#Lady tarot reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junkissed · 8 months ago

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ocean view

member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!

they say time flies when you’re having fun.

it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.

but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.

what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.

the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.

you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.

“next round is on me!”

all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.

you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.

you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.

the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.

it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.

it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain.

"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”

“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”

“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.

"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”

he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."

"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.

he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”

it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.

"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”

your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”

"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"

she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."

jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”

she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.

her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”

she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”

“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”

jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.

she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”

she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”

she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”

you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.

“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”

immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?

"hey, wait, so what does—”

you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.

"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.

"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"

you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"

jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand.

with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.

after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore.

"well…” jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."

"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"

he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"

you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.”

it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.

the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.

his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.

he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.

jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.

he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.

his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.

he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.

your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.

he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin.

you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.

the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.

you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.

his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.

despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body.

but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.

jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.

he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.

his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.

you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily.

after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.

you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.

his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair.

his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.

he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.

you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.

after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.

you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.

his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.

“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.

now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.

his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.

he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.

“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.

the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.

you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.

“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.

you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.

his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.

you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.

but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.

after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.

he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.

his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.

he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.

“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.

the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”

everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.

“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.

jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.

he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.

the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.

he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.

he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.

“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.

you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”

you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh.

you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.

you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.

instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.

you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.

“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”

you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.

jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.

you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.

jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.

there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.

after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.

“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.

but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.

he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.

and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.

it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.

“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.

“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob.

he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.

the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.

“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”

you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”

“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”

“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”

a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”

you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”

“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”

you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”

“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”

“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.

jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.

he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.

he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.

and then he sees you.

not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.

he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.

the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.

he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.

“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”

“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”

“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.

mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”

“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.

the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.

mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”

“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.

you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again.

you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.

you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.

“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.

your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.

you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.

he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”

you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.

finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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mandy-asimp · 23 days ago

Text

Cards and Clay

Lilia Calderu x Potter! Reader

Summary: you move into town and start a new pottery place, you bring in much business and are pleased with your tiny living. Or so you think that's what's happening.

Warnings: language, smut (leaving this simple so you get the surprise), teasing, pet names, lemme know if I missed anything?

A/n ~ bye chat this is lengthy. I mean it. I was being honest when I said I love plot procrastination to the smut. But shiii I got it done🙂‍↕️

You just finished your first full week of your own pottery shop. It was honestly becoming a dream come true. You rented one of the newer apartments about ten minutes down the road, which was when you could tell the whole area was in need of renovations. Yet, with enough media promotion and the help of your friends, you managed to put a name on the map.

The weekend was ahead, and it would be busy for the Saturday lessons you offered. They would begin around eleven, giving you plenty of time to sleep in and even set up.

You were basically done cleaning up, the last thing was to rotate everything in the kiln. Which would've been completed, until the bell at the front door rang. "Oh! Sorry, we're closed!" You had called from the back, wiping the pottery off your hands onto the apron. By the door stood a curious-looking lady. Her hair pinned up and the curls fell down freely, some framing her face. Her eyes. Those were the next thing you had taken in. They were big, brown, and full of adventures you were for sure of it. They dropped against your body and you found yourself standing straighter and at attention.

"Can I help you?" You gave her your sweetest customer service voice possible. Hands coming to clasp in front of you and your head tilted. A few stray hairs falling with.

"I wanted to come see what was dragging in the business. Just not during it being an open business." She flashed you a softer smile, one that you could let your guard down to just a bit.

So you did, your shoulders had visibly relaxed and your chest didn't feel as tight. "Oh! Well it's just me and a dream here." You chuckled, a hand at the back of your neck. "I live in the apartment right down the street as well so I'm practically always here."

"I'm in the tarot shop across the street, so I know what you mean. This is cute, a nice addition I'd say." She hummed out, eyes roaming the space once more with a finger wagging in the air. You lightly laughed and held out your hand, giving her your name with a welcoming smile. "Lilia Calderu, how did someone like you get here anyways?"

"Like I said, me and a dream here. I went to college for a business degree, learned how to run a company, minored with an art degree. Work in between all that. All because I had a dream and gave my trust to the universe and here I am. My dream come true." You rambled a bit about yourself, knowing you could go deeper into all of it. But it was the simple version of your life.

Lilia enjoyed the way you spoke so passionately about something. She had forgotten how pure some people could still be within this grueling world. "It's nice to know some people still dream."

"Saying you don't dream?" You raised a challenging brow and crossed your arms. "You don't have something that keeps you going everyday even though the world sucks?"

"You sound so generic," she scoffed with a sly smirk. "I'm long past the dreaming age anyways. I've gotten content with my solo life. But you keep dreaming. I should get going though, it was nice meeting you."

You nodded slightly and watched her go. Standing like a mannequin until she opened her shops door. Once she was inside, you sighed happily and got back to work.

As for Lilia, her night concluded with her fiddling with cards as you seemed to run around in her mind. She felt silly if she used the cards in such a childish manner. Even when she groaned and placed the deck back down to the table. What was it about you?

A few weeks had rolled by and you had began a steady pace with work. Along with building deeper relationships with your students. A particular group you enjoyed was with Agatha, Alice, and Billy. They always knew something about someone.

You once asked them about Lilia, silently curious about the woman across the way. "She's been here ever since I could remember." Agatha started the talk. "She lives alone over there. In the back of her shop."

"She's gay. I can tell you that as well. There's no way she isn't." Billy pitched in. The fact earned him a silence and stares. "I went over there once for a reading. She's one weird, but sweet lady really."

You eyed Alice, she sat silently while working with her clay. "You got anything to add Alice? Anything I should be aware of?" You brushed your hair off your nose, getting a little bit of clay on your cheek.

"She's a quiet lady. I've never had trouble with her." Her eyes were focused to the spinning wheel, like she physically couldn't meet your gaze.

"Alice slept with her." Agatha snorted. Inflicting a heavy blush to the other as her head shot up and she began to deny the accusation.

You and Billy were left to witness the debate while trying not to holler with laughter. "It's ok anyways! Everyone's got their own thing. Whether you did or didn't, she seems nice. Except her shop is always dead. She gets maybe one or two customers if she's lucky?"

"Watching your new crush?" Agatha finally turned to tease you. Wiggling her brows and making kissy faces at you.

Your head shook and a smile was there, "hardly could say I have a crush. She an old lady who lives by herself, so what if my mind can't help to wonder if she's lonely. Anyone would. I just hope nothing bad happens." You finalized, pouring the rest of your focus into the yarn bowl you were attempting.

It wasn't until closing again that Lilia became your minds only focus. You were already set on grabbing take-out before heading home, and suddenly found yourself at her shops door knocking against the glass.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you waited. Maybe she was asleep, or busy...or maybe even out..wherever she was you thought up a million conclusions until the door opened. Lilia stared up to you with furrowed brows.

Your name fell from her lips in a whisper, "What are you doing here?" She searched briefly over your person to find an answer. Her posture had seemed like she had been caught of something.

"I couldn't help but wonder, if you'd care to join me for dinner? It's usually what I grab on my way home on Fridays and I figured since you hadn't left yours for a while maybe it'd be nice for a change?" You were wincing at your own words. It was a brave invite alone, and you didn't anticipate how effective her being this close to you would be.

Lilia stood in much looser clothing. Patchy pants that were a variety of dulled colors, it fit with the silky cover up that draped her shoulders. Her shirt was the darkest piece, the neck line dropping enough to expose her chest. And her hair was up in a messy ponytail again.

"How sweet of you, but I've already had my dinner. Maybe next time though doll, I'm sure you're amazing company." She bid you a goodbye and the door was closed again.

But for the next three weeks, she continued to decline your offer. Simply, the fourth week you left her with little choice. You knocked against her door and patiently waited like normal. Only this time when the door opened, you didn't wait for pleasantries.

"This is the fourth week. I would invite you, but I know you'll say no. And I know you haven't actually eaten because your house doesn't smell like cooking, not even thirty minutes before. One dinner and if I'm really that bad, I will never bother you again." You held the door from closing with your foot against the frame. "We can have it here and everything."

Lilia eyed you for a moment. You really were persistent with getting to know her. So..she sighed and opened the door further. Slightly grinning as you squealed before rushing in. The smell of good take-out wafting into the air.

Your body buzzed with excitement as you began to set everything on the table as she grabbed plates and glasses for each of you. Even as you finally sat across from her, you couldn't help the beaming smile that touched your eyes.

"You really wanted to have dinner with me?" She chuckled, being the first to start plating food. You eyed her wised hands before following suit.

Your head nodded, "a woman like you is alluring. I bet you have stories to be told and nobody knows them. I wanna know all of them." You missed her hesitation as she really eyed you now. Too busy putting noodles onto your plate.

"Well I do have a few. But what are they to you? Don't you know other people who can give you better stories?" She raised, knowing you had built connections with many people through your art. How deep you could take someone with a piece of clay and a conversation.

Your head bobbed in agreement, "I mean yeah I guess, but at the same time I've failed at many connections. Pottery is selective just like tarot is. I've heard the art stories and so on, but I haven't heard yours yet. So, what crazy adventures has Lilia Calderu been on?"

That night she had told you a variety of stories. The funny ones, the ones that put you on the edge of your seat and make you wonder how she managed, ones that were sad, all of them. As many as she could because finally, someone wanted to pay attention to her and hear everything she's accomplished.

The lingering fear of being forgotten soon seemed to cower into a corner with you around. She liked it. She liked this feeling of freeness. She liked not being alone suddenly. Even as her big doey eyes watched your cheeks burn pink from laughing so hard, she couldn't get enough of it.

"My my, Lilia!" You huffed down your giggles. "I knew I wanted to know your stories for a reason! You are a woman of many lives." You leaned against your hand as you stared at her. "I wish I could've lived that all with you, sounds so much better than an average k-12 childhood."

"You're telling me, the one with the pottery shop, was average? You made your dreams come true, didn't you?" It was her turn to shine the spotlight.

"Nothing special about me. Ran around as a kid. Hid in the closet once I figured out what it was. Came out, got told it was just a phase. And then I kept quiet mostly till I got to college. Explored, studied, graduated, job, dream job. That's basically it." You sighed, taking a sip of water.

"Mm, I never labeled myself. That's the thing with the younger generations, so desperate for a label." She rolled her eyes, then suddenly they were on you with a small challenge behind them.

"Sometimes a label makes them feel validated. Gives worth to something. Haven't you ever wanted a title?" You quirked a brow to her, her move.

"It's sad you need a title to have worth," she shot.

"Says Madame Calderu?" You dodged and returned fire, only not missing.

Lilia sighed and put her hands up in surrender. Chuckling out a "you got me" before crossing her arms again. "This was nice, thank you."

"Well it only took four weeks of perusing, but I think it was well worth it....why exactly did it take four week?" Your tone curved the outcome of the night unbeknownst to you.

"I had eaten those three other weeks. You caught me when I was behind on schedule." She attempted to turn down the topic nicely. She really had no excuse except she thought you were taking pity on her. Now she could see that that wasn't true.

"Ok and I own the Mona Lisa." You mocked, earning a kick under the table. It made your eyebrows furrow quickly. "What? Can I not call out bullshit when I hear it? If you're gonna lie at least lie to me better." Another kick. "Alright! Geez lady, gonna leave me all bruised."

"Good, maybe it'll teach you some manners." She cocked her head briefly. You laughed, throwing your head back with a wide smile.

Continuing as you started cleaning up the table. "I'll have you know my mother raised a well mannered woman! I graduated the nicest in class, so I speak for myself."

Lilia stood and grabbed at the plates, her hip bumping yours. "Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night."

You shook your head while putting the empty containers into the plastic bag. "I tell myself a lot of positive things before bed. Tonight it'll be complimenting myself for finally getting dinner with you." You turned to her with a cocky gleam.

The woman just squinted her eyes and sighed out. "You're an interesting one, ya know that? That average Joe crap doesn't suit you at all."

This time you let out a snort, a hand covering your mouth and nose instantly. "You're making me blush, Lilia! But truly, if I can figure out what interesting thing you see, I'll cut the Joe out."

"Anything named Joe should be cut out. Especially the men named Joe." She rambled only slightly. You hummed in agreement anyways, trying to stay serious with her. "I knew a Joe once, he was nothing good. Just caused me problems on problems. Had to bail him out twice before deciding enough was enough."

You smirked, "does that mean I can call you next time I'm in trouble?"

"As if you would get in trouble. You're a good girl there's no doubt about it. Matter of fact, I know why you really came." She lead you towards the small lounge area. Sitting in the chair facing the window and melting into the cushions. Missing the subtle pink on your face.

You sat across in the other chair, your back to the shinning moon. Although you got to see how the moon reflected against her. Highlighting the silver in her curls. "And what did I really come here for?"

"You've learned of something and you want to help me. But I can reassure you I'm fine. I will keep moving and settle somewhere else." She eyed you curiously, watching as your mouth opened and closed. You were caught. "I appreciate the thought though. It's nice to know someone's not forgotten me."

Your brows furrowed and you frowned. "Lilia you do know living is impossible in this day and age. I'm 35 and just moved out my parent's basement. Where are you really going to go? Not saying I doubt you or anything," you already knew where you were taking this entire conversation.

"I've managed my life this much. I can manage a few more years." She shrugged it down to a mere distraction. Only for it to eat an annoyed groan from across the way.

"You so have no plan and you're accepting that! That is like the worse plan of hoping things work out I've ever heard!" You couldn't help the need to express your opinion suddenly. Even though she had never even asked or told you for sure she was getting evicted. "What happened if you don't find anything? You're just gonna be homeless?"

She knew her circumstances weren't the greatest, but what was she really to do? "I'm sure I'll find something, worst case is an old people home. Don't worry so much about me, baby."

You couldn't help it though. Ever since she introduced herself to you, you couldn't help but worry about her. "I can't help it. You're here just alone 24/7. I hardly see you leave to even get groceries."

"You pay too much attention to my life then," she chuckled. You could tell it was in attempt to change the topic to something, anything else.

"Lilia. I'm serious." Your features rested as your eyes held all your emotions.

She stared at you for a long second. Just staring. The dark chocolate swirls of her eyes werwarmer than ever before in the moonlight. "What would you like me to do then?" She wasn't giving you any sass, it was her genuinely asking you.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on your thighs and you thought. Trying to think of anything you could possibly do to help her. It looked more like you were studying her carpet than thinking....your study. It was a spare bedroom, surely big enough for her. It's not even in the works, still a board of inspiration on Pinterest. She could come live with you. You make enough to cover and with the extra money you still have left over.

Lilia watched as it clicked into place for you. Seeing the glimmer of hope find its way to your eyes highlight. "I have an extra room." You began, raising a finger as she was about to speak. Her eyes widen, "you honestly have no room to argue. No rent, nothing. But in request you help at the shop sometimes?"

She sat silent, just hard staring you."You drive a hard bargain, you know that? You must do this often if you're this good at it." Lilia caved with a huff. You made a strong point anyways. "But you forget, the clay is all your thing."

Your smile was back, "I'll teach you! I'm closed on Sunday's, so it'll be the perfect day to introduce you to the shop and all the things you'll need to know. I won't make you do anything too hard, I promise." your hand extended over the coffee table. "Do I have a deal?"

Her eyes dropped to your hand, she took it with hers. "Fine, you have yourself a deal."

But you didn't really expect the outcome of the deal after a few months of it. You learned of Lilia's habits at home quickly. Like how she's very neat, but also loves a little bit of clutter. For example the tv stand is lined with her crystals and other tarot decks. She kept a specific one on the coffee table however, perfectly stacked and only she touched it.

Although, you couldn't help yourself one night. She had already gone off to bed and you had to do the order before you forgot. Your hands were delicate with them, scared that one touch would make the paper incinerate right before you.

They were what you assumed average. That was until you pulled your flashlight out to really look at the art work and paint. Each card was hand painted and sealed, the gold 'L.C' in the corner of them told you exactly who did it as well. She hand made her deck and just left them lying about like they were everyday cards.

It gave you the perfect idea for a birthday gift for her, seeing as the day was already a few days away. The topic of gifts hadn't come up at all, even when you did try and bring it up, she gave you practically nothing. Yet now you analyzed her personal cards and had to make a matching holder for them.

Your nights at the shop had begun to drag till almost eleven as you hunched over the dried holder. Painting details that matched to the cards, wiping them off after concluding they weren't perfect, only to repaint them. It was like this for almost two weeks. It was two weeks you hardly saw your roommate or even asked her to come in.

The Friday leading to her birthday, was the first time you'd been home at a reasonable time. Not that ten was any better, but when you unlocked the door and got in, Lilia was waiting with a wine glass in her hand.

"Look who's finally home." She was sarcastic about it. Like she was upset that this was another late night with no text, call, or explanation. "Two weeks and this is the first time I'm seeing you."

"You miss me?" The joke rolled from your tired tongue. You trudged to your room, placing your bag down and ridding of your day clothes into a black long sleeve and red plaid boxers. "I'm sorry, the shop has been really busy with the schools on break. Everyone's doing homemade gifts in class and then there's just the everyday pieces. I plan to have everything fired and ready for pick up tomorrow, then I'm closed for like three days."

"So you've been busy, I could've come to help. It is the deal." She got up to pour you a glass, except you just grabbed hers and took a sip. Her brown eyes stalked you talking a sip.

Your face contorted and you waved her back down. Getting up to get your own juice and pouring it into a matching glass. "It wasn't anything I couldn't have handled. Plus a lot of it was kiln work, I didn't teach you anything about Kit."

"Kit? Who's Kit?" Her brows furrowed as she took another sip. You both sat on the couch, you turned to stare at her fully with both legs crossed, while she had one leg bent and leaned against her fist to face you.

"The kiln. He's honestly the only man I would ever allow into my life. Except it seems that people don't take kindly to a kiln being picked over them." You bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged. Really not hearing the issue even as Lilia laughed at you.

"You don't understand how a big oven being picked would offend someone? You do know what you look like and your personality right?" She raised that perfect brows. You loved when she looked at you like this, you knew it meant she was teasing you and meaning it with humor.

"I could look and act like anyone," you tilted the glass at her. "I don't know, maybe I like me and my ceramics. They can never really break my heart. It's easier to trust the Earths natural gifts than an unpredictable human with my heart."

"That's playing it safe, baby." She spoke so softly. Yet every word dug into your brain to the core. Lilia downed her glass and stood up, "I'm turning in for the night. Do you need any help at the shop with all the pickups?"

You knew you brought home hers, so she had no chance of seeing it early. "That'd be really nice, thank you. Have a goodnight, Lilia." You stayed on the couch as she headed for her door. Ignoring (attempting to) how sudden the couch felt without her.

The next morning you were up and making Lilia's favorite breakfast. Well...maybe not her favorite, she never outright said it. A lot of things you know of her are honestly from the context of her stories. It was working though, you always seemed to know your way with her.

"You're up early?" Her voice echoed into the kitchen space. She stood in her silk pajamas. They were yellow stripes but they suited her. "Cooking as well?"

"It's a thank you for helping me since it'll be busy today." You spun around, finding her leaning against the counter and staring at you. Yet, you couldn't figure out how she was staring. It was a look you've never seen before from her. "If you're too tired you don't have to."

"No, no...nothing like that. What are you making? Or attempting to make?" She brushed it off and was switching her stare to something more teasing and delightful.

Your nose scrunched up, "I'll have you know a wise woman once said she enjoyed my cooking in the morning. But if you must, it's French toast with cinnamon and strawberry frosting. Served cutely with a cup of coffee."

"Now you're spoiling me. Is it really gonna be that busy?" Lilia watched you plate the breakfast and serve her first. Giving her a show of garnishing. "You should hope you're wrong."

You smirked, knowing you weren't wrong. "And if I am, then this'll have been me spoiling you because I'm sorry I've been out late with no word." You hummed before turning to start your own breakfast. "It'll be nice anyways. Billy's been asking about you recently so he'll be excited to see you. So will Agatha, she doesn't verbally show her liking for people but it's in her actions and expressions sometimes. And her pottery, she really pours her emotions out. Alice also enjoys your company, she said you and Jen, that's her roommate though we all know they're together, would be good friends." You were rambling on about everyone suddenly. Telling her about everyone and how much they always ask about her. It carried you through the entire breakfast.

Lilia was left speechless. She didn't realize that many people knew about her and asked. Nor the fact you were the one they were always asking and you always had an answer. "Now you're just trying to flatter me."

"No! Really! When you come in they're gonna love seeing you! We should start getting ready though, I have a class starting earlier today and running later." You collected the plates and put them in the sink. Slipping away without another word to get into pottery clothes.

With the weather getting nicer you had settled for a light yellow long sleeve and a pair of art overalls. You had painted flowers from the splatters from projects. Slipping on your old boots and grabbing your bag. Leaving your hair in the messy clip you did this morning.

As you closed your door, Lilia's closed in time with you. Your head snapped around to her in a flowing skirt and a sweater filled with colors. Her curls were free, falling graciously down her back and you suddenly felt your heart stop. Your hand was at your chest, and you just played it to dusting your shoulder.

You hadn't said anything after seeing her then. Staying silent and scolding yourself to not gawk and drool over her. No matter how badly you could imagine your hands tangled in her peppered mane, along with the many reasons why. Your cheeks must've flushed cause Lilia was staring at you now worried.

You were in the middle of moving the paints and everything to the circle table in the sunlight. But you had stopped and were just staring out the window. Blushing from your own lucid thoughts.

"Your cheeks are warm and pink," her voice cut through. Her soft hands were on your cheeks before you had noticed, holding them for only a moment. Lilia glowed in the sun light. Just like she did in the moonlight. She was earthal. Universally beautiful. Day and night, never did she falter. A timeless beauty.

"I'm..I'm good. I just..don't worry." You managed out finally. It felt like the air was being vacuumed out your lungs. Your chest was beginning to feel tight. Is this what dying is? An angel to hold you while it all just goes warm and tingly? Or is this what love felt like? Were they the same thing?

Saved when Billy was soon the first to show up. You must be behind already. You're too distracted today. Asking yourself by what was a foolish move, you just couldn't grasp the reality of the cause.

"Oh Lilia! It's good to see you again! We've missed you around here." He greeted the lady with a hug before coming to settle at the table. "You should join our class for today, we're making a tea set this time. And since you guys live together you could divvy up the work."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to impose. I'm just here to help hand out the finished pieces." She waved a dismissive hand, much to your dismay. Even when she caught the sad glint take root in your eye, she stood by the front desk.

"I'm sure with a good towel and teamwork, you both could manage. Join us just for the day." The teen was persistent as he tied the apron around his body. "Come learn the juicy gossip this one spills in the circles."

"I do not spill any gossip! If anything it's Agatha who tells the most," you defended your name. A finger raised in the air, "and besides, I don't live a life to have anything!"

"Oh that's such a lie," Agatha had waltzed in. Her hair already pinned back and instantly found her seat at the table. "Just last week you had a fresher scoop on Dotti and her husband before I did. And I'm their neighbor!"

Lilia looked shocked to hear this, her eyes wide as they stared at you. "And what do you know about Dotti and her husband?" She challenged you.

And suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped. "Ok so, there's an update to them as well, from like yesterday morning. So to fill you in," you slowly sat down at your wheel.

Alice came in last finally, "we're already gossiping? I knew I was running late but not this late." She filled the empty wheel to your right. Making haste to get situated and get right in.

"We just started. We're starting with Dotti." You wiggled your brows.

"Oh! Did you hear about yesterday morning?!" You nodded your head. "Oh I heard the actual end of it, it sounded good so I'm ready." Alice sat, hands at the ready.

Your hands grabbed at the clay from the center, everyone following. "So I heard that he had forgotten their anniversary....again." You got lost in telling the details, some so itty bitty they questioned if you were actually there.

Lilia, from the front, listened and paid every ounce of attention to you when not helping a customer. She noted how relaxed you were in this setting. Eyes trained to the clay that span under your fingers, shoulders dropped, smile blooming as everyone talked. Overall, you seemed so at peace. She enjoyed watching you in this state.

"Yeah, Rio said she'd join one day." Agatha had spoken when Lilia tuned back in to the full conversation and not staring at you.

"We could do a little couples pottery! Alice and Jen, Agatha and Rio, Me and Teddy!" Then he turned to you and you could only throw your head back in laughter. "It's not funny! You've lived here long enough and still haven't tried dating!"

"Oh but that's not what I've heard." Agatha was the one to eye you now. Your face reddened when you felt her gaze burn into your hair. "Rumor is you're getting home late for two weeks?"

You shook your head, "officer no! It's not what you think!" You cried humorously before agreeing though. "Yeah, I have been. I've been busy here at the shop. Someone's gotta fire everything."

"Got any witnesses to back you up? Cause it gets juicier." Agatha continued, her eyebrow sharp.

You gasped, geneuinly confused on what's being said about you. "Oh my- what have people been saying?! Do people think I'm a...whore?" You whispered the title. Devastation written all over your face.

Lilia was dying to know where this was leading. This was her answer of if you really were here all those hours or you found someone young and they just kept you out all night. Being young.

"Oh they're thinking more than that. Recently Norm has been getting home around those hours as well....I'm sure the dots connect for you just like it does for everyone else." She eyed you, everyone was. "For him it's great, they think he finally found someone. For you though, they're saying it's settling."

You were cackling at that now. "Oh my God, no! I would never settle for Norm! Never! Who even started this rumor?" You couldn't help but to see the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

Your eyes quickly, praying she wasn't already looking at you, jumped to Lilia. She was staring right at you. If you didn't tear your eyes away, you'd have spaced out but when you felt the blush sprinting up your neck you had to. It made its way to your cheeks anyways.

"I think it was Herb. He's always been close with Norm. Maybe he saw you go home late one time." She reasoned, her hands up as she finished her teapot, examining her own work. "It reminds me of Rio."

Alice chuckled, finishing her own pot as well. "Herb and Norm starting the rumor you slept with him honestly makes sense. Recently his mom and sister have been pestering him about bringing a girl around." She added.

"I don't think I've ever even talked to either of them outside this shop. This is why being the young, single, shop owner is a trap in itself. If I wasn't a young, single, shop owner they would've never even bothered. So next time you hear someone put dirt on my name, I'm going to need you to clean it for me." You pointed a finger to everyone. Making sure they really understood you were serious.

Billy huffed, "so does that mean no couples class?" He put his best puppy eyes forward. And to your surprise, Agatha and Alice had joined him in their own way.

You soaked in their pleading expressions, letting your eyes slowly wonder to the woman at the front. "Fine...Lilia will just have to be my partner for it. And she'll act like it's the worst thing she's ever done, but we all know I'm the best in town."

"Please," Lilia scoffed. "Just the other week you didn't understand why picking a kiln over a human was offensive." She handed out the last pick up for the day. Surprised that it was all gone before two. She had finally came over to see what was actually happening.

"First of all, he has a name. His name is Kit. Use it and respect it. Second, maybe people should be more understanding." You shrugged. "Alright, I say we each make at least four tea cups. They're the same as the bowls basically, but...cup shaped."

Billy waved in the air first. "No, hold on. We are not skipping that. I've first hand seen Rio try to flirt with Agatha when she's pissed off, but that takes the title for most embarrassing."

Your jaw dropped with a gasp. "Excuse me! It's not embarrassing at all!"

"It so is! You're literally hot and you're picking kilns over people? That's like the biggest case of looks being deceiving." He kept going. His hands moving around in dramatics. "Like you pull in with the great appearance, and then you pick...the oven. I bet it's something deeper. There's another reason you pick the kiln."

Agatha perked up, eyes instantly glowing. She was ready to poke at you. "Oh I bet there is. You make the kiln out of the bodies of your dates and that's why we never know who they are?"

"Agatha...what the fuck?" You used the ball of your hand to rub between your furrowed brows. "There is no deeper meaning on why I like my kiln over most people."

"Over most...there's someone you're after isn't there?" Her brown eyes bored into you, not letting you look to anyone for help. She held you hostage for an answer. "Oh there is. Who is it? Is it actually Norm?"

"No!" Your voice worked quicker than your brain. "No there is no one, and even if there was it wouldn't be Norm. Like I said, I would never settle with a man. I'm dedicated to women, have been since I was sixteen. Billy is the only one here who likes men anyways."

"You never let us poke fun at you." Billy sighed. His eyes bouncing up to Lilia. "Do you get to make jokes at home?"

In that moment, you turned up to see. A part of you wondering what she would really answer. Because in reality, you do let her make fun of you. Every day, any day if she wanted. If it earned you a smile or a laugh, you didn't care. You just wanted to see and hear her happiness.

"Every now and then I get a good one in. For two weeks I haven't made one though, someone's too busy sneaking around with Norm." Lilia made her point, her cunning smirk stared back at you.

You managed out a chuckle and shook your head, "I'm not sneaking around! Can I not just be a shop owner who was tending to her customers work?"

Alice was the one to answer, "that's too easy. You need a little spice on your name."

"No! No I don't! I like my life plain, it's never disrupted and is just there." You tried to defend, suddenly it seemed with Lilia next to you everyone was going to get a dig in.

"Yeah, except a plain life wouldn't involve late nights with no alibi." Billy pointed.

"So you really do have to be hiding something from us if you're trying to play it down." Agatha nodded along.

"I was here. I know it's the truth so believe it or not. I was here for two consecutive weeks firing and making things for people to just come paint. Because I'm starting that soon, instead of being just clay." You were insistent now, really just wanting to clear the two weeks.

There was a collection of hums, trying to decide if it was a good enough excuse or not. "And where are these pieces then?" Lilia nudged you. She hadn't seen any extra pieces in the back.

You were silent. Caught in your own lie. Usually, the three wouldn't have known what's in the back. You would've told them there, that you have a shelf near the kiln to put them all on. But Lilia had been back there. She's seen what's there and what was not there.

"Oh..seems like you've been put in the hot seat. How do you plead now?" Agatha's eyes raised to find you with rosy cheeks and trained to your own hands.

"Not guilty." You mumbled. "I'm dropping the topic." The three groaned but let it go anyways. Leaving the rest of the class to random talks about what's been happening in their lives, minus you as they seemed to already know.

And the topic never came back up till it was just you and Lilia in the shop. With the sign on the door reading close and each cleaning in different areas. You in the back putting in the pieces from today and then going to wipe down and wash the tools used.

"So...if you've been sneaking around," she raised. Holding back her laugh as you groaned. "Well you were the one who was caught in a lie."

"Yeah cause I didn't think you'd air me out like that! I really have been here. You know I don't like men, I've stressed that, so it's not even realistic. I've been here just working honestly." You sounded more defeated, maybe it was cause you were tired as the sun slowly started setting. "Why does it bother you so much, even if it was me sneaking around?"

Lilia was suddenly next to you, her lips pressed together. She was biting back her true answer and now you knew how it felt to not know the truth. "If you're sneaking around, it means it's not for the public and you just deserve better than that, that's all. I want you to be happy and well taken care of."

"I am happy. I am also well taken care of. I have no purpose to sneak around with anyone. If I was, you would've known of them by now. But there is nobody. I don't need anyone else," your sentence fell off and remained incomplete. there was a moment where you both just stared in silence. Like you both knew that there was something being unsaid. "We should finish up and get home. I haven't had a night at home in ages." Her curls bounced in agreement. Leaving your side and going back to the front, wiping down a few more tables.

When you got home, you could only sigh. The day had finally caught up to you and you wanted nothing but out of your clothes. Lilia seemed the same way as she had instantly disappeared into her room. At first that's what you really did believe, expecting her to come back out within five minutes to have a drink with you.

You chose something simple, a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low and the same long black sleeve from the other night. Finally letting your hair down and washing your skin from all the clay that still was on you. Feeling incredibly refreshed for the night.

You left your room, sliding in socks to the kitchen. Pouring two glasses, one red and the other juice. You couldn't help but giggle at how childish you seemed drinking fruit punch out a wine glass, mocking the wine glass that was clearly darker. Lilia had joined you only a few seconds later, wearing your shirt and pajama pants.

You pulled your legs together and stared at her. "So..your birthday is tomorrow. Got any plans? Anything you want?" You started, taking the first sip as well.

"Little late to be asking about a gift, don't ya' think?" She leaned back to fully look at you, head propped against her fist. You've realized how natural this is, how easily you both fall into this exact spot night after night.

"That's you assuming I didn't already get you something." You hummed, wiggling your brows a bit. "Anything you want to do?"

"I haven't celebrated a birthday in ages, I don't think I'll start now. But thank you for the thought." She went to shut down the topic, but your facial expression was unsatisfied. "I'm sorry, its just another day for me."

"Boo!" You gave her two thumbs down in her face. Pulling them away before she could swat them down, the sound of your laugh gracing the air. "Well, luckily for you Lilia Calderu, I have a special day planned for you that is the perfect mix of relaxing and spoiling." You beamed, proud of how well you managed to keep everything quiet till now.

The older woman only shook her head. "Baby, we really don't have to celebrate it. Really." Your stomach did flips at the pet name, the blush on your cheeks reddening just slightly. It seemed once you realized your hearts desires, you couldn't conceal anything anymore.. "Anyways, you've done enough for me this year than needed."

"That's because I wanted to do those things. You think I stood outside your shop in the cold because I needed to? I did it cause I wanted to know you. And now that I know you, I want to do something meaningful for you. Also it's a day to celebrate my favorite roommate, so yeah..we're celebrating tomorrow." Your eyes were everything of warm and giving. Lilia enjoyed this stare, how you treated her so well.

She caved, "Alright, what do you have planned? Pottery at the shop?"

You audibly gasped, "Lilia do you think that's all I know?!" You were so happy here. "I planned a late morning so you can sleep in, so I can sleep in, and then I'll make your favorite brunch. After we're going to that one show you had mentioned wanting to see, but eating dinner before because it's not till 8. Everything would be closed by the time we got out. To finish, we'll do presents before bed."

"That is quite the day planned. Is there a limit to how late we're sleeping in? And what say do I get in any of this?" She wasn't objecting to anything, so you figured you had done well. Now everything just had to go as well.

Your head shook left to right, "no ma'am. Sleep as late as you want. It's brunch for a reason. And as for what say you get, you can have all the say, I just made the plan." Your hands were in the air surrendering all power to her.

While you had woken up first and began cooking, you wore boxers and the same black long sleeve. Shaking your hips at the song in your head. Something about today told you that it was bound to be so much better than what you had prepared.

Today you woke up and told yourself you would hint at your feelings. Leaving it open for her to catch on in her own time, but you couldn't bring yourself to out right tell her. Not when you had no idea if she could ever reciprocate those feelings. Yet, you danced while making the perfect breakfast for you and her to share.

Your mind couldn't help to focus on her though, subconsciously flipping the pancakes at this point.

Lilia was many things, you had realized this quickly, but your favorite word to tease her with was kooky. Sometimes even wispy. She always was mumbling different tarot cards to herself. You had played it down to a pull she did earlier or something that had a significance with the card. You also used those terms when she would be scolding you for some tiny mess you had left from either cooking or doing pottery out on the balcony. Those were your favorite times as well.

If it was just right outside and you had enough free time, you would work on new techniques and designs. Lilia would bring herself, a cup of tea leaves, and a blanket that would be wrapped over her legs. She would watch you work first, maybe for the most of ten minutes, before she emerged herself into the tea leaves. You never understood it either, you weren't in her world unfortunately. You knew nothing about tarot or tea leaves. She never let you in either, not like how you did her into your world of clay.

As much as it pained you to not see through her lens, you had managed to accept it and witness from the neighboring universe. You mostly enjoyed being her witness when she couldn't sleep and asked you to come sit in the living room with her. Even if it had been the most grueling day at work, you did. You pried yourself from the warmth of your bed and to the living room.

You were unaware of the many times you did fall asleep though. Lilia felt bad most those nights, yet she needed your presence to ground her from it all. All the crazed times she travels through. But it wasn't till the first time you had came out and laid your head in her lap, so exhausted you didn't even fight it and just slept on her lap that night. Her hands pulled the lovers card as well that night.

"You're making pancakes?" Her voice cleared your thoughts instantly. Especially when you whipped around to see her. Lilia had her curls free from all maintenance, sleep evident in her eyes as she yawned. She still was in your shirt.

"Do you not want pancakes, birthday girl?" You wore a teasing smirk already. Excited to celebrate her even more as she was awake. "I made chocolate chip ones, assuming that you liked them a lot the way you wolfed down three the first time I made them for you."

"Alright no need to be so cocky, baby. It's my day remember? Plus, you surrendered all control so I'd be nice if I were you." She fed your teasing right back to you. Finding a seat at the kitchen table, knowing you were already done in time for when she woke up. Her eyes followed you as you danced around the kitchen to gather everything and set the table. "Thank you," she hummed when you placed a perfect plate in front of her. "You really have stepped up your presentation skills."

"Only the best for you Madame Calderu." You glowed with her attention on you. Taking your own seat, you raised your glass of orange juice. "Happy birthday, Lilia." Lilia smirked at your antics but raised her glass anyways. Clinking the rim of her glass to yours.

It fell quiet for the first bites, the only sound that could be heard was Lilia moaning in approval at the taste of each pancake. A childish glimmer was in her eyes. "You know how to make a girl feel special." She praised you as she continued to eat. You only giggled and let the silence return as you also ate without much to say.

Even while you cleaned up, it was silent as Lilia stayed at the table and watched your every move. You were overly aware of that fact as well. "Can I ask you a question about your pajama choice?" It wasn't what you were expecting, but you nodded anyways. "It's a mix of very feminine pieces, like silks and pinks, while other times it's this almost masculine? What's that all about?"

"Most of my clothes are the ones from my exploring as a twenty year old who didn't know what type of gay was the right one yet. So I went between being hyperfeminine and masculine to see who was right for me. Eventually I gave up because it seemed it was never me, but more so who I was with. I didn't like that idea of changing my appearance for others though. I kept a mix of it all because in the end I'm gonna be gay, so what do my clothes matter?" You had rambled a bit, being honest about the evolution of your wardrobe. "Does it bother you?"

"No...no, I was just intrigue. I do your laundry and sometimes it really does look like you have a man here whose clothes I'm always washing. I can see why people think you and Norm were happening." She smirked behind the rim of her mug.

Your head had whipped around, a mean glare being shot from your spot. "I'm not sneaking with Norm! I have eyes for someone else anyways! So ha!" You stuck your tongue out at her.

"Oh yeah? Who? Kit?" She scrunched her nose. Not giving you a chance to keep defending yourself by getting up to find a spot on the couch. Also, Lilia didn't want to hear about you having the hots for anyone that wasn't her. It awoke a green monster she hadn't seen in a long time. "Did you plan anything for the four hours between brunch and getting ready?"

You came over after finishing up, head shaking. "No, I figured id leave it open for you to decide what we do?" You sat closer than intended, the couching sinking under you and sliding you right next to Lilia. It would be rude to scoot away so you got yourself situated to be more comfortable. "Maybe catch up on the show you've missed the last few episodes of?"

"You'd really sit here and watch that with me?" She really was enjoying having you do whatever she wanted already. "You said last time, and I quote, this show doesn't even had good plot, the gayness is all portrayed wrong. No lesbian actually does that pose."

You glanced down to your hands then back to her. "For you Lilia Calderu, it seems I will do a lot of things. So if that is truly what you want to do, then I will sit here and suffer for your happiness." You sighed out defeat as she reached for the remote. "It really is not how any gay person would act, I want you to know that."

"Yeah? And how do they really act?" She turned to look at you, the first moment the brown was visible for you, your brain failed to comprehend. It was honestly a good example of a gay panic without intent. "Hmm, so I see." Her hand was on your cheek instantly following. Her eyes darkened just slightly as she searched your features.

"See..see what?" You so dumbly managed, completely in this woman's trance. Never wanting to leave it though, all her focus was you and she just saw you.

Although, she flashed you that smile and the conversation was dropped as the show began playing. Her attention no longer on you but on the screen. There it stayed for the next few hours, never breaking away. Well you wouldn't know as you caved into the body heat Lilia radiated and fell into a small nap on her shoulder.

Lilia however refused to wake you until four, lulling you into a deeper state of sleep by playing with the few strands that weren't clips back. But surely she had taken it out to really play in your hair, nails scratching over your scalp as you pushed deeper into her side. A hand throwing itself over her lap was the sign you were actually deep asleep. How long had you been up for you to be this tired naturally? The day had hardly started.

Yet, by five-thirty both of you stood by the doors to your bedrooms gawking at the other. You, in a baby pink mini dress, the back was a corset and a big bow right atop your butt. A simple white short cardigan covered your arms and white chunky heels dawned your feet. Tying everything together with an assortment of jewels and metals. Lilia, in plaid wide legged pants that flowed nicely, it was assortments of yellows and blues over a deep maroon. A plain white button up and a mustard yellow jacket that complimented with the pants. She must've been wearing some platform on her boots as she stood only slightly taller than her average days.

You smiled and your cheeks warmed when she returned it. "You look nice," you made the first step towards the door. Picking up your keys and opening the door for her. "M'lady," you bowed and gestured out.

"You look lovely as well, baby. I could almost tease you all night long while you look this cute." Huh? Had you heard her right? There was no time to question it once she was out the door, looping her arm with yours as you began to talk down. "So where is dinner?"

You slightly smiled, still caught on her previous statement. "It's a little place Billy and Alice both suggested. We told Agatha to not give her opinion after she suggested Starks. That woman and her...Rio are the finest dinners I've ever met. But it's still nice and up there, just more affordable."

"I'm sure it'll be just fine." She hummed. Her approval seemed to be something you were always constantly chasing, stressing yourself for it to the days end. You loved when she thought you did a good job. It at some point began to tickle a need and drive in you, even if you were unaware.

And the dinner was fine, actually it was almost perfect. You had known they served Sicilian specialties, which made Lilia ecstatic to try and compare them to her own cooking. Maybe you should start learning more dishes to cook.

You did let her pick your meal, seeing as you were oblivious to what half of the items tasted or even looked like. It was how you asked that stirred the shift. "Lilia...can you order for me?" You were so shy about asking her. It was such a childish thing to do, when you could've looked it all up, but she was there and knew how each one should taste.

Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her brown earthal gaze was full of mischief and mysteries. "Aww, the lil' chef out her comfort zone? Don't worry, I've got you baby." Lilia beamed anyways and glanced back to the menu. Leaving you to sit dumb and pretty.

The way her lips formed the pet name was enticing. Calling you closer when they pressed together, but pulling back when you did lean in. The deep red was perfect for her. It complimented her every shimmer of her eyes when she got lost in the topic with you.

Lilia called you 'baby' a lot more during the dinner after you had asked her as well. You squirmed in how you slowly felt yourself slipping further and further into her. The worst part about it was the fact she knew what she was doing. Her faux worries of, "baby are you ok?" Or if it was her hand grabbing yours and saying, "can I do anything to help?" Her fingers tracing into your palm, more specifically her middle and ring finger pushing them into the skin.

The server was your savior for the night, coming by frequently to give you time to collect yourself from Lilia. Trying your absolute best to pull your brain back to this planet. Especially when they brought out the little slice of cake with a candle.

The sight of it sobered you up thankfully. A goofy grin shinning from your glossed lips. "Happy Birthday Lilia," you were sparkling like the flame. This was the moment you waited for all night. To see the hidden child finally be celebrated. To see a woman to finally be celebrated for holding on. To see Lilia being celebrated for just being herself.

She felt the world disappear as she blew out the candle. Feeling the wave of appreciation you sent her way as the smoke swayed into the air. "You really are the sweetest, ya' know? Always taking care of me, from the very start. I knew there was something to you."

You weren't quite sure what that meant but you gave a nervous laugh. "I just know when I like someone I guess. I care about the people I like. You're one of those people. You always will be." Your emotions were mixed within your words and they invaded your eyes.

Lilia let her hand return to your cheek, "you make me feel special when you look at me like that."

It was the perfect opening, "it's cause you are. You've been special...and kooky." You teased her back finally. Her eyes narrowing just slightly at you, her hand falling and retreating. But you grabbed it and held it for a second, "I mean it. You are special Lilia. I've been trying to get you to realize that." A weight had crumbled from your shoulders. Even if it wasn't a direct confession, it made you feel open enough that she had a grasp of the idea.

She sighed and focused on how your fingers played with her rings. Your touch was soft and precise. She should've known that though, with how you work with clay and design such intricate shapes, of course you had skilled hands. "You might be the only one who thinks that much of me."

"Good, only I can think of you." It came flying out quicker than you noticed. Once Lilia let out a rumbling laugh, you caught up.

"What? You wanna be my only baby or something?" The confidence she radiated made you feel hot. You put yourself in this situation.

If you backed down, you'd never know. If she said no, that she didn't feel the same, you'd be ok with that. You might spend the night crying and alone but that'll be ok.

"What if I do?" You tried to match her, not even coming close when she shifted more forward. Her canine teeth barred themselves to you. The light making them look sharper than you've ever noticed.

Her tongue darted out, catching your attention to those lips again. Your breathing picked up and you felt on the edge like you've never been before. It was a long drop, you knew that, but if you just got one kiss you'd happily fall. Hell, you'd full sprint off the edge while laughing hysterically.

You pried away and back to her eyes. They were now dark rivers in the night. Lust swimming around and creating little waves of reflected moonlight. This was a look you never knew could be real. "You wanna be mama's good girl don't you?"

The names. The look. Her touch under yours. It was earth shattering. Like everything you had built and had made was only the second important thing to you. The first was her. The first had always been her. "Yes...yes please." Your eyes glossed over in seconds. Succumbing to her dominance and slipping bashful.

Lilia grew a grin that was a combination of everything from sweet and nurturing to hot and destructive. "Is that really what you want, baby?"

Your head nodded while your lips slightly parted. "Yes, more than anything. Please..." the server came back around once more with your card and the final receipt. Wishing you both a goodnight, and Lilia another birthday wish. You signed it smoothly and then huffed yourself back into the reality of what was just happening. "I really do want this."

Lilia hadn't taken you as one to have such a deep headspace, so when you were really meeting her gaze she knew it couldn't have been easy to come back from it. She was the first to stand, wrapping herself in the yellow coat. It was then she came and stood closer to you, having the higher advantage. "I do too, believe me." She leaned forward and kiss your forehead. "I do too, baby." Her kisses must've been powerful because your eyes were blown all over again. You had fallen deep back into it. She couldn't help to hold your soft cheek at it all, it was one of her new favorite moments. "Why don't we go see that show?"

You beamed and nodded. Pulling your own coat over your dress. You were instant to intertwine your fingers, letting her pull you on out but keeping you close behind. You already were a fan of holding her hand, never wanting to let go.

The only time you did was when you sat and her hand held your thigh. She left it there the entire show. It was a distraction just being still, it was derailment when her nails scratched up and down. You had tried to grab her hand and hold it still, yet she would only turn and give you this warning look before returning to the stage. You let go and traced shapes into her hand to focus from her ministrations.

It was the end of the show and not a single line had reached you. You just stood with everyone else while clapping along. The echoing applause sounded the same as the crackling of fire that was your skin. Lilia had you warming up with such light touches. But eventually, it all died down and the cool air of outside is sizzling your skin out.

"Did you like it?" Lilia had asked you, a little eager to know your thoughts on such a show. You only nodded, attempting to play it like you had been paying attention and not thinking of her and all the things she might do to you. Those wised eyes knew though, she knew you hadn't caught a single thing said the moment her hand touched your soft thigh. "Yeah? And what was your favorite part?"

"The acting." You so simply stated. Hoping it was good enough for her to not continue to press. But that would be too easy.

"Who's?" She raised her brow and all you could do was give her a blankness look while walking closer to the car. "You weren't paying attention were you?" The guilt filled your body and answered in itself. Lilia's curls danced around her as her head shook. "That truly is a shame, it's an amazing play."

Your frown was quick to appear, "'m sorry...it's just...you didn't make it easy..." you apologized. Stepping into her space and looping your arm with hers.

"Oh so it's my fault?" She lowly chuckled out her question. A cocky smile filling the silence as you stuttered out sounds but no words. "I'm just teasing you, baby. Don't get yourself so worked up over it."

"And because of your teasing I couldn't pay attention." You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning against her to throw off her balance. Succeeding in the efforts and snickering.

Lilia laughed with you, even as she regained herself. Her arm slipped from yours and her hand settled on your back. "Did I tease you the entire time to work you up? Maybe. And maybe pretty girl, I plan to finish what I started at home."

You rounded to stand in front of her, cheeks turning red but the night dimming it out. Her lips were curled with a smirk that implied everything you needed to know. Soon it was you holding her hand and dragging her to the car.

It started with her straddling your lap in the center of your bed. Her lips kissing all over yours and down your neck, finding every right spot to leave you gasping. The feeling felt overwhelming, to finally have her kissing you. It was feeling like everything was hypersensitive. Stinging with pleasure as she continued all over.

Your hand slipped into her curls, twisting your fingers with the pattern and holding her close. She knew how to work a body and it showed.

Lilia also knew how to stake her claim. Leaving bruises all down the spans of your neck. A silent thought to show the town you were no longer available rang in her head. And when your hand found her hair, she only could groan against you. You needed her just as she needed you. It made her blood rush with anticipation. She wanted to make you feel better than you've ever felt. Really secure her place in your mind. Making sure nobody could ever come in and kick her out.

Her lips were plush against your pulse. Even when they covered her teeth as they sunk into you, the moan slipped straight from your throat. Your free hand flew to steady yourself on her hip, feeling the heat radiating from her. How it seeped through her clothes and onto your exposed skin.

"Lilia..." You hummed before swallowing thickly. You didn't know what you were actually asking for, all you knew is you wanted more of her. In your sight, on your tongue, in your hands, echoing in your ears, and filling your every breath. The very feeling of her on you wasn't enough as you really caved into her. "Mama..."

Her hum vibrated against you, "Yes baby?" You whined at the pet name finally. Knowing that if there was anytime to let her know her effect it was here and now. And the way she called you 'baby' always tickled something deeply rooted in your brain.

You sighed out, the hand on her hip began fisting her top. Begging her closer, "more..."

"So needy...I bet you've been needing me for a while haven't you?" Her movements lightened to almost ghostly passes. It made your skin crawl with goosebumps. "You're the perfect gift for me baby." She spoke low and with rasp. "My perfect girl."

You gasped at the claim. "All yours..." you tightened your grip. Just the subtle touches of her, the amber and deep musk invading your lungs, the sounds of her lips on your skin, sucking, bruising you, everything. It was everything this woman was doing and also wasn't doing that drove you into override. Your mind felt hazy and your body felt hot and tingly. "Mm..please mama...I need more." You whined.

Lilia pulled off, cupping your cheek and seeing that long gone look in your eyes. Your pupils dilated to the very brim of color. "I hear you baby," she hummed. It was effortless to get you to lie down. All it took was a glance back at the pillows and you were crawling frantically to get comfortable. "You look so damn adorable in this dress. Just like a doll."

Your cheeks warmed further and you couldn't help the small grin. "Thank you, I bought it just for you," you bashfully confessed. And suddenly you were on your knees showing yourself off to her.

"Isn't that just sweet of you, dressing for me already. And you're so well mannered baby, you really did want to be my good girl." She smirked as your head bobbed in agreement with a proud smile. "You'll be good for me right? Even when mama buries her cock so deep in you?"

Her hands were holding you firmly in place and she was back in your space. On you without even an inch apart. Lilia was struggling to keep her control and work you up...but fuck you for being so precious. She couldn't help the need to destroy it. To make you her slutty baby.

Her shuddering breath made you lower back down from her. Sitting back on your heels and staring up at her. "Yeah...yes..yes I'll be good even then. Promise," you batted your lashes.

The lust in her eyes deepened to something darker. "Mama's gonna have so much fun with you baby."

You glowed with innocence as you eagerly settled your self back into the pillows again, this time Lilia trapped you down with her hands on either side of you. Her devilish smile seemed nothing of mischief to you, so you were giggling up to her. Relishing in what you thought would be slow and languished.

How naive you were.

Lilia's lips were latching to your chest completely disregarding your already bruised neck, making you gasp and cry. But she made a whole new mural of purple across your collar bones. Leaving your chest rising in deep breaths. "Nobody's gonna think you're single now baby. No more rumors with you and anyone else."

You tried to catch yourself to respond but before you knew it her lips were pressing over your covered stomach. "I'm gonna fuck you in and out of this dress so nicely, baby. The things you make me want to do."

"Mama..." you whined while your hips bucked into the air, bumping into her chest. It made you realized how clothed she is against you and your dress. Your hand grabbed her shoulder, fisting the shirt just once more and pulling carefully at it. "Your shirt...off please." You were polite even in your stare as she obliged.

Letting you drink in the sight as she undid each button one by one. Soon the white fabric was on the floor and she was in just her white bra. Her boobs spilling out just right. Your eyes twinkled with thoughts of kissing them and sucking on them. Making her moan and hum in delight.

Lilia must've seen the gears turning cause she returned to kissing her way down. "When I'm done with you, then you can have whatever you need from me. Got it?"

Your head agreed, "yes mama." Your eyes focused on her between your legs. You were desperate to burn it into your brain. More desperate for her to actually eat you out though.

Lilia was kissing all around your core. Your thighs were left with even more love bites than your chest. "I can't wait to taste how sweet my girl is." She pressed her lips to your clit, smiling to herself as you sharply inhaled and body stilled. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling your white panties down and off your legs.

The cold air over your wetness made you shiver in anticipation. It was when her warm breath fanned over you did you cry out. "Please, I need you so bad mama. I can't take any longer." You pleaded.

It was the richest honey her ears had ever been given. Her tongue flattened against you and in one swipe she collected as much of you as she could. Humming in content at your taste that was all hers. This was her secret stash of honey that only she'd ever be allowed to use. And she couldn't get enough.

Her tongue ravage you in ways you didn't expect. Like she had done this so much it was practically second nature. The thought made you shift slightly, but Lilia seemed to know you in this state like the back of her cards. "I've never had anyone like you baby. I just can't get enough. You're so fucking sweet. So...god who did I please to get you? Hmm? My sweet, sweet fucking girl."

Your body loosened and began to heat up. The coil in your stomach tightening in the most delicious ways. "Ma..mama..don't stop please.."

She hummed against you again, picking up her pace and pushing harder against you. Slurping up as much of you as she could as you came with a cry of her name. Her actual name.

You had snapped back to feel the reality of it for just one moment. To grab her hand and squeeze it as she kept licking and sucking at you. And then as conscious as you were, you were back to whining for her.

Lilia delivered one last lick before placing kisses all over your hips and thighs. Trailing all the way up to your lips, were you both hummed at the taste of you. "We're gonna have issues now that I know you're just a piece of my favorite candy. I'll never be able to resist you, baby."

You, still trying to catch a steady breathing, giggled. "You're exaggerating, mama." Your hand cupped her cheek and you smiled widely once again.

Yet, Lilia only crashed her lips to yours once again. This time a little more rough as her tongue slipped in while you gasped. Establishing itself and dancing lead with yours. She was making sure you tasted what she just did. And when she pulled back, her eyes were sharper as they stared down at you. "The way I'm going to fuck you will make you realize just how humble you are. That you wont believe that's how people want to do you. But only mama will get you. Only mama."

It was much more commanding now. The air felt thicker and you felt your body melt into the mattress you were in flames.

Your heavy breathes were the only thing to be heard as Lilia stood and riffed of her pants. Swaying her hips as she disappeared out the room. You took the minute she was gone to just breathe and calm your racing heart beat.

All your efforts were instantly thrown out however. Lilia returned, and much to her word, she had a rather large strap around her waist. Although it looked rather real if you had any say. She pointed towards the ground in front of her. Flashing her sharp teeth as you obeyed and she was able to collect a fistful of your hair. "Go on. Suck mama before she ruins you."

You loved this switch. Yes her softness and delicacy were nice, but this side of her made your skin crawl with heat. She was dominating everything from your body to your mind. There was nothing besides Lilia.

Your plush lips wrapped around just the tip and Lilia's brows twitched for a split second. You had begun to bob up and down her, chalking it up to be the sight getting her off the most. It was when her hips began to roll with the movement of you, hitting deeper in your throat. Then her hand in your hair had begun to tighten and her hips started snapping faster. She was throat fucking you. Groaning and gasping at the desperate way you held her thighs to stabilize yourself as tears rolled past your temples. All while you kept your eyes on hers.

With one last deep thrust, warmth had shot down the back of your throat and Lilia gave a shaky moan. Her hand let up in your hair and you slipped her out your mouth. You swallowed once to get everything down. Cheeks bright red as you stared at the twitching appendage. White cum still oozed slowly out the tip and your eyes had jumped up.

But Lilia didn't explain anything, she just pointed to the bed. "On all fours baby." Was the only instruction.

Apart of you was in conflict. Something was whispering so quietly to pull out of the deep space you were in. It was so quiet it was gone with the sound of floor creaking under your knees as you stood. Finding your spot in the middle, exactly how Lilia wanted you. Listening to the room around you to find the woman.

Her wised hands ran over your hips, one up your spin and to your neck. Pushing you down into the mattress. Her fingers ghosted the curve of your body. "And look, there's even a bow in the back." She played with the fabric a little before flipping it over to bare your ass to her. She was memorized by your glistening folds. "You're impeccable, baby." She held your hips more firm and lined herself up. "Mama's gonna take such good care of you baby. Don't ever worry again."

You let out a strangled moan as she bottomed out, letting out her own grunt as well. Her chest was pressed against your back as she gave you both a second to adjust. And after five, she was slowly easing into her pace. Pulling all the way to the tip, just to slam all the way back in. "Look at you, already taking me so well." Her lips pressed against your spine.

"Th..thank you..'mmhh..mama," you managed. Your hands fisted at the sheets and your hips started to push back against her. Helping her to find a deeper, softer spot. Once she registered it was your sweet spot her hips moved quicker.

Snapping against you and pounding you into the mattress. "Fuck baby...I don't think I can ever let you leave now. Not when you're sucking me in like this." It was brutal how quick she was moving.her hand snuck around your body and two fingers circled around your clit.

"Fuck...fuck me mama. Just like that. Please, please, please just like that." You felt your breath hitch in your throat and your body tighten. It felt all so good, so warm, so right. You clenched around her as you let a moan echo into the room.

But Lilia kept going. Her pace never faltering as she just slammed into you. Her nails digging into your beautiful hips, pulling you back against each thrust. It felt like she had began to find deeper as your body was working up all over again.

"You're so captivating baby, ever since the day you first arrived. I couldn't help myself but want more of you. And denying you..god that was the worst part. I was denying myself. But now, now we're done denying." You heard her words but they felt like muffled harmonies just passing through.

Your body tensed again and you were crying out again. "Mama..." you tried to get away, leaning forward out her grasp.

Yet she had one last thrust in her. She let you slip just away enough, that when she slid right back through your tight warmth, she found the golden spot. Sending you into an intense aftershock and she filled you full and groaned against your shoulder. Her arm hooked around your waist and held you still with her.

Both of you panting and hardly having anything to say. "Let's get you out this dress." She whispered, kissing your sweating temple.

You felt her slip right out of you and lean back. The sound of the harness coming undone caught your ear, yet it never hit the floor. Using your remains strength you pushed up to look for it. But it wasn't anywhere to be found. And when you looked to Lilia, she was walking away from you into the bathroom.

Your mind only thought it over so long before Lilia was returning in a shirt and with a wet towel. She offered you a hand to stand which you took. It was subtle the next moment. Her hands untying the dress and freeing you from it. The pink fell to your feet and you were suddenly butt naked in front of Lilia. Blushing madly as you caught her eyes in the mirror.

She licked her lips. "Oh baby...we might have to do a round two."

"That wasn't part of the plan Lilia!" Agatha scolded the older witch. "I need my walking darkhold conscious and aware of reality. Not whimpering and begging mama!"

Lilia sat in the chair feeling ashamed. It wasn't meant to happen. They were supposed to come and pull you from the many witches and warlocks who've added to the Scarlet Witch's curse. Those who knew of your knowledge worked to conceal you into your fairytale life.

But when Agatha Harkness formed a coven to walk The Witches Road successfully, she needed more. She needed you. The walking Darkhold. Secluded and alone between an apartment and clay shop. They were nice enough to give you two locations unlike Agatha.

"Ok, well let's think. She's oblivious to us all having powers. So we're still clear of being detected as anything." Alice pointed out the pro.

"I've been doing pottery with magic for how long and she hasn't noticed." Agatha added. Her blue eyes trained to Lilia as she thought. "Did you use any magic at home?"

Her big brown eyes shifted to look away. "Last night I did..." she murmured but the coven easily knew what she said.

"Oh my god Lilia! You man," Billy nudged her while walking by to get a drink from the kitchen. "So what if you ease her to question it? You have the deepest, no pun intended, connection with her. Drop things of the darkhold to her."

"Are we sure giving Agatha Harkness back the thing is a good idea anyways?" Jen crossed her arms, being against this idea in the beginning.

"She's not a thing." Lilia and Agatha said at the same time. Eyeing each other in suspicion.

"Let's run with Maximoff's idea. What if you mention details I feed you? Ones I know she knows on the fly? I'll write them down and you'll leave them about the place." Agatha played off the boys thought.

"And what if it doesn't work?" Lilia raised the opposing. Apart of her didn't want to break you out. She wanted you all to herself. If you were out you'd be spending all your time with Agatha trying to recreate the Darkhold.

Alice crossed her arms and held herself a little tighter. "We have no choice but to try Lilia. What harm could it bring?"

"Unleashing the last source of spells that have been put into a hook called 'The Darkhold' for a reason." Jen scoffed. As much as she didn't like the idea, she was running with it to free someone 'bound'. She knew that feeling herself.

Agatha hurried around and scribbled down spells onto a variety of sticky notes. In total making seven and handing them to the divination witch. "I need her out the spell Calderu. Don't let whatever feelings you conjured for her little personality ruin this. Or so help me, I will walk in next time and drag her out."

It was an honest promise kore than a threat. Lilia knew that. "Fine. I'll put them around the house tonight before she comes home."

"Good girl," Agatha hummed before leading them out the apartment. After Jen had left, the brunette turned one more time. "Lilia. Get this done so we don't have to be vicious."

So she did. She placed the spells in the places she knows you go straight for when you get home. One in the key bowl by the door, one in the bathroom on the mirror, your pajama drawer, on your nightstand by your charger, the fridge on your fruit punch, in the cup cabinet, and lastly on the black tv screen. It was impossible to miss any of them.

But it didn't prepare her for what you had planned for coming home. You waltzed in basically shinning with joy as you pecked her cheek. She sat in the living room, anxiously waiting your arrival.

"Today was so busy! Busy but good!" You clearly missed the note in the key bowl. There were six other chances. "Pour me juice and I'll be right out," you gave her another peck and we're off into the room.

You first collected something to change into. Feeling a sweats and boxer outfit, you collected the black sweats from the closet and boxers from the top drawer. Grabbing a hoodie as well and throwing it all on to the bed.

Heading into the bathroom next. In need to wash away all the grime and clay that lingered. The note caught your attention first. Your brows furrowed and you mumbled over the words. Something about them felt staticy on your tongue. You even went as far to check yourself in the mirror.

In all, with the new unease you continued through your routine. You were changing clothes when the house just seemed too warm for a hoodie, so you swapped it for a tank. Another note with gibberish was lying on top. Had Lilia placed these about? What are they and why in your drawer?

You kept moving about, finding another next to your charger. You figured you could ask if you brought them to her. Including the one you caught on the tv. "Lilia? What are these notes?" You had four in your hands and none of them made sense.

"Baby...I need you to really concentrate. Do they seem familiar at all?" Her brown eyes were wide with pleads. None of this was making sense to you. "Have you tried saying them out loud?"

"They're in a language I don't even know. What is it even? Latin?" You wildly guessed. You took your spot right next to her and kept trying to read them. "I'm a bit confused. This feels like earlier when Rio stopped by...said something about reality and I just assumed she was making a bad joke."

"Yeah? And what did she say?" Lilia stood, briefly leaving your side to grab the other three. Bringing them back and setting all seven on the coffee table.

You shrugged while staring. "She was on about Agatha needing me in a different reality. Like we knew each other somewhere else. Then she said this one was cute and boring. I need an adventure." You intently focused on the fifth note. "You know Latin right? Said you took a class? Can't you read these?"

"I can, but it's not about me." She shook her head.

"Then what's this about?" You picked up the note and really traced the letters. "This one kinda seems familiar. Like I've seen these letters arranged once before." You kept repeating what you could.

Eventually your broken syllables turned into words. Then you were chanting them. Your body shook with a cold rush that ran all through your veins. You've known this feeling before. Your eyes fell to the other notes, realizing what they were. You knew these spells.

"Oh thank- fucking finally hun!" Agatha's voice barged into the room.

"Oh my- Harkness what the hell happened?" You shot up. Where were you and who were these people around you? Your eyes dropped to your hands, so did Agatha's.

Her chuckle of relief washed the room. "Oh you still have it all. Oh, the Scarlet Witch. She destroyed every copy of the Darkhold. But not you. You got buried deep. Weeks. Months of coven work to get you freed."

You scoffed. "Please, Agatha Harkness and a coven? That's the biggest joke I've heard in my life. Is that who these people all are? Your coven?" Your bite was so familiar for the purple witch, but new to everyone who'd met your false personality.

"I see why you two get along." Jen huffed, taking a seat over on a stool. "So how'd you meet her Darkhold?"

"Unintentionally. She was fucking around with the book, casted a spell and poof! The literal embodiment of all those spells and things you would let take over your morales." Your smile was sickening.

"Yeah, well I need you." Agatha cut the rest of the conversation. Snapping her fingers in your face to get your focus. "I need your knowledge. I need you to rewrite the book."

You sighed, "it's always need, need, need with you Agatha."

"I just freed you from how many curses? This is how you respond?" She was in disbelief.

You nodded, "uhh yeah! I was only in that curse cause of you! Dragged my ass to Westview and played house and now look! Whose house are we even in?!" Your hands were wildly gesturing.

"Yours! Well yours and Lilia's. Ya know? Mama?" Agatha's brow arched and her smile was nothing but teasing. "I know you remember more of those months than you're letting one."

Your eyes dropped to the oldest witch by your side. Well...technically you're the oldest living thing in the room. "You fucked me with a magical dick?" Your brows furrowed. Her cheeks blushed heavily at your forwardness. "I wanna put a pin in that for sure, but in the mean time. Even if we do recreate the Darkhold, it won't be the same. Especially since I have a horrible drawing hand so I could get you the correct formations for certain rituals."

"I don't need rituals! I need power," she groaned. Her hands on your shoulders and pushing you down to the couch. She crouched and held your hands. "You hold over thousands years of dark magic up in the pretty brain of yours hun. I need you to use it for me ok?"

Lilia tensed at the way Agatha was speaking to you. Like she had once been the one to dominate you. "That's because I am well into at least my five thousands."

The three in the kitchen finally took further interest in you. "Hold on," Billy pipped up. Rushing over to hover over you as well. "You're over five thousand years old?"

"I'm the embodiment of that dumb book, yeah. Unfortunately. And you kid, your mother was a pain in my ass. I mean seriously, even under everything, every curse, spell, binding, I could feel her using the book. She never slept, kept me lingering for ever." You pointed before dropping to Agatha again.

"What do you say, hun? Just like old times?" Her blue eyes were silently, and so hidden deeply, begging you.

Lilia was for sure you'd go. That those dark fingertips that used to be clear from all mischief would run off to cause destruction. Leaving her forgotten.

"No."

The room erupted in to confused 'huh's. Except for Jen who was laughing in Agatha's face at the backfiring of her plan.

"What the fuck do you mean no?" Her hands gestured in your lap for any explanation to this.

Your eyes found Lilia. "I want to stay here with her. You're right, I do remember those months. And I remember how real it felt with Lilia. Unfortunately do hope as the Darkhold, I'm still accepted." You were in just her world. "I can give you everything."

To engrossed in those deep swirls, you missed Agatha groaning as she got up. Already just accepting her defeat on having you fully, but she was going to get those spells.

Lilia's hand had come up to your cheek, a thumb stroking over it as her heart swelled. "You really mean it?"

"You'll have to relearn me is the only downside." You placed your dark fingertips on her hand. Finally drawing all the rooms attention to them. The blackness ran far up your arms and under your shirt.

"Wait, wait, wait. Before you go swearing yourself into marriage Bookie I need to know you'll at least give me spells when I need them? I just need something, anything from you." She had that signature annoyed look she always had with you.

"If you ever call me that again I'm not helping you. But for now you have yourself a deal. But don't think you're getting any of the good ones." You hummed, not really paying any mind to her anymore.

"We should go before they start making out..." Alice mumbled, watching you and Lilia get closer and closer slowly. It was comedic how they all scurried out.

The door closing as you, the knowledge of the Darkhold, laughed the wondrous Madame Calderu for the first time clearly.

"I never gave you your gift did it?" The question fell from your lips softly. You were quieter when with just two people. Her curls shook left and right. "Yeah..you did fuck me pretty good. Imma go get it, I know pottery me would've wanted you to actually have it."

You pressed a kiss to the back of her hands and went to get the bag in the corner of your room. Bringing it back with you to the living room. "Here, she even wrapped it according to you."

"You say she like it still wasn't you?" Lilia sensed the disassociation with roommate she fell heavily for.

Your head shook, "I know that she wasn't me. I would've never made anything in bed that easy." Your smile was still the same though. Even if the eyes with it were full of contained wickedness and chaos. "Go on, pretty girl. Open it."

Her cheeks heated under your prominent gaze. You're right, you wouldn't have made sex easy. As she pulled out the white and yellow paper, she couldn't help to think of how the age gap has shifted. You were millenniums before her. She wasn't even close to one thousand. Her hands touched something cool. Grasping around it and pulling it up.

It was a ceramic card holder. The details being all so familiar to the witch. They were the same ones she painted long ago by her own hand. It was almost replicas of each card lining around the sides. But the cover was her most favorite part, the big queen of cups stared up at her. Except the difference was the color in curls. They weren't red and young like how Lilia's was, these were peppered like hers now. Like the face you had met.

"You knew?" Her eyes leaped to yours as her fingers couldn't help to take in every inch of texture.

Your head nodded slowly, "I always had an inkling I was missing something but I wasn't ever going to piece together the truth. And it was the amount of attention the card. I figured one plus one equals two... do you like it?"

"Baby I love it. Thank you." She whispered so gently. This time she leaned in. Her wised smile pressing to your goofy one. It felt natural already and made all the chaos you hold disappear into a void of knowledge.

She was someone you could get used to.

#reader insert #marvel #agatha all along #fanfic #lilia calderu #agatha harkness #x y/n #lilia calderu smut #lilia calderu x reader #patti lupone #agatha all along fanfic #billy maximoff #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #rio vidal #wandavision

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beware-of-pity · 3 months ago

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You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) III

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations.The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter III: Cathedral where you cannot breathe (no need to pray, no need to speak)

The Sept was cold and empty, to accompany you in your prayer, there were only the candles burning bright on the marble altar in front of the statue of the Mother and your septa behind you, who sat on the stone bench.

Muffled in the background was the sound of novices singing. They had been singing in the sept all morning, but in reality, they had been doing so since your mother’s departure from this world a few days past.

The sound of their voices mingled with the comforting flickering of the candles.

Now, along with the names of your siblings, you added that of your mother as you lit a candle for each of them.

The air was hot and heavy, smelling of incense and sweat from the heat created by the many lit candles, crystal-kissed and candle-bright; it could make anyone dizzy at first breath. You knew the hymns; your mother had taught them all to you a long time ago.

As you joined your voice with that of the novices along the tune of the hymn of the mother, your mind wandered to the first time you knelt to pray.

You could count five years of age on the sunny spring day your mother had taken you with her to the Grand Sept. Your father’s health had been anything but perfect, and many worried he would die as a result of it. Your mother, despite her hidden wishes for his timely death, had brought you and Helaena with her for a prayer in the name of his good health.

Even though your young mind couldn’t comprehend the weight of your father’s deteriorating health, you understood better than anyone the implications of it. Your mother wasn’t exactly subtle in her plans and plots behind closed doors when she would whisper them in the privacy of her room to you and your sibling, encouraged by her father.

The intricacies of the faith of the seven were never lost on you; your mother had a servitude of lady maids who hailed from Old Town, some were her cousins of a lower rank who served in her household, all faithful servants and devoted members of the faith. Your Septa being one of them or at least one of the only remaining ones that had not returned to Old Town or fled at the first news of war breaking. Safe to say that even before that day, you were not privy to the teachings of the faith, which your mother wished for your education to be stipped in, as opposed to those ‘Vulgar’ Old Valyrian Gods your sister Rhaenyra and your uncle Daemon believe in.

You were her daughter, and she would see fit that you were raised as she wished, and she wished for you to be raised in the manners of a courtly and devoted young lady, who professed to the faith’s teachings of modesty and submission, in the name of duty, honour and sacrifice.

The paths of the Mother, Maiden and Crone were laid for you since you were born, ones you were not forced to embark on, having taken a liking to those figures out of your own volition. You had tarot cards with their images drawn on them, which you would look at to pray with when you couldn’t go to the sept.

Your mother had helped you kneel, her warm and reassuring hand drawing circles on your back as she watched, so small and not even tall enough to reach the altar where the candles lay. She led the prayer, being the one among you three better suited for the task. You didn’t know how to talk to the gods, you wondered if the words you whispered in the solitude of your room were as heard as those your mother spoke before them when she came here.

“We ask the Mother for mercy. We ask the Crone for guidance in these trying times” Your mother’s voice was instructing but humble, her words pleading behind the falsehood of her requests.

Let him die, she would think to herself, he’s of better use to me dead than alive

“We ask the warrior to give our lord husband and father courage. We ask for the Stranger to not come for him yet, as his time has yet to come”

Your father did, indeed, get better, though you weren’t too sure it was because your mother had asked the gods to have the mercy of making it so.

His rising health was the cause of celebration, with a feast held to celebrate the occasion, one everyone was commanded to attend. Your mother smiled and kissed the cheek of your father, who gloated at her affection while she frowned and sneered when he looked the other way. This was just the way things were, and even at five, you knew the kind of love they shared.

Sometimes, you wondered if your mother would have wept had he died that time. If she would have played the sullen widowed at his funeral to garner the sympathies of others.

The night your father died had brought the many scenarios you had imagined and turned them into your reality - giving you every answer to the questions you once pondered and making you wish you had never asked them.

He had been kept in his room, locked, for ten days after. The stank coming from the cracks and crevices reached deep within the walls of the Keep, all so your mother could have the time to properly make sure Aegon sat the throne instead of your sister.

You had begged your mother to let Silverwing at least burn him, put him out of his misery and let him enter the afterlife, which she had refused and had made you wait until the news of your brother’s coronation had reached Dragostone. Only when the tide had brought news of Rhaenyra’s premature labour did your mother send for the servants to prepare the funeral for your father, an occasion she hoped would soon befall Daemon to plan for his wife and child.

Small boys become large men, in time, and a babe sucks down his mother’s hate with his mother’s milk - how long until you turned out like her? Traitors' blood is said to run thick, after all.

Your brothers had been shaped in her very image, which your father saw and never stopped himself from pointing out. No wonder he preferred his daughters, you included, over his sons.

But you were of the same blood as that had flowed in your brother’s veins. In the quiet of the night, your thoughts and you were left with the question of if you were bound to become like them. Ambitious and cruel.

Your father….he was a man, a better one than most, but alas, a man he remained. And that did not mean he was a good one.

You heard often of the tale detailing the death of his first wife, how he had married your mother only half a year after that. Some said he loved your mother more, that she had a hold over him that the late Aemma Arryn never had.

There were whispers, that….you never allowed your ears to listen to; about how your mother had been entertaining your father long before his wife’s death.

How they had been in a sort of affair of some kind before Aemma was cold. Had your mother truly seduced him or had simply caught his attention, the story goes that your mother was chosen above all to become the second Queen to hold your father’s hand and perhaps his heart.

Whatever the case, the love your father had for his first wife never overcame what he felt for your mother, honouring Aemma’s memory in upholding Rhaenyra as his heir until his very end, when your mother had laboured between death and life five times to give him his children, and never getting anything in return other than his ‘love’.

Which your mother thought wasn’t enough, especially when she had no love or fondness left in her for him when he hit the sickbed during the last months of his life. You didn’t blame her. You understood the resentment she felt towards being the exception of a thousand-year-old tradition and precedence. Every queen before her had watched their sons sit on the throne unchallenged, unquestioned.

Your mother did not have the same privilege, and she felt like it was wrong of her to be deprived of what she felt she should have rightfully been given for her loyalty, her sacrifices, and her effort in upholding the duties she bore as Queen. Especially when your father did not concern himself so much with his.

If your mother was the strict and duty-bound parent, your father was the fun, lenient one. Lenient was a better word most used for absent.

It’s not that he wasn’t around or made any effort in his ways of parenting you or Helaena; you two were close to him, not as much as Rhaenyra, but more than Aegon and Aemond could claim.

You loved the afternoons you got to spend with him in front of his model of Old Valyria, listening to the histories and tales of your family’s destructed ancestral home. When you were young, he used to tell you tales of how he had flown Balerion north of the Wall to fight Wildinlings, giants and wargs.

Of course, those tales were made up, but the way you smiled and laughed at them paid his efforts in making them sound as realistic as they could.

But, apart from that? apart from that…..he wasn’t much involved.

Most responsibilities when it came to raising you and your siblings came down to your mother. And every choice she made was seldom opposed by him.

You wished he had been more around, more active, to teach you more, but at last, perhaps he just…..didn’t want to.

He worried about Rhaenyra more, despite how he loved you and Helaena too.

Whenever news from Dragonstone came, he was at the beck and call to be the first to hear of them.

If Rhaenyra was sick, he would know. If she was with child once more, he would write and congratulate her with words of goodwill for the pregnancy. It was always Rhaenyra, and it remained Rhaenyra for the rest of his life.

He had Aegon and Helaena marry mostly to put Aegon out of the marriage market and to shut forever the possibility of him marrying Rhaenyra, a notion your mother often insisted on and one your father did not take kindly to.

With two of his children out of possible alliances, he had ruined your mother’s plans of marrying either to future potential allies.

He delighted in Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, as well as Maelor when he was born, making Helaena bring the little ones to his room so he could recount the stories he used to tell you in your infancy to them, as if to pass them down as true history.

He loved his grandchildren so much that he had begun to make plans for a possible betrothal for you before he passed.

To who you did not know, but some of the papers left and found in his room, when it was getting cleaned off the stank of his rotten body, suggested he thought of Jacaerys as a possible husband for you. Perhaps to end the discord that ran between the two factions and unite them once and for all - but he had died before he could do so.

Plans that were never put to motion or mentioned were no plans at all, ones no one would follow. Merely empty words, and even if he had approved of something officially, your mother was sure to get rid of any evidence.

You were briefly betrothed to a Lannister during the war, one of Jason Lannister’s young sons, just as Aemond was to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters. If you were not wrong, the young girl was now married to one of Rhaenyra’s most loyal allies. Was it Floris? Maris? No, Maris had been the one to instigate your brother to follow after Lucerys at Storm’s End. If only she knew what she was setting up in motion with her sneering words.

You were so lost in your thoughts you neither felt the presence nor the steps approaching the altar you knelt before. What you felt, though, was your Septa standing from her bench and walking a short distance to give you and this new presence the privacy that had been requested.

Your singing had stopped long ago but you dared not open your eyes as you felt what you most certainly believed to be a man, kneel beside you.

You did so, only when the sweet scent of leather and dragon hit your senses, knowing of only one man possible of carrying such scent.

“I did not take you for a man of prayer”

Indeed, Jacaerys was never one for religion. His mother had been more fond of the Valyrian Gods, such as the one she had named her dragon after. He had been made to swear on the Seven-Pointed Star when he was sent as a messenger up North to gather the support of House Arryn and House Stark. Mission he had proved more than successful in, unlike his brother….

“I am not”, he said “I’ve been taught my entire life that we Targaryens are closer to gods than to men. But alas, there are moments when my own flesh urges me to return to the nature of my soul. I am but a man before the gods, and when the time comes, I will be judged by them as such”

He had stopped calling himself a Velaryon the moment he was pronounced Prince of Dragonstone, opting for the name Jacaerys Targaryen. You watched from the side as he paraded himself by that name, with a confidence he lacked with his last.

“My heritage and my dragon will not defy my fate, but my devotion to the life I’ve served. There are times where I too find myself drawn to the common vices of men such as faith.”

You looked at him with the tail of your eye, the seriousness of his words, and the hardness of his features only highlighted more by the soft glows of the burning candles.

“You’re an honourable man. I do not see why the gods would judge you for the deeds you’ve done to protect your family” you said

“You know why” The sharpness and resignation of his tone were more than telling of what he was not willing to reveal. But you understood.

“That is no fault of yours” you reminded him, as you had done before, many times. “They know that too, just as I do”

“My very own existence is a sin against the gods” This time, he spoke with sorrow and dejection, ones you thought he had been carrying within his entire life

“The gods forgive every sin. I don’t see why they could not forgive this one” To that, he did not respond. “One that has always been out of your hands, out of your own will”

In the silence of the sept, here, two beings that carried so much guilt inside of them knelt before the gods as they spoke the truth heavying their hearts.

Your hand reached for a candle stick, holding it out for him to take. He looked sceptical at the prospect you were opening for him, but he took the stick, although with reluctance. He lit a candle that had been burned many times already, caved to the inside, burned by prayers, calls, and words lost only to time.

“How do you…?” He asked, but his question trailed at the ends.

“I don’t know” You were honest about your response “She taught me how, and I never….I never thought her wrong in her methods” Hesitation ran through you before you spoke again “Say whatever you wish, the gods will not judge. It is for you and them to know”

He held his hands up to the altar, crossing his hands as he fell into a silent prayer.

Beside him, you offered him terrestrial comfort and he sought that of otherwordly beings.

“I find this to be a way to be with my mother” Your words were soft, almost hunting as they reverbed slightly through the air “and with my siblings. I light a candle for their lost souls”

His eyes opened to look at candles lit in front of you before returning to find yours “I feel close to them as if they’re here with me” You pursed your lips “I get to say to them what I was never able to in life”

“Is that why you starve?” His question, although blunt, did not hold edge, anger or arrogance. It came from curiosity, a need to understand why you were hurting yourself when it pained him to watch. “To feel close to them?”

“No” your response held the same tone as his “I don’t starve. I fast. I rid myself of the guilt I carry with me”

“Call it whatever you want, but you’re hurting yourself” Now he was angry, surely he must by the forwardness of his words

“It’s a practice performed by Septas that want to rid themselves of the guilt they carry without revealing their sins” he would probably not understand, but you felt the need to explain, “My mother’s Septa she…used to be extreme in her methods. My mother would spy on her when she was young and took after her mentor as she grew” you sighed “I know you think of my mother as a cunning, ruthless woman that held no remorse for what she did but….I saw it. She ate at herself at times, and I think she used to beat herself up”

“You have nothing to rid yourself of” he was trying hard to convince you, making you realise that the truth you thought your words of carrying was no truth at all but rather one you had made yourself believe to be. You had done nothing, and yet here you were, punishing yourself for something others had done in your name, in your family’s name. Jacaerys thought it unfair.

When Lucerys had died, he had been angry, but most of all, he felt guilty. Had he not suggested for him and he to be sent as messengers to propose a more appealing approach instead of ravens, then perhaps Lucerys might still be here with you all. But Jacaerys had learned long ago that to kill himself with his feelings was not what Lucerys would have wanted. Lucerys was a sweet boy who loved his brother, and he would have hated to see Jacaerys beat himself into an early grave.

Many nights he had cried, nights he had visited the nursery, hoping to find comfort in his younger siblings, Joffrey in particular, who reminded him most of Luke. He didn’t know how to answer the childlike questions Aegon and Viserys asked him of when Lucerys would come home; he hoped the words of the mighty adventure he had embarked on would last until they were old enough to learn the truth.

“How can I not when my very name angers people?” You asked, “When my own existence is met with disdain? My presence pitied?”

“That I do not know” he responded, “but we can try how to”

Your eyes met, glistening into the light, silent words only you two would know until the end of your very days, whispered and sworn in the presence of the gods.

Together.

AN: So, about Alicent. I feel the need to explain what I'm doing with her. I'm writing for book Alicent while keeping the storyline of Otto forcing her to get close to Viserys and having him fall for her so Otto can get his bloodline on the throne. The idea is that she was not kin to the plot and was not a happy participant in it, but becomes who she is the moment she realises the bed was already made and how strong the need to play the game in order to survive was, turning into the leader of the Greens and taking over her fathers plans. She's....very complicated to explain, but if you look hard enough there are small hints of young show Alicent. So we're going with book age and characterization for her. Hope you have fun with this.

Taglist: @esposadomd

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vidals-harkness · 5 months ago

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just pictures on paper (lilia calderu)

summary: lilia sees a particularly jarring in her cards. who should she trust? her divination or her darling?

fic type: angst

word count: 0.8k

pairings: lilia calderu x fem!reader

warnings: sad, angst, no happy ending

Outside it was as per a normal day--with the occassional grief-stricken lunatic coming in for a consultancy for a hundred bucks an hour, after which you and your girlfriend would enjoy a nice, warm cup of tea together.

However, today was odd.

She'd been acting strange lately, after having dropped her tarot deck, only to see a seven of swords right there, face up, calling to her.

She wanted to ignore it, but she couldn't. The image stayed burned in her mind for days, but she didn't realise how it affected you.

It started three days prior, the change.

A simple Sunday afternoon, the windchimes on the porch jingling with the occassional breeze, you humming a tune as you cooked lunch, while Lilia did her magic in the front rooms.

"My love," you smiled, coming to kiss her cheek. She turned away from it, muttering something about tarot and having a long day.

It stung, but you gave her the space she needed and wanted.

"Lilia, would you like some lunch now, love?" You asked softly, massaging her shoulders gently, coming up behind her. She flinched away from your touch.

The tarot card had distorted her image of you, she didn't know what to believe. A hidden agenda? What could you possibly want? Her power? No, that seemed unlikely. Money? She barely had any.

Then why did the tarot warn her of deception and hidden agendas? Why?

You decided to let it go. "Fine, I'll keep it in the casserole, you can heat it when you want," you were hurt, no doubt, but you didn't really want to show it. You didn't want to guilt her into anything.

The next day it started with her simply sliding out of bed earlier than you, without kissing you gently to coax you awake, without suggesting some morning coffee.

You hated disruptions in routine. And this was one, certainly. Could you blame her? Maybe. Did you want to? No.

The whole day you both barely spoke ten words to each other. With her avoiding your every touch, gaze, and remark, with her getting up whenever you sat close to her.

Today was the worst. You'd only just come back from a shift at the diner, feet hurting and head pounding.

"Lilia, dear, would you be a doll and just get the hot water running for me?" You asked, barely able to stand.

She simply huffed, "Why must I?"

You flinched. She never turned down a polite ask from you. Never. "W-Well, I've had a long shift, and I genuinely need a moment to sit down before going in--" You explained, confused. "Lia, my darling, what's been up with you lately? Have I done something?"

She rolled her eyes, silent. "I don't know, have you?"

You blinked, confused beyond belief. "I...don't believe I have, my dear,"

"Don't call me that," she scoffed. "You two-faced little lady,"

Ouch. "Two-faced because I asked you to get hot water running...? I feel like there's a disconnect between our reactions--" You admitted, tilting your head, a frown passing over your face.

"I saw the cards," she said, glaring at you. "I thought of you, and pulled the seven of swords. What hidden agenda do you have with me, Y/n L/n?"

You were baffled. Hidden agenda? What, was wanting her delicious sugar cookies 24/7 a hidden agenda? You were quite sure it wasn't.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lia--"

"It's Lilia to you,"

You nearly stepped back, eyes wide. "Lilia, why--why are you doing this?"

"The cards don't lie," she said plainly. "And I know what I saw. I don't think...I don't think I want to be involved with a two-faced snake,"

"Two faced snake?! You saw a picture on a piece of paper and suddenly I'm a snake?!" You exclaimed, recoiling. "I've done everything for you!"

"Like what? Make me breakfast, coffee, fuck me from time to time?" She snapped. "What's your motive, hm?"

You looked at her like she was crazy. And at this point you were quite sure she was, too. "I have no motive!"

"Really? Explain to me then, why a diner worker would be interested in a witch of immense power, hm?” She exclaimed, brow raised.

“First, tone down the scorn at my occupation okay? Second, I don’t know, cause the witch is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen and she loves her from the second she laid eyes on her?!” You said, getting angry now.

“Oh yeah?! Well my tarot says otherwise!” She scowled. “Seven of swords, a hidden agenda. You were on my mind, Y/n. And I saw it. It jumped from the deck, it needed to catch my attention. I know something is wrong, you have a motive. I just don’t know what it is yet,”

“I have no motives, Lilia! Don’t you trust me?!” You said, close to tears.

“I don’t, not anymore,” she whispered, looking at you right in the eye.

You were shocked, her revelation was confusing and valid and stupid all at the same time. But what hurt the most was that she didn’t trust you.

“You…you believe a picture in a paper over me?” You whispered, taking a step back. “After everything I’ve done for you, you believe the tarot over me?”

She felt her resolve nearly break but shook her head of it all. “Yes. I want you to leave, Y/n. I won’t let you hurt me,”

“But I don’t want to hurt you, Lilia,” you said, hands fidgeting nervously, tears in your eyes. “I’ve only ever loved you, and that has been my only agenda. To love you forever, till the day I die,”

She didn’t reply. She turned her back and went to the kitchen, shaking her head.

You nodded. “Alright. I see where I stand now. I’ll be out by tomorrow,”

You did just that, and Lilia would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt, it didn’t hurt that your smile didn’t greet her first thing in the morning. That you weren’t there to hold her when her visions plagued her.

She pulled a card. The lovers reversed. A grave mistake, poor judgement.

But it didn’t matter now.

You were gone for good.

All because of pictures on a paper.

Hi hi, bao buns! I’m working on the requests, and I'm happy to take more! Love you all!

#lilia calderu x reader #lilia calderu #agatha all along #angst imagine #lilia calderu angst

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taratarotgreene · 1 year ago

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Mars in Capricorn, horny passion, drive your career success

Mars, the red planet and warrior God, undisputed macho ruler, enters the 10th sign of Corporate structure and worldly success in a precisely cut business suit where he is an Exalted in Capricorn January 4-February 12/13 to help us get it up for our careers. Mars will be extra Marsy when he makes his Heliacal rising and emerges from the Sun’s beams on January 9, 2024 at 03°25′ Capricorn. MAR is…

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#Astrology psychic Tarot card reader Tara Greene #Canada&039;s best psychic tarot reader #January 2024 #Lady Gaga #Mars in Capricorn #Mars Out of Bounds #Nicki Minaj #Robert Pattinson #Tara Greene women&039;s spirituality workshops #Tarot card reader best #the Devil #the Tower #Toronto

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not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

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paranormal love

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x fem!reader

a/n: Bucky is going to be very OOC for the first half of this. Just trust the author on this one, it will all make sense in time. (Toxic relationships, paranormal happenings - you have been warned)

Summary: Moving into this house was supposed to be the blessing your marriage needed. Instead you only seem to be twisted against each other. Something lurks within these walls, something angry, something lonely. Someone wants you gone, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have his revenge on the woman who left him behind. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Okay,” you say, balancing the camera in your palm, zooming in on James’ back while he unpacks the kitchen boxes. “Wanna smile for the camera?”

He gives you a glance over his shoulder before turning and waving to the camera. He chuckles a little, glancing down at the lens and then back at you. “What are you doing?”

You sigh, placing the camera on the counter and letting it record. “Well, you know how the lady said this place was haunted?”

He rolls his eyes and glares at you. “I told you not to listen to her, that chick was off her meds.” You swat at his arm but he bounces away from you playfully.

“Shut up,” you mutter, holding back a small laugh. “I just thought that if there were any supernatural happenings,” you nod towards the camera, “we’ll need proof if we’re going to make this a tourist trap.”

James smiles, leaning over to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Good call, babe.” You smile after him as he heads back out to the truck to bring in more boxes. Your eyes briefly dart to the camera before you shake your head with a disbelieving chuckle.

Do you believe in the supernatural? Yes. The metaphysical? Depends on who’s trying to sell you their tarot cards. But you do know that when that woman handed you the keys after you bought the place, you’d never seen such stark relief.

That poor old woman was terrified of living in this house alone. Of course, the old bitch didn’t tell you about all the horrific things that happened here until after you signed the deed. If you had known this place was haunted, even if it’s not, you never would have bought it.

Sadly, all your money and savings are now tied into this home. James says not to worry, that there’s nothing wrong with the place. But he’s always been a cynic and he’s never really believed in anything so miraculous as ghosts. Besides, he’s the type of guy to argue with you until he’s purple in the face that the sky is red when he’s in a mood.

There’s no talking him out of this. And you can’t begin your newlywed life arguing with your husband about the place you just made your forever home. Anyways, it’s not like you’ve noticed anything bad yet.

The camera is mainly a joke to mess with James and make yourself feel better about the whole thing. You’ll turn it off tonight, be done with it, and hopefully get over this irrational fear of yours.

12 AM

You spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth with water. You’ve noticed a strange metallic taste with all the unfiltered sinks. You're worried you might have to call a plumber or someone to check it out. You don’t want to get lead poisoning your first night here.

You freeze, still bent over the sink, and your jaw snaps shut. Eyes are boring into the back of your head, hateful and angry. It’s not James, you would know if it was. This is something different, the hair on the back of your neck is standing up, goosebumps rolling up and down your arms. There’s a rush of cool air, like something running past you, and your head shoots up in surprise.

You scream when you see James in the mirror’s reflection. He jumps back in shock, lowering the camera and giving you an exasperated look. A second ago you’d been completely alone and he’d been downstairs, where the fuck did he come from?

“What the hell, James?” You wipe your mouth off with the back of your hand and whirl around on him. He glares at you, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction.

“Talk about an overreaction. What the hell is your problem?” He snaps, taking that tone with you that you know means you have to be careful. You don’t feel like getting into another fight with him. Especially not tonight.

“You scared me,” you trail off into an awkward laugh, hoping to ease up the mood a little. He slams the camera down on the counter. Your shoulders jump and you flinch back from him slightly. “What’re you doing with the camera?” You ask, glancing down at the lens and frowning. You spot the red blinking light and realize he’s still recording, your brows furrow in confusion.

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” His tone is short and you huff in disappointment. You hadn’t realized something as small as a little scare would piss him off. You used to be good at reading his moods. Since the wedding, though, he seems to have just gotten more and more unpredictable.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling over the floor as you kick your legs. You hate how tall the damn bed frame is, you have a horrible paranoia that something’s going to grab you one day and yank you under. James, of course, had just laughed when you told him this and then bought it. He thought it was funny, that it would help you overcome your fears.

You still have goosebumps from earlier, the same breeze from before tickles the pads of your feet. You glance down with wide eyes, yanking your legs into your chest and scooting back from the edge. James flips the lights off in the bathroom and walks to the end of the bed. He’s dragged out the tripod and has got it pointed at the bed.

You tilt your head with a coy smile, “Planning on having some fun tonight?”

He glances between you and the camera, a confused furrow between his brows. You scoff out a laugh as the realization dawns over him. “If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind some after-dark fun.” You roll your eyes and tug the covers over your legs. He leaves the camera and crawls on the bed towards you. “But that’s not what it's for.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over his shoulder and then turn back to him with an odd look. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into the supernatural junk?” You tuck your head into his chest, letting him pull you closer as he flips the lamp off. “You’re supposed to keep me tethered to reality, remember?” You tease, looking up at him.

He glances down at you and shrugs. “The lady did say the master bedroom is the worst, I’m just curious if we’ll catch anything.”

You shoot the camera a concerned look and shake your head. “I hope not,” you mutter. You snuggle in closer to him, trying to dismiss the feeling of someone watching you. You’re sure it’s just from the camera being on you. Besides, you always get too deep in your head about this stuff.

3 AM

You shoot up in bed, chest heaving as you stare down at your feet. James shifts behind you, grumbling as he flips over and steals the rest of the blankets.

Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest as you simply sit there, staring at the end of the bed. You pause, holding your breath like the room might tell you its secrets.

You’re normally a heavy sleeper, not even a fire would get you up. But something just did, you were ripped violently from your slumber. You almost want to dismiss it as an incredibly vivid nightmare. Yet, you can’t ignore the throbbing, almost freezing pain, that’s shooting up and down your left calf.

The muscle is spasming sporadically and you can still feel the phantom touch of someone squeezing your leg. Your hip is sore from where you’d been dragged down. You’ve had pretty vivid dreams before. You’ve woken up with your feet sore like you’d been running, or your muscles cramped from twitching around so much. But this is a lot.

You take in a deep breath, slowly pulling your legs into your chest. You slump over your bent knees, hoping to catch your breath and settle your racing mind. It’s impossible to ignore how cold your leg feels, you feel like you’re losing blood circulation. You can’t just go back to sleep with it like this, you’re gonna have to go downstairs and get James’ heat pack.

You’re seriously starting to lose feeling in it now. You’re wondering if something didn’t drag you and maybe you’ve got a blood clot screwing your circulation up somehow. Hundreds of different possibilities race through your mind, each more worrying than the last. You can't sit up all night scaring yourself, you’re just gonna have to suck it up.

You briefly consider waking James up so you don’t have to go downstairs alone. You hate how those stairs look in the dark, you feel like something is standing at the end, waiting to reach through the banister and drag you down. A ghost, however, sounds more inviting than making James grumpy before he has to go in for work tomorrow morning.

With a heavy sigh, you force yourself off the bed and blindly grope through the dark for the wall. Your left leg is practically dead weight as you drag it behind you. Your hands skate along the dusty walls and you grimace, making a mental note to dust tomorrow.

You’re trying to take it slow, to squint out as many shapes in the dark as you can. It’s nearly impossible to tell when you’re going to hit the stairs. You can only pray that you don’t go toppling headfirst down them.

Slowly, you inch your toes forward and curl them around the edge of the step. From there it’s a long, arduous process of just trying to get down the stairs. It feels as though with each step you take, the house only grows darker.

You wished you had taken the risk and turned the lights on. The feeling of eyes following you only gets worse as you finally reach the kitchen. The further you get from the bedroom, the worse your leg begins to throb. You can only be happy that you still feel it at all.

Your hand skates along the wall until you feel the cool plastic of the light switch. As harsh as it is against the linoleum, it’s a stark relief from being all alone in the dark. You dig around in the moving boxes until you find James' heating pad. You toss it in the microwave and pull yourself on the counter, drumming your fingers while you wait for it to warm up.

He hates you. He hates that you live in his house. He hates that she’s gone. Bette, he’ll miss her, the way the old woman’s face would screw up in terror always brought a sick satisfaction to him.

You press the warm pad to your leg and hiss through your teeth as feeling begins returning to your calf. He has to admit, he hadn’t meant to grab you quite so hard. He just wanted one good scare, to either get you out of here or show you who's in charge. Your leg has turned an odd color in the shape of his handprint and it makes his lips curl up.

There’s a loud ringing from upstairs. It grates on his already frayed nerves and makes anger roll off of him in violent, tangible waves. Your nose twitches, your face screwing up as you look around. There’s a suspicious glint in your eye, one your little husband doesn’t share with you.

He has to admit, you’re smart enough to realize the truth of your situation, at least. Your husband doesn’t share the same characteristic. He seems alarmingly self-assured, not that he minds, those are his favorite types to break.

He can hear upstairs, better than you would ever hope to. He listens as your husband picks up the phone, quietly yelling at someone on the other end. A woman, if the timbre is anything to go by. They both sound incredibly angry. He’s not interested in listening to something as trivial as this.

He turns away from you and moves towards the stairs. He pauses at the base of them, glancing over his shoulder and really taking you in. You look so small, curled up on the counter with the look of a frightened child.

You scream as the lightbulb above you explodes, plunging you into complete darkness. He smiles to himself, drifting up the stairs and lingering at the end of your bed. Your husband’s head shoots up in alarm and he pulls the phone away from his ear.

The name Martha lingers on the small screen before he quickly flips it off and rushes out of bed. He blows right through the man at the end of his bed, flipping on the lights and racing down the stairs. He calls out your name, voice frantic and bordering on paranoia.

He hadn’t thought you two would get scared quite so quickly. He’d been hoping to enjoy this a bit more. Perhaps he should slow down, and savor the long fall into madness before he claims you both. He hovers at the top of the stairs, watching as your husband comforts you.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep you quiet and get you to calm down. From a distance, he could almost be the perfect husband. But that look is all too familiar, he’s seen it a hundred times before. It’s only now that he recognizes it for what it is. There is no love in your husband’s gaze, only the fear that you’ll find out his little secret.

He goes back into the bedroom, swipes the phone off the nightstand, and retreats into the shadows.

“Don’t,” you slap James’ hands away from you, glaring at him. He purses his lips, huffing out a sharp breath and taking a step back. Anger brews under your skin, warms you up, and makes your jaw ache from how hard you’re clenching down.

“How can you say I made it up?” You shout, no longer caring how loud you are. Your voice cracks at the end as you take on a shrill pitch. You yank up the leg of your yoga pants, shoving your leg towards him.

Not only has the skin dipped in the perfect shape of a hand, but it’s also turned into an unnatural shade of green and purple. It’s like no bruise or injury you’ve ever had before. James looks down at the mark like it’s a bug to be squashed or a pile of dog shit he just stepped in.

He fixes you with a sneer and shoves it away from him. You let out a harsh breath and stumble slightly into the counter. “Would you quit fucking showing me that? It’s freaking me out.”

You throw your hands up in the air, giving him an eat-shit look. “How do you think I feel? It happened to me.”

He shakes his head and turns towards the coffee pot, pouring himself another mug. You can’t believe how dismissive he’s being about this whole thing. You have indisputable proof burned into your flesh, and he’s completely ignoring your worries.

“We need to get you to the doctor, okay?” He shakes his head, giving you the look of a disapproving parent, rather than the supportive husband he’s supposed to be. He hadn’t even been worried for you last night, just mad that you’d woken him up for nothing.

“It’s probably a blood clot, not a damn poltergeist.”

“James-” His phone ringing cuts you off, and your eyes narrow in disbelief as he reaches for it. It’s closer to you on the counter so you snatch it up before he can grab it.

“What are you doing?” He demands, taking on a concerningly low tone.

“We’re going to talk about this, you’re not getting out of this one, James!”

He whispers your name in a voice you haven’t heard before. His face is dark, brows set in determination as he slowly extends his hand. “Give me my phone.”

You glance at the Nokia and then back at him. The fear that’s been ever-present since last night turns into something else. Anxiety and suspicion make a wicked and nauseating brew in your stomach. “Why?” You whisper, eyes narrowing on him as he takes a step closer. You stumble a step back, holding the phone out of his reach.

You feel your hand tremble with its vibrations before it begins to ring again. You look towards it just as James lunges forward. His shoulder nearly barrels into you as he grabs your wrist. His grip is so tight you almost feel the bones creaking together. “James!” You gasp, the phone tumbling from your palm and into his hand. He shoves you back, tucking it in his pocket and glaring at you.

“Don’t touch my phone,” you open your mouth to argue and he takes a large step forward. His foot slams against the ground and you flinch back from him, eyes wide in surprise. “Do you understand me,” he demands, slowly and his voice low.

You nod, your jaw gaping as you stare at him. He runs a hand through his hair, refusing to meet your eye now. Dark strands fall onto his forehead and he looks more disheveled than you’ve seen him in a long while.

He looks at his watch and clenches his eyes shut. He pauses, taking in a deep breath as he straightens his tie and rounds the kitchen island. “What are you doing?” You ask, your voice so quiet you’re surprised he even hears it.

“Going to work,” he snaps. You can’t look at him, you just keep your eyes glued to the floor as the door slams shut. You hold your breath until you hear the car going down the driveway. Ever so slowly, you peel yourself away from the counter.

Your hand drifts, without thinking, to the imprints on your wrist. “What the fuck,” you mutter, a stunned sort of silence taking over. You can’t help but just stand there, completely dumbfounded by how quickly a simple argument escalated.

He’s always had a shorter temper than most, but that was extreme. A door slams upstairs and you scream, leaping forward and whirling towards the noise. “What the fuck!” You shout again, stumbling towards the knife block behind you. You can hear footsteps running upstairs and swallow around a ball of fear sinking in your throat.

You almost call out ‘whos there,’ but that’s a little too stupid for you. You’re not planning on being the bimbo who dies first in every horror movie. As much as James likes to tease you for being a little simple sometimes, you are equipped with basic survival skills.

You look towards the coffee maker, the port where your home phone should be is empty. You rush towards the windows, glancing out the driveway and cursing when you find it empty. You were hoping that James might still be in his car, steaming before he comes back in to apologize. But, no, he’s really gone.

Another door slams and it feels a little petty. Despite the way your heart races and you’re struggling to catch your breath, you don’t feel like you’re in any immediate danger. The looming presence that hung over you last night is gone. James had dismissed the lightbulb exploding as an old house and bad lighting.

You know better, despite the claims otherwise, and you sincerely doubt that there’s an actual person upstairs. And whatever it is, was smart enough to steal your phone. You slink towards the end of the stairs, just barely craning your neck so you can see into your bedroom. Except the door isn’t open like you left it.

Light comes through the crack of the closed door. You take a tentative step up, eyes squinting as you try and get a glimpse under the door. A shadow darts past, like rushing footsteps. You gasp, leaping back and covering your mouth with trembling hands.

The hair on the back of your neck stands, and the loose hairs from your braids blow across your cheeks, tickling your sensitive skin. Old vents, that’s what James told you. His attempt to explain the inexplicable breeze that seems to be following you everywhere you go. You’re bundled head to toe in fuzzy socks, warm pants, and a too-big sweatshirt. And still, you feel your fingers nearly go numb and you can barely feel your nose anymore.

That’s not a poor AC system. And those aren’t feet under your door. You’re so focused on simply watching the movements under the door that you completely forget anything else. You’re blind and deaf as you watch whatever is moving about in your room. A loud clank breaks through the silence and you nearly scream.

Your bones almost jump out of your skin as the ice machine starts going and rattles up the old fridge. You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath and glaring at the white machine. “Fuck me,” you mutter, holding your chest and just barely calming yourself down.

You’ve only been here a night, you shouldn’t be so fucking terrified. You’re ready to just go out into the backyard and wait the rest of the day for James to come back. If you could drive off, you would. But you’ve only got one working car right now and he’s taken it to work. You move to grab your laptop off the couch when something creaks behind you.

Old hinges cry out as they’re slowly forced to work. The sound of steps going down the stairs occupies the space behind you. You can’t find the bravery to turn around, too scared to see what might be there. Something ice cold passes through you. It nearly feels like a violation, as though something was rooting through your insides like it belonged there. It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds but it was more than enough to have you nearly vomiting up your scarce breakfast.

The moment it’s over you feel yourself calming down. As though an instinctual intuition has been activated, you know the danger’s passed. Whatever it had been trying to accomplish with that little show, it did it.

You turn back to your room, the lights off and the door open, looking just as you left it. You glance over your shoulder, looking into the kitchen before starting up the stairs. You give a hesitant peek into the room like you expect it to be a wreck. But it looks spotless, the camera is in the same place James left it, still recording.

You file that away in the back of your mind. Maybe the camera picked up what happened last night, or maybe James is right. You really are just getting too far into your head. A shrill ringing goes off near James nightstand and you frown. Your phone buzzes on his side of the bed, MOM lighting up the square screen.

You let out a short huff, quickly snatching your phone and answering. Maybe she can talk some sense into you, or, more preferably, come over to keep you company. “Hey mom,” you answer, smiling slightly to yourself. It’s been a little while since you’ve been able to talk to her. James had banned phones after the honeymoon and then you’d gotten caught up in house stuff, jobs, and the aftermath of the wedding ‘incident.’

An older voice than you’d been expecting answers on the other end, saying your name in a confused tone. Your brows furrow and you frown, “Mrs. Barnes?”

“Honey,” she sounds strained, like she really hadn’t been expecting you to answer. James must have taken your phone by accident. It makes sense, they’re both the same model, but you put a little pink charm on your Nokia so you’d stop making this mistake. Yet, when you look to your left, you see your charm lying on your nightstand. When had you taken that off?

“Where’s James?”

“Um,” you’re still a little thrown off by her voice and take a second to answer. “Work, I think he took the wrong phone,” you laugh a little, disconcerted that it’s not your mother’s comforting voice.

“Must have,” she answers, she sounds like she’s a million miles away, her tone distant. “Well, um, just tell him to call me back.”

“Alright,” you hesitate, concerned by how off she sounds. “Is everything alright?” You know things have been tough for her since her husband passed on. James’ sisters have been helping her adjust, but the wedding had taken him away from his family for a little while. He hasn’t actually shown any signs of wanting to reach out and it makes you feel guilty, like you’re keeping him away from her.

Mrs. Barnes, a living saint you swear, has been nothing but kind as she welcomes you into her family. This is the first time she’s ever been so distant to you. You act more like her family than James does nowadays.

“Has, uh,” she coughs, clearing her throat. You can almost hear what sounds like Francesca on the other end, hollering at her. The sound of James’ older sister’s voice makes you smile a little wider. “Has James said anything to you?”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head in confusion, even if she can’t see you. “About what?”

“Oh, crumbs,” she huffs and you have a feeling whatever she was about to say was important, but someone is snatching the phone away before you can hear the rest of it. You’d been so focused on her voice that you hadn’t even heard James come back in.

He glares down at the phone, face pale and eyes wide like he’s expecting something horrific. When he places it to his ear and hears his mom’s voice, his shoulders slump in relief. You narrow your eyes at him, disoriented by the strange behavior.

“Mom,” he interrupts her rudely, “I’ll call you later. Okay?” He hangs up before she can answer. He tugs your phone out of his pocket and tosses it next to you on the bed. “Answering my phone now? What are you, my secretary?”

You slip your phone into your back pocket, not looking at him as you get off the bed. “I thought it was mine. I think my charm broke off.” You put some distance between the two of you, glancing down at his phone and then back at him. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

He flinches like you’ve just accused him of something far worse than being overly protective of his phone. “I don’t like you digging around in my phone. That’s a problem now?” You open your mouth to argue, but he just keeps going, cutting you off, “You’re so goddamn paranoid. First the ghost, now this,” he gestures vaguely at you and you scoff, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

You two are devolving far quicker than he had anticipated. It must have been a fragile relationship, to begin with. James slams the door and you slump down on the bed, you almost look like you want to cry.

He goes down the stairs, watching through the window as your husband lingers on the front porch. He calls someone, his mom, and starts yelling at her as he gets to his car. Looking away from the window, he sighs.

He’d been close, if James hadn’t come home he probably could have pushed you over the edge immediately. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or happy that his game gets to go on a little longer.

You come back down the stairs, eyes rimmed red and shoulders slumped in defeat. You brush through him, not even noticing the chill he leaves behind in you. You have the camera in your hand and a cord in the other. He grins, excited to finally have you see the truth of what happened last night.

You plug the camera into your laptop, scrubbing through the footage of last night. He leans over your shoulder and watches as goosebumps rise along your skin. You sigh, tugging a blanket over your shoulders, but he knows that won’t do anything to help you.

Nothing will unless you leave. But your husband has made it clear that you’re not getting out of here until he has actual proof anything supernatural lurks inside these haunted walls. Right here, in your lap, you have your proof. A phantom wind blows up the sheets of the bed, an unexplainable tug of your leg that drags you halfway down the bed. It’s violent and he almost feels sorry, he really hadn’t meant to hurt you, only scare you.

His fingers drift over your leg and you jump, whirling around, wide eyes looking right through him. He can’t help but admire the way fear makes them shine. You’re quite pretty when you’re terrified, he couldn’t say the same for the hag that used to live here.

You’re slow to turn back to the computer, but when you do, there’s a slight curve to your lips that he appreciates. “I fucking knew it,” you whisper, slamming the screen closed and getting to your feet.

You’re giddy, he can taste the satisfaction overpowering the fear. You round the couch, taking in a deep breath and shaking out your arms. Your face sets in determination and you start working on clearing out the moving boxes.

He doesn’t feel the urge to mess with you any further. He leaves you in peace, lounging in your armchair and watching you work. He’s got a nice surprise worked up for you tonight, no need to take today’s playtime any further.

You’re efficient, only occasionally getting distracted as you smile at pictures of your wedding day. You put those up on the mantle, beside some family photos. It’s clear how much you value your familial bonds, even your husbands. You put it front and center in the home, reminding him of how it once looked.

There’s a stark sense of deja vu as he watches you work, a nauseating feeling of what could have been. He can practically taste the newlywed bliss you’re going through. Even with your husband being a piece of work, you still value him, love him. He’d once known that love, hell, he’d reveled in it.

But the curtain always has to come down. The magic’s never real. He’s doing you a favor by showing you the truth of it all. His gaze drifts away from you cooking dinner and he looks towards the pictures on the mantle.

James’ mother reminds him of his own. He always wondered what happened to her, what her life was like after he was gone. Neither of them ever got what they wanted. She died wondering what happened to her only son, and he died without getting to say goodbye.

He thinks of Bette, and feels that familiar white-hot rush of anger, your scream comes a moment later. He glances towards you, confused, before he follows your eyes and sees that he’s accidentally shattered the frames of the pictures.

You gasp, sucking in shallow breaths as you stumble into the counter, brows furrowed in terror. He clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath, and tamps down on the anger overwhelming him.

The door opens and your socked feet go rushing towards it, you nearly slip on the hardwoods, arms spinning wildly as you right yourself. James flinches away from your frantic hands as you grab his jacket and drag him inside. “The fucking pictures,” you stutter out your words and point frantically towards the mantle.

James grimaces, tugging at your hands and looking towards him. He doesn’t see him, of course he doesn’t. But he does see his little accident. James scoffs, face screwing up in anger, he turns towards you. His face is set like a disappointed parent. “You broke them? Our wedding pictures, seriously. All because of a stupid fight?”

He jerks away from you, storming towards the glass and kicking at it. “You didn’t even clean it up,” he says your name, tone increasing in anger. You stare at him, disbelieving and open-mouthed.

He sits back on the armchair, thoroughly amused. He hadn’t even had to do anything to turn him against you. Your sweet James has just been waiting for a reason to get mad. “This is fucking petty, even for you.”

“What, James,” you stumble over your words, taking a hesitant step towards him. He thinks you’re pretty when you’re scared, but not like this. He doesn’t appreciate the way you approach your husband like he’s a rabid dog. You shouldn’t be scared of him, not yet at least. He hasn’t even had his fun with him yet.

“It wasn’t me, I swear-”

“Not this ghost shit again, seriously-”

“I have proof!” You shout, your voice is desperate as you try and make yourself louder than him. You run towards your laptop, and ignore the burning smell coming from the oven. He gets up, drifting towards it and turning it off before either of you can notice. No point in having the house burn down. Where would that leave him?

You plug the camera in, turning the screen towards him. James doesn’t make a move yet, simply glaring at you like you’re a bug to be swatted. “Please,” you beg, pathetic and needy. He huffs, rolling his eyes as he watches you both. It’s all so familiar to him, he feels like he’s watching his unfortunate disaster of a marriage play out through you.

You scrub through the times, cussing as you pass over the clip of you getting dragged. There’s a frantic look in your eye as you hit play. It almost makes him feel bad for what’s about to happen.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” James snaps.

Your face falls and you move the mouse forward and back, looking like a madwoman as you try to find the right moment. You won’t, he made sure of that. Nothing but static plays when you get to the parts that would prove your innocence.

James tugs at his tie, shaking his head in disappointment. “Not only did you fuck up all our pictures, you didn’t even have dinner ready.” He shoves past you, heading up the stairs and muttering to himself. He pulls out his phone, lingering on a contact he shouldn’t before pressing call.

You stay still in the living room, looking at the shattered glass and then the oven. “I made your favorite,” you whisper. You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing hard as you kneel down to try and pick up the remnants of your wedding photos.

3 AM

He sits on the bed, glancing towards the blinking red light of the camera. There’s a clear wall between you and your husband, even if neither of you wants to acknowledge it. You lay curled up in yourself, like a child afraid to seek comfort. He pities you, truly.

He remembers the happiness of youth, the rush of being married to the person you believe is the love of your life. He will never forget the pain of realizing the person you’ve given everything to turning into someone you don’t recognize.

His hand drifts over the swell of your cheek. Your lashes flutter, nose wrinkling at the cold brush of his touch. But you don’t flinch away from him, instead leaning into him and looking almost happy by his touch.

He looks to your husband, eyes narrowing on his relaxed form. He sees the phone lying near him and his face sets in determination. He’s not going to let you fall into the same trap he did. And he certainly isn’t about to let another soul cramp the already stuffy walls of his home.

It’s been quiet around the house. Less strange events and more strained dinners between you and your husband. You’ve taken to bringing the camera everywhere with you. But anytime a light bulb explodes or a frame topples over, the video goes static.

You should have given up the hunt for evidence but you can’t give it up. You just need James to see, you need him to believe you. Or, at the very least, you need some assurance that you’re not going crazy. You’ve begun to consider the possibility.

The bruise on your leg is gone, the constant chills that rack you are still very much present, but there’s nothing else. Everything that happens can be explained by the age of the house. You’ve only briefly discussed it with James’ sisters. Elizabeth gave you the number of a medium she knows.

James had gotten angry when he found the business card after her visit. He didn’t like her filling your head with more nonsense and indulging you. You didn’t like how dismissive he was. It’s been a few days since the fight and you still have no desire to reconcile with him.

It’s becoming easier to simply ignore his presence around the house. You know it’s not healthy. You’ve only just begun the marriage, you don’t need to have communication issues tainting it before it’s even on its legs.

Still, it’s as though something’s keeping you from him. Every attempt at speaking with him is interrupted, thoughts of apologizing just to placate him are struck from your head quicker than they come.

You stand up from the kitchen table, placing your pictures to the side. You’ve finally gotten new frames for them all, you only need to put them back up. You have no problems putting up the family pictures. Yet, the moment you make to grab the wedding picture of you and James, you grow inexplicably tired.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you sway on your feet. Your bones grow heavy like you’ve been working all day. But you’ve only been up a few hours, and you had so much more to do today. You try and fight forward, leaning on the table and reaching for the portrait again. You almost feel like you’re nudged back, moved towards the couch.

A short nap, you promise yourself. Just long enough to get your energy back.

He followed him to work. That’s never happened before. He’s never been able to follow someone out of the house. He tried, with Steve, he tried to make every aspect of his life hell. But he couldn’t.

Yet, with this one, he has no problem following him. Maybe it’s the odd resemblance they have. A haircut and a shave, they could be identical twins. But then again, he hasn’t seen his face in a long while, perhaps he’s misremembering it.

It’s difficult to maintain this control. Half of him lingers in the house, with you, the other half is here. He’s being drawn closer to James and further from you. He doesn’t know if that’s conducive or an interruption to his plans.

He only vaguely sees you, in his mind’s eye. He leads you to the couch, lays you down, and keeps you away from the reminders of James. He’s gotten good at keeping you both separated. It was easy to begin with, all he’s doing is showing you the truth of the man you married. If only he could really show you.

James phone rings and he focuses on him once more. It’s Martha again. He hasn’t figured out the truth of their relationship, he’s sure he already knows it. He’s lived this life once, knows the truth of why a husband would act like this. The late-night calls, the constant misdirection of anger.

He’s paranoid, terrified you’ll find out the truth. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. The perfect housewife at home, and the mistress who fulfills his every desire. At least, that’s his theory. He still needs to be completely sure.

He ignores James, focusing once more on his connection to the house. He finds you right where he left you, deep in your sleep and completely oblivious to the world around you. He kneels before you, sweeping some hair off your cheeks and tilting his head as he takes in your restful face.

You look so peaceful when you’re like this, a slight curl to your lips as you wander through dreamland. He wished he could keep you like this, wished he could completely get rid of James. But without him, you wouldn’t be able to keep the house. You’d leave it, leave him. He can’t have that. He’s been lonely for so long, he needs you, craves you.

6 PM

“How was work?”

“Fine.”

Chewing fills the cavernous silence of your dining room. Forks scrape across porcelain, shallow breaths as you both dance around the tension that threatens to tie a noose around your marriage. You reach for your wine, hoping for another heady swallow. Just like before, you’re dissuaded from it.

You grow tired at the thought of drowning your sorrows in the alcohol for another night. You clench your eyes shut and take a deep breath, moving the glass away from you and turning back to the roast you made.

James’ brows furrow as he watches you. “Everything alright?”

You hum, “Tired.” He scoffs and your face falls flat. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he cuts more aggressively into the meat. "Something wrong?” You demand, sucking on your teeth as you anticipate his answer. You’re sure it’s going to be the same broken record he’s been playing since the honeymoon.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, tone dismissive. He pauses, taking a deep breath before laughing sardonically. “It’s just funny.” You hate how he does this, drags out his answers, and forces you to take the bait.

You’re not playing this game of his tonight. You won’t do it again. You can’t keep going in circles with him, can’t keep indulging him in these childish tantrums. He waits, eyebrows raised and pretty blue eyes boring into yours, demanding attention.

Those damn eyes. You wish he was just a little uglier, maybe then you wouldn’t have been so blind to how fucking awful he really is. You almost resent his mother and sisters for this. They could have warned you off, told you the horror stories of his past before the wedding. Instead, they’d warned you after it was too late and your entire life was entangled in his.

“I work all day, come home, want a peaceful meal. What do I get?”

He falls silent again and you let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, James,” you drawl, bored of this already. Your patience for him is practically nonexistent nowadays. You used to be able to endure these conversations with him, or at the very least soothe him. But you’re tired of feeling like a babysitter and not the wife you’re supposed to be. “What do you get? A homecooked meal, a clean house, someone to come home to. Tell me,” you demand, slamming your hand on the table and surprising him. “What the fuck do you get?”

“A nagging fucking wife who does jack shit all day and complains about being tired! I work for us, so you can stay home and live out your little housewife fantasies!”

Your jaw drops and you suck in a sharp breath. You can’t even form words, nearly laughing at the audacity and ridiculousness of what he’s saying. “Oh my god,” you can only scoff, shaking your head and leaning back in your chair. You smile and roll your eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He stands, leaning on the table and trying to make himself bigger than he is. It only paints him in a more pathetic light.

You cut him off before he can say anything else, scooping up your plate and storming into the kitchen. “You’re the one who insisted I quit my job. You,” you turn and gesture towards him, a disgusted sneer on your face, “wanted a fucking housewife. I was just the dumbass that listened to you. You have no right to throw that in my face. You wanted this, James!”

“Yeah, well,” for a moment you think he’s speechless. His jaw opens and closes, nothing but air leaving his parted lips. You should know better by now, he’s always got some bullshit to spew. “I didn’t think you’d be so incompetent at this.”

You drop the plate in the sink, leaning on it for support and closing your eyes. You take in deep breaths, trying to cool down the heat racing under your skin. Your blood’s pumping so hard you’re surprised a vein hasn’t burst yet.

“Fuck this,” you push off the sink, shoving past him and moving towards the front door.

“What are you doing?” He demands, watching as you grab your coat and your keys.

“Going for a walk,” you tell him shortly, slamming the door behind you. You just need some time away from him, away from the suffocating shadow that seems to linger behind him all the time now.

You pull the business card Elizabeth had given you and dial the number. You don’t know if this anger is coming from whatever the hell lives in that house or if this was always coming. But you’re not going to just roll over and let this thing ruin your marriage.

7 PM

You’re out for an hour. He’s upset the entire time. He wants to drive James’ head into the corner of the counter over and over again until there’s nothing left but unidentifiable mush. It’s the same fight he used to have. It always started over something so stupid, he could never say anything right.

No matter how many times he thought he finally figured Bette out. Every time he thought he had avoided some trigger for her, a new one formed. It didn’t matter how perfect of a husband he was, he would never be enough because he wasn't him. He wasn’t Steve, the man who could do no wrong in her eyes.

He stands in the corner and watches as James paces for a while before he finally leaves, taking his keys and his phone. He takes the car and leaves you stranded here at the house.

He knows that James could fix the car sitting idle in the garage. He could fix the car. It’s just another way of keeping you under control. James gets to decide when and where you get to go out, you don’t get a say.

You seem relieved, though, when you come back and see James gone. You’re happier without your husband, it’s both good and bad. He needs you to resent James, needs you to hate him. But that could prove tricky for him in the future.

“Thank you so much,” you’re on the phone, you’ve got something lumpy in your jacket. One hand lays under the buttons of your coat, stroking idly. “Yeah, Thursday sounds great. Thank you, again, for coming on such late notice.”

You hang up, placing your keys and phone in the bowl by the door. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” You open your jacket, revealing a bundle of matted, dirty fur underneath. Somewhere in all that mess is the scrunched face of a pissed-off cat.

You coo to it, stroking its head and ignoring the fact it looks like it wants to rip your hand off. You bring it to the kitchen sink and he watches as you take the next few hours to wash its wounds and properly groom it.

He never cared much for cats, or any animals, really. He never had the time or the energy to try and take care of something other than Bette. She was practically a full-time job to cater to. But he enjoys how peaceful you look being able to take care of the cat. He enjoys how much sympathy you display, even as the little bastard rips and tears at your pretty skin.

He looms over your shoulder, stroking his phantom fingers over the cat's wet fur. It’s enough to scare it into submission. Its claws release your skin and it shrinks back into your hold. He grins, backing away and leaving you to it.

You frown down at the cat, murmuring soothing words to it as you look around the kitchen. Sometimes he thinks you see him, thinks you can truly see through all the walls and witness what’s left of the man he was. He knows it's foolish, a ridiculous hope.

You’ll never be able to see him. Even if you could, you would only think of him as a tormentor. He was a blight on your home and marriage, why would you ever care about him?

3 AM

You feel eyes on you. Not the unfamiliar eyes you’ve been feeling, you know these. Intimately. You stir from your light sleep, squinting through the dark. Minimal light comes in through the blinds, but it's just enough for you to see the figure standing beside you.

You gasp, flinching away from James. He just stands over you, glaring down at where you slept. Eyes devoid of anything. “James?” You whisper. Alpine, the cat you snagged from a neighbor’s dumpster, leaps off the bed.

She hisses at James, skirting around him and running out of the room. Your brows furrow in confusion. You look back to James, muttering his name again. He gasps like he was dragged out of a coma.

He stumbles on his feet, tripping over them and nearly nosediving into the bed. You instinctively steady him, guiding him onto the bed beside you. “What are you doing?” You hiss at him, holding his face in your hands and looking him over for any explanation of what was just happening.

You’ve never even heard him talk in his sleep. Let alone, sleep with his eyes wide open and staring at you. It was beyond disturbing. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes, they’re soft as he looks at you. Soft in a way they haven’t been for a long time.

His hand comes up to cup yours, the other almost hesitantly running across your cheek. “James?” You ask again, caught off guard by the odd display of affection.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. You’re ninety percent sure you’re still dreaming, he’s never apologized first before. It’s always been you to broker the peace. You’ll sacrifice being right if it means he’ll stop giving you the cold shoulder, he’s never done the same.

You try to ask him what he’s talking about, but he’s surging forward before you can speak. His lips are chapped, dryer than you’re used to. He doesn’t give you much time to process anything. His hands drift to your waist, dragging you into his lap as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You’re taken aback by the taste of metal on his tongue. It’s coppery and bitter, not at all like the mint toothpaste you both use.

He’s not kissing you like you’re used to. He’s not trying to devour you or suffocate you by shoving his tongue as far as it goes down your throat. This is gentle, sweet. It feels like you’re being savored, not claimed. You don’t mind it, in fact, it would be nice if you weren’t so disturbed.

He’s not acting like himself, he barely looks like he should, and he tastes wrong. This isn’t your husband kissing you. You want to pull away, you try to. But his fingers are digging into your waist and your lips are firmly locked. You can feel the chill of his hands through your pajamas. They’re like icicles, you’re sure there’s going to be a mark from them in the morning.

“James,” you manage to mutter, pulling away from him just enough to catch your breath. “What’s,” you trail off, tongue growing too heavy to speak. Your words slur together, become one nonsensical jumble stuck in your throat.

He shakes his head, biting his lip and slowly lowering you back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” You narrow your eyes, you have barely enough energy to shake your head in confusion. Your lips part to ask another question. He leans down, pressing one last gentle kiss to you before your eyes roll back and you’re asleep again.

“I told you I have it handled,” James practically pouts as he sits in your armchair. You used to use it to crochet, it’s got the best view of the backyard and you like to watch the bunnies that live under the porch. But more and more, he stays there. Every second he’s home, he seems to live in that chair.

Bette had given it to you with the house. You hadn’t really thought anything of it, but with how he’s been acting lately, you can’t help but wonder if its’ connected to whatever secrets live in these walls. Most people would be haunted and their husbands would get worse, you seem to be experiencing the opposite.

He’s kinder, he’s bringing you flowers and cooking you breakfast. You’re woken up with praise and gentle kisses. Then he’s back to normal by lunchtime. He’s miserable at dinner, only to wake you up in the middle of the night with saccharine apologies. You’re so sick and tired of living in this whirlwind of love and misery. You just want some goddamn answers.

You need to know the truth of what’s happening to you. Is this just how James is? Is this the house? Is there even anything wrong with the house?

You’re hoping the medium will be able to answer that for you today. Mystic Wanda, the name doesn’t give you much hope but Elizabeth told you she’s one of the best.

Alpine runs against your legs and James glowers at her. “I told you I wanted her out of here.”

“Tough,” you respond bluntly, eyes trained on the front door. He’d thrown a hissy fit when he saw her the morning after your weird make-out session. You hadn’t bent, though, and you know he’s still upset you’re no longer blindly giving into his whims.

The doorbell rings and you leap off the couch, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. Wanda’s eyes widen in amusement and she smiles at your eagerness. “Please, come in, and thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

You usher her inside, offering to take her jacket. She passes it to you, eyeing the interior of your home and giving you an appeasing smile. “Well, Elizabeth is a good friend of mine, she told me you were having an emergency and I wanted to help.”

James scoffs from the armchair and she glances over at him with a bemused look. You glare at him over her shoulder. “James, I presume?”

“Oh,” his eyes widen in faux amazement, “did you divine that?”

Her eyebrows raise and you know she’s unimpressed. “I could tell from the attitude. Your sister warned me you were a cynic.”

He mutters a bitter, “Whatever,” under his breath and goes back to ignoring her.

“I’m sorry about him,” you take her by the elbow, guiding her into the kitchen and away from him. You peer over into the living room, ensuring he can’t hear you. Wanda waits expectantly for you to begin speaking.

“He’s why I wanted you to come.” You tell her, fiddling idly with your wedding band. “He’s not himself lately.”

“More volatile?” She guesses and you shake your head, laughing bitterly to yourself.

“Less, actually. But he’s unpredictable. I never know when he’s going to be this sweet stranger or the miserable man I’ve grown used to.”

Her brows twitch and a confused smile graces her lips. “Most people aren’t upset when their husband gets better.”

“I know it’s odd,” you admit, sighing and looking down at the countertop. “But, I just need to know I’m not going crazy. I’ve been dragging this around everywhere,” you push your camera towards her. “Every time something happens, the feed cuts out. I’ve been dragged down my bed, harassed, made to think I’m losing my mind.”

You run a rough hand over your face, feeling the aches of this whole experience settle wearily along your bones. “I just need some clarity. That’s all.”

“Well,” she reaches for your hand, squeezing it in hers and giving you a comforting smile. “I can certainly help with that.”

Wanda sits in the armchair, having booted James out of it. He seems a little bit more cognizant as he sits beside you, a little more scared. You keep a wary eye on him while Wanda closes her eyes and “connects” with the house, as she put it.

She breaks the silence abruptly and it makes you jump. “This chair came with the house?” You nod silently but you have a feeling she already knew the answer. She hums, running her hand along the arm of it.

“It was his before it was stolen by the man he called friend. He lives in it, watches you from it.” You feel your heart racing, panic steadily rising within you. It’s like a physical caress, the fear trailing down your spine. “He wants something, too many things,” she sighs and shakes her head, frustration playing along her fine features. “It’s hard to discern the truth of it all.”

“But he’s real?” You cut in, imploring her to tell you what you’re desperate to hear.

She gives you a resigned smile, but there’s no happiness in it. “I’m afraid so.” She shouldn’t be so apologetic, this is all you wanted. To know you weren’t crazy, to have James hear it too. But when you look to him for some satisfactory celebration, his face is slack.

“James?”

Wanda leaps up from the chair, taking a step towards him. Your husband is gone, any sign of awareness or thought is completely gone. He looks devoid of life, like he’s been a living corpse for weeks. “James?” You call again, voice threatening to break.

His jaw snaps shut and you jump back, rushing off the couch and stumbling towards Wanda. She grabs you, tugging you behind her, and takes in a deep inhale. “It’s him,” she whispers, eyes wide with fear. “I’ve never encountered one so strong before.”

You glance at her and then back at James. There’s fury playing on his features, and again, those eyes you don’t recognize yet somehow feel familiar. “I think you should leave,” he demands, his voice low.

It isn’t the normal way he commands you. This is a threat, a complete assurance of power. James stands up in one fluid motion, stalking toward Wanda. She goes stiff before you and you worry she’s going to go slack the same way James did.

“Now,” he tells her, eyebrows raised with impatience.

“James, she can help,” you try. His head whips toward yours and you flinch away from the intense look he gives you.

“We don’t need her help,” he whispers your name and it almost sounds like he’s pleading with you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, you glance between Wanda and James, unsure which to follow.

Wanda shakes her head as you take a step back from her. James’ shoulders slump with relief. “Don’t do this,” Wanda warns. “I won’t be able to come back here again. He’s growing stronger, you’ll be beyond anyone’s help soon-”

She's cut off as the light bulb above you explodes. You scream, moving instinctively towards your husband. His arms eagerly wrap around you, drawing you into his gentle hold. He runs a hand over your back and you almost miss the quiet apology he mutters into your hair.

“Leave,” James doesn’t have to tell her again. She practically runs to the door, nearly forgetting her coat as she rushes out. You slump against him, somehow feeling defeated even after getting what you wanted.

“Doll?” He peers down at you, pulling back slightly to get a better look. “Are you okay?”

You stare into eyes you know don’t belong to your husband and force yourself to nod. You let this stranger hold you close and ignore the sinking weight of guilt. He feels so much better than James ever did and you hate yourself for thinking that.

Your husband is in there somewhere, being tormented by some malevolent spirit, and you’re letting him do what he wants to you. Playing house with him like everything’s normal. “Come on, let's go outside.”

You can’t do anything except listen to him. In the back of your mind, you think about how odd it is that he’s showing himself now. He usually waits until later in the day.

How sick is it, you have a schedule for when your husband will be possessed?

He leads you to the back porch, to the rocking chairs that were there when you moved in. but he doesn’t let you sit in one. No, he guides you down onto his lap, keeping you close as you get yourself comfortable.

James isn’t like this. He doesn’t let you love him like this. Your touch practically repulses him nowadays. But he can’t seem to get enough of you now. Holding onto you like he might not get to again.

“Wanda said he was growing stronger,” you mutter absentmindly. He goes tense under you, but he doesn’t yell at you or get mad. He just squeezes your hand in his, idly tracing shapes over your palm.

“I was thinking of planting some rosebushes,” he tells you, completely brushing over what you said.

“I thought you wanted to rip the garden out and build a pool,” you tell him bitterly. The neighborhood has its own pool. You’ve been begging James to keep the old lady’s flowers in the back but he won’t have it.

Now, miraculously, he’s giving in to your whims. You don’t know if you should be happy or disgusted. You’re sitting on the lap of something that isn’t your husband anymore. You don’t feel like you can trust your mind anymore. You struggle to differentiate between your dreams and reality.

He laughs a little, brushing some hair out of your face and smiling at you. It’s not the smile you fell in love with, or the eyes you fell in love with, but you can feel yourself falling. Or, maybe, you’re just desperate for someone to be kind to you. For someone to love you the way a husband should love his wife.

“I want you to be happy, Doll.” James doesn’t call you Doll.

“Maybe some gardenias too,” you lean back into his chest, letting yourself get more comfortable.

You feel his smile against your skin, he turns his nose to nuzzle against your cheek, planting a kiss there. “I’ll buy the seeds tomorrow.” You nod absentmindedly, trying to settle the way your stomach flips.

3 AM

“James!” You scream his name, leaping onto his side of the bed and holding onto him as tight as you can. He shoots up, grabbing you and turning you to face him.

“What?” He demands, face pale with worry.

You frown, glaring at him, “You didn’t hear that?” The bedroom door slams closed and you scream again, curling into his hold.

“Holy shit!” He shouts, he tries to hold onto you but something grabs his leg. The same way you’d been dragged the first night, he’s pulled out of bed. You scream his name, the bedroom door flies open, and watch as he’s dragged into the hall.

You leap over the bed, feet tangled in the sheets as you lunge towards the door. He’s screaming, primal sounds of nothing but pure terror ripping through the house. You pound on the locked door, tearing at the knob until you think you might rip it off.

“James! Please!” You sob against the wood, slamming your shoulder into it until it cracks. Pain shoots down to your elbow and you flinch back, “Fuck,” the screams go quiet on the other side of the door and your eyes widen.

“James!” You screech, your fists pound against the door until you feel the skin crack and blood dribble down your arms. Something cool brushes against your neck, like a breath. “Stop,” you plead, “stop it, give him back.”

The door swings outward, the wrong way, and you wonder how the hinges don’t break. The only light on is the linen closet. The same closest that you know has a scuttlehole. You don’t think, just run towards it. Your bare feet pound against the hardwood, shaking the whole house in your race for the door.

You burst through, nearly stumbling facefirst into the ladder. You clench your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms as you look up to see the scuttle hole already open and beckoning you forward.

Blood trails up the ladder and you could almost cry seeing it. You can’t waste time, can’t dawdle. You don’t know what happened to James but you know it’s not good that he’s quiet. You force yourself up the rickety ladder, pulling yourself into the attic and looking around for any signs of life.

You didn’t realize how much junk the old lady had left behind in the house. But the attic is chock full of her past. Dusty and browned filing boxes litter old antique tables. Wardrobes, trunks of clothes from the fifties. A mannequin with an unfinished dress. There’s an entire life up here, one she seemed to have just willingly left behind.

You frown down at something that really draws your eye, a box with a scrawled B.B. on the side. The light’s on, but it's dim and only illuminates the box. Still, you try and squint through the dark to find James. There’s no sign of him anywhere, you can’t help but wonder what the trail of blood on the ladder was.

You lean down and pick up the box. “What’re you doing?”

You scream, your throat going sore from how much you seem to be doing that tonight. James is on the ladder behind you, a dazed look on his face as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head in confusion, trying to calm your heart from the adrenaline rush that was ten minutes earlier.

These are different eyes. This isn’t him. Your gaze darts back to the box and you pass it to him. “Take that,” you demand. He doesn’t question you, if anything it seems to make him happy. He drops it down the ladder and holds his hand out to help you down.

You take it, hissing at how cold his hands are. He only gives you another eerie smirk. Once you’re steady and on the ground, you back slowly out into the hallway. “What happened earlier?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

Your face drops and you scoff, “You were fucking dragged down the hall and I got locked in the bedroom. You weren’t sleepwaking, James.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and flips the lights off. You’re plunged into darkness, a slight whimper ripping its way out of your throat. You’re forced to rely on his guidance as he leads you down the hall. “You’re tired, Doll, we should just go to bed.”

You think back to the box, waiting for you in the closet. There’s no arguing with him, though. You’ll have to deal with it tomorrow morning. You can only pray that you’re not awoken so violently again.

“Sweetheart,” you mumble tiredly, swatting blindly at the voice. There’s a low chuckle, and then the familiar press of lips against your forehead. “Wake up, I’ve gotta go soon.”

You’re slow to open your eyes, just barely making out James’ blurry shape. “James,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes to try and force them to focus on his form. “What’re you doing?” You asked, words slurring together.

He places a tray down on the nightstand and the smells of coffee and pancakes break your dazed trance. You sit up straighter in bed, giving him a confused look. Two years of dating, and a few months of marriage, not once has he greeted you with breakfast in bed.

“James?” you question, he only shakes his head, darting forward to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut and you find yourself leaning into the touch. It doesn’t take long for it to grow heated, his chilled hands drifting under your shirt and tugging you towards him.

You’re finding it easier and easier to simply give in to his whims. Your legs spread over his and you melt into his hold like you were made to fit against him. “Shit, Doll,” he huffs against your parted lips, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you. His lips are a pretty pink, swollen, and glistening from your kisses. You almost want to bite them.

You hold back the urge, leaning back and giving him a small smile. It’s enough to make his whole face light up. “You know how badly I want to stay in bed with you today?” You almost invite him to, but the foggy cloud of an abrupt wake-up finally parts.

You remember the box from last night, what you need to do today. So, you pull back from him, his arms releasing you reluctantly. It’s so peculiar, how his metal hand is warmer than the flesh one. “Going to work?”

He hums, eyes narrowing in on you suspiciously. You reach for the coffee and take a sip, exactly how you like it. It’s pathetic that your suspicion grows because you know your husband doesn’t know how you take your coffee.

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him, and it’s the first time you haven’t had to force the words out to appease him. It almost feels genuine this time. He gives you a resigned smile, kissing your cheek and leaning back.

He pets Alpine, stroking down her smooth white fur and smiling at her too. “I’ll see you both later,” he tells you, a promise. You bite your lip and nod. His footsteps echo down the stairs and you leap off the bed, the abrupt move scaring the life out of Alpine. She growls in discontent and stalks off. The door closes and you run to the window, watching the driveway to make sure he’s gone for sure.

You race into the hall, throwing the closet door open and dragging the dusty box out. Mildew and mold cling to it, but you don’t have time to be concerned with germs. You need answers. You take it downstairs, toss it on the kitchen table, and forget all about your breakfast upstairs.

It’s odd, how much cozier the house has become. Sunlight streams through the windows and warms your seats and couches. You no longer feel eyes in the shadows. A creak is just a creak. It’s like your fear has just been snatched from you.

The thought is enough to unsettle you, but you ignore it for now. You’ll worry about that another day. You toss the lid of the file box inside and what greets you only further irritates you. Piles of unorganized papers and pictures, each of the more faded by time than the other.

You pluck out the first one you see and nearly gasp. It’s James, but not James. A picture of a WWII soldier, in his uniform and posing in front of an army vehicle. He looks just like your husband, but his eyes crinkle a little more when he smiles, his happiness palpable through the picture. He’s even got a prosthetic arm.

You flip the picture over, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, is written out in pretty cursive. Directly under it is 1942. You drop the picture, taking a few steps back and shaking your head. “No, no, nope,” you shake your head, simply ignoring the truth that lay in front of you.

Somewhere out there, there’s an alternative version of your husband who was a WWII veteran and apparently lived in this house. Same fucking name and everything. “Oh, fuck me, this is insane.” You glare at the box, not wanting to believe anything you’re seeing.

How could your life have devolved into this shitfest, just because you moved into one fucking house? How could one crappy ad in the newspaper have completely turned your life upside down and thrown you into the twilight zone?

You throw yourself into a chair, slumping over the wooden table and taking in grounding breaths. You wanted the truth, you’re going to get it. Even if none of it makes any sense. The next few pictures you grab are all in the same sepia tint. One of him standing in front of the garden, another before a truck, even one in the goddamn armchair currently sitting in your living room. And in each one, he looks as happy as can be. But there’s something nearly artificial in his smile.

You look at the pictures on your mantle and frown. You can’t exactly judge him. You’ve got the same smile in all your pictures too. Just slightly off, something about it slightly forced for the sake of the person beside you.

You find one of him with a very unhappy-looking woman. She’s pretty, even if she does look a little wicked, and she also looks remarkably like you. What bizzaro world is this? She’s nearly identical to you, but she looks goddamn miserable. A hulking blond man has his arm slung around Bucky, fingers just barely grazing the woman’s shoulder.

You flip it over and find, Bette, Bucky & Steve at the new house, 1950. Bette, the woman who sold you the house. Who told you what nursing home her kids were sticking her in. You leap up from the table, running to grab your coat and racing out of the house.

Bucky glances down at James' phone and grins. He pulls the car into the apartment complex and picks up the call, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” The woman on the other end demands sharply.

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and fighting back the spirit surging within him. His left hand twitches without his permission and his eyes narrow in frustration. James was easy enough to subdue last night. He was caught off guard, terrified.

Now, he’s pissed off and fighting. Bucky doesn’t appreciate the efforts to take control. “I just pulled in. I’ll be up in a minute.” He shuts the phone off and jerks the rearview mirror to face him. The eyes that stare back at him are not his own.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” James demands, spitting the words out like he has any sort of power over Bucky.

Bucky grins, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

James’ face falls and his eyes widen with worry. “What does that mean?” Bucky flips the mirror back in place, glancing up to the third-story apartment where Martha waits for him. He turns the engine off, slowly exits the car, and makes his way up the stairs.

He’s sure to take his time, enjoying how James grows more and more terrified. It only feeds him, makes him stronger, and grants him more control over him. He’s getting better at controlling him, finally had enough strength to fully take over last night.

Before, he only had the energy to take over the body for a few hours, at most. But the longer he held influence over James, the further his influence spread. Soon, he could leave the house, without having to use James’ body as an anchor. He’s evolved past anchors and the brick walls that once contained him. He only had one last loose end before he could be with you fully.

He knocked on the red door, waiting for Martha to answer. It didn’t take long. She threw the door open, face screwed up with rage. “Look who came back. I told you that little bitch of yours wouldn’t be good enough for you.”

Bucky kept the look on his face serene. He tried not to show the rage that raced through him at her grating tone. He wanted to rip her tongue out and choke her with it. He wished he could pluck out her eyeballs and serve them to her on a silver platter. A million different ways came to him as he stepped into her apartment.

“Hello, Martha.”

“Thanks for seeing me, Bette.”

Bette kept her hands in her lap, picking at the wrinkles of her skin. “It’s grown so thin,” she looked at you, seeing straight through you. “I used to be like you, so pretty, so young.”

Your face screws up in discomfort and you nod dismissively. “You know why I want to talk.”

Bette sighs and clicks her tongue. “Oh, Bucky,” she says his name forlornly, playing the perfect mourning lover. But you know better, she doesn’t mean a damn bit of her grief.

“Drop it,” you snap, looking around to make sure no nurses are watching. The white sterile walls of the nursing home loom over you. Bette’s eyes snap towards you, the thin film of dementia disappears and she slumps into her chair.

“Fine. Dammit, what the hell do you want? You already took my house.”

“Yeah, and your damn ghost. I want some fucking answers, Bette.”

She chuckles, the noise bitter and her expression cruel. “You know, you remind me a lot of Bucky. Got that same kicked puppy look to you that makes me want to smack you around.” Despite your best intentions of remaining passive, you feel your heart twinge in sympathy for Bucky.

Bette’s got the same bitter look in her eye that James used to. You don’t see much of it anymore. Strange how much your life has changed in just over two weeks. “I thought he’d see you and finally move on. He’d finally get his damn revenge on me, I mean you look just like me.”

You can’t help but agree with her. You slip the picture out of your purse and put it on the table before you. “I saw,” you mutter, glancing down at the uncanny resemblance between you both. “I want to know what happened, Bette. I want to know why he’s stuck in my walls, why he’s stuck in my husband,” you add.

Her eyes widen and her jaw gapes. “He’s got your husband?” You nod and you’re caught off guard when she begins to cackle. “God, even dead he’s still the same pathetic, snivelling bastard he used to be.”

You can’t help but get angry, you almost want to defend him. Sure, he’s tormented you, but clearly, he had a reason to be bitter about having to look at your face all the damn time. You’d go crazy too if this was the bitch you were married to.

“Bette,” you warn, voice low.

She huffs and snatches the picture. “No harm in telling you, I suppose.” She gives you a wicked grin, “No one will believe you anyway.”

“I met Bucky when I was young, too young. We got married because he was getting shipped off to war. He wanted someone to write letters to, to come home to, and I figured he’d die before I ever saw him again. I could cash in on widow’s benefits. Then the son of a bitch had to go and get honorably discharged for getting his arm blown off.”

Your brows furrow in disgust. You’ve never seen such an evil old woman before. You pray you don’t turn into a wicked old hag like her when you get older. “Steve, his best friend, was discharged around the same time as him. Came to live with us for a while so he could get his life in order.”

Bette glares at you and tosses the picture back to you. You catch it before it slides off the table and she keeps going. “See, some women weren’t as loyal as I was. His lady moved on real fast, left him lonely and looking for a warm place to sleep at night. Bucky, well, he just wasn’t a man. He obeyed me like a little bitch and took every hit I gave him because he thought he deserved it. Steve never did that, always put me in my place. He was a man,” she hisses out the word and you have the sudden urge to slap her.

“One thing led to another, we were in love and Bucky was in the way. We got rid of him, what else do you want me to say?”

You can’t even figure out where to begin. She’s fucking despicable. Not only did she not love him, he was utterly devoted to her and she fucked his best friend. Killed him to be with him. Despite this overload of information, only one question comes to you.

“Where did you bury him?”

5 PM

You let out a loud grunt, sweat pouring down your back as you bring the sledgehammer into the brick wall. There’s a loud crack and you pause, taking a step back. A moment later a brick slips out of its place. It doesn’t take much longer for the others to follow.

There’s a loud crash as it all comes tumbling down, decades of dust and debris float into the air. It drifts down your nose and creeps into your lungs. You drop the sledgehammer to the cement of the basement with a clatter. You kneel over, waving the dust away and trying to cough it out.

Something rolls against the floor, something hollow that clatters against your shoe. You glance down, stunned into silence as a gaping skull stares back up at you. You stumble away from it, nearly kicking it back, and trip right into the warm chest of your husband.

Bucky stares down at you, his face blank and devoid of anything you might be able to read. “You talked to Bette?”

You nod mutely, taking a step back from him. You wince as your heel comes down on something that cracks under your weight. You try to look down, to see what bone you’ve just broken, but he stops you. He grabs your chin, tilting your face towards him and forcing you to meet his eyes. “What are you going to do?” He demands, he tries to sound strong, but you can hear the fear that trembles under the cool tone.

Rest In Peace

Husband, Brother, Friend

James Buchanan Barnes

“It’s a bit morbid isn’t it?” You peer up at him and shake your head.

“No, he deserves a proper burial.” You place the flowers on top of the fresh grave and stand. You take a few steps back and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “You, I mean. I just feel like your memory deserves its rightful resting place.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and you squeeze his hand. “You think Steve’s in here somewhere?”

You scoff and feel yourself growing angry on his behalf. “He deserves to rot under a bridge somewhere, along with that bitch.”

Bucky laughs pulling back from you and giving you a wide smile. It’s genuine, the first genuine smile you’ve seen on his face in a long time. “Thank you,” he mutters. You shrug, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m your wife, I’m supposed to have your back.” You reach up, pushing a wave back behind his ear. He’s finally let his hair grow out again. He complains it gets in his eyes when he tries to garden, but you love how it looks on him so he keeps it.

His face lights up, the same way it always does when you say you’re his wife. You interlace your fingers together, pulling him away from his grave and back towards the car. You’re supposed to meet Mrs. Barnes soon, you’re having Thanksgiving dinner at your house tomorrow so the whole family can finally see it.

Since the discovery of Bucky’s bones and the literal skeleton in the house's closet, you’ve kept family members away from you both for a while. It was a long adjustment period, getting used to the truth and each other. Accepting the fact that James was gone for good wasn’t as hard a pill to swallow as it should have been.

You have a theory that you both were meant to be with each other, either in the forties or today. Something got messed up in the universe’s timeline and instead, you got James and he got Bette. This paranormal experience must have just been fate’s way of cleaning up what it had ruined so horribly.

You look up at Bucky, the way his eyes crinkle even when he’s not smiling, and feel something warm spreading through your chest. You don't mind the cold fingers and chilling touch at night when it’s him you’re sharing it with.

You place the turkey down in front of Bucky and he sends you a blissful smile. You can’t help but lean over the back of his chair and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. Janey gags, tossing a roll at her older brother. “Quit it, would you, I’d like to have an appetite.”

You chuckle, taking your seat beside him. Bucky can’t help but want to cry. This is what he’s wanted for so long. His family back, the woman he loves to love him back. It’s what he begged for. The loss of it all had turned him into this bitter, malevolent spirit.

As much as he’d like to say he regrets or feels guilt for what he did to Bette, Steve, Martha, and James, he can’t. He tormented Steve until he died of a terror-induced heart attack at fifty. He’d driven poor Bette into the nursing home where her children would let her rot for the rest of her miserable life. Martha won’t be heard from again.

And James, poor James. He must have had the worst fate of them all. It’s been a while since he’s heard anything from James. He searches for him now, his tiny presence lingering somewhere in the back of his mind.

Bucky takes your hand, looks at his sisters and mother, and smiles at them. He raises his glass for a toast, slapping at James until he’s forced out of his slumber. Look, he thinks, speaking of all he’s grateful for to you and the other women. They know, he feels James looking through his eyes.

He sees the way his family smiles at Bucky, and how much happier they look with him. They know, he tells James, they know I’m not you. James pounds futilely against Bucky’s walls. He screams and sobs, begging for you to help him.

They don’t want you, James. They know that the world is better without you. He lets James linger in his misery, he savors his despair, lets it energize him, and then tosses him back to the abyss. James goes quietly, he gave up fighting a while ago.

It wouldn’t matter anyway. His brief period of rebellion has fed Bucky enough to keep him subdued for the rest of his life. You squeeze his hand, “I love you,” you whisper, passing him the sweet potatoes.

He smiles back at you and repeats the same words he’s already said a hundred times to you. This is at it always should have been. Steve, Bette, and James were all stepping stones to get him to you. He wasn’t going to let you go now.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Marvel (Winter Soldier), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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