#THE LAST DAY OF JUNE I MUST MAKE IT THE BEST-

[whereismyhat5678]

Ayyy I’m done with the doodles!! :DDD

For the last day of June, here are my head-canon sexuality’s for the rest of the Pizza Tower Crew:

Pepperman

The Noise and Noisette

The Vigilante

Gerome

(And) Pizza Face and Pizza Head

(Again these are just my head-canons 😅)

[oopsdevil]

COD + Tropes (pt. 2)

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + BLIND DATE

"i should be home right now" was the first thought simon had when he stepped foot into that fancy restaurant. the most dangerous man of the country, scared of a date.

in retrospect, he had it coming. he knew he shouldn't have let soap set him up with someone whose face he doesn't even know. and he is already sweating, feeling absolutely exposed without his mask and-

he saw you. and his mind went quiet. his only worry right now is how to be a worthy date for you. and yes, you must think he is an idiot for the way he keeps staring, but he can't help it. for once in his life he begs to whoever is listening: let this go right for me.

and someone must have heard him, because it was the best date of his life since you told him you would have preferred a more casual place. his heart skipped a beat when you mentioned you would cook for him on a second date.

now, he loves thinking about that first date, and how the second one turned into the best first kiss, and how the third one turned into you never leaving his bed again.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR

kyle was never a clumsy guy, so why does he keep tripping on his porch every time he sees his new neighbor? in his mind, you had to be flawed. something! you couldn't possibly be this perfect right? oh except he knows you are. he really tried to push his feelings, but you won his heart in a very simple way. his cat, peanut.

you should have seen his face the day he saw out the window and spotted his cat, comfortably sitting at your home. he came back later that night, but gaz kept it in his mind. and he started noticing it, the way you leave water for peanut in hot summer days and a window open to enter your room on rainy nights. and he just couldn't help it. after HOURS (yes, hours) of self pep talk, kyle knocked your door, offering a nice dinner and the chance to see peanut's own home.

peanut is delighted, specially because how years later, you brought to your shared place his new orange 'sibilings': bear and willow.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + LOVE CONFESSION

loud, funny, sarcastic, cheeky. that's soap. but johnny's face couldn't possibly get any more pink while looking at his best friend's sister. he has known you for years, spent dozens of holidays with you, shared hundreds of nights at clubs.

i mean, yeah, he felt like ripping his heart out when you brought your first boyfriend for thanksgiving. and he lied once or twice saying he was close to your house to give you a ride. and now... now maybe it's his age, everything he went through pushing him to chase after the only one who ever crosses his mind, and fuck- are your eyes brighter? he didn't think it was possible.

he thought about how to tell you in a million possible ways. and it came flying out of his mouth the second you told him you broke up with your man. you blushed and gave him a peck that stayed on his mind the rest of the night month.

"oh, me and him broke up last june actually-"

"go out with me"

KÖNIG + SECRET DATING

it was a very difficult mission: lots of planning, lots of packing, tracking, unloadings and-

this shouldn't be a problem. it has never been until now, but all he can think about are your lips while seeing you across the room. considering that you are a part of the 141, he barely ever sees you here, your relationship is exclusively civilian. so you both made a silent pact: no personal interact at work.

and it went well!... for like a day. and you really thought you could keep it a secret, but the way he looked at you and how bad you missed each other... you pushed it a little when you decided to let him sleep in your room.

now, it might be your dizzy head after making out all morning, but you forgot a very basic rule in the army; basically, no privacy. the fact that a superior could walk into your room at any giving moment is annoying, but at this point you were convinced the universe just hated you.

your lieutenant, the very overprotective man who took you under his wing, opened the door that very morning. ghost and könig looked at each other intensely for a long 10 seconds.

an hour, a black eye and a terrible lecture from price to simon later, könig still smiled. at least he didn't have to hide you anymore.

JOHN PRICE + LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP

you drive him crazy. he swears everything that comes out of your mouth makes his eyes roll. every petty comment, everytime you put him in his place, how you look at him during reports because you know you make him nervous. he hates when the rest sees the way he can't stand you, and why the fuck do they keep saying is sexual tension? because he gets closer to you when talking? that's purely for intimidation. in his defense, you hate him too! except he has no idea you blush the second he turns around, or how you defend him if another soldier questions his decisions.

feelings hit you both like a train a random night of spring. he heard crying in the hall, so soft he thought he was imagining it. he saw you and instinctively ran to you. in that situation, you just couldn't pretend anymore, you needed a minute to break about everyone and everything that has been pushing you to this moment. he wrapped his big arms around you, giving you the hug and body heat you both have been craving from each other. he internally promised himself to make it right, so his heart would never have to break again at the sight of your tears.

[buckets-and-trees]

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.  

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

READ THE NEXT PART: THE SILENCE OF THE HUSHED SUBLIME read more of the Cedar Trees AU

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

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[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (11/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 4.3k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol hello hi, being an an adult and a social adult is hard. I've had this written since June, but never got the time to edit it. Until now, I hope you enjoy it.xx

Thanks to those who have stuck around it means a lot!

Prev | next

m.list | series m.list | wattpad

Present: 

“I don’t get it?” Casey Han, the newly hired intern in the Writing and Rhetoric Department voices as she leans back in your office lounge chairs. Every Tuesday she comes into your office at four so you can help her review her Master Thesis on Language and Dialects in Different Regions. 

She also uses this as an opportunity to fill you in on the rumors floating around the office, pry you for juicy deets about yours and Namjoons relationship, or thirst over your best friend slash soon to be brother-in-law aka Jeon Jungkook. 

It used to bother you at first, but over the last two months you have grown fond of the graduate student. She has a great sense of humor, knows all the juicy gossip, and mainly buys you an iced americano every Wednesday and Friday morning. 

“What don’t you get Cas?” You stand up from your desk chair, walk to the other lounge chair and sit down. By now, all thesis editing, review, or proof-reading has ended. You get off work in five minutes and you have to wait for Namjoon to finish grading his final papers. A task you finished three days ago. 

“Your fiance is the hottest guy in this building and you’re always holed up in your office. If I was in your shoes I’d never keep my hands off him.” She shrugs, leaning her elbow against the arm rest and resting her chin over the palm of her hands. 

You laugh, shaking your head. If things were different and you didn’t know Casey the way you did, you’d surely be suspecting her of hinting at something else. But you have nothing to worry about with Casey. Her eyes are reserved for Jungkook or Leonardo “Dilf” DiCaprio. Her words not yours.

“I mean we’re together all the time. I think keeping our space at work is just our way of staying professional and it gives us something to talk about at the end of the day.” You shrug, chucking off your heels and crossing your legs underneath you. 

“You’re stronger than me.” She smiles, shaking her head. “But it's cute. One can only dream of having a relationship like yours.”

“Believe me it took a while to get here.” You brush her off. It did. After coming clean to each other, things didn’t automatically become all sunshine and rainbows. There were constant petty arguments about who takes the trash out? Who does the dishes? You vaguely remember getting annoyed with Namjoon because he couldn’t use a knife if his life depended on it. But the two of you decided that if you wanted your relationship to work, couples therapy was the best option. 

So, every Monday at five the two of you see Dr. Heras. It’s helped with talking to each other, and getting to know each other's triggers and how to handle them. The two of you have household assigned chores to each other, but if the other forgets the other has to step up. Nightly recaps are a must, which makes bedtime exciting for the two of you. It’s the main reason the two of you don’t meet up throughout the day until it's time to go home. Things still aren’t perfect but they’re getting better day by day.

Casey claps her hands together, bringing you out of your bubble. Her face is bright like she just remembered something and it excites you. “When is your dress fitting?” 

The brief excitement escapes you when you remember how much you’re not looking forward to it. Not because you don’t want to see your mother and Namjoon’s mother. It’s because you don’t like any of the dresses on the online catalog of Hyugas Bridal. 

“Saturday.” You say, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top of them. You’ve tried everything to convince yourself to be as excited as possible. It is your wedding dress fitting after all. A moment every little girl dreams about. A moment you have always dreamed about, but you can’t shake that there’s something holding you back from feeling exciting. 

No, you know exactly why you’re not looking forward to it. The reason starts with Jung and ends with Hoseok. 

He’s been in the back of your mind for the past week. Since the day the mothers have made a groupchat to decide the dress fitting date. At first you thought it was because it would be the first time they would be meeting. Then you shifted your blame when you caught a glimpse of the online catalog. Then one night while Namjoon was out with the boys, you remembered the faint promise from all those years ago, and things started making sense. 

No, you haven’t spoken to the well renowned designer in years. After a year communication between the two of you ran dry. You never resented him for it. You were going through things and he was building his brand from the bottom up. Your problems were only going to make him worry and that was the last thing you wanted. But he’s been living in your head rent free. You keep going back and forth. 

Should I text him?

Should I just settle? 

Should I text him? 

It’s a constant battle. One you haven’t decided on a winner. It’s putting such a damper on a day where you’re supposed to share fond memories with your mother and soon to be mother-in-law. Yet, you just can’t shake the feeling that you know what you want already. 

You're stubborn like that. 

“Why don’t you sound excited?” Casey lowers her voice. Her brows furrow in concern. 

As much as you love Casey and now consider her a close friend. This is something you don’t want to simply get into. So you lie, “I’m just nervous, our mothers are meeting for the first time. And both of them have strong personalities.” You sigh. 

Casey laughs, “I will keep you in my prayers for the rest of the week.” 

You smile, your attention getting caught on Namjoon’s ringtone. You don’t even need to check your phone to know that he’s texted you that he’s done and to meet him downstairs. So, without a minute of hesitation you slip your feet into your heels again and stand up. “Thank you, I think I will need it a lot on Saturday.” 

“Please, please, please send me pictures.” Casey clasps her hands in front of her, pouting and widening her eyes. You smile fondly. Casey has been your first female friend in years. A true girl's girl. A lovely breath of fresh air from all the testosterone you’ve been constantly surrounded by since childhood. 

“Of course, you’re the only one who will get pics anyway.” You round your desk and shut off your desktop, and pick up your work bag slinging it over your shoulder. 

“You mean I’ve knocked down the guys and made it up your list.” She stands up, smoothing down her pleated gray skirt. 

“You will always be at the top of the list Cas.” You smile, getting your phone and unlocking it to Namjoon’s short text: Done, down in 5 mins.

Followed by another one that says: Dinner?

You smile and type a quick: poke bowl plssssss.

You lock your phone and stuff it into the pocket of your gray dress pants. Casey scoffs as she opens the door to your office. “You two are gross and cute.” 

You follow her out of your office, “What do you mean?” You lock your office door and lock your arms with hers. 

“You get this huge smile on your face and then your eyes get all twinkly. It’s a little gross.” She bumps her hip with yours before giggling. “It’s so cute though.” 

“I think you’re making shit up.” You whisper, and she stops walking the minute she reaches the front reception desk. “I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow by the way.” You wink, as she takes her seat in front of her desktop. She still has two more hours left of her shift, and the last two hours are always the slowest. 

“You don’t have to but it's greatly appreciated.” She moves her mouse to wake up her monitor, and slumps in her seat sighing. “I’ll work on my revisions and email you the appointments for next week.” 

“Thanks Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You rush out when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You don’t bother to check it nor stay for her to reply the second the elevator dings on your floor. 

“Love ya,” Casey shouts after you, and you send her finger hearts as the elevator door closes. 

“Jin wants to go out for drinks tomorrow.” Namjoon says as he enters the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. His eyes find yours through the mirror as you begin to apply your night cream. 

You hum, placing the container against the counter. “You should go, the semester is almost over and you’ve been working hard.” You say, spreading the cream down your neck, cleaning your hands on a clean towel and proceeding to pick up the tube of your eye cream. 

“I know but he’s inviting Tae and these days wherever Tae goes so does Jimin.” He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards you. “Things are still a little awkward between Jimin and I.” He finishes, facing you and leaning against the bathroom counter crossing his arms in front of him. 

You smile, screwing the cap of your eye cream tube and placing it down. “I think you’re thinking about it too much. Jimin doesn’t hold grudges, plus we’ve talked things through already.” You pat your under eyes with your ring fingers and then turn to face him. “If it bothers you, you should talk to him too, but don’t feel pressured to do so because of me.” 

He nods, uncrossing his arms and grabs your hands, reeling you in. “I definitely want to apologize to him and settle things between us before the wedding, but I don’t feel ready.” 

“Then do it when you are ready Joon.” You reassure, lacing your fingers with his. “But I think you should still go, it’s been months since all of you got together to hang out.”  

Namjoon opens his mouth to interject but you stop him with a roll of your eyes. “Working out together doesn’t count.” 

He sighs, shaking his head, letting go of one of your hands and snaking his arm around your waist, scooting his leg between yours. “Sometimes it’s scary how you know what I’m thinking.” He whispers, placing his forehead against yours. “But I will go, I do miss them a little.” He confesses, and gives you a quick kiss on your lips before hugging you completely. “Can you tell me what’s been bothering you all week now?” 

The only downside of couples therapy and learning more about each other is that neither of you can hide anything anymore. He is well aware that you’ve been up in your head more than usual. 

You pull away, placing your hands on his cheeks. “Sometimes it's scary how you know that I’m thinking too much.” 

He plays with the tie of your bathrobe, chuckling at your response. “Your thoughts are too loud, and you didn’t sleep last night.” He shrugs. “I was waiting for you to wake me up to talk but all you did was sigh and turn a thousand times.”

You pout, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you up too.” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be. I would’ve interjected but I also know you wouldn’t have told me until your conscience was clearer.” 

You nod. “I’m nervous about Saturday.” 

Namjoon stops playing with the tie and hugs you again. “Don’t be, your mom is great and so is mine and I know they’ll get along fine. We might be making a mistake by introducing them to each other. I have a feeling they will be inseparable after Saturday.” 

“It’s not that Joon.” You sigh, he tilts his head to the side. “I know they’ll get along, it's just that–” You stop biting your lip, trying to sort your words out as quickly as possible in your head. 

As far you know, Hoseok and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in years. Jungkook knows why but he won’t tell you. He only says that they lost communication. But it's odd. Hoseok’s career has expanded to the point that he’s getting interviewed by Jimmy Fallon. He’s been invited to all the fashion weeks, and now has his own magazine. Your dream is to one day own one of his purses. You saw the ad for one a couple weeks ago on Instagram. You showed it to Namjoon and he had no reaction. 

Which was weird because you thought Namjoon would be proud of his once best friend. He even grumbled a little when he found your box that kept all the magazine clippings from his previous interviews. It was your way of showing your support from a distance. So, whatever happened between them isn’t a normal falling out with no hard feelings. 

From what you can tell there are hard feelings you just don’t know why. Nor do you want to pry, but the promise Hoseok made you all those years ago keeps echoing in your brain. 

Maybe this is why you’ve been running yourself up the wall. You want to reach out but you don’t know how Namjoon would react if you told him you were. After all, Hoseok was a huge part of your life. A relationship Namjoon witnessed from start to finish. 

“What is it?” He says with concern. 

“I don’t want my wedding dress to come from Hyugas Bridal.” You whisper. 

Namjoon nods, “That’s okay there’s so many other wedding dress shops, you can go to a new one.” He offers. 

You shake your head, “I don’t want any of those dresses from any of those shops.” 

Namjoon’s hands fall down to his side. “I see.” He pauses before, pushing past you and out the bathroom. His demeanor has changed so quickly you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what’s going on. 

You follow him. “Joon what are you doing?” You enter your bedroom. It’s empty and you begin to wonder where exactly your fiance went until you see him walk out of the closet with a slip of line paper in his hand. 

“Here,” He extends his hand. “Text him this is his new number.” He gently shoves the paper further in your direction. 

“What is this? Text who?” You take the folded slip of paper and watch as he walks to the bed, sitting down on the edge. 

“Hoseok, that’s who you want to design your wedding dress right?” He clasps his hands together. “He promised so it’s only right.” He adds, clenching his jaw. 

Now, you’re confused. Actually, you’re beyond confusion at this point. You’re also concerned because Namjoon looks like he’s about to burst. “H-How do you know?” 

Namjoon chuckles dryly, “He told me before he left.” He throws his hands up in the air. “Actually he told me a bunch of things but half of those things aren’t important. What’s important is that you want to wear one of his wedding dress designs so text him.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Why does this bother you Joon?” You say softly, placing your hands on top of his, trying your best to smooth down the grip. 

“Because it was supposed to be your wedding dress for your wedding with him.” He whispers, unclasping his hands and settling them on top of his pajama pants. 

“Namjoon, we were never going to get married.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“But you could’ve. He’s been back in town since January. Jin has tried everything to get us to meet again but I keep turning down his invites. If we hadn’t tried to solve our issues I have no doubt he would have contacted you again.” 

You smile, bringing his hands to your lap. “Namjoon, things between Hobi and I are long over. I won’t lie to you and tell you I don’t love him anymore because I do just not in the same way I loved him back then and not the same way I love you now. I don’t want to marry him, I don’t think I ever wanted to marry him in the first place. He will always love his career more than anything in this world and that’s okay. I never will hold that against him because although it hurt when we broke up and I did make bad decisions trying to fill the void I felt when he left. I grew up. We both grew up Namjoon.” You finish, bringing his hands up to your lips and kissing his palms gently. 

Namjoon sighs, “He will likely join us tomorrow and what if you run into him one day and fall for his charms again.” He pouts.

“Are you jealous?” You tilt your head in amusement. He lets go of your hands and rolls his eyes. 

“So what if I am. Is that a problem? He’s a much better man than me in every sense of the word.” He stands up and walks to his side of the bed before peeling back your duvet. 

You turn your body in his direction, biting your bottom lip to stifle your laugh. You’ve recently learned that Namjoon loves to sulk like a child and he has no problem expressing when something petty is bothering him. 

“It’s not, I think it’s cute.” You sit up on your knees, before he scoffs and lays down, his back turned to you. You move closer to him and wrap your arm around his torso before leaning your body over his so you’re face to face with him. “You’re more than enough Joon.” You kiss his temple gently. 

Namjoon rolls onto his back. “Are you sure?” He snakes his arms around your waist tugging you closer. You straddle his lap, and lean down resting your forehead against his. “I wouldn’t be working this hard to make our relationship work and better if I didn’t think you were enough.” 

He throws his head back in defeat. His heart is beating so fast he’s thankful you can’t feel or hear it. His jealousy simmers in dying embers. Despite some unresolved differences between him and his oldest friend, he knows Hoseok isn’t one to try to break marriage apart. 

“I love you,” Namjoon says after a while. His voice is soft and full of tenderness. 

I love you.” 

The last time you felt this nervous was the day you had to read your master thesis out loud in class to a group of judgmental writing students. The sales assistant has been watching you pace for the past five minutes since she led you to the back of the shop. 

You admit it was a long shot, texting your ex boyfriend and world renowned fashion designer after Namjoon went to sleep. Sure, what you received was a very polite and formal message. To which you concluded that it was probably his personal assistant that messaged you. 

So, did Hoseok know you were the one meeting with him about commissioning a wedding dress. Or did he figure it was just a normal customer. Still, the whole process was fairly quick. You figured he had a packed schedule considering he had just returned to his hometown after being away for years. You couldn’t help but wonder how things were going to go today, which was why you were running the clock, driving the sales assistant absolutely insane.

Finally, you get tired of wearing a hole in the ground and take a seat on the white sofa, just as the sales assistant whispers into her earpiece. “Mr.Jung will be here in two minutes.” She voices out, adjusting her blouse before moving to the door. 

“Thank you.” You say crossing your legs and placing your bag next to you. Quickly you decide that’s too comfortable so you uncross them and place your bag on your lap again. Fidgeting with your hands, while the door slowly opens, revealing the one and only Jung Hoseok.

You almost feel like suffocating. Your breath hitches as he strolls in wearing a black suit. His hair is slicked back, and some dark sunglasses on the tip of his nose. He oozes a wave of confidence that you have never seen before, and you begin to wonder if he even remembers you and the promise he made to you all those years ago. 

After five months of being away the two of you lost contact. Three years later he unfollowed you on instagram. Well technically he unfollowed everyone on instagram and only followed one person. A beautiful model whose name was Hailey. For years, they were speculated to be dating, but nothing has ever been confirmed or denied. So, who knows. But now he was here, silent, powerful, and looking better than ever. 

And you feel foolish.

“So he finally came to his senses.” Hoseok clicks his tongue and removes his sunglasses, revealing his beautiful warm eyes. 

You don’t know what comes over you. Just an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and before you know it you’re hugging him tight and crying into his very expensive suit. He chuckles, running a soothing hand down your back. He smells fresh, like a cool breeze on the beach. He feels different, but similar and all the love you once held for him comes rushing back in powerful strokes of color. 

For a moment you feel twenty-one again. 

Finally, you pull away and look at him, taking in all the features you once knew by memory. He has a few wrinkles on the side of his eyes. But he looks sharper in all the right places and you realize that just like Namjoon he has aged like fine wine. 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle, smoothing out the lapels of his suit. “I don’t know what came over me.” You chuckle awkwardly, looking around, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. 

He chuckles, placing his hands on top of your shoulders. “I see you’re still as emotional as ever.” He notes, running his hands down your shoulders before taking your hand in his. He leads you towards the couch and sits you down before taking the seat next to you. 

“Now, tell me how have you been?” He tilts his head, intertwining your fingers with his. If you didn’t know better, you’d mistaken this for a romantic gesture. But you know better as much as you love Hoseok. The love you feel for him is different from the love you feel for Namjoon. It’s just nostalgia with Hoseok, it’s unforgettable memories that you’ve buried. It’s young love that hasn’t known experiences. It’s the chase but never settling. And you’re ready to settle down. 

“I’ve been great. The fall semester starts next week so I’ve been running around like crazy, in and out of meetings. You know the usual boring work life.” You wave off, wiping your eyes with the handkerchief he's handed you. “How have you been, you look amazing.” You blurt out, widening your eyes. 

He chuckles, “I’ve been better, fashion week is in a month and we are still deciding on garments for the models to wear.” 

“Wow, fashion week.” You say in disbelief, shaking your head, to keep the tears at bay. “You really made it Hobi. I’m so proud of you.” You whisper the last part and hug him once more, letting go of your tears. 

It was so embarrassing but you couldn’t help it. You’ll send him money for the dry cleaners later. 

“It wasn’t easy but knowing I’ll one day have this moment with you kept me going.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head, and pulling away. “You look amazing too, I’d love to have you as my professor.” He winks, making you laugh.

“I’d love to have you as my personal designer.” You retaliate, making him laugh. He lets go of your hands and stands up, posing dramatically. “That’s why I’m here. Now, come on, I have a few design ideas I want to run by you first.” He extends his hands for you and pulls you up quickly. “These are just prototypes but I think they all suit you one way or another.” He says, nodding towards the sales assistant who leaves through the bright pink curtains. 

“Wait, wait, wait Hobi. How do you already have prototypes?” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes jokingly. “Joon and I have been in contact here and there. So, I’ve been designing these since then. And don’t worry he hasn’t seen any of them.” 

You’re floored, your annoyance zeroing in on your conniving and jealous fiance. Why the hell did he make you meeting Hoseok such a big deal if he had been plotting this against your back? But instead of focusing on that, you feel the butterflies in your stomach begin to erupt when the sales assistant comes in with three garment bags. 

“Are you ready?” Hoseok says, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his dress pants. 

Your heart begins to thunder against your chest when each garment bag is hung in front of you. You look at Hoseok who has the biggest smile on his face and you realize what a full circle moment this is for the two of you. You gave up your relationship for dreams either of you didn’t know you’d ever achieve. Yet, here you are. Him a self made fashion designer making a pit stop on his busy schedule to do this for you. And you, you are working your dream job and getting ready to marry the love of your adult life. 

You smile nodding enthusiastically. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

A/n: it's short, but I will try to be more consistent with my uploads. Check out all my other stories too!

[smolvenger]

The Baronet Seeks A Wife, Chapter Two

A Crimson Peak Multi-Part Fanfiction.

Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Arranged Marriage AU.

Summary: England in the 1890s. When your spirited sister, Charlotte, defies your family by running away from her arranged engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe, you are the one who must keep your family from scandal and ruin...by taking her place as the baronet's bride.

Word Count: 6441 (have your tea and biscuits ready)

Chapter warnings: Grammer and spelling mistakes that missed my radar. Hints of past child abuse and a brief mention of sex, but nothing explicitly discussed, my performing arts side rears its head. I do my best to portray the period as accurately as I can and Thomas as accurately as I can. Some angst and something of a small anxiety attack/meltdown if you can call it. But fluff! Lots of fluff!

If I miss something and you see something in my work that could be triggering that I didn't mention, then it is your responsibility to please please please tell me. I will take full accountability for how I portray marginalized groups and sensitive subject matter and make sure to better my writing and warnings so affected parties are protected.

A/N: Missed it? It's back, baby! I had some BAD writer's block with this miniseries, but I figured it out. Thanks to your help!Without it, part 2 wouldn't see the light of day. So enjoy!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5

@muddyorbsblr @goddessgirl43

The Baronet Seeks A Wife Taglist: @stainlessciel @mjsthrillernp @thegodofnotknowing @magicalmichelle96 @princessdragon23 @heavyymetalchick @xalphafox (if anyone wants to join a general taglist of my work or just be on this specific one, let me know!)

The sun beat down on you for the opening day of Ascot and your little lace parasol and hat could only shield so much. You were in light-colored laces and full trim. Your dress was a light pink. You needed a lighter color to not attract heat  

Plenty of other ladies would be in lighter fabrics for the June weather. But their eyes would flicker to you and whisper. You held up your open parasol and hid beneath it. Wishing it would block more than the sun. You scurried behind your mother.

The men, that is, papa and Sir Sharpe were with one servant picking a spot for the picnic before the horses could be released.

 It would be your first outing as the betrothed of Lady Sharpe in the public eye. Your schedule had already been booked for a one breakfast party, a reception, and a ballet next week. The last one you were particularly excited for as they were doing Tchikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty and scrambled to get tickets. But ballet or horses or breakfasts could not hide the fact that you would be a figure of attention, weather you wanted it or not.

You closed your parasol and set it on the ground. Walking with it like a cane. 

The stretch of grass continued like the sea beneath you. How big the Ascot grounds were! And people were crowding everywhere all over the grass. Plenty of picnic blankets were already stretched out, a healthy distance away from the stands and the dusty tracks. There were people all around, standing and chatting. 

Eventually, you noticed two men. Two familiar voices, though one a little less familiar than the other.

“Here, let’s put the marmalade right here- and I think we’re ready,” you heard Sir Sharpe advise a servant. He nodded as the fellow got out jars from a picnic basket and put it on the red blanket.

His voice. There was something about it that made you falter. It was a rich, creamy baritone that made something inside you shiver. And all he did was talk about food!

Yet, even as attractive as he was, the Baronet was a stranger. You knew very little about him and you were about to enter his title, his house, and his bed-

No, now was not the time to dwell on such matters.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward, meeting your mother’s brisk pace to greet the men.

Your father perked up as did Thomas, in their typical dark suits and their top hats. Sir Sharpe even lowered his hat and smiled at you in greeting.

“Why, ladies, it is good you both made it in time,” he wished. 

All of you sat down, obediently sitting next to your fiancee. Nibbling on sandwiches and fish and fruit. Waving away flies that dared disrupt finery. For that was the true purpose of the race,  far more than the horses- to be part of a walking parade of who was the most elegant in London.

“Now, Thomas, how has the clay mining been coming along?” your father asked.

You were sat down next to him. He grinned at your father, his posture relaxing.

“Very excellent, sir. The warmer seasons meant the mining has been smoother,” he reported.

“Hmph, well- that is all good. But, speaking of seasons, where the devil is old Mr and Mrs. Barnes? They never miss as Ascot and I’ve yet to see them!” your father teased.

Turning around, you noticed people turning their heads to watch you. They would pause. Then turn to their neighbor and whisper something in their ear. Men and women, the young and the old. Studying you. Looking at every last speck of marmalade you spread on bread and every crumb you ate. 

Suddenly, your stomach was too turned to have cake.

Thomas looked over at you.

“Miss Y/L/N?” he asked.

You leaned closer to him, your shoulders hunching up. You got closer to his ears.

“Everyone- they’re looking at us. Talking about us,” you hissed.

He followed your eyes, scanning and seeing the invisible court displaying their silent judgment. He turned to you.

“I notice them too,” he whispered.

“I’m glad. I’m not going mad and seeing things.” you confided.

“Then, let’s give them something to talk about,” he replied.

He offered his hand outstretched. You accepted it, your bare hand meeting his as he helped you up. He pulled you up as easily as you were air. He then positioned your arm to be wrapped around his.

“I would like to walk with my fiancee, if you don’t mind,” Thomas announced.

“Oh, of course!” your mother replied.

 With his top hat on, you retrieved your parasol and opened it for shade. Then you walked on. 

Faces turned and a few heads bowed, you returned the gesture. 

But you noticed Thomas. His head was high and his chest up. He smiled with a pride not even the most wily gossip could deter. Thomas would look at you and smile, and you would smile back.

He was happy with you, or at least acting like it. And you could not resist a smile with him. And anyone who came up to Thomas, he introduced you as “my charming fiancee, Miss Y/L/N.”

The message was then received. No figure of pity was Miss Y/F/N.

Let them look. Let them see. You would not let the murmurings of strangers make you fret. Thomas seemed perfectly fine and happy with you and you would appear perfectly fine and happy with him. Strolling with him on the grass beneath a sunny day felt natural. Something any ordinary couple would do.

Reaching near the stands, it seemed as people were less interested in the two of you. Crowds more intrigued as to who would win and watching for jockeys and steeds than scandal.

You had to learn more about him. A little by little. You turned over to Sir Sharpe.

“I never hear about your own family. You know everything about mine, but I know nothing of yours. What were they like? Your mother and father?” You asked.

Thomas kept walking forward, you passed the stand for lemonade but you brought no cash to pay for some. Thomas kept his eyes forward as you strolled on past everything.

“My father- his name was James and his wife was Beatrice. He was…an intimidating man. He He wanted me to be like him- taking me with him to work or on hunting trips. He ran a clay mining buisness, but he lost it in an accident. There was…a disaster occured, costing him the mining lives and much of his fortune. We lived over in the countryside, near a small town. I grew up in a large manor house with my sister.”

“What was her name?”

He hesitated.

“Lucille. Lucille Sharpe,” he answered.

“Was she older or younger?”

“Older. We…we lost both of my parents. First my father, and then my mother when I was young. I was sent to boarding school and then reunited with my sister. She fell ill. And never got better. So since then, I have no close family and only distant relations.”

“Oh, Thomas, I am so sorry!” you cired.

His face turned a little white when you turned to face him. He looked down. “I think of them. Lucille, especially. She in many ways was an astounding woman. Intelligent, careful, brave, hard-working...she cared for me. She loved me, in some way, and did so much to help me. And she suffered quite a lot. Especially in her sickness. I could at least make sure her passing was peaceful.”

“Would she have liked me?” you asked.

He paused in his steeps. It was so abrupt, you felt a small jolt.

“No, she wouldn’t have.”

You tilted your head.

“Why?”

He again hesitated.

“She was more…cynical of the world. Life had been hard for her. And for mother. And for me.”

You blinked. He kept his eyes lowered, and began to blink rapidly. At one point, he just squeezed them shut. Part of you felt guilty for pressing it.

“I…I do not wish to discuss it now. Please,” he replied.

You took a step back, releasing from his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Sir Sharpe. I didn’t know it would be-”

“Don’t be,” he replied

His eyes were back open. A small, cold shiver ran down you despite the heat. Then you closed the gap, placing a hesitant hand on his arm in comfort.

“A sibling is like having your closest friend always with you. I was inseparable from Charlotte. And then when she ran away out of nowhere, with no warning…it was like she died. I grieve her still. I cannot imagine what it is like for you.”

He looked up at you. It was as if the crowds never mattered and it was only you both alone around the tracks.

“We have something in common, then. We have both lost sisters,” he pointed.

“We’ll grieve them. But we don’t have to greive them alone. Not anymore,” you assured him.

There was a sudden excitement among people as they scurried over to their seats. You had jumped. How much time had passed?

‘I think it’s best we get our seats, the race is about to begin.” he advised. 

It wasn’t long before you found your parents and joined your seats for the races. 

But your mind was elsewhere.

You remembered Sir Sharpe’s words. You knew a little bit more about him. He seemed less a stranger and more an acquaintance now. Yet- what happened to make him turn so pale? To not wish to speak? If that made him act like that, then whatever happened with his family…it wasn’t good. At least Lucille seemed interesting…but whatever made her so cynical? To where she would have hated you if you met her alive?

Part of you knew the answer. And it made your heart break for him- he was hurt as a child. His parents were cruel to him and his sister. But he didn’t want to discuss it in such a public area.

You settled into your seats from your tickets with your family. You passed around small opera glasses. Watching and watching for the stampede to pass by. For the hooves and horses and rush of wind to bring you to the present, and not the past of a sad little boy in a big manor frightened of his father.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

It seemed the week swirled by. Now as an engaged woman, there was less pity and gossip.

At least, negative gossip.

 Sir Sharpe played the role of a good fiancee in public. Appearing to help escort you around gallatnly and smile at you warmly. Though he was a quiet man, observing everything. Sometimes a loud noise made him seem to want to shrink his tall frame. 

You still put in your mind the bits and pieces about him. That he lost parents, the father mistreated him. He even lost a sister he was close to. That he ran a mining business harvesting clay. He was always polite at least and charming at most. You did feel your stomach flutter when he would smile at you.

But at the breakfast and garden parties women flocked to you like puppies. They bombarded you with questions about the wedding. What you would pack. Where you would hold it. If you have picked a dress yet. You had always replied with a demure “Well, I don’t know,” yet. Sometimes you threw in “I am only grateful that Sir Sharpe is a good man,” for good measure. That seemed to please them for now. They would offer their congratulations and hopes for an invitation for the marriage where you would become a lady.

Lady. You would be a capital L Lady. Steps below earls and viscounts, but still among them. You would outrank some of these very women. No wonder they flocked to you- it was good to be an ally to a baronet’s bride, not a foe.

Tonight was finally the ballet. No one would run to you to congratulate you or pepper you with questions you couldn’t answer yet. Not for long. Instead of socializing, you could sit back and watch something long for once.

You were dressed in a lovely gown. It was satin, a deeper, more womanly color of rich, dark blue than the fluff at Ascot. You had long matching gloves and the sleeves were small but showed off your shoulders. You had a train cut into scallops. A soft flounce of tulle extended to your shoulder. Jewels across your bodice tinkling as you moved, the satin touching the floor. None needed to doubt that soon you were going to be a baronet’s wife. You had to look the part one way or another. By far, it was the most expensive of your wardrobe this season and the most beautiful. Now was the time to unleash it.

Your father praised you as a vision as you descended the stairs. “Won’t your baronet be beside himself! Now, go enjoy, my dears,” he wished your mother and you.

You headed to the carriage. London was lovely at this dark hour. There were lights on to contrast with the night’s shadow. The opera house appeared like a temple above any house on the street.

Though there was a crowd of audience members, who should be out on the steps but Thomas Sharpe. He had an opera coat and his classic top hat. He was standing watching other go by.

The carriage stopped and the door on your side was opened.

 Sir Sharpe paused and took you in. The coachmen helped you down  and your mother after. You felt a little exposed in all this. Self conscious it was too much.

Sir Sharpe then went up to your hand.

“How are you?” you asked.

“I hardly know. I only know that you are radiance itself,” he replied. He took your hand and wrapped it around your arm.

You got warm all over from his voice saying that. Oh, blast him! Blast how he could make you feel so giddy and fighting the urge to giggle like a girl!

You walked up the stairs into the lobby of the theatre. Your shoes touched red carpet and you passed the creamy insides- all marble with vases of flowers and paintings and electric light. Some stared at the Baronet and his Lady, and you let them. Giving them a show as good as any dancer could.

You had your tickets approved and were escorted to your seats. You had a certain box where the three of you had some privacy to sit amongst each other. As you sat on red velvet plush, you rested your gloved hands on the high railing and looked at Thomas. In his tuxedo, his dark curls combed back, he still seemed like every bit of a ladies’ dream.

“Have you ever been to a ballet by Tchaikovsky?” you asked him.

“Oh, no I haven’t. Only concerts of his music,” he replied. But then he smiled. “They’re such lovely pieces, though.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. When there are dancers added to tell the story, it becomes something very special. I saw The Nutcracker two Christmases ago and adored it. Lottie only liked it when the little girl in the ballet hurled a shoe at the mouse king,” you reported.

He let out a light chuckle

“I’m not surprised,” he said.

You sat down with the pamphlet, re-reading the title and the cast list. Your mother was using her opera glass to watch the audience below. You returned to your fiancee. 

“The Sleeping Beauty- did you ever like fairy tales when you were little?” you had to ask questions, know a bit more of him.

“Oh, yes, I did,” he replied. “I enjoyed many of them. But I don’t remember them too vividly.”

“What kind of stories did you hear?” you asked.

Thomas leaned forward. His voice quiet.

“Well…ghost stories.” he explained.

You squinted, surprised at his reply.

“Ghost stories!? Isn’t that much for a little child?” you asked.

“Perhaps it was. But that was what was told,” he answered.

 One could hear the orchestra warming up. You put a gloved hand on his arm. Thomas didn’t say a peep and the crowd could only mutter. Besides, that always felt a little rude to you. When people lounged about during performances like it was a party and chatted loudly, unappreciative of the artists at work before them!

The conductor arrived to applause and bowed. Then he turned around, lifted his baton, and began the ballet as he lowered it like a magic wand. A spirited introduction blasted, almost making you jump. 

The stage curtains parted and dancers entered as the music slowed down with a harp and sweet flutes as the king and queen entered, holding a bundle in their arms.

For those three hours, you were not an adult. You were a child again who could believe in such things. A child who believed fairy tales was what life was like. Complete with pink ribbons, lace, and magic, fairy’s wings, and princess’s crowns. Where flutes and strings surrounded you. Where dancers smiled as they stood up on their toes and leaped like it was as simple as sleeping. 

You glanced at Sir Sharpe once when the Lilac Fairy entered. He didn’t whisper to you. You only met his eyes to see he was already looking at you. Something warm crawled up you. You didn’t know if you wanted to touch him or to not be touched by him. Then hearing the sound of feet hit the ground on a leap, you turned back to the stage, hypnotized by what you saw.

It was a world where the politics of society didn’t matter. Scandals were trifles, and sisters didn’t disappear. Where fairies could be met at parties. Where magic would prevent a couple from losing their daughter. A princess may be smiling and full of life- but even when she pricked her finger, she would not have had her life cut short because of forces beyond her control. It was where a cursed princess would be kept safe in a deep slumber. Soft and cozy on her beautiful bed. A world where a prince and a fairy could overcome evil. 

When the prince awoke the princess, they knew they were meant for each other. That the one person they waited their entire lives for was right before them. They could marry and not be afraid the choice was wrong. The wedding would be blessed and celebrated with everyone smiling and dancing to sumptuous music. 

As it got close to the end, no one wondered if the prince and princess would be miserable in their union or if another wicked fairy would arrive to hurt them or their families or their people. Everyone would be alive, safe, and happy.

If only things were that simple in real life.

You had to remember yourself after the applause. Blinking rapidly, you then squinted your eyes as the house lights came on. You re-emerged from the darkness like Orpheus returning from the Underworld, transformed by what you saw and returned. You then rose to your feet and applauded. You were watching with a heavy heart as the curtains closed and people left their seats. You had to remember that you were you and this was the real world. No magic. No fairies. No princes. Just baronets.

“Here, let me walk you to the carriage.” Thomas offered, giving you his arm. 

You held onto him, leaning tight. How easily he was able to pull you through! Despite his leanness, he did have strength! 

As you walked down the hall, you clung to your program, making sure you would always have a reminder of tonight.

“What did you think?” your mother asked as she scurried up to you.

“It was…it was incredible,” you replied, your voice suddenly breathy from wonder.

“Well, I was fighting the urge to sleep!” your mother replied. 

She stopped both of you in your tracks before you could proceed a step.

“Now, my dear Y/N, we have a wedding to discuss and plan. So I hope you sleep well, ready for some discussion the next morning, won’t you?” she asked.

“I shall.”

But when you went to bed, your mind was torn. Imagining yourself in stories was a way to help you go to sleep, you found. As music from the ballet kept playing in your head, you found yourself split into two characters.

One was a stoic, obedient bride of a wedding out of convenience who would not cause one toe to step in the wrong place or else ruin everything. The other a fairy tale princess protected by fairies who would survive her curse and find true love. 

But only one of those was real.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The next morning, as soon as you woke up and went down for breakfast, your mother stormed you with books. They were journals and catalogues, listing courses and decorations, and options of churches.

All of your parents wanted you all of the time. 

“I like these colors,” you pointed out, seeing samples of cloth.

“But no! It’s not in fashion!” your mother cried.

There were invitations to pick. And then trying to decide who to send them to. You had to include family members, sure, as well as the few people Thomas was related to. But there were also father’s business partners, with whom he wanted to share cigars and brandy and business. Then you had to pick who to invite and if they would gossip or appreciate the triumph. But you had to think of Miss So and So or Mrs. So and So who was rumored to do this and that and wouldn’t it be unbecoming if she so much as turned up on the steps of the church and-

A heaviness grew on you. How much did you actually sleep last night?

But then deciding on family members meant your mother got out her boxes of photographs. She had a hobby of familial history and photographs and would lovingly tell you all about them. For one hour. Then two. You were itching to get up, do something productive, but stuck with your mother in her distracted cycle.

The next days passed and you had to select wedding cakes. You wished for a certain cake, but you felt ashamed choosing it since you knew it might not be what everyone wanted. Aunt Jacqueline coudln’t eat it because of her indigestion. That would be rude. But Mr. Linnet, Papa’s buisness partner, had a particular hatred of almond cake. Any and every flavor was wrong. You had to plan a wedding they would not scoff at or think otherwise.

You were running between shops, spending more on ribbon samples than actual ribbons and there was no color everyone was happy with.

As for the wedding gowns, you had visited one boutique and you had tried on so many dresses that it seemed you were going to hallucinate looking at so much white. And no one would all agree on what gown would be the best one. One wasn’t even decided on and you all ate lunch in sour moods.

And that was on top of callers and people coming in and out from the season and trying to keep up with events.

The week was going by in a flurry. Your business tripled. You were certain at every meal and when you sat down, your mother brought out photographs because the  invitations made her sentimental and by the second week, you were certain you were hearing her recall the same stories over and over again until you could even predict the cadence of her voice.

The gatherings only tripled. Your parents were always asking you to change this or that, or what do you think of this flower or this color or this ribbon or this food, or here is a picture of this great aunt you barely remember but you must care about, and oh- you have to select what flowers you want for the bouquet and which ones on the reception table and to please start planning your trousseau, Y/N, because you must decide which things you wish to take with you when you move into Sir Sharpe’s home, you must consider what to bring, you really ought to-

The few hours you had to yourself, you wanted to relax. Sew something or read a book or anything…but your mind would not focus, would not settle. And those were the hours when no one called for your presence, word, or help. You felt exhausted, and yet at night sometimes you struggled to go to sleep from how wound up you were.

Your head was spinning one afternoon a week later. At luncheon all everyone would talk about was the wedding as they flittered around with vases of flower examples and ribbons and pictures of cakes and dresses from advertisements. As your mother got out her photograph box. But you could only sit there, drained and silent, and feeling like you were staring into nothing.

You were trying so hard to be everything to them. The good daughter. The virtuous bride. The one who could make everyone happy. One who could have her entire life change at once and endure it with only a stoic smile.The one so glad to help and listen and who knew everything. 

As your mother got out a second pile of photographs and began to tell you for the fourth time all about your great grandfather Kenneth and his wife, Bertha, going on a camping trip in nature and getting lost, you had a sudden urge to scream “I’ve already heard this stupid story enough! I don’t care about them!” and rip up the photos before you.

But you swallowed it down, your face hot. Your chest was tight. Ashamed you would even consider wrecking something that made your mother happy? Priceless momentums of your history destroyed in a flash of weakness? Of losing your temper in front of everyone? 

Everything got tight, tight and you were getting warmer and warmer. People began to crowd around you. Their chatter swirling around you like the sea and you could not breathe for air.

“Miss Y/L/N-”

‘St. Joseph is a lovely church-”

“What about blue for the-”

“There should be duck with wine sauce and-”

At once you pushed away your seat from everyone. The lump in your throat growing. A dull, heavy ache all over your body.  A weight in your head and your mind about to break.

“I-I-I..” you began as they gaped.

You tried to calm yourself. To put the feelings in a box and push it away for a little bit. But still it rumbled on.

“I need a moment!” you claimed. You then turned around, starting to make a brisk walk out of the door.

In walked one maid.

“Oh, we have a visitor!” she announced.

You made no reply and went past her, down the hall, hurrying for your room. Once inside, you locked the door.

Legs trembling, you tried to make it to the bed. 

Instead, you collapsed in a heap on the floor. 

Finally, alone, you did not have to pretend. Crumpling up into a near fetal position despite your dress, the long-suppressed tears coming out. There was no dignity, no strength. Just the washing of your tears as it ebbed and flowed out of you.

 It didn’t make sense. You had a wedding to look forward to, and so much you took for granted. Your future was secured. Your family’s reputation was revived. You had no reason to curl up and sob. Someone would look at you and say you were acting immature, that you were too old for your age to be lying down and crying. 

‘That’s what I am. An immature, ungrateful fool,’ you thought.

It made no rational sense. Emotions never made any rational sense. 

Despite all this, here you were sobbing. Crying out the exhaustion, the overwhelm. Hot tears sprang out and went to the floor. At this rate, you’d ruin the carpet. Your throat scratchy and your body shaking as each new cry heaved out.

There were footsteps. Then three knocks.

Your mind spun on in its cycle of misery. ‘I even ran away when we had callers. I am the worst. I waste my time. I’m foolish and wasteful. I don’t deserve anything good, I’m so miserable and scared and I hate myself and I don’t know what’s going to happen to me and I hate who I am and I wish I could change that, but I can’t and I-’

The knocks returned. 

But you got up and turned. You reminded yourself of how hard it felt. To be back in your body, and not in your head. You turned around.

“Come in,” you croaked out.

Outside was Anne. Your lady’s maid curtsied.

“Sir Sharpe is here. And he wishes to speak to you in private in the parlor and your father consented.”

She reached a hand and helped you up. You wiped off any remaining tears from your eyes.

“Tell him I shall join him soon,” you replied.

Anne nodded and hurried out. You made sure to fix yourself. Your eyes looked a little tired and you dried off any tracks of tears from your cheeks. After checking that your appearance was decent, you followed out to the parlor. 

Your parlor had green and white patterned wallpaper and portraits watched your every move as you got inside. Thomas stood. Dressed in his usual black coat, his hat to his side. He looked odd amongst hte ostentatious furniture of red velvet couches. But he bowed to you nonetheless.

No chaperone. No eyes. Only the two of you. One of the blessings of being an engaged couple.

“Would you like me to ring for some tea?” you asked, eyeing the long chord from the ceiling on one corner of the room.

Thomas stepped closer. 

“Miss Y/L/N…you’re distraught,” he observed.

Your lips parted but did not make a sound. Then a small string of them came out.

“I…I…I shall be fine, sir-” 

“Miss, you do not speak as a content woman. Tell me- what is it?” he asked.

He gestured to the couch to sit next to him. You joined next to him, your hands folded and nervously fidgeting. You noticed you were close to him. His warmth from the dark colors and the smell of his light cologne. You felt your chest heave a little, the words so heavy on your tongue. Eager to come out.

“I’m so sorry…it’s just..everything is changing…” you began.

You looked down at your hands. How close his thighs were next to your skirt. Then you looked up at him. There was a…a gentleness in his face, in his eyes. A softness. He was not judgemental. And if he was, he wasn’t saying anything.

“It’s changing so fast. My sister is gone. I’m going to live in a different house and not see my parents. I’m going to be Lady Sharpe and I don’t know what's going to happen to me after we’re married. I- I want to be married, I always have. Now it’s finally happening.”

Your breath was shallower. The emotions burst up. But Thomas made no change in his gentle expression.

“But it means I have to plan a wedding in a month. And all of the time that I have is taken up on this wedding. No one can agree on anything. I can’t find the right decorations, food, or dress. And everyone asks for me and needs me. They need me to listen to them babble on. And I’m trying so hard to be good, to make everyone happy, and get everything done but I…I…”

The lump in your throat returned. Your eyes felt heavy with tears again. They began to well up in your eyes despite yourself. Right when you thought you were done, that there would be no more, they came again.

“I am just…I… there’s so much to do, I don’t even know where to start. And I…I want to shut it all off, but I can’t. And I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve already ruined everything. Or I’m about to…” you babbled on.

He offered his handkerchief. It was a plain cream with lining.

“Thank you, Sir Sharpe,” you said.

“Thomas, please.” he insisted.

You took it in your hand.

“Thank you, Thomas,” you said.

His lips curled up as he heard your name. 

“You can say it. I’m making a big fuss of nothing. That I’m a fool,” you replied.

Thomas shook his head.

“ I’ve met foolish people. You are not one of them,” he answered. 

He leaned closer.

“And have you considered that it takes months to plan a wedding? And you are doing it in one. That is Herculean, don’t you think?”

His voice was a whisper.

“If there are any fools, it is your parents,” he teased.

You wiped your face with the handkerchief again. A small smile grew on your face.

“I…I…I suppose”

He offered you his hand and you took it. It was comforting- warm and large and beautiful. You liked it when he offered his hand, you liked touching it, touching him. Something about it always comforted you.

“We will have a wedding. I don’t think it should matter if it is a spectacle or not. What does matter is…is that…”

He began to hesitate. Then he looked up.

“I know you don’t know who I am. Or much about me. Or if you can trust me- but what does matter, Y/N. I will do my best to make sure you are provided for. That you are safe. Content, if not happy. We will make sure our wedding is a fine day. And if it is not, then It will only be one day and then it will be over.”

You felt his thumb trace over your hand. A small little back-and-forth movement, just grazing your skin.

“The wedding- how will I plan it?” you questioned. 

“You will choose what you want. And forget them all. You are the bride. You should have a final say. And if anyone disagrees- you can bring them to your husband.”

Swallowing, you lowered your eyes briefly. Timidity overcoming you from all of this for a moment.

“We’re not married yet,” you reminded him.

A light laugh got out of Thomas in an exhale. 

“Well…no…”

You looked back up at him.

“Thomas, will you- will you help me with all of this? Speak to them, perhaps? Reason with them? Try to- to help?” you asked.

“Oh, of course.”

You felt yourself breathe out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad…and yet…Thomas, I confess, I’m scared.”

“I am too.”

He paused. You looked into him and saw fear in his eyes as well. It struck you that of course, he would be feeling the same as you regarding this. Marrying someone he knew partially out of convenience. 

“Y/N…you…you do not hate me, do you? Because that is what I fear,” he asked.

You placed another hand over him, leaning closer.

“Oh no! Thomas, you have been nothing but a gentleman. I don’t hate you at all.”

He smiled.

“There. That’s better than a quarter of the marriages here already,” he replied.

Part of you laughed lightly. To think both tears and laughter could be shared in so short of a time with him. That you could release your sorrows and then have cause for sudden bursts of joy.

“ But…we will adjust to it. Everything won’t be horrible. We’ll just become acquainted with each other. Bit by bit. We could be friends,” you replied.

He took your hand and leaned down, pressing another kiss to it gallantly. He then released the hold and reached into his inner coat pocket.

“I have a gift for you. It was going to be a wedding gift, but I was wondering how you were feeling amidst all of this and  thought it might cheer you up.”

Perhaps it was something sweet. Or a tiny book? What could be a small, but tasteful and not too expensive gift he could give? 

Out came a small box- that is, if “box” could apply. It was a small circular item. Like a lady's powder or dusty blush container. But there was a knob on its side.

“Turn it,” Thomas instructed.

It struck you- it was a music box.

You turned the knob with a small “krrk” sound. The lid opened to reveal tiny, mechanical ballerina spinning on pointe. The chimes crinkled out a tune in three-quarter-time time. It was the Sleeping Beauty waltz.

You gasped. He placed it in your hand to cup it as the ballerina twirled to the music. You saw a crown on her head and a smile on her face, just like the prima from when you saw it.

“Do you like it?” he asked shyly. Something of a blush on his cheeks.

“Thomas! It’s exquisite! Where did you find this?” you asked.

“I made it,” he explained.

You turned around, careful not to drop it.

“You made this?” you asked.

“I did,” he confirmed.

Looking closely, it was so lovingly detailed and crafted, it had to be the work of a person. Not a common souvenir from the theatre.

“You…you make things?” you asked.

“Yes. I have since I was a child. And now I made a machine that harvests clay from all of the times I fiddled with gears. I find lately now I can come up with toys as well, Isn’t it silly?”

“No, not at all! It’s more business! And…you made the machine from the business! It’s- it’s incredible…” you rattled in your excitement. 

His hand returned to yours, joining it as the lid of the music box closed.

“Y/N, I know there are concerns, and I may not have the affluence of your family, I promise, you won't be marrying a pauper.”

You looked

“With something like this, I may as well be the richest woman in all of England,” you said.

His smile returned, his posture relaxing.

“I’m glad of it. Should we return to them now?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You got up by his side. You were not afraid of the hordes of things to do and people to meet, not overwhelmed.

“Yes...I’m ready, Thomas.”

[sgiandubh]

Chère Madame Connasse/ Dear Mrs. Fuckwit

First of all, please excuse the length of this answer (you have also been blocked, incidentally speaking). This deserves its own audio. In French, since the French connection is so fucking tenuous:

Here is the English translation, since I am pretty sure Madame Connasse does not speak any French:

'Dear Mrs. Fuckwit,

Oh, well - how may I put it? I also find interesting that such an idiot would lose her time sending such enormous things to a page she hates and which, in return, cordially tells her to go fuck herself.

I usually am entitled to some pretty mighty garbage, but you do have enough vocabulary as to use words like 'hubristic' and 'vortex'. That makes you, by the way, very vulnerable and also more exposed than Uganda's current budget.

But why not you, after all, like so many others? The more, the merrier and you do write, not without some chutzpah, that my French connection is tenuous, as is my legal expertise and that I make you laugh, along with all the rest of the shipper community. Which, to be honest, is as untrue as possible. But it must be such a pain in the ass for you to see that people read me, that people like what I write and that, who knows, all those people (of which there are many), have a better day, in this bizarre environment.

I have already shown you some pictures of myself, including at official events. It was not enough.

I have already shown you my car, my office, my desk and my diplomatic passport. It was not enough.

With just one click you could have checked all the (very transparent) clues I have patiently scattered in my posts, in order for you to find me. Some did. They know perfectly well that you lie and you know it, too.

So, here's the deal, you stupid bitch: your cackle will turn sour when you'll see this very official paper:

This is just one of my law degrees - my Public Law BA at the Paris II University, in June 2001, as you can see by yourself. I have worked so hard and so passionately to get it, that I don't give a flying fuck about the fact that a nobody, and a coward to boot, doubts me. I have nothing to prove, nothing to demonstrate and I owe you nothing. However, sometimes one must set the record straight and I am a very impulsive person, after all.

I shall spare you all the rest, dear Mrs. Fuckwit. There is much more, but I am afraid your self esteem could never bear it. That being said, think twice, the next time you'd try to humiliate someone you do not know. Internet is so wonderfully sketchy that you never know (pinky promise: like never, ever know) to whom you're really talking. People lie very easily in here: I find this ridiculous and useless, in 2024, when one can find more or less everything about anyone. In no time at all, provided one knows exactly how to do it (between you and me, it's not even that complicated).

You and your posse of Pointless Underlings have insulted and intimidated dozens and dozens of people of our community, with an absolutely revolting ferocity. You have been doing it for years, with complete impunity and the strong belief that you were protected by a particularly perverted context, by some obscure agendas and by the indifference of the Two Main Characters. I am here to tell you I am not afraid and also that I couldn't care less about whatever you'd write or think. You will do it again, of course, because I think your obsessive universe is limited to the tiny window of your delusions.

But don't worry, dear Mrs. Fuckwit: until further notice, I shall make mine what a distant descendant of Irish Rebels, marshal of France Mac Mahon, said during the Crimea War - I am here and I am here to stay.

Also, you know: she who laughs last laughs the best.'

[sotwk]

The Best Gift (Legolas x unnamed OC)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

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[startaee]

not an equal.

reo x reader; reader wants to be independent, but reo doesn't see the point of it.

pt.2, a second chance

tws, overworking, slightly toxic relationship, power imbalance.

reblog if you like it!

plsplspls don't let this flop /open to constructive criticism,, just don't be rude!/ if this goes well, ill definitely post the comfort part !!

“reo you can’t be serious…” you sighed heavily, rubbing the temple of your head. “what, pookie? i missed ya’. and my schedule’s free for the day so-” his cocky smirk was wiped off when you slammed your laptop shut.

“well. news for you, but mine isn't.” you got up from your desk, walking towards him, each step you took, felt heavier.

you were tired. you’d been working for 7 hours straight. not by force, but by choice. there was a promotion coming up and your senior, (and mentor) had hinted that your name might be on the list. you wanted to give your best. which resulted in you overworking yourself for the past week. only ever taking a few breaks to nap and eat. this was only temporary, just till june ended, and you were finally given the higher salary, bigger office and more authority. just like you deserved. 

“woah, what’s up with the attitude?” reo furrowed his eyebrows, slightly raising his hands as a form of defencelessness (?). 

“this is the third time you’ve shown up to my office, reo. and it’s the last time, i tell you to never. ever. do it again.” you said, your eyes bloodshot due to the lack of sleep and the anger you felt at this moment. sure, he missed you. you missed him too, but this promotion was something you’d dreamed of for years now. you were so close and wanted to make sure everything was perfect. however, your boyfriend showing up to work three times in the same week wasn’t going to impress your higher-ups.

“hey, don’t snap at me, alright? this is the most of you i’ve seen all week!” he raised his voice, pointing at you accusingly. that’s when it hit you. you were arguing with a man-child. no, it wasn’t funny anymore. he’d been served everything on a golden platter since the time he was born. sure, he works hard now, but he’d have never made it so far if it wasn’t for the fact that he was born into the right family. you took a deep breath, turning to face a wall, because you couldn’t stand to see him right now.

then you remembered, and you felt your anger rise back. “yeah, well, what about the times you went to the US for up to two weeks?” your head snapped back to him, watching his face turn into an amused one as he scoffed. “y/n. sweetie, that’s different.” he smiled, a hand reaching out to cup your face. despite how gentle this must have seemed to the audience peeking into your office from outside, to you, it felt cruel. cruel, humiliating, and offending. feeling tears well up in your eyes once you realized how he saw you, you shut them. your friends, your family, everyone was right.

reo mikage was not on your level. he would never be. and most importantly, he’d never see you, the same way you see him.

“how…” you mumbled. “how…is it different…?” you knew the answer. but you wanted to hear it. just to be sure. 

“darling, c’mon. don’t be like that. you know, my work is, y’know? actually important…” he smiled at you as you blinked your eyes open, biting your lip and nodding. tears slipped down your face, and as his thumb immediately reached out to wipe them, you took a step back. 

“and mine isn’t.” you stated, wanting to laugh at yourself for even telling your friends that your boyfriend, respected you and saw you as an equal. 

“oh, don’t cry, y/n. want me to talk to your boss? i could make things much easier if ya let me.” he raised his eyebrows, sending you his signature smile as he walked closer to you.

your face felt cold. you felt tired and betrayed and sleepy and pathetic. “reo?” you said, turning your back to him as you made your way back to your desk. wiping your own tears, you made a decision. a decision that you wouldn’t regret, but would certainly make him think about his actions for months. 

“we should break up.”

[junethestudent]

Hlo~ Mercy

May I request

GP Dreamcatcher reaction to their gf wanting to have sex for the 3rd time in a day? Like them whining and whimpering complaining that their needy?

June Note: Hi okay I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me to write for Dreamcatcher!

ALSO- I apologize for taking so long to respond, I’ve been very busy at work.

AND WE HIT 100 FOLLOWERS YAY! I LOVE YOU SWEETHEARTS!

JiU

JiU comes off as caring and considerate but she definitely wouldn’t hesitate to fuck up your hole for the third time-

I feel as if she would ask embarrassing questions and whisper sweet nothings in your ear to get a rise out of you..

“Are you really sure you want me to pound your pussy again?”

“If it’s what you want then of course baby.”

JiU would take it slow as your bodies get back into the rhythm of it, constantly checking on your wellbeing. But as the pace quickens you would be fucking like horny animals..

SuA

SuA would make you beg for her while she degrades you for being such a horny slut.

“All you’re good for is fucking y’know? Such a worthless slut like you.. of course you want my cock again. Needy whore~”

She would cock her head back and moan as you clench against her length, her hands rubbing the small of your back.

“Are you getting all tight around mommy’s dick? Do you want mommy to paint your pussy white?”

Siyeon

Similar to SuA, Siyeon is dominant and rough. The difference is that she praises you instead of degrading you.

“You want me again? You’re so sweet to me baby, you wanna please my cock for the third time?”

As she pounds into you she runs her fingers through your hair and tucks her head into your neck.

“Tell me where it feels the best. It must be here because every time my tip hits you twitch.. should I stop?”

She definitely teases you during sex-

She holds the back of your neck down and pulls her drenched cock out, slapping the head against your swollen clit.

Handong

Handong is more considerate and would easy-going about it, responding positively. Her main goal is pleasing you, although she is excited that your pussy is wrapped around her cock again.

“Tell me what feels best for you.. ‘wanna make you feel good,” she’d whisper in your ear while slowly entering you.

She is shy switch in my opinion. Although she is mainly dominant as it is her main goal to fulfill all of your needs.

Every time you touch her she moans and buries her cock deeper inside you until her balls are squished against your ass.

“Am I doing okay? Is it good?”

She’d sound so desperate too.

Yoohyeon

Shy bottom. I’m not debating, I am saying. But Yooh could switch if you asked her to.

“You mean like.. you want it inside you again? My cock?”

She would do that nervous chuckle she always does, and twiddle her fingers around all anxious to touch you.

But her cock would still be hard from last time and she needed you so bad, so she was happy you wanted her inside you again.

She would bury her face in your breasts as she slowly inserted her cock, moaning at your wetness and the way you teased her. Blowing cold air in her ear and telling her she was just a “horny puppy.”

Dami

That smirk that she always does- ugh. She would grab your hips and pull you closer to her.

Mating press. Mating press. Mating press.

Her hands pressing your thighs further into your chest as she breeds you with no hesitation.

“Little whore wants it for the third time? How much cock are you gonna beg for?”

And the way she sticks her tongue out- ooh. Her balls would get all tight as she uses you like a fleshlight. She would wipe the sweat off her face and brush her hair back with her hand, all while laughing at your desperate expression.

“Mhm.. take my cock pretty slut. ‘Gunna make me blow my load in you.”

Dami would have her eyes rolled back as she comes, her deep moans echoing throughout the room as she slaps her cock against your slit, spraying her seed everywhere.

Gahyeon

She wouldn’t know what to do, a nervous mess as you seduce her. She would be all giddy and puppyish.

But she would still smile all innocently as she fucked you. She would make comments that came off teasingly but she was just being genuine.

“You’re still so wet even after the first two times.. mngh- you feel good!”

And she’s so sweet that she’d ask for your permission to come inside. She’s so desperate to fill you up.

“Is it okay to come now? I feel all tingly..”

June Note: If it wasn’t obvious I really love Dami’s energy. But I’m OT7!

Also I really like balls. On a girl of course.. not a man. Girl penis domination.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info and lyrics for the songs under the cut!

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3

🫶🫶🫶

The Other Side Of The Door lyrics

In the heat of the fight I walked away

Ignorin' words that you were sayin'

Tryna make me stay

I said, "This time I've had enough"

And you've called a hundred times

But I'm not picking up

'Cause I'm so mad I might tell you that it's over

But if you look a little closer

I said, "Leave," but all I really want is you

To stand outside my window throwin' pebbles

Screamin', "I'm in love with you"

Wait there in the pourin' rain, comin' back for more

And don't you leave 'cause I know

All I need is on the other side of the door

Me and my stupid pride are sittin' here alone

Goin' through the photographs, starin' at the phone

I keep goin' back over things we both said

And I remember the slamming door

And all the things that I misread

Oh, babe, if you know everything

Tell me why you couldn't see

When I left, I wanted you to chase after me, yeah

I said, "Leave," but all I really want is you

To stand outside my window throwin' pebbles

Screamin', "I'm in love with you"

Wait there in the pourin' rain, comin' back for more

And don't you leave 'cause I know

All I need is on the other side of the door

And I'll scream out the window

I can't even look at you

I don't need you but I do, I do, I do

I say, "There's nothing you can say

To make this right again, I mean it, I mean it"

But what I mean is

I said, "Leave," but, baby, all I want is you

To stand outside my window throwin' pebbles

Screamin', "I'm in love with you"

Wait there in the pourin' rain, comin' back for more

And don't you leave 'cause I know

All I need is on the other side of the door

With your face and the beautiful eyes

And the conversation with the little white lies

And the faded picture of a beautiful night

You carried me from your car up the stairs

And I broke down crying, was she worth this mess?

After everything and that little black dress

After everything I must confess, I need you

🫶🫶🫶

You All Over Me lyrics

[Taylor Swift:]

Once the last drop of rain has dried off the pavement

Shouldn't I find a stain, but I never do

The way the tires turn stones, on old county roads

They leave 'em muddy underneath

Reminds me of you

You find graffiti on the walls of old bathroom stalls

You know, you can scratch it right off

It's how it used to be

But like the dollar in your pocket it's been spent and traded in

You can't change where it's been

Reminds me of me

[Taylor Swift and Maren Morris:]

I lived, and I learned

Had you, got burned

Held out, and held on

God knows, too long

And wasted time, lost tears

Swore that I'd get out of here

But no amount of freedom gets you clean

I've still got you all over me

The best and worst day of June

Was the one that I met you

With your hands in your pockets

And your "Don't you wish you had me?" grin

Well, I did, so I smiled, and I melted like a child

Now every breath of air I breathe reminds me of then

And I lived, and I learned

Had you, got burned

Held out, and held on

God knows, too long

And wasted time, lost tears

Swore that I'd get out of here

But no amount of freedom gets you clean

I've still got you all over me

I lived, and I learned

And found out what it was to turn around

And see, that we

Were never really meant to be

So I lied, and I cried

And I watched a part of myself die

'Cause no amount of freedom gets you clean

I've still got you all over me

I've still got you all over me

Still got you all over me

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of cheating and physical abuse( by Theo), mentions of kidnapping, (let me know if I missed any

Wc: 6.6K

series masterlist

Chapter 6: Test Run

“You have to make sure the till is always at two hundred dollars at the end of the night. I left the spare key in the desk for you to lock up.” You ramble off looking at your fingers to make sure you don’t forget something. “Make sure the alarm is set before you leave too.” Rafe’s hands grab your shoulder pointing you to the front door of the shop. “Babe, I think she’s got everything. Plus she’s been working here for a month now so I think she knows what to do.” Rafe’s right she does know.

Wheezie has been working at the shop for a month now. She started on the last day Rafe had off. It was funny seeing the two siblings work together in such a small store. To be honest it was a good suggestion from Rafe. Unbeknownst to you he had talked to every charity that he knew of telling them to get flowers from you. Business has been taking off and you really needed the help now. Plus she’s a sweet girl and was in need of money.

Over the weeks the two of you had gotten closer. She would go to your daily lunches with the three of you. Sometimes she would go over to the house and have dinner with you, Jo and June when Rafe was busy or joined you. It was nice seeing how she warmed up to you and was comfortable sharing things with you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You look up at the young girls as she plays with some baby’s breath. “Of course I do.” Silently she places it back on the table and jumps to sit on it. “Then why hasn’t a boy asked me out?” Pushing the vase away from you, you lean against the table to look at her. “I think that’s because boys are stupid. Is there a certain boy?”

She blushes and puts her hair behind her ears. “His name is Max. He’s so cute and I have English with him. Sometimes all he can do is talk to me but then he acts like I don’t exist.” Taking a deep breath you look at her. Just by the look on your face she can tell that you feel bad for her. You're chewing on your bottom lip thinking of what to say. “Sometimes boys think it’s fun to play with your emotions. They want to feel control over you so they play mind tricks. If he can’t be bothered to talk to you 100% of the time then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Wheezie looks you in the eyes, giving you a light smile. “You’re really good at this. Vi is very lucky to have you, so is Rafe.” You go and give her a hug, squeezing her tight. “You have me too.”

Connecting with Rafe’s family has actually been nice and somewhat healing. You know that his relationship with his family is still rocky. He’s been trying hard to show them he’s changed and so far it seems to be going well. Seeing that his family still cares about him after the things he’s done is refreshing to see. You wish your parents would have been as forgiving. 

Rafe had told you about his drug addiction but how he was already one year clean. You felt sympathetic when he told you, knowing that it must have been weighing down on him. “I get it if you want to break up.” You had just looked at him and leaned in to peck his lips. “I’m proud of you for getting clean. That must have been difficult to do.” You had shocked him that night, accepting him and his life for what they were. 

“Come on, we got to go.” Rafe’s voice pulls you back to reality. You give one last glance to the shop, waving to Wheezie as you walk out the door. Silently you and Rafe walk to the car not knowing what to say. Today’s the first case hearing and you are scared of how it’s going to go.

The past month has been a back and forth battle between Diane and Theo’s lawyer. Theo keeps stating that he was never aware of Violet and that you withheld her from him. Your refute with saying he was notified when you found out and then ran off without another word. It became a he said she said and no progress was being made. The month was completely stressful and Rafe felt like there was nothing he could do.

Getting to the courthouse, Rafe parks the truck, getting out of the car to help you out. Theo and Delia are already there with their lawyer. They watch as you and Rafe make your way to Diane and greet her. “Remember this is just a preliminary hearing. The judge is hearing both sides and deciding on what to do.” You nod at her words, not really feeling any better. 

The bailiff stands in the middle of the courtroom. “All rise for Judge Argent.” The judge walks in and sits in his chair, grabbing his gavel and slamming it down. “Court is now in session. We are here to today to listen to case #81493. The immediate full custody of Violet Dunn to Mister Wixx. I also see that there is an appeal from the mother as well.” The judge pulls his glasses down looking at both tables. 

Theo’s judge stands up, grabbing a folder and walking to hand it to him. “Yes, your honor. My client has not been able to see his child for two years due to the defendant not allowing it. She also withheld the information of him being a father. If my client had known sooner he would have taken action.”

Judge Argent looks at the lawyer with a neutral expression before looking back at the documents handed to him. “Furthermore my client has been under a lot of distress with this revelation. He had fallen into severe depression from missing out on Violet's life.” The judge closes the file and stares at Theo’s lawyer. “Any documentation of diagnosis or treatment.” The lawyer falters for a second casting a sideways glance towards his client. “Mister Wixx decided to take a no treatment route. It goes against his values.”

It was a nice save but the judge doesn’t seem to buy it. He goes to speak again but the judge raises a hand. Judge Argent looks at Diane and nods his head. She gets up and bows slightly to him. “Your honor.” She greets as she goes to hand him her folder. “My client's appeal is that she had in fact notified the plaintiff of the fact she was pregnant and he was a father. She is also claiming that the plaintiff was abusive during the relationship and believes he wouldn’t be the best fit for Violet.”

Theo’s lawyer stands throwing a hand towards the judge and moving to point at Diane. “Objection that is slander. There is no proof of these accusations.” The judge looks through the documents and looks at him. “Overruled. Continue Mrs. Simmons.” Diane looks at the other lawyer and smiles. “As you can see in the folder, there is documentation of the abuse Miss. Dunn had to face.”

“Those could be fabricated.” The lawyer shouts. “Mr. Campbell I will not tolerate your interruptions every five minutes.” The man’s face turns red. Maybe it’s from anger but you think it’s from embarrassment. “Mr. Wixx.” Theo straightens up and looks at the judge. “Yes sir. I mean your honor.” 

“It seems like you forgot your daughter's middle name in your paperwork.” Theo looks at his lawyer as the man gives him an ‘I told you so’ look. “What is it?” Theo moves in his chair and Delia places a hand on his arm. “Baby just tell him.” She thinks she’s whispering but you could still hear her. Theo looks at her and then back at the judge. “Um, I don't know your honor. She wouldn’t even let me know even after I begged.”

Judge Argent sucks his teeth, his eyes darting to you before looking back. “Yet she told you her name?” Theo swallows the saliva that accumulated in his mouth. “Uh actually…” he coughs trying to stall time. “Yes?” With a sigh he speaks. “I found out from someone else. She’s completely shut me out.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. God can he get any more pathetic?

“Miss. Dunn, would you like to inform Mr. Wixx on Violet’s.” You look Theo in the eyes. “Ivey.” Theo just stares at you not knowing what to say. 

The judge puts away all of the papers and grabs his gavel. “I will look over the plaintiff’s and defendant’s documents. We will schedule a hearing two weeks from today. Court dismissed.” He slams the gavel and walks out. You and Rafe stand as Diane gathers her stuff and tries to usher you out. Before the three of you could even reach the door a voice called out.

“Abuse? Are you kidding me?” Theo comes rushing towards you, his face is beet red. Behind him is Delia and his lawyer rushing to stop him. “I advise you not to do this. There are still eyes watching.” Mr. Campbell whispers to his client to diffuse the situation. Your eyes locked with Theo’s. He straightens up, brushing the lawyer off of him.

“If you want to spread lies then go for it. You aren’t so miss perfect right?” He grabs Delia’s hand and storms out. Mr. Campbell scrambles along following the couple. “If he contacts you, send me everything. For now just keep doing what you're doing.” Diane walks out the courtroom promising to contact you in a few days to check up.

Rafe guided you to the truck and drove the two of you back to your house. He’s been staying there most days of the week and sometimes you stay at his. It felt like your lives were melding perfectly together. 

Vi runs up to the two of you,  squealing as she attacks Rafe’s legs. He picks her up, flipping her so she's upside down. “Already starting trouble? I guess the tickle monster is going to get ya.” He shakes her a bit before running to the couch to throw her on it. Walking behind them you hear her giggles. “Stop.” Vi laughs out as she tries to escape. 

“How’d it go?” Jo walks up to you, wrapping her arms around you. “Good, I think. We have another hearing in two weeks.” She brings you to the kitchen as Rafe and Violet play in her tent castle. “I’m going to need a little more than that.” She makes the two of you tea as you explain what happened. There were a few times where she wanted to go beat his ass but you calmed her down.

“Is his life so miserable that he had to come back to ruin yours?” She places your ug in front of you. “I swear he’s lucky I haven’t seen him yet.” You swallow the green tea looking at her as you think of what to say. “It’s not like he actually has a case, right? He was never in her life and doesn’t even know her.” Jo walks around the corner of the island. “Are you kidding me? The judge would have to be crazy if he gave​​ Theo a chance.”

She’s right. There’s no way that he would get custody of her. The rest of the night was slow. Wheezie had come over after work to drop off the keys, bringing along a large box of Pizza. “What’s this?” You laugh as you open the door. “Consider it my thank you for the job. But more importantly I was just hungry and thought I would help you out.” She didn’t stay too long, wanting to go out with some friends.

After putting Vi to bed you and Rafe lay in the backyard looking at the stars. “Give me a fact, space boy.” Rafe laughs at the nickname you gave him. “Stars don’t actually twinkle. It’s just how the light is deflected that makes it look like that.” His hand rubs your arm. You snuggle into him. “So Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a lie?”

He chuckles a bit, you feel the vibrations in his chest. “Basically.” “Tell me another one.” Rafe lifts his head to look at you. Your fingers are picking at his shirt not meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He watches as your fingers twitch before resting in the middle of his chest. “I’m fine.” He sits up forcing you to as well. “Is this about him saying you aren’t perfect?”

You sigh, pushing your hand to the grass so you can stand up. Rafe’s hand reaches up and stops you. “Come on, you can tell me anything.” He pulls you down so you are straddling his lap. “It’s stupid.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Come one baby.” The intense blue of his eyes seem so bright even in the dark. “It’s just that I used to party a lot when I was younger to piss him off. I’m scared he would use that against me or something.” Rafe’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you tight to him. “You were young and wanted to have fun. What matters is who you are now.”

“I know, but I’m just scared.” His hand cups your face to force you to meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for being a normal teen. It’ll be okay.” You shyly smile as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You know I really like you, space boy.” He smiles at you, stealing a kiss. “I really like you too, flower girl.” You giggle stealing another kiss before getting up. 

“Race ya to the room. Winner gets to do whatever they want.” Rafe’s ears perk up, he stands up taking a step forward. “Anything?” You shrug taking a step back. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” 

✦✦✦✦✦✦

The bell attached to the front door alerts you that someone came into the shop. “I’ll be with you in one second.” You shout through the doors from the back. Wheezie had gone to the handy store to buy a new pair of sheers and took Vi along with her. It was only you in the shop so you have to do orders and help customers at the same time. “Just me flower girl.” You smile as you turn to watch Rafe walk into the back. “Where’s thing 1 and thing 2?” 

He places a bundle of flowers on the table next to you, caging you I with his arms. “They went to the store a street over to get something.” He smirks down at you, closing the gap to connect your lips. The two of you kiss, each movement of his lips seemingly melts your mind.

Your phone vibrates behind you, dancing along the table. “I should probably get that.” Rafe’s lips just meet yours again. “Let it ring.” He mumbles on your lips. The phone stops ringing so it seems like it wasn’t that important. His hands find your hips, lifting you to place you on the table. He sneaks himself in between your legs as he moves his kisses to your neck.

“They could be back any second.” Rafe just shrugs, pulling back to look at you. “Good thing you got that bell.” His lips go back to yours and you don’t seem to care anymore. Then the phone rings again. Fumbling around you reach for it to pick it up. Pulling away you both groaned at seeing it was Wheezie calling. Mood officially killed. You answer the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hey wheeze what’s up?” Rafe plays with the ends of your hair as he waits for you to hang up. If his sister is calling it’s because she can’t find what she needs. He just needs to wait until you hang up and he can get back to his previous task. You straighten, pushing Rafe away from you. 

“What are you talking about? Is she okay? Where are you?” You’re panicking trying to scramble to get your keys and bag from your office. Rafe follows behind asking you what’s wrong but isn’t met with anything. You are out the door before he can even stop you. He catches up and stops you.“What’s going on?” Rafe forces you to look at him and he wishes he didn’t. The look of terror on your face is nerve racking. “She had lost Vi in the store and som-“ You choke on a sob as you try to calm yourself down. “Someone was trying to take her.” Rafe grabs your hand speed walking in the direction you were going.

Rafe can’t imagine the way you are feeling right now. If he was internally freaking out he can’t begin to think of how you are dealing with this. You turned down a street pulling him along with you. There is a cop car parked on the side of the road. With one officer talking to a woman as another is with Wheezie and Vi. Wheezie looks up to see you and stands up, holding Vi’s hand to walk to you. “I”m so sorry. I was comparing prices and then she was gone.” You don’t say anything just dropping down to the floor to hug Vi. You squeeze her tightly crying into her tiny shoulder. She’s safe in front of you but your brain still believes she’s in danger. 

“I swear I was paying attention. I looked away for two seconds. I’m sorry.” Wheezie cries to her older brother. Rafe wraps his arms around her to give her a hug. He washes as you stand up holding Vi and turn towards them. Him and Wheeze are expecting you to be mad at her.

But all you did was walk over to them and drag her into a hug. “You’re okay right?” The teen girl wants to tell you yes but that would be a lie. She breaks down in your arms , tears staining your shirt. “I'm sorry.” She chokes out as she holds onto you for dear life. You shush her as you rub her back. “You didn’t do anything. Everything is okay.”

You are trying to convince all of you that everything is okay. But deep down this is one of the scariest things you’ve experienced. “Are you the child's mother?” You turn to look at the officer standing behind you. “I am.” “Would you mind going to the side with me to discuss what happened?” You nod your head. As much as you don’t want to leave Vi, you also don’t want her involved in this even more. You go to hand Vi over to Rafe. “Wait, do you know that young girl?” You look at the officer who is pointing to Wheezie. 

“Yes I do. She’s my boyfriend's sister.” The officer nods over to the side and you both walk a little bit away. He whips out a notepad to write some things down. “So the teen girl who was with Violet is your boyfriend's sister.” You nod your head agreeing with him as if you didn’t just state that. “How long have you known her?” You think for a second. “I’ve known her for four months and she works with me at my flower shop. She’s always around Violet.” The officer… you look at his badge, officer Kent looks confused. He’s writing some things down, scratching his head before looking at you. “Okay well I suggest having her father meet them so that way we can avoid this mess next time.

It’s your turn to be confused. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? What does he have to do with this?” Officer Kent is looking at you like you have three heads. “Her stepmom happened to see Violet through the window and saw her with a stranger. She went in and grabbed her to get her away from the stranger.” Your blood is boiling. Leaning to the left you can clearly see Delia talking to the officer who was sitting with Wheezie. Standing straight again you look officer Kent in the eyes. “That is not her stepmother. She doesn’t even know my daughter.” He looks behind him and then tries to find what she said in the notepad.

“Well she said she was engaged to Violet's father.. Theo?” You sigh and shake your head. “Sadly he’s biologically her dad. He hasn’t been in her life since before she was born. Now he’s trying to get full custody. She’s met Vi once and that was for under five minutes.” The officer feels like he’s in a tough situation. On one hand he wants to help you out because he finds Delia crazy. On the other there isn’t much that he can do. “I still need to talk to the worker that was helping the girl out when it happened. But it seems like you have a good case for yourself. Let me go talk to the guy and I’ll find you after, but think about if you want to press charges.” You don’t know what to do. “Charges?” The officer places a hand on your bicep. 

“You could charge her with attempted kidnapping and child endangerment. Think it over and let me know what you want to do.” With that officer Kent walks to the front door of the handy store to meet his partner. You watch as they both walk in before walking back to Rafe. 

“I called Jo and she’s coming to get Vi. Is everything okay?” You nod and explain what the cop told you.  Rafe is fuming as he hears Delia’s side of the story. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” He looks down at Vi and apologizes to her. “Sorry sweet pea. Got a little carried away.” Vi looks unfazed by the cussing but yet again she seems to be unfazed about this whole thing. “Guys I promise I had eyes on her the whole time. I just looked away because I was asking the guy which one he thought was better. I was just trying to save you some money.” Wheeze nervously picks at her fingertips. You didn’t seem upset with her earlier but maybe that was the shock.

“Those split seconds are kids' perfect minutes to vanish.” She keeps her head down ready to be yelled at. “Next time just be more aware of your surroundings. I know you wouldn’t hurt her.” The young girl can’t help but to cry. She felt so close to losing everything.

Life hasn’t sucked as much since you came along. Rafe became the old him again which made her happy. She longed for him for so many years and now she has that back. Plus she’s never had a sister relationship like she has with you.

Yeah, she and Sarah are really close. They help each other out all the time and are best friends. But with you it’s different. It’s like your sister but she sees you as more. Maybe it’s because of your mother's instinct but she feels protected. After everything went down and she was holding Vi all she could think about is how much she fucked up. She knew that this could easily make you break up with Rafe and everything would be over. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” You go and hug her, looking at Rafe over her shoulder. You are both worried. “What’s wrong Wheeze?” He steps closer rubbing her shoulder. She sniffles and turns to look back at him. “I thought I messed everything up. I didn’t want to ruin everything for you.” Rafe’s eyes sink as he realizes that he was the cause of her distress. “You never have to worry about me Wheeze. Didn’t I pinky promise you that?” She giggles remembering his promise before she signed the adoption papers.

“I still do. I don’t want to destroy your progress.” Your eyebrows scrunch in at her words and Rafe’s movements freeze. You want to ask what she means but an annoying voice is talking behind you.

“Why was she with some stranger?” Theo is glaring at you as Delia stands next to him but slightly behind. “Because some lunatic tried to kidnap her.” Rafe responds watching in glee as their faces drop. Theo looks behind him sharply and Delia drops her head, staring at the floor. He looks back at you ignoring Rafe’s comment. 

“That tween is lucky it was just Dels and not some creep.” You laugh at his audacity. “Seems like those two go hand in hand. She didn't even know her and had the audacity to try to take her.” His face gets red but he still laughs. “Just wait until my lawyer hears about this. Great parenting Prim.” Wow he really doesn’t back down does he. “Theo, how stupid do you think a judge is? What are you going to tell the judge when I press charges?”

This seemed to knock some sense into both of them. Delia’s eyes snapped up. “Please don’t d-” “Delia!” Theo’s voice scared you for a second and you can tell it did the same to her. SHe backs away one more step. “It was a misunderstanding so good luck.” He swiftly turned around and grabbed her arm, dragging her away.

After Theo left the two officers came back out and found you. “Alright. The worker's story cooperates with your boyfriend's sister’s.” Officer Kent says to you. Nodding along your eyes to the other officer next to him. “So what does this mean?” Realistically you know that you can actually press chargers but you are confused as to what to do. “It means you can press charges if you really want.”

A car door slamming grabs your attention as you see Jo rushing towards you. Rafe squeezes your shoulder, giving the top of your head a kiss. “I’ll handle Jo.” Rafe meets Jo halfway explaining everything to her as he buckles Vi to her car seat.

“Do you know what you would like to do?” Your eyes go back to the officers in front of you. “If I press charges what would that do with our custody case?” They look at each other and then at you. Officer Kent scratches his head as he tries to figure out what to say. But for his benefit, his partner answers for him. “We really can’t tell you what would happen. It would be more in your favor than his based on what we know.” 

You nod still debating on what to do. You want to press charges but what if it goes nowhere? “If it was me I would press the charges.” Officer Kent wants to correct his partner but he has a point, you should. “When you got here your first thought was your daughter. Even though your boyfriend comforted his sister, his eyes never left the two of you. He seems to care about her but her father couldn’t be bothered to ask how she is.”

Tears well in your eyes at the confession. How is it that even a stranger can see how much Theo doesn’t care about her. “I want to press charges.” Your voice is small, feeling as if your life is taking the wrong turn. “How about you meet us at the station and we can go over everything there.” He looks over to where Rafe is entertaining Vi as he still talks to Jo. “Take a moment to calm down from the day. We will be there until six.”

The next hour is a blur. Jo had taken you all back to the shop so you could talk about everything. Wheezie insisted on still working to make up for her mistakes but you forced her to take the rest of the day off. You were going to close the shop anyway because there was no way you could keep working today. She played with Vi as you talked to Rafe and Jo. 

“She’s crazy. Who just takes a kid they don’t know?” Jo had some very vocal opinions on the two of them. “Good, press charges on her. Maybe this will be a slap of reality and they can fuck off to where they came from.” Very vocal

By the time the conversation was over it was around two in the afternoon. Rafe took you to the police station and waited as you went through all of the paperwork. By the time you were out the both of you were tired. On the way home you grabbed food and spent the night trying to unwind.

That’s how it's been for the past week and a half. Trying to unwind seemed pointless when you had a new hearing today. On top of that the case you have against Delia seems to be pulling teeth at this rate. Diane thinks it’s exactly what you need for the custody battle but only if the charges go through.

You woke up in the morning getting ready as you fight the anxiety that’s creeping in. Rafe had an early morning meeting so he’s planning on meeting you there. But based on him not answering when he supposed to be done means that’s not happening. As you were gathering your keys a knock on the door catches your attention. You walk over and open the door to see Sarah on the other end.

“Oh hey Sarah. What are you doing here?” You’ve hung out with Sarah a bit since the beach. But she’s busy with her friend and John B a lot. Seeing her show up unannounced is shocking.

“Um Rafe’s meeting is running later than he thought. I thought maybe I could help you out.” Your head tilts to the right as you look at her. “I could stay here and watch Vi so Jo can go with you as moral support. But I could also go with you if you want.”

She looks nervous even suggesting going with you. “I just don’t want you to be alone.” Her right fingers are squeezing her left ones, fingertips turning red for a split second. “Vi’s being really fussy today so Jo is going to stay with her.” Sarah’s blue eyes dart to the floor. 

“Oh yeah obviously. Sorry if this is weird.” She goes to turn but you stop her. “I wouldn’t mind some company though. I’m a bit nervous if I’m being honest.” Sarah smiles at you and extends a hand. “Well good thing you’ve got me.”

Your knee bounces as you wait for the judge to come. Diane is going over papers as you keep looking back to Sarah’s smiling face. On the right side Theo sits leaning back talking to Delia as if this is nothing. His carefree demeanor is scaring you even more.

What is he playing at?

Then in the blink of an eye his gaze flickers to you. A smirk is placed on his lips before he looks back at Delia. Oh he thinks he’s got this in the bag. “All rise for Judge Argent.” Just like that the world seems to slow down as you stand up and watch him walk out.

“Court is now in session. We are here to today to listen to case #81493.” He settles himself in his chair and hits his gavel. Looking between the two of you and the papers he sighs. “I’ve looked over the documents given to me. I want to give both sides a chance to tell me their stories themselves. Mr. Wixx please step into the witness box.”

Theo gets up straightening his tie giving you a wink as he sits down. “Please place your left hand on the bible. Do you swear the truth and nothing but the truth.” With his right hand raised Theo stares you in the eyes. “I do.” The court officer walks off to the side putting the book away as the judge turns his attention towards Theo. “Can you tell me about your relationship with Miss Dunn.”

“We knew each other our whole lives. Our parents were best friends so they forced us to be as well. Then as we got older it was us being a couple. I guess after so much pressure we just decided to do it and make them happy.” Judge Argent writes his response down. “At any point in the relationship were you involved with anyone else.” Theo almost scoffs, forgetting the facade he needs to keep up. “Never. At some point things became real for me and I fell for her.”

Your nose scrunches. He sounds like a completely different person then the one you knew. Who is this guy? “So you never once laid a hand on Miss Dunn in any instance, correct?” Theo’s right eye twitches. “I would never hurt her. I still wouldn’t, I just want to see my daughter.” He’s good. For a second he really had you fooled. Wanting to see his daughter is laughable. Especially when he never once tried to see her or ask about her. “She would create these crazy fights. Yelling and throwing things around because of a rumor she heard. After graduation I guess I was having enough and broke things off.” 

Judge Argent nods his head. “Have you ever had contact with Miss Dunn or your daughter since then?” He looks down. “I didn’t know I had a daughter until my parents told me after her birth. I tried to visit her in the hospital but she refused to see me and had them tell me she doesn’t want me a part of Violet’s life.” Wow he really has the sob story down packed. 

 “Do you have an explanation for the reason your fiance…” He ruffles through some papers, adjusting his glasses. “Miss Delia McLane taking Violet from a babysitter the other week” Theo flickers his gaze to his lawyer and back to the judge. “Delia thought Violet was with a stranger. She got scared that someone took her and tried to protect Violet.” The Judge leans on his forearms getting closer to Theo. “Isn’t that ironic. You may go back to your seat.” 

“Miss Dunn, please take the witness.” You go up and swear to tell the truth. Only this time you know it’s the truth being told. “Miss Dunn, could you please tell me about your relationship with Mr. Wixx.” You clear your throat. “We grew up together because our parents were best friends. Around freshman year of high school our parents were pushing us to be together so we did. At first it was fine, we thought it would blow over so we did couple things.” Judge Argent asks you to clarify. “We went on dates and had dinners with our parents. After it didn’t die down we gave in and actually just became a couple for their sake. A couple months later I found him making out with one of the cheerleaders at school. I forgave him and then a couple weeks later I was being told he was seeing someone else.” 

You take a deep breath. “It was a constant cycle of me forgiving him just to find out later he did it again. Every time we would fight about it and each fight just kept getting worse. At one point he had enough and started hitting me.” From the corner of your eye you can see Theo glaring at you. Behind him Delia looks horrified, but not because of what you went through. Bo because she doesn’t understand how you could create such a vile lie.

“I just let it happen because my parents didn’t believe me. I felt like no one else would so I stayed. Then when I found out I was pregnant I knew something had to change. I confronted him and told him he needed to be better for the baby.” You look him in the eyes, not letting him escape from what he did. “All he did was tell me I should just go kill it because he wouldn’t be a father. I told him I wasn’t doing that and he left. The next day he completely disappeared, leaving me a note telling me good luck being a single mother.”

The court room is silent for a moment, your words sinking in. “Has he ever had contact with you or Violet?” You shake your head. “No.He’s never once reached out.” You look at Diane who is smiling at you. “What happened with Violet the other week from your point of view.” You settle your emotions as you try to push memories to the back of your mind. “Violet and my boyfriend's little sister, Wheezie, went to the handy store for sheers. Wheezie works for me at the flower shop and wanted to give me a break. Then she’s calling me to tell me someone tried to take Vi when they were in the store. When I got there they were both okay but Delia, Theo’s fiance, was the one who tried to take her.”

Judge argent writes down some notes about what you said and dismisses you back to your seat. You ring your hands as you wait for what he’s about to say. “After hearing both sides I have come to a conclusion. Mr. Wixx I’m choosing to believe that you do want to get to know your daughter.” He stalls for a moment. “I decided that for a trial period you get visitation rights. A child’s service worker will handle the visitations but Miss Dunn you can be present if you choose so.”

You look over at Diane, this isn’t what you want. You don’t want him to be anywhere near Vi. “Your honor.” Diane tries to get in but he raises a hand. “I will not be talked out of the trial period. We will have hearings as well. After the trial period, only after, will I make a final decision.” Five months. He gave Theo five months worth of visitations to be near your daughter. At least he did one good thing. “Let it be known that Miss McLane will not be present in any visitations.”

Theo’s lawyer tried to protest stating that she will be Violet’s step-mom. The judge just reminded him that she also tried to kidnap said child and that made him shut up. The only good thing about this hearing is the fact that she won’t be near her. 

You and Sarah exit the court house trying to get to her car and leave. You are pulling your phone out to call Rafe when footsteps can be heard coming up to you. “So glad the judge could see through you. In no time I’ll have Violet.” This habit of his needs to stop, he won't get to you. “If you believe that’s true then good luck.” He’s left eye twitches, he wants you to fight him back. Delia places a hand on his arm but he shakes her off.

Looks like old habits die hard.

“Where’s that little boyfriend of yours? Bet he realized you aren’t worth it.” Sarah is ready to chew him out but she didn’t get the chance. “He’s right here.” looking to your right you see Rafe walking up to you. He gives Sarah a side hug before hugging you tight, giving you a kiss on the head. “Thanks Sar. Sorry the meeting ran late.” You just shake your head. “It’s all okay. You’re here now.” 

Rafe glances at Theo. “Come on. Let’s go get some food.” The three of you walk off leaving Theo and Delia behind. As you get closer to the car you look back to see him walking ahead of Delia. Looks like she’s trying to get his attention as he storms off. You may not know how he is as a person now but you do know one thing.

There’s no way in hell he’s getting your daughter.

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[danikamariewrites]

Yay! So happy you’ll write for them! I have an Aidas request.The reader is Bryce’s friends and meets him through her. They are immediately drawn to each other and grow really close. The war is over and he has to go back to Hel. They are trying to figure out how they can still be together. It can be angsty/fluffy/smutty. Lol just whatever you are feeling.

Honestly I’d be happy with anything to do with him. 😂

Hel is Heaven With You

Aidas x reader

A/n: Hi anon, I love this idea and I think of Aidas and his love interest as Hades and Persephone. I might do another part for this if I can think of another story for these guys.

Warnings: none

With the Asteri gone and the war won all that was left to do was send the armies of darkness and nightmarish creatures back to Hel. Once the fighting was over Aidas had given you a choice. Come to Hel with him or stay with your friends.

The first time you met the Prince of Hel was in Bryce’s apartment. His clear blue eyes had captivated you, charming and flirting with you as he danced around giving Hunt and Bryce answers. You felt drawn to the prince since then. Every night you saw him in your dreams. He seemed so real, there were times when you would wake up and swore Aidas was in a dark corner of your room.

When the attack during the spring happened Aidas had checked on you, making sure you were safe. He got into the habit of staying with you for days at a time and eventually you fell for each other. Confessing your feelings was hard. With the both of you being from different worlds you didn’t know how a relationship would work.

It’s been two days since Aidas gave you the choice to come with him. You had spent your time weighing the pros and cons of the situation. You must admit it was enticing, the thought of going with him to Hel. You would miss your friends but Aidas had promised you could see them whenever you wished. Besides them there wasn’t much keeping you on Midgard. Your brother and parents, being the snobby fae they were, cut you off when you stood by Bryce’s side after Danika’s death.

It wasn’t a hard decision after all. Trudging through the harsh snow in Nena with the army of Hel you had your bag slung over your shoulder. You hadn’t told Aidas what you decided yet, deciding to second guess yourself on the trip back to the Northern Rift. But you had said your goodbyes. A lot were tearful, especially June. You swear Fury shed a tear, though she denied it.

You had waited to say bye to Bryce at the rift, not wanting to feel the pain for two goodbyes with your best friend.

As the army filed through the rift back to Hel you said your goodbyes to her and Hunt, promising to visit. When Aidas was the only one left you finally faced him. “Well?” He asked, raising a perfectly groomed blonde brow at you. You held out your hand for his in answer.

Aidas seemed shocked as he took it, smiling down at you. As he pulled you towards your future together Bryce called out, “Wait!” You and Aidas turn to face her. “Promise me something Aidas. Promise me you’ll take care of her.” Aidas bowed his head at the fae queen. “I swear on my life, Bryce Quinlan, that y/n will never have a need or want that isn’t met.” Aidas raises your gloved hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the outline of your knuckles.

Bryce nods, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smirk as she says, “I’ll come kick your ass if I find out otherwise.” Stepping through the rift you both look at Bryce and Hunt one last time. “I’m counting on it.” The Prince replies before Bryce seals the rift.

——

Hel is not like you thought it would be. Bryce had told you what it was like after the Caves. But this was different.

Aidas’s kingdom was always in a state of dusk and darkness. His castle wasn’t what you thought either. You expected a fairytale version of a gothic castle with tall black spires, all open air windows and breezeways, floating on a ripped piece of earth among the clouds.

It was nothing like that at all. His home was more of an estate, surrounded by a tall, black wrought iron fence, the grounds covered in hedges and stone statues of his and his brother’s creations. The three story manor itself was black, gray stone moldings decorating the peaks and windows.

The interior was just as hauntingly beautiful as the exterior. Black, white, and red were the main colors decorating the house. Thick velvet curtains guarded the windows. Intricately carved wood made up the walls and bannisters, making the home feel alive. Pulling off your gloves you ran your hands across the ridges.

Aidas slipped your bag from your shoulder, waving his hand it disappeared into thin air. Aidas stepped closer to you, gazing into your eyes as he peels off your layers of winter wear. Handing over your stuff to a butler you didn’t even see approach.

“Come, my heart. I want to show you your new home.” You smile up at him, twining your fingers together again as he leads you through the house.

Aidas left you to get aquanted in your new room, which happened to be his room. You spent your time unpack what little you brought with you, finding Aidas left you plenty of room. He had a new dresser built for you along with a matching vanity. The prince also split his closet in half. When he told you that you were confused as to when you would fill it, is there even a mall on this plane of existence?

Finally curious about how much space you have to fill you pull open the ornate, wooden double doors. As the First Light comes on you gasp. You didn't need to fill the closet, it was already filled for you. Gowns and dresses on velvet hangers, shoes and slippers across racks, along with your clothes from home all neatly folded on the shelves above them.

You gape at the expensive fabrics, running your fingers across the garments in wonder. Knowing Aidas went out of his way to make sure you were clothed and well looked after had tears pricking your eyes.

No one had ever cared for you the way Aidas did. Not even your parents had paid this much attention to you.

Blinking away your impending tears, Aidas clears his throat behind you. Turning, you find the Prince of the Chasm casually draped against the door frame. “Is everything to your liking, my heart?” You smile brightly at him. “It’s perfect. And it’s more than I could ever ask for, thank you, Aidas.”

Aidas pushed off the door frame, striding over to you. The prince towers over you as he looks down at you. Bringing his pale, slender hands up to hold your face Aidas presses a kiss to your forehead. “I told you, my heart, you will never have to want again.”

[staawberru]

my childhood friend wrote a gay omegaverse faction about me! chapter 5

An what do y’all think of all the pov changes? Do u like them or would you like on your pov?

chapter one | next chapter | last chapter | masterlist

 ??? Pov 

  I am so excited to surprise them. I mean why wouldn’t I? I’ve been gone for three months and I’m finally coming home. Of course I didn’t tell anyone, I wanted it to be a surprise! And it will be, but I don’t want to come home empty handed, so I’m going to get a celebratory cake, cookie cake, of course, it’s the best flavor. I finally roll up to the grocery store and an obnoxious sign greets me. I find a suitable parking spot and get up, grabbing my purse. When I finally got in the store, I headed straight to the bakery section after grabbing a basket to carry the cake, picking the cheapest one. I'm a broke college student, no way I can afford a big ass cake. I picked out a simple cookie cake with the words “happy birthday” even though it was no one’s birthday. What can I say? I’m just cool like that.

   With the fact that it’s 14 bucks, an absolute steal, and that I had saved 35 bucks for this, I have 21 dollars left. I could probably get some soda and one other thing if I wanted, but what? Jobie liked Monster (edgy bastard) and my parents liked anything alcoholic, so I get Dr Pepper, the best soda. It’s on the highest shelf, which was a problem, and I was about to just give up, but I saw a taller guy just loitering. He wore dark baggy jeans and had a band tshirt. He was drinking beer that looked like he just pulled it from the shelf. He looked mean but I decided, instead of being a pussy like normal, I was going to man up and ask him to help.

   “Hey uh-“ 

    “Yes, I’m over the age of 21, yes I’m going to pay for this, yes I understand I can’t just grab things off the shelf.” before I got a sentence in he started to answer my hypothetical question. He probably had to say this a lot of time to have it memorized like this.

   “Oh, no, I don’t care what you’re doing,” I say. This seemed to make him give me another glance. “I was wondering if you could help me reach that bottle?” I pointed towards the Dr Pepper. 

  “So you're not a store manager?” He asked, still suspicious.

  “No, no, I just need that bottle.” He still looked unconvinced but held the soda out for me. 

   “Thank you!” I smile gratefully. It was 7 dollars which left 14 bucks for myself, or maybe I can pay for the guy's beer. He did help me after all, and he barely looked over the age of 18. Is it illegal to give minors alcohol? Maybe, but I’ve been itching to do something bad so I can tell off my friends for making fun of me for being a goodie two shoes. I mean, I have to be good for my parents. It’s probably bad to brag I gave a child alcohol, but whatever. 

   “Hey, you don’t look a day over 18,” I  comment casually, heart beating. I’m so dangerous. He looked backed and smiled sheepishly. He probably thought it was going to tell, but I was cooler than that. I swear. 

   “Do you want me to buy it?” I ask. His face lightens immediately. 

   “Free beer, I'd be an idiot to decline that,” he smirked and started to follow me like a puppy.

   “Sooo,” I stretch the o's, hoping to break the slightly awkward silence. I hoped he would talk more, but he doesn’t react at all to my words.  

   “Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask.

   “What are you, my mom?” he rolled his eyes.

   “Ah, sorry, too personal!”

   “I have a boyfriend,” he said. “His name is Jobie, I don’t think he likes me.” That made me pause. Is he dating my brother? Why haven’t I heard anything about this? I mean, there’s a chance there’s another Jobie, but when was the last time you met someone named Jobie? 

   “You know, you two look a lot alike, you and my boyfriend, I mean,” he said. I reached the cash register and put my items down.

   “That’s funny, I have a brother named Jobie,” I laughed awkwardly. 

   “Oh shit, you must be his sister. June right?”

   “Juney, and yes, he’s probably my brother. What’s your name?”

   “That will be 31.49 dollars ma'am,” the cashier interrupts. I pause my conversation with Jobie’s apparent boyfriend to pay. 

   “Thank you so much,” Looking at Jobie’s boyfriend as he continues to follow me, probably waiting to get his beer. Once we step out of the store, I hand him his drinks. 

   “Here you go,”. I kinda want to invite him over. He should meet the family. But it doesn't make sense that he would say that Jobie doesn’t like him. Whatever, it’s not my relationship. 

   “Kendyl.”

   “Huh?” 

   “My name’s Kendyl,” he said.

   “Oh, well, nice to meet you Kendyl,” I smile. 

   “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” he said, starting to walk off. I pause, debating whether or not I should ask him to join. It didn’t seem like he had a car so I decided to invite him

    “Wait!” I called out. “Would you like to join me to come to our house?” I ran after him. Unfortunately, I’m definitely not in shape, just a short jog over toward Kendyl left me panting and out of breath. 

   “I’m- going to our house- and was wondering- if you wanted to join- it doesn’t seem like you have a car,” He looked at me like I was crazy, but agreed nonetheless. Now we’re in the car, sitting in awkward silence, my least favorite thing.

   “So, which grade are you in?” I say, trying to break the tension.

   “Senior.” 

   “So you're 18?” I ask.

   “17.”

   Dang he really didn’t want to talk. Whatever, I just focus on the road, even if I wanted to rip my own ears off. Soon we made it to the house. When we walked in it was quiet, suspiciously so. Jobie was probably home; he didn't really have a social life so there’s no way he’s out partying. I put the groceries down on the dining room table and walk towards Jobie’s room. Kendyl took off his shoes and followed me upstairs. When we got to his room we heard a slight shuffling. And a muffled voice. It seemed like it was trying to call for help. This made me especially suspicious. Is something bad going on? I looked at Kendyl. He also looked confused. I open the door, ready to attack anything that dared try and harm me, but when I opened the door I saw the most peculiar thing. [name] on top of Jobie and Jobie trying to push him off. Jobie looked at me with scared eyes.

   “What the fuuuccckk.”

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 19: In the Garage

Word Count: 732/Rating: G/Pairing: None/CW: Principal Higgins is an ass, anxiety about being accepted, divergent from FoI/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, Principal Higgins, Corroded Coffin

Divider credit to @silkholland

November 1984

“On my count.” Eddie slings his guitar over his shoulder and adjusts the strap. He turns to his other bandmates, all of whom nod in acknowledgment. “Two, three—”

“Mr. Munson!”

Eddie looks at the band room door when he hears Principal Higgins bellow out his name. A smirk slowly stretches across his face. “We were actually looking for four.”

Higgins sighs, trying his best to ignore the snarky remark. “Mr. Munson,” he repeats, “I’m going to have to ask you and your buddies to leave.”

“Ooh, no can do, Higgsy-Poo. We’ve got a big gig this weekend,” Eddie says, not making eye contact as he strums a few random chords. “Gotta practice, y’know?”

“That was an order, Mr. Munson; not a suggestion.” Principal Higgins points his forefinger at Eddie. “You have two minutes to pack up your stuff, or you’ve earned yourself another suspension.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes but concedes, flipping off his principal once the older man has his back turned. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters, hoisting the guitar up and over his head and placing it back in its case.

“Now what?” Grant asks.

And isn’t that the million-dollar question.

Eddie’s place is obviously out; the trailer barely holds him and Wayne, let alone three other men and a drum set. Same goes for the tiny apartment Grant shares with his mom. Jeff’s grandma is still convinced that heavy metal is used to summon Satan. Which leaves…

“We can use the garage at my house.” Gareth speaks up from behind his drums. The freshman is the newest member of the band, and also the quietest. “I don’t think my parents will mind.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Y’sure about that, freshie? Doesn’t your mom keep a rosary in her car?”

Gareth shakes his head, curls bouncing. “Nah, that was my grandma’s car. She was just borrowing it while hers was in the shop.”

“I dunno, man.” Grant gnaws on his lower lip. “Your parents look like Ward and June.”

Jeff snorts. “Does that make him Wally? Or the Beav?”

“Shut up!” Eddie launches his guitar pick at Jeff’s head. Grant was right–Gareth’s folks seemed a bit too straightlaced to tolerate Corroded Coffin’s music. But with Higgins now barring them from using the school’s practice room, they’re out of options.

“All right,” he says finally, rubbing his nose with his palm. “We’ll give it a shot. But if your parents call the cops, I’m lighting your hair on fire.”

Gareth nods. “Noted.”

The freshman’s words are insufficient for calming Eddie’s nerves. All he could picture as he drives up to the Emerson house is Gareth’s parents taking one look at his torn jeans and wild hair and dismissing him. Chastising him for being a “bad influence” on their son. Which, chances are, he is. But that’s besides the point. 

The garage door is open; Jeff and Grant are already inside warming up. Gareth waves at Eddie, and the man and woman next to him smile. 

“You must be Eddie,” the man says, sticking out a hand for him to shake. “Mark Emerson. Gareth’s dad. And this is my wife, Christine.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Eddie says warily. “You’re, uh, really okay with us playing here?”

Mark laughs. “You kidding? This is the first time I haven’t had to yell at Gare to clean out the garage.”

“Dad.” Gareth mumbles through gritted teeth, clearly embarrassed. 

“We like all kinds of music,” Christine Emerson says simply. “Metal, rock, country, jazz…” She trails off, cocking her head. “Your last name is ‘Munson,’ right?”

Here we go. A pit forms in Eddie’s stomach. The Munson name has bitten him in the ass once again. What’ll it be this time—his dad’s reputation, or his own?

“Y-Yeah.”

Gareth’s mom grins and turns towards her husband. “He must be Wayne’s nephew! The guy who helped me when I had a flat tire.” 

Relief floods Eddie’s chest. “Sounds like my uncle.”

“Seems like a good guy. Always looking out for people.” Mark smiles. “Gareth told us how you asked him to sit with you at lunch. Looks like the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“Dad!”

With a chuckle, Eddie takes his guitar out of its case. “Let’s see if you still like me after the neighbors complain about the noise.” He adjusts the microphone to his mouth. “All right, guys. On my count—two, three, four!”

[buckleylove]

9-1-1 Character Birthdays

Okay, so I’ve been going through all of 9-1-1 to create a timeline of when episodes were set etc - I have no intentions to post that tbh, it’s purely for myself like my brain fully latched onto this idea and wouldn’t let me rest until I figured it out.

However, this does mean I’ve found a fair bit of information on birthdates/years of main/side characters so I thought I’d post that here as a kinda comprehensive list with all the evidence I’ve found that supports (or even directly contradicts) these dates for anyone that's interested. This doesn’t include all of the main/side characters, because with some of them there is literally nothing to go from and I wanted to try to stick to the facts we’ve been given instead of just guessing random years from nowhere.

Before I get into it, I just want to emphasise that whilst there are a few moments where the date of certain episodes is clear, a lot of what I’ve had to go off of is when characters reference past events by how many weeks/months/years it’s been. And when a character says “x months since..”, they may be rounding up, rounding down, or they may just have an awful concept of time. So, just take it all with a pinch of salt because even though I’ve narrowed it down as best as I can, I may still be a few months out. 

So, here’s what I found in a table format, and then below is all of my explanations/workings for each of them!

Athena - March 22nd 1967/68

Okay, so Athena’s birthdate is one of the simpler ones, because Athena says she was born on March 22nd in 6x08.

“Can you read his handwriting? Because my birthday is 3/22-“ [6x08 at 20:45]

Now, Athena didn’t say the year she was born in, but in 1x09 she says that she is 50. 

“I’m figuring out how to be single at 50.” [1x09 at 37:15]

1x09 is set in March 2018. The way I worked this out involves a lot of working backwards, but I’m going to list it below for anyone who’s interested.

Firstly, we know 1x09 isn’t set an earlier than March 2018 because 1x06 is the Valentines episode (so February 14th 2018), and 1x07 shows dispatch call logs from February 28th 2018. Now that we know it’s set in at least March 2018, we need to check if there’s been any time jumps that would result in 1x09 being set later in 2018.

So, here’s how I confirmed that there has been minimal time jumps between 1x07 and 1x10:

In 6x15 at 09:45, we see Shannon’s grave and find out that she died on May 6th 2018. 

Shannon died in 2x17, so this episode must’ve been set on May 6th 2018.

In 2x18, after Shannon’s funeral (so not long after 2x17), Eddie says his probationary year is nearly over and at the end of the episode, his probationary period ends. So, 2x18 is still set in May, with the episode likely ending around June 2019. 

Therefore, 2x01 (when Eddie starts his probationary period) would likely be set in June 2018.

In 2x01, Bobby and Athena have been together for “almost 4 months”. [2x01 at 26:31]

This means that 1x10 is set 3/nearly 4 months before 2x01, which would mean 1x10 is set in late February/early March.

We know that it can’t be set in late February because of 1x07 being set on the last day of February, so 1x08-1x10 must all set in March 2018.

Personally, I think it is more likely that 1x09 is set in early march. This would mean that because Athena’s birthday is on March 22nd, she’d be turning 51 that year, which would make her birthdate March 22nd 1967.

However, there’s no official confirmation of this, and it’s still possible that 1x09 is set later on in March, which would mean she turned 50 in 2018, so her birthdate would be March 22nd 1968.

So, Athena’s birthdate is March 22nd 1967/68 (with a higher likelihood of it being 1967 in my opinion).

Bobby Nash - between late March 1965 and early March 1966

Okay, so Bobby is one of the characters in 9-1-1 that has had his age mentioned/shown more than once but both times contradict each other.

In 1x01, Bobby outright says he’s 50.

“I’m 50 years old, I’m taking the elevator”. [1x01 at 11:21]

1x01 is set in January 2018, so if Bobby is already 50 at this point, he either:

Already had his birthday that year, so turned 50 in January 2018 (born January 1968), or;

He’s turning 51 that year, so was born February-December 1967.

However, this is all made redundant because his dating profile in 1x10 says he’s 52 [1x10 at 08:19]. This might’ve been an honest mistake when they made his dating profile because it’s on screen for like two seconds and they may not have thought too deeply about it, but I’m more inclined to believe this as canon than his comment in 1x01. This is mainly because 1x01 is obviously a pilot episode, and a lot of things in shows get changed after a pilot. Normally, I would believe what a character says over something like a dating profile that’s shown for 2 seconds so may not have been fully thought through/fact checked, but in this case I’m gonna believe the dating profile. 

We already know 1x10 is set around March 2018 (from what I wrote about Athena’s birthdate, I’m not going to torture everyone by writing it all out again). Therefore, Bobby either:

Turned 52 in January-early March 2018, meaning his birthdate would be January-early March 1966, or;

Is turning 53 in late March-December 2018, making his birthdate late March-December 1965.

Therefore, Bobby’s birthdate is between late March 1965 - early March 1966.

Chimney - October 20th 1977 but also April??

Chimney is another character that has two mentions of his birthday that contradict each other.

Firstly, we see his ID in 2x10 [at 42:47], which says his birthdate is October 20th 1977.

However, we actually see Chimney celebrate his birthday in 3x11. There’s no mention of how old he turned in this episode, but we can deduce that this episode is set around April 2020. We know 3x11 is set around April 2020 because 3x10 was the Christmas 2019 episode and in this episode, Karen makes an appointment on January 3rd for her and Hen to start the fostering process. In 3x11, they foster Nia “after 3 months of paperwork”. So, this brings us to April 2020 for 3x11.

Therefore, Chimney’s birthday would be in April. 

(Not gonna lie, this is hilarious to me because they’ve given us two months that are 6 months apart which is literally the furthest apart you can be in a year lmao)

If I was to guess, I’d probably say he was born in April 1977, which is a mix of the two dates they gave us. It’s hard to deny that he was born in April when we literally witnessed him having his birthday in an episode (something we haven’t seen with any other main character). Also, the ID is similar to Bobby’s dating profile in that it could just be something that wasn’t 100% thought through or fact checked. 

Hen Wilson - September 1979 to September 1980

Compared to other main characters, there’s very little to go off of with Hen’s birthdate. The only thing I could find was from 4x03, which is set towards the end of 2020.

In 4x03 [at 34:50], Hen says “I’m a Black lesbian that joined the fire department at 30, that started med school at 40”. If Hen is 40 at this point, she either:

Turned 40 pre-September 2020, so was born pre-September 1980, or;

Is turning 41 post-September 2020, so was born post-September 1979.

So, Hen was born between September 1979 to September 1980.

Buck - March 1991 to October 1991

With Buck, I came across three times where they’ve mentioned his age, so I’ve narrowed it down from there.

Firstly, in 1x09 [at 23:56] Buck says he is 26. Therefore, he either:

Turned 26 in January to March 2018, meaning his birthdate would be January to March 1992, or;

He is turning 27 in March to December 2018, meaning his birthdate would be March to December 1991.

In 3x01, Maddie says “Buck is 28 and I still have my hands full.” [3x01 at 35:10].

3x01 is set around October 2019 because in this episode, Buck says he has been fighting for five months to get his job back [3x01 at 22:35], and his leg was pinned by the ladder truck in 2x18 in May 2019. 

So, if Buck is 28 in October 2019, he either:

Turned 28 in January to October 2019, which means he was born January to October 1991, or;

He is turning 29 in October to December 2019, so was born October to December 1990.

Therefore, looking at these two separate statements, the only months that overlap are March to October 1991. If he was born in any other month/year, only one of the statements could be true - this is the only way both statements can be true.

Another time that his age is mentioned is in 4x05 [at 10:42] when Buck says it’s been 29 years. 4x05 is set late 2020, so if Buck is 29 at this point, this supports the theory that he was born March to October 1991.

Considering that Oliver was born on June 27th 1991, they seem to be sticking pretty close to that for Buck.

Maddie - 1982 or 1983

A lot of the information we have on Maddie’s age is given to us around Buck Begins - so 4x04 and 4x05.

In 4x04, Maddie says she promised her parents she’d keep Daniel a secret, and Chimney said that she made this promise when she was 9.

“I promised my parents-” “-when you were 9!” [4x04 at 04:06]

So, the year Daniel died, Maddie was 9.

From 4x05, we know that Daniel died in 1992, because he died when Buck was 1, and Buck was born in 1991.

“He was seven when you were born. He was gone a year later.” [4x05 at 01:54]

Therefore, Maddie was 9 in 1992. This means she was born in either 1982 or 1983. This would make Maddie 37/38 in season 4 (2020) when she is pregnant, which is supported by Phillip saying she’s a high risk pregnancy (over 35).

Eddie Diaz - September 1st 1992 to August 31st 1993

Eddie’s birthdate is an estimate purely based off of Shannon’s. We see from Shannon’s grave in 6x15 [at 09:45] that she was born on October 16th 1992. 

In 6x17, it’s revealed that Eddie and Shannon were in the same grade at school.

“Weren’t you guys in the 12th grade when you met?” “8th, then we lost touch and reconnected in 12th.” [6x17 at 14:22]

So, to be in the same grade as Shannon, Eddie would be born between September 1st 1992 and August 31st 1993.

This means that in canon he is definitely younger than Buck which is insane to me and I might just choose to ignore it lmao.

Christopher Diaz - January 2011 to April 2011

Eddie Begins [3x15] outright tells us that Christopher was born in 2011 from a flashback of Shannon giving birth in 2011. 

There’s a few other mentions of Christopher’s age that helps to narrow down the months.

In 2x02, Christopher is 7. [2x02 at 16:31]

2x02 follows on from 2x01, which is set in June 2018. So, if Christopher is 7 in June 2018, we know he was born in 2011 so that means he has already has his birthday this year. (If he hadn’t had his birthday, he’d be 8 in 2018 which would mean he was born in 2010, which we know isn’t true.)

So, Christopher would’ve been born between January and June 2011.

In 3x03, Buck says Christopher is 8 when he’s searching for him.

“I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy” [3x03 at 12:36].

3x03 is set in October 2019, so using similar logic to before, Christopher has already had his birthday that year. So, this supports the idea that he was born between January and June 2011. 

So, ‘Eddie Begins’ does actually make things slightly confusing when Eddie’s helicopter goes down. We’re shown that this happens in 2015, and then the next flashback says ‘El Paso, Texas, three months later’. So this flashback is either still in 2015 or in early 2016 at the latest. Now, this is all fine until in the flashback, Eddie says “And you immediately want me to get into a car and drive 800 miles with a six year old” [3x15 at 29:31]. This flashback can’t be set any later than early 2016, which means Christopher can’t be 6. At most, he’d be 5. I guess he could’ve turned 5 in January 2016 and Eddie is rounding up, but who would round up their kid’s age by nearly a whole year when it would’ve only been a couple of months maximum since his 5th birthday?? I’m inclined to believe that this is just a result of them messing up the year that Eddie’s helicopter went down, because the next flashback is in 2017 and Helena implies that Christopher is 6, so we’re back to the correct timeline.

In 3x16, Christopher is hosting his first sleepover, and Eddie doesn’t outright say Christopher is 9, but it is heavily implied.

“Celebrate with a bunch of nine-year-olds” [3x16 at 07:39].

3x17 is set May 4th 2020, so 3x16 is likely in April 2020. Therefore, if Christopher is 9 at this point, he would have been born between January and April 2011. Christopher still could’ve been born in May or June 2011 and Eddie could have meant that Christopher is nearly 9, which would have made sense for Eddie to round up because it would’ve been only a few months until he would have been 9. However, I’m trying not to make too many assumptions, so I’ll stick with the January to April 2011 estimate until they do something else in canon.

May Grant - December 29th 2001

In 6x08 [at 20:37], we find out that May’s birthday is December 29th from Bobby’s lucky numbers.

In 3x02, May is 17. 3x02 is set in October 2019, so that means she will be 18 that year. Therefore, she was born in 2001.

This is directly contradicted in 4x10 [at 36:56] when May listens to the 9-1-1 call that Athena made in 1x02 where May overdoses. In this call, Athena says May is 14. But 1x02 is set in January 2018, which means she would’ve been 16 (turning 17 on December 29th 2018).

Harry Grant - February 7th 2010

Ah, a nice and simple one with no contradictions (so far).

In 6x08 [at 20:34], we find out that Harry’s birthday is February 7th from Bobby’s lucky numbers.

In 3x13, Michael says Harry is 10. 3x13 is set in April 2020, so Harry has already had his birthday that year. This means he was born in 2010.

Albert - mid/late April 1999 to early/mid April 2000 

Chimney makes it easier by saying that Albert is 20 when he makes his first appearance in 3x11. 3x11 is set in April 2020, so Albert was born between mid/late April 1999 and early/mid April 2000. 

He’s either turning 21 April-December 2020, so was born in 1999, or;

He already turned 20 in January-April 2020, so was born in 2000

Jee-Yun - January 2021 to March 2021

Before I get into Jee’s birthday, it’s important to remember that she was born in season 4, and season 4’s timeline is weird. Most of early season 4 I have written down as ‘late 2020’, which makes it harder to narrow down Jee’s birth month. A lot of the confusion comes because they messed up the timeline by making covid/lockdown canon for season 4, but they seemingly forgot that they’d already reached May 2020 by the end of season 3. For example, 4x01 has a title card saying it’s September 2020, but they also say it’s been 6 months since Athena was attacked, which was on May 4th 2020?? And 6 months would make it November 2020?? And they say lockdown happened in March 2020, but this would’ve been mid season 3 in 9-1-1?? So, straight away season 4’s timeline is weird. 

Luckily for us, Jee-Yun was born in 4x09, and in the episode before this, it’s revealed that Nia has been with Hen and Karen for nearly a year. Hen and Karen started fostering Nia in 3x11, which was set in April 2020. So, this means that 4x08 and subsequently 4x09 are set close to April 2021. 

Therefore, I’d say that Jee is likely born between January and March 2021.

Denny - October 2009/2010

In the crossover episode, which is set between 4x03 and 4x04, Hen says Denny is 10. 4x03 and 4x04 are set towards the end of 2020, so Denny was born in 2009 or 2010.

In 6x09, it’s Denny’s birthday.

“It’s your birthday. We can do whatever you want today” [6x09 at 08:51]

6x09 is set in October 2022. I found this out because this is the same episode that Wendall dies, and we see in 6x12 that he purchased a camera on the same week he died, and the transaction was on October 19th 2022.

“A $300 purchase to an electronics website. Same week he died.” [6x12 at 08:52]

So, Wendall died towards the end of October 2022.

Therefore, Denny’s birthday is in October, but he could still be born in either 2009 or 2010.

Mara - mid 2014 to early 2015

In 7x07 [at 14:03], we find out that Mara is 9. 7x07 is set some time after April 2024. 

Therefore, Mara either:

Already had her birthday in early 2024, meaning she turned 9 in 2024, making her birthdate early 2015, or;

She is turning 10 in 2024 and hasn’t had her birthday yet, so was born in mid to late 2014.

Therefore, Mara was born between mid 2014 and early 2015.

That's all!

And that's all of the information I found! I may have missed some important bits of info, but I did go through transcripts of each episode and skim through each episode too (looking for stuff like calendars on fridges and call logs lmao). So, I'm hoping I didn't miss too much!

[f-imaginings]

in terms of inspiration and such does it feel easier or more difficult to write as you inch closer and closer to weirdmageddon? or has it made no notable difference? you’ve been working on this story for so long so i imagine it must feel kinda strange to be getting so close to what might be the end of it!

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Another wonderful question!! You are so good at these!

I think my inspiration to write is more closely correlated to the comments and feedback I get for the story, so the more people who tell me they enjoy it, the more it inspires me to write, and I've had a wonderful abundance of attention since BOB so I am being spoiled every day by nice words. I think my drive to finish the fic is pretty sustainable at this point, and I'm already getting ideas for a sequel haha. Finishing the fic was my new years resolution (even though judging by past chapters, it's been taking roughly a month to churn each one out since they're so long and intricate) so it looks like sometime in the new year I'll likely finish the story, maybe around April or June depending on how I balance writing with my workload and social obligations. I'm determined to finish it though (so I can start a cathartic sequel hahah)

I think in terms of us being towards the end of the story though, I have noticed it's made a difference on how I plan out the chapters. In the past I had all the time in the world to build the story and relationships and take things in new imaginative directions, but with the end of the story on the horizon we're left with a limited amount of time to tie up all the loose plot threads. I am being a lot more deliberate with how I plan the chapters. I write notes about plot direction and what details to include for every chapter, and I find that with every chapter approaching the end I've been writing three lots of plot notes corresponding to each 'episode'. So there's the general overview of events from the show and what I want to include from Ford and Bill's perspective, and then there's the refined version where I drill down into what factors I want to explore for each POV (for example the notes for the next chapter include Kryptos' storyline, Ford's storyline and Bill's storyline) which really breaks down what plot beats happen in each POV, and then there's the order of the different plot points, so I can weave between the different POVs in a way that flows thematically and brings out the best contrast between the characters journey.

I try to pull together similar themes in each chapter too, so for example the last chapter had overarching themes (lmao I made myself laugh by saying the themes of chapter 61 were 'dogs' and 'what if my family secretly hates me' hahah) and then I try to place story beats from different POVs together in a way that the themes compliment or contrast each other - so for example in the next chapter the themes of finding purpose after being stripped of it will apply to characters we encounter during Kryptos' POV and during Ford's POV. I've got this planned out meticulously all the way to the end, but before I start each new chapter thats when my second and third plot plans come into place. There's just something about reading the work through again once it's been posted on ao3 that makes me realise what threads I want to pull into the next chapter and that means my second and third plots happen once the last chapter is posted. I also rewatch the show's episodes about a million times lmao and add to my notes about what little details I want to highlight and bring back from the old chapters, since this fic is technically canon divergent, not fully canon adjacent.

I get inspired all the time for this story though, from all kinds of places too. Lots of times from my work (since I work in a mental health org) or from therapy or my own reading. I attended a DSFV training session through work a few weeks ago and what I learned there gave me inspiration for how I want to tackle a possible redemption arc in a sequel, especially around cycles of violence and how it can relate to perpetrators. I'll talk about healthy relationships in my own therapy sessions, and I'll get inspired to work in stuff about relearning independence after codependency. I'll read a baller fanfic (usually from other fandoms since I've been saving myself to read all the billford fics after my fic is finished, because of that one time someone accused the fic of plagarism - but since most ppl have wised up to the fact that those claims were just one person being a big meany I've read one or two fics and there is some gold out there in the fandom!!! Like Theseus' Guide To Ruining a Perfectly Good Boat by @stump-not-found theres a few chapters out but I am loving the characterisation and how punchy the prose and stakes are!) and reading fic is a great inspiration, same with published works too, I'm currently reading Youthjuice by E K Sathue which does very interesting things with description.

Anywho sorry for the essay in response haha! You always ask such great questions jada! I just finished doing my second plot through for chapter 62 today too, what timing!