. Still in the same position. Still curled up on his side, facing the wall, the sheets tugged up over his head. Mickey breaths out a long breath, not sure whether the feeling flooding him is relief or disappointment or both.

Carl blinks at him, wide eyed. “Nothing. Jeez. Just wanted to ask you something.”

Mickey sighs again. He snatches his brass knuckles out of Carl’s hand and shoves it back into the top drawer of his dresser. All his other weapons have been cleared out into a couple of cardboard boxes shoved deep inside the depths of Mandy’s closet. He’s not taking any chances. “Stop messing with my shit. You couldn't have fucking walked out there to ask me the question?”

Carl shrugs. “You said not to leave him alone.”

Right.

Mickey twists his lips. Looks at Ian again. Looks away.

“Fuck did you wanna ask me?”

Carl goes all shifty. Starts fiddling with the sheets. Looks, for a moment, like the little kid he is, not the wannabe tough guy he’s pretending to be. “Um. I know it's kinda stupid, but… Debbie used to watch those stupid fairytale movies, you know? The girly ones, with the princesses and castles and shit?”

“Okay,” Mickey drawls, eyebrows steadily creeping higher. He waves his hands around when Carl doesn’t continue. “You called me in here just to tell me that?”

“No– I,” Carl frowns. Shrinks in on himself. Looks impossibly younger. “It’s just. You said you’d be willing to try anything, right? To make him better?”

Mickey makes his best ‘duh’ expression.

“Well um. One time when we were little. And Monica was around. And she was like this. Debbie had this idea, that maybe Frank should try kissing her, because in her stupid movies they would always cure everything with true love's kiss or whatever. It didn’t work, but we thought maybe it’s just because the way Monica and Frank love each other is kinda fucked up, and maybe…”

Carl trails off, blushing furiously. He shoves himself to his feet before Mickey can even begin to wrap his mind around what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Nevermind. This is stupid. I’ve gotta go. Gotta meet someone in twenty.”

He brushes past Mickey on the way out of the room. Mickey stares after him, mouth open, brows furrowed incredulously. The front door slams shut.

What the fuck.

Mickey sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking Gallaghers, man,” he mutters.

On the bed, Ian doesn’t so much as twitch.

Mickey circles over to his side. Grabs the plate of toast off the nightstand– half eaten, better than yesterday– and brings it out into the kitchen. Eats the slightly stale toast. Finishes his bowl of cereal. Leaves the dishes there for someone else to deal with.

He grabs a gatorade from the fridge, grabs an extra quilt from the couch, brings them back with him into his dark, stuffy room. He pulls the curtains open. Cracks the window just a bit. It’s cold as fuck outside, but he’s been looking into shit, and fresh air is supposed to help. He circles back to Ian’s side again, sets the gatorade in reach, seal already twisted off to make it easier for Ian if he decides to drink some. He drapes the quilt over him, tucks the edges in tight, smooths a hand over the sheet covering Ian’s hair.

Mandy used to like fairytales, too. Mickey stole a copy of Sleeping Beauty from this girl in his class back in primary school. He read that fucking thing to her so many times he could practically recite it from memory alone.

Carl was right. This is fucking stupid.

But he was also right about Mickey being desperate enough to try anything.

He scowls. Rolls his eyes. Crouches down beside the bed. Leans in. Squeezes his eyes shut.

His breath hitches when their lips touch. Fuck, but he’s missed kissing Ian.

He misses being kissed by Ian even more.

He pulls back. Digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck.

When he lowers his hands, Ian is awake, staring back at him.

“Holy shit. Ian.”

Ian doesn’t respond with anything other than a slow blink, but he hasn’t talked in days now, and his eyes look clearer than they have since this whole fucking mess first started.

Mickey grips hard at Ian’s arm. Ian doesn't shove him away this time. Just blinks again.

Mickey takes in a shuddering breath. Pastes on a strained smile. “Hey there, sleeping beauty. You feeling any better?”

Ian moves his shoulder, just a tiny little twitch of a shrug. His gaze darts down to Mickey’s lips, then back up to his eyes, then down again. Mickey can see his jaw flexing, his throat working, his mouth twitching like he’s struggling to say something.

“What is it? You need something?”

A short, sharp, jerky nod.

“You want your gatorade? More food? Another blanket–?”

Ian shakes his head. His brows twist in frustration. He looks at Mickey’s lips again.

Oh.

Mickey’s breath whooshes, like he’s been kicked in the sternum. He kinda fucking feels like he has been.

He darts forwards again. Brushes his lips against Ian’s, chaste. Pulls back to look at him before doing it again, and again, and again.

Fairytales are bullshit. But maybe there’s some things they got right.

send me a number~

#prompt games #gallavich #my scribblings #if this hurts to read. just know it hurt infinitely more to write.#jk this was fun (said with tears and blood on my face)

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kayyybenson · 1 year

Text

Fake it (Pt 2 to Sick) - Nick Amaro

I roamed into the living room, carrying a mud-covered Frannie. Amanda looked up from her phone and started uncontrollably laughing. "This isn't funny," I glared.

"What happened? Ya'll look like you went on a dirt slip and slide."

"We did. It started raining and she ran down a dirt path. I followed her and tripped." She laughed harder and took a picture.

"I'm sending this to Nick." I huffed, letting Frannie run all over the room. "Hey!"

"Whoops." My phone rang and I looked at it, "Rollins." I answered.

"Hey, N/N. I wanted to check in with you and Amanda, I have my own personal cell here-" I hung up the phone before she could finish.

"What's wrong?"

"I-uh-nothing! I'm going to shower, there's a rock in my shoe." I quickly ran to the bathroom and locked the door. After what Kim had done to me and Amanda I was pissed, we were sent to jail, tried for murder, and our shields and guns were confiscated. I wasn't ready to forgive her, I turned the shower off, got dressed, and exited the bathroom.

"Y/N, Kim just called me. She called you too, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I'm not ready to forgive her Mandy."

"I know, but she's our little sister."

"Amanda, she lied to Lieutenant Tucker about us! She went to IAB and got us arrested!" There was a knock at the front door. "What!?" I yelled when I opened the door.

"I came to see how your day off is. I'm going to assume not so good." Nick snapped me out of my angry fit. "We need you, we got a homicide call."

"Okay, just let me change out of my sweats."

------ DUN DUN ------

"So, what were you two yelling about?" I raised my head from where I rested it on my hand and looked at him.

"Shouldn't you be focused on driving?" I retorted.

"I can multitask, I've only ever seen you that angry when you're dealing with a perp."

"Kim called us today, she said she wanted to check in on us, but I'm still mad at her."

"And you have every right to be,"

"Amanda wants to forgive her. She says that she's our little sister. I get family means everything but I'm pissed." The car came to a stop and we climbed out.

"Detective Amaro, this is my partner Detective Rollins. What do we have here?"

"16-year-old, at least 8 months pregnant, we found 28 stab wounds in her stomach and a gunshot to her head, there's no way to tell which one came first." I stared down at the young woman who lay on the ground, lifeless.

"That's not just a stab wound." I took a pair of gloved and put them on, gagging when I picked up an umbilical cord. "Whoever did this took the baby." The paramedics flipped her over, she had 'whore' carved into her back. "Oh, my god."

"I texted Liv, she's interviewing her classmates with Amanda."

"Okay, I think I need to step out." I took the gloves off, threw them away, and walked out the back sliding door, and Nick followed me out, closing the door behind us.

"Cariño, what's wrong?" I was leaning on the railing of the balcony, looking down at the cars below us.

"She was only 16, who was she involved with? And the mother said she was home, how do you not hear a gunshot or the screams of your daughter? Something just isn't sitting right with me about this."

"They did some snooping in the daughter's room, the baby daddy is a 'retired' pimp. After questioning the mother on it we learned she was selling her kids for money."

"Wait, kids?" I turned around to look at him. He nodded. "How old was the other?"

"I don't think you want to know." I covered my face with my hands and let out a long sigh. "Liv wants us back at the precinct. She said it's urgent." I started walking away but he grabbed my arm. "By the way, you looked adorable covered in mud with Frannie." I gave him a look and walked back to the car.

------ DUN DUN ------

"16-year-olds Martillia Costello and Maryam Costello were found dead in their apartment today at noon, their mother claims to have been in the apartment but says she didn't hear any struggling or any gunshots." Olivia filled us in on all the information we had.

"Which would be impossible unless she was deaf or was listening to some really loud music," I added on.

"Exactly, which is why we believe she was involved in the murder."

"We interviewed everyone who was close to her, she went to a group for teen pregnancies." Amanda read off her notes and taped a business card onto the whiteboard. "We called them and the ages ranged between, 16 to 19"I squinted at the card then looked back at the picture of the victim. "She's also not the first one in the group to suffer a terrible death."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"Nicole Freeman was another 16-year-old, stabbed and shot the same way, Umbilical cord tied around her neck, and her baby was gone."

"So this sicko waits until they're ready to pop and attacks, they take the baby and kill the mother," Fin stated.

"And neither of them knew who the baby's father was." I rapidly wrote on my notepad and jumped up. "Let me go undercover as a pregnant teen, I'll join the group, claim to be 8 months pregnant and say I don't know who the father is. That's the only way to infiltrate the group and find the killer."

"Hell will freeze over before I let you do that." Amanda looked at me like I was incapable of doing this.

"No, she's right, maybe that will work." Olivia looked at me, "Can you do it?"

"Tell me where to get a pregnancy belly and I'm in."

------ DUN DUN ------

"Are you sure about this?" Nick parked the car in front of the building. "You're shaking."

"I'm sure, this is going to save innocent lives."

"You're very brave. I love you, Mi Amor."

"I love you too." I kissed his cheek and waddled out of the car and into the building.

"Girls we have someone new with us today. Would you like to introduce yourself?" The group leader Rose spoke.

"My name is Katherine, I'm 7 months pregnant with a baby girl and I'm 16."

"Nice to meet you, Katherine." Everyone spoke in unison, making me uncomfortable. Both murders were on the same day the girls joined, so this shouldn't be so hard.

"How about we meet up in my office when we're done here, alright Katherine."

"Uh, yeah. Okay." I responded.

------

"So Katherine," She poured me a glass of water. "Where is the father of your baby?"

"Oh, he's in jail for rape."

"So the baby is going to grow up without a father?"

"No, I have a boyfriend, he's not the biological father, but he'll do." I drank the water. "Why is it spicy?"

"Tap water." I felt dizzy.

"No, no. Something is-" Black.

----

I opened my eyes and I was in my own living room, "What the hell?" We of course took no chances and rigged the place with cameras, I knew the safe word, I would be safe.

"You're not fit to be a mother." Rose sliced my shoulder making me scream out. "A 16-year-old 7 months pregnant, no father." She sliced in between each word, getting deeper as she went. "Now I'm going to do with you what I did to those other whores." She brought the knife toward my fake stomach and sliced it open.

"Please, I want to live" I threw out the safeword. In seconds everyone was in the room, guns drawn.

"Police! Put your hands up!" Rose turned to me and I smirked through the pain.

"Rose Arintine. You're under arrest for the murders of Martillia Costello, Maryam Costello, and Nicole Freeman,"

"You have no proof of that!"

"You just tried to kill me and take my baby. And we found the missing babies in your house." She was dragged away and Amanda and Nick untied me.

"You okay?" She asked. I nodded "Okay, I'm going home." I removed the fake belly and turned to Nick.

"I think you owe me something." He grabbed my waist.

"Yeah? And what is that?"

"I think you know." He leaned in and our lips connected, it was sweet but short.

#law and order svu #svu #amanda rollins #nick amaro #nick amaro imagine #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you

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reasonsmandy · 1 year

Text

I mean it darling

Karen Sirko x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — could you write something with karen sirko where reader is a groupie and they start dating secretly? idk just rockstar gf vibes. please 🫶🫶

✧.* summary — You guys had met between shows, and since then your connection has been absurd, a unique passion and love.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 4.4k

✧.* 🎹 — Karen's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — hey guys, how are y'all doing? I noticed a few days ago that I unintentionally removed the anonymous ask option, but I already adjusted it and everything is fine again. So if you want to ask anything, feel free

You don't remember when exactly you fell in love with rock, it was natural like the way you always liked to read something in the morning, like your body's muscle memory liking rock music and their bands was something implanted in you since you could remember. And you loved meeting new music stars, listening to different types of whatever band was coming up, it was impressive how easily you identified with each melody.

It didn't take long for you to get up the courage to go to all the shows of all the bands you knew and admired, at first the idea seemed crazy to people in your circle of friends, but you didn't care since nothing and no one gave you the feeling that music did. So it became easy to accept the life you led, it was something you loved, that brought you joy.

You still had in mind the first time you heard The Six live, it was sensational as well as the records passed, their energy was absurd, it was like feeling at the gates of heaven with every beat, note and chord. But that wasn't the only reason this day was so memorable, it was also the first time your eyes met hers.

You never intended to be interested or want something with someone in a band, but it was impossible not to think about how it would feel to have her around, she had an energy both onstage and off that it was impossible not to glaze over to her, the way she felt the music with her whole body made you want to understand more about her.

As the final notes of The Six's electrifying performance filled the air, you couldn't wait to get backstage and meet the band. With the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you navigated the maze-like corridors, hoping to find the way to the backstage area. However, in your excitement, you took a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar hallway.

Feeling a bit disoriented but not willing to give up, you continued walking, hoping to stumble upon the right path. The backstage crew members hurried past you, their eyes focused on their tasks, and the distant echoes of the crowd's cheers served as a reminder of the party you were missing out on.

As you wandered down one corridor after another, your initial enthusiasm began to wane, and a hint of frustration set in. You knew you had to be close; the faint echoes of laughter and music could be heard in the distance. But every door you tried seemed to lead to another dead end.

Just when you were starting to feel a little defeated, you turned a corner and nearly collided with someone—Karen. Her blonde, messy hair was slightly damp with sweat, and she looked as vibrant and charismatic as she did on stage. You felt your breath go away as she crossed her arms looking curious at you.

"Can I help you with something darling?" You never imagined that her voice would impact you this way, it was like you became vulnerable out of nowhere.

You try to compose yourself while controlling the nervousness inside you. "Yeah, I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. I was trying to find the backstage area."

"I don't know if you can be here dear..." She opened a small smile that makes you shiver, she approaches you little by little. "How about I show you the way out and we can talk outside?"

It was an invitation to silence, a suggestion for something she was interested in since that time she noticed you in the crowd, as Warren made the call for the third song she glared at you, noticing the way your body moved with the music, with the adrenaline that seemed to emanate from you every time Billy hit a higher note. And that's where she felt attracted, since the first time you went to The Six concerts, wanting to know more about you, after all, it wasn't by chance that she bumped into you in that hallway.

You come to question what had made her interested in you as much as you were in her, but you wouldn't externalize that question when an opportunity like this was right there in front of you. Then you smile arching your eyebrows as you take in the beauty that adorns that woman.

"I think it's a great idea." You state, she just turns around expecting you to follow. So you do.

As you both sat there on the side of the street, the night's events playing in your mind like a beautifully chaotic melody, Karen's words lingered in the air.

"I've been watching you, noticed you're always here at our shows, I appreciate the support."

You took a drag from the cigarette, savoring the moment before speaking. "Your music is incredible. It's like each song touches my soul in a way nothing else can. I can't help but follow you guys wherever you play."

Karen's smile widened, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "That's incredible to hear. I've always felt that with music you know, I feel like it connects people in ways we can't always explain."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, with a newfound sense of openness between you. Karen shared stories about the band's journey, the struggles they faced, and the incredible experiences they had on the road. You, in turn, opened up about your own passion for music and the impact it had on your life.

As the night turned into the early hours of the morning, the street around you quieted, creating an intimate bubble where time seemed to slow down. Karen's presence felt like a warm embrace, and you found yourself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"You know," she said, her voice soft and thoughtful, "I'm glad our music makes you and other fans feel like we do onstage, I feel like I'm doing my job right."

You nodded, gazing at her with admiration. "When I'm at your shows, it's like the world outside disappears, and all that matters is the music and the connection with the band. So yeah, you guys do an amazing job."

Karen reached out and gently touched your hand, sending a shiver of excitement through you. "I'm grateful to have fans like you. People who truly feel the music, who understand the heart and soul we pour into every song."

With each passing moment, you felt your connection with Karen deepening. It was more than just being a dedicated fan; it was a meeting of souls who found solace and understanding in each other's company.

"Will I see you often?," Karen said, her voice slightly softer now, "We're heading on tour soon, I'd love to have you around, get to know you better."

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that Karen's feelings seemed to mirror your own. "I'd love that, I don't know if I'll manage to go in every show but, I'll do my best to catch you guys," you said through a laugh, she laughs along with you.

Karen's eyes held a tender gaze as she replied, "I mean it darling, I'd really like to get to know you better."

You can feel the chills down your spine, looking deep into her eyes, "Am I reading you wrong or I'm not the only one wanting a kiss here."

"I don't know how I could make it any more obvious." She whispers, moving closer to you.

In that moment, time seemed to slow to a standstill, and the world around you faded away, leaving just you and Karen in that quiet, secluded courtyard. The air was charged with electricity, and the chills down your spine intensified as she moved closer.

With her eyes locked on yours, Karen gently reached up to cup your cheek, her touch sending a rush of warmth through you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned in, the space between you diminishing with every passing second. The anticipation was almost tangible, and you could feel the intensity of your mutual desire.

In that perfect moment, your lips finally met, and it was as if the entire universe aligned. It was a soft, tender kiss filled with the depth of unspoken emotions and the promise of something more. The world seemed to vanish around you as you lost yourself in the taste and touch of her lips.

The sweetness of the moment was juxtaposed with the passion that had ignited between you. The kiss deepened, as if you both had been yearning for this connection for a lifetime. Her fingers gently tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you responded with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her in.

Time became irrelevant as the kiss lingered, a dance of emotions and sensations, each of you expressing what words could never fully convey. It felt like the universe had conspired to bring you together, like destiny had carved this path for you to find each other.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with eyes locked, you both shared a smile that spoke volumes. There was no need for words, for in that moment, you both understood that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary—a love that transcended time and expectations.

As the night gave way to the first rays of dawn, you both sat there, sharing an unspoken connection that seemed to transcend time and space. The world around you awakened, but in that intimate moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, entwined in a dance of emotions and music.

…

As the months passed, the secret romance between you and Karen blossomed in the shadows of the rock 'n' roll world. With every show, the anticipation of seeing each other grew, and you both found clever ways to steal moments together, hidden from the prying eyes of the band and the public.

After the concerts, when the other members of The Six would head to the after-party with fans and friends, Karen would discreetly slip away to meet you. You'd find secluded spots, like the same courtyard where your journey had begun, or even venture into nearby parks or alleys, where the city's neon lights served as a romantic backdrop to your stolen moments.

"I missed you," Karen would whisper as she wrapped her arms around you, the scent of sweat and adrenaline still clinging to her from the show.

"I missed you too," you'd reply, your heart fluttering with excitement.

In those hidden spaces, you felt free to be yourselves, expressing love and affection without fear of judgment or prejudice. The world outside may not have been ready to accept the love between two women openly, but here, in each other's arms, you found solace and acceptance.

Sometimes, you'd join the other groupies, pretending to be just one of them to spend more time with Karen. You'd chat with the fans, enjoying the shared love for The Six's music, but you always kept your eyes on Karen, stealing glances that held more meaning than any words ever could.

The nights were filled with laughter, music, and the thrill of being together, even if it had to remain hidden. You'd hold hands under the table, the touch sending shivers down your spine, while you navigated the conversations with other fans, always careful not to reveal too much about your true connection.

When the rest of the band tried to flirt with you, Karen would subtly intervene, guiding the conversations away from dangerous territory. Her protectiveness touched your heart, knowing she cared enough to keep your love shielded from anyone who might not understand.

One night, as you both stood together, gazing at the starry sky after a show, Karen whispered, "I wish we didn't have to hide, that we could be open about us."

You turned to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I wish that too, but for now, I'll take these moments with you. They mean everything to me."

Karen smiled, her eyes filled with affection. "Me too. As long as we have each other, we can face anything."

And face it together you did. With every passing day, your bond grew stronger, your love deeper. You navigated the challenges of a hidden romance with grace and resilience, finding strength in each other and the music that brought you together.

As the tour took The Six to new cities, you and Karen discovered hidden gems, secret corners where you could escape to and savor your love. The memories you created were like precious treasures, etched into your hearts forever.

In the early hours of the morning, as you bid farewell to yet another show, Karen whispered, "I'll see you soon, my love."

"Count on it," you replied, a smile playing on your lips.

And as the tour continued, so did your love story, weaving through the fabric of time and rock 'n' roll, defying the conventions of the '70s. In the midst of secrecy and hidden affection, you found a love that was authentic, passionate, and true.

Together, you and Karen danced on the edge of the spotlight, finding refuge in the shadows, but always knowing that your love would shine brightly, like a brilliant star in the night sky, guiding you both towards a future where love would conquer all, even in a world that wasn't quite ready to understand.

As the months turned into a year, the intensity of your love only deepened. You became each other's confidantes, sharing your hopes, dreams, and fears. The trust between you was unbreakable, as you found in each other a safe haven from the pressures of the outside world.

There were moments when it became challenging to keep your relationship hidden. The other band members might tease Karen about her dedicated "groupie" or make jokes about your closeness, but she always handled it with grace and a wink your way, never letting the secret slip.

The stolen moments you spent together after each show became like a well-rehearsed dance. You knew exactly where to find each other, how to elude curious glances, and when to slip away unnoticed. The adrenaline rush of being together in secret only added to the intensity of your love.

On one particularly unforgettable night, Karen surprised you with a late-night visit to your hotel room after a show. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she slipped through the door, closing it behind her.

"I couldn't bear the thought of waiting until after the show," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Your heart skipped a beat as she moved closer, her breath mingling with yours. The room seemed to shrink, and the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe.

In that intimate space, your love flourished, free from the constraints of the outside world. You reveled in the moments of tenderness, affection, and passion you shared, knowing that these stolen moments were a testament to the strength of your love.

Yet, as much as you cherished these secret encounters, there were also times when you both yearned for more. You dreamed of a world where you could walk hand in hand, where your love wouldn't have to hide in the shadows.

But for now, you found solace in each other's arms, in the music that

had brought you together, and in the knowledge that, no matter the challenges, your love was real, pure, and boundless.

As the '70s gave way to a new decade, you knew that the world was slowly changing, becoming more accepting and open-minded. And while the road ahead might be filled with obstacles, you held on to the hope that one day, you and Karen could stand proudly together, in the spotlight, as the love that had defied the odds and flourished amidst the music that brought you both joy.

For now, you took comfort in the stolen moments, in the secret smiles, and in the knowledge that, despite the world's limitations, your love was a force to be reckoned with, strong enough to weather any storm.

…

But then the tide came in, and you guys were flooded with the bad news, Billy was going into rehab and they were going to stop touring. It was a shock to everyone, they were finally getting everything they wanted and like a roller coaster they were rapidly going downhill.

It was a nightmare for everyone, would they be forgotten? What would it be like to go back to square one after so much effort to get here? That wasn't the only thing on their minds, but concern for Billy was evident as well.

You feared what would come from now on, the tour ended… How would things be between you two now? You were afraid it was an impolite question, that it wasn't the right time to think of the two of you as a priority, so you didn't say anything about it, you just stayed there with her as long as she needed to.

"This is so frustrating." She utters after a while in silence, you stroke her fingers, then kiss each one in comfort. "I can't believe this is all happening right now, I really thought it would work out, you know?"

You kiss the top of her head which rests in your lap, then stroking her blonde strands. "I understand, it must not be easy, but I guarantee you that you will get through it. And you're not alone, I'm with you... If you want me to, of course."

She can feel the insecurity emanating from your vocal cords in this line, sitting up to look into your eyes as she cups your face in her hands.

"This between the two of us is not something of a moment, at least not for me…" You didn't know you needed to hear this so badly, your body relaxes when she says it, as if a weight is lifted off your shoulders. "I don't want this to end either."

You approach her kissing her lips tenderly, she reproaches with urgency and need, as if you are the only thing right in her life right now.

"You won't get rid of me that easily." You rub your noses fondly, kissing the spot of hers afterwards. "But... How are we going to do it now? Are you coming home to Laurel Canyon?"

She remains thoughtful, running through several alternatives in her head as she rests her head on your shoulder. "Maybe I could tell the boys... Camila just had the baby so any help is appreciated. You could move in."

You smile bigger than you expected, liking her offer, "Look at me evolving from groupie to girlfriend."

"Oh shut up! You know you've always been my girlfriend, there's nothing like that." She pulls you close, playfully kissing your face all over.

…

You were carrying your things out of Warren's van and positioning them in front of the house, you didn't know if they already knew you were coming or if Karen had already explained the whole situation. The only person you were aware that knew about you two was Warren due to the day he caught you kissing in a dark corner of the party, he didn't leave you two alone, always having a question and curiosities until Sirko told him to fuck off as she usually did.

Since then Rojas had become a good friend to you, ensuring that your getaways with the keyboardist always worked out every time. He opens the front door beckoning you to come in next to him, helping you with your bags.

"Honeys, I'm home." He hums as he enters the house known to him, "And I brought a visit, Karen your kitten has arrived!"

You feel your cheeks flush at the way he introduces you, Karen soon appears and hugs you tightly, showing the middle finger to Rojas who lets out a laugh as he leaves for his room.

"I'm so glad you're here." She whispers, kissing the tip of your nose afterwards.

"Me too." You say hugging her tighter. "And are they okay with me being here?"

"Of course, they are family and they know you're dear to me." She pulls you by the hand, passing the door of several rooms.

She knocks on the first one's door, waiting as she holds his hand. The band's bassist opens the door with a sleepy face, his hair messed up.

"What is it?" He murmurs, his voice still cracking. "Oh, hi Y/N." He greets you.

"Hey Eddie." You smile shyly, looking at the blonde beside you, wondering what her purpose was.

"Y/N is moving in, she's staying in my room, and she's my girlfriend. That was it, you can sleep."

Eddie widens his eyes, "What now? Your girlfriend?"

Karen nods and you want to hide your face in her neck. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Nice, welcome, I guess." He says smiling and then closing the door.

She takes your hand once more, leading you to the next door down the hall. Knocking on it.

This time Graham is the one who answers, he leans on the doorknob of the door, looking at you curiously, it was possible to see that he was tired, maybe worried about his older brother.

"Hey Karen Karen, you good?" He seems to want to maintain the figure of someone who's fine, she smiles a little at him. "I know you, don't I?"

You nod your head, "Y/N..."

"Oh right, of course, I'm sorry my head isn't the best today." He smiles at you, looking at Karen waiting for her to say what she needs.

"She's moving in, just wanted to let you know." She says and he seems curious about it. "We're dating, so I asked her to move in."

"Oh, I'm glad to know." He opens a comforting smile, you feel welcomed by it.

You say goodbye and she guides you to the house at the back, where she knew Camila would be with her mother and little Jules. You felt yourself stepping into a part of her life that you'd always wanted, it was like accessing the most secret part of her heart, having her family's approval was rewarding.

As Karen led you to the back of the house, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirled within you. This was the moment you had been longing for—the opportunity to meet Camila, Karen's best friend, and her adorable baby daughter, Julia.

As you stepped inside the cozy room, Karen's face lit up at the sight of her dear friend and the little bundle in her arms. "Hey Cami, that's my Y/N," she said, her voice tinged with affection.

Camila turned to see you, and a warm smile spread across her face. "Ah, so you're the one Karen can't stop talking about," she teased playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your cheeks flushed, and you exchanged a shy smile with Karen. "Guilty as charged," you replied, feeling a wave of fondness for the woman who held such an important place in Karen's life.

Camila gently placed little Julia in her crib, and as you approached, she pulled you into a warm hug. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. She hasn't stopped raving about you since you entered her life."

You felt a surge of happiness and relief, knowing that Karen had spoken highly of you to her best friend. "It's an honor to meet you too, Camila. Karen has been incredible, and I can see why you two are so close."

Camila smiled, her eyes brimming with love and appreciation for her friend. "She's the best person I know, and I can tell she's happier with you by her side. Welcome to our little circle."

As the conversation flowed, you felt a sense of ease settling in. The worries you had about being accepted by Karen's loved ones began to fade away, replaced by the warmth of their embrace.

Karen beamed with pride as she introduced you to little Julia. "This is the newest addition to our crazy family," she said, gently caressing the baby's cheek.

You peered into the crib, and your heart melted at the sight of the tiny, sleeping bundle. "She's beautiful," you whispered, feeling a surge of tenderness and love for the little one.

"She really is," Camila agreed, her voice soft as she looked at her daughter with adoration.

In that moment, you realized just how privileged you were to be allowed into this intimate part of Karen's life. It was like being handed the key to her heart, and you vowed to cherish this connection with all your heart.

As the afternoon passed, you and Karen spent quality time with Camila and Julia, sharing stories, laughter, and endless love. The sense of family and belonging in that room was undeniable, and you found yourself feeling at home, surrounded by the people who meant the world to Karen.

As the day drew to a close, and the sun began to set, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love that enveloped you in this cozy sanctuary. Having the approval and acceptance of Karen's best friend and her family made your love feel even more real and cherished.

As you bid farewell to Camila and Julia, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you were now an integral part of Karen's life—a part that she held close to her heart, just like you held her close to yours.

Walking hand in hand with Karen, under the setting sun, you knew that this love, hidden and precious, was a masterpiece in its own right. The love that you shared with her extended beyond just the two of you; it was woven into the fabric of this unconventional family, held in the whispers of laughter and the glimmers of affection.

And as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you felt a sense of contentment and joy, knowing that in each other's hearts, you had found a place to call home. The journey ahead might still be filled with challenges, but with the love of Karen and the acceptance of her loved ones, you knew that your love story was one for the ages—a love that defied the world's limitations and shone brightly, like a beacon of hope, in the heart of rock 'n' roll.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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