#I was trying to make new gifs of it today but… that series is quite difficult…gifsbane

[nyaa]

[mrslestappen]

Disease : paranoid ✦ cl16

summary: The fact that you have to work as a Formula One driver's assistant for your final college grade is not the worst of your problems; the true issue is that no one told you that you would become a emotional support human for him.

pairing: charles leclerc x assistant!reader

tags: fluff + angst?, caring charles (tiny bit) + comfort, bad thoughts.

# part one - next part [ series masterlist ]

Everything feels unreal. You're watching the mechanics work in the garage, and the only thing you can think is: has red always been such a pretty color?

It was the first race of the season, and you didn't have much to do yet, they told you that you just needed to make sure that Charles did everything that they asked him to do, and that was easy, thanks to him.

“Have you seen my notebook?" Charles asks as he looks around to see if he can catch a glimpse of the tiny notebook somewhere, you let out a chuckle, grab your purse from the floor and give him what he needs. 

“How is it that you always have everything I need?” he took the notebook from your hands and opened it “I try my best” he gave you a knowing look.

Charles still remembers the first time he saw you at the Ferrari headquarters in Maranello, you had just signed your contract with them and he had just been told that he had a new assistant. 

You were quite awkward and a bit clumsy when he first struck up a conversation with you. He learned that this was your first job, and he made a mental note to make you feel welcome, and also he didn't want you to leave him like the others. 

He tried his best to make you feel as comfortable as possible before the season started, he was patient and generally nice, which was what you really needed at that moment. 

When you made your first mistake and didn't tell Charles that he was supposed to be in a meeting, he took the blame and told Fred that it was his fault. 

You thought he would be angry, but he just said "It's okay, everyone makes mistakes" and in that moment you thank the angels for making him such a nice person. 

"Thank you, Mr. Leclerc" 

"None of that, we are a team you and I, if you ever need help just come to me." 

That was a month ago when you were still new and walking on eggshells trying not to make any mistakes, luckily you got better after all your final grade depended on it. 

"Have you eaten today?" Charles asks, handing his notebook back to you, just needed to check something he thought he should comment on the car in the next meeting they will have. 

"I haven't, but I was about to do so," you told him as you walked out of the garage with him beside you, trying your best not to look at him to see his face, which probably had a disappointed look on it. 

"I thought you said you already ate." 

"I did." 

"What did you have?" 

"Coffee," you mumble softly as you enter the Ferrari hospitality, "that's not food y/n," he scolds you again, you already lose count of how many times he does this.

Charles grabs a plate and starts to put different kinds of fruit on it, "you already ate," he nods, "This is for you," you try to grab the plate out of his hands, but he stretches his arm as high as he can to make sure you don't have a chance to grab it. 

"It's my food, let me grab what I want," he ignores you, grabs your wrist, and walks over to one of the tables. 

He pulls out a chair for you and you sit down, he puts the plate in front of you and sits across from you, motioning for you to start eating, which you do, but not before giving him the meanest look you can.

You take out your phone and play a YouTube video while you eat, it is a bad habit and Charles has told you several times but he still watches with you. 

When you put the phone at the right angle so that you and Charles can see the video without any problems, you notice that he is not watching.

“Mr. Leclerc" you called him but he didn't answer, you sighed softly, you know he heard you. 

"Charlie?" 

"Yes?"

"You have to stop doing that," he tilted his head as if he didn't know what you were saying, "I shouldn't call you that," "Why not?" "Because you're my boss.”

"There's nothing wrong with calling me that, besides it makes me feel old when you call me Mr. Leclerc."

"You are old" 

"I'm twenty-six." 

The look you gave him was enough to make a dramatic gasp come out of his mouth, you were already used to his tactics so you didn't apologize for calling him old. 

When the alarm on your phone went off, you grabbed it and stopped it before it could keep ringing, "Time to go, you have a meeting," you said as you handed him his notebook that he needed for to take notes. 

He gave you a quick thanks, but you grabbed him and raised your hand, he gave you a pout, but you shook your head at that, he took his phone out of his pocket and placed it in your hand, "it was worth the try," he muttered to himself. 

✦ ✦ ✦

While you were waiting for Charles' meeting to end, you took out your laptop and started to finish the assignment you were supposed to send for this month. 

You were quite happy when your professor told you that all you had to do was to send in a report on what you had done, the experience you had gained, and what you had become better at, for your monthly assignment. 

It was a pretty easy assignment since you were traveling around the world and learning things that you didn't even know existed, and since this was your first job, it was easier for you because you were learning a lot of new things. 

“Y/n?" You took your eyes off the computer and looked at the person calling your name, you tilted your head as if to ask if they needed anything but they shook their head and motioned with their hand towards the hospitality door. 

You quickly grab your things and walk to the door to greet your friend, "Did you see what Professor Brown posted in the announcements?" You shake your head and ask, "Is it something important?" "Depends, he wants us to take pictures of what we have been doing lately." 

It didn't sound too bad, if the assignments continued to be like this, you were pretty sure you'd get an easy A. 

"Did you do it?" You ask her, "I did," she nods, "but I came here to tell you because I know sometimes you don't check the announcements," you give her an embarrassed smile, "I'm not that bad," you mutter softly, and she gives you a look, which you shrug off. 

"Well, I'm going back, I'm pretty sure Lando is already out of control again, see you, take care," she gave you a quick hug before walking quickly towards the McLaren hospitality. 

You watched her go and sighed, taking your phone out of your pocket, ready to take some pictures to send with the assignment, "Hey, have you seen Andrea?" You jump a little at the voice next to you, "Don't do that, and yes he’s in your driver's room, are you okay? You've been acting weird since yesterday" you ask him with concern evident in your voice, but he quickly shrugs it off and tells you that he is fine. 

You make a mental note to ask him later. "I'm going to exercise, go to my driver's room if you need anything, okay?" You nod, take his phone out of your purse and hand it to him. 

He quickly says goodbye and walks away before you can say anything else to him, you have noticed that Charles has been acting strange since you arrived in Bahrain. 

You have been meaning to ask him about it, but every time you get the chance he seems to run away, which is so unlike him. 

You snap out of your thoughts and head back into the hospitality area, ready to take some pictures and send off the assignment. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Practice one is about to start and everyone is running around making sure everything is perfect. The only thing that seems not to be here is the driver. 

"Y/n, where is Charles?" Fred asks, you want to shrug your shoulders but then you remember that this is your job, and you should know where he is, you look at him and tell him you're going to get Charles, and he gives you a thumbs up.

You look for Charles everywhere, including his driver's room and the hospitality area. Has he left? You were pretty sure you saw him a few minutes ago.  

How can a person disappear so quickly? you even ask people from other garages and they haven't seen him. 

You tried to call him, but his phone was dead, it didn't even send you to voicemail. 

"Y/n!" You hear someone yell your name and quickly turn your head towards Carlos, he seems out of breath, and you can see his chest rising and falling faster than normal.

"Charles is in my driver's room, I don't know what happened," he said, but that was enough for you to start running towards the Ferrari driver's room. You still shouted a thank you to Carlos and that seemed to have caught the attention of other people who looked at you strangely.

But you did not care about that, you needed it to find Charles and to make sure that he was ready to get into the car. 

You reach the driver's room trying to catch your breath as much as you can, you probably look terrible with hair sticking in your face from how much you've been sweating, you want to kill him for making you suffer like this.

You were now outside Carlos' driver's door and you could hear soft mumbling, was he talking to himself?

You knocked softly on the door and waited for an answer, when you got none you decided to open the door. 

"Charles how can-" you couldn't continue as Charles was lying on the floor with his hands on his head rocking back and forth as if trying to calm himself down, your thoughts of scolding him left you just by seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

You walked as slowly as you could and bent down to his level. You grabbed one of his hands, and that was enough for him to look at you quickly. 

"I'm sorry - I can't, it's going to be like last year," he said quickly, you know from what you heard that last year was not a good one for Charles, the car didn't seem to work for him at all, you didn't know he was that affected by it, and now looking at him you didn't want him to feel that way. 

He's such an amazing person and always so happy and joking with you, but he was hiding a lot of things that had hurt him and you couldn't let that happen.

"Hey, you can do this, okay?" both your hands grab his face and you give him a tiny smile, "I can't..." you shush him and try to get as close to him as you can, were you allowed to hug him? You did not know, but at that moment he probably needed it. 

"Hey, those bad days don't define you, you're amazing and such a talented driver, last year the car wasn't good, let's leave that in the past, okay? This is a new opportunity and you're going to show everyone who Charles is, you're going to make them eat their words, so go and destroy them, champ". 

That seems to make Charles' worries melt away a bit, you told him to take a deep breath with you, and when you felt that he was better you slowly let him go. But that seems to be a wrong move, because when you do, Charles seems to look at you as if you took something away from him, but you ignored it. 

"Okay champ get up, time to make jaws drop with your amazing driving" you joked and you were quite happy because you could see the corner of his mouth move up a bit. 

"Thank you, Mon ange" 

"None of that, we are a team, you and I, remember?" 

He nodded and in that moment he let himself look at you while you smiled at him, he felt as if your smile had the power to melt away his worries leaving behind a feeling of peace, in that moment he was grateful for you, he took a deep breath and let it out, there was nothing to worry about.

He's pretty sure this season will go well with you by his side because you wouldn't leave him, would you?

Scuderia :: @evie-119 @tempo-rary-fix @spookystitchery @boiohboii @halleest @itsjustkhaos @aphroditeisamilf @vicurious28 @lozzamez3 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @heyheyheyggg @teamnovalak @fakeplastiqtree @michelleyw81 @lillyssh-tposts @these-books-are-ruining-my-life @kqliie @deliciousfestsalad @biitch-with-wifi @xohollie01 @charlesleclerc2003 @loloekie @elliegrey2803 @steamy-smoker @doesnt-care @delululeclerc @vip-access @theseerbetweenus @haikyuen @arian-directioner @marvelfangirl04 @melagem02 @rach3164 @zucchinimalfoy @scopeiguess @landoslutmeout @reiofsuns2001 @badussybumper @nixily @forevercaffeinated-lee @i-wish-this-was-me @gabys-gabs @entr4p3 @trouble-sistar @thef1diary @puttyly @solo2leo @f1and1d4eva @liliummz

Team radio: I hope you like! it I feel I could have done better but English is not my first language but I will do my best to improve, I will keep practicing and improving my writing every day.

[ichorai]

button ; coriolanus snow. (m)

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

words ; 3.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.

It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.

He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.

It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner. 

To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.

Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”

Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his. 

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.

“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss. 

“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room. 

Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.

Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.

Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.

By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.

Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye. 

He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.

He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes. 

The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there. 

You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”

There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.

He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his. 

When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?

“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”

“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”

A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.

The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.

Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.

It was only a matter of time until you asked.

His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.

“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”

You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?

Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”

His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.

Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.

A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging. 

“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”

And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.

Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”

The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him. 

You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.

And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”

She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.

“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!” 

There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…

Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.

“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—

Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.

“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”

Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”

“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”

A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus. 

“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”

The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”

Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.

His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.

“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”

“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”

He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”

When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.

“You know, I’m sure.”

“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours. 

“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”

He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs. 

“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”

He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. 

What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. 

Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.

“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.

“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”

His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you. 

You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another. 

You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.

He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs. 

Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…

“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”

“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 8

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, canon-typical violence, threats, yelling, plot

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 1.8K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

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“Feet together, shoulders back, strong core, and breathe.” Your eyes are closed, finding a moment of peace as you lead your sons through your morning yoga routine.

“This is supposed to be a challenge?”

“That doesn’t sound like breathing Luke,” you laugh, opening your eyes to see the bored look on Luke and Joffrey’s faces. Jace, to his credit, was trying to concentrate. “Inhale as you reach to the sky,” you say as you bring your arms up, “and exhale as you go down.” Exhaling, you fold your body down, hands touching the floor. You lead them through a sun salutation before indulging them in some more complicated poses and sequences.

“Our next pose is Crow, just remember to breathe and find your center.” You demonstrate before walking them through the steps. Yoga was one of the few things about your old life that you refused to give up. Even if you weren’t the most active person before waking up here, yoga and meditation were a huge part of your daily routine. Within a week of being here, you found yourself slipping out of bed early to find a quiet balcony.

The boys had stumbled across your morning flow today, and insisted on giving it a try. It was rare that you shared pieces of your past life with anyone, but their enthusiasm was infectious.

“Ah-” Joffrey lost his balance, falling to the ground in a fit of giggles. 

“So close sweet boy,” you laugh. “Try it again, you almost had it-”

“Mom look, I’m doing it!” 

You gasp, “Luke, that’s it! Hold it, and bre-”

“Breathe! I know!” Luke’s arms are shaking with the effort to keep the position, but you’re impressed he managed to get it on the first try.

Jace leans over and nudges Luke. Luke topples over with a yelp. “Mom, Jace pushed me!”

You struggle to keep from laughing at the petty squabble. It felt so normal and domestic to see them arguing like siblings back home. “Jace, apologize to your brother.” 

Jace grins, “Sorry Luke. Maybe next time if you breathe better you might not fall.”

Joffrey stumbles over to drop into your lap. You stand, propping him on your hip. “On that note my loves, I will be taking Joffrey to the nursery.” You kiss Jace and Luke on the forehead. “You two go freshen up, I will see you both for breakfast.”

They both give you a hug before disappearing. You turn to leave the balcony and nearly run into someone. “That was quite the sight, issa jorrāelagon,” Rhaenyra says, holding out her hands to steady you and Joffrey. [my love]

“Issa Dāria,” you greet her with a kiss. “Were you spying on us?” [My Queen]

“Me, a spy? Never.” Nyra laughs. “I have people for that.” She ruffles Joffrey’s hair before offering her your arm. You slide your free hand into the crook of her elbow, careful to make sure you had a good grip on Joffrey. “Daemon and I are both aware of your little morning ritual.”

“Oh?”

“How do you think no servants disturb you?” Rhaenyra teases. “Daemon and I take turns watching from the stairwell and keeping the staff away.”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “How long have you both known?”

“Since the first time.” 

“Maybe next time you can join,” you say, bumping your shoulder into Nyra’s gently.

“And forfeit the opportunity to watch your as-”

“Child present!” you hiss, interrupting your wife. Nyra laughs, shaking her head. You both walk the rest of the way to the nursery in silence, listening to Joffrey recount his brave efforts to master the Crow Pose. You drop him at the nursery, asking the maids to help him freshen up while you and Rhaenyra check in on little Aegon and Viserys.

“My queen,” you both stand up as a knight rushes into the room with a bow. “My queen, there is something that requires your immediate attention.”

“Whatever is the matter that it cannot wait until the small council meeting?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“There is a woman demanding an audience.”

“I am holding court later today, she can seek an audience then.”

“She claims knowledge of Lady Y/N’s illness.” 

Your gaze snaps to Rhaenyra and you lock eyes. There is a silent understanding before Nyra answers. “Bring her to the small council chambers and send for Daemon.”

You ask the maids to inform the boys of your absence at breakfast and follow Nyra to the small council chambers. “Do you think she really has an answer?”

“I do not wish to raise any of our hopes,” Rhaenyra sighed. 

Nyra stands by the windows, arms crossed as she waits. You pace the chambers. This was highly unusual. Maesters had come from all corners of the realm to offer their ‘wisdom’ and ‘cures’ for your ailment. This was certainly the first time that someone had showed up to demand an audience with the queen herself. The smallfolk and nobles were not privy to your condition. The maesters were summoned under vague direction and sworn to secrecy.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Rhaenyra’s kingsguard stand at attention as the doors open to reveal a woman dressed in white, led by Nyra’s knights. You furrow your brows, unable to get a good glimpse of the woman through her cloak. The woman bows deeply to Rhaenyra, then to you. “Your highness. Lady Y/n.”

“And who might you be?” Rhaenyra asks, suspicion lacing her voice.

The woman nods, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal a curtain of white hair and cloudy white eyes. She looked young, but there was something about her that felt ancient. “I am no one.” She responds. “I carry a message from the gods.”

Rhaenyra scoffs, “you must be joking. You enter my keep, demand an audience, refuse to identify yourself, and claim to be a messenger of the gods?”

“You need not my name, only hear my words.”

“Which gods bade you come here?”

“The same gods you swore your marital oaths before.” Despite her cloudy eyes, the woman seemed to stare into Nyra. 

“What message do you bring? What do you know of my illness?” You ask, desperate for an answer.

“The worlds-walker speaks?” she grins. 

“Y/n,” Nyra warns. 

“Just tell me your message.”

“Your answers lie in the godswood.” The woman reaches into her pocket, and the knights immediately reach for their swords. Rhaenyra raises her hand, silently ordering them to hold. The woman pulls a necklace from her pocket. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask, voice shaking. “That’s the necklace my gra-”

“Your grandmother gave you on your fifteenth name day,” the woman finishes. She steps forward, placing the chain in your hand, clasping her hands over yours. “You must return to your world, worlds-walker.”

“Watch your words witch,” Nyra says coldly, stepping between you and the woman.

“How do you know of my world?” You ignore Rhaenyra, stepping away to face the woman.

“We are all pieces of ourselves.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“Words alone will not satisfy you. Go to the godswood, worlds-walker.” 

The doors to the small council chambers fling open as Daemon storms in. The woman in white grins. “The dragons circle today.”

“They will do more than circle if you do not explain yourself,” Rhaenyra growls. “Stop speaking in riddles and tell us what awaits us in the godswood.”

“Answers.”

“Daemon.” Rhaenyra doesn’t have to say more than his name before Daemon holds a sword to the woman in white’s throat. “What is in the godswood.”

“Wait!” you put your hand over Daemon’s, trying to pull the sword from the woman’s throat. “What are you doing, she knows what happened to me.”

“The witch speaks in riddles and lies,” Rhaenyra hisses. “Worlds-walkers are a story for children.”

“And dragons are no more than a fairy tale in my world.” You plead. “Please, how did I get here? What is a worlds-walker?”

“Go to the godswood.” The woman in white closes her eyes and pulls her hood up. Everyone in the room gasps as the cloak hits the ground, empty. The woman in white had disappeared, leaving only her cloak behind.

Rhaenyra sighs, “first maesters, and now we are so desperate as to listen to the words of witches?”

“Search the castle for the witch,” Daemon orders the knights.

“My love, I am so sorry for giving you false hope,” Rhaenyra apologizes, pulling you into a side hug. 

You shrug off her hug. “Where is the godswood?”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchange a glance. “You are not seriously listening to the ramblings of a mad witch?”

“Either take me to the godswood, or I will find it myself.” You clench your necklace tightly. “You still do not believe me? Rhaenyra, she knew who I was, who I really am.”

“You are not a worlds-walker, Y/n!” You flinch slightly as Rhaenyra raises her voice. Her eyes are wide, “My love, I-” Rhaenyra reaches out to grab your hand, but you pull away. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “If it will help us forget this morning, we will visit the godswood.”

“Lead the way.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra walk in front of you in utter silence. Two kingsguard follow the three of you from a distance. Daemon leads the way as you walk through unfamiliar corridors to a garden. The trees sway lightly in the wind, their red leaves dancing.

“This is it?” you ask. “This is the godswood?”

Rhaenyra nods, “we will take you to the heart tree and back. If you do not find your answers here, we will never speak of this again.”

You follow them into the trees. It is eerily quiet in the godswood. The wind makes no noise as it moves through the leaves and branches. No noise of birds chirping or singing. You shiver, hugging your arms to your body to chase away the chill. “Daemon, can I have your cloak?” You look up to see that Daemon and Nyra are gone.

“Daemon?!” You yell. “Rhaenyra?!” There is no response. You turn behind you. The kingsguard are gone as well. “This isn’t funny!”

The hair on your neck stands up, and you whip around to see the woman in white.

“Welcome worlds-walker.”

NOTE: Hey gang! Guess who is finally getting some plot (ya'll). Sorry for the late chapter, I had a Pride parade on Sunday. Please enjoy the SHAMELESS fluff and slice of life before I give you all a very stereotypical vague witch to facilitate the plot. Also, there are some ppl who I can’t tag, so if you’re listed on the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3

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[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Three]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

IT WAS A CLOUDY MORNING when Y/n Lancaster landed at Barcelona airport, her eyes still heavy from the lack of a good night's sleep. The midfielder was accompanied by her younger sister and her manager. It would be the first time in months that Y/n would appear in public after being away from the media following her injury.

On the other hand, it would be quite a surprise for Barcelona fans to discover that the best defensive midfielder from the English league had been signed for the next three seasons. Y/n tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. Until the contract was signed, Y/n was still considered the vice-captain of Arsenal.

With determined steps and a professional demeanor, Y/n joined her manager in the meeting room of the Catalan team. She couldn't lie and say she wasn't anxious, because Y/n had to admit that her heart was about to jump out of her throat and give her a nervous breakdown. The midfielder had already read and reread that contract at least a dozen times the night before, and her tired expression seemed to be living proof of that.

This was supposed to be an ordinary Friday afternoon, but now Y/n was in Spain signing a contract with one of the biggest teams in the world, feeling relieved to have left a place that was once considered her home but had turned into a living hell.

"You know I can feel your nervousness from miles away," Aliyah whispered, observing Y/n's nervous smile. "It's not like the girls on the team are going to hate you. Remember, you're kind of an inspiration to these people."

Y/n sighed, knowing her sister was right about that. She shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill before having her first interaction with her new teammates.

"But that doesn't change the fact that they might not like me, A," Y/n replied, hearing the girl's soft laugh.

"You always come up with impossible scenarios. You're literally one of the greatest players in English history. They might not like you that much, but they're not going to mistreat you either," Aliyah stated, gently squeezing her sister's hand.

With determined steps, Y/n paced back and forth in her new apartment. The place looked like a post-apocalyptic zone. Countless boxes were scattered around the living room as Y/n finished putting away some clothes in the closet.

Y/n had her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She was in the middle of the chaos, trying to organize it somehow. She stopped for a moment, looking around and taking a deep breath. The move from London to Barcelona had been quick, almost surreal, and now she was there, in a new country.

As she tried to decide where to place a bookshelf, the apartment door opened, and Aliyah, her younger sister, walked in carrying a shopping bag. Aliyah, only nineteen, had offered to help her with the move and, in a way, was also taking the opportunity to explore the city.

"Y/n, I brought some things for dinner. I assume you're not in the mood to cook today?" Aliyah said, placing the bag in the kitchen.

Y/n smiled, relieved to have her sister close for the next few months.

"You're an angel, A," she thanked, smiling.Aliyah laughed.

"Relax, I'll give you a hand here. But first, Rachel called. She said she needs to confirm some details for your presentation at the club tomorrow."

Rachel was Y/n's manager, an experienced and determined woman who always took care of every detail of the player's career. Y/n sighed, remembering that, besides organizing the apartment, she had a series of commitments to fulfill.

"Alright, I'll call her in a bit. What else did she say?"

"That you need to be prepared for the interviews. There's going to be a press conference, and everyone will want to know how you're adjusting, what you expect from the team, that kind of stuff. Oh, she also mentioned that the coach wants to meet you before the first training session."

Y/n nodded, trying to process all the information. She knew the pressure would be intense. Playing for Barcelona wasn't just an opportunity; it was a challenge. The expectations were high, and she needed to prove she was up to the task.

"Alright, let's take care of everything step by step," Y/n said, trying to calm herself. "First, let's get the house in order. Then I'll handle the rest."

Aliyah agreed, and the two began working together, unpacking boxes and organizing the apartment. Meanwhile, Y/n thought about what awaited her the next day. The presentation at the club, the first contact with the players, the training sessions... and trying to bring her fitness coach along.

"You were really born to play for Barcelona," Aliyah said, placing books on the shelf.

Y/n smiled, feeling a bit more confident. She knew the journey wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to make it worth it. After all, Barcelona was a city full of opportunities, and she was ready to embrace them.

[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

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[mellowtrashtrash]

FNaF World: Welcome to the Freakshow!

Today I challenged myself to see how many characters I could complete in one day. We've got a lot to cover, so let's get started with...

Scrap Baby!

Pizzeria Simulator's iconic wretched dumpster clown!

Some of my finest modeling and animation! Scrap baby was a doozy of a design to try to simplify. She practically has the detail of every Sister Location character combined! Naturally, this proved to be quite the challenge, but in the end it turned out great. The shapes are very smooth and the rigging is exquisite. You can hardly even tell with how swift the animations are, but I was very deliberate with how those little wire-orb things were rigged. They move with the limbs and body to skillfully avoid obvious instances of clipping!

There were lots of hooks and curves involved in the blender process, and it was a meticulous and precarious process, but I managed to pull Scrap Baby together in about three days. After finishing her today, I figured "Hey, why not do a couple more! I have it in me!" And with that, my quest began. The next character(s?) I tackled was...

The Minireena duo!

Everyone's favorite claustrophobic nightmare children!

I decided to go with two of them, in reference to Sister Location Custom Night's two different sets of Minireenas, and also because just one would be far too small!

Now these little punks were a delightfully obnoxious design process! I'd never had the (dis)pleasure of working with two separate armatures in one character before this, and it was quite the challenge. But you all know I like a good modeling/animation challenge. It gives the sometimes boring process some novelty!

Sidenote: Minireenas' eyes are kind of weird. They show up only in specific instances, but are absent the rest of the time. Obviously so, as you can see their little endoskeleton in their custom night icon. No eyes! I think Scott just needed a way to make their jumpscares a little more intense, and didn't want to worry about giving them eyes anywhere else. But hey, those beady yellow peepers definitely worked! They're quite the uncanny sight!

Next, we've got the one, the only...

Bonnet!

Sister Location Custom Night's very own adorable nuisance!

Remember earlier, when I mentioned how just one Minireena would be too small by itself? There wasn't any getting around it this time. Bonnet is, by all accounts, a palette swap of Bon Bon, but does that hold her back from having her very own identity independent of his? Absolutely not! Bonnet has set herself apart with her signature mosey, her insecurity about her (literal) button nose, and her unnerving ability to maneuver around without the aid of an uncanny, leg-bearing, scary bear companion! (Try saying that five times fast!)

It's a little tough to make a character like this work on their own, but I managed to pull it off, and have somehow produced some of my favorite animations so far. Her big leap is very rabbit-like, and it's pretty natural-looking. Her hurt animation has a little shiver to it, like she's shuddering from discomfort. Her animations managed to be very lifelike, despite the limitations of the character's design.

Next up, in a sort of redundant fashion, we've got...

Lolbit!

The oddball salesman adapted for the screen!

Kind of an odd choice of character, considering Lolbit's already been in FNaF World, but with their breakout roles in Sister Location Custom Night and Ultimate Custom Night since their initial debut, I figured it was prudent to include them. My working theory is that once the story of FNaF World had concluded, Lolbit got bored of hanging around in Animatronica, and decided to find some business elsewhere, winding up with their unforgettable inclusion as a face on a series of screens that forces you to type buttons on your keyboard. Not the most stunning appearance, but hey, it's unique! And it's funding the development of new and better Bytes! Then once their contract expired, Lolbit returned to Animatronica to continue developing Bytes, only to find that new shopkeepers had arrived to take their place. Naturally, this meant Lolbit had only one thing left to do: tag along with the adventurers to find someplace to sell without competition!

In contrast to Funtime Foxy's monstrousness, I gave Lolbit the cheeky, cheerful charisma they've been rocking in every one of their appearances across the franchise. As a result, Lolbit's animations are teeming with callous impudence!

Finally, the character you've all been waiting for, the main attraction, the star of the show... It's:

Gumball Swivelhands!

Pizzeria Simulator's shockingly stupendous sweet-supplier!

Bet you weren't expecting this one, were you? Move over Candy Cadet, Gumball Swivelhands is the new star of the candy-dispensing show!

This character was unexpectedly fun to animate, and I adored the opportunity to model its face, but I must say, that expression seems awfully familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it makes me feel a profoundly frustrated sense of déjà vu...

Pizzeria Simulator is chock-full of memorable character designs, and despite its apparent genericity, there's always been something striking to me about Gumball Swivelhands. A concentrated sense of whimsy permeates this character like the suffocating aroma of six different flavors of bubble gum surrounds a gumball machine.

To me, this is what FNaF World is all about! Identifying and celebrating even the strangest corners of Five Nights at Freddy's history! There's a place for iconic, fan-favorite characters, right alongside obscure, sometimes even downright forgettable weirdos like this one! Five Nights at Freddy's is a freakshow, but not one that ridicules its freaks, one that holds them up high with a combination of joy and pride, like a father whose son has won the big sports game. "That's my son!" FNaF says, gesturing to the Eggbaby. "Hooray!" I scream from the bleachers. "Three cheers for these wonderful weirdos! Hip hip, hooray!"

I look forward to whatever I have to share next time. As always, thanks so much for tuning in! I'll catch you on the flipside!

[lvnleah]

three kids chaos.

the very last part of the williamson’s thank you so much for supporting this series and sticking around! I hope you’ve loved them as much as I have <33

find the series masterlist here!

November 2032 | 7, 3 & 3 weeks old

Mornings had always been hectic, but this one felt especially chaotic. Life with three kids was a whole new level of busyness you hadn’t quite prepared for. Amelia was only three weeks old, and Leah, still recovering from her C-section, had been moving slower than usual. Understandably so, of course, but it meant that the morning routines had fallen almost entirely on you.

Leah sat on the sofa, feeding Amelia, her body still showing signs of exhaustion from the night before. You noticed the way she shifted carefully, trying to get comfortable without wincing. Amelia was nursing quietly, unaware of the storm brewing around her. Meanwhile, Finley and Ellie were in full-on chaos mode, racing through the house like tiny, noisy whirlwinds.

“Finley, where are your shoes?” you called from the living room, already knowing the answer was likely nowhere logical.

“They’re in the kitchen!” he shouted from upstairs. You sighed, shaking your head. Why they were in the kitchen, you had no idea, but at this point, you didn’t have time to question it. Shoes in the kitchen had become a regular occurrence over the past few weeks. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was on the verge of a meltdown. She stood by the sofa, her lip quivering as she watched Leah cradle Amelia. Her little face, usually so expressive and full of life, had a pout to it now that was all too familiar. She hadn’t quite gotten used to her new role as the middle child and was clearly struggling with jealousy.

“I don’ wanna to go to school,” Ellie whined, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want to stay with Mumma and Mimi!”

You caught Leah’s sympathetic glance as she tried to juggle feeding Amelia and comforting Ellie at the same time. Leah adjusted Amelia in her arms, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead before looking back at Ellie.

“Ellie, bubba, you’ll see us after school,” Leah said gently, her voice soft and reassuring. “Mumma needs to rest today, and Mimi’s probably just going to sleep all day!”

“But I want to stay!” Ellie’s voice had risen, her frustration spilling over. She climbed onto the sofa and squished herself between Leah and the cushions, wrapping her little arms around Leah in a desperate hug. 

“Hey, Ells,” you said softly, kneeling in front of her and gently brushing her hair back from her face. “I know it’s hard right now, but Mumma needs her rest, and I’ll bet you’ll have lots of fun at school today. You can tell everyone about how you’re the best big sister!”

Ellie sniffled, her lip still trembling, but her eyes were glued to yours, “Mimi doesn’t like me?” Her voice was so small. 

Leah immediately shook her head, shifting a bit to make more room for Ellie. “Oh, sweetheart, Mimi already loves you so much. She’s just too little to tell you right now. But she’s going to grow up thinking you’re the coolest, I promise.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away, clearly weighing her options. After a long pause, she finally nodded, though her pout lingered. “Okay, I go school,” she mumbled, climbing off the sofa and letting go of Leah.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, kissing the top of Ellie’s head as she stood next to you. “Why don’t you help me find Finley’s shoes? Then we can get your coat on and head out.”

With the crisis momentarily paused, you and Ellie managed to track down Finley’s shoes—why they were in the kitchen was anyone’s guess—and wrangled him into his coat. Between stuffing backpacks, packing lunches, and making sure everyone had what they needed, it felt like a miracle when you finally got all three kids out the door and strapped into their car seats.

Leah was moving slowly as she eased herself into the passenger seat. You gave her a hand, watching as she winced a little before settling in, “Thanks for getting the kids sorted.”

“Always,” you replied, helping her buckle her seatbelt. You leaned in, kissing her cheek lightly. 

After dropping Finley and Ellie off at school—just in time, thankfully—you drove to the Arsenal training ground. Today was a special day. It was the first time you were bringing Amelia to meet the team, and though the morning had been chaotic, you were both excited.

 Leah had been looking forward to introducing Amelia to the girls, and you hoped it would give her a break from the intensity of the past few weeks. She was also having a quick meeting with the coaches about easing herself back into football. 

She may be 35 but she was still playing for the club. She’d retired last year from playing internationally but she hadn’t given up playing for Arsenal yet. However, you were dreading the day it came. 

Amelia had fallen asleep shortly after getting in the car, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she dreamed. 

“Think the girls are going to lose it when they see her?” you asked, smiling over at Leah as you drove.

Leah chuckled softly, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. They’ve been waiting for this since I told them I was pregnant. Katie’s been texting me non-stop asking when she can meet her.”

You both laughed, the stress of the morning easing a bit as the familiar sight of the training ground came into view. Parking the car, you unbuckled your seatbelt and immediately moved to help Leah out. She took your hand, her movements slow and careful, but there was a quiet determination in the way she stood, her eyes full of warmth as she looked at you.

“Ready?” you asked, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” Leah replied with a small smile. She lifted the car seat carefully, Amelia still sound asleep inside, completely unaware of the big introduction awaiting her.

As soon as you walked into the lounge area, the reaction was immediate.

“Oh my god, is that her?!” Katie sprinted toward you, her face lighting up with pure excitement. Behind her, the rest of the girls followed suit, gathering around like a crowd waiting to see a celebrity.

“Everyone, meet Amelia,” Leah announced, pulling back the blanket just enough for everyone to see the tiny sleeping face.

The room erupted in coos and gasps of adoration. “She’s so tiny!” Jen whispered, her eyes wide as she leaned in closer.

“She’s perfect,” Beth said softly, looking between you and Leah with a warm smile. “How are you both doing?”

Leah leaned into you, her exhaustion palpable but so was the love in her eyes. “We’re managing. It’s been a lot, but Amelia’s already worth every sleepless night.”

You wrapped your arm around Leah’s waist, pulling her a little closer, the noise of your teammates fading into the background for a moment. Amidst the chaos of kids, school runs, and sleepless nights, this was a moment of peace. A moment where you could breathe.

Leah turned to you, her eyes bright and full of affection. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice just for you. “For everything today.”

You smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Always, love. Always.”

“Things have turned out pretty well, eh?” Leah smiled. “We’re living the life we dreamed of, pretty girl.”

“They’ve turned out perfect,” You laughed, “I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.” 

[pascaloverx]

DANDELIONS

Summary: You are the new guest of the Bridgertons. Your mother, an old friend of Lady Violet Bridgerton, has requested that you spend a season at the Bridgerton house in hopes that you will change your perspective on true love and marriage. You are convinced that love is a fictional construct and that a marriage without love will be your downfall; but some time with the Bridgerton siblings might change your mind.

Author's Note: The characters belong to the Bridgerton universe and Julia Quinn. However, the story will have some changes from what happens in the Bridgerton series (2020-). Dear readers, this story may contain strong language and steamy romance scenes. It may even feature a love triangle. Be warned and enjoy the reading.

ONE THREE

TWO

The next few days at the Bridgerton house are chaotic yet incredibly fun. Between walks and conversations with Eloise, helping Francesca with embroidery during silent but very focused hours, and spending time reading with Colin, who introduced you to his favorite books and recommended others, you are quite busy. Every day you have tea with Lady Violet Bridgerton, who is enthusiastic about the idea of finding a suitor for you during the ball season. You try to share her enthusiasm, but the truth is that spending time with her family seems more adventurous than getting married. Today, for instance, you are taking Hyacinth and Gregory to pick some apples in the garden. In reality, Gregory wants to practice archery, and you think it would be a good exercise for the younger ones. Regarding the two older brothers, you have been avoiding them. It's not an easy task, but with Lydia's help, you have managed to escape any moments alone with them. You feel embarrassed for pretending to be hurt in front of one and for covering for the other. Daphne is the only one you have yet to meet, but according to the Bridgerton family, you will soon. Recently, Eloise introduced you to a close friend named Penelope. You found her to be very perceptive and kind, which is good since she seems to be part of the family, and you want to make a good impression.

"Lady Violet Bridgerton, I assure you that the three of us will be very careful while picking apples. When I was Hyacinth's age, it was my favorite pastime," you say as you finish adjusting your shoe. Lady Bridgerton still looks a bit concerned as she watches Hyacinth and Gregory run off with their bows and arrows. You smile, imagining how it will be to spend time with them.

"Believe me, dear, you will need someone to help you with those two," Lady Violet says, somewhat nervously. You look at her, feeling uncertain, and then you hear someone approaching the room where you are.

"I believe I can be of use as the older brother at this moment. I was just finishing up some financial matters, and it seems that fresh air will do us all some good," Viscount Anthony Bridgerton says, surprising you and Lady Violet. You know that Lydia will be joining you, but staying with him and the younger siblings seems like a risk.

"That won't be necessary, Viscount. There's no need to disrupt your busy schedule when I am more than capable of handling this task with my companion," you respond instantly, as if the answer were at the tip of your tongue. Anthony gives you a mischievous smile, indicating that he plans to accompany you anyway, which makes you feel a bit uneasy. Lady Violet, however, seems more relieved.

"Miss Y/L/N, forgive my frankness, but it seems that you do not desire my company. If that is the case, I would like to clear up any misunderstanding by reaffirming that I will be accompanying you and my siblings on this apple-picking outing," Viscount Bridgerton says assertively, taking a step closer to you. You stare at him, almost forgetting that there are others around you.

"Viscount, I can assure you that such an impression is a misunderstanding. I would never have any problem with your company. I simply would not want to disrupt the busy life of a Viscount, especially as a guest in his house." A lie on your part, as you really want to avoid spending time with Anthony. The Viscount Bridgerton is one of the most sought-after men in society. One wrong rumor about the two of you, and your mother would be demanding a wedding at Queen Charlotte's doorstep in a matter of minutes.

"Y/N, I can assure you that my son, busy as he may be, always finds time to spend with his siblings. You will essentially be helping him look after the younger ones. And certainly, my son will be honored by your company," Lady Violet says, lightly tapping her eldest son's arm as if expecting him to support her statement. Anthony nods slightly, as if in agreement.

"In that case, please join us, Viscount. Goodbye for now, Lady Bridgerton," you say, looking kindly at Violet and heading towards the exit of the house. Gregory and Hyacinth follow you while Anthony says something to his mother and then approaches you. Your companion, Mrs. Lydia, comes behind you silently. She seems to want to give you or Anthony space to talk. The two teenagers seem to be having fun walking among the trees.

"Miss Y/L/N, how long exactly do you intend to avoid me?" Viscount Bridgerton speaks near you, pretending to pay attention to something else so that Lydia doesn't suspect he's trying to talk to you.

"You don't need to pretend to be looking for bees among the flowers, Viscount Bridgerton. Lydia won't suspect you. As for your question, I think it's fair to say that given the nature of our last encounter, some distance seems plausible." You try to answer his question without really answering it. He smiles slightly, but it's a nervous smile. He watches the siblings ahead of us, while Lydia takes the opportunity to chat with the young Bridgertons.

"I wasn't pretending. A bee around here is too dangerous. But getting back to our main topic, I would like to apologize for the first impression I gave you," he says as if it were an obligation for him to say so, without truly wanting to apologize. You look at him, finding his pretense amusing.

"Apologies accepted, Viscount. Was that why you wanted to come with us? To apologize for your mistake?" You ask as you and Anthony walk side by side. Hyacinth and Gregory shout, calling for their brother and you as they find an apple tree.

"Not only to apologize for my mistake," Viscount Bridgerton clears his throat loudly, "but also to give you the chance to apologize to me." As soon as Anthony says this, you shoot an arrow accurately at one of the apples at the top of the apple tree that Gregory and Hyacinth are looking at. The two are pleasantly surprised and shout that your aim is great. However, Viscount Bridgerton seems to have become nervous, perhaps even a little irritated.

"Apologize to the Viscount for what reason?" You ask as you both stop walking and face each other. He seems indignant for some reason.

"For not behaving as a lady of your stature should. Surely you know you should have forced me to marry the young lady because of what happened. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to get married, and certainly not to you. I just think that in your place, I would be more concerned about this issue," Anthony says presumptuously, leaving you offended. You look him up and down and smile. He seems not to understand.

"Viscount, I must say that you seem to have misunderstood what happened. You intruded into a room designated for me, a lady. Yet somehow, you think I owe you something. Very well. I give you a warning: if a situation like this happens again, I will be your wife faster than you can pronounce Bridgerton." Your threatening tone seems to intrigue the Viscount.

"Is that a threat, Miss?" Viscount Anthony Bridgerton speaks as if surprised by the way you speak to him.

"The trick to hitting a target like that is to always have concentration and patience. A bit of determination is also appropriate." As you approach Gregory, who can't take his eyes off the arrow, you notice Anthony looking at you with a hint of mockery.

"I believe the young lady is mistaken. Hitting the target is about strength and often talent." You hear this and feel as if he is belittling your technique. So, you raise your bow and arrow in his direction, holding it out to the Viscount in front of you.

"Try to hit the target with your method then, Viscount. Let's see which one of us knows more about what we're talking about." You say, challenging him. He doesn’t hesitate to try to hit an apple almost in the same place you did. He is so sure he will surpass you that it's almost comical when his arrow hits an apple below yours. Gregory and Hyacinth are shocked while he shows no expression.

"Dear brother, I think Miss Y/L/N's method seems to be more effective," Hyacinth says with a humorous tone. Anthony looks annoyed.

"I want to try hitting the target using your tactic, brother," Gregory says as he grabs his own bow and arrow. Hyacinth laughs at him while he struggles to place the arrow on the bow.

"I actually prefer using Miss Y/L/N's tactic," Hyacinth says, showing you how quickly she can place the arrow on the bow. You guide her to focus on the target and tell her to think of something that makes her angry to make her more determined. You can hear Anthony assisting Gregory. Anthony and you exchange glances while helping the younger ones practice archery. Later, you all gather some apples together.

[fictionalslvr]

Part two part three

SYNOPSIS:Ghost is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.500k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:Ghost past is based on his comics, i'll prob make this one a mini serie (if you guys like), a lot different then what i usually write for, but i hope you guys enjoy without being what you guys are used on this blog, i'm planning to write both, angst and smut, even mix them sometimes. So, i hope you guys enjoy :(

(And again, tell me if there's something wrong, english is not my first language.)

It’s been a long while since you lived alone, and it’s been a very comfortable life since then. At first, it made you feel uneasy, after a long while, you were getting used to it, and having a place to call yours it’s everything you wanted before. Your apartment is cozy, organized with things you like, and you always try your best to keep it clean. The neighborhood is quite calm as well, you were living peacefully in this apartment complex.

That was until a new neighbor came in. He was a tall guy, he had a mysterious aura around him, it’s the quiet type and you don’t hear him speaking so often, actually, you never heard. To be honest, he doesn’t stay in his apartment too much, it’s the one above you, and hearing him it’s unusual. Maybe it is his work that keeps him so far for too long, you can’t say exactly what he works with, since you don’t know him properly. The only thing you know is that he keeps his face a mystery, always walking with a black balaclava that shows only his eyes, and this is a mystery you were dying to get to know. One day, while walking back to your humble home, you took the same elevator as the new neighbor, the silence that creeps out is weird, and you keep your eyes everywhere, but not on him. The silence was bizarre, and it seemed like it was going to take forever! When the elevator door opens in your floor, you can only rushes out of that tiny place with that man, that almost make you hyperventilate.

He looked calm during it, laying his back in the walls while his arms were crossed and he was looking distracted. With a quick but gentle movement, you just nod your head to him when leaves, he looks surprised by it, and nods back after some seconds staring at you. The metal door closes slowly, showing no more his figure.

But your encounters with him were always like this. Some head nods and sometimes a smile from your part, But the mystery this man is, no one knows him well enough for a talk, and this was making you insane, All days, you caught yourself thinking about him, how his voice sounded like, how his face is behind that mask, what he works with, what is his name, his age..things like that kept haunting your thoughts. Until one day, you decided to make a slight move, asking for some ingredient would be a great way to hear his voice, and maybe later baking him something to give it to him.

You sigh, you heard some footsteps, he must be home today. You knock on the door, gently with your hands shaking. It doesn’t take too much until your ears peak with the sound of him getting close to the door. His figure appears when he opens just half of the door.

—”May I help you?” —His voice is raspy, calm and relaxed at the same time. You notice how he has a strong British accent. From this distance, you can smell his scent, it’s strong and smells like whiskey and cigarettes, it’s oddly…comforting.

—”Sorry for bothering, I'm the neighbor below, I just want to know…if you have some sugar to give, by any chance.” —With a cute smile, you show him a little bowl in your hands that he can put the sugar in, the man narrows his eyes at you and nods.

—”Yes, I do. wait a minute.” — His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bowl in your hands and goes inside for a while. He leaves the door slightly open, and you just wait outside hearing his heavy footsteps around the house. When he’s back, your little bowl is filled with sugar, and he gives it back to you, his fingers brushing yours again.

—”Thanks, this will help a lot. I’m making cookies…would you like some?” — Your gentle voice was hard to ignore, he slowly nodded, and you can hear a little chuckle escaping his lips. It’s very good to hear, you felt your heart skipping a beat, he’s leaning against the door frame, looking at you.

—”Thanks for the sugar, I'm [name] by the way." —He keeps silent for a while, like he’s listening to your voice attentively.

—”It was nothing. I’m glad to help you, [name].”—You were expecting that he would say his name, but he just tries your name on his tongue. The tense ambient between you two is noticeable when the silence is back. You can only hum softly and look away.

—’What is…your name?”

—Simon. Call me Simon.”

—”Oh…okay Simon, thanks again and pleasure to meet you. Goodbye!”—Was a short talk, but it was enough to make your heart flutter with the warmth of his voice. You wave at him and he waves back, then all you can see is his back turning, his figure fading inside his house.

Quickly, you made your way back, still shivering a little, scared that he might think you’re weird. With a loud sigh, you close the door behind you, feeling safe inside your home. You know his name now…Simon. His voice is raspy and deep, and yet, makes you feel like you want to hear this voice every morning, the warmth of his body so close, his dark eyes staring at you making your legs weak. Everything about him didn't sound cold as they describe him.

He wasn’t that cold, deep and dark, no. He sounded so sweet and endearing to you, you just wish you could meet him better, talk to him more, listen to his voice, feel his presence towering at you, his expressions that you can only understand by his eyes, and you find this very beautiful, understand his feeling through his eyes, hear his warm chuckle filling the hall and not leaving your ears. It was memorable, even if it looked silly or too short. You felt really happy for doing that ‘move’.

Your kitchen is filled by a sweet smell, it’s the cookies you baked, with cute gloves around your hands, you take the plate with cookies and blow the steam off softly, Okay…you should give this to Simon now. You left a cute note too, that says ‘Enjoy the cookies, i hope its good :D’

After one hour of your visit, Simon doesn't stop thinking about his neighbor. You're sweet, you're the only one in this complex that had the courage to talk to him, the other ones just look at him from afar and give him some judgmental glances. But you...you came to talk, and was smiling too! That definitely means you're not afraid of him, that you're willing to talk to him even when he's using that balaclava all the time. His thoughts are interrupted by some knock on his door, and weirdly…he hopes it's you again. He walks to the door and opens, with some kind of rush, but he doesn't see your cute smiling figure, no…he looks everywhere and there's no sight of you, but looking down, he finds a little plate painted with flowers, there's some cookies on it and a note too. He bends his body down a little and smiles through the balaclava. Picking up the plate, he can sense the smell of the warm cookies, it's still a bit hot, the steam in the air, blowing a delightful scent. He enters his apartament again, closing the door with his feet as he looks at the cookies in his hands, they look delicious. Simon starts to read the post-it in the plate, it has a message for him

"Enjoy the cookies, i hope it's good :D"

-[Name]

That's cute, he thought. It takes a chuckle out of him. His stomach starts to snore in hunger, that smell filling his brain and all he can think about is…why is she being so nice? No one in this complex was ever this nice with him, somehow, they seem to be scared of him, disgusted, or even feel pity for him. But being kind? She's the first one and all he can think about is the reasons she's doing this. He's a stoic soldier, who works a lot, doesn't stay at home too much, smells of whiskey and cigarettes, he doesn't show his face, he's tall, looks scary…why is she not afraid of Simon? He sighs and shakes his head. Sitting on his couch with a loud sigh, he rests his head back while eating her cookies, it's indeed delicious as the smell, it's house made and tastes like love. He can't help but leave a joyful hum at the taste.

—"Why is this so good?" —He talks to himself, that seems a little crazy, but he's his only company for a long while, so he's used to this. She could have poisoned him with these cookies, but no, her intentions were good. He's a cautious man, always thinking of his work, and his work only. But now? He can only taste these good cookies and wish for more, he wishes he could taste a lot of things that she made, seeing her cooking would be adorable, and the taste and smell of it only fills his heart with love, the love he never experienced before. Simon caught himself thinking of being with her, on her apartment, seeing her cook while she mumbles a song to herself, moving her body along the kitchen so cutely, he can't help but think that he wants this for his life, this peaceful mind for once, being at easy, without all the fear his work provides. And for once, rest his mind.

But she's only a kind neighbor, he shouldn't be thinking of this. He shouldn't be thinking of coming back after a long mission, and seeing her lips curling into a smile, feeling her little arms hugging him because she missed him too much, he doesn't have this. And he thinks he didn't even deserve this peace. All the people he killed with his hands, the blood he dropped, the fear in people's gaze when he's around, he's not the one who should be at a comfort in home, happy and living good, no. He thinks he doesn't deserve this at all. She's probably just being kind, why would she enjoy his company after all? He doesn't have anything good in him, he's only a stoic man, with scars, a bad past and a hard work to do that makes his hands dirty. He's sure a man like him doesn't have this.

As for you, you didn't want to bother him with your presence again, so you just left the cookies on his door, rushing back to the elevator when you knocked on the door. You wish you could see his reaction, but you don't want to disturb his peace once more, talking a lot while he just listens. You really wish he liked it. While you're on your couch, your legs are moving up and down quickly, in a nervous movement, you can't help but bite your nails, your other fingers fidgeting on your lap, as your mind is full of thoughts about his reaction. Will he like it? What if he finds you annoying? What if he finds you weird and doesn't want you around? Gosh, your mind is tricking yourself. You sigh loudly and decide to try some sleep, this will maybe put your mind at ease once, meeting new people wasn't that easy for you.

By the morning, you woke up, not from the sunlight on your body, flashing on your eyes, not from the discomfort in your back from your sleeping positions, not from your cat resting in your tummy, none of this. But, you woke up by the sound of a knock in your door, a single one, who could be this early? You get up, leaving your little cat resting now in the bed, the sunlight keeping her warm. Your vision is still a little blurry, you rub your eyes with your fingers and walk to the door, opening without thinking too much about it, and the sight of who’s here messes your mind, making your vision immediately fix alone and your mind races, the sleep left your body.

—”Sorry for appearing so early. I am…going to work. And just wanted to say thanks for the cookies last night, they were delicious.” —Simon spoke softly, he seems not sleepy at all now, but his baggy eyes show that maybe he didn’t sleep, that’s why he’s so energetic now. You blush softly, his voice is even more deep in the morning, that British accent never leaving his tongue as he speaks.

—”Oh, that’s okay, I'm glad you liked it, Simon.” —Your voice sounded dragged by the remaining sleep, but you managed to give him a little smile. You want to know what he works with to leave this early.

—”I can see you were sleeping, sorry.” —Simon looks away, scratching the back of his neck even with the balaclava, scratching the silk of it. You look at your body and notice you're with your pajamas, it’s an old one, that is now short for you, and you can’t help but blush for Simon seeing you like this.

—”Don’t worry about it. Would you…like some coffee?” —You try to change the subject, hoping he won’t talk about your pajamas. A silence stays for a long while, Simon looks into your eyes, he’s surprised about your offer and it's visible. He can only nod and mumbles under his breath. He knows that he shouldn't be accepting this, he doesn’t deserve to have a calm breakfast, with someone who doesn't look at him disgusted by his acts, someone that is too innocent, that doesn't know what those hands did, what his ears listened to, what his eyes saw. For a brief second, he had a flashback of his past, everything he did. You're kind because you don’t know this man, don’t know the danger he could be to someone so innocent like you, who could literally break you with those blood painted hands.

You invite him inside, he’s now on your table, tapping his fingers on your table, as your figure is with you back turned to him, making coffee. This house is so cozy, warm and…a bit feminine, he could say. Simon looks in every detail, noticing how there's a lot of photos of you with what seems to be your family. You have someone that cares about you, everything he had vanished like dust, you’re so lucky for having a family. He wonders, if your family would take care of him too, if they would accept him like a son, and yet…he doesn’t have nothing with you, just some small talk. Maybe he is only overthinking. Your voice snaps him out of a trance, while he looks at your photos around the house.

—”How do you like your coffee? With sugar?”—He drives his attention to you again, who’s looking at him from your shoulder. He likes sugar, it’s something that can distract him from his bitter life.

—”With sugar, please.” —And after a while, in a good and comforting silence, you pour the coffee in two cups, putting one in front of the man on her table. He looks so much bigger than her chair, it’s a little funny, in a good way. The steam flows from their cups as Simon looks down to it, his face is hard to read, after all, only his eyes appear. Then, you caught yourself wondering, how he would drink the coffee with that balaclava.

—”I won’t look, i promise.”—You looks away, while blowing the steam and taking a sip of your coffee to disguise your nervous manner, bad idea, it was hot as hell, it burn your tongue, and you hiss in pain, dropping the cup back into the table quickly, happily, it didn’t break, You make a pout with your lips, your tongue hurts a lot now.

—”Oh, are you…okay?” —Simon left everything he was thinking behind and walked in front of you. He kneels down to level his height, since you’re sitting in the chair. His figure bends down to yours, his hands are shaking when he touches your arm slightly, like he’s afraid to make you uncomfortable.

—”Is’h okay…”—Your voice sounds weird, since your tongue hurts, you can’t speak properly. Simon takes a cup from your sink and pour the sink water on it, it’s not cold, neither hot. He kneels back, looking up to your eyes and giving you the cup with water.

—”Here, warm water will help.” —You do as he advises and drink the water without hesitation. The burden sensation easen a little, he seems to know what to do in this kind of situation.

—”How did you knew…thanks.”—Deciding to interrupt your question, you just say thanks to him. He looks right into your eyes, his expression seems softer a little, seeing you’re a little better.

—”My job…makes me learn how to prepare yourself for all kinds of situations.” —He talks a little about his job, not revealing what exactly it is. You look down at him, keeling down on his knees while looking worried about you, his hands still shaking, wandering on his knees, not touching you to make you uncomfortable. After all he passed through, he wouldn’t want someone like you to feel the same.

—”Thanks, it helped somehow. You’re really prepared for this.”

—”It’s my job to protect people. We have our ways to do so.” —Simon gets up from the ground and walks back to his chair, in front of you, slightly he lifts up his balaclava, revealing only his mouth and drinks a sip. The coffee it's not as hot as it was before. In a sign of respect, you look away, not wanting to invade his privacy, and he appreciates this a lot. After the burden sensation ends, you drink your now cold coffee, both in silence as you look away all the time, even with the curiosity to see his lips, you won’t do it. And by his words, you can guess what he works with…maybe he’s a doctor, a firefighter…a military?

—”The coffee is delicious, thanks for this.”—He feels himself going back to when his mom was alive, she was the only one who would really care about him, making him coffee…and this moment reminds him about her. It still hurts. A lot. He sighs softly, and you can say he’s thinking about something, but you won’t ask.

—”You often stay a lot of days out for work, no? Seems like a hard job.”

—”A very hard one, everything I do, changes a life. Big choices, big responsibilities…”

—”I understand…at least, I hope you can rest when you’re at home.”

—”It depends. I don’t really have any time to rest.” —You can hear Simon sigh, he’s really tired of this job. You still look away, not seeing his lips exposed a little. This moment, it’s the first one he could rest, even for a bit, not rest his body, but rest his mind.

—”And…will you stay out for days this time?”

—”Who knows.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. What a bad life he has, staying out for days, and when he’s back, he can’t even rest his mind. This moment, he wishes he could live like this forever, hearing your soft voice as you look around to respect his privacy, he didn’t even need to ask for, you knew somehow. Your cozy and warm apartment, it’s a lot different from his, his is almost empty, boring, sad. But yours? Had memories, life, and happiness. He wishes he could stay there forever. And he knows his duty, saving the world, saving citizens, or he could say…killing lives on exchange to save others. Making his hands dirty, so no one would need to do, only to see people like you, who has a family, a happy life, a rested mind, that’s why he does his job, so people like you can live without worries. In exchange, he sees things horrific, he hears screams in his ears that live on his mind, his body ends up tired and sore from all of this, just to see your smile on your face. He had a terrible childhood, he fought for his life, lost everything that was dear to him, in order to keep the peace in the world. In order to meet you, to see your brilliant smile. At least, he likes to think that way, this makes his life less insignificant, it’s like he’s a hero, when he knows he’s not. It’s just better to see this way, and hope it’s the truth, hope it’s not his imagination, trying to make him less guilty for everything he did all his life.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 9)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: this is the chapter that i have been looking most forward to writing. I have thought about it again and again. I'm sorry if the major angst wasn't what you were expecting but i added an extra paragraph at the end so it isnt too traumatic <3

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS: smut (not the fun kind), forced marital consummation for them both...

WORD COUNT: 1,334 words

You look so small in his arms as he carries you to the bedchamber, like a delicate flower that will fall apart if he holds you too tightly. No words are shared between your husband and yourself during the walk; an air of uncomfortable tension surrounds the two of you. Even when you enter the room and he places you down ever so gently, there are no words for a few moments.

“Perhaps you would like some water? Or some time to allow the effects of the alcohol to fade?” You’re drunk. He knows it. You know it. You’re swaying occasionally as he speaks.

“I would rather not.” You breathe out. The drunkenness is intentional. You don’t want to remember this night if you need not to.

“Are you quite sure? I think it would just be beneficial if-”

“I would like to have it over with.”

He cringes. It’s not the words a man wants to hear from his wife on their wedding night. He had always assumed his wedding night would be the best of his life, something filled with love and passion. He sees now that he was dreadfully wrong.

“If this is not something you wish to do today…”

“The marriage must be consummated.” It’s a practiced thought.

He thinks for a moment… then gives in. “I will do my best to make you comfortable. Come.” He beckons you over to him and you apprehensively make your way to your new lord husband. 

His hand moves your hair out of the way as your back faces him. His fingers move to the ties of your dress and he starts to undo it. You feel cold when it’s tugged down, even with the fire heating the room. You stand in front of him now, only in your slip as he gazes down at you. You thought he would look more hungry, more lustful.

“May I take this off?” He murmurs, his fingers toying with the strap of your slip. 

You know it is traditional to be bare for the act but just the thought of a man seeing you naked, even if he is your husband, makes you shudder.

Cregan senses your unease and speaks again, “Perhaps I should rephrase myself. Do you wish for me to take this off? You need not say yes just because it is expected, my love.”

“I-I would rather not.” You say with a shaky voice.

“Then you will keep it on. You will have to take off your small clothes though, but I think you should do that yourself.” He says carefully before unbuttoning and removing his tunic to give you a sense of being on the same level but looking at his bare chest does nothing but make you feel… strange.

You move slowly and he looks away as you pull your underwear off from beneath your slip. He then takes your hand to lead you to the bed but you pull it out of his grasp and crawl onto it yourself, looking at him with as straight of a face as you can muster.

“Will you have me on my front or back?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like me to lie on my stomach or my back?” You ask emotionlessly.

“Um… well whatever is preferable for you. I thought, perhaps, you would allow me to do something first, to prepare you?” He kneels before you, between your legs. His fingers play with the hem of your chemise, ready to lift it and place kisses up… up… up. “You would enjoy it, I promise.” The look in his eyes is warm, an attempt to be comforting.

“No, I don’t want that.” You move back like a spooked mare. He may be about to bed you but that is far too intimate. “I want it done with.”

“You’re trembling. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You don’t frighten me.” You protest, almost offended, even if you are afraid. 

“I won’t hurt you… or i’ll try not to.” You’re tense and a virgin, it would be lucky if he didn’t hurt you a little bit. “I’ll be gentle. I’ll take care of you.” He tries his hardest to reassure you but to no avail.

You roll onto your stomach so you don’t have to look him in the eyes, so he can’t see the tears that are threatening to fall. “Please just make it quick.”

Quick and gentle aren’t usually two things that go hand in hand but he wants to do his best to make it easy for you. Over and done with he thinks as he lifts your hips to place a pillow under them so you’ll be more comfortable.

“It will sting at first but we’ll go at your pace. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”  You don’t say anything for a few seconds. “I need to know you understood me, darling.”

“I understand.” The short statement is enough for him.

 He lifts your slip until it only covers your bum. Usually he would feel himself harden at the sight of such plush thighs but your discomfort makes it difficult to arouse himself. He pumps his hand along his shaft, feeling it finally get stiff. He then spits on his hand so he can at least provide some lubricant even with you refusing his attempts of preparation.

You almost shiver when you feel the head of him against your folds and your eyes screw shut when he starts to push in.

The resistance. The resistance of your body makes him feel sick to his stomach. He’s never had a time with a woman where he didn’t just slip in with ease and now he’s just forced himself into his unwilling young bride.

“I should stop.” He breathes out.

“That is all it is?” You thought it would last longer.

“No, but you don’t like it.”

“I won’t like it anymore another day.”

Gods he feels worse now. Will it always be awful for you? Will you never be happy as his wife?

He starts to thrust in and out of your warmth anyhow. If he can’t please you then he at least won’t prolong your misery. It stings no matter how slow he goes, your body isn’t used to such a stretch. He holds your hips carefully, wanting nothing more to kiss you gently and tell you how beautiful you are, how good you’re doing. He just knows that such sentiments would fall on deaf ears.

It goes on for a few minutes. The tears that were held in your eyes are now fallen as you bury your face in the pillows. You don’t want him to see how weak you are. It’s pathetic to cry over something that every woman goes through. Your tears won’t make you feel less ruined, they won’t stop the mixing of his seed with your maiden’s blood. When it’s finally over, all you can do is hope that there is a son in your belly so you’ll never have to warm your husband’s bed again.

He hears your muted sobs for only a few minutes before you’re quiet. It’s been more than a long day and he’s pleased you have found your rest. You shift in your sleep, your body never used to the cold as you turn to face him. He wishes he could make you as content in waking day as you are in sleep. Cregan’s hand brushes the hair off your face. He knows there’s no woman in the world so beautiful. Any man would be pleased to have you… but you’re not truly his.

Your brows furrow as you feel the chill in your sleep. You subconsciously look for warmth and you unintentionally find it in the man that lies next to you. Cregan isn’t sure what to do when his delicate bride starts to cling to him but he can’t prevent the small smile from crossing his lips. At least an unthinking part of you finds solace in him.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles @a-beaverhausen @petertingle3000 @lunnnix @hermaeusmorax @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @purplegardenwhispers @aesthetic0cherryblossom @katiemars @yourwonderbelle @callsignwidow

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 15

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Series Masterlist

You and Benedict decided to go riding today. Eloise wanted to stay back and read, thus leaving you and Benedict alone. You weren't sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

In the past few years, it's clear that Benedict has matured greatly, however, you still see glimmers of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. He's still playful and loves to tease you, but he also knows when to give you rest and let you think.

These new qualities he's adapted makes your heart stir and it's driving you mad.

You're currently resting at the creek where you like to rest on your rides with Bluebell. You guide her to the water and she leans over, drinking from the creek. Monsieur Montclair's horse, Jack, follows Benedict to the water, mimicking Bluebell.

Benedict is parched as he gulps down the water from his water pouch. You giggle, reaching up and wiping the trail of water cascading down his neck.

Realizing how intimate that gesture was, you clear your throat and look back at the creek, "I've come here a lot lately after James' passing. When I need a moment to myself."

Benedict looks around, the tall trees looming over, the sunlight peeking through the branches. He nods, "I can see why. It's very serene here."

You take your satchel and plop underneath the usual tree you sit under, "I've also been attempting to write again."

"And how's that going?" Benedict asks as he sits beside you.

"I have some lines here and there that I like, but putting them all together is the problem."

"Can I see?"

You snort, "Absolutely not."

He gives you a pout, "Why?"

"Because they're not ready yet!"

"Y/N, how many times have I shown you my unfinished work? Come now, it's only fair you do the same," he reaches out for your bag and you pull it away.

"Nope!"

He tries again, reaching further out and you keeping it out of his reach, "Y/N, don't be difficult!"

"I should be saying that to you!" you exclaim with laughter. You yelp as you fall over and Benedict crawls on top of you trying to grab your back.

You're laughing, "Benedict! Quit it!"

"Not until you show me your work!"

With as much force, you toss the bag and look at Benedict. Who scrambles to his feet and you're rushing after him. He gets to the bag first and now it's his turn to keep the bag away from you. You're chasing him around trees and brush, your laughter echoing around you.

"Benedict Bridgerton, you come back here at once!"

"Who are you, my mother?!" he cries out as he pulls your notebook out of the bag, dropping the bag onto the ground as he continues to keep away from you.

"You leave me no choice!" you jump and tackling him, both of you falling onto the grass with a thud.

Benedict groans in pain, "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes!" you cry out as you grab the notebook from his hand. You sit up, straddling him and promptly slip it into the cleavage of your dress.

"Cheater," Benedict grumbles with a frown.

You stick your tongue out at him and then realize the position that you're in, "Oh," you climb off him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You brush any leaves and dirt from your dress and clear your throat, "I'll show you my work when I'm ready, Ben." You stick out your hand to help him up.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, he takes your hand and rises from the ground. He dusts off his pants and look at the sky, "The sun is starting to set. Shall we head back?"

You nod, "Yes, that's probably best." You two walk together back to the horses.

Benedict bumps his shoulder to yours, "So, how are you feeling?"

"A lot better. Your presence has really helped...and Eloise! Yours and Eloise's presence has helped me a lot. Thank you."

"Of course," he responds with a grin. The two of you reach the horses, who have been waiting patiently for you.

Benedict helps you mount Bluebell and then goes to mount Jack. You two ride back to the estate in a comfortable silence.

___________________

At dinner, you talk to Eloise more than you talk with Benedict. You've felt like you've been neglecting her, which isn't fair.

"I take it you enjoy the library?"

"It's incredible! I haven't seen that many books in one room!" she looks to the Montclairs, "Can I stay here forever?" The older couple laugh.

"And how about you, Mister Bridgerton? Have you been enjoying your stay?" Monsieur Montclair asks.

Benedict gives him a polite smile, "Very much, monsieur. Your home is wonderful and it makes me feel relieved to know how well taken care of Y/N is here."

"Thank you, that's very kind," Madame Montclair says, "So, Mister Bridgerton, how have the marriage prospects been going for you? I hear your mother is trying very hard to find you a match."

Benedict suddenly feels nervous. It feels wrong talking about this with you around. He doesn't want to hurt you by potentially reminding you of James or-

"I hear all of London has been throwing themselves at Benedict," you say jokingly, which causes him to whip his head towards you.

"How do you know that?"

"Penelope," you respond with a smirk as you sip from your glass.

Eloise groans, "The amount of women that have come up to me to get information regarding my brother is so annoying and rude! The amount of times he's used me as a shield!

You chuckle and look to Benedict, "Can't handle all the attention, Ben?"

He smiles, "You know I never cared for it."

"Well if you do find a match, you'll have to let me speak to her first. I need to make sure she can handle you and your family."

He laughs, "Yes, of course, I'll be sure to remember that."

While you and he banter, Monsieur and Madame Montclair give each other a knowing look.

__________________________

You've just gotten ready for bed when Madame Montclair knocks at your door. With your robe wrapped tightly around you, you open it.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not, cheri. I just wanted to discuss something with you."

"Alright," you sit at the edge of your bed.

"Your father and I have noticed that you and Mister Bridgerton have a special connection."

"We've been friends since childhood."

"Yes, we are aware, but not that kind of connection." She gives you a pointed look that makes you feel like a scolded young child.

"Well...my relationship with Ben had always been platonic, but my feelings for him were romantic for the longest time, until I met James. The day of the wedding, Benedict confessed his love to me and then walked out of my life. He broke my heart. I do love James, mama, I swear-"

"Cheri, I never doubted your love for James. But I can see that your love for Benedict is something much deeper."

You nod, "Having Ben back in my life has brought on feelings that I thought were long gone."

Madame Montclair approaches you and grabs your hands, giving them a squeeze, "Perhaps this is your second chance, cheri. Papa and I have always told James to fight for what he loves. We are going to tell you to do the same. You take care of that heart of yours. And know you will always be part of our family."

Hearing and processing Madame Montclair's words felt like a burden was being lifted from your shoulders. You stood up, wrapping your arms around the older woman, "Thank you so much, mama. I'm very grateful to have you as my mother."

"And we're thankful to have you as a daughter," she presses a kiss to your head and it makes your heart clench a bit. If your mother was still alive, you were sure she'd like Madame Montclair.

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror.............Part VI

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Letha looks out for Caracalla. Geta plays healer and they are interrupted, oh so rudely.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, 18+ only

Word Count: 2.9k

Part 6 of 15

[ Part V ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like this! There's just something about a reserved, yet teasing Geta. I can imagine it so well. I don't think I would be able to rein myself in. I would probably already have been killed, honestly.

“I do love it when they flood the Colosseum,” Caracalla confided, leaning over to where Letha sat at his side, sharing his wide chair. He was hardly sat in it anyways, constantly getting up to lean over the ledge, watching the sharks as they circled in the water. She had hardly spared a look Geta’s way since his dismissiveness that morning. Besides, she had a new job now. 

She didn’t know what she’d do if there was a reprisal so soon, but she could try her best. It wasn’t as if she had any choice. She tried to ignore the pain radiating from her shoulder. No thought was given to her pain by anyone around her, so she said nothing of it. She wasn’t sure what could be done anyway, and she wasn’t about to ask Caracalla for some of his supply. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.

“Do you like the games, Letha?” Caracalla asked, leaning back in his throne, quite close to Letha. It didn’t bother her. But it would probably be an entirely different story if it were his brother instead. Just imagining it made her feel foolish. At least this time she could blame the heat on her state.

“Not particularly, Emperor,” she admitted.

He grinned. “Well, I think you’ll like this one. You might recognize some of them.”

Something about the way he said it struck her as particularly mean, despite his innocent tone. As if it didn’t occur to him that she could be distressed at that fact. And she was distressed. Though most of them were prone to act out their baser impulses, there were a handful that still knew how to behave around a woman. She hoped she didn’t see them here today.

As the boats appeared, any effort to converse with Letha was abandoned. She watched Caracalla react to the promise of bloodshed much like any other Roman she’d encountered. With unabated glee. He was childlike, but there was nothing innocent in the way he cheered for every fallen man, every spray of blood. He didn’t cheer for any particular side, he cheered for the violence. She now understood what Macrinus told her. That he was bloodthirsty.

And the sound. The sound. She grit her teeth, attempting to hold in the way she wanted to react to the fighting as it crashed all around her. She was dangerously close to getting lost in her memory. She could just barely begin to make out her home in the distance, the trees behind it on fire, when–

The impact of the arrow hitting the wooden post of Geta’s throne shook Letha out of her spiral. Her hands were on Caracalla in a heartbeat, seizing the shoulders of his robes and hauling him down below the wall of the Emperors’ box. Her shoulder screamed in protest at the sudden motion and forced a cry to leave her throat as she bashed it into the floor.

It was followed soon after by fearful noises coming from the smaller Emperor. His hand gripped her forearm tightly and she could tell he was on the verge of panic. As the guards moved in she helped him get up, keeping  a hand on his back to press him lower to prevent him from being an easy target as they fled the box. 

Once they were inside the innards of the Colosseum she eased her hold on Caracalla. She still stayed firmly at his side just in case someone thought to take advantage of the chaos. She had lost sight of his brother, annoyed with herself at the stab of concern that surfaced at the thought of his safety.

“This way, Emperor,” General Tegula instructed, gesturing to a small passage just behind him. Caracalla paused, feet planted in the flow of Praetorians and senators as they moved briskly past them to the public exit. “Emperor Caracalla?”

Letha moved around him, eyes searching, trying to figure out what was wrong. He looked a lot like how she’d felt back in the Colosseum before the chaos unfolded. Trapped in her mind. Terrified.

“Emperor Caracalla, we have to go back home,” she soothed, talking to him like she might a small child. “I’m sure Dondus would like to know you’re safe.”

“Where is my brother?” he asked, light eyes swimming with unshed tears. 

“Through here,” Letha explained, pointing to the doorway behind her. “I’m sure he is so worried about you. Let’s not keep him waiting any longer,” she smiled, holding a hand out for Caracalla to take.

“Hurry,” Tegula pleaded, urging them on through the passage. 

Caracalla finally gripped her hand and she gently tugged him along behind her through the descending passage, her other hand holding up the hem of her skirts so she didn’t stumble in the low light. She didn’t have time to think about the pain in her shoulder. She would check the damage done later.

Seeing light at the end of the sloped walkway, she prepared herself for the bright sun. Guards waited there to usher them to the safety of a waiting carriage. She gently held Caracalla back, stepping into the carriage first to check the occupants. She could feel him keeping a grip on the skirts of her dress. 

Sticking her head in, Letha locked eyes with a stressed Geta. “My brother?” he questioned, reminding her of her new responsibility. She reached down for Caracalla’s wrist and pulled him inside, moving aside so he could step past. The twins relaxed at the sight of each other, unharmed. 

Letha sat down on the firm wood bench closest to the opening as her adrenaline finally abated, the flaring of the pain in her shoulder now radiating down to her elbow. 

The two men sat beside each other, Geta listening intently as Caracalla relayed the horrors he’d just experienced. It was an intimate look into their relationship, one Letha suspected almost no one got to see. Though they were the same age, Geta was far and away the older brother out of the two. A natural protector. She could see genuine comfort in Geta’s face as Caracalla’s panic eased into a frustrated rant at the games being cut short. 

Letha nearly slid down to the floor as the carriage began to move, quite quickly at that. Her quick reach for something to grab onto caused her to groan, her hand reaching for her shoulder. 

“Are you alright, Letha?” Caracalla asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, holding her hand out to urge him to remain in his seat. The last thing they all needed was him hitting his head on something.

“Letha, you’re bleeding,” Geta spoke.

She was confused. 

“Your hand,” Geta urged, concern in his eyes. 

She turned her wrist and was confronted by her palm, stained with blood. She reached for her shoulder despite the throbbing pain and moved the fabric aside, realizing that the cloth covering was soaked through with blood. She let out a frustrated sigh and desperately hoped she hadn’t ripped any of the stitching. She didn’t think she would survive another visit from the healer and his needle.

Geta kept his eyes on Letha, unable to help himself. Even after they arrived home and she led Caracalla back inside, she still put aside her discomfort to follow his brother to his chambers. As Caracalla led her down the hallway, Geta could hear her assuring his brother that she would visit the healer as soon as he was safe in his rooms. It stirred emotions in Geta that he wasn’t prepared for. 

Under normal circumstances it would be him leading Caracalla back to his rooms, easing his concerns after such a stressful day. How Caracalla didn’t have an outburst at any point after the stray arrow lodged into the wood beside Geta’s head, Geta couldn’t say. It had been a while since the last one, and Letha had not yet experienced a true fit. She shouldn’t be so good at it, but she was. It was undeniable. 

Geta felt uncertain. With his usual responsibility to his brother taken up by Letha, he was left with nothing to do. He supposed now was as good a time as any to visit the bath, to truly relax and make the most of his free time before dinner arrived and he had to host their guests. An exhausting responsibility, one he wished he could delegate to his brother. But alas, his brother surely didn’t want it either.

His conversation with Macrinus had eased his concerns about her. Slightly. He had been lured in by her initially, and was captured by her show of violence, but the idea that he could become a target of it gave him enough pause to back off. This softness she had for his brother, however, warmed him right back up to her. He wanted to speak with her, to tell her he was grateful for her protection of his brother. To tell her she could never leave them now.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Emperor, but I still don’t know my way around this place. Where is my room?”

Geta looked up and felt almost startled by her presence, as if his quiet thoughts had summoned her. “Letha…”

“Yes?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He forced his distracting thoughts out of his head. “Shouldn’t you be looking for the healer?”

She glanced away, down to the marble floor. “I’m not eager to find myself at the mercy of that needle again,” she admitted. 

Geta smiled slightly, mischief blossoming in his chest. “Come with me.”

She looked up sharply, confusion in her eyes.

“I’ve tended to a great many wounds,” he explained. “I can check on it at least.” 

He could see the questions she wanted to ask, could almost hear them asked in her voice. No matter how pleasant, the implication of them would still cut deeply. He didn’t want to discuss it and hoped she wouldn’t push it.

“I don’t want to take up your time, I’ll go see the healer,” she excused, stepping back. 

“But you don’t know how to get there,” Geta teased. A flutter passed through his stomach at the sight of her eyes narrowing. “Come,” he grinned, “I’ll show you around.”

She let out a sigh before taking a step towards him, her hands gesturing ahead as if to urge him to start walking. He didn’t need to be told twice, holding her gaze for a moment before turning around and strolling deep into the palace.

Letha couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare move as Geta’s ringed fingers hooked under the fabric over her shoulder. She could feel him staring her down as he lowered the strap, revealing the deep maroon-stained bandage. She figured he probably liked this, her unwilling to meet his eyes, floundering quietly beneath him. She felt like she was back in that warm room, shrinking under the weight of his teasing. 

His fingers pressed at her tender skin, making her wince. He lifted the bandage up off the wound. The pain forced her eyes shut as she bit back the groan travelling up her throat. It stayed stuck against the stitches, the dried blood holding firm.

“Hmm,” he paused, “water,” he muttered, leaving her side. She allowed herself to look at him now, watching him as he approached a table across the room where fruit and pitchers sat, waiting to satisfy any urge he might have for sustenance. He returned with a cup of clear, refreshing water. 

She looked up at him, having reached the threshold of quality time with Geta required to be comfortable. She found herself slowly getting used to the weight of his presence. It could be dangerous. 

“Do all Emperors receive the training of a healer, or just you?”

The corner of Geta’s lips quirked up at her effort at banter. “I’d hardly call it training. I can summon him if you wish,” he offered, meaning the healer.

“Do you have a needle over there?” she asked, glancing over at the tray placed on the small side table pulled up to his hip. She did find it highly curious that Geta, of all people, would have these things in his rooms. She didn’t think it was appropriate to ask why.

He wrung the scrap of cloth out slightly before pressing it to her shoulder and the stuck bandage. “No.”

She winced, but tried to hide it, for his sake. “Then I think I’ll be okay in your hands,” she answered.

“My hands, hmm?” he teased.

Her face grew hot at his suggestive tone. “That’s not what I meant.”

He let out a chuckle, unable and unwilling to hide his amusement from her. “It’s hard to know for sure, you know.” He pulled the bandage away, leaning down to inspect the wound and make sure the stitches were still stuck tight. He was relieved to find that they were. “After our prior encounter, I can’t assume you to be wholly innocent, Letha,” he grinned.

Letha turned her face and met his eyes, alarmed to find just how close he was. His grin stayed stuck firm on his lips, his warm brown eyes fixed on hers, until, for just a split second, they dipped lower, to her lips–

She looked away, her heart racing. Surely not. Surely he was just being kind, thanking her in his own way for her efforts to protect his brother. There could be no other motive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider the alternative.

“So shy,” he teased, returning to his full height, perusing the contents of the side table until he found what he was looking for.

“Or maybe you’re intimidating,” she shot back, stilling as his fingers returned to her skin, gently smoothing a fresh bandage over the wound, loaded with some sort of healing poultice. She felt her wound grow cold for once, instead of angry and hot. It relaxed her.

He got low again, his face near hers as he pressed the edges of the tacky cloth down on her skin as gently as he dared. “Do I intimidate you, Letha?”

She met his warm, suffocating eyes. He was in control, had her right where he wanted. Where she wanted. She couldn’t lie to herself. As much as it went against everything that brought her here, she couldn’t help the way he made her feel. It was so unlike the reaction she had to anyone else. She wasn’t supposed to like him, she was meant to hate him and his brother, but with every moment spent in their presence she just felt more and more at ease. 

“Yes,” she admitted, her breathing unsteady, those snakes making themselves known again, swirling around inside.

She was a traitor. A traitor that let her eyes fall to his full, pink lips, watching as they parted slightly before he began to smile.

“Emperor Geta,” a soft, cloyingly sweet voice sounded from somewhere behind him. 

Letha again turned away, sliding out from under his fingertips. She hurriedly pulled the strap of the dress back up over the wound, ignoring the stinging as she sought to get as far away from Geta as possible while she still could. The interruption served as a rogue wave, washing icy water over her, putting out the heat Geta had brought forth. Drawing her ire.

Something close to fury overtook Geta’s features. It wasn’t directed at Letha. He quieted it before turning around to find out who saw fit to disturb him in his chambers.

“Lyra, I did not send for you,” Geta spoke, seemingly surprised.

Letha wanted to leave the room, reminded of their relationship instantly as Lyra brightened under his gaze, despite his tone.

“I heard about what happened, I just wanted to check on you,” she smiled, ignoring all signs that she might have interrupted something. Letha thought it was probably intentional. She wasn’t stupid. Or blind. “There’s still time before dinner, so I thought…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence.

“Excuse me,” Letha finally spoke, wanting to be anywhere else than in the presence of the tall Emperor and his lover. She strode for the doorway Lyra had just passed through, trying to remember Geta’s directions as they walked the halls earlier. 

“Leave me,” Geta ordered Lyra, a bit cold. Letha left the room before she could hear any more.

As she retraced their path back to where he said her rooms were, her face burned. Embarrassed, she pushed through the door quickly and fell back against it, forcing it shut. 

“Fool,” she scolded. “Absolutely stupid, stupid.”

Her rational mind returned now that she wasn’t suffocated by Geta’s aura. She needed to get a grip on herself, fast. She couldn’t allow herself to get entangled with him. What would happen when he realized she was sent there with a purpose? That the man she’d killed had been paid by the man that owned her? It wouldn’t matter what she might feel for him. It would be her death. Even now she was descending into a well, every moment spent not killing the twins was another board being laid over top, hammered in harshly.

If she wasn’t going to kill the Emperors, she had to come up with a solution to Macrinus. If he knew she wasn’t going to complete her task, she would surely be top of his list to be murdered with all she knew of his plans. She was in more danger than she knew how to handle. Would the Emperors ever forgive her for her choices, for considering their deaths? She expected not.

[ Part VII ]

[myown-worstenemy-2003]

Someone Else Callin' You Baby?

A/N: Hey y'all! I'm back on my bullshit with a mini-series! This is "chapter one" of the series! Can't wait to see the reactions to this! I hope you enjoy, and let me know any feedback that you have! If you feel up to it send me a request and I will do my best to give it justice!

Summary: You and your daughter are new to Hawkins, what's going to happen when you find your boyfriend, Billy Hargraves with someone else in his car?

Word Count: about 1300

"A-B-C! It's easy as one, two, fwee!" you hear from the backseat. You look into the rearview mirror, your five-year-old daughter was in her car seat looking out the window and singing along to The Jackson Five. You were on the way to see your boyfriend and for him to finally meet your daughter. It had taken you a few months for you to even think about letting him meet your daughter. But you ended up deciding that you liked him enough to let him meet her, that was today's plan.

You flicked on the turn signal as you came to the stop sign. You look at the house on the corner, home to your boyfriend, Billy. But you saw his car backing out of his driveway. You frown in confusion, did he forget that you were coming over today?

It was when he was leaving his road was when you caught a glimpse of someone in the passenger side, a woman to be specific. She was messing with the radio like she'd done it a million times before.

It wasn't until someone honked behind you that you realized that you still sitting at the stop sign. You turned off your turn signal and went straight instead.

"Are we there yet, Mommy?" Rhiannon asked, curious. You at her in the rearview mirror and said, trying to keep the tears from falling, "I think we're going to go to the park instead, is that okay?"

She nodded and them asked, "What about your friend? Is your friend coming to the park too?"

"No honey, somethin' came up, and they can't make it this time."

"Otay, Mommy."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Mat 'n cheese, Mommy!" Rhiannon said excitedly whenever she got her kid's menu and started coloring. You smiled back to her, "Yes baby, you can have mac 'n cheese."

After you both got your food, Rhiannon was eating her mac n' cheese with her fork, sloppily but it was getting the job done.

You started thinking.

Two weeks ago that you and him. Riding down back roads, and singing along to the radio. Well, more like you were singing to the radio.

As you were thinking, you looked around and noticed that people were looking at you and whispering.

You're just being paranoid. You thought to yourself.

You heard 'Billy' whispered with your name along with someone else's name that you couldn't quite hear. You decided that it was time to go.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Billy called you to hang out, that was when you got some answers.

"I don't know Billy, I've been kinda busy and want to stay in with my daughter tonight," you told him.

"But we haven't see each other in weeks. I just miss my girl."

"Am I though?"

Billy paused, "What?"

"Am I your girl?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw you with another girl when I was going to bring my daughter over for her to meet you. A few days later, I heard people talkin' about us at the diner."

"Baby, I'm sorry, I forgot that we had that planned! My sister needed a ride to-"

You cut him off, "Just tell me, do you still want me to be in your life or not. That's all I want to know."

He was quiet for a second. The he spoke up, "Can I just have a little time to think and make sure that I'm ready to give you everything I have?"

You nodded your head, "Yes. When your ready, I'll be here. Just...keep in touch too. I still care about you. I'll see you later, okay?"

He gave you a long hug and then you left. Not exactly happy with the result but it was a start to something hopefully.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Let's see, what kinda cereal should we get?"

"Hmmmm, Toast Cwunch!" Rhiannon said excitedly. You both were in the store getting groceries for the week.

"Perfect choice baby girl!" you said excitedly with her, and put the box in the cart. You pushed the cart to move down the aisle and Rhiannon shouted, "Onwawd!"

While looking down the pasta aisle you spotted a familiar head of hair, a strawberry blond mullet, with a familiar denim jacket on his shoulders. You smiled and waited for him to turn around so you could wave at him, but as he did, you saw he was holding hands with another woman, that was not his sister.

You quickly backed out of the aisle. It was time to have the talk about you guys.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You just put Rhiannon to bed and was watching TV while eating popcorn, when there was a knock on your door. You got up from your spot on the couch and answered the door.

There stood Billy leaning against the doorway, looking up at you with his charming smile that worked on you when you first started dating.

"Hey (Y/N), I missed you."

"Hi Billy, come in," you let him in and close the door behind you. You stand in the middle of the living room with your arms crossed, "How've you been?"

"Good, I've been meaning to call you and take you out," he said with his 'charming' smile again, now that smile just made you mad.

"Just been a bit...busy?" you asked with a little venom dripping in your voice.

"Yeah...a little busy," he looked at you for a second after picking up on your voice, "How about you?"

"Who was the girl that you were with in the grocery store the other day?" you asked out of nowhere. You could see that he was taken aback.

He didn't know that you saw him.

"I was with my cousin."

"Oh, really? You hold hands with your cousins?"

He threw his head back, and you said, "Just tell me what you really want. You wanted time and space, so I backed off and let you have that. I didn't think that it meant movin' along. So if you are callin' someone else baby just tell me. Bein' in the dark is drivin' me crazy and I just need to know."

He looked at you like he didn't know what to say.

"Look, it'll be what it will be, it's either her or me. Give me the word and you can be free and I'll leave you alone. If you're over me, just lay it on me. Just rip the Band-Aid off. So...are you seein' someone else?"

He looked away and quietly said, "Yes. I am."

"Okay. That's all I needed to know. Thank you. I'll see you around Billy," you said in monotone voice and opened the door for him and he walked out. He looked back once and then walked to his car and left.

You closed the door as he left, you sighed as you sat down on the couch. That's when you let the tears flow.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 70

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,735ish

Summary: Your relationship continues to progress as your health declines.

Warning(s): health problems, illusions to sex, talk of death

Notes: There's some time skips in here and a rollercoaster of emotions. Please send in reactions! Can't believe there's only the final 2 chapters left. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Kissing and making out quickly become your and Logan’s favorite thing to do together. But Logan especially loved stealing small kisses as the two of you cooked, cleaned, cuddled together or just any time he could. 

Despite your hesitation, Logan took over the rent. You told Laura about getting fired but told her not to worry, that you and Logan had a plan. She argued at first, saying that she could quit school and work full time, but you quickly convinced her otherwise.

At this point, Logan was basically living at your place. He would go home to sleep and change for a few hours but he was over at your place for the rest of his free time. 

It had been weeks since your first kiss and your powers were increasingly getting worse. You were currently laying on the couch, groaning in pain. Your joints felt like they were on fire, which they probably were. You had completely lost track of time and failed to realize that it was time for dinner until Logan came home from work.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted. His eyes fell to you on the couch and could immediately tell that something was wrong. He rushed over to your side. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

“Everything… hurts…” you panted.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t… want… to… bother…”

Logan shook his head. “You’re never a bother, doll.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, sighing as he felt how hot you were. “What can I do to help?”

“Bed…”

Without another word, Logan carefully pushed his arms underneath you and pulled you into his chest. He stood up and carried you to bed.

“What else can I do for you, baby?” He asked, softly.

“Nothing,” you rasped. “I’m fine…”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your stomach rumbled. “Darlin’, have you eaten at all today?”

“A little.”

Logan sighed. “That’s not okay. Will you be okay if I leave to go make some dinner?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” He leaned in and pecked your lips. “Call for me if you need anything, alright?”

You hummed as your eyes fluttered closed. Logan sighed, hating that he couldn’t do anything to take away your pain. The cure seemed to burn a hole in his pocket as he headed for the kitchen. He knew that you were getting worse and that the cure may not work, but Logan was becoming close to getting on his knees and begging for you to try it. Though, then he remembered that if it didn't work, that he could lose you forever and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

~~~

“Wake up, darlin’.” Logan’s soft voice began to rouse you from your slumber. “Time to eat.”

You groaned. “More sleep,” you mumbled.

Logan chuckled. “You need some food in you, baby. Gotta keep you healthy.” Your eyes blinked open until they were focused on him. “There’s those beautiful eyes.” 

You smiled. As you went to sit up, you whine. Logan’s hands were quickly on you, helping you up. His hands pressed into your back further once he felt that your temperature had dropped. He was absolutely hating this. One second he felt like you were okay and the next, he was reminded that you were dying.

“Come on, darlin’, I got you,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms.

Logan carried you down the hall and to the table. He set you down on a chair and quickly grabbed a blanket to wrap around you.

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled up at him.

“Of course,” he kissed your head before he dished you up some food and set the plate down.

“Thank you for how well you take care of me.”

“Least I could do for the woman I love.”

Your eyes went wide, completely caught off guard by the confession. “You… what?”

“Uh, yeah, I… I love you.” A brief moment of silence followed before Logan began rambling, “And you don’t have to saw it back. In fact, you never do. I’m okay with loving you like this. I’m okay with—“

“I love you, too, Lo.”

You had never see a smile on Logan’s face like the one he was wearing right now. “You do?”

“Yes, Lo, I do.”

He leaned down and captured your lips into a loving kiss. Your hand snaked up to the back of his neck, keeping his lips close, while his hands found your waist. Letting your emotions get the best of you, the chair next to you went up in flames. You whimpered into Logan’s mouth before he quickly pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry you fell in love with a dying version of me.”

Logan’s hand came up and cupped your cheek as he shook his head. “Don’t. I’m just grateful to love you as long as I can.” 

~~~

Logan and you still had yet to have sex. The two of you had made out and let it get heated, but you either stopped yourselves from going further or your powers stopped you. But there was one thing that Logan longed to do before he even had sex with you, and that was to hold your hand. It sounded stupid and simple, but it was true. He wanted to hold your hand as the two of you watched movies and as you walked the streets. He wanted to hold your hand over the consul of the car and bring it up to his mouth for a kiss. But you never let him.

One night, the two of you were cuddling on the couch. Logan reached over and took one of your hands. He noticed how you immediately tensed, but chose to ignore it. Logan began to caressing each finger and the palm of your hand. He felt each scar like he was trying to memorize them.

You bit your lip as tears began collect in your eyes. You hated your hands, how they were now rough with scars. You hated how Logan was touching one of them now, with such gentle care. But you didn’t want to pull away because you didn't want to upset him.

Logan knew that something more was going on as your hand began to heat up and flames began flicking at your fingertips. He pulled you back into him more and kissed your cheek.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He whispered. The new term of endearment sent chills down your spine. 

“Nothing,” you tried to brush it off. “I’m fine.”

“I thought that we were going to stop with those lies?”

You sighed. “I… I hate my hands… They don’t feel or look nice with all the scars on them.”

“I love your hands.” You scoffed. “I’m serious, baby.” He lifted the hand that he was already holding up to his lips and began pressing kisses to it, especially focusing on the new burns forming. “They’re so powerful and delicate at the same time. They’ve fought so hard all these years and they keep fighting hard for the ones you love… And I know that I would love holding them if you would let me.”

“You wouldn’t think that they feel weird?”

“Not a chance, darlin’. I know that they would make me feel grounded and closer to you. But I won’t press you into it if you really don’t want to.”

“I’d like to try… if you don't mind the scars.”

“Baby, I love the scars.” He kissed the palm of your hand. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

~~~

Laura came home one day to find you shivering on the couch.

“Mom!” She exclaimed, rushing to you. She touched your face and gasped at how cold you felt. She grabbed two blankets and wrapped you in them. “Mom, tell me how long this has been going on?”

“M—most of the d—day…” you stammered.

“Why didn’t you call anyone?”

“Didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“And coming home to find you like this is better?”

“Buttercup!” Wade announced his entrance. “I’m here to see— Shit!” He rushed over.

“Wade, I need you to take her to the bedroom, try to get her warmed up. I’ll grab some other items to warm her up.

“On it! Heating pad, Wade, coming right up!” Wade scooped you up and carried you to your room. He got you situated in a pile of blankets before joining you in bed, cuddling against you. “I’ve got you, Buttercup. Gonna get you all warmed up.”

~~~

“Hey, Laura,” Logan greeted as he entered the apartment. “How was—what’s wrong?” He grew concerned when he noticed she was crying. 

“I—I—I found her freezing on the couch,” Laura cried. “I’ve never felt her so cold… Logan… I’m going to lose her… I’m going to lose my mother.”

Logan pulled her into his embrace with a quiet shush. He didn’t say anything as let her cry while holding her close. He knew that there was nothing he could say to fix this. You were dying and even the cure weighing heavily in his pocket may not save you. This was a lot for all of you and it seemed that Laura was slipping through the cracks.

“I can’t lose her,” cried Laura. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Logan whispered, kissing her head. “I can’t lose her either.” Logan held her close, letting Laura cry it all out. 

“Wade’s in the bedroom with her,” she whispered once the tears subsided. “He’s trying to warm her up.”

“I’ll go switch him out.” Logan pulled away. “We’re going to get through this, kid. No matter what happens.”

Laura nodded. “I’m going to start dinner.”

Laura hurried away to the kitchen while Logan headed down the hall. Your bedroom door was open, revealing you in a pile of blankets and Wade wrapped around you.

“Lo,” you breathed out when you noticed him at the door.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled at you, stepping into the room. “Is this asshole bothering you?”

“Hey!” Wade exclaimed.

“No,” you laughed. “He’s been helpful. Not as warm as you though.”

“Good,” Logan said. “I’m supposed to be your personal heater. Off, Wilson.”

“Fine,” Wade huffed. “I’m going to go help Laura. Maybe she wants me.” He kissed your cheek before getting up and shutting the door behind him.

Logan pulled off his jacket, tossing it aside, as he slipped off his shoes. Carefully, Logan took Wade’s spot and pulled you into him.

“How was your day, babe?” You asked, pressing a kiss to the shaved spot on his chin.

“Fine,” he replied. “Just work. Wish you would have called.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ve got to start calling someone, baby. Or someone’s going to have to be home with you at all times.”

“I just hate that I’m getting worse.”

“I know, doll. Me too… You know that you could always try the cure.”

“No. No. I’m not ready to take that risk yet. I need more time… we need more time.”

Logan sighed, knowing that you were right. He gave you a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you, darlin’. So much.”

“I know, Lo. I love you, too.”

~~~

Logan began sleeping on the couch, too worried that his apartment was too far away if you needed anything. After a few nights, you began falling asleep on him while watching movies. At first, he would tuck you in once the movie was over and then go back to the couch for the rest of the night. Then, Logan started falling asleep during the movies too, with you on top of him. 

Laura woke up in the mornings to find the two of you like that. She snapped a few pictures the first couple of days but as it continued, the sight just caused her to roll her eyes.

“Have you guys ever heard of a bed?” She teased one morning. “Mom has a bed. It’s in her room down the hall. It’s big and super comfortable. It can fit both of you. Use it. Please.” Then she left for the day.

You and Logan laughed.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you,” you told him before kissing under his chin.

“Yeah?” He questioned. “You sure?”

“I’m positive. Plus, don’t you feel a little cramped on the couch?”

“Depends… are we using the bed for—“

“Sleeping. Right now, just sleeping.”

Logan smirked. “I guess I can be fine with that.”

~~~

Logan and you walked down the street, holding hands. He had just taken you to a nice dinner and the two of you were heading home.

“It’s a pretty night,” you commented.

“Not as pretty as you, my love,” Logan told you.

“Lo,” you leaned into his shoulder bashfully.

“What? It’s true. I’m the luckiest man alive to be with a woman as beautiful as you. Inside and out.”

“Even with all my scars?”

“Even with all your beautiful scars.” 

“Lo?”

“Yes, my love?”

You stopped and got in front of him. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss.

“Take me home,” you breathed agains this lips. “Laura’s not home tonight. Take me home."

Logan quickly got you home and the two of you began making out in bed. You pushed him to lay down and you straddled him. His hands found your hips as he broke the kiss.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispered. “I’m completely okay with just kissing you for the rest of forever.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded.

The two of you began kissing again, Logan letting you take the lead completely. Your hands slipped underneath Logan’s shirt and quickly heated up. He groaned and you quickly pulled away, sitting up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean too.”

“I know, darlin’,” he said. “I’m just worried about you. I don't want you to hurt yourself. You gotta tell me when it’s too much, alright?”

“Alright.”

“We stop as soon as you start hurting. Got it? I can handle all the pain, just not you in pain.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Logan was nothing but a perfect gentleman, letting you have complete control except for when he could tell that you were over doing it. The two of you had to take a few breaks in order for you to not burst into flames, but Logan didn’t mind as long as he was with you. Logan would remember that night as the last perfect night for a long time. 

The next morning, Logan woke up first. You were still cuddled up and naked against him and freezing. Your skin was also dry and ashy. When you finally woke, you were crying out in pain. Logan immediately got to work on taking care of you. It was a long and painful day for the two of you. That night, Logan got Laura and Wade together and the three of them decided that you could no longer be home alone. Logan would continue to work and mainly take the night shift and weekends. Wade would be over you when Laura wasn't working or going to school because both Wade and Logan pressed once again that her quitting was not an option.

It was a week later when you began coughing up ashes. And another few days after when your whole body kept setting itself on fire. It got to the point where you were now basically living in a blow up pool in the middle of the living room. It was the only way to keep you from catching fire. The problem is, they couldn’t keep the water warm enough to stop the chills.

They all put up with this for six weeks before Laura finally broke.

“Mom,” she gripped your hand tightly as you laid in the pool. “You can’t keep going like this… We can’t keep seeing you like this.” Tears streamed down Laura’s cheeks. “I can’t do this. I know that you originally said no to taking the cure, but, please mom, for me. I need you to try.”

“Kiddo,” you rasped, giving her hand the beset squeeze you could muster.

“Please mom. For me. I need you to try. I can’t watch another parent die a terrible death.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you at least tried and I will know that.”

Your eyes fell to Logan and Wade who were behind her. You could tell that they were feeling the same.

“Okay,” you breathed out. “I’ll take the cure.”

~~~~

Notes: I am not saying which version is angsty and which version is fluffy, though they both start out angsty. I hope that you choose to read both of them.

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[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 9

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: We’ve made it, friends. 🥹 But stay tuned, I have a special announcement after the end of this chapter.~

Word Count: 4.1K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

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Part 9: A Choice to Make

There was a man in your bed.

You were pleased to discover that, although your kidnapping of two days ago hadn’t been a dream, being held warm and secure in someone’s arms this morning wasn’t either.

After slowly blinking awake, you looked up from a familiar freckled shoulder to find Beau’s peaceful face. His hair was a floppy mess, his mouth parted in sleep. It made you smile.

His arm was heavy around your waist. It was nice, but you contemplated how you were going to get over to the bathroom and freshen up; maybe fix your hair, brush your teeth, put a little makeup on…

You were careful in how you grasped his hand. You were about to try and peel his arm off without waking him.

“If my alarm hasn’t gone off, means it ain’t morning yet,” Beau rumbled with his eyes still closed.

You stifled a laugh, but you tried again to pull his arm away. He held you to him tighter.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he asked. His southern drawl was thicker when he was sleepy.

You giggled lightly and rested back against his bare chest in defeat.

“Was gonna try and fix myself up a little, before you saw me in the raw light of day,” you confessed.

You’d caught a glimpse of the yellowing bruise on your cheek last night in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. You weren’t really sure how Beau could see past it.

But at your words, Beau finally cracked his eyes open. He made a show of glancing up and down your body, clad in just your black silk camisole. He couldn’t see the rest of you under the blankets, but what he did see, he liked quite a lot—aside from the parts of you that were still healing.  

“You look just right to me,” he remarked, tugging at a strand of your wild, likely knotted hair. “Damn beautiful too.”

Your smile of amusement grew, along with your blush. 

“Flatterer,” you accused. Though you rolled off his arm, fearing you were cutting off his circulation. You moved onto his chest instead, where he held you by your waist and you rested your head over his steady-beating heart.

“Nope. That’s the truth, darlin’,” he said, with a deep sigh. You didn’t see the way his eyes closed in contentment. He knew he’d have to get back into work today, not to mention check on Emily and Carla. For now though, he could focus on this. On you.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. It was a mere whisper against his skin, but he heard you just fine. It was a good question.

“Eggs or pancakes?” he posed.

You smiled, but you shoved at his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” you said wryly.

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

Two weeks later, you returned to the precinct with another basket, this one full of snickerdoodle cookies for the whole squad. Poppernak was especially excited when you handed them over to him.

Beau must’ve heard your voice, because he came out of his office to greet you with a broad smile.

“Well, hey there,” he said. You went to him with a smile of your own, but you waited until he’d led you into his office by the small of your back.

Once he shut the door behind him, he pulled you close by the waist and greeted you with a proper kiss. You didn’t even mind the scratch of his beard against your chin. You just caressed his cheek and met him with as much as he gave.

But all too soon, the kiss dimmed to embers, your lips parting softly from his. He thumbed at your cheek.

“To what do I owe this little visit?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” you said. He sat on the edge of his desk, and you followed him, standing between his legs. His hand stayed comfortable on your hip. You toyed with the top button near his collar.

“Fall semester is starting up in a couple of weeks. I don’t have too much of the summer left,” you said. “I’m trying to be ready but…I don’t know.”

You were a bit nervous about it. After the ordeal of this past month, you’d started seeing a therapist to work through some of that trauma. Sometimes you had nightmares, found it hard to focus on things during the day. You worried that it would affect your work once your classes started up.

Beau knew what that thinly veiled worry in your eyes meant; you’d confided in him after your first therapy session a few days ago. He had been supportive, and even somewhat open to your suggestion that he see a professional himself, for the things he still held deep inside.

“The rocky summer’s almost over,” he encouraged, squeezing your hip. “You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

You thanked him with a smile, though your fingers became more gripping on his shirt.

“There is something else that’s kinda bothering me,” you said.

Beau grabbed your hand and held it. “What’s that?”

You leveled him with a knowing look.

“I’m just curious on what we’re doing exactly,” you said. “Considering you still haven’t asked me out ‘officially official.’”

Beau’s lips pressed together with a guilty sort of smile.

“Okay, yes, I’ve been working on that,” he said. 

You laughed incredulously. “What’s to work on? It’s a simple question. I promise you, I have a simple answer.”

“But it’s not quite that simple,” he said. That made you pause, along with the sobered look on his face. You slipped your hand out of his and crossed your arms.

“What do you mean, Beau?” you asked.

He grasped your arms gently and let out a deep breath.

“Okay. I just talked with Carla last night,” he said.

It wasn’t a great way to kick things off if he wanted to reassure you. He seemed to know that, and so he spoke quickly.

“After everything that’s happened, she’s thinking of selling the house and taking Emily back to Houston,” he said.

Your face fell with shock. You laid a hand on his chest; to steady him or yourself, you didn’t know which.

“Oh wow,” you uttered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He dragged a hand over his mouth. You had a feeling this news had been keeping him up at night.

But, you had to voice a thought that began to make your stomach churn with unease.

“Are you…would you move back too?” you asked.

Beau met your gaze with a conflicted one of his own.

“Besides the fact that I got a lot of ghosts in Houston, there are important reasons why I should stay. Why I want to stay,” he said. He picked up your hand again and held it with both of his. “But I also want and need to be there for my daughter.”

You nodded, even as tears burned in your eyes. You knew how hard this time was for Emily right now. What she needed was stability. She needed her father.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Beau admitted.

It was hard, but you breathed through your upset and tried to reign in your tears. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand back.

“You know what I want,” you said, “but you need to do what you think is best. Both for Emily, and for yourself.”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” he said.

You shook your head. “It might not be, but that’s where we are.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, until Beau propped a finger under your chin, guiding your face back up to his. He gave you a kiss that was supposed to be sweet, and comforting.

He only succeeded for the moment.

“Oh God, it’s like I don’t even know you!” you exclaimed. Though you were still laughing.

Beau raised a finger in protest. “Hey, I stand by pineapple on pizza—”

“Alone, Dad. You stand alone,” Emily said. She had a recorder app going on her phone, placed between the three of you in your living room. This marked Episode 1 of her podcast, and already it was going off the rails.

“It ain’t that bad. That’s all I’m saying,” he laughed, holding up placating hands. “Pizza is pizza.”

“Said the human garbage disposal,” you smirked. “Where do you put that one, in your second or third stomach?”

“Nah, the fourth one,” he said, patting said stomach. “It’s got the most room. Very handy at a buffet. Or at Donno’s diner when he puts out the weekly specials.”

You laughed. Beau grinned. Emily made a face of disgust.

“Okay, gross,” she said. “Moving on to the next question.”

“How many you got there anyway?” Beau asked, reaching for the piece of paper she’d printed off with all of these “Questions for Couples.” He’d caught sight of a few spicy ones on there that he’d rather not be asked by his daughter, let alone put on record.

Emily snatched the paper away before he could take it from her.

“Okay, next. What’s the first thing you noticed about each other when you met?” she read off.

You and Beau glanced at each other with curious smiles. That was something neither of you had talked about just yet.

“How about for you?” Emily directed her question at you first. You blinked wider eyes.

“Oh! Um…” you trailed. Beau crossed his arms, adopting a sly, expectant smile. You bit your lip to avoid laughing in embarrassment.

“Okay, well, as you know, we met on that camping trip. If I remember right, I saw him from behind first,” you recalled.

“Liked what you saw, huh?” he teased. You laughed and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

“I noticed how tall he was. I wondered if a mountain man was coming to join us,” you quipped. Beau’s smile kicked up a notch. “But it wasn’t until he turned around, and I saw his handsome face…for me, it was his eyes.”

You were a bit bashful to admit that, but when you looked over at Beau, said handsome face had softened a touch. His hand snuck behind you to settle at the curve of your waist, stroking a thumb along your back.

“And for you, Dad?” Emily asked.

You shot him an expectant look. Beau cleared his throat, looking between his daughter and back to you. Then his smile returned.

“Well, I noticed right off the bat that she was beautiful, of course.”

“Good answer,” Emily nodded, laughing a little. You couldn’t help blushing.

Beau slipped his hand off your waist to come up and brush your cheek instead.

“For me though, it was her smile that did me in,” he said. “She looked up at me, and I uh…yeah. That got me. Was thinking about her for a while after Cassie and I left the camp.”

With that admission, you found yourself melting further. You looked down at your folded hands in your lap, trying to save face, but Beau wouldn’t have it. He took one of your hands in his, brought it up to his lips, and pressed a kiss over your knuckles, making your face warm up further.

Emily watched you both in amusement. She smirked at the next question listed on the page.

“Okay, who pays on dates? Is it Dad every time?” she asked.

Your expression turned dry as you glanced at Beau.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, considering we haven’t been on a real date yet,” you remarked. 

Beau gave a tight smile.

“All right,” he said. “Next question, please.”

A couple of days later, you crossed paths with Carla by chance while you were getting office supplies. She was getting moving boxes. There was a stack of them in her cart.

After exchanging some painful small talk, you heeded a gut instinct that had you offering to buy her lunch. So the two of you went to a café in the same plaza, where you each had a sandwich and fries.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Carla smiled, taking another fry. “You mean can you ask me something uncomfortable?”

You stifled an awkward laugh. She really was a good lawyer.

“Yeah, that,” you said.

“Sure,” she replied.

You stared back at her for a moment, steeling yourself. You both knew what this was about to be. It was a conversation weeks in the making, but it didn’t make it any easier to begin.

You decided to peel off the Band-Aid.

“Do you still love him?” you asked. You knew you didn’t have to specify whom. Carla sighed and set down her iced tea.

“In a way,” she replied. “I’ll always care about Beau, and I want him to be happy, I do. This has all just been…too much.”

“I understand that,” you said.  

Carla hid it well, but there was pain behind her eyes as she looked away. Your heart broke for her a bit. She’d barely been remarried a year before this hellish summer uprooted her entire life.

Now she and her daughter were living in a big empty house that was meant to be for three. Carla had just finished telling you about her plans to sell it, but that also implied that she and Emily were moving.

“Part of this is my fault, I know,” said Carla. “I’m the one who married a man like Avery—”

You gently stopped her with a hand on her wrist. You met her gaze with empathy.

“What he did, and what happened after, that wasn’t your fault,” you said. “I know what it’s like to be with a man who lies.”

It took her a moment, but Carla accepted that with a slow nod. You took your hand back, and once again, you tried to gain your courage to dive into deeper waters.

“I also understand that you have to do what you feel is right for Emily, but…”

Carla met you with a more wry tilt of her head. “Let me guess. You don’t think we should leave Montana?”

Your gaze fell. “I know it’s not really my place to say—”

“And if it was?” she countered.

Your lips pressed together. Well, if she wanted to hear your opinion, then she would have it.

“Look, Carla, I was with Emily through the worst of it,” you said. “I know very well what she’s been through. But another out-of-state move when she’d just started getting acclimated, possibly separating her from her father, is that the right call?”

“You’re assuming Beau would stay. For you?” Carla asked. Her words were pointed. Sharp enough to cut you.

“I won’t lie. I don’t want to lose him…but despite his responsibilities here as Sheriff, I suspect he might leave if you asked him to. If it was for his daughter,” you said. Letting out a breath, you looked down at your folded hands on the table. “I love Emily. I want him to do what’s right for her. But selfishly, I want him to take care of himself too.”

Carla considered that, and you, with a nod.

The two of you continued sipping your iced teas for a while in silence.

When you asked for the check, the server informed you that Carla had already paid for it.

The woman gave you a parting smile before she left. You weren’t sure if she’d done it to treat you, or just to win.

That same night, Carla invited Beau over for dinner with her and Emily. It was pizza Friday, like they used to do as a family.

It was familiar, but different now.

They all were different.

Carla asked them to join her in the living room afterwards, with Emily sitting in a lounge chair while her parents sat on the couch. Beau wasn’t sure what Carla was up to, but he was going along with it.

She took in a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap, and focused on her daughter.

“Em, I need to ask you something.”

The girl looked confused, and a little apprehensive at this point.

“O-kay…”

“I know this past month has been…hard for all of us,” said Carla. “Especially for you, sweetheart.”

She took Emily’s hand.

“You know I think it’s best that we go back to Houston,” said Carla. Emily dimmed at that, and her mother could see it. It pained Carla inside to come to a realization…

“But, I think maybe I made that decision for me, not for you,” she said. She had to blink back the sting of tears. “So, what I’m asking is, do you want to go…or do you want to stay here in Montana?”

Beau glanced over at his ex-wife in surprise. He’d never known Carla to change her mind on anything. But now, now he had hope.

He tried not to show any of that to his daughter though. This was up to her now, and he would support whatever she said next.

“R-Really? I get to choose?” Emily asked. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked between her parents. 

Carla nodded, attempting a smile through her own tears. “Yes. I, and I’m sure your father, want to do what’s best for you here. What do you want to do?”

Emily considered the question. Yeah, she missed her friends back at school in Houston. They still texted and kept in touch through social media all the time, but she knew it wasn’t the same.

She hadn’t been happy about moving to Montana at first…but after meeting Cassie and Denise, helping them with their cases—it made Emily feel like she was doing work that mattered. That something she did really, truly mattered, and would help people. That was a cool feeling.

Also, she’d met you. She’d begun to find a kind of older sister in you. Someone who encouraged her projects and her creative side without thinking it was too weird, or too annoying. And of course, she could see what you meant to her dad now.

Besides all that though, she just had this gut feeling. Like going back to Houston would be like going backwards.

Emily’s lower lip wobbled. She tried to stop it, but her emotions bubbled over.

“I like it here,” she admitted. “I…I want to stay.”

Beau welcomed his daughter over into a warm hug between them on the couch. Carla rubbed her back and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we’ll do that.”

They stayed like that for a while. Until eventually, the teen wanted to go back to editing her podcast. She was getting a hang of the editing software, and she wanted to post it online by the end of the week.

“Okay, but I want to hear the final cut before that gets released into cyberspace,” Beau called after her when she ran off into her room.

Carla shook her head and wiped her face dry.

“I still can’t believe you let her record you,” she said with a laugh.

“You and me both,” Beau admitted. If you hadn’t cajoled him into it, he probably wouldn’t have.

And the thought of you had him smiling to himself, more warmly. He’d couldn’t wait to call you…but no, this was something he should tell you in person. He turned to Carla.

“You’re sure about this? About staying?” he asked.

She nodded with a sigh. “We’ll just downsize to a smaller house. Though I will need you to keep sharing more of the custody responsibilities with Emily, presuming you’re able to get out of that trailer of yours.”

Beau wanted to argue that there was nothing wrong with his trailer (sure, it was a bit small. They’d been managing just fine). But as to not look a gift horse-in-the-mouth, all he did was nod in agreement.

“I’ll work on that,” he said.

“Thank you. Beau, I’m grateful for you,” Carla said. Her eyes were honest. “You gave me our daughter. And I’m glad you’ve gotten better, that you’ve been able to work through some of your issues. I think your girlfriend has had something to do with that.”

A smile quirked at Beau’s lips, and he nodded.

“That she has,” he said.

After his shift the following day, Beau met you at the end of your painting lesson at the local art studio. Everyone was starting to pack up their painting supplies. He managed to come up from behind and surprise you.

He tapped you on one shoulder, but appeared on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He laughed in light of your gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied. “Good timing! I just finished.”

While you gathered up your supplies, Beau admired your latest painting that was still drying on the canvas. He whistled lowly.

It was a landscape of Mount Helena. There was mist near its mountain peaks, and dense trees at its base, and wide plains of green, dotted by a couple of horses ranging free.

You swiveled toward him in your chair and looked up at him with a smile. The same one that caught his eye when he met you.

“After everything, everything, I don’t regret coming here,” you said. Your voice shook a little, and your eyes shone with emotion. You stood from your seat and slipped your hand into his. “This is still the place where I got the courage to start over. And it’s where I met you.”

Beau’s face softened.

“So no matter what you decide to do,” you said, “I won’t ever regret knowing you, Beau Arlen.”

His own smile crinkled the corners of his eyes then. He swept a gentle thumb across your cheek.

“I came to tell you that Carla and Emily are staying in Montana,” he said. “So am I.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. Your tears bubbled over and fell, but his hands were there to catch them, framing your face.

“But aside from all that,” he said, with a note of humor gleaming in his eyes. “I’d really, really, like to ask you out to dinner tonight. Call it ‘officially official.’”

You laughed and smiled so bright. You nodded and let him pull you into a warm embrace. He just surprised you by hefting you into his arms next. You yelped and clung to his shoulders.

Your art instructor, as well as a couple of lesson goers remaining in the studio, clapped and whooped and laughed at the way he started carrying you towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, go back! My stuff!” you said, gesturing at your workstation.

Beau graciously backed up so you could grab your bag of paint supplies and your canvas from the easel. It was a little awkward, but you both laughed as he tried to angle you out the door of the studio. He started walking you down the sidewalk.

“Where’re you taking me? My car’s that way,” you pointed in the opposite direction.

“I believe I asked you to dinner,” said Beau, with a teasing grin. “I don’t wanna waste no time.”

You wanted to point out that your hands were stained with paint, and you weren’t dressed for a date in your jeans and plain sweater, and this wasn’t exactly what you meant by asking you out…but maybe you didn’t need a “color-coded list” for everything.

Maybe you could let yourself be a little spontaneous for once.

“Okay, Beau,” you breathed a laugh, and rested your head on his shoulder. “Take me wherever you want.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said slyly. He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got plans for you.”

When he reached the passenger side of his truck, he set you down on your feet. He unlocked it and held the door open while you set down your things. You pivoted on your heel and grabbed the front of his shirt, so you could pull him down to you for a kiss.

He tasted like the promise of good days to come.

AN: And there we have it, friends. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed the ride on this series. I've had so much fun exploring Beau and this version of him and the reader. I hope you'll let me know what you think of the finale here. 💓

But, their story's not quite over yet.

Read the Sequel: A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

▶️ Keep Reading: A Good Man Is Hard to Find

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