#Perfect Eye Care in Houston

[hardlyinteresting]

Nobody's son. Nobody's daughter.

Jake Seresin x Reader

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events. Perhaps he's found someone who knows exactly how it feels to masquerade.

Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey Wondering Why by The Red Clay Strays Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift Moodboard for this fic

Warnings: If you know me in real life do not read this, The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, fake dating-ish, rich people, smut (oral m+f receiving), (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please) Word Count: 6.5K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

Champagne bubbles sparkle as another perfunctory conversation fizzles into more ostensible laughter. Jake stands idle, nodding and responding with an easygoing politeness when required, while scanning the room for his uncle. He's always had little patience for people feigning interest in the lives of others, or masquerading in curated caricatures of intriguing lives. His eyes have never cared to be distracted by the glitter of diamonds, or the flash of gold wristwatches. Taking another sip of his drink he finds himself rather bored in this room of pretenders. 

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Horses were kept for hobby riding rather than ranching; lush green land without a cow in sight; and a backyard swimming pool. As he got older his presence was requested at their swanky cocktail parties. He was rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. His military career has become a talking point for his relatives and he feels the eyes of the room on him wherever he floats through the grand house. “Your uncle is proud of you,” his mother always insists her brother means the best, “your grandfather was a pilot too, you know. It's in your blood”.  Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events. 

Setting his empty glass down on a tray Jake is determined to find his uncle and make an excuse to leave early. As somewhat expected his uncle Robert is chatting with his business partner, Mr Bell. From what Jake can remember from previous encounters, he's a nice enough man, but he can only hope he's not dragged into more small talk before he manages to escape. It’s the Bells who are hosting tonight’s cocktail party, and Jake accepts that an early excusal might not be possible.

 Beside the two older gentlemen stands a young woman. She's gorgeous standing by the glow of the fireplace. He finds his feet moving him in their direction before he has a moment to consider what he might say when he gets there. Immediately, she reminds him of some kind of goddess. It's silly, childish even. But still, he can't help it. Curves highlighted and hidden in the same artful drapes of deep cherry silk of her dress. Her eyes shimmer like focused jewels as she follows the conversation happening next to her. Her shoulders relaxed in an easy elegant posture. He entertains the idea of a world where a man like him might paint her likeness on his aircraft. Comforted by her calm demeanour, and perpetual in awe of her stunning features. 

“Jake,” his uncle waves him over, “you remember my friend George Bell”. 

“Mister Bell,” Jake greets with a handshake, “it's nice to see you again. Thank you for inviting me tonight, sir”.His posture is perfect as the older man nods and claps him on the shoulder. “I believe you were just about twelve the last time you were here. You’ll have to join me in the library later for a drink”. He has no interest in staying any longer than he has to, but a glass of whiskey from a bottle worth a month of his salary, and a round of pool may serve to soften the obligation of his presence. “Yes, sir,” he accepts, and then his attention shifts entirely to her. 

He’s seen this young woman in photographs and painted portraits throughout the house, though he’s certain now the images do her no justice. He’s bold to assume her identity, and it will surely bite him in the ass if he’s wrong, but he feels certain she must be Mr. Bell’s daughter, and he greets her accordingly, “Miss Bell”.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” she smiles, “it's a pleasure to meet you”. He shouldn't be so pleased that she knows who he is, but he finds himself pushing out his chest with pride. “The pleasure is all mine,” he assures her. Her smile grows, a fantastically playful glint in her eyes that tells him she's excited to be speaking to someone she considers to be a peer. “Then it's an honour,” she insists, “if half the stories I've been told are true, you're very accomplished, Lieutenant”. 

In most scenarios like this, Jake has gotten good at walking the line between exaggeration and faux modesty, any attempt to shift the conversation away from himself, yet today she allows her to tease him. “Call me Jake, please”.

“Only if you insist”.

“I do,” he says, urging some level of familiarity to grow between them as they're both dragged into another round of bromidic small talk. 

He endures the conversation about the weather, and fields questions about what the temperatures are in California at this time of year. He gracefully sidesteps conversations about his job, and his politics, artfully avoiding escalating discussions as easily as he had mastered lag pursuit maneuvers in his first year of flight school. With each opportunity to make her laugh he manages to succeed, only fueling his desire to do it again. 

It's too soon that she's called away to speak with a group of women across the room. He kicks himself for not engaging her in more direct conversation, and wonders if the stolen glances, and the subtle wink he'd shot her way were enough to convey his interest. It's stupid, like a middle school crush, and he knows he couldn't have just asked her out in front of her father and his uncle. He’d hate to look untoward in their company. But, the missed opportunity burns nonetheless. 

An entirely unexpected fortuity is all but handed to him on a silver platter when he's asked to join Mr. Bell for a game of pool in the library. The older man pours him a generous glass of scotch before speaking. 

“I have a favour to ask you, Jake”. 

“I'm happy to help if can, sir,” Jake responds easily, though he can't help but find himself growing nervous by the prospect and any potential implications. He briefly envisions himself, ending up as muscle for hire, taking out an unsavoury business associate, his dreams of becoming an admiral slashed as he ends up on the wrong side of the wrong people. 

His anxieties are quickly replaced by absolute surprise at the words Mr. Bell speaks next, 

“I'd like for you to escort my daughter to the theatre this weekend,” there's an unexpected vulnerability as he continues, “My wife and I will be out of town, and since her engagement was called off she worries that people will talk-- you know how it is”.

In all honesty, Jake cannot say he does know how it is, but he can imagine. His aunt had been talking about some young woman of some kind of societal importance who had been jilted weeks before her wedding. He hadn't been paying attention at the time, far more interested in the apple pie he was eating and the football game on TV. From what he can recall rumours were running wild, but no one had the full story. He understands now that Bell's daughter must be the woman his aunt was talking about. Without knowing her, he had felt sorry for her. But pity is now replaced by deference. He finds himself more in awe of how she managed to walk the rooms this evening with her head held high, knowing what people must be whispering about her behind her back. He understands that a pastime and patronage she clearly enjoys has been jeopardized by the possibility of having to attend alone, but he worries that his presence, and lack of regard for certain expectations and niceties may hinder more than it helps. 

“I've never been to the theatre before, sir. I'm not sure I would be the best escort”. 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Bell stops him, “you're a good man. Dress well. Pick her up. Watch the play. Drive her home”. There's no room for argument or debate, and the truth is that despite the odd, and somewhat unfortunate circumstances Jake finds a selfish little part of himself chuffed by the opportunity to take the dreamy girl out for a night. 

“Come around six o’clock you can park your truck here, and ask Steven in the Garage for the keys to the Benz. I'm going to assume you can drive manual”. Jake easily accepts the new instructions, raising his glass in the sign of a toast before the two of them begin their billiards game as if no conversation had passed between them. 

Saturday comes around in what feels like the blink of an eye. Jake makes sure his slacks, blazer, and button-up are pressed and his shoes are polished ready for the night out. After some debate on what to wear, his choice is ultimately decided by the lack of options hanging in the closet of the guest bedroom at his aunt and uncle's house. He'd learned years ago not to visit without at least two sets of slacks and jackets, but had never considered that he might have an occasion to truly worry over the outfit he's putting on. He's eager to make a good impression, but worries he'll look like he's trying too hard; keenly aware that this evening he's not just representing himself. He will also be purporting to assume responsibility for the social reputation of a woman who has already been unfairly judged and derided.

He showers and combs his hair before slipping into charcoal grey pants and jacket. He fastens the cuffs of his white shirt with onyx cufflinks borrowed from his uncle. He's conservative with the application of his aftershave, conscious of the fact he's attending a society function, not a nightclub happy hour. He's certain either way that her opinion of him could not be swayed by a whiff of Tom Ford cologne. 

At the Bell residence, Jake retrieves the keys to the Mercedes. A stunning mid-century model painted in oxblood red, so perfectly polished he can see his reflection staring back at him. Keys in hand he rings the doorbell and waits patiently. Through the door, the faintest tip tap of high heels echoes in the grand foyer. The sound is followed shortly after by a  small clatter and a hardly muffled “shit!” Jake grins ear to ear, barely containing a laugh when the door swings open. 

“Lieutenant,” she greets.

“Jake,” he insists.

“Jake,” she corrects herself. 

“Shall we?”

She nods, shutting the door behind her, a small clutch purse in one hand. He offers his arm to her. If she notices him flexing she doesn't say anything, but his cheeks flush as he reminds himself he's not flirting with some tag chaser at The Hard Deck. Cheap come-ons are worth anything here. She won't end the night in his bed. This isn't even a date, it's a favour to her father. 

She ignores the gentlemanly offer of his arm, and all but skips down the stone steps towards the driveway leaving him to stare dumbfounded. 

“Let's go!” She calls to him, walking backwards to the waiting car.

She's dressed in a dress made of black velvet today. It flares out at her waist and ends at a conservative length. But her back is exposed and he tries to stop his eyes from tracing the plunging neckline. With stockings and her towering heels, she manages to make bourgeois sexy. 

“You look lovely. That's a nice dress” he tells her when he catches up. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, “it has pockets!” Her free hand immediately finds the hidden pouch to demonstrate. His smile graces his face, and his earlier anxieties about expectations and decorum quiet themselves as he watches her open the car door for herself quickly making herself comfortable. 

There's a casual air to her demeanour he hadn't expected. Their communication at the cocktail party earlier in the week had led him to believe that she was not as prim as the circumstances expected her to be. Her teasing tone and her eyes searching the room for more stimulating conversation told him she had been holding back, and putting up appearances. He had no reason to believe that tonight would be any different. 

A few minutes down the road she leans forward to turn on the radio, the local country station playing at a low volume. 

“Your dad must like me,” he attempts to joke. 

“I like you,” she says, her eyes looking out the passenger side window. 

“Well sure, what's not to like,” he smirks, “but your dad leant me a nineteen fifties Benz” 

“I leant you a nineteen sixties Benz,” her correction leaves him with his brows furrowed. 

“This is your car?” 

She doesn't turn her attention to him but responds, “Birthday gift”. 

He feels it, the achy routine gratitude. The compunction that comes from being forced to save face and feign grace; saying thank you for something you never asked for. There's a hollowness that accompanies the realization that this chunk of your life is not your own, and worse, wondering if you could do any better even if it were. Incidentally, he's familiar with a similar gut-churning shame. The weight of undeserved praise and misplaced guilt have often pulled at his ribs. He loses sleep each time they pin a medal on his chest; when the ends don't seem to justify the means, and he can't tip the scales enough in his favour to win a restful sleep at night. It's never enough. 

“It's a fantastic car,” he tells her honestly, “you have excellent taste”. 

“Thank you”. 

He hears his fears and scruples in her quiet sigh before the words escape her.  He knows the echo of apology in a simple thank you as well as he knows his name. Silence settles between them again. 

At the theatre, she stays seated in the car until he comes around and opens the door to offer his hand. With fluid, graceful movements she steps out of the vehicle and he passes the keys to a waiting valet. Jake matches her walking pace noting the way she slows as she makes her way closer to the entrance of the theatre. Her back straightens and she makes a concentrated effort to paint a smile. Gone is the easygoing woman he picked up; replaced by an edited version. He has no choice but to respect the way she's managed the transition with such poise. Her hand rests in the crook of his arm their footsteps falling in time. “What are we seeing this evening?” He asks her with genuine interest. 

“Much Ado About Nothing,” she tells him in a measured tone though he notices the sparkle in her eye, “it's a comedy”. 

“One of my favourite Shakespeare plays”. 

She smiles broadly, “And here I was thinking you were just an accomplished pilot”. 

He shrugs, “I accidentally joined the drama club in high school”. He's blessed with a surprisingly unrestrained burst of laughter. He laughs too. 

Massive wooden doors with ornate stained glass panels open into a grand foyer of floor-to-ceiling marble. Columns carved with care and precision line the walk to the grand staircase. Overhead a mural is painted on the smooth plaster. Pastel depictions of cherubs and florals surround the massive crystal chandeliers that light the hall. He feels out of place, the shoulders of his jacket suddenly feel too tight, and he wonders if anyone can tell he should have had it tailored. He breathes deeply determined to stop any ounce of his discomfort from showing as her hold on his bicep grows tighter the further into the crowd they move. 

As a pilot, he has to be good at evaluating scenarios and making decisions. He doesn't overthink it, he just does what feels right. He straightens his arm dropping her hand from the crook of his elbow and intertwines their fingers. If she's shocked by the adjustment she doesn't let it show. “Trust me?” He whispers. She nods her breath leaving her in laboured puffs, each one easier than the last as they glide through the room and towards the private box the Bells have reserved for generations. 

“Are you alright?” He dares to ask when they're on their own in the quiet of the balcony. 

She nods, releasing his hand in favour of taking her seat. “Yes, I apologize,” she tells him, “I saw my fiancés family-- it startled me more than I anticipated”.

He shrugs, “Nothing to apologize for. The only thing worse than running into your ex is running into your Ex’s mom”. 

A sliver of joy peaks through, the slightest spark of good humour returning to her eyes. No tears gather, but he can see the genuine sorrow fighting to make its way to the surface. He's happy to help her combat it. “What did he do anyway?” 

She scoffs, “As if you haven't heard to rumours”. 

“I've heard the rumours but I'd rather know the truth”. 

He watches as she studies him, seemingly determined to root out any dishonesty. He lets her weigh his worthiness and steels himself to the reality that while he may be far more well-intentioned than most people she knows, he's not a very good man. He's sure she knows that. He knows her eyes see straight through him. 

Her eyes avoid his as she speaks misplaced shame wraps around her like a shroud, “I found out from members of my mother's church group that he had called off the engagement. I was apparently one of the last people to know”. The statement lands heavy but she continues anyway, “I never truly got any explanation besides a list of my faults”. 

“He's an idiot,” Jake is quick to interject. He's certain she has her flaws, who doesn't? But the idea that a clever, witty, honest, thoughtful, and beautiful woman such as herself could fail to measure up to some arbitrary, antiquated or otherwise acceptable standards baffles him.

“Worst of all, I don't think I'm lacking in any capacity. I think, maybe, I was just too much for him. Too excitable. Too interested in the politics of business to keep my mouth shut--too outspoken to be his wife in any case”. 

What hurts more he wonders; going through hell to pull yourself up to snuff, or cutting away pieces of yourself to fit a mold. “Then maybe he wasn't meant to be your husband,” the advice comes easy and he prays he sounds like he's offering comfort. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her hand reaching for his with a shaken reach. He's more than happy to provide the support. 

The room shifts when the lights dim. The crowd goes silent, and for a moment before the stage curtain raises Jake can swear he hears his heartbeat. There's an intimacy that demands to be felt, and it grows between them. Her hand resting just above his knee, his arm stretched across the back of her chair. It's casual and as comfortable as possible despite the layers of clothing he's afraid he's sweating through. He watches her more than he watches the play, turning away with a flinch each time she looks his way. Her laughter is infectious, and he leans in closer to hear it over the guffawing of the audience below. 

As the show continues, any cohesive thought running through his mind is halted as she begins to draw soft circles on his thigh with her thumb. The pattern is uneven and irregular enough that he manages to write the action off as mindless fidgeting. He doesn't dare to allow himself to believe that it could be an unceremoniously daring attempt at flirtation. In the short time he's known her, he has learned to consider her to be a person of deliberate and careful action. He doesn’t think she would trifle or toy with any kind of advance; insouciant or serious. 

The lights come up again, soft music filling the theatre as intermission begins. She's no longer touching him. Their private bubble seems to burst as the chatter of other patrons fills the space. The affinity they had built in the dark hangs suspended, waiting just beyond their reaches. Neither of them mentions it. 

“Should we go get a drink?” He extends the invitation half hoping it doesn't sound like he's making a pass at her, half praying that it does. He hedges his bets on her answer; prepared to sit in silence for the 30-minute break if that's what she wants. He's shocked when she says, “I thought you'd never ask”. 

Jewelry sparkles beneath the light of equally bejeweled chandeliers, and gilded sconces. The toes of polished shoes make Jake think he's never shined a show in his life. Years of keeping his uniforms in pristine condition don't compare to the easygoing luxury of brand-new Italian patent leather. An order of two scotches on ice (the lady’s choice) runs him the same as a round of drinks at The Hard Deck would. The scotch doesn't taste any better here than it does when Penny pours it back in San Diego, but he holds his tongue for the sake of appearances. It's odd, he'll admit, standing in a crowd not identified by his rank or achievements, and yet being judged for nothing more than a projected image of inherited class. Like an ant beneath a microscope; so small, and insignificant, but under such scrutiny from the giants around him. His confidence waivers and for the second time this evening he believes he was correct when he told Mr. Bell that he may not be up to the task of escort. 

She smells like vanilla, honey, and now whiskey as she leans into his side. Her hand slipping into his own again calls him to attention as her countenance shifts; cool and calculated. He lifts his chin, and scans the room, his empty glass abandoned at the bar. 

“Miss Bell!” An older woman calls as she approaches, her hands outstretched in an overly saccharine greeting. 

“Hello, Mrs Calhoun,” she manages through partially gritted teeth accepting the uncomfortable hug the woman forces upon her. 

“I wasn't expecting you tonight,” Mrs Calhoun says, no attention spared for Jake, her focus clearly set on weeding out some kind of scandalous revelations, or calaminious scuttle to pass along to her waiting group of equally interested gossips. Growing up in Texas, Jake was well aware of how quickly news moved traveled down the clothesline-- dirty laundry aired for the whole community to chatter about. But the idle talk his mama and the neighbours shared feels so innocent compared to the chronicles passed amongst the Houston elites at cocktail parties, and theatre intermissions it seems. 

“you've been so antisocial since the wedding was called off, i do hope you've been taking care of yourself”. 

“I've been busy,” she responds quickly to Mrs Calhoun’s jab, hesitating before adding, “your son seemed quite embarrassed by the whole affair, I thought it best to allow him some time to process”. 

Jake is clever enough to see the battle fought beneath the niceties, and silently cheers her unwillingness to allow Mrs Calhoun to embarrass or belittle her. “What a sweet girl, such a shame the two of you couldn't make things work. You probably still could, you're both young enough. If he saw you in a dress like this I'm sure he'd change his mind,” Mrs Calhoun coos, “such a flattering silhouette; very slimmin--”.

“Mrs Calhoun, have you met Lieutenant Seresin, my escort for this evening?” Jake steps easily into his role of soldier and defender, a curt yet polite nod conveys his ‘hello’. “Pleasure,” he lies. 

“A lieutenant? How interesting!” The woman says, her expression souring as she suddenly makes excuses to leave. 

She's across the room in a flash joining a flock of tittering ladies who are not subtle at all as they cast their gaze towards him and a lovely girl who is now hiding her face against his chest. Her giggles are muffled but he's glad to hear she hasn't been too shaken by the encounter.

 “They're all looking at us,” Jake thinks it's best to tell her. There's nothing worse than being blindsided. He expects her to take at least a half step away from him; to straighten herself back into the straight backed paper doll their audience came to see. Instead she moves closer looking up at him with wide eyes and long lashes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

“Maybe we should give them something to look at…” she suggests, and his stomach drops, certain he's not hearing her correctly. 

“What do you have in mind, honey?” 

She answers with a kiss, and he’s happy to be the one to kiss her, but he’ll be damned if he doesn't a proper job of it. How ungentlemanly would he be to not be thorough in his work? What a disservice it would be to her if he did not take the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his find purchase on her hip, and in the back of her hair. By the starry-eyed look on her face when he pulls away he’s convinced he’s met the mark of the task; the shocked expressions from the Calhouns confirm his suspicions of her ex lacking any kind of rectitude or skill. 

The kiss wasn't long enough or anywhere near steamy enough to be considered anything close to vulgar. He knows the two of them will be the subject of several buzz lines in the community tomorrow, but he hopes it won't be anything implying promiscuity or untoward behaviour. Her cheek is warm beneath the pad of his tomb, and he's sure his cheeks are flushed. He tries not to become too giddy at the prospect of being promoted from escort to boyfriend for the evening. He's not naive enough to think this is anything more than one of those fake dating scenarios from the made-for-TV Christmas films his Mama has always enjoyed. It's a calculated and clever choice, and he's happy to oblige; to be a pawn in something bigger than any of his own wants or desires. He's used to it. He's made a career out of it. Lieutenant Seresin reporting for duty. 

A three-bell tone notifies everyone that it’s time to return to their seats. As the lights slowly dim once more her hand returns to the place it had taken on his thigh earlier in the night, any remaining tension in her shoulders released as she busies herself with tracing invisible shapes once again. In the darkness of the room, Jake’s face blushes as he tries not to shift too suddenly in his seat, her hand moving an inch or two higher up his leg. Long-manicured fingers move at a teasing pace until they find his belt buckle. He has no choice but to stop her, even though he’d prefer not to. His lips brush the shell of her ear as he captures her wrist in his hand, “Behave,” he whispers, managing to keep his warning somewhere between stern and playful. A soft gasp escapes her, her eyes glinting in the low light with a mischievous glee. Good God, he’d be hard-pressed to deny her anything looking at him like that. He releases her wrist, and she resumes her mission. 

He feels guilty; as if he’s corrupted her somehow, and he knows that feeling alone is a disservice to her. In the extraordinarily short time he’s known her he’s learned that she is headstrong and determined in the most brilliant ways. While she’s spent her life slipping in and out of different roles to ease the minds of those she’s been forced to associate with, she has done it all by choice. As exhausted as she must be, it’s a game she’s learned to play, and she’ll never allow herself to lose. He urges himself to consider that his role in her life may just be that of a buffer, a simple stand-in to offset the weight of the outside world. His penchant for cocksure, self-assured, over conference aside, he’s not dumb enough to truly think that he could be her freedom, but he’ll allow himself to sleep tonight with the belief that he could be happy being a conduit for it. 

She’s indescribably pretty looking up at him. Her skirt billows around her where she kneels between his thighs, her hair slightly tousled, and her lips glossy. He’s met his fair share of beautiful women. He’s lost count of the partners he brought home for a night. Most of their names he’s now forgotten, and he feels dreadfully sorry to them all because he knows this image before him now will be burned into his mind for a lifetime. He won’t forget Miss Bell, nor her elegance. He won’t ever fail to recall her smile, or he erudite quips. His breath stutters, and he thanks the Lord for the players on the stage making the audience laugh as he struggles to hold back a softened moan. 

The rest of the evening’s performance passes in a blur and they’re outside waiting for the valet to bring the car around before he knows it. She reapplies her lipstick with the help of a small compact mirror, and he swears his knees go weak at the sight. He tips the valet well for the speed with which he returns, and she gives a kind “thank you. Have a good night,” to the man as she ducks to slip into the passenger seat. 

“You should come inside,” she says as they pull through the gate outside her home. “I should?” 

“Mhm,” she hums. “And why is that?” he asks hoping he’s not pressing his luck. “Because I like you, Jake,” she says simply. He doesn’t need more convincing. 

Her bedroom is as warm, plush, and luxurious as he could have anticipated. Their clothes strewn across the floor leave a conspicuous trail from the door to her bed. The dress he'd been admiring her in all night must've cost a pretty penny but it's tossed aside with his pants and shirt that she'd made quick work of. 

He lets her have her fun perched, straddling his lap as hands and lips explore exposed bodies. He's careful about leaving his mark knowing his presence in this house tonight must be that of a ghost. Neither of them say it, but they both know this is a secret they'll keep forever. Jake pinches her hip when she nips particularly hard at his collarbone.

“Careful. That's property of the United States Navy, honey”.

 His warning doesn't dissuade her and she's convinced to leave another bite in the same place. He rolls them over, settling his weight between thighs. He leaves kiss stain bruises along her torso, taking his time to lap, suck, and soothe with the goal of hearing her sighs. 

He lowers himself to his belly kissing from her ankle to her knee as he pushes one of her legs then the other over his shoulders. “You don't have to--”.

“I want to,” he insists with a playful nip at her hip, but she still looks hesitant. “I won't if you don't want me to,” he assures her, beginning to pull away. 

“ I do!” She says quickly, “it's just my ex never--”

“He's an idiot,” he replies easily before diving in for a taste. He means it too. He has abandoned reason and found heaven. He's collapsed like a man starved before her. Only an absolute fool would balk at the opportunity to please a woman, especially one who looks so pretty with her head tilted back, her fingers tangled in his hair; a plea for more. How could he deny her? 

It's a year later when he's invited back to the theatre. His girlfriend’s had held proudly in his own as they both sidestep the conversations they do not wish to be a part of. “Miss Bell,” people still call out to her, and she obliges them with polite small talk, correcting them as they ask about her Lieutenant, she's proud of him and his recent promotion, ensuring that they are all aware of the correct honorific, but insisting they just call him Jake. It's who he'd prefer to be in her company; a truer version of himself. The Calhouns make themselves scarce, avoiding himself and Miss Bell like the plague, and neither of them has any complaints about that. 

Mindless catching up, and society-bound exchanges are far less painful with a companion. They take turns filling people in on their lives out in California, slipping inside jokes between the lines unbeknownst to the people around them. Little secrets just to keep the other entertained, the reward of a smile enough to pull them through the crowds. Neither of them relaxes completely until they've made it to the Bell’s private box. His hand moves to rest on her thigh by instinct at this point, he palm warm on her exposed skin. He loves her in this dress, emerald green, with an elegant slit up the skirt. She leans over to kiss him and he’s more than happy to indulge her. 

[berberriescorner]

“Haunted Hearts”

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Simon “Ghost” Riley returns home, haunted by his past missions, creating a rift with his wife. She confronts him, demanding honesty and connection.

Word Count: 1,000+.

A/N: I don’t own these images. Just created the mood board my loves🩵.

Inspired By🩵:

songs listed can be found below:

✨Apple Music✨

✨Spotify✨

The house was eerily quiet, save for the muffled sound of heavy boots hitting the wooden floor. Simon “Ghost” Riley trudged through the dimly lit hallway, his shoulders hunched under the weight of an invisible burden. You were sitting in the living room and noticed the tension radiating from him as soon as he entered. It had been like this since he returned from his last mission—every day a battlefield of its own.

"Simon, we need to talk," you said, voice steady but laced with worry.

He halted, his back to you. "Not now."

"No, we need to talk now. You've been shutting me out since you got back. It's like you're not even here."

Simon turned slowly, his eyes hard and unyielding behind the mask of his stoic expression. "Maybe I don’t want to be here," he snapped.

You flinched at his harsh words but stood your ground. "Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"Don't tell me what I mean," he growled, stepping closer, fists clenching at his sides.. "You have no idea what’s going on in my head.."

"Then tell me! Let me in, Simon. I'm your wife, not some random stranger."

The living room was dimly lit, the flicker of candles casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was almost suffocating.

He laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that echoed through the room. "What? Do you think you can fix me? I don’t need fixin’ lass. Jus’ leave it alright?”

Your head reared back as his words struck you. Mouth agape, you were at a loss for words. Simon saw the pain in your eyes. He sighed, shaking his head, and whispered, “Shit, love. I’m sorry. It’s just–this isn't working."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to remain calm. "No. You don't get to run away. Not this time. This will not end like your last marriage. No disrespect to your previous wife, but you're not scaring me off that easily. I know you have demons. I know how hard it is to do the work you've done and still do. I know you’re just lashing out of fear. You can be a ghost in the field. The strongest, baddest motherfucker out there. That's in the field. You do not get to be a ghost in this marriage. If you don't want to open up to me, fine, but you have got to give me something, Simon. I won't walk away from you. So don't run away from me. Please, I love you. I need you," you choked on a sob, fighting back tears that threatened to spill.

Simon’s façade cracked, and his eyes flashed. First with anger and pain that quickly morphed into sadness and fear. "You don't understand. I can’t… I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be the man you need. The husband you deserve."

You took a step closer, voice softening. "I don’t need you to be perfect, Simon. I need you to be here with me. Be the man you've always been. Flaws and all, baby. Talk to me. Let me share your burden."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You know that's not my style, love. I'm not a man of many words. My past—I can't go back there. Life before you. That shit is dark both family and career-related, lovie. I don't want to rehash it. Relive it. It’s just the way I am, sweetheart. You deserve better than this. Better than me."

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "I deserve the man I married. The man who loves me, even when he’s hurting. I deserve you, Simon. And I’m staying."

Simon closed his eyes, the weight of your words sinking in. The two of you stood in silence, the tension palpable. Then, he slowly turned back to you, his expression weary but vulnerable.

"I don’t know if I can do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Whatever you feel works for you. That's what we’ll do. Pushing me out of your life is not an option.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. "You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

Simon’s resolve crumbled, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice low and strained. "I’m so sorry."

You held him tighter, feeling the tension in his body. "It's okay, Simon. We’ll get through this. I love you."

He nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of his gratitude and love. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you could face whatever demons haunted him. Together, you could heal.

In the following days, Simon made a conscious effort to be more present. It wasn’t a dramatic change, but small gestures showed his commitment: a touch on your shoulder, a moment of eye contact, an occasional shared laugh.

One evening, as you both sat quietly in the living room, Simon spoke softly, “I’ve started seeing someone. To talk. About everything.”

You looked at him, surprised but relieved. “That’s good, Simon. Really good.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “It’s not easy, but I want to try. For us.”

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

There were still difficult days, but the atmosphere between you gradually lightened. You found comfort in small routines: sharing meals, walking together, sitting in companionable silence. Each day, Simon opened up a little more, and you felt the connection between you slowly strengthen.

One night, as you lay in bed, Simon turned to you, his voice a murmur in the dark. “Thank you for sticking with me.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to brush your fingers through his hair. “We’re in this together, Simon. Always.”

With that understanding, you both settled into a more peaceful sleep, knowing that the journey ahead would be challenging but manageable, as long as you faced it side by side.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated lovelies��.

Tagging some love bugs💚:

@astoldbychae @darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @starrynite7114

@amorestevens @percosim @theeblackmedusa @johnnyshoe

@thabiddie23 @sunshine-flower @ravennaortiz @bxdbxtxh15

@dc418writes @itgurls-world @phoenixhalliwell @drewsmusee

@magicwriterinspo @m150-50up @readernimsblog

@chosoloveletters @ghostslittlegf @virgomess @msdrpreist

@foulmouthedandfanfic

[justagalwhowrites]

HI BESTIE !!! 🫂

i was wondering how Joel would react to Doc spoiling him ROTTEN after she got that big girl money 🫦 (in the lavender au)

(because i know she will spoil him so much as a thank you for his unwavering support throughout her career 🥹)

OMG Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so so SO much. Joel is so soft with his girls and he deserves all the good things, including his wife treating him to all the best things once she's a big time surgeon.

This is just the perfect prompt for our favorite man's birthday, too! I hope this is just what you were hoping for. Love you!

Spoiled

After years of Joel taking care of you, you take care of Joel. A one shot set in the Lavender AU timeline.

Yes I know it's not a Joel gif but it fits the fic so well I had to.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel and Doc from the Lavender AU)

Warnings: Fluff and smut, smut and fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

It started with a shopping trip in Houston for Sarah’s wedding. 

She needed a dress for the rehearsal and her bachelorette party and the malls in Austin just weren’t cutting it. 

“I’m telling you,” she said after coming up empty handed on another Saturday spent shopping as the two of you ate salads and drank sweet tea at a patio cafe. “We need to go to Houston. We haven’t found anything for you, either.”

“I can just…” you began, but Sarah cut you off. 

“Mom,” she raised her brows. “You do not get to say ‘just’ anything about my wedding, come on.” 

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled. 

“Alright,” you put your hands up in surrender. “I’ve got the weekend off again in two weeks, I’ll get us a hotel room in Houston and we can shop til we drop.” 

“I’m going to get you comfortable with spending some of those big surgeon bucks one of these days,” she said. “You need to treat yourself! Live a little!” 

“I live plenty, thank you,” you replied. “And I do it just fine in my Goodwill jeans.” 

“Whatever you say,” she smirked a little, flagging down the server and grabbing the bill before you had a chance to fight her on it. 

Sarah might have had a point. You’d been an attending for the better part of a year now and the jump in pay had been staggering. You were making more now in a year than you had your entire life - or it felt that way, anyway. You’d already made good progress paying off your student loans but you made quick work of the rest. Joel had asked if you wanted to move - something bigger or better somehow - now that you could easily afford it but you’d just frowned at him, almost hurt. 

“This is our home,” you said. “I fell in love with you here, Sarah grew up here, we made Evie here. This is the first place I ever really felt like I belonged, I don’t want to leave.” 

Joel just smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Then we’ll stay,” he said. “Moving’s a fuckin’ hassle anyway.” 

You’d just been saving money, not really sure what to do with it. You donated some of it, stopped spending time clipping coupons, finally bought a car that was from this decade (but still used). But actually spending it made you anxious. You’d never had money before. You weren’t poor, exactly. You’d always had enough to eat and a roof over your head but you almost never bought new clothes, had never really traveled outside of places that you could easily get to by car. You were pretty sure you’d never even been in a car that wasn’t at least 10 years old before you came to college and your friend Cassie gave you a ride to the store in her new BMW. It was hard to get used to the idea that money could be spent at all, that it wasn’t already earmarked for some bill or, if there was any left, that it had to be saved for a rainy day. 

“You gotta actually spend some of that hard earned money on yourself, Baby,” Joel said as you headed outside to meet Sarah for your weekend in Houston. “Buy some ridiculously expensive dress that I’m gonna want to rip off you in seconds or some purse that’s $1,000 for reasons I don’t understand.” 

“That’s two mortgage payments,” you said, eyes wide. 

“Baby.” 

“Right, right,” you nodded. “On a mission, spend money. Got it.” 

“On yourself,” he added. “Not Sarah. Or not just Sarah, anyway. You two have fun.” 

“You too,” you said, stretching up to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t let Evie con you into giving her candy when she gets home from school.” 

“What wild thing and I get up to when you’re not around is none of your business,” he gave you one last peck on the lips. “Now go, stop worryin’, live a little.” 

The mall in Houston was almost overwhelming. Not in the crowds way malls sometimes were for you, thank goodness, but with the kinds of stores. There were names you recognized from Cassie’s closet and from some of the trust fund girls in your med school program but you realized quickly you had no concept of what things like this actually cost. 

Sarah picked a dress for the rehearsal that was nearly $600 and you choked on the champagne the sales person had given you to sip while Sarah tried on options. 

“You really buy $600 dresses?” You gaped at her as you wandered back into the store from the dressing rooms. 

“Not all the time,” she shrugged. “But we make good money and sometimes it’s fun to buy something nice.” 

She held up a floor length gown to you, the bottom pooling on the ground. 

“That’s too long,” you said. 

“Well we’d get it tailored,” she laughed a little. “Come on, try it on.” 

Another sales person wandered over and offered to set up a fitting room and you snuck a peek at the price tag. Your eyes went wide. 

“That dress is $1200!” You whispered at Sarah as you trailed after the attendant. 

“And it’s for my wedding,” she replied. “And don’t you have that gala thing every spring for work? You can wear it for that, you need a new dress for that anyway. Plus I’m the bride and I say you have to try it on. You can’t disappoint the bride.” 

You sighed and went into the fitting room, feeling utterly out of place in your second hand Levis and vintage top you’d picked up on a shopping trip a few weeks back that felt much more your speed. 

But the dress - outside of the length - looked like it had been made for you. The silk hugged your every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to display just enough cleavage to be sexy but not so much that it would be scandalous. It was simple, no embellishments beyond the structure of the dress and the deep emerald green of the fabric. Normally you’d have scoffed at something so basic fetching such a high price but, now that it was on your body, you understood it. It was like you’d put on a work of art and, in doing so, become art yourself. 

“OK you can’t laugh,” you said. “But I’m coming out.” 

Sarah was waiting patiently in the little show room attached to your fitting room and you had to hold up the hem of the dress to not trip but she gasped all the same. 

“Oh Mom,” her hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You look incredible.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning in the mirrors to look at yourself from every angle. “I don’t look like I’m playing dress up?” 

“Not at all,” she spoke with almost a sense of reverence, looking you up and down. “You’re getting that dress. I’ll buy it for you if you won’t…” 

“No, Sarah,” you protested but she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture before you had a chance to really realize what she was doing. “What was that for?” 

“I’m sending this to Dad…” her voice trailed off and she took a sip of champagne just as her phone rang. She smirked and answered, putting it on speaker phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey old man, your wife is trying to tell me this dress costs too much.” 

“I don’t care if that dress costs $200,000 she’s bringing it home,” Joel said. “She hear me?” 

“Yes,” Sarah smiled, a shit eating grin if there ever was one. 

“Good,” he said. “Baby, you look so damn amazing I’m about to jump in the truck and drive over there just to see you in that thing in person sooner. Save me a trip, bring it home, alright?” 

“Alright,” you sighed. 

“Didn’t quite hear that,” Joel said. 

“I said alright you dork,” you said a little, grinning in spite of yourself. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You bought the dress. And a bag that Sarah insisted you needed for work because she was tired of seeing you haul around a canvas tote. And shoes for the dress. 

When you passed the jeweler window, you were on the way to the car after spending so much money you were surprised you hadn’t fainted. You stopped, the hanger with the garment bag for the dress hooked in your fingers over your shoulder, and looked at the watch sitting in the window. 

It was large and silver but not too ornate, no diamonds or anything like that. The face of the watch was black with elegant white roman numerals on the face. 

“What?” Sarah asked, stopping next to you. 

“Do you think your dad would like that?” You asked, head cocked a little, still looking at the timepiece through the glass. 

“Yeah,” Sarah said after a moment. “Seems like a him watch, if he were going to wear a nice watch, anyway.” 

Joel did already have a watch. A simple one with a green strap and silver colored case and a black face. You and Sarah had picked it out together for his birthday one year. She’d been giddy about it, you had to all but beg her to keep it a secret for a few days until it came time to give it to him. He loved the thing, wore it every day, even more than a decade later. 

But your career wasn’t the only one that had advanced. Joel was no longer doing the manual labor of a contractor every day. More often than not, he was going to meet with clients and arrange contracts and make plans. For a lot of those meetings, he wore a suit and, for a lot of those meetings, you saw him stick his watch in his pocket before leaving the house instead of putting it on. 

“Hard sometimes,” he said when you’d asked him about it. “Fittin’ in with these clients.” 

“Let me just…” you doubled back to the entrance to the store and went inside. 

The watch was more than you thought it would be. A lot more. So, so much more. You watched as the sale’s person’s eyes went from encouraging and hopeful to let down when you reacted to the price. 

“One second,” you smiled sheepishly and pulled out your phone, going into your banking app. Even after spending an arm and a leg on yourself that day, the number in your personal checking account seemed obscenely high. More money than you’d ever had at once until very, very recently. You could afford the watch. You looked at the sales person and smiled. 

“I’ll take it.” 

You had several very strong cocktails when out to dinner with Sarah that night to make yourself feel a little better about spending thousands of dollars on things like clothes and a watch and she just smiled. 

“See, Mom? You spent some money on yourself and the apocalypse did not happen, I think you can actually buy yourself things from time to time.” 

“And things for your dad,” you said. “Because he needs nice things, too.” 

When you got home, Joel insisted that you model the dress for him. 

“It needs to be tailored,” you tried to protest. 

“Not for me to take it off you it doesn’t,” he smiled from his spot on the couch, beer in hand. 

“Fine,” you said. “But only if you let me model everything I bought and you can’t return any of it.” 

“Deal.” 

You went to your bedroom and put on the dress and the shoes and took the watch out of the bag, the face almost comically large on your wrist, before going back to the living room, hem of the dress in hand. 

“Jesus Christ Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes wide. “You look… fuck me.” 

“That is the idea,” you winked. “You like it?” 

“Like is a fuckin’ understatement,” he said, getting up and walking around you slowly, his eyes going up and down your body. “You know, Evie’s at a friend’s for two more hours…” 

“So you’re not going to make me return anything I have on?” You asked. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Not this dress?” You started unzipping the side before sliding the straps down your arms. 

“Dress stays,” he said, gently tugging it down and exposing your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts. 

“What about the shoes?” You asked, putting a sandaled foot out from below the hem. He glanced down, eyes ranging over the straps. 

“Those stay, too,” he said, going back to kissing your chest. “Everything you’ve got on stays, already agreed to that.” 

“Good,” you said as he made it to your neck. “Even this?” 

You held up your wrist, the watch sliding down your arm. 

He frowned, looking at it. 

“Don’t look like you’re style,” he said. “But if it makes you happy, Baby, keep it.” 

“Never said it was for me, Joel,” you smiled a little. You watched him piece it together, taking a moment for him to dawn on him. 

“No,” he shook his head, looking from your arm to your face. “No, you were supposed to get stuff for yourself for a change not…” 

“I did get stuff for me,” you said. “And I got this for you. Because you’re wearing suits more now and I wanted you to have the watch for that. So really, it is for me.” 

He took your wrist gently in one hand, elbow in the other, tilting your arm this way and that to look at the watch in different lights. 

“Baby, this…” he shook his head again. “This is too much, this is…” 

“Not for you,” you cut him off. “Not after everything you’ve given me. This is not enough. But it’s a start. Besides, you said I got to keep everything I was wearing. You already agreed to it, Miller.” 

“Baby,” he sighed. 

“Joel,” you smiled a little. “You’re my husband. Let me give you something nice. Please.” 

He brought the inside of your wrist to his lips and kissed you there, making your pulse flutter against his mouth. 

“Already gave me the best thing there is,” he said. “Anything more feels like I’m stealin’ it.” 

“Steal whatever you want, Miller,” you teased. “But you’re keeping the watch.” 

Joel ended up wearing the watch often. Not as much as the Sarah watch - and he stuck with the Sarah watch for her wedding - but at least once a week for meetings where he needed to dress up for. Every time you gave him a little knowing smile and every time he rolled his eyes a little before kissing you goodbye. But you had yet to get him to accept anything like it in the years since, Joel trying to dodge everything every time you spent money on him. 

So when his birthday was around the corner, you were bound and determined to get him something good. 

“Anything you want for your birthday?” You asked as you, Joel and Ellie wandered around a street fair, meandering towards the car show. “Anything you want to do?” 

“S’not like it’s a big one,” he shrugged. “Just 56. Would love to see all my girls, of course. Could use some new tongs for the grill.” 

“Tongs?” Ellie said, brows raised. “Seriously? Old people are so WEIRD.” 

“You know what kiddo?” Joel smiled a little, faking exasperation. “We’ll see how you’re doin’ when you’re pushin’ 60.” 

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and wandered to the first car in the row of vehicles on display. You laughed, strolling along with Joel until he stopped at a beautiful old convertible, giving a low whistle. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Just a pretty fuckin’ car,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly around it. “Always wanted one of these when I was a kid.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, getting an idea. 

“Neighbor had one,” he nodded. “Let me ride in the back once. Coolest fuckin’ car.” 

He looked over every inch of the thing and Ellie caught up with you while he did, pouting a little as she leaned on the door of the car, her chin propped on her folded arms. 

“I’m starving,” she groaned. “Can I go get some fries at least?” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “Grab me a lemonade, too?” 

You watched as she went to the food stands and you and Joel moved on, walking slowly down the row of cars when Ellie caught up with you again, passing you the lemonade. Joel stole a fry from her cup. 

“Hey!” She protested. “Go get your own!” 

“Might have to,” he said, giving her a wink. “Back in a sec.” 

You waited until he was out of earshot before you grabbed Ellie. 

“Do me a favor,” you said. “That car we were looking at? The blue one? Can you go talk to the owner and find out what make, model and year it is?” 

“I guess,” she frowned. “Why?” 

“Because,” you said. “I found something your dad wants besides tongs.” 

You went and stood in line with Joel, keeping him distracted while Ellie did recon. She took some pictures of the car and texted you all the information which you texted to Andrew as Joel drove home from the fair. 

“Can you help me find this car?” You asked him. “One that’s for sale?”

“Becoming a collector?” He texted back. 

“Joel’s birthday,” you added a smilie face emoji. 

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll find you something, don’t worry.” 

It took a few weeks but Andrew found the car. A blue 1967 Mustang Convertible that was being sold down in San Antonio. He went down with you to help you test drive it - you didn’t know a damn thing about cars - and you bought it on the spot. 

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Andrew said, driving it home since you couldn’t drive stick. “Seriously, you might give the man a heart attack…” 

You rolled your eyes but laughed all the same. 

“I really hope he loves it,” you said, running your fingers over the dash. 

“I’ll take it off your hands if he doesn’t,” Andrew smiled. “Just don’t tell Jess.” 

Tommy agreed to store the car in his garage until Joel’s party at his house in two weeks and you were giddy as you drove home, feeling like a kid at Christmas as you tried to keep the car a secret. 

By the time the party rolled around, even Ellie was excited and having a hard time holding it together. 

“It’s really just a cookout at Tommy’s,” Joel said as the three of you piled in the car to head over. “Not sure why you two are actin’ like we’re going to fuckin’ Six Flags…” 

“Tommy’s cooler than you,” Ellie said. “Nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a total dinosaur…” 

“Alright, in the car kiddo,” Joel smiled and shook his head a little. “Can’t take you anywhere ’til seatbelts are on, let’s go!” 

You texted Tommy that you were on the way and he responded with a picture of the car, shiny in his driveway with a big, red bow on the hood. 

“He’s going to lose his mind, Kid,” he texted back. “Please tell Maria I want this same treatment when I’m old.” 

“Better put in some work to deserve it, Miller,” you replied, smiling a little. 

Joel parked on the street, frowning at the car in Tommy’s driveway. 

“When the hell’d Tommy get a Mustang?” He got out, his frown deepening. You almost laughed. 

“He didn’t,” you smiled, so big it was like your face was going to crack. 

Joel looked confused for half a moment before his mouth dropped open in shock. 

“No,” he shook his head. Ellie leaned between the front seats, grinning hugely, “No, no that’s… Baby. No.” 

“Suck it up, old man,” Ellie smirked as Sarah and Brandon came out of the house, little Carson making a beeline for the car. Sarah and Brandon waved as Tommy and Maria joined them in the yard. Ellie pulled the keys out of her pocket and dangled them between you and Joel. He took them, staring at them in his hand for a second.

“Should take it before I do,” Tommy hollered and you laughed as you got out of the car and followed an almost dazed Joel toward the Mustang. 

He walked, in awe, around the car twice. 

“I…” he said but stopped, staring at the convertible for a moment. “I don’t….” 

“Do you like it?” You asked, coming up beside him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, immediately looking at you. “But Baby, this is too much, way too much, I can’t…” 

“Yes you can,” you smiled up at him. He looked down at you, the awed expression still on his face. “After everything you’ve done for me? For us? Everything you’ve sacrificed, all the ways you take care of me and our girls? The life you gave me? Still not enough, Joel. Not for you.” 

He pulled you tight to him and kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice wet. “So goddamn much, Baby.” 

Tommy set up chairs and a table in the front yard so everyone could sit near the car while celebrating Joel. He kept looking over at it in disbelief before looking at you with eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt quite so full. 

You drove Ellie home, following slowly behind Joel in the new convertible. 

“OK I know what this shit means,” Ellie said, gesturing between you and Joel after you got home, your husband clutching you to his side. “Try to keep it down and not be gross about it because ugh.” 

“Was actually going to see if you wanted to take the car for a spin,” you smiled up at Joel. “Just you and me. Assuming Ellie will behave herself and actually go to bed at a reasonable time.” 

“Anything to get away from whatever that is,” Ellie said, smiling a little as she went to her room. You laughed. 

“So,” you said, once she closed the door to her room. You looked up at Joel, smiling. “Care to take me for a ride, Mr. Miller?” 

He grinned.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.” 

He took you through town slowly, down quiet side streets filled with sleeping people and past businesses that had closed for the night, until the two of you ended up at a large park on the edge of town where things were a little darker and you could see some of the stars. 

“I can’t believe you got me a car, Baby,” he said, his hands running over the steering wheel. His smile was so big you could see it even in the dim light of the moon. “It’s really…” 

“If you say it’s too much again, Joel, I will go and buy you a second one on principle.” 

He laughed at that. 

“I was gonna say it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, turning to look at you. “Besides you and the girls of course.” 

“Oh, of course,” you smiled. 

He leaned in and kissed you gently. 

“Not sure what I did to deserve you,” he said. “But I sure am grateful for it.” 

Your kiss shifted and you started climbing over the center console, Joel taking a second to move his seat all the way back. You bunched your skirt around your hips and settled over him, kissing him harder, more eager. 

“I’m pretty damn grateful for you,” you whispered against his mouth, his hands going to your hips. You ground down on him and he moaned, pressing his hard length up against you through his jeans. “And I think the birthday boy should get laid in his dream car.” 

“Dream car,” he said, kissing you. “Dream woman.” He kissed you again. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday.” 

You unzipped his fly as you kissed him and tucked your panties to the side, notching his cock against your entrance. He moaned as you sank slowly down onto him, taking all of him inside of you, savoring how he filled you. 

You started slowly, just grinding him deeper into you as you kissed him, his tongue licking into your mouth. 

“You feel fuckin’ amazing Baby,” he moaned, kissing down your throat until he reached your breasts, cleavage bared in your v-neck top. “Always feel so damn good…” 

He was thrusting up into you, trying to set his own pace, and you decided to allow that, matching him stroke for stroke as he groaned below you. His hands ranged up your back, pawing at your shirt until be was able to raise it enough to slide below it and get at your skin with a satisfied moan. He clutched you close, so close that you could hardly move over him anymore. Instead, he fucked up into you, making you whimper and your channel tighten around him. 

“C’mon Baby,” he grunted, voice strained. “Want you to come for me. All I want now is you to come for me, come all over me, fuck Baby…” 

You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet, the sounds of crickets and cicadas on the air as you came, your sex throbbed around him. You whimpered against him as you came down from your high and he kept working you, his grip on you tightening. 

“Fuck Baby,” he gasped. “Feel too good, I’m gonna… fuck… I’m…” 

He cut himself off with a groan, thrusting deep and filling you, his grip on you relaxing enough that you could sit up a little. You looked at him in the moonlight his eyes closed, a blissed out look on his face. You smiled a little, brushing his more unruly curls back from his forehead. 

“I love you so much, Baby,” he smiled a little, eyes still closed. 

“So I did alright for your birthday?” You teased lightly, his softening cock still buried inside you. 

He laughed. 

“Did perfect,” he tugged you close enough that he could kiss you again, careful to not push you back against the horn. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday, perfect fuckin’ woman, perfect fuckin’ wife.” 

“Good,” you smiled, kissing him. “You deserve it, Joel. You deserve the world.” 

[drewsbuzzcut]

Santa Baby

Jeremy Swayman x Lyla Blair

Masterminds blurb

Warnings: none!

Takes place: Christmas Day 2024

Jeremy walks down the hall, appreciating every single piece of Christmas decor that Lyla dresses her home with. The beginning chords of “Santa Baby” play and take him straight to his girlfriend. Lyla is sat at the piano, wrapped in a sheet from her bed. He laughs because she could’ve just put on his shirt that was tossed to the floor last night.

“Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl,” Lyla’s melodic voice draws him closer to her. Her dark hair cascades over her bare shoulders in perfects waves.

“Sounds beautiful,” Jeremy interrupted, making the girl turn to him with a shy smile. She isn’t quite used to singing in front of him- on purpose.

“Thank you,” she hums and falls back into his chest when he sits behind her on the wooden bench. The warmth of his pale skin seeps into her bones, warning her to the core.

“Santa baby, a 54’ Convertible too, light blue. I’ll wait up for you, dear. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight,” she sings, now fighting an electric chill zipping up her spine from the way Jeremy massages the tender skin of her shoulders.

Her vocal cords dare to tremble at the touch of her boyfriend’s large hands. Her fingers almost slip from the black and white keys, but she pushes through. The girl forces her attention to the window, witnessing the white Christmas they’re lucky to have. She definitely wouldn’t experience snow like this in Houston.

“Think of all the fun I’ve missed.”

Jeremy’s hand smoothly slides up her neck to her cheek, turning her face towards him. She inhales deeply, feeling everything start to slow down and fade away.

“Think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed,” Lyla hums while expertly playing the piano without even looking. Her green eyes stare into the lustful whirlpools in his own. A hand wraps softly around her neck and Jeremy leans in, brushing his lips against hers. Her heart thunders and her hands leave the keys in favor of touching his beard. She presses her forehead to his, breathy sighs lingering between them.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

Lyla closes the distance, wrapping her arms around his neck and fully turning her body into his. He hums delightfully into her mouth, falling under her spell until he crashes onto the floor with the girl on top of him.

They burst into giggles not even caring about the bruises they might have from falling off the piano bench.

“Merry Christmas, J,” Lyla mutters and kisses him once more.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Jeremy says back, rolling them over so he can press a kiss to every inch of her body.

a/n: Completely unedited and written super quickly, so sorry about that! Happy Holidays babes🫶 I love and appreciate yall so much

[hedgewitchh]

Eternity is a long time

Lucy has lived a long life, it had grown boring even her research couldn't being the thrill it used to. A trip to Houston finally might promise a difference in routine.

Lucy's days were full of monotony, waking up at sunset, going to the temple and doing her job. Every day for years and years it went like this, she worked on rituals for the church and worked her way up the ranks quickly. She was transferred to Houston. ‘They need to be whipped into shape, I hear a few childer are unruly this year.’

So she went, always the obedient kindred the perfect Tremere. She hated it, she wanted to do more, be more; but a rebellious church member didn't get far and she'd be damned if she let the power she clawed for slip away from her. She bought a quaint house in a gated community. She planted trees around the property, and she used rituals to help the growth of the plants.

She settled into her new home, decorating the way she liked and hired a contractor to renovate her basement for her magical practices. She moved her sanguine servant to her bedroom for the time, placing her on the desk. Zoey was the one person or homunculus she could talk to about her wants and how boring meetings are.

Days passed before she went to the church, drawing it out as much as possible before she had to be a proper church member. 

She dressed in a pencil skirt, stockings, a blouse that she left the top buttons left undone and kitten heels. A cross laid on her neck showed off proudly, most of the Tremere wore religious iconography, some were more bizarre than others . Some based their entire outfits on the symbols, some like her were more discreet. She threw her hair into a low bun, looking as professional as she could.

The church was imposing as ever, she could feel the wards that surrounded the place and kept the public away from it during the day. She saw the stained glass windows, it looked like a mockery of an older church used for perverse rituals by beings damned and forgotten by God. She pushed the large doors open, heavy even to her supernatural strength.

The interior was spacious, high ceilings and burning candle light. There were no modern appliances to be seen, they were probably ones for the technomancers somewhere; she didn't need to worry about it. She walked up to the receptionist, a young man with dark hair. He looked up at her, bored though he gave her a quick once over. “Yes?”

“I'm Lucy Grey. I was sent from New York, the pastor should be expecting me.” She was curt with her words, not caring to make small talk.

His eyes widened, “You're Lucy Grey? Regent of the sixth circle? That Lucy?” 

She sighed, she was old enough and powerful enough to be known even here. “What? Expecting some old crone? Yes, I am her. Now tell the pastor I am here.” He nodded dumbly, staring after her, probably wishing he made a more memorable introduction, wanting to gain favor with her now that he knew she was a high ranking church member. She heard him make a call off the rotary phone and talk quickly, before calling out to her telling her to wait in the meeting room. She stared at him before he seemed to understand that she didn't know where to go. 

“Yes, apologies follow me.” He paused, “Please.” He added quickly, she stepped behind him.

 “Yea, yea old man I'll do it. Calm down.” Was heard before a body knocked into her own, pushing her against the opposite wall. “Shit.” Lucy stood up and looked at the man.

“You idiot, do you know who you just ran into?” The receptionist whispered yelled at the mystery man. She looked at him, he unassuming in height standing not much taller than her, a trench coat swished around him. He was handsome enough in a gangly way but she was more interested in his eyes, they were full of light and mischief. His skin was bright and flushed unlike most of the other kindred he was around, his smirk vanished as he looked down at her. She didn't miss how he looked at her breast for a brief moment.

“No? What some big shot in the church here to yell at me?” His mouth curled into a half smile as if it was always meant to be present. 

“She is a regent and you will show her respect!” The receptionist raised his voice slightly.

The man scoffed and then bowed as sarcastically as someone could. “Oh pardon me. Your regentness how will you ever forgive someone as low as myself?” He straightened himself almost to full height, shoulder pushed back.

She stepped closer to him, heels clicking against wood. “I assume you're a childer? Not yet use to the way the church works. I can overlook it this once.” She gave him a once over. “I can't imagine with your attitude you'll make it very far through the test.” Her smile was sickly sweet, she watched him bristle at her words.

“Yea sure, we'll see won't we?” He muttered and stormed away from her.

“Who was that?” She turned towards the receptionist.

“Christopher Sepren, he’s a few months old and is due to take the test soon with the others. He has yet to learn manners.” He sounded tired of Christopher already. 

She nodded and continued to follow until they reached the wide doors, the receptionist opened the door for her. She thanked him and walked in, the pastor already sitting at the head of the table, the doors closed with a heavy thunk. She took her own seat at the other end of the table. “Pastor.” she greeted softly, smiling at him. The picture of prim and proper.

“Lucy, it's so lovely to see you.” His voice rumbled out of him like thunder, his smile was easy going. “I trust your stay has been a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of New York.”

“Houston has its charm, that's for sure.” She replied easily, not interested in small talk. “Tell me about this year's batch of childer any unruly ones I should pay attention to and any outstanding ones I should also watch?”

The pastor thought for a moment and rattled off some names, describing who he thought had a chance of becoming an apprentice and those he thought wouldn't make it past the first test. He paused on a thought, “The only one that is unknown is Christopher. He has a true talent for blood magic, able to pick up the intricacies of rituals but he is defiant to his sire and has no respect for traditions.”

“I ran into him just earlier, well he ran into me. He was arrogant to say the least, and didn't like being looked down upon.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of Christopher. 

“Yes, that's the one I'd like for you to pay attention to.” 

“What? Why shouldn't I be helping a childer with discipline issues? Why him?” She was shocked at his words, was she being tested? 

“He has true talent, he just needs a guiding hand and unfortunately Arthur isn't the right hand for Christopher.”

“And you think I am?” She crossed her arms. “And if he fails? What then am I to be punished for a mistake?”

“You'll probably lose the chance to be promoted.” He shrugged unconcerned with her future. She narrowed her eyes at him but knew she would have to accept the task, she couldn't turn the offer down unless she wanted to hear from her Lord. 

“Fine, I'll get him to pass those tests and I expect Arthur to thank me for my help with his childer.” She stood up, “I'll corner Christopher now, while I have the chance.” She left without a goodbye and strode down the hall towards Arthur's office, she opened it without warning. He found the older man over a woman, drinking from her neck as she moaned under him. “Arthur, good to see you haven't changed. Here in the church? How scandalous.” She leaned against his bookshelf inspecting her nails as she waited. The smell of blood was all she could smell and taste, it made the beast inside of her rumble in never ending hunger but it was quickly quieted. 

He released the woman who whined at the  loss of the pleasurable bite, Arthur held her down with one hand. “Lucy, good to see you're as dead as ever. Can't even make yourself express desire for fresh blood? Are you that dead? Can anything make that heart beat again.” Arthur looked her up and down with lust, he had the blush of life and with the intoxicating scent of blood his libido had to be higher than normal.

“I am, nothing causes my heart to flutter like it used to.” She had no doubts, the life left her long ago along with any desire for pleasures of the flesh. It was a means to an end, to satisfy the beast. “You don't strike fire in my loins. Now tell me where to find your childer.” She looked up from her nails to stare at him.

He bared his fangs at her, “What do you want with him?” He spat at her

“I've been told to deal with your mess and it seems while promising he is trouble. The pastor thought I'd be a more gentle hand to guide him.” She crossed her arms under her breast pushing them up to prove her point. “Seeing that he seems to be blushed still, womanly guidance is sometimes better.” She looked down at the woman, “You would know.”

“Fine you can find him at home more than likely.” He told her the address. She wrote it down and walked out of the church making her way towards the small apartment Christopher owned. She went to knock on the door but stopped before she touched the wood, the hairs on her arm stood up feeling warding coming off the door. Her teeth bared in defense before she calmed down, knowing she wasn't in immediate danger as long as she didn't touch the door.

She heard a door creak open and she turned to Christopher at the other end of the hall, it seemed she didn't need to track him down. He looked guarded and stopped moving as he saw her, “What are you doing here?” 

“Pastor sent me, seems you need my help.” She smiled sweetly.

“I'm doing just fine on my own, you can ask Arthur.” He said his sire's name with disrespect.

“I did, he's about as happy as you are about this. He doesn't want me to take credit for helping you succeed.” She scoffed impatiently “We are going to be working very closely together, might as well make this easier for both of us. I'm Lucy Grey, your teacher from here on out.” 

“Chris,” He walked closer, taking out a pair of gloves and opening his door. “Come in I guess.”

The lights were off, but fire came to life in some lanterns as he lit one. She flinched at the unexpected fire and she heard him chuckle behind her, she whirled at him ready to scold him. She stopped when she saw his full smile, she couldn't stop from staring at the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, he looked truly alive in that moment as if darkness had never damned him. Firelight made his brown hair glow and his eyes danced with mischief again, she couldn't help but want to be closer to that warmth; that feeling of being alive.

She saw his mouth moving but heard nothing, she shook herself, “I'm sorry what?” She asked, she sounded breathy even to her own ears.

“I asked if I scared you too much, I would be surprised with how much candle light is in the church and-” He looked her up and down, “based on how you dress, you have to be there often.”

“There aren't exactly days off when you work for the chantry.” She felt like if she could blush she would, his gaze felt like fire on her skin and she couldn't understand the sentiment. She has been dead for too long to care about some childer, to care about his desire. 

She quickly changed the subject to how she would teach him, making him memorize everything he needed to know for the test and how he needed to impress if he wanted to survive. He seemed confused at the thought and she explained those who didn't impress would be used for rituals and never advance to learn the ways of blood. 

She was strict with him, but learned he was more likely to learn if she praised him and was encouraged by her words. She would sit on the couch and watch him hunch over a book she gave him, she would ask him random questions on the subject. He sometimes stumbled but never got the question wrong more than once, she was impressed the pastor was right he had great potential and seemed more at ease when not at the church. More willing to learn and listen in the privacy of his own home, it was commonplace that she waiting for him when he got home as he was the only childer assigned to her. He got over his initial surprise and sometimes anger at the invasion. 

She slotted with him in a way she didn't expect, he's made her genuinely laugh for the first time in maybe sixty years. She smiled easily around him and her gaze lingered on him longer than appropriate, taking in his figure when he didn't wear his jacket and the way he leaned back in his chair when he was talking with her. He started making crude jokes her way and she played them off as if they did make her dead heart feel something.

“You seem less straight laced, what happened to you? Find a nice fleshsack to spend your nights with, didn't know you had it in you.” One of the teachers asked as she passed, it's not the first time someone's made a comment. Though it was the first time someone asked her directly, it seems it wasn't unnoticed that she felt lighter than she had in years and someone thought she was soft enough to approach. 

She scowled at the teacher, “No, I have no interest in ‘shacking’ up with some mortal.”

“Then is it your new pet?” He leered at her, “What the blush really gets you going? Is that all it took to make Lucy Grey go soft? Maybe I should take him for a spin to see what makes him so special.”

She bared her fangs and stalked closer to him, unexpected anger springing in her chest “Think I've gone soft have you?” She moved her hand toward a plant near them and watched it wiggle to life, lashing out at the kindred and wrapping around his wrist. “Nobody touches what is mine. Do you really want to try your luck?” She had the plant tug on the kindred, making him stumble trying to free himself from the plant's grasp.

“Let me go.” He demanded, she shoves him back with a hand gripping a fistful of his shirt. Her face was near his.

“Have you ever tasted ash before?” She sneered at him, almost nose to nose with him. “Touch Christopher and every drop of blood you ever drink again will turn to ash on your tongue. Until you go mad with hunger and then I'll be there to put you down.” She released him and let him go.

 He looked at her with fear as she stood over him, this is who Lucy Grey was, a woman to be feared with a path unknown that only she held the key to and would never part with. She rose the ranks with her research and ability to make every kindred cow to her if she wanted, her complete control over the green world around her and an unknown power that she clawed for.

It wasn't the last time someone threatened to take Chris from her, though after a few unfortunate and mysterious disappearance of their students. They eventually quieted down, she watched as they slowly turned their ire to Chris since they couldn't do anything but spit poison at him. He took it in stride, already disliked due to his mouth this was nothing new to him it seemed; that didn't stop her from scolding and threatening anyone from being so outwardly hostile to him.

She was walking to the church's library when she heard someone talking not so quietly. “You think just because Lucy favors you, you get to walk around with no consequences? You took a book I was grabbing, now apologize and give it back.”

She heard the familiar sound of Chris’ laugh, she slowed her pace until she was just hidden behind a bookcase. “I grabbed it first, you didn't want it until I was walking away with it. Seems you're just upset that I could impress her while you aren't even a blip on her radar.” She could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. 

“You're not that special, you're the same as the rest of us, a nobody. A nobody who's going to fail and become another useless bloodbag.” The kindred's voice was a little higher pitch in anger, a woman probably one of the newly sired.

“Then why have I gotten my own personal teacher? Why is mine a high ranking church member?” She heard the sound of his footsteps, “It's not pure luck, I clearly have the skill that just doesn't come naturally to you.” She heard an indigent huff and the sounds of heels clicking away, she watched the woman leave studying her as she went. 

She heard the sound of boots draw closer, she stood motionless until Chris almost passed her when she shot her hand out and twisted him to press his back against the bookshelf. He lashed out immediately which she was glad to see, making her proud that he wouldn't be pushed around. He stopped when he recognized her, “Lucy?” He was breathless as he asked in surprise, his voice a little louder than normal.

She reached to cover his mouth and pressed a finger to her lips, “Shhh, this is still a library after all.” She smiled at him, she put her hand down standing close to him, chest to chest.  She could feel his slow heartbeat against her, it echoed in her ears. Though as he looked down at her, she heard his heart begin to beat faster, her chest on almost full display, wearing a black lacy bra that she was sure he could see the top of.

“Dressing up for me? Could've just asked how I wanted to see you.” His voice thick with want, his mouth curled in a half smile she wanted to see all the time.

“Now Christopher, hitting on your teacher isn't that a bit cliché even for you?” That didn't stop her from moving a bit closer to him closing the already small distance

“You're the one you slammed me into a bookshelf and pressed yourself up against me? Can you blame a guy for appreciating a beautiful woman throwing herself at him?” Though his words were seductive his hands stayed planted against the bookshelf as if afraid to touch her. 

“This is just more practice, gotta keep you on your toes.” She moved away from him, letting him stand away from the bookshelf, “Never know who's around the corner.”

“Apparently I should walk around blindly if this is the treatment I'll get.” 

“While I'm having fun, I'm also serious. The test has already begun and you don't know it. The moment you started showing potential it started and other kine want to remove competition and you're proving to be heavy competition.” She looked up at him, “You'll have to start taking them out as well, I and Arthur can only do so much. Prove your standing.” She brushed a hand against his arm before quickly withdrawing.

“Arthur is helping me?” He sounded surprised

“Of course, he made you and doesn't want to lose a precious childer or look bad in the eyes of the church. This is as much of a test for us as it is for you and I plan on passing, you better as well.”

His eyes turned serious as if finally understanding, “What about after? Will I see you after I pass?” 

She feels a pang in her chest, she doesn't know she wants to lie and say she'll stay in Houston with him. “I don't know, the church may send me somewhere else. I go where they want me, I don't have a say.” She whispered, looking away from him.

“You're telling me even Lucy Grey, the one I keep hearing them praise and fear can't make her own decisions?” She saw his sneer from the corner of her eye.

She shook her head, “If I refuse, I won't climb the ranks. They'll demote me.”

“As if that's the worst thing in the world in exchange for doing what you want. What do you want?” His words demanding an answer from her

“I don't know, I want to continue to research and learn.” She felt a pain in her chest unlike anything she felt since she died, she knew what she wanted but she couldn't admit it even to herself. Unless she wanted to spiral into Tremere madness once again.

“I'll pass the tests, I want you to decide how you want to live your undeath.” 

He walked past her, he moved quickly out of the library quickly and she was left standing there, emotions swirling in her chest unlike anything else and it tore her apart. The madness felt ever encroaching, words spun in front of her eyes. Magic unfurled in her mind, “I want you.” She whispered to the air. “I want to be around you, be your everything, make you obsessed like you make me.” She gripped the books in her hands feeling them creak and bend in her grasp. A door slammed behind her and reality snapped back into place causing her to stumble in place as every sound and feeling crashed into her, she leaned onto the shelf in front of her. Doing everything she could not to fall to her knees and make a scene. 

Chris passed his tests, gaining praise even from the pastor for some of his feats and the way he took to his teachings. Arthur and Lucy were praised for how Chris succeeded and how they whipped him into shape, it almost made Lucy giggle she knew Chris was not going to stay this way. 

Arthur walked over to her, looking uncomfortable. She felt smug, “Yes Arthur?”

He bared his fangs for a moment, before cooling his expression. “I was told to thank you for helping me with Chris. I fear he would've failed without you.”

She looked out to the crowd, easily finding Christopher. “He wouldn't have, he was always going to succeed, they just wanted him to follow more rules.” She looked back at Arthur who watched her with a guarded gaze, “I trust you'll keep him safe? I don't want to have to come back and make good on my promises.” Her smile was full of venom.

“You're leaving? So soon?” He looked surprised

“They want me back in New York as soon as the season changes.” She crossed her arms and put on a smile when Christopher looked at her, “Don't tell him, let him enjoy his new position.”

He nodded and she made her way over to Christopher, he didn't even look at her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders easily. It felt like that's where she was meant to stay there, it pained her that she knew she was leaving probably without warning but she couldn't bring herself to tell him and watch his disappointment. “Here she is, the reason I was able to make it this far.” He said loudly, it was all static in her ears. The smile she planted on was fake and she didn't even know if she replied to people's congratulations. She soaked in his warmth against her ice cold skin, not knowing when she would be near him again. 

He led her back to his apartment after the party welcoming the apprentices into the pyramid. He opened the door and turned on the firelight, she stared around the apartment memorizing everything that made it Chris’ place. She sat on the couch, leaning against the arm when Chris sat down as well she stretched her legs over him. He rested a hand on her knee, he was staring at her face. “You wanna tell me what's going on? Or are you going to make me guess?” 

She looked into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He looked exhausted for a moment, his guard seemed down. “You think I wouldn't notice? You were off all night, it's like you were somewhere else. I've been around you almost every night for months now.” He ran his hand up and down her calf.

“I…” She swallowed, “I'm going back to New York, when spring comes I'll be going back.” She watched his face closely.

“That's in a week.” He stated and she nodded, “You're just going like that?” His face became rigid, “Were you going to leave without a word?”

She stopped moving, “I didn't want to…”

“You didn't want me to try and stop you? Is that it?” His hand paused and clenched and relaxed quickly, it almost hurt.

“No I didn't want to ruin the experience for you, it should be a time to celebrate. You've made it, be proud. You don't need me around, you'll do just fine.” Her words were shaky.

“Do you think I only got close to you for what you could do for me?” His voice rose in anger, “I wouldn't have stuck around you, I would've kicked you out. You think I have a problem telling people what I think?” 

“That's not what I meant, I wanted to comfort you that you don't need me.” She made a movement to touch his hand but decided against it.

“You didn't do a good job of it.” He muttered, “I just want you to decide for yourself and whether you stay here or go back to New York, I don't care. As long as the church doesn't control you.”

They didn't speak after that and as she felt weariness set into her bones, she didn't move and neither did Chris. Like both of them wanted to savor this moment, one moment she was alert and then she felt the heaviness set in and she was out.

The next moment she was awake and Chris was gone, he must raise earlier compared to other kindred. He was at his fridge with a blood pouch in his hand, he was looking at her. When he saw she was awake he brought a blood pouch to her, she thanked him and drank deeply until it was gone. It was cold and not the most pleasant but it satisfied her hunger for the moment.

The week passed with Lucy tying up loose ends in the church as well as spending time with Chris, they went out and he showed her Houston as she didn't get a chance to see it since her life was consumed by making sure Chris made it to the pyramid.

Then she was back in New York, the next few years passed in dull monotony. She kept making payments on the house in Houston, hoping one day to return. When she returned she made the request to go back to Houston, she waited for the word that she could return. She's never asked for anything and yet it took years for them to get back to her, when they did they approved her request. She put her apartment up for sale and packed her life up and went back to Texas. They made sure she worked for it, and she grinned and bore every task they threw at her. Whether it was a simple delivery or a ritual they needed done, she did it all without complaint.

“I want to return to Houston. I believe my time there will be useful. It is a smaller sect that could use a reagent around. I’ve already been there so I’d be a good fit.” Lucy stood in front of the primogen of New York. He was an older man, in his forties. His hair was just starting to grey at the temples.

“Lucy, you’ve been asking this for years now, what draws you to Houston? It’s not Camarilla ran, the Sheriff doesn’t abide by our laws.” His voice was rough as if he was a smoker before he turned.

“And yet he lets us stay there and conduct our business as long as we don’t interfere with him. I believe I can bring us closer to the Sheriff and maybe get a Camarilla foothold,” She looked around the room, “Though maybe we can make the Tremere presence stronger there before the Camarilla has a chance to take the place.”

“You think you can pave the way for us to take Houston?”

“It’s a long shot and one I don’t know if it’s possible, the Sheriff is known as the fastest shot in the west and I don’t think it’s just a euphemism.” She leaned forward on the table, her elbows resting as she looked at the primogen. “The Tremere are needed, our knowledge is invaluable even to the Sheriff.”

“Fine, you may go. With my blessing, bring Houston to us.” Lucy nodded and stood up, “Though Lucy remember to continue your own research for the good of the church. Let me know if that path will take you from Houston.”

“Of course father.” She nodded and walked out the door.

When she made it to the church in Houston, she met the pastor and let him know she was there to stay and she waited till the end of the conversation to ask where Chris was. She watched surprise flicker across the pastor's face, “He doesn't come around very often, chooses instead to be a P.I. he still pays his tithe and hasn't cut ties. He did fall into the same trap most young Tremere do and courted madness too closely for a year or so.” She wasn't surprised to hear the news that he went mad, a year was a short amount of time compared to some including herself. “Maybe you'll help him come back to the fold, I remember how close you two were.” His smile was gentle, she wasn't naive enough to believe it was a harmless blessing, he wanted her to convince him to bring his research back to the church, hating to lose such a precious resource.

“A P.I? Surprising. Thank you, I will take my leave.” She stood up, and walked out the door. Some seemed surprised to see her and some stayed out her way, probably fearing she came back for a vengeance.

She called his business, “Hello, thank you for calling, what can I do for you tonight?” A woman's voice was on the other side, for a moment worry spread through the pit of her stomach. Maybe he wouldn't be happy to see her, maybe he forgot her completely, he was young and she wouldn't be surprised. “Hello?” 

Lucy snapped back to reality, “Uh yes, I was wondering if I could speak with Mr. Sepren?”

“May I ask what it's  concerning?” The woman's voice was soothing, low and sweet.

“I wish to hire him.” She lied on the spot, not knowing what would allow her to talk to him.

The woman transferred her call, it rang a few times and she got worried he wouldn't answer, but then the line opened, “Christopher Sepren speaking, who is this?” His voice was deep, just as she remembered she could imagine him leaning back in his chair, trench coat hanging on a coat rack as he sat with a button down shirt. Her breath caught for a moment. “Hello, listen if this isn't a serious-”

“It is, it is.” She rushed out, “This may be better to speak in person, should I make an appointment?” 

“I have some time tonight in about two hours, can you make it by then?” His words flowed over her like water, it was refreshing. She was well and truly fucked.

“I can, I'll be there thank you.” 

“I didn't-” He was cut off as she hung up the phone. 

She was so nervous, she didn't know what to do with herself for two hours. She checked and double checked that she looked alright, her pencil skirt beginning to wrinkle with how much she fretted with it and she couldn't decide if it was appropriate to show cleavage. Then the time came for her to leave and she couldn't worry about it a moment longer. She drove and parked in a nearby parking garage, fixing her lipstick one last time before stepping out and heading to the building. She walked up a few flights of stairs, thankful that she couldn't get winded. 

She walked up to the door with frosted glass and opened it gently, “Hello? I um have an appointment?” She said as she stepped in, she saw a pretty blonde sitting at the receptionist desk. Her hair was curled and styled, she looked alive but it didn't help to settle her stomach that Chris had found a mortal to pass time with. It wouldn't have bothered her but it meant her chances lowered a lot.

“Hi!” The woman, her desk read Mary, was much more bubbly in person. “Yes, I was told to expect you. You can wait in Chris, I mean Mr. Sepren’s office. He should return soon.” Her smile was easy going, Lucy thought maybe she could like Mary if for the moment the beast didn't growl and wanted her to rip Mary limb from limb and drink her dry. She swallowed unintentionally and nodded walking to the office door that was pointed to. 

Lucy stepped inside and immediately recognized Chris’ cologne, she breathed deeply and looked around. His trench coat was gone and the office was minimal if a bit messy, she took a seat on one of the chairs facing the desk and straightened her skirt. Her mind raced a mile a minute, wondering what kind of reunion she could expect, if it went poorly she didn't have a back up plan. She would have to hope that he avoided the church as much as the pastor said he did. She couldn't stop herself from fidgeting with the necklace she wore, she moved it back and forth. Before she heard heavy footsteps and Mary’s bubbly voice through the door, she dropped her necklace and sat her hands in her lap hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt. 

She heard the door open, and the rustle of leather. “I apologize for making you wait.” He said as he walked to the side of her, not yet sparing her a glance. “Some matters took-” He finally looked at her and her stomach flipped. She stared at him, of course he hadn't aged a day since she last saw him. His eyes were still bright and his skin still flushed with life, his hair was windswept and he was still handsome and gangly. “Lucy?” His voice a whisper, he stood motionless waiting for something, his eyes wide with disbelief.

It's like time stood still in a way kindred don't often experience, she wanted to keep this moment. The moment of indecision where any possibility could be reality, the moment of quiet before everything turned upside down. Their eyes never left the other, both searching for something. “I made a decision.” She whispered, not wanting to break the silence but it did. The moment was lost forever, too late for any regrets.

“Did you?” He sounded incredulous, an eyebrow raising.

“I did. I wasn't sent here, well I mean not entirely. I requested to be sent back here,” She paused, watching him “Permanently.” He angled his body slightly away from her, she took it as a bad sign, “Uh, I'm sorry for not mentioning it was me earlier. I didn't know what the reaction would be.”

“And what did you want the reaction to be?” He was guarded, taking a seat in his chair leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of him. 

“It's already better than I expected, to be honest. I expect to be thrown out immediately.” Her eyes didn't leave his face, watching for any negative reaction.

He was silent for a few minutes, which made her mess with her skirt again before he stood up and it took him only a few steps to reach her. He leaned down to her height and she prepared for the worst, but instead she was enveloped in his arms. She didn't move for a moment before wrapping her arms tightly around his back, she felt him press his face into her neck breathing deeply. “I missed you.” He whispered, she could his lips move against her skin and if she was capable of crying this would've made her. She gripped him more tightly against, almost knocking him off balance and onto the floor.

“I missed you too, even though you're an absolute nightmare to teach.” She breathed against him, she could feel his slow heart beat against her, his pulse beneath her mouth. They stayed like that for a few minutes, time slowed for Lucy.

“You loved every moment of it.” He pulled away from her, keeping his hands on her shoulders. 

She placed a hand on top of his and squeezed gently. “I don't know if I'd say love.” Her smile betrayed her, he returned it.

Life wasn't so monotonous anymore.

---------

Meet Lucy Grey, probably not her real name, a old Tremere. She was mostly suppose to be a receptionist but as games progressed she became a real character. Maybe I'll write a bit more of her backstory someday.

Let me know if you enjoyed! This was written awhile ago so my writing wasn't as refined and I did change some Tremere lore. I liked the idea of magic making you go crazy for a time because their brain is trying to comprend the magic they use.

Next week is my favorite OC, hope you looking forward to it. Let me know if you want to see anything else. I'm very open to prompts tho I make no promises <3

@tippytappytyping @belladonna-lavender @froggyishere @ellie-anor @nikijakalope @pent-tent

[tokoumaru]

୨୧ haikyuu boys' music taste

feat. kuroo, tsukishima, akaashi tags. headcanons/fluff/established relationship tw. none!

synopsis. haikyuu men and their music tastes! (and how they show it to you)

kuroo tetsurou

you knew that kuroo had always lived with his father and his grandparents, but what you didn't know was how growing up with them affected his music taste greatly.

kuroo loved his grandparents to death and would always love talking about the environment he was raised in to you whenever he had the chance.

during a cuddle session, you had found out that in his youth, his grandfather would always bust out their old record player and play the most saccharine and not to mention- oldest love songs known to humankind.

afterwards, his grandfather would never fail to pull his grandmother up from the couch and bring her into the most sickeningly sweet slow-dance- all for young kuroo to see.

at first, young kuroo would always pretend to disgustingly gag at the sight, but as he grew older there would be a sort of longing in his heart that would hope he could do the same with his special someone in the future as well.

well, maybe he could, now that you're in his arms

"tetsuro! put me down please!" you giggled out as you tried to rip away your boyfriend's tight grip on your waist.

a few moments earlier, kuroo held you tight in his arms on your bed, his warmth permeating through your shirt. It was just your usual cuddle session, him whispering how his day went into your ear and you listening as you play with the stray strands of hair that hit his face.

though, right before he manhandled you, you saw the mischievous glint in his cat-like eyes and knew that something was bound to happen.

"just a moment, kitten"

smirking, he gently placed you over his should while securely holding you with his left arm. "wipe that stupid smirk off you're face, I'm going to kill you!" with your head hanging upside down you clawed at his back, careful not to actually hurt him.

kuroo let out a raspy laugh, giving your bum a light pat as he continued to move towards the little record player in the corner of his room.

"hm... no- not this one... too sweet... no- not this one either." grumbing, he fiddled with the stack of records, trying to search for the perfect song.

"heh... you're going to love this one, kitten."

after giving your bum another victorious pat at the discovery, he fished the pristine record from it's slightly old sleeve and placed it on the record player.

"this better be worth the interruption of our cuddle session and most especially the manhandling, kuroo." you grumbled as he gently put you down on the center of his bedroom.

gradually, the record player starts to play, and slowly do you start to recognize the familiar beats the followed through.

clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade

"tetsuro! out of all the possible songs-"

"may i have this dance, mademoiselle?" kuroo curtsied you with his head bowed, and although you couldn't directly see his countenance, you just knew he had that stupid smirk of his on his face.

still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away

"people don't slow-dance to whitney houston kuroo."

"who said we were going to slow-dance?" kuroo laughed as he pulled your hands and lead you into a little twirl.

i've done alright up to now it's the light of day that shows me how

unable to keep your façade of anger any longer, you couldn't help but let out a snort at your boyfriend, whose hips were shaking to the discotheque beat, pulling out the oldest dance moves from the book.

and when the night falls, loneliness calls

with crinkled eyes and a smile on your face, you soon decided to follow after him, the two of you dancing as if it was only both of you in this world.

some songs kuroo would love: I wanna dance by whitney houston, golden slumbers by the beatles, shes always a woman/vienna by billy joel, back to the old house by the smiths, just like heaven by the cure, foolish heart by steve perry, crazy for you by madonna, til they take my heart away by clair marlo

tsukishima kei

you knew tsukki brought his earphones everywhere he went with him, and if there was ever a time he'd forget them at home he would get really grumpy.

you'd always ask him what he was listening to, and at the start of your relationship he would be a bit hesitant to tell you- saying his usual caustic remarks

"tsukki, what are you listening to now?"'

"even if I told you, it's not like you would recognize who they were."

god, you wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face so bad.

but, as your relationship grew, tsukishima had started to open up more, and now every walk to school and walk home, he would silently offer you his left earbud and you would listen to his music together.

you'd recognize a few artists here and there, but you were clueless to the majority of it. though, you did think alternative/indie rock did suit tsukishima a lot.

sooner or later did you realize that maybe your boyfriend was right, because you really didn't recognize any of the artists you'd hear... so maybe he did have the right to be a bit pretentious about how superior his music taste was.

"ooh... I like this song tsukki! what's it called?" you gripped your boyfriends slender hands a bit tighter, trying to catch his attention.

both of you were walking home from karasuno, with tsukki just having finished his training for today. it was quite late, and the sun was in the midst of setting, it's pink hues covering the sky.

it’s only myself now, its just me

the sweat from the walk made strands of hair stick to your forehead, and you were a bit out of breath. you probably guessed your hair was a mess too, knowing that you forgot to bring your comb with you today.

so, as you turned to look at him, you're heart never would've expected to see the look of utmost love in tsukishima's eyes as he stared at your oblivious ones.

if you’d only considered it, this would end

you knew your boyfriend was never one for words, and that he expressed his affection towards you in subtle actions as well... but it was the first time you had seen him look at you so fondly. it shook your heart to the core seeing such a vulnerable look on your boyfriend's normally stoic face.

pulled out of your trance, tsukishima slightly leaned down and gently cupped your ruddy cheeks with his free hand, his eyes soft and eyebrows relaxed.

I wonder why it’s only you, it’s only you that comes to mind

"tsukki I-" you stuttered as you tried to form a coherent sentence, obviously struggling.

tsukishima, with emotional eyes contrasting his rigid face, held your cheeks for a second longer before he slowly tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

he didn't think you were as beautiful as you were in that moment, the last rays of the setting sun caressing your tired face in the gentlest of ways with the beat of his favorite song matching the way your hair swayed in the wind.

"it's... short hair by base ball bear... I can't believe you didn't know of such a well-known song."

that day, I realized my feelings after I touched your short hair

with his golden eyes narrowed, he quickly snatched his left earphone from your ear, leaving a lingering touch behind, before breezing past you with a faster pace than usual.

stunned, you stood there trying to process the situation, needing a moment to calm your thumping heart. though, if you had only turned your head, you would catch sight of how red the tips of tsukishima's ears were.

some songs tsukki would love: funny bunny by the pillows, transfer girl by base ball bear, aphrodite by the ridleys, she's got you high by mumm-ra, have I been a fool by jack penate, and maybe maybe by lola amour

akaashi keiji

as akaashi's girlfriend, you're immediately treated with the utmost respect and so much more.

because in truth, akaashi keiji is quite the romantic at heart.

during both of your's study sessions, he would always use his phone to play a few accoustic love songs.

he said it helped him focus better, and helped him distract himself from his phone (and the endless messages bokuto-san would send him)

the strums of the guitar would always help him calm down from his hectic school days, after all, his ears needed a break from all of bokuto's excited yelling.

and in moments just between you two, he always loved how the soft strum of the guitar accompanied the sound of your voice as you animatedly talked to him about his day.

rather than helping him focus, akaashi knew that when his favourite songs started to play, he only found himself looking at you.

when I told you that I love you well I never would’ve guessed

the quiet hum of your air conditioner was accompanied by the low bass of the song that quietly rang through akaashi's speakers.

both of you were on the small table in the middle of your room, notebooks filled with pencil marks and textbooks covered in pastel highlighters splayed throughout the surface. it was just another one of yours and akaashi's after-school study sessions.

as it was nearing your midterms, you both knew you had to study even more than usual, which explains the comfortable silence between you two caused by your (uncommon) will to concentrate on your calculus homework.

that you'd end up loving me, too, and well you know the rest

too focused on the numbers on the sheet, you didn't quite notice that akaashi had stopped reading his literature homework, and instead, started to admire you.

in that morning birds were chirping and the grass was wet with dew

with his hand resting on the table and holding his chin, he tilted his head and adjusted his glasses just a bit.

the rays of the afternoon sun passed through your blinds and hit your face perfectly, highlighting every feature he loved about you.

in such peaceful moments like these, akaashi couldn't help but take breather and observe the nuances of the face of someone he loved so dearly. to him, it was the way you pouted ever so slightly when encountering a challenging problem, or the way your handwriting got a tad bit sloppier as you hastily wrote down an answer to a question you recognized...

"akaashi keiji, you've been staring at me for 5 minutes now! don't think I didn't notice." without lifting your head up from your notebook, you lightly scolded your boyfriend.

"sorry darling, I guess I just spaced out." recognizing the slight curve of your lip in jest, he smiled softly and grabbed his abandoned pencil once more, returning back to his studies.

there and then I saw the world from a different point of view

though, not before sneakily glancing at your figure one last time, a fond look on his face.

some songs akaashi would love: germany & rome by the ridleys, my little corner of the world by yo la tengo, my favourite book by stars, kataomoi by aimer, please speak well of me by the weepies, golden by harry styles, fall by ben&ben, and layla (accoustic) by eric clapton

a/n. my first headcanon and post ever! though I think i've made my boys a bit too ooc HELP...... also! small disclaimer regarding the lyrics of short hair... welp the english translated lyrics were wiped off the face of the internet so I had to resort to google translate. I really tried to make it as cohesive as possible since I didn't want to change the song! I hope it makes sense because the lyrics I translated are not official.

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Eleven

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 7043

The room was dark when I woke up. For a moment I thought surely I had awaken from another one of my nightmares, but I couldn’t recall anything other than ecstasy. That was when I turned my head to the right and saw the silhouette lying on the pillow beside mine. He slept on his stomach, one arm wrapped around the pillow as though he was snuggling with it, the other stretched out, his hand nearly underneath my own pillow.

I smiled when I heard him snoring softly. I started to roll over onto my side when I realized my reason for waking up. I had to pee.

After cleaning up in the bathroom, I tiptoed back to bed, careful not to jostle him. I laid on my side facing him, catching a glimpse of his face in the moonlight that streamed through the blinds.

I couldn’t believe he was in my bed - that we’d made love just hours before. He was so beautiful, so unreal. I reached out to touch his arm, lightly grazing it with my fingertips. Though I told myself I didn’t want to wake him, my need and desire to touch him was overwhelming.

I caressed his arm, down to his hand where I covered it with mine. I felt him stir and I froze, watching and waiting for any more movement. I smiled to myself when he lifted his fingers so as to thread them with mine. Then he pulled them towards himself and kissed them, my fingertips warm at contact.

“C’mere,” I heard him say, shifting onto his side.

I shimmied closer to him, my head landing in the crook of his arm. He dropped his other arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, kissing the top of my head. He tickled my lower back with his fingertips as I looked up to search his face, finding his bedroom eyes barely open, his plump lips parted and inviting.

He kissed me then, a sloppy, sleepy kiss that made me weak all over. He had a hold of me like he didn’t want to let go, and I’d never felt more safe and secure.

I let out a tiny little moan. Harry echoed it, kissing me deeper and harder, his hand cradling my neck. I didn’t push him back this time. I was ready and willing to give him whatever he wanted from me. But in the end, Harry only separated from the kiss to press his forehead to mine as he breathed heavily. Then he ran his hand down my shoulder and arm and grabbed my waist once more with a squeeze.

We fell asleep like that, Harry first, so I listened to the patterns of his breathing which eventually soothed me into my own slumber.

He was gone before the girls got up the next morning. Tod was arriving at ten, and Harry didn’t want there to be any weirdness or confusion, and I didn’t blame him. I kissed him at the door where he told me he’d be back that evening and we’d go to dinner before the concert.

After breakfast, Tod showed up to pick up the girls, and I kissed and hugged them goodbye. Then I made a beeline for my closet, pulling out anything I thought remotely looked like something I’d wear to a concert. Quickly I vetoed several shirts and a pair of skintight jeans that I knew I had worn to concerts years ago with Tod. They probably didn’t even fit me anymore. I had a pretty cool leather jacket, but even though it was November, it wasn’t cold enough in Houston yet for layers. In the end, the only items I deemed wearable were a pair of black boots and a so-so pair of jeans that had seen better days. Time to go shopping.

On a normal occasion such as this, I would have invited Lorelei to go with me, but since she had left for Australia, I was on my own. It was just as well. I loved my friend, but she’d no doubt be trying to get me to purchase some sort of leather bustier. No thanks. Besides, I enjoyed shopping by myself.

The mall was crowded, but I managed to find something I liked - a pretty flowing fabric top (a la Stevie) and a pair of jeans that made my butt look amazing. I knew I could add my black boots and some of my favorite jewelry and make it the perfect concert outfit.

I stopped at the food court to grab some lunch and check my phone. I already had a text from Harry saying he’d be at my place by five. I told him that was fine. I had no idea where we’d be going for dinner, but since I didn’t live all that close to the venue, I knew there would be traffic.

Before leaving the mall, I stopped at the lingerie store. I hadn’t originally planned on it, but somehow my legs took me there. I picked out a lovely matching bra and panty set to wear underneath my new outfit.

When I got home, I showered, making sure I shaved where needed and that my skin was baby soft when I finished. Wrapped in my towel, I chose my Stevie Nicks playlist on my phone to listen to while I got ready. Then I sprayed my favorite perfume and stepped into my new panties. I had to admit, I immediately thought of Harry’s hands removing them later and I got turned on. After completing my ensemble, I applied my makeup, a little heavier than I’d usually wear during the day, but not too much. I tousled my curls with a small amount of gel, letting it fall across my shoulders. Then stepping back to take a final look in the mirror, I smiled at myself. I looked pretty damn good.

My doorbell rang exactly at five. I almost wondered if Harry had sat in the car and waited until just the right moment. But none of it mattered once I opened the door.

“Wow,” Harry mouthed.

I blushed as I smiled at my feet and then back at him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

It was no lie. He wore a solid white shirt that probably cost more than my sofa, open to reveal his tattoos, his cross necklace displayed in the center of his chest, and his usual black jeans. This time, however, I noticed he wore a different pair of brown boots with fringe on the sides. He looked exquisite, and I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky to be going out with such a rockstar.

“You ready?” he held out his hand for me.

“Yep,” I nodded, grabbing my bag and following him out the door. I took his hand as we descended the stairs to the parking lot.

I saw the black car sticking out like a sore thumb, but fortunately my neighbors weren’t all that nosy. The driver opened the door for me, and I got in the back seat, Harry sliding in after me. He immediately took my hand again, and I smiled as he brought it to his lips and then set our joined hands in his lap.

“So where are we going for dinner?” I asked curiously.

“Just some place that came recommended,” he replied. “Near the Toyota Center.”

“Oh.” I didn’t bother to ask him who recommended it or what the name of it was. If it was good enough for Harry Styles, it was certainly good enough for me.

We drove up 45 North towards downtown, and as I watched the familiar scenery go by, I had to laugh to myself. But I hadn’t realized I’d done it out loud until Harry nudged me.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” I stared at him for a second, trying to string my thoughts together. “I’ve either driven or ridden as a passenger up and down this freeway for years. I know it like the back of my hand almost. Even been to the Toyota Center a few times. Saw Fleetwood Mac there, actually; they were the first concert after it opened. But I never would have thought…I’d be sitting here in the back of a car…with you. On our way to a restaurant I’m certain I’ve never been to.”

I was relieved when Harry echoed my laugh and squeezed my hand.

“It’s kinda weird, I guess,” I crinkled my nose.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he said. “Just think of it as a normal date.”

I blinked. “I suppose this is like our second date, huh?”

Harry pondered my question for a moment, then shrugged. “If you wanna think of it that way. But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I’m not just considering the times I took you out as our only dates. Our first date was the night I came over and we had pizza and that amazing first kiss.”

“Oh,” I grinned slowly as I felt my cheeks grow pink.

“And I definitely consider last night one,” he continued. “Even if it was a surprise.”

I bit my lip as he leaned closer.

“And I slept in your bed, Stacey,” he murmured low. “That has to count for something.”

I nodded. “Definitely does.”

I focused on his mouth as he seemed to be doing the same with mine.

“And if you count all the phone calls,” he added before lifting my chin with his finger, his lips so close to mine they were almost touching, “and FaceTime calls…” he lightly kissed the corner of my mouth, “and texts…” then the other corner, “I’d say we’ve had a lot of dates.”

His eyelids were heavy before he shut them completely, his lips capturing mine. It was a very gentle, tender kiss, almost too quick, but lovely nonetheless.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said softly, our mouths separated but still so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

“No need to thank me yet,” he whispered with a lopsided grin. “The evening’s just begun.”

“Well…thank you anyway, in advance,” I smiled, tugging on the tail of his shirt. “I’m excited to see Stevie with you.”

“Me too, baby.”

The driver pulled up to the curb a few minutes later and opened the door for us. I recognized the downtown streets, but not the restaurant. When we stepped out onto the sidewalk, Harry lightly placed his hand on my back and opened the door for me. I felt a little flip in my stomach at the knowledge that I was about to be seen in public with a celebrity, but I made sure my face and demeanor didn’t show it. I remained cool as a cucumber when the Maitre D took us to a table, and a young waiter quickly appeared to greet us and take our drink orders.

Dinner was pleasant, with easy conversation and delicious food and wine. I did notice that Harry never made any physical contact with me, but I was fine with it. I wasn’t sure how many people were watching, even though our table was dark and somewhat private. I knew that the press and paparazzi would have a field day if they had any inkling that Harry Styles was out on a date. In Houston, Texas no less.

Before dessert, which Harry insisted we order, I excused myself to the ladies room. I smiled at a woman who was washing her hands as I walked past her to the stall. When I returned to wash my own hands, she was still there, slowly applying her lipstick and watching me like a hawk. I gave her a small smile again, feeling a bit uneasy. She didn’t return it. Instead, she dropped her lipstick into her bag and began fluffing her hair. I deliberately took out my own tube of lipstick, applying it in the same fashion she had hers, popping my lips together in a teenage-like kiss. Then I ran my fingers through my hair just like she had, letting the curls cascade down with a bounce. Our eyes met once more in the mirror as I grabbed the strap of my purse and slung it over my shoulder.

“Enjoy your evening,” I said, turning for the door.

Shaking my head as I walked down the alcove, I considered that perhaps I had been a little too smug to the stranger. She didn’t know me from Adam, and she might not have had any clue whom I was there with. It was just probably my own paranoia.

When I returned to the table, Harry beamed up at me, gesturing toward the decadent concoction in the middle of it.

“Oh, Jesus,” I groaned.

Harry handed me a spoon when I sat down, telling me to dig in. The fruit was fresh, the ice cream most definitely Haagen Dazs. The cake underneath was the most moist and delicious I’d probably ever eaten, and by the end, Harry and I were giggling as our spoons clinked together to get the last scoop.

“You take it,” I insisted, sitting back in my chair. “I’m stuffed.”

By the time we made it back to the car, the sky was dark, the streets lit up with excitement as though it anticipated the evening’s plans and surprises. My senses were on alert, the smell of cigarettes and cologne in the air. My skin tingled not just from the slightly cooler temperature, but from the rush I always got from going to a concert. Me entire body was turned on like a lamp, and Harry hadn’t even touched me yet.

Pulling up to the venue, once again the driver opened the door for me and helped me out of the car. I felt Harry’s hand on my back immediately, making me turn to look at him.

“Dunno if there’ll be cameras,” he whispered, “but just in case, stay close. If you see a flash, just keep walking. You don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to. I’ve got you. Alright?”

I stared at him for a second, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

To be honest, it hadn’t even dawned on me that there might be cameras around. I just thought of it as Houston, my turf. Other than the woman in the ladies room, nothing else had seemed suspicious.

We walked together briskly to the entrance, making it inside smoothly. I breathed a sigh of relief as Harry guided me to an area off to the right that was roped off, where a man in a suit stood with his hands folded in front of him. Harry pulled out his phone, holding it up for the man. I watched as he scanned it with a device, making a beeping sound, and then handing it back to Harry without so much as a flinch. Harry pocketed his phone again and grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go,” he wiggled his brows and pulled me through a black curtain that the man now held open.

The electricity surged right through to my toes when I saw the stage. It was closer than I’d imagined - not that I’d really imagined much. I didn’t want to assume that because Harry was, well, Harry, that we would be up close and personal. But this was definitely close. And we weren’t even at our seats yet.

Harry continued to hold my hand as we maneuvered through the crowd, finally stopping at the end of an aisle. It seemed to be some sort of VIP section, a little off to the side. Harry pointed at the seat next to where he stood and I sat down, taking in the view.

“Wow, this is great,” I commented, bouncing in my seat.

“Excited?” Harry nudged my shoulder.

“I always get excited before the show’s about to start. Just the energy in the room. I can feel it all throughout my body. The anticipation is so great.”

“Like Christmas morning?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking around at the audience.

“Or...that moment right before a kiss…” Harry continued.

I caught his expression out of the corner of my eye, quickly returning my gaze to the crowd.

“Exactly,” I mouthed.

I smiled when I spotted a girl on the front row in a layered dress, platform boots and a shawl. She twirled in front of her friends, giving her best Stevie and receiving a few claps and cheers.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t wear that,” I heard Harry whisper in my ear.

“Did that,” I smirked, turning to his face that was barely an inch from mine. “About fifteen years and twenty pounds ago.”

He returned my grin, his eyes traveling down my features and back up. “Bet you looked beautiful.”

I shrugged. “Not too bad. It was a black sparkly dress with spaghetti straps and a handkerchief hem. I had the boots and an old shawl that was my mother’s and-”

Three things happened then simultaneously that interrupted my thoughts. First, I could have sworn I heard someone scream “Haaaarrrryyyy!” really loud off in the distance. Second, the lights went out and the crowd went wild. Third, I was pretty sure Harry had been about to kiss me. Right there. In public.

I didn’t have time to really consider it when Stevie appeared on stage, walking up to her microphone adorned with ribbons and flowers. She opened with “Outside The Rain”, immediately going into “Dreams”, just as she had for many years. Then she did her greeting speech which made the audience erupt into cheers again.

Just like before when I’d seen Stevie, I was mesmerized by her. I’d almost forgotten I was there with Harry until I looked over at him. He was just as captivated. My heart flipped and my breath caught in my throat as I watched him watch her. It was a really beautiful moment, and for a second I wished I had a camera.

Harry didn’t peel his eyes away from Stevie, but somehow he knew I was looking at him. He lifted his hand and reached over to grab mine in my lap. He didn’t bother to bring it to his own lap, or even to let our joint hands dangle between us. He seemed content to let them remain in my lap, on my upper thigh. Taking a quick gander around, I concluded that there was no way anyone could see anyhow, especially since I could barely see them myself. Returning my attention to Stevie, I began dragging my thumb across the back of Harry’s hand and playing with his rings. I felt him squeeze my thigh, but instead of jumping out of my chair, I somehow sank deeper into it, wanting him to do it again. He began to draw circles on my leg with his finger tips, still intertwined with mine. I looked at him again, both of us mouthing the words to “Gypsy” as Stevie sang.

I have no fear...I have only love…

When the song was over, Harry finally released my hand to clap and whistle. I wanted to stand up and cheer, but I also wanted to grab him and kiss him. I couldn’t tell if I was really turned on, or if I had to pee. And the worst thing about concerts is missing something because you have to go to the bathroom. And because I was such a Stevie fan, I couldn’t find a song I was willing to miss.

Finally, halfway through “New Orleans”, I decided to suck it up and go. I nudged Harry to let him know. He smiled and nodded, lightly grazing his knuckles across mine as I rose from my chair. I thought I would have to wait in a line just like any other concert I’d been to, but I was surprised to see there wasn’t one when I turned the corner. In fact, there was a private little alcove right there next to the VIP section and I walked right in.

I almost stopped in my tracks when I saw a woman at the sink, putting on lipstick. For second, I thought it was the same woman from the restaurant, which would have been both spooky and awkward. But when I walked past her, I caught her smile as she dropped her lipstick tube into her bag. She indeed looked familiar, but not from the restaurant. She was some sort of celebrity, but I couldn’t seem to place her. I racked my brain trying to remember, hoping that getting another glimpse of her would jog my memory, but when I returned from the stall, she was gone.

As I made my way back to my seat, Stevie’s band was just starting “Stand Back”. I beamed a huge smile when I saw that Harry had risen from his chair, his arms above his head as he clapped to the beat, his hips swaying back and forth. I quickly joined him, singing along.

One man did not fall… He asked me for my love, that was all…

With childlike glee, Harry turned to me, took my hands and danced with me. There wasn’t much leg room, but we managed to dance the entire song, and I even did my best twirl, much to Harry’s delight. When Stevie began introducing the band, Harry still had a hold of my hands, his dimpled grin spreading from ear to ear, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. He was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted him to kiss me. Badly.

My chest still heaving, I released one of my hands to run it through my hair. That was when I heard the chords of the next song.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe she’s doing this song!” I exclaimed.

Harry wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, our hips colliding. I sang along to “Crying in the Night” as I felt Harry rest his chin on my shoulder. When the harmony part came, he began to murmur the words in my ear, singing along with me like he had on the phone. Only this wasn’t just any duet. His voice vibrated in my eardrums, and I came so close to turning my head to find his lips. I managed to keep my restraint.

For the next couple of songs, Harry and I took our seats again. I never once looked behind me, though I wondered if anyone was watching us. I supposed I was afraid to find out.

When the “Edge of Seventeen” riff started up, Harry and I stood up once more, and we danced again. This time, he even turned around and danced with other people. I giggled at all of it, having the time of my life. By the time Stevie walked off stage, my cheeks hurt.

The lights went out on the stage then, but of course I knew it wasn’t over. Time for the encore of “Rhiannon” and “Landslide”. I was about to sit down and rest when Harry pulled me to him in a bear hug.

“You’re the best,” he breathed in my ear. “So much fun. Love being with you.”

As always, Harry said the perfect thing at the perfect moment. I had no words. When he released me from the hug, I let my hand slide down his cheek. When it dropped from his chin, he picked it back up, allowing his cheek to lean into it as he closed his eyes.

Stevie walked back out onto the stage then, the crowd all bounding to their feet when the intro to “Rhiannon” started. But Harry didn’t open his eyes. He remained in his spot, my hand cradling his face, his beautiful lips parted as he puffed out slow, even breaths. He looked completely content, like a baby that had been soothed and was ready for a nap.

“Harry…” I leaned in, hoping he could hear me. He shook his head.

“Stay here a minute.”

My chest shook as I chuckled, unsure what he was doing. But he was so darn adorable, I couldn’t resist. Stevie had already sung the first line, so I continued.

All your life you’ve never seen a woman, taken by the wind… Would you stay if she promised you heaven… Will you ever win…

The corners of Harry’s mouth curled up as I continued to sing, his dimple dipping deeper underneath my thumb. It was doubtful that he could even hear me over all the other people screaming off key, but his smile was all I needed to urge me forward. Finally, during the breakdown in the music, when Stevie would normally do her witchy twirl and start her ad libbing, Harry lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “Had a moment.”

I just stared at him, my brows raised. He took my hand again and faced forward, and we watched the rest of Stevie’s “Rhiannon” exorcism like that, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

Though I knew “Landslide” was the final song, and I had seen Stevie sing it many times over, I still wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t prepared to get choked up from the opening verse. I wasn’t prepared for Harry to notice and move to stand behind me and wrap his arms around me. I wasn’t prepared for him to sing it in my ear, his deep voice permeating throughout my body down to my toes. I wasn’t prepared to feel so weak and vulnerable. And I wasn’t prepared when he whispered in my ear.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. Please don’t cry. I’ve got you.”

With a shaky breath, I leaned into him slightly, silently thanking him. I’d heard that song a million times, and though I felt like it spoke to me, I wasn’t sure it ever truly had until that moment.

I’ve been afraid of changing… Cause I’ve built my life around you… But time makes you bolder… Children get older… And I’m getting older too…

Harry swayed with me, rocking me from side to side. I felt safe. I felt cared for. I felt wanted.

When the song ended and Stevie was giving a farewell speech, Harry whispered in my ear once more.

“We should probably go. Beat the crowds.”

I nodded. I knew he didn’t mean just for traffic reasons.

We made it to the awaiting car in less than five minutes, much to my relief. I realized as I climbed inside that Harry still had a hold of my hand, and he didn’t let go as he climbed in behind me. I smiled at our joined hands between us on the seat, then up at him. He immediately leaned over, his other hand brushing my hair from my face.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, wiping away a stray tear. “Just got emotional in there.”

Before I could add another syllable or breath, Harry pressed his mouth to mine. I kissed him back, opening my mouth and allowing our tongues to meet. I sighed as he leaned closer and I pulled him back with me, grabbing at his cross that dangled from his neck. We were already on the freeway when he finally separated from the kiss. He still hovered over me, his plump, wet lips and heavy breathing revealing his desire.

“Please tell me I get to make love to you again tonight.”

I raised my brows, slowly dragging my teeth across my bottom lip as I reached my arm around his waist. “Please tell me that was a given.”

He chuckled low, shaking his head slightly.

“Just didn’t wanna be presumptuous again.”

“Sugar,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I think...from now on...it’s safe to say my answer’s always yes.”

“This is very good information,” he declared with a grin, running a hand up my outer thigh.

“Yes,” I nodded. “But don’t get too cheeky with it.”

“Cheeky with it? Is that like gettin’ jiggy with it?”

I burst out laughing. “No. Not even close.”

“Oh.”

He continued to let his hands seduce the seam of my jeans. It was driving me crazy, but I wasn’t about to let him know. Not after his cheekiness.

“So, this yes answer…” he licked his lips. Dammit, Styles. “Does this apply to all questions or…”

“You’re pushing it, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?” he sat back slightly with a giggle. “I’m not a cowboy!”

“You’re not?”

“No. Not unless you’re ride-...wait!”

I laughed so hard I almost snorted. “You’re awful. I didn’t mean that at all.”

“Liar. Yes, you did!”

“I swear, I didn’t.”

My laughter was not convincing him. He narrowed his eyes at me and sat back in his seat with a pout. My leg missed his touch already.

“Stop it, Harry,” I said, giving my own pout.

“Stop what?”

“Being so damn cute. I can’t take it.”

He leaned his head back against the seat and turned it to look at me, his eyes dancing.

“Apparently you can...cowgirl.”

“Alright, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” he chuckled.

I scooted closer to him, rising up on my knees, my face close enough to kiss his.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“What for?”

“Being obnoxious.”

Harry’s eyes darted between mine and my lips that threatened to kiss his as he gave me his sexy smirk. “You weren’t, baby,” he said. “I was just teasing.”

“Okay. Good.”

I kissed him then, placing my hands on either side of his face. He moaned and wrapped his arms around me when my tongue asked for permission. I boldly swung my leg over his lap and straddled him, making him moan again, a sound I could never get tired of.

“Stacey...God, baby.”

My lips travelled down his neck, nibbling underneath his jawline. I loved tasting his skin and the little sounds he made as I did so.

“Mmm, baby...I like this.”

“Like what?” I asked, sitting up to look at him.

“This. You on top of me. Kissing me. Tasting me. I like it a lot.”

I licked my lips. “This is very good information.”

Harry scoffed with a grin before grabbing my hips and pulling me closer.

We made it through my front door after many attempts of unlocking it, my hands fumbling and Harry on my neck. I tossed my bag on the sofa as he shut the door behind me.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked him, making my way around the kitchen counter. “I’m dying of thirst.”

“Um...just water.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I opened the refrigerator, grabbing two bottles of water. Spinning around to the sink, I caught a glimpse of Harry walking slowly and deliberately into the kitchen, his fingers grazing the counter.

“These bottles are always hard to open,” I commented with a scowl, holding the first bottle over the sink, “and they fill them to the rim so they sometimes spill out all over the place.”

I heard his breathing before I felt his body pressed up against my back, his hands following, grabbing my hips and gliding them up my sides. I nervously sighed, trying my best to open the first bottle, taking a long swig of water. Then I set it down and reached for the second bottle, opening it easily despite my shaky hands. With Harry’s close proximity, it was difficult to turn around, but I somehow did, nearly knocking noses with him.

“H-here’s yours,” I barely whispered.

Harry eyed the bottle in my hand, then looked back at me. His eyes on me, he took the water and drank almost half the bottle in two large gulps, then set it on the counter behind me. Pushing his hips harder against me, Harry slid his hand underneath my ear, tilted his head and pressed his lips to mine. His other hand slid around to my back as I threw my arms around his neck, falling into the kiss. As our tongues collided, the chill from the water filled my mouth, making me tingle from head to toe. Slipping his hand from my neck down to my chest, Harry cupped my breast, his touch igniting a deeper fire within me. A tiny moan escaped my throat and Harry grabbed my waist, lifting me up to sit on the counter. I eagerly opened my legs, needing to feel him as closely as possible. With his eyelids heavy, he looked so completely delicious. His fingers resumed their touch on my upper thighs, this time with the added pressure of his thumbs. He stroked my legs down to my knees and back up, dangerously close to where I ached. And boy, did I ache. I wanted him, needed him, with every fiber of my being.

I wrapped my legs around him then, capturing his mouth in another deep kiss. I felt the rumble in his chest as he groaned against my lips. Lifting a hand from my thigh, he raked his fingers through my hair and cradled the back of my head, leaning me back as his tongue tangled with mine. I felt his hips move against me, his inevitable erection apparent and aching as much as I was.

With one small shift, Harry hoisted me up off the counter, my arms and legs still tight around him. Stepping back, he turned toward the hallway and carried me to my bedroom. The room was dark, but he didn’t turn on the light. I’d left the blinds open, and the moonlight streamed enough through them to cast a simple shadow. Ever so gently as though I were a china doll, he laid me down on the bed, his body hovering over mine. He kissed me over and over, so much that I began to wonder what his plan was. I considered asking him when he finally rose, kicked off his boots and lifted the hem of my shirt. I sat up to help him remove it, quickly lying back down. With hungry eyes, he slid his body down, his hands travelling the length of my legs. Finding the zippers of my boots, he pulled them off, dropping them at the foot of the bed. Then he made his way back up my legs again to the button on my jeans. Feeling a bit helpless, I just watched him as he tugged them off, adding them to the clothes pile.

“Very pretty,” he murmured, complimenting my new lingerie.

“Thanks.” I bit my lip as he hovered over me again.

“I like…”

His mouth found my chest then, the soft mound of skin above my bra. He pushed the strap down delicately before finding the clasp. He licked and sucked on my bare nipple as I arched my back. My breaths quickened, needing to feel him.

“Harry…” I gasped.

He merely nodded, his eyes on me as he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, then dropping the bra on the floor.

I reached for him, grasping at his shirt, desperate to get it off. Understanding my request, he simply pulled it over his head, not bothering with the rest of the buttons. I pulled him to me by his necklace, wanting to feel skin on skin. The cross tapped on my chest as I shut my eyes, but then I began to feel it drag down the center of my body. I protested with a whine as I looked down to see Harry situated between my legs, his lips kissing the edge of my panties.

“Harry...please...where…” I swallowed hard, “where’s the condom?”

“In a minute, baby,” he cooed.

“No. Now. Please. You’re driving me crazy.”

Harry chuckled then, a devilish tone that only made me want him more. He continued to nip at my skin, his fingers looping around the sides of my underwear.

“Fuck.”

“Patience, my love. I wanna taste you.”

My mouth made the O shape, but no sound came out. I felt my toes curl as Harry pulled my panties down and off. Then lifting one thigh with his hand, he kissed the inside of it, slowly, ever so achingly slowly, making his way to the center. My eyes rolled back when I felt his tongue meet my clit. Then I just about came when he hummed against me, his mouth devouring me like his favorite dessert.

He lifted my other thigh then, and I held it open with as much strength as I could. It was a wonder I could even breathe. I turned my head to the side, biting the side of my finger as he licked me, slowly with deliberate motions.

“Mmmm,” I began to moan. “Oh God.”

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck.”

I felt him hum against me again, and I about lost it. I grinded myself against his mouth, needing to feel my release. He sped up his tongue, licking in circles and side to side. I cried out then, looking down and seeing his eyes were on me, his hands squeezing my thighs. I came hard, watching him watching me.

“Holy shit…” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. My legs shook on the bed as Harry released them and climbed up over me.

“You taste so good,” he said, his voice low with sex.

“No, I don’t,” I shook my head.

Harry chuckled again. “Yeah, you do.”

Resting his elbows on either side of my head, he let his fingers push the curls off my forehead before kissing me down to my nose and then my mouth. I could taste myself on his tongue, and even though I never had any issues with that sort of thing, it seemed even more of a turn on then than it ever had before.

“See?”

I let out a breath slowly, lightly grazing my fingertips down his back to the waistband of his jeans that he unfortunately was still wearing. I found the button and zipper in the front, and Harry generously lifted his hips so I could slip my hand inside. I palmed his erection, watching his eyelids flutter.

“Sugar…” I whispered, using the term of endearment he seemed to like.

“Yeah, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

Harry licked his lips and swallowed, his eyelids closing softly as he nodded. “Yeah. I need it too.”

I watched as he rose again from the bed to remove his jeans and boxers. He produced a condom from his pocket - or wallet, I wasn’t sure - and slid it on with ease. Everything Harry did, it seemed, even making love, he did easily.

He kissed me again before entering me. I grabbed his hips, lifting my own to guide him where I needed him most. He let out a moan as he began to thrust harder and deeper. I lifted my legs, opening myself up to him completely.

“Jesus, Stacey…” he whined in my ear. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

I sucked on my bottom lip as I watched his face in the moonlight. Then I cupped it in my hands, capturing his lips. He cried in my kiss as I began to suck on his tongue. His hips moved slowly, and I could feel him, all of him. He was so hard, so good.

“Oh my God,” I moaned against his mouth.

“I know,” he breathed.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“‘m not. But…’m so close, baby.”

“I need...I need to feel like this...forever…”

I was talking gibberish, I knew. The sensation was just overwhelming, and I couldn’t get enough. I wrapped my legs around him again, wanting to be as close as possible. Harry slid his hands down my hips and back up to my waist, finally winding them around me. We moved as one, rocking back and forth. Harry’s breaths were so loud in my ear, I worried that he was okay until he sat up on his knees, pulling me with him.

I watched his face again as I grabbed his shoulders and began riding him. His eyelids seemed to get too heavy to remain open, his lips parted and swollen. I ran my fingers through his hair, whispering his name.

“Feels so good…” he groaned. “Aaah fuck me, baby.”

I rode him faster, reaching my peak just as he let out another groan and expletive. Our bodies shook, wet with perspiration as we came. Harry didn’t open his eyes until our breaths evened out. Then he softly laid me back down and kissed me passionately.

When he rose again, he headed for the bathroom. I laid in darkness, the moonlight through the blinds reflecting on the mirror as I waited for his return.

I thought about what I’d said. Perhaps it hadn’t truly been gibberish. I wished I could feel the way I felt in that moment for the rest of my life. And not just because of the sex. Yes, it was amazing and felt incredible. But the feeling was much deeper than that.

I finally knew. I was in love with him.

I noticed the glow of light from the bathroom and turned my head to see Harry leaning against the door frame, a toothbrush in his mouth. I giggled at the image which was both sexy and adorable. He wiggled his brows, then quickly turned to spit in the sink.

“My turn,” I said, sitting up.

After I cleaned up, I returned to see that Harry had turned down the bed and was lying on his side. I smiled as I crawled in next to him, reaching over to give him a kiss, my hair falling around his glowing face.

“Hey, what was that?” he pouted when I pulled away.

“What was what?”

“That kiss. That was not an ‘I just had the best night’ kiss. That was an ‘I’ll call you, we should do this again sometime’ kiss.”

I smiled wider and sighed, trying not to reveal what was really on my mind. “Sorry, sugar. Didn’t mean that at all.”

I kissed him, really kissed him then.

“Mmm,” he sounded. “Much better.”

“Good. However...we should do this again.”

He grinned, his hands getting tangled in my curls. “Yes. We definitely should. And we definitely will.”

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[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC intro - Noelle Bishop

Been a bit since I posted one of these, so here's this! Feel free to ask any questions about Noelle!

Basics

Cis girl she/her

At the start of the series, Noelle is twelve

Noelle has light brown hair that reaches her shoulderblades, mostly straight but has a slight wave to it. She usually puts it in a ponytail and even keeps extra hair ties on her wrist. She has fair skin, brown eyes, and due to being Alii (who have a wider variation in height), she's 6'9, which is still tall for an Alii her age, but not unheard of.

I don't have a sexuality set in stone for her

Noelle is a very talented and powerful telekinetic, picking up on it very quickly and precisely to a frightening degree.

Noelle is Alii, like I said, which is for all intents and purposes human, just a tall one with powers from another dimension. She did however grow up in the suburban Houston area.

Character/Personality

In a word, Noelle is logical. If something doesn't make sense, she dismisses it. If it does make sense, she embraces it. This is a fundamental truth, and it's very hard to change her mind. Especially if it has to do with her mother. She respects her mother tremendously, and will do anything she asks, believe everything she wants.

Noelle's main passion is cooking. She had to learn at a very young age because she lived in a single-parent household. And in doing so, she found out that she loved it. It's one of the few things she likes testing. One of the few things she finds joy in. She doesn't do anything too crazy, but she has a wide breadth of knowledge of what foods are perfect for a specific diet or preference or making something efficient and healthy.

Noelle doesn't have many interests at school. Sure, she likes math, but there's no need to take a culinary class (she knows it all), so for her extracurricular she selected art, mainly due to her mom telling her to not pick anything that would require after school rehearsals. Her height has caused her to be approached by coaches for basketball, but she could not care less about sports.

Other Notable Things

While Noelle doesn't wear the same shoes every day, she does have a favorite: green tennis shoes with white laces. She usually just wears whatever fits her, so she's not picky on the shirts and capris she wears.

Noelle's real name is Carissa. Noelle came from a misunderstanding that her name was Clarissa. (Her name has no L. No-elle.)

Noelle is an only child.

Noelle is closest to Lexi and Ash. While she and Rose are very different, she does hang out with her often. However, she feels like Gwen doesn't like her too much, even though she does.

Tag Games for More Noelle

OC in three

OC in fifteen

Picrew

Fun facts

Questionnaire One

Questionnaire Two

Questionnaire Three

Outfit

Origin

Bag

Filled-In Bingo

Deep Dive

Cuddleability

Interview

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[peonyblossom]

drunk prompts 9 for syd and ethan

Title: Taken Care Of Book: Open Heart (takes place during Book 2) Pairing(s): Ethan Ramsey x m!MC (Sydney Valentine) Other Characters: Elijah Greene, Jackie Varma Words: 1,436 Category: Fluff Rating: Teen+ AO3 link here Summary: When Ethan finds Sydney completely wasted at Donahue's, Ethan takes him home and takes care of him. A/N: Thanks for the request anon! A/N 2/EDIT: for @choicesjuly2023challenge and @moodmusicmonday "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston (how did I forget to submit my own fic to the event that I am hosting???)

Having been one of the first people in his group to arrive at the bar, it was no surprise that Sydney was currently the drunkest, especially because, let’s be honest, his tolerance was not nearly as high as some of his friends, namely Jackie. And Bryce. And Aurora. 

“Sydney! What song should I play next?” Elijah shouted from where he sat next to the jukebox. Most everyone else was on the dance floor and Sydney was the closest to the jukebox. 

“Hmm, how about… something 80s! Something we can dance to!” Not that Sydney really needed good dancing music when he was this drunk.

“Ooh, I have the perfect song!” Elijah quickly chose the new tune and as soon as it started playing, Sydney’s eyes lit up. It was exactly what he’d had in mind. 

Sydney looked around the dance floor for his friends, signaling the first one he saw, Jackie, to come join him. She quickly made her way to him on the dance floor and he spun her around in time with the music. Well, sort of in time with the music. 

“Okay, we can dance, but I’m a little too drunk for you to be spinning me around like that.” Jackie laughed. 

Sydney laughed along and said, “Fine, but that means you have to sing with me! Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat–” His singing was more off-beat than his dancing, but Jackie joined in anyway, her singing not quite as bad, but still missing the mark completely. Halfway through the song, Sydney decided to do a spin himself, since Jackie wouldn’t let him spin her, and immediately felt nauseated. “I’m gonna go sit down because I think I might be too drunk to dance,” Sydney shouted to Jackie, his words slurred. 

“Boo, you lightweight!” Jackie yelled after him as he exited the dance floor. 

Sydney sat at the nearest seat at the bar, watching Jackie and Elijah on the dance floor. He started absentmindedly spinning his chair back and forth, until he realized that that too was nauseating. Who puts spinny chairs in a bar anyway? Sydney thought. He heart the thud of a glass being put on the bar, but he hadn’t ordered anything so he knew it was for someone else. He watched on as Jackie tripped, but didn’t fall because she wasn’t as drunk as anyone else despite having the same amount to drink, if not more. Someone cleared their throat right next to Sydney, attracting his attention. “Ethan!” Sydney smiled.

“I brought you a water. Looks like you could use it.” Ethan gestured to the drink on the bar behind Sydney. Guess that thud of a glass was for him. 

“Aw, thank you! But I don’t need it, I’m good.” Sydney started humming along to the next song on the jukebox. He couldn’t remember the name of it but it was definitely Lady Gaga. 

“Sydney.” Sydney looked up at Ethan, who was now holding the glass out to him. “Drink the water.”

Sydney glared at him, which Ethan just found adorable rather than actually threatening, and forcefully took the glass from him. He took a drink and, yeah, okay, maybe it made him feel a little better. He quickly stood up from the barstool, losing his balance. Just as quickly, Ethan reached out to stabilize him. Sydney laughed and said, “I was going to ask you to dance, but I guess this was all I needed to do to get me in your arms.”

Ethan blushed and said, “Sydney, not here, okay?” 

“Not here what? Not here you can dance with me? It’d be a totally professional and platonic dance and I wouldn’t grind on you at all or anything.” Sydney laughed, knowing he was lying.

“Sydney, seriously, I know you’re drunk, but come on.” Despite his words, Ethan had yet to let go of his grip on Sydney. 

“Pleeeeeease, Ethan? I’ll make sure Elijah puts on the least sexiest least romantic song he can think of. Like, I wouldn’t be able to be sexy to it if I tried – and I will try.”

“At least quiet down, Syd. You are being way too loud right now,” Ethan said sternly, looking into Sydney’s eyes.

“You think I’m loud right now? Oh, the shit you’re in for if you take me to bed with you.” 

“What the fu— okay, we’re getting you straight home.” Ethan kept his grip on Sydney’s arm, just tight enough to be able to drag him out of the bar. 

Sydney followed along laughing. “I think you mean we’re getting me gay home. I don’t go straight anywhere!” 

“That’s not—” Ethan sighed. “Sure, honey, the point is we’re getting you home.” Ethan led Sydney to his car and helped him into the passenger’s seat. 

After a little bit of driving in silence Sydney turned to Ethan and asked, “Are you mad at me?” 

“What? No! I’m not mad at you.”

Sydney brought his knees up to his chest and said, “Oh. You just seemed kinda mad. Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Yes, baby, I’m sure. I was… a little frustrated you weren’t listening to me, but only because I had your best interests in mind.” 

Sydney furrowed his brow and responded, “How would you know what my best interests are? Wouldn’t I know that better than anyone else?”

Ethan sighed and said, “Not when you’re drunk.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. I’m not that drunk though. Only a little. So I think I’d still know.” Ethan parked the car outside Sydney’s apartment. “Why did we stop?”

“Because we’re at your apartment. Wait there, I’ll help you.” Ethan turned off the car and quickly got out, walking around to the passenger’s side. Thankfully, Sydney was still processing what Ethan had said by the time he’d made it there and thus hadn’t tried to get out of the car on his own. Ethan opened the door and took Sydney’s arm, leading him up the stairs and into the apartment. 

Sydney yawned as they entered the door and said, “I’m tired. Why am I so tired? I feel like I just had so much energy and now I’m so tired. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Alcohol does that. Come on.” Ethan led Sydney back to his room. Ethan sat Sydney on the bed and pulled some pajamas out of his closet for him. 

Sydney flopped, face-first, on the bed. “I don’t want to change, I just want to go to sleep.” 

“Syd, you will be much happier in the morning if you wake up in some comfy pajamas, I promise,” Ethan said gently.

“I’ll be much happier in the morning if I wake up with you,” Sydney responded, his voice muffled, but Ethan still understood every word clearly.

“Syd…” Ethan kneeled next to the bed, rubbing Sydney’s back. 

Sydney turned his head so he was facing Ethan. “Please?”

“What if your roommates see me?” Ethan asks nervously.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Sydney responded matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but that was only two of them.” 

“I hate to break it to you babe, but if two of them know, they all know. Especially when one of the two was Elijah.”

Ethan smiled slightly. Although he was a handful, drunk Sydney was rather endearing. “I suppose I should’ve thought of that, huh?”

“Yeeeaaah, you are a super-mega-smart doctor and all that.”

Ethan laughed and stood up. “I’ll stay, but that means you have to put on your pajamas, okay?” 

Sydney looked up at Ethan and said, “Can you help me? I might be too drunk to do it right.”

Ethan helped Sydney off the bed saying, “I know you think you’re lying, but that might actually be true.” Ethan lifted Sydney’s shirt above his head before he started unbuttoning his pants. 

“You know, last time you were taking off my pants, we were having sex. But I think I’m too tired for sex tonight. Is that okay?”

“That is absolutely fine, my love.” As if that had even been on Ethan’s mind. 

“Okay, good.”

Ethan finished helping Sydney before sitting him back down on the bed and putting on some of Sydney’s pajamas himself. He joined Sydney on the bed, pulling back the covers for both of them. They cuddled together, Sydney laying his head against Ethan’s chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Sydney mumbled, already half asleep.

“I don’t need a thank you for that. But you’re welcome.” Ethan pressed a kiss to Sydney’s forehead before drifting off to sleep as well.

[chaotictarlos]

Secret

Rating: General | Warnings/Tags: Fluff

Author's Note: I really like this one. This is really fun and has definitely been helping me to write more! This one turned out to be longer than I meant it to be! I hope you enjoy it!

For @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day prompt secret

-----------------------------------------

TK gets the call while Carlos is away in Houston for a police convention testing out new high-tech gadgets they can use in the field.

It's a call he wishes Carlos could have been by his side when he gets it. A fleeting moment that he had wanted to share with Carlos but instead he misses out on it.

They never thought they would get a call so soon, though.

TK's a bundle of nerves he sets on the secret, not letting anything away when he talks on the phone with Carlos. 

Over the next few days, he plans out just how he’s going to tell Carlos. He buys balloons, a few stuffed animals, and various other things that he knows will give away the secret before TK even says it. He doesn’t care, though, he wants Carlos to know as soon as he walks through the door.

On the day that Carlos is due home, TK gets up earlier than he needs to in order to get things ready. He places the stuffed animals, baby book, and other various baby-themed items into a basket that he bought and ties the balloons to the handles. Once everything is perfect TK sets the basket on the counter, along with a bottle of sparkling cider and after he makes sure it can be viewed perfectly from the door, he sets out to pick Carlos up from the airport.

-

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks him as they drive back to the loft.

TK glances over at him as he makes a turn, “Yeah! I’m great. I’m happy that you’re home. Why?”

“You seem nervous, you keep gripping the steering wheel for dear life,” Carlos points out.

TK smiles at him, reaching over to place a hand on his thigh briefly, squeezing, “I’m fine. I’m just really glad that you’re home.”

Carlos hums, but doesn’t seem to believe him. That’s okay, though, because TK knows when he sees the surprise at home he’ll understand.

He parks their car in their parking spot not long after that, and can barely contain the nerves and excitement that he’s feeling.

TK grabs Carlos’ bags and they make their way up to their loft. He’s practically vibrating with excitement as Carlos unlocks their door and pulls it open. TK steps in after Carlos, places his bags down just inside the door and waits.

“TK?” Carlos asks after he spots the basket.

TK smiles, “Yeah?”

“What is that?”

“It’s a welcome home gift,” TK doesn’t even try to hide the smile that overtakes his face.

“Did we… Is this?” Carlos wipes around, tears shining in his eyes.

“We got the call a few days ago when you were away,’’ TK explains. “They picked us. We’re going to be parents.”

“Baby!” Carlos gasps, the tears slipping free and TK rushes into his arms, hugging him tightly. 

“It still doesn’t feel real,” TK says, hiding his face in Carlos’ shoulder.

“I don’t think it will until we hold them in our arms.”

They stand there for a while, holding each other and talking about how excited they are to become parents. TK is nervous as hell, having never thought he would get this chance, but he’s excited to go about this journey with Carlos.

-----------------------------------------

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes

[orrested]

LOADING FILE . . .

ID #960213:   JAMIE DUNWOODY. EVAN RODERICK. —  GENDER: CIS MAN.    PRONOUNS: HE/HIM.    AGE: TWENTY-SEVEN.  YEAR: SOPHOMORE.    STUDYING: ARCHITECTURAL ENGINEERING.     CITY OF ORIGIN:  KELSO, SCOTLAND.

NOW PLAYING… I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY BY WHITNEY HOUSTON.  A FADED POSTER OF YOUR PERFECT BODY PINNED TO SOMEONE’S WALL, TOUSLED BROWN HAIR AND A SMILE THAT RIVALS THE SUN, COMING HOME TO WORN FLOORBOARDS AND LEARNING TO BREATHE AGAIN, BRAND NEW CLEATS TO BE JOYOUSLY BROKEN IN, THE RELIEF OF NOBODY KNOWING YOUR NAME – A BLANK SLATE.

IF THE WALLS COULD TALK, THEY’D TELL YOU HE USED TO BE A TEEN HEARTTHROB. 

CONTINUE… ?

HIMBO RUGBY FULLBACK! DEFINITELY NOT THAT ACTOR GUY!

full name james caine dunwoody alias caine kelly nicknames jamie, jim age twenty-seven date of birth february 13, 1996 hometown kelso, scotland nationality american + scottish gender identity cis man pronouns he/him sexual orientation bisexual (somewhat closeted)

height 5’11” eye color blue hair color light brown tattoos none scars none

parents annabel dunwoody (barista), gabriel kelly (film exec, retired actor) siblings chloe kelly (younger half sister) roommate tbd significant other none teams rugby

your parents meet in glasgow: your father filming, your mother reaching for a dream bigger than a small life in a small town. this isn’t love. he leaves her with a baby, and she goes back to that small town. this is love: your ma scooping you up and putting you on the counter to help her cook, your grandpa playing catch for hours in the backyard, something tiny and tight knit and warm. your father comes back when you are old enough to be interesting. when you are old enough to be marketable. jamie dunwoody is whisked off to los angeles before anyone can  do a damn thing to stop it, and caine kelly is born.

you are a charming child and you grow into a pretty teen. your father knows how to market and you learn to be marketable. to flatten that distinctive accent into a blonde all-american boy next door. bit pieces, kid shit, until you are old enough to be every high school girl’s first fantasy. movies, magazines, modeling, a song or two, rumors about you and a member of some girl group you’ve never met before in your life. hair dye, dieting, invasive questions you learn to answer with easy laughter. you’re hot shit. you’re hollywood’s boyfriend.

you grow up. this in itself isn’t the problem: your career keeps booming, parts keep coming in. you are the problem. you don’t like, so much, to be looked at, and you are not so easy to control, not as desperate for your father’s love. you miss your ma, and sitting on the counter, and racing through backyards. after a downward spiral at twenty-one you walk out of a photoshoot and you never look back.

it takes years to learn how to be a person. you find yourself in little moments: making cranachan, your first proper go at rugby, planting your ma’s favorite flowers and watching her smile. to be jamie again, the dunwoody lad, and absolutely nothing else. you decide, eventually, that university would do you some good: new location, new opportunities, new education. you’ve settled in roots and you’d like now to grow. you have the smarts and the money for daskalos, and, well – not the commonest resume. with your new old name and sharp accent and glasses and lack of bottle blonde, with your utter disappearance from pop culture and entirely new demeanor, you’ve no interest in telling anyone you were ever anything but jamie, their fullback, friendly face and warm teasing and open shoulder to lean on.

love is a cautious desire, to be handled with care. you’re pretty still, and you’ve learned to be alright with admiring eyes. the need for something deeper – the romanticism you can’t quite shake – sits quietly in your chest, in need of coaxing. you’d like to love somebody. you think you might be good at it, if you can trust you’ll be wanted as more than another fuck.

MARILYN: DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME BECOME HER?

[mindcrowned]

ryan. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

BASIC INFO

full name — Ryan Estrada(-Takashi) age — forty-four (january 19th) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual former occupation — teacher super power — power mimicry (lowkey rogue-like..ish) hero name — hoshii  weapon — dual long scimitars katanas clothing style/ uniform — casual, fitting, nerdy / dark modern-y

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Pedro Pascal hair — brown / eyes — brown height — five foot & eleven inches build — kinda like a T, broad shoulders, muscled torso, slutty waist (it be thin ok), tho he has decently thick thighs, too but not insanely so scars — a few, but the only prominent ones are long strides across the backs of his thighs tattoos — he has a portrait of his (deceased) daughter & husband on his chest, right above his heart piercings — nipple piercings oops special characteristics — he’s broken and angry at the world, which translates into silence & bitterness

PERSONALITY

alignment — true chaotic neutral positive traits — protective, loyal, strong-willed, caring negative traits — bitter, short-tempered, stubborn hobbies — kenjutsu, cooking, avoiding people, spreading bitterness

MEDICAL INFO

mental — ptsd (watched his husband and child die), negative attitude physical — when he was younger, he got his shoulder dislocated and one of his older sisters thought she could pop it back in. she didn't and broke his shoulder. he can't life his right arm as high as the left one still, but only few know phobias — claustrophobia, haphephobia eyesight — wears glasses / contacts dominant hand — left hand drug use — nop alcohol use — occasionally diet — lived as a vegetarian because of his husband, but when he died.. he went back to a normal semi-healthy diet

SEXUAL

kinks — tba anti-kinks — tba sexual preference — bottom switch

BACKGROUND

birthplace — houston, TX (born) parents — (biological parents unknown) / Maria Estrada-Takashi (step-mother) & Asahi Estrada-Takashi (step-father)  siblings — 2 older sisters who were also adopted by the Estradas; Amelie & Sorayja Estrada-Takashi education — education degree (to work as a teacher) notable skills — he grew up with a lot of japanese traditions/culture including tea ceremonies, calligraphy and the art of kenjutsu

BIO

(child abuse mention, murder mention, child death mention)

on a cold january morning in a small town not too far from houston, a young policeman named ryan mccormick found a little bundle of linen on the steps on his way to work. due to being a heavy smoker, the young deputy-in-training tended to enter the station through the back door & therefore the little boy wrapped abandoned the night prior was saved from spending more hours in the cold. thankfully. mccormick took the newborn to the hospital as swiftly as the old police car would allow, but thankfully houston had been blessed with somewhat decent temperatures, so the newborn would be okay. they said. 

that was the first & last time ryan would ever see his savior, but not the last time he’d be reminded of his existence. the nice employees from the foster care office contacted by social services picked him up after a weekend at the hospital and he was named after his savior. little king. he was thought to take over the world in a quick stride, because as a newborn babe his little smile enchanted everybody who was blessed enough to be present for it. 

the first family that contacted adoption services to meet little ryan would take him home with them, but only for a few months. he was brought back with the explanation that something had to be wrong with the child, because he never cried, he never screamed, he never even cooed. clearly, a well-behaved little boy couldn’t be normal, they thought. as a six month old little boy already rejected by one stats-wise perfect couple, his chances for an early adoption decreased rapidly with every passing day, especially because most couples were looking for younger children. babies. ryan, unfortunately, was running out of time only a few months after he was born. 

when he passed the twelve-month mark, he was taken over by another foster care office - one that handled children, not newborns. his photo was sent to every couple looking to take care of a child, though unfortunately for him, the only interest was shown by an old couple eager to temporarily give foster care children a loving home. they weren’t looking for long-term responsibilities. a few months outside the sterile rooms of the facility would do him well, they thought. 

elise & archibald johnson could be described as the most stereotypical sixty-plus year old farm-owner couple america had to offer. flags decorated not only the front of the house, but the back, too & little ryry would spend the next eight months with them. longer than anticipated by pretty much everybody & maybe they would’ve actually kept him longer, but archibald’s health began to deteriorate suddenly, so they could no longer look after the little boy. 

cue, another few months with only sparse human interaction & yet, with a roof over his head & food a regular occurrence, some would say ryan was lucky. he was three years old when the next family decided to give him a chance. lucy & thomas jackson. houston simply has too many children in the social service system to ensure a stable & proper development for each & every single one, so ryan .. wasn’t quite as vocal as he should be, but the jacksons were patient & gentle - if firm in their approach with him, so the little boy soon developed an almost chatty attitude. 

until this day, nobody knows why the jacksons returned a four-and-a-half year old toddler, but they did. by then, ryan had reached that age of he’s not longer utterly adorable & actual work, which was the reason he spent another year on the waiting list & at this point in time.. ryan began to understand what happened around him & of course one would wonder why other kids came & went, but not you. although that took another year to develop. almost six years old, ryan was once again sent to live with a family with three other foster kids to learn social etiquette. 

not a good year. 

ryan was returned with a broken arm, scars covering the backs of his thighs & a black eye. clumsy child. the next couple was somewhat different, because they’d wanted to adopt a child for a long time, but they didn’t qualify before & they didn’t have the funds for a newborn, so a six year old was the best they could do. it was fine with them. in their care, ryan discovered he wasn’t normal. except for being stronger than a child should be, the couple found… well, something else was wrong with the little boy in their care. sometimes when he touched them, not only would he scream & flee, but sometimes they’d feel their energy … drain rapidly. ryan was eight years old when these mishaps messed with the peace in the johnson household. it wasn’t until he was nine that he found the words to speak about what he was experiencing. thankfully, he had yet to meet another superhuman, because touching them would surely have sent the confused little boy into a frenzy unlike anything the johnsons ever experienced. a few months later, ryan was … once again, in his old room at foster care. 

how he knew? 

he felt it. the issue that caused his return to the facility this time was … not dealt with. he was left alone to fend for himself in a world that knew no mercy for a confused little boy’s struggles. so, besides knowing nobody wanted him, he also had powers to deal with. 

school in the foster care system.. was okay. ryan knew most of the kids in class with him, so there was that. he might’ve made friends even, but due to images flooding his mind whenever one of the other boys jumped him to play, he ..retreated. he’d sit in the front of the class knowing only few would dare, he spent breaks in his room & generally stayed away from other kids. of course that was noticed, but he wasn’t hurting anybody, so they left him. once ryan learned to read.. he had only very few reasons to leave his room, ever. 

he was eleven when the next foster family took him in. it didn’t go well. back in the residential foster care - a group home for school kids really. a new room, which ryan didn’t like at all. it was shared with three other boys. none of them respected his urge to keep distance between him & them. the worst two years of his life yet. he’d have taken the abusive rednecks from when he was four over this. he was the youngest in the room, definitely the nerdiest - as they called him & when he was prescribed glasses? life, as he knew it, was over for him. the bullying was .. tolerated by the caretakers in the hopes of turning the quiet little boy into a normal, more social child. safe to say it did the opposite. 

ryan found safe places at the facility where he could spend as much of his days as possible for the next few years. his powers grew, but not in a good way. he felt himself change whenever the boys grabbed him or pushed him down to play stampede on his back. their thoughts echoing in his own mind, loud & clear like they were telling him of all the cruel things they yearned to unleash upon him, the pictures of …memories that definitely weren’t his still flooding his mind uncontrollably when they did, too. he had no way to control it, no way to escape the daily onslaught. 

seriously, worst years of his life.

a few weeks before his fourteen’s birthday, he’d meet the owners of his … well, semi-forever home. he was so grateful to get out of that group home, he cried the entire four hour drive to his new home. well, not quite. he passed out halfway through. the house he woke up was the biggest & most beautiful one he’d ever seen. he had his own room. his own room. he knew this was what people called paradise without ever having seen anyplace else. 

this time, though - everything was different. maria & asahi estrada-takashi sat him down & spoke with him, thinking that surely - he was old enough to be treated like an equal, at least ..closely to it. they explained that - so long as he wanted to, this would be his home. they heard of his struggles & unbeknownst to him, had been to visit at the facility where they witnessed enough to know they had to get him out. he wasn’t the only foster child at the estrada-takashi household. he shared it with two older girls who’d soon be his sisters - officially. a year after taking him in, the estrada-takashi’s officially adopted him. 

ryan finally found a sense of normalcy. he expected them to send him away once they found out about his powers, but they didn’t. instead, they brought him his very first pair of gloves. he wore long sleeves most of the time anyway, so that pretty much made him as immune to accidentally getting touched as possible, but - even though his sisters teased him mercilessly, they respected him enough to not force anything on him. to get the young teen out of his room & books more, he was sent for hobbies that allowed distancing as much as possible. ryan was sent to learn how to ride & responsibility was taught by him taking care of the horse on three days of the week, too. besides that, he was trained in the art of kenjutsu to strengthen his body & calligraphy to exercise his mind while teaching him patience & that his urge to chase perfection in everything he did wasn’t a bad thing. 

turned out he had an unexpected talent with the katana & actually found joy in practicing with it. it was all for fun. ever since he had the stability at home & a loving family to back him, he was doing much better & oftentimes left his room to socialize. after an incident at school, they gave him a somewhat exceptional permission to wear his gloves at all times, even during pe. sure, that didn’t exactly help his image in school, but he’d never been very popular. he’d always been told he wasn’t pretty & even his sisters sometimes teased him about his looks - they didn’t know that’d been a recurring happenstance & he .. never told them, so ryan went to school with only one goal in mind. 

survive. 

he had exceptional grades & graduated with flying colors, but due to his rather questionable upbringing & a lack of interesting bullet points on his resume, community college was as high as he’d go. which was where he met the potential love of his life. he fell fast & unbelievably hard. lucky for him, it only took a few weeks of hopeless pining for his classmate for him to be noticed. one would think with how quickly their love bloomed, that it would die out in spectacular colors not long after. but it didn’t.

victor lavine was his soulmate, it seemed. even when ryan explained the gloves & his strange powers, their love didn’t diminish - if anything, it burned brighter despite the obstacles ahead. intimacy. touch still being an issue for ryan, they took things slow. very slow. up until the point that there was nothing left to see when ryan & victor’s skin touched. there was one grand rule, though. an ultimatum victor left ryan to think over. 

me or your powers. 

admittedly, it wasn’t as severe an ultimatum as it sounded, there was no cure for superpowers, but victor - as one of the many people afraid of superhumans, would give true love a chance only if ryan abandoned his powers & the institute. he’d been in contact with them for a few months before he met victor & had been debating giving up his studied to live in a place that was more suited to the likes of him, where he’d learn to control his powers. before he met victor… that sounded pretty good. after, though? not good. the institute had been quite ..convincing. the unwanted child. with a story like his, ryan would surely draw attention to himself & that was what they wanted. attention, positive media, likes. desperate to be seen, to be loved, to be accepted, ryan chose love. 

& he wouldn’t regret it for a long time. he became a teacher, as did victor. they managed to get into the same school afterwards. again fueling ryan’s conviction about them being soulmates. life was good. they moved into their own place soon a lot of states over, not the biggest house, but with decent income on both sides, they lived a comfortable life. moving to the big city had a lot of perks, but also ..not. more people meant that occasionally, ryan would run into other people like him, which … he felt before he saw them & it was during a car crash that he discovered he could ..absorb other superhuman’s powers. in a way. he had no idea how it worked at the time, but when a woman pulled him out of the wreck bare-handed .. by his neck, he felt his body freeze against his will & in her memories he could see why. 

she was like him, but not quite. he didn’t tell victor about her when he got home that night. instead he experimented with his powers every now & then with the help of their dog. well, victor’s dog. they married a few years later & a few years after that, they saved a child from foster care. violet. 

she was three years old at the time & would change their lives forever. she brought a light into their home that neither knew they were missing before. they were the perfect little family & they continued to be for a handful of years. life was sweet & fulfilling & for the longest time ryan thought he was going to grow old with victor by his side, violet would be living her own life one day, but she’d always come visit them, because she loved her fathers & knew what it was like not to have any. 

but life as he saw in their future wasn’t meant to come true. not in this life anyway. ryan had been stuck late at school for a teacher-parent evening with a group of very concerned & incredibly chatty parents, so when he came home around eleven pm, he found the door ajar. inside… the sight that awaited him.. would haunt him until the end of his days, surely. 

he found his home in shambles, blood spatters scattered, but most prominent was a drawn-out puddle leading into the kitchen, which was where he found his husband in a puddle of his own blood. he’d been beaten & stabbed repeatedly while trying to protect their daughter. ryan found whiskers - their dog, dead in the yard afterwards & violet’s lifeless body was discarded in the living room. victor had tried dragging himself towards her, but ended up stranded in the kitchen. 

ryan… had been practicing. very low-key, but he still had a telepath’s powers on quick-dial. he’d been curious to find differences between them, but he never thought that’d be what helped him find out who broke into their home. victor fought. oh, he fought. ryan couldn’t tell if it had been the fear or the dying that caused for an almost violent reaction to his very clumsy tries at getting faces out of his husband’s head. 

the ambulance was too late & the cops? they found nothing worth their time. meanwhile ryan… had three faces. as a widower with nothing left to lose, ryan set out to find them, find out why. find justice vengeance. he found them, eventually & he dealt with them...accordingly. he also found out the truth. 

it was coincidence. 

it wasn’t a planned assassination, it wasn’t someone he upset, it wasn’t someone who might’ve had it out for him. it wasn’t. these guys had seen their pretty little house, their cars & the suits they wore to work & thought they could make a fortune. with victor’s car at the repair shop & ryan’s at the school, they thought their time had come, only to be surprised by a dog & two very much alive humans at home. it was a coincidence that cost ryan everything. 

now, he could’ve let that be the spark needed to pull him down the rabbit hole of villainy, could’ve let that be the catalyst to unleash his wrath upon everybody potentially crossing paths with him. but he didn’t. instead, he reconnected with the institute. they had double the story now, because the gruesome murder of a loving husband & daughter had made it to the eight pm news across social media. 

broken-hearted & hardened by the sheer violence of life, ryan … returned to the institute - partially in the hopes of getting a second chance, but most of all? he wanted to find purpose again. because without his family .. life felt empty. he was but a shadow of his past self, the teacher cracking the worst dad jokes at the kids in class for a few giggles & to lighten the mood had lost the light in his heart. he’s not the stereotypical hero anymore; he’s short-tempered, eager to punish criminals solve crime, only barely semi-social these days & keeps the world at an arm’s length (including his teammates), he’s quiet & definitely not going to be a shining beacon of attention on social media on his own accord, but they knew his story would sell well regardless & paint Paragon Incorporation in a bright-as-fuck light.

the good samaritan & the mourning husband+father. a love story written in the stars, surely the world would agree?

[jeanm3]

Run To You

Notes: I was listening to Run To You by Whitney Houston and I thought how fitting it is for a pinning and sad Draco. It's perfect. So here a flow of thoughts. It's not a real fic, I hope you still enjoy it. WARNINGS: pinning and sad Draco hours

I know that when you look at me There's so much that you just don't see

Draco has so many colours and aspects of his personality that he doesn't show. Underneath he is just a scared boy, who regrets all the mistakes he had made and now he has to face a new world that doesn't welcome him with open arms.

But if you would only take the time I know in my heart you'd find A girl who's scared sometimes Who isn't always strong Can't you see the hurt in me? I feel so all alone

He's loleny. Except for his mother, Pansy and Blaise, no one wants to have anything to do with him. He can't find new friends, somebody who'd love him seems an impossible task.

I wanna run to you (oooh) I wanna run to you (oooh) Won't you hold me in your arms And keep me safe from harm I want to run to you (oooh) But if I come to you (oooh) Tell me, will you stay or will you run away

His heart aches with longing, wishing he could just run to somebody and be held and told that everything would be alright. Potter saved him once, maybe it could happen again. And if nights bring wishful dreams of strong arms and a warm solid body hugging him, mornings shine on the bitter truth.

Each day, each day I play the role Of someone always in control But at night I come home and turn the key There's nobody there, no one cares for me

Every day he puts on his cold and unbothered facade, styling his hair perfectly and dressing in elegant clothes to hide the mess inside him. He goes to work, an underpaid gig at the Ministry where no one of his colleagues really talks to him. He feels alone at work and so does he at home, an empty and quite flat. No one to greet him, to say goodnight to.

What's the sense of trying hard to find your dreams Without someone to share it with Tell me what does it mean?

He wonders why e's trying so hard. For who? Himself? Not really. Most days he doesn't even have the force to get out of bed. He sees all these people making plans for the future and it always involves a lover. Maybe he will never find someone like that, but he still needs to think about his mother, so there's that. It must be enough, even if his heart disagrees.

I need you here I need you here to wipe away my tears To kiss away my fears, no If you only knew how much

I wanna run to you (oooh) I wanna run to you (oooh) Won't you hold me in your arms And keep me safe from harm I want to run to you (oooh) But if I come to you (oooh) Tell me, will you stay or will you run away

Passing another night alone, hugging a pillow to his chest, silent tears fall from his eyes. How would it feel to have someone wipe them away for him? He pictures big kind hands and green eyes staring back at him. He still sees Potter a the Ministry, always with one or two of his friends. They don't knowledge each other presence. It's almost like he doesn't exist anymore in the eyes of the man. Which hurts more than being hated.

One morning he is in the elevator, going to work like every other day, alone because people tend to avoid him if possible, even if it means to arrive late at work. He's looking down at his shoes when the elevator stops and someone gets on.

"Hello, Malfoy." Nobody ever greets him, so when his eyes meet green fields all the air in his lungs gets punched out.

"Hello." He manages to say, voice stable enough to not vocalize the turmoil inside him. He can taste his heart in his throat.

They don't share another word, riding the elevator in silence. When Potter comes to his stop he gets off. But not before looking at him again. "See you around, Malfoy." He doesn't have the time or the force to say anything back, as the doors close in front of his face.

If he fantasizes about running into Potter's arms it's only between him and his delusional mad heart.

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

The Dove to the Vampire: Chapter 1

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x Stacy McCain (oc).

Warning: panic attack, Swearing, Mates, Dysfunctionality.

Words count: 3255.

Summary: Rosalie believes through the centuries her forever was Emmett only to finds out Forks has other plans. Throughout her Vampire life she had no doubt about it. Stacy has lived her Reservation High School experience to the fullest knowing that despite having beta blood running through her very veins – there is no wolf in her very future. Starting new year in forks high of all places thanks to her sister.

A/N: Do note, I am sorry for taking so long but my first language isn’t English, so I had to make sure everything made perfect sense or something similar to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day, Stacy wakes up to the reality no sister in the room parallel to her anymore not her obnoxious singing to whatever plays in her Spotify playlist. Houston loved to recommend songs as soon as Stacy stepped out of her room saying how good they were and such it was our little play every single Monday. She would usually plead that would be the day you would see reason and see her songs taste was as she loved to say, “Impeccable”. Stacy softly whispers to herself.

Stacy clenches her hands on her sheets a breath she takes deeply wishing to cry her pain away from every corner in her body. Her body laid rigid letting the minutes go by the clock hoping in some deep corner in her brain that her mother is no longer at home.

She wouldn’t be that unlucky right? Not twice in a row? Stacy legs move over the bed as slow as she could possibly do; what she didn’t have in luck she had in professional sneaks if that’s even a word.

Stacy puts her palm down on the bed to move herself forward ever so slightly to the edge of the bed and steadily taking a breath only when extremely necessary.

Every time of every day in the past 4 years has Stacy train herself little by little. Maybe it’s wishful thinking that she could train herself to trick the wolves outside her home.

“I still believe this is a mistake.”

Stacy abruptly stops her feet from touching the cold floor this Saturday morning setting her presence known to her mother. The voice is recognizable as that Stacy blue eyes shift to the door. Her handle turns softly not to disturb her sleep a soft sigh escapes Lucy, “Don’t mom me, Houston. You want Stacy to go to Forks High? I have no jurisdiction there.” Lucy raises her voice takes a deep breath her heels tick on the hard wood floors. Stacy takes a deep breath a thought in her brain repeats so vividly she believes she spoke it.

‘Time it right’.

‘Time it right’.

‘Time it right’.

Stacy holds her breath once more her eyes shift from her reflection in her full body mirror by the door and the door itself. The only thing stopping her mom is the thought she is sleeping. Lucy lowers her tone after Houston seem to stop talking in the other end.

 “You don’t see the problem here, do you? Stacy hates the Cullens. Forks High School has more Vampires than Humans at this point; you want to send Stacy over there? Human Stacy?”. Stacy rolls her eyes at her own mother for ignoring the fact she is a witch. Lucy laughs at something that Stacy could care less.

“A witch? Houston don’t feed Stacy dreams. She has no wolf let alone inheritance of your father”. Lucy spits vile toxic like the mention of my father offends her and I having any connection to him near her is toxic.

Stacy holds down the lump forming in her throat to revolt let her sharp words wound Lucy so deeply no amount of healing could fix her up.

“I am her mother, I am sure I would have notice if my daughter showed signs of being a witch, Houston”. Lucy stops midway more steps she takes. A sigh escapes her lips, “I have you know! I have Stacy watch 24/7 to keep her safe”.

Stacy has been dealing those fateful 4 years ago, she thought that would be the worst she had encounter, her mom unjustifiably punishing her own daughter for no reason.

The strings of her heart shatter every time no matter what no matter when no matter who says it, she just have to paint a perfect smile on her lips and play that everything is perfect. Hell. No, hell doesn’t compare to the realization that her family is no more. Her family is broken beyond believe and there is nothing she can do to stop that.

Over time, the necessity to breath disappears, tears don’t feel like tears anymore, there is nothing that could even come close to hearing her mom proudly deny Stacy origins.

Nothing compares to a 14th year old girl finding out that one of the strongest werewolf blood runs through her veins despite your wishes; you aren’t granted that gift given to all your previous predecessors that came before you. Something that everyone around you said you’ll surely get so much you believed them even though you showed no signs of such gift.

Once I reach the reservation, their smiles aren’t a comfortable blanket. They are welcoming, but I have no idea if it’s because of my past or fear of my mother’s wrath.

Their lips smile weakly like shattering glass at every point; however, their eyes falter around like searching for an escape goat. It’s always the same. Forks makes it a little better over there I don’t exist to anyone whatsoever. I am a ghost blending in the shadows of every corner, a renegade with a mission to cease to exist.

Another raspy breath this time not being as quiet as before her heart rings in her ears beating even more faster than before like air felt as a distance cousin not able to reach her lungs. Thoughts nonexistent.

Stacy tries to call for help, but no words escape her lips. Stacy eyes wander around to her full-length mirror then her cabinets, her hands shake not sure when they started to shake, Stacy glance down placing her other hand to hold onto it to make it stop. It couldn’t happen right now when you were trying to be as quiet as possible.

“This is not what’s best for her!”, Lucy keeps screaming to the phone as her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Stacy takes a weak breath trying her hardest to align herself pick up the pieces before her mom finds out she is awake.

It was futile.

Stacy takes deep breath after another breath louder than her previous attempt her lungs call her to give them at least any type of oxygen. She tries once more a set of coughs welcome her attempt. A knock on her door Stacy glances towards it. Stacy feels sweat drips from her forehead.

“Stacy? Are you okay?”. Lucy knocks again turning the handle to see if it’s open. Stacy tries to stand up only to crashed face first to the floor. Stacy hears in the background as Lucy’s feet contact the door, bringing the door down with enough force.

Stacy tries to breath for a new set of coughs to come forth that’s when Stacy finds herself getting picked up in warmth hands that feel like something she hasn’t had in a long time. Home. Blue eyes crash with her mother’s staring down at Stacy as she is picked up bridal style wasting no time to rush out of the room.

                                                               -x-

Stacy opens her mouth to say at least anything as Lucy feet reach the outside every werewolf around the house rushes to get in the cars; however, Lucy runs in the opposite direction of the town reaching her hand to move Stacy closer to her body to give her enough warmth trying to help.

“It’s okay Stacy. I know somebody”. Lucy whispers into Stacy ears as she rushes at a speed Stacy sees colors instead of houses or cars. Lucy stops frantically searching a breath she takes her ears pick onto her target, “Edward. Don’t think I didn’t saw you”. Carlisle softly speaks a chuckle between words.

Lucy moves forwards finding herself on the second floor of the Cullens household. Every Vampire and Werewolf around turned to their intruder in completely shock. Her brown eyes lock with golden eyes as she opens her hands holding a shaking and sweating Stacy, “My daughter is having a panic attack… please. I didn’t know who else to turn too”.  

“How the fuck did you made it up here?”, A black hair and brown eyes boy stood up as if offended he didn’t realized Lucy enter the room. A smirk paints in her lips dying soon after at Stacy state. Carlisle speeds to Lucy picking Stacy from her arms, “Alice helped me. Esme get everyone else out”.

A pixie like woman speeds out and back into the room while a blonde one stood up her golden eyes stare at Stacy intently like the air escape her lungs the minute we got in here. Lucy raised an eyebrow at her then glances back at Stacy.

“I am not leaving her alone,” Lucy follows Carlisle pushing hair from her face. Stacy continues to shake uncontrollably. Her eyes drift around the room Lucy hopes is to not register where she is, Stacy would kill Lucy, Lucy knows Stacy dislike of the Cullens.

Stacy eyes land on Carlisle her heart rings on his ears he gives her a soft smile.

“My name is Carlisle. Everything is okay; Stacy nod your head if you can understand me”. Stacy nods her head twice.

Alice speed to Rosalie extending her hand up, “Emmett. Don’t”.

“That’s good. You are doing a wonderful job”, Carlisle smiles placing Stacy on the kitchen counter only letting her go when he was sure she was seating, “We are going to play a game”.

Lucy glances back at the blonde woman with a name. Rosalie gets her hands out of another vampire whose hands were guiding her out the room. Rosalie walks back into the room slowly her golden eyes staring at Stacy. She walks inching closer but stops a breath she takes in. Lucy glances back to Stacy eyes locking with this vampire.

“Lucy,” Carlisle checks places a hand on Stacy chest her heart has normalize.

“An Angel”. Stacy calls out.

“A Dove”. Rosalie calls back a smile forms on her lips.

Carlisle turns his head around extending one hand up to stop Rosalie. He calls out to her, but all Rosalie could see is Stacy. Lucy looks between her daughter and Rosalie eyes lock like the world around them disappear. A growl escapes her lips as realization hit her mind like a truck hitting her hard. Carlisle stares at Lucy ready to kill Rosalie then back at Stacy eyes entangle with Rosalie’s.

“Rosalie. Don’t attack,” Carlisle tries to stop an incident for forming. Lucy takes a step forward.

“I will never hurt her,” Rosalie blurts clear as water from her porcelain lips a smile plaster on her lips keeping her eyes interlock with Stacy. Rosalie speed past Carlisle; Lucy launches forward to rip the Vampire away from her daughter.

Carlisle brought Lucy into an embrace stopping her from moving forward. Both move around to Rosalie moving two fingers forward using them close enough to seem walk on Stacy palms, “It’s supposed to distract you, is it working?”. Rosalie inches closer to Stacy.

“Well…”. Stacy whispers gulping saliva keeping her eyes on Rosalie golden eyes a blush covering her cheeks.

“What was I supposed to forget?”. Stacy asks gulping once more a breath she takes pushing some hair off her face.

“It looks like nothing.” Rosalie whispers inching forward to Stacy. A growl in the background from Lucy not liking this outcome one bit.

“Take your hands away from my daughter!!”, Lucy growls screaming at the top of her lungs, Carlisle holds his arms around her form. His eyes move back to Rosalie playing with Stacy who shrinks at Lucy’s words.

Rosalie stops the smile on her lips died instantly catching how Stacy shrank in size. Stacy’s blue eyes drift from Rosalie’s golden ones to her mother; Stacy looks back at Rosalie in a bit of concern whispers, “It’s okay. I have dealt with worst”.

“No”. Stacy looks back up at Lucy like something inside her just click for the first time in 4 years. She feels slightly brighter like the sun finally broke through the dark clouds in her life allowing her to breath what life had to offer and finding Rosalie sure as hell was not it. Not one bit, but despite how bad it looks for a family gathering how karma and destiny are laughing at Stacy’s parents right now, aren’t they?

Stacy couldn’t help to break out in a fit of laughter at the whole thing. Her dad hates Vampires with a passion, and Lucy is a werewolf that has the set rule that vampires are literally the devil.

Everyone stares at Stacy as if she had grown two oversize heads or had a concussion. Carlisle clears his throat about to say something to clear the confusion; however, Stacy beats him to it clearing her throat.

“Mom. Let’s not start this conversation now.” Stacy pushes hair out of her eyes back behind her ears. Her eyes never leaving Rosalie that seem to have calm once more not the daggers she sends Lucy two seconds ago, “When we get back home you cry to me how bad this looks or whatever not like you have taken everything else already”.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady”. Lucy eyes glow yellow like the verge of her humanity was question at this very moment in time. Carlisle turns in a flash stood in front of Lucy discussing with her without a word said his golden eyes keeping contact with her wolfish ones.

Rosalie closes her eyes taking a deep breath inching ever so closely to Stacy, her lips wide charming smile. Stacy looks at her like the world could have turn upside down and she wouldn’t have cared in the standing ovation that in reality without Stacy alternative motive Rosalie had made a vacation spot in her heart.

“Let’s leave them be for now”. Carlisle tries to stop Lucy growing discomfort racing thoughts in her little brain as her eyes dance from her daughter and Rosalie still though kind of alive light around Stacy. Carlisle brings Lucy’s eyes back to him like clockwork Lucy pushes past Carlisle trying to reach for Stacy.

It little, but it was enough. The intent alone Rosalie turn putting one arm over Stacy front the other to slap Lucy’s hand away just slightly as a way to say no, “I don’t think so”. Rosalie starts her golden eyes shine with the light in the room. A short but seemingly annoying smile paint on her lips less charming that her genuine one, Stacy thought. She ponders on how Rosalie genuine smile could light the room if she ever got to see it.

“Stacy expressed her mind just a second ago. Did you not heard her, or did you prefer not too?”. Rosalie asks not leaving much to Lucy to respond as she continues, “Are you the type of parent that does her way or the highway? If that’s the case let me make it heavenly clear to you. You can walk off and leave if so you wish, but Stacy isn’t leaving this house or my side or anywhere with you for that matter”.

Lucy growls shake the whole house and Stacy in it. Stacy glances up at Rosalie finding her nails ever slightly more interesting than Lucy who starts shaking at the apparent thought just clicking in her brain. Stacy stood frozen it has been a while 4 years to be exact since somebody had gone to step up for her like that to her own mother. The woman that in her mind couldn’t careless about well if she is a witch or not.

Rosalie looks up acknowledging Lucy glares.

“I am not a threat. I would never harm her”. Rosalie repeats the words she said not long ago. Stacy looks at her then her mother not sure why Rosalie keeps repeating that.

Stacy reaches out her hands to hold onto Rosalie’s cream sleeve blouse. The color did look good on her skin not much of a contrast for her pale skin; however, it looks good on her.

“It’s okay, angel”. Stacy blurts the nickname she believes fits perfect for Rosalie that really seems like the word if she stands still only needs to sprout out wings to fly off into the sunset, “Lucy will not harm me. She just wants to make sure I am okay after all I did just have a panic attack”. Stacy whispers each word softly taking breath in between them. Lucy glances down at her own flesh and blood, a nod she gave out to put truth to her daughter words.

Rosalie glances between them. Her danger level sky high willing to launch at the mom; however, she gulps anything she had inside her mind. She turns back to Stacy enjoy the idea of being next to her for however long they had, “Tell me, dove?”. Rosalie starts locking her golden eyes with Stacy. Her hands lock on the side of Stacy stomach pulling her up and down the counter with ease like Stacy weight absolutely nothing.

“Hey! I am heavy!”, Stacy protest that went unheard by Rosalie placing Stacy on the floor only letting go when Rosalie was sure Stacy could stand despite that Rosalie stood so close to her Lucy glares didn’t cease one bit.

“What’s your favorite color?”. Rosalie plays with golden locks from Stacy head waiting for the definitive answer.

“huh... Pink. Why?”. Stacy ponders confused of that question alone. She had though the first question a vampire had ask was something else entirely not her color preference.

“To get to know you better”. It was her response as she takes Stacy hands within hers leaving a soft kiss on them. Rosalie looks back at Lucy a glare of her own covering her golden eyes, “You need to get used to seeing me a lot more than now”.

“Rosalie. It’s time”. Alice clears her throat to the relief of Lucy hearing those words. Alice and Rosalie were out the room. Lucy grabs Stacy by the arm dragging her out the room with Carlisle behind trying to talk to Lucy who didn’t listen one bit. Stacy heard a couple of slipped words from them both speaking at a speed she had no idea her mom could even mutter words.

“This is the last tim-”. Lucy pushes the car door open dropping Stacy in it then shutting it. Carlisle appears in front of her soon after, “You know as well as I that separating them will set”.

Lucy opens the driver door then closes it again.

“My daughter is 17, Carlisle. 17. No. I am a mother first”. Lucy blurts out in shouts waving her hands in the air. Stacy rolls her car inside the car not sure what is going on but feels it has something to do with Rosalie. The anger that makes her feel she can pull up a cream blouse and not look like a total dead animal in it.

“We can figure this out just frequent visits”, Carlisle suggested his eyes fall to Stacy then back to Lucy whose thinks hard on such a decision. She looks to the trees then back at Carlisle, “Fine. Supervised visits. I will be present”.

“Of course”, Carlisle whispers gulping the lump in his throat. Lucy smiles satisfied at his answers opening the driver door to enter. Stacy asks what’s going on, but Lucy doesn’t answer what so ever. The werewolf around enters different cars driving after Lucy’s cars. Carlisle watching them leave down the streets a sigh escape his lips knowing this is another way karma is setting the wheels of destiny in motion. 

[spllbound]

(  SAVANNAH  LEE  SMITH,  TWENTY  )     ⸻     the  tri - wizard  tournament  has  brought  in  a  few  new  faces  to  the  corridors  of  hogwarts  and  while  they  are  here  she  has  been  known  to  listen  to  i  wanna  dance  with  somebody  (  who  loves  me  )  by  whitney  houston  on  repeat.  ROSALIE  DESJARDINS,  the  student  of  beaubaxtons  has  made  hogwarts  their  home  for  the  next  coming  months  and  if  you  ask  the  sorting  hat  ,  they  will  tell  you  that  they  can  be  MAGNETIC ,  RESOURCEFUL  and  DETERMINED  but  their  friends  will  tell  you  that  they  are  also  NARCISSISTIC.  people  have  been  whispering  with  the  talk  of  you  know  who  and  i  think  if  it  comes  down  to  it,  they  will  side  with  the  light.      ⸻     (  lemon  ,  23  ,  gmt  -  8  ,  she  /  her  ,  none  )

STATISTICS.

full  name   :   rosalie may desjardins

nicknames  ,   aliases   :   rose

age   :   twenty

school   :   beauxbatons

bloodstatus : pureblood

skill : no special skill

birthplace   :   paris , france

gender  +  pronouns   :   cis  woman  , she + her

orientation   :   pansexual , panromantic

father   :   pierre desjardins

mother   :   lavinia monroe

siblings   :   none

extended  family   :   the desjardins family

height   :   five  foot six

hair  color   :   black

eye  color   :   brown

rosalie was born in paris , her father a french wizard and her mother an american witch . he worked for the french ministry of magic and she for the macusa ( magical congress of the united states of america ) as their liaison to the french . the two fell in love and were married soon after , having rosalie as they celebrated their second wedding anniversary . unfortunately not a few years later they learned of lavinia's sickness , the illness was magical and something that was common within the members of her family . not a curse , just something that had always been there . she was twelve when the illness took over , leaving rosalie solely in the care of her father . it was hard to raise a child on his own but he did the best he could , they had enough money to live eternally comfortable . but external comfort could only do so much for broken hearts . her father loved her dearly but his grief drove him into his work , thus governess' were hired to care for the growing rosalie until she was old enough to attend beauxbatons . rosalie is a very magnetic person , some people are drawn to her not necessarily because they like her but because there's something about her energy that just . . . . is moths to a flame . she's not mean by any means but her ego is too big for her head , she's vain and narcissitic . you'll never find her looking anything put perfect .

[elanbeautyhouston]

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