#and the beginning of green day and oasis

[girlghiaccio]

kicking my legs. soon ill have volumes 4-7 of vento aureo :)

[chilling-seavey]

Don't Worry Darling (gr63)

↳ A/N The best part about watching movies as a writer, is being inspired to write my own spin-off of the plot. I was absolutely gagged when I watched DWD and this came of it.

↳ Inspired By Don't Worry Darling (2022)

↳ Summary: Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Wife!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 21.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, gender roles, smut, oral (f reciving), breeding kink to the maaaax (and the applicable dirty talk to go along with it), one or two instances of 'mommy' and 'daddy' but not in the spicy sense, unprotected sex (we're trying to make a baby here, people), some descriptions of sickness, brief mention of suicide, some mention of medical content, dark undertones.

The summer sun danced across the freshly cleaned carpeted floors, lining perfectly with the horizontal streaks from the vacuum that had been taken to it only a few moments before. The single storey house smelt of fresh linen and citrus cleaning products and the full glass windows sparkled brilliantly in the early afternoon sun. Outside in the backyard, the two rows of clotheslines were hung over pristine green grass and the crisp white sheets were hung perfectly over each line and pinned precisely on each end. The wind rippled through them in the calm breeze, wafting clean scents across the trimmed backyard and tended garden of flourishing flowers. 

In your pastel blue dress, the empty laundry basket rested on your hip as you returned inside from tending to the laundry, a gentle whistle on your lips to a tune you couldn’t quite place but had been stuck in your head for a few days. Your white kitten heels walked silently across the perfectly vacuumed carpet back towards the mudroom that was tucked beside the garage and took the last load of laundry out of the washing machine to place in the basket. 

The crisp white dress shirts were hung on the clothesline in the backyard beside the clean sheets, pinned delicately by their shoulders so the wind could take their freshness and dry them in the summer air. 

Rain was never a concern as the neighbourhood in which you lived never had a day of spotty weather. In fact, since the day you and your husband moved into the desert oasis town, there had been nothing but comfortable temperatures and clear skies. It was just another confirmation that your decision to move out of your every-day society and into this private section of the world was the correct one. 

Running your hands down the front of the final clean dress shirt, you leaned in towards it to inhale the fresh scent of fabric softener that encapsulated the fibres and filled your senses with the familiarity that was your husband. With him away at work during the days, one might think that you would get lonely. On the contrary, there were always things for you to take up your time with. If you weren’t cleaning the house for his return, preparing dinner, or tending to the garden, you had lots of opportunities to visit the shops in town, lounge by the pool with the other ladies in the neighbourhood, or attend ballet classes where you could. Life had no stress. Life was perfect. 

With the laundry drying in the yard, you returned inside to begin preparing dinner. Your white apron was tied around your waist and you flipped open your recipe book to select your evening meal. Missing your husband a little extra that afternoon, you decided to make his favourite for his homecoming. 

On freshly scrubbed countertops and over the sparkling clean stove, you prepared the meal for him delicately and with nothing but your utmost attention to detail. He deserved nothing more than perfection. The meat was seasoned by your careful manicured hands and laid in a bed of onions and potatoes and spices in the oven to roast, the timer set for an exact hour. With the vegetables cooking on the stovetop and the counters washed down from dinner prep, you began to set the dining table for two. 

The china dishes that had been a wedding gift were set between carefully placed sterling silver cutlery and two slim candles were lit in the centre of the table. You crouched in front of the fireplace that divided the dining room from the living room and lit the flame, making sure it caught on the kindling before you shut the glass to protect the pristine home you kept from the smoke or flame. On your way back to the kitchen, you dimmed the dining room lighting down to a romantic glow and stopped by the record player to set one of your shared favourite records to play softly in the background. 

When the clock struck 5:00, you had just placed the roast on the table alongside the dishes of vegetables and salad and you hurried across the carpet floor towards the bar. Your apron was pulled off and tossed under the counter and out of sight and you quickly poured a perfect amount of golden liquor into a crystal glass and took it with you to the front door. The moment you reached the foyer, you had just a second to make sure you looked your best in the mirror by the door as the headlights flashed through the frosted glass window down the left hand side of the front door. 

The sound of footsteps on the front porch guided you to open the door with an eager smile, revealing your husband on the other side. In his work shoes and black jacket, his hand was tucked casually in the front pocket of his slacks with his briefcase in his other hand. He wore no tie but the buttoned up white shirt that you had ironed for him that morning was already slightly creased from his long day and would require laundering. But your attention was all focused on his perfectly gelled brown hair and his loving eyes that sparkled in the warm light that surrounded you. 

George was already smiling as if anticipating your usual greeting after a long day away and he stepped over the threshold of your shared home and set his briefcase by the door without tearing his eyes away from you for a second. 

“Welcome home, sunshine.” you said sweetly, offering out his drink. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered adoringly, stepping closer to you and he slid his hands around your waist to rest against the small of your back and he pulled you right up against him for a swift kiss. 

Your free hand easily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked you backwards farther into your house, the two of you sharing love-sick kisses after a long day apart. 

“How was your day?” you asked softly, when he pulled away from you for a half second to lick his lips.

“Absolute shit until now.” George whispered back, moving right in once more and he let one of his hands raise to cradle your jaw and guide your lips back on his. He lingered on your mouth for a second before his hand finally dropped to take his glass from you. 

“Then it’s a good thing I made your favourite.” you said, starting to unbutton his jacket for him as he sipped his drink all while staring at you and leading you both farther into the house and towards the dining room. 

“Mhm?” George blindly set his still half-full glass on the kitchen counter with a dull clink as you both passed by briefly so he could pull you back in for more kisses. 

You smiled against his mouth and your hands rested daintily against his chest as he leaned into you, expertly keeping up with the way his lips locked with yours in feverish kisses as if he had been too deprived of you. His large hands cascaded down your body and over your hips, steering you towards your perfectly set dinner table under the ambiance of the romantic music crackling from the record player and the fireplace flickering nearby.

“Cleaned the whole house for you too.” you continued between kisses even as your hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the crisply vacuumed carpet. 

“Yeah, it looks so good, darling.” George breathed into your mouth as his hands grabbed your thighs and he hiked you right up onto the end of the dining room table. 

In all reality, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the second you opened the door for him. The entire house could have been trashed and graffitied and he wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash because all his focus was on you. It had been that way for as long as you could remember - ever since he first laid eyes on you - and your honeymoon phase only followed you well into your first year of marriage. The whole neighbourhood knew that well. No one was as perfect for each other or as perfect together as you and George were.

Eyes locked, you were breathing heavily into each other’s open mouths as his hands helped themselves up your skirt and you shifted to help him tug your panties down your legs. They were easily tossed to the floor and George’s lips went for your neck, trailing impatient wet kisses down your skin until he was dropping to his knees at the head of the table. 

“Oh, I missed you.” you breathed to the ceiling as he bunched up your dress around your waist and then dragged his tongue right between your legs. Your sharp inhale had him doing it again before he was wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 

You fell onto your back against the table with a gasp, your hands knocking the salad bowl to the floor without concern as you messily caught yourself against the wood top. The simple touch of his mouth against your cunt had your breathing falling shallow and you gasped to the peaked ceiling of your mid-century home as you laid out on the dining table like you were dinner itself. 

George hummed gladly against your pussy as he warmed you up with filthy wet kisses. He acted like he had been deprived of you for weeks but in reality it had barely been twenty-four hours since you found yourself in a similar position. Your relationship really had nothing but strength in all aspects behind it. 

The feeling of his warm wet tongue gliding up flatly between your lips had your back arching off the table with a strangled gasp and your hands flew above your head to try and grab onto something, only knocking off the two place settings you had so meticulously set. The carpeted floor caught them delicately and without much of a sound but you were all too focused on the way George’s mouth felt to care about anything else. He lapped filthily at your clit as your breaths turned into moans and he nuzzled his face deeper into you, having craved you all day. 

“George-” you gasped to the ceiling, eyes screwing shut as he flicked his tongue over your clit in quick patterns. “Oh my God.” 

He moaned up against you and let his fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he held your legs over his shoulders hungrily, playing with your swollen clit until your toes were curling and your back was arching. The filthy slurps and smacks of his mouth and tongue against your pussy were arousing and they easily drowned out the sound of the gentle record player across the room, harmonizing perfectly with your breathless whimpers and moans that were all for him. 

He was ruthless with it, eating you out like he wholeheartedly craved you until you were writhing against the wood dining table. Your hands flew down to his head between your legs and your fingers raked through his styled brown hair to tug pleadingly on the roots to feel him closer, to feel more of him. Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you peered down your body towards him but the voluminous skirt of your dress hindered your view slightly. Instead, you let your head fall back against the table, your back arching, and you let him urge the moans from your chest. 

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, pulling at his hair harder. 

His tongue on your pussy had you quivering and he knew you like the back of his hand; always knowing right where you needed him and how to make you see stars. He tugged you a little closer to the edge of the table so he could get more of his mouth on you and his hands pried your thighs open wider, giving him full access to every inch of you. 

Your moans grew louder, pitchier, your hips trying to grind against his face as his tongue ravaged your clit mercilessly until you were flushing warm all over and aching for release. One of your hands reached above your head to grab the edge of the table, swatting the bowl of peas and carrots to the carpet blindly as you did so but you didn’t care. You were all too hung up on him and his perfect mouth. 

“Oh, darling-” you cried to the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum-”

George kept his tongue on your clit, lapping quickly at it at that same consistent pace that made you dizzy. Gasping and moaning through the romantic air, you let him take the pleasure from your veins until you were falling perfectly silent and your eyes rolled shut as your back arched helplessly off the table. 

George’s deep moan against you sent shockwaves up your spine as he licked and suckled at your cunt as you came for him, soaking his mouth in your creamy liquids that satisfied his cravings just so. You completely sobbed out his name once the height of your orgasm washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair to hold him against you just a little bit longer. He pulled away with a sharp inhale and a lick to his lips, standing up smoothly to let your legs fall gently back to the edge of the table. 

You brushed your hands over your once-tidy hair and peered down your body to where he stood at the head of the table unbuckling his belt with nothing but the strongest lust in his eyes. You hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and smeared your fingers through your messy cunt that was shimmering wet for him and from him. 

“Come here.” George ordered lowly as he kicked off his shoes across the carpeted floor and let his pants follow before he was sitting himself down on the stray dining chair, his hard cock standing stiff and swollen with need for you. 

You were still shuttering from your orgasm but you pushed yourself up from the tabletop and slid off the edge to land on your feet, your heels catching you silently against the carpet. He patted his thigh and then held out his hand to you, encouraging you over and helped you to toss a leg over his lap to straddle him. George shuffled up the large skirt of your dress and you helped him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor behind you, leaving you in only your bra and him in only his shirt as your lips found each other’s again. 

His hands groped your ass, pulling you closer to him hungrily as your lips smacked wetly together amid tongue-led kisses. Your arms around his shoulders allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair and you pulled his head closer until he was leaning into you to keep kissing you, sharing moans and breaths of nothing but pure erotica together. 

“Oh, baby.” you breathed out of your heated kisses, tilting your head back as his lips magnetized to your neck and your hands cradled his head adoringly. 

“I want you on my cock.” George spoke lowly against your neck, “I want you bouncing on my fucking cock.” 

“Yes, please.” you shifted on his lap to rise up slightly with your feet planted on either side of him and he reached down to angle his dick for you. 

With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sunk down on his dick to feel every inch of it stretching you out snugly. Mouth falling open, your thighs met his lap and you moaned shakily at the warm stretch he gave you, swirling your hips lazily to feel him everywhere. 

“Good girl, darling.” George praised, resting back against the chair with his hands securely on your hips. 

Right away, you began to bounce on him, using the anchor of your feet on the carpeted ground on either side of the dining chair to keep you supported. You leaned your head back with a gentle shake to get your hair out of your face but kept your hands on his shoulders with your fingers gripping onto the once ironed white fabric. 

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” George praised through his teeth. 

“Oh my God.” you groaned out shakily. 

You were addicted to the clap of your skin together; the filthy lewd sound that was proof of your undying love and devotion to each other. How you were the pair that everyone else envied. 

When your eyes met, you could feel your insides fluttering from only his stare and the stormy mixture of love and lust that settled behind his gaze. Fingers tangled in the back of his hair, you held him close as you greedily fucked yourself on his lap, completely salivating at the feeling of his generous cock sheathed so perfectly inside you. It was hard to keep your eyes open with the pleasure that surged within you but your husband’s stare was completely addictive. He stared at you like you were the world and with his hands on your hips, he helped you guide you through your bounces until you were choking out the sweetest moans. 

George pulled you close by your waist so you could rest right down against his chest and your arms went right around his shoulders, allowing you to share another sloppy kiss as your bounces moulded into purposeful grinds. You moaned into each other’s mouths as your pussy gripped around his cock with each roll of your hips, your feet still tucked in your heels looping around the back legs of the dining chair to five yourself some added leverage to help yourself to his body. Grinding on him back and forth, a little faster, you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, letting your head fall backwards and his lips found your neck. 

George’s hands groped your ass and he pulled you into your motions steadily, making sure you were able to feel all of each other as much as possible. His teeth sunk gently into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder and he groaned tightly against your skin as you ground down on him faster, harder, whining for more. He spanked your ass before gliding his hands up your back and he let his furrowed gaze find your face, staring at the pleasure that took over your features. Your hands gripped the back of his hair and the back of his shirt, rolling your body against his hungrily as your lips were drawn together again. 

Both of you shared hungry moans and sloppy kisses as you ground yourself down on his dick and rode him purposefully on the dining room chair. The dinner that hadn’t been swiped to the ground in your initial rush was growing cold on the serving dishes but the waste of your hard work was truly the last thing on your mind. Instead, your attention was taken up by your handsome husband and the feeling of his warm skin taking you over - body and soul. 

Breaking your wet tongue-led kiss with a whimpering gasp, your head fell back for a moment as your hips lead their course on his lap, fingers clutching his hair and his shirt as you swirled yourself back and forth on his dick and watched how his handsome face was stricken in pleasure. His hands on your waist urged you to shift again and you gladly moved back into steady bounces using the anchor of your heels on the carpeted floor. 

“Oh my God, George.” you choked out, keeping your eyes on his. “Yes.” 

His deep groans in time with every bounce of your body on his lap filled the warm romantic air between you, his hands gripping a little tighter to your hips to pull you down a little harder, a little faster. 

“Good girl.” he praised lowly. 

“Are you close?” you asked shakily. 

“Yeah, baby.” his voice was strained slightly and he stared down his body to watch how you took him all with every ungraceful stroke, his feet planted firmly on the carpet as he stayed slouched back against the dining chair. “Fuck.”

“I want you to come in me.” you breathed shakily. 

“Yeah?” George’s right hand rose from your waist to hold your jaw tenderly and his thumb slid into your mouth, “Want me to put a baby in you?” 

“Fuck- uh huh-“ you groaned through his thumb, shamelessly bouncing harder on his lap until your thighs were aching. 

“Mhm?” George’s eyes flicked between your face and his lap, watching you fuck yourself on him with his feet anchroed securely on the carpeted dining room floor. He had been waiting and dreaming for his homecoming all day, desperate for this exact moment. He knew all too well that you would never say no to him. You were equals but you were such a good wife. 

George pulled his thumb out of your mouth and slid his hand around the back of your neck to pull your forehead against his as he groaned into his orgasm. You squeezed your muscles tightly around him, making his face screw up in pleasure as his cock throbbed within the tight confines of your cunt and you finally were blessed with that first feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. You shuttered on top of him, grinding down strongly against his lap as you held each other close and met his timing almost perfectly. Your moans together were harmonious and perfect and your heart soared with adoration for him as your souls connected in the dim lighting of your shared home. 

“Fuck, darling-” George breathed out of it, holding you to his chest with his entire arms around your back, keeping you grinding against him as your orgasm tapered off. 

“Holy shit.” you whimpered quietly against his cheek, your fingers gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, your thighs trembling as you sat all your weight down on his lap to take the weight off your feet. 

His hands caressed your back and you moved to be able to meet his gaze as he asked cheekily, “So, how was your day?”

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his lips, “Amazing. Even more amazing now that you’re home.” 

“Missed you so much.” George admitted. 

“I can tell.” you smiled, scratching your fingers through the back of his hair. 

George tore his eyes away from your loving gaze so he could look towards the dining room table that was left in complete disarray from his rushed entry. He leaned forward slightly to rest his head against your shoulder and you kissed his head and ran your hand through his hair. 

“Sorry for, uh, ruining your dinner.” he whispered. 

“That’s okay. Worth it.” you assured him, “But you’re cleaning it up.”

“Okay.” he chuckled and raised his head from your shoulder to kiss your lips again. 

You took his face in your dainty hands, whispering between gentle chasté kisses, “I love you.”

George smiled peacefully, staring at your adoringly, “I love you.”

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw and your neck and his hands squeezed your ass to prompt you to get up. You moved cautiously as you stood from his lap, letting a thick drop of white slip out of you and onto his thigh and he leaned in to kiss your hip as his hands guided you off of him. 

“Any symptoms yet?” he asked gently as you bent down to grab your underwear and pull them on. 

“Don’t think so.” you answered with a shrug. 

“It’ll happen.” he almost promised. 

You stood between his legs and rested your forearms on his shoulders to lean in towards him, “Hopefully.” 

“It will.” his large hands caressed your thighs. 

You shared a soft kiss. 

George patted your bum, “Okay, go wash up. I’ll clean this mess and slice up that roast for us. Looks like it survived the chaos.” 

You kissed him once more and then slid out of his arms. Picking up your dress from the floor, you headed across the open living room and down the opposite hallway that turned towards the back of the house and led to your bedroom. You pulled out your nightgown from your dresser drawer and helped yourself to the pastel painted ensuite to freshen up, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

Once perfectly styled hair was falling out of its pins and your cheeks were flushed from more than just the light coat of foundation and blush that you had applied earlier that day. You felt giddy and warm and yet a tinge of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind as you turned to the side and ran a hand over the flat natural curve of your stomach. You had been trying for a baby for only four weeks but you were impatient for the next phase of your perfect life with your perfect husband and with every passing day, you only got more and more ansty. George promised it would happen when it happens but you were both so familiar with things coming so easily to the two of you that not having results instantaneously was almost tortuous. 

Returning to the main space of your single storey house, George was in the kitchen in only his underwear and half unbuttoned white dress shirt, tidying up the dishes and scraping the spilled food into the garbage. To anyone else, they might have been more than annoyed that their hard-work that went into making dinner had gone to unappreciated waste but it was never that serious to you. You lived to give George whatever he wanted and when all he truly wanted was you? Who were you to deny him that? 

You leaned against the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the space and watched George putter around for a moment before he saw you. He smiled over at you and then brought over the plate of sliced meat that he had taken from the table and cut up himself. Setting it between you, he picked up one of the pieces and fed it to you from his fingers. 

“Little cold now.” you chuckled softly. 

“Still good.” he complimented, taking a bite for himself. 

You stood on either side of the peninsula counter and shared the plate of your half-cold dinner, one of the candles from the table resting between you and still lit. Moments like that only rehashed the idea of your perfect imperfection that was you and him. 

“You look beautiful right now.”

You raised your eyes from the plate, slipping one more piece of meat into your mouth as you met his loving stare. 

With a bashful smile, you shrugged, and spoke through your small mouthful, “I’m just in my nightgown.” 

“I know.” George leaned over the counter and captured your lips with his in a swift kiss. 

You smiled against his mouth and raised a hand up to dust your fingertips over his jaw before you were gently pushing him away from your lips. He reached over to gently tug at your pouted bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before standing up straight again and kept your eye contact from across the counter. 

“I love you so much.” you whispered. 

“I love you more.” 

The faint crackling of the record player in the living room drew your attention across the open space of your modest house and George drifted around the counter and danced his hand over your waist on his way past you. You took another bite of your makeshift dinner and watched as he lifted the needle from the turntable to remove the record and slide it back into its case. Whistling happily in his half-dressed state, George skimmed your collection of records and pulled out a new one to place carefully on the turntable. 

The tune he kept was the same tune you had stuck in your head for a few days and you inquired, “My love, what song is that you’re whistling?” 

George glanced up at you from across the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth seeing you in the light of the kitchen behind your figure, and he looked back down to the record that he spun between his hands and then set it into its place on the turntable, “I dunno, darling. I think it’s just some random song.” 

“I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while now.” you explained, leaning back against the counter. 

“Mhm?” George seemed to shrug you off as he set the needle back on the record and the speaker crackled as it found its way into the groove. 

The house was filled with gentle romantic music and he turned up the volume as the voice of the vocalist flooded the space around you. George’s whistling moulded into the tune of the song playing and he did a little spin as he slunk his way saucily across the floor towards you. He climbed the three carpeted steps of the sunken living room and serenaded you with his rhythmic sways and motions as he approached you. You laughed softly at his goofiness and he held out his hands to you as he whistled along to the music. 

When you didn’t make a move to join him for a few seconds - just staring at him while leaning back against the counter with an adoring smile on your face - he requested of you simply, “Dance with me.” 

You pushed yourself away from the counter and set your hands in his, letting him pull you close to his body as he slid an arm around your waist and let his other hand stay holding yours beside you. He was the most angelic man you had ever seen and you set your hand around his shoulder as he guided you into gentle sways along with the music. 

You closed your eyes and melted into his chest, cheek to cheek, falling heavenly into the comfort of his embrace and the way his body moved with yours. His pitch perfect voice spoke right to your heart as he hummed quietly as you danced slowly in place within your cozy home, swaying to the rhythm of the record. With you in your nightgown and George in his underwear and dress shirt, you were perfectly domestic in that moment, the warmth in your heart swirling around the two of you wrapped as one. 

“Someday soon we won’t be able to do this.” George whispered to you.

The ominous nature of his statement had you shifting your head to look him in the eye, “What? Why?”

George just smiled sweetly and rubbed his thumb over the small of your back, “Because there’s going to be a baby growing between us soon. We’ll have to be a good arm's length apart.” 

You grinned back at him bashfully and leaned into him again so his lips pressed against your cheek for a quick kiss and then his head rested against yours. He led your gentle swaying on the plush carpet in the warm glow of the fireplace and your cozy home, only growing the adoring flutter in your heart. 

“I can’t wait.” you breathed. 

“Me neither.” George gave your joint hands a little squeeze. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” George found your lips with his, kissing away any of your anxieties surrounding the unknown future with his love that comforted you always. 

The ringing of George’s alarm clock woke you at dawn, just like any other weekday. He was cuddled up behind you in your spacious bed, wrapping you up in the warmth of the sheets and his embrace. You sighed deeply as you were forced into consciousness and as you shifted to stretch in George’s arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Morning, darling.” he mumbled sleepily, his alarm still ringing from his side of the bed. 

“Morning, sunshine.” you yawned, earning another cheek kiss from your husband before he was shifting away from you to reach over and swat off the alarm. 

You rolled after him under the blankets and as he turned back around from shutting off his clock, you draped yourself across his bare chest to admire him happily in the faint morning light that peeked through the sides of your curtains. He stroked your hair and you tapped your index finger against his lips before you leaned in to kiss them softly. He smiled at you and met you halfway for another. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” he lazily draped his arm around your back, “Did you?”

You nodded, still tired from your deep sleep you had just awoken from, and your gaze stayed focused on his familiar face. Reaching your hand up from his chest you caressed his cheek with your thumb and across his jaw that housed a faint dusting of hair that was in need of his daily morning shave. He moved his head slightly to press his lips against the pad of your thumb and you giggled adoringly and stretched your body out on top of his as if not wanting to let him get up. 

“Do you wanna stay in bed?” George asked. 

“With you?” you replied hopefully. 

“No.” he smiled sadly at you and stroked your hair again, “I gotta go to work and make some money for us and our future babies.” 

You bit back your smile but didn’t make a move to get off him, still staring lovingly at  his face.

“Okay?” he patted your bum over the blankets. 

You reached a hand up to gently scoop some sleep from the corner of his eye for him with your index finger and a soft melancholy hum and he scrunched his eyes closed and tried to turn away. You sighed dramatically and rested your chin on your hand against his chest to stare at him just a little longer before you would both have to get up. 

George’s finger traced the bridge of your nose and then plopped against your lips, tugging gently at the bottom one, whispering to you once more, “Okay?”

You nodded, breathing out a forced agreement, “Okay.”

You moved off of him and let him get out of bed and you watched from your cozy spot against the headboard as he trudged across the room and pushed open the curtains to let the tidal wave of early morning sun flood your four walls. Standing in the light in only his underwear, George was almost just a silhouette to you and as he stretched his arms above his head with a waking yawn and skimmed over your perfectly manicured backyard, you nearly swooned. As the man of your house, he made you weak by simply existing. How you adored him. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked across the bedroom towards the ensuite and, like every weekday morning, you let him get ready for his day without hassle. He naturally left the door open and you could see in the reflection of the mirror how he stripped out of his underwear into nothingness and then stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The water turned on and then his whistle followed, waking himself up in warm water a good tune. 

Now alone in your shared bed, you stretched your arms over your head and forced your limbs to wake up, the slight comfortable tension on your muscles forcing the reminisce of your evening reunion to leak out of you and into your underwear. The sheets had fallen down to your waist from George climbing out of bed and you dropped your hands to rest on your stomach with an impatient sigh, staring down at your soft skin exposed to the morning sunlight. Sleeping bare beside him to allow your skin to touch completely was your favourite way to sleep as you so easily learned after you wed and moved into your perfect home together. He always felt so close that way. 

When your bare feet hit the carpeted floor and you rose from the mattress, you reached for his white button up dress shirt that he had worn the previous day and had discarded to the chair in the corner of the room. Keeping yourself modest within your empty house, you buttoned up the bottom three buttons, and then straightened out the creased fabric in the full length mirror. 

You stopped by the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as you called out to your showering husband, “Darling love; I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Okay, sweetheart, thank you.” George called back through the water and patterned shower curtain. 

Your bare feet patted softly down the picture frame lined hallway that was bathed in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows opposite, and you turned into the main space of your house that had been silent from nightfall. You opened the curtains and turned on the radio to bring your house to life as you began the routine of your mornings. 

As usual, the weather was bright and clear and the sun had just barely made it above the horizon, meeting you outside in the backyard with refreshing crisp air and a wash of golden light, filtered only by the neighbouring houses and your clotheslines. The laundry that you had hung up the previous day was now perfectly dry and you unpinned one of the fresh white shirts that matched the one you were wearing and brought it back inside with you as the iron was heating up. The radio announcer spoke to the news of your uneventful town where the most interesting happenings consisted of shopping centre sales or the community pool being closed for cleaning. 

The ironing board was set up in the living room and you draped the clean shirt across it to be met with the steaming iron. The creases were steamed and ironed out of the fabric with ease and you found yourself humming that same mysterious tune as you worked, constantly stuck in your head. When the shirt was left neatly on the ironing board for retrieval by your husband, you continued on to the kitchen to put his lunch together and get breakfast started, letting the radio’s news mould into morning hits that livened your home with music. 

George joined you in the kitchen a few minutes later, lured from the bedroom by the smell of bacon and coffee in only his dress slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, his face shaved, and his brown hair already combed and gelled to perfection. At the sight of you in the kitchen in only his shirt and your little panties, George was grinning slyly and walking over to you at the stove. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face in your neck to kiss your skin. 

“Mm, good morning, beautiful woman.” he said lowly against the shell of your ear, the smoothness of his voice enough to butter your toast that morning. 

“Good morning, handsome.” you replied sweetly, setting your free hand that wasn’t holding a spatula against his around your middle as you leaned back into him to welcome his lips on yours in a few lingering kisses. When he broke your kisses, your eyes shamelessly skimmed his face and chest and you reached your hand up to touch his smooth jaw, “Mm, you look so yummy.”

“Says you in this little outfit, baby, goddamn.” George tisked, giving your ass a little two handed squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and he kissed your neck again. 

“You’re an easy man to please, my dearest.” you said as he drifted away from you across the space to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board. 

“You make it easy.” he praised right back as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up on his way back towards you.

He paused as he tucked the shirt into his pants and then stopped to open the front door and grab the newspaper from the porch. 

“Coffee’s in your mug already.” you told him as he shut the door again.

Returning to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, already skimming the headlines, he answered you haphazardly, “You’re a perfect woman, baby.”

“Perfect for you, George Russell, and don’t you forget it.” you waved the spatula at him from across the kitchen and he smiled over at you as he lifted his steaming mug of coffee up to his lips for a sip. 

He stood at the island with the newspaper laid out before him and he skimmed the stories and articles as he tied his tie around his neck and set his collar down neatly and flipped through the pages as he sipped his morning coffee. You cracked farm fresh eggs into the skillet beside the bacon, watching how the grease sizzled and crackled as breakfast cooked, filling the kitchen with aromas that made your stomach growl. As the pan was left cooking, you tended to the toast in the toaster that had just popped and you placed the perfectly browned slices on a plate. 

“What is your plan today, darling?” George asked you, his eyes following you as he sipped his coffee and left the newspaper open in front of him. 

“The girls and I are going to go shopping.” you answered casually as you buttered each slice of toast. “I’m thinking my wardrobe needs a bit of a refresher but I already have a dress in mind for tonight that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet so I won’t need to buy anything new for that today. I had my eye on this set that was in the window of the department store this week - these gorgeous blue shorts and a matching blouse.”

“Blue is your colour, baby.” 

“Is that why your eyes never leave me?” you flirted smoothly.

Said blue eyes - the very ones you fell in love with - winked at you over the brim of the coffee mug. You smiled widely and cut the slices of toast in halves diagonally before delivering them to where George stood at the island. 

“Make sure anything you buy is put on my card.” he reminded you. 

“I know, I know. That’s all they allow us to do anyway.” you tisked and returned to the stove. “I must say, every time one of the employees greets me with a ‘good morning, Mrs. Russell’ or a ‘is that all for today, Mrs. Russell’ I swear my heart skips a beat.” 

George chuckled lightly at your swooning over your shared name as he took a bite of toast and then spoke through it, “It’s been a good few months now, sweetheart. Still not used to it?”

“I’m used to it.” you assured him. “I just love it.” 

He just smiled down to the newspaper. 

“I might attend a ballet class this afternoon too.” 

“Oh?” George looked over at you again, “Does that mean I get to see you in a leotard and a little tutu?”

You rolled your eyes at him teasingly as you plated the bacon and eggs from the pan, “Don’t push your luck, mister.” 

He leaned in towards you as you joined him at the island with your two plates, promising with a quiet, “I’ll be good.”

“You’re always good.” you whispered right back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before setting the plates in front of you both. 

You ate breakfast together over the newspaper and distant noise of the radio, feeding each other bites of bacon and toast and trying not to spill egg on his perfectly crisp clothes. Soon it was time for him to leave for the day and he grabbed his lunch tin that you had set earlier on the counter peninsula and you hurried over to get between him and the door. 

“Wait,” you set your hands on his chest as he nearly walked right into you, “I forgot to tell you-”

“Mhm?” George encouraged you on with a little amused smile, already knowing what was coming after this almost daily routine…only made more insistent on the mornings that came after an evening with perfect heavenly love making. 

“You can’t go to work.” you told him, even as he started walking slowly towards the door, forcing you to take slow steps back in time with him. 

“Why not?” he pressed, his lips grazing yours with how close you stood. 

“You don’t feel well, remember?” you slid your hands over his shoulders. 

“Oh, I don’t?” 

“No.” you licked away your smile as he had you in the foyer now, “And you need to stay home so I can cuddle you and kiss you and tend to you and nurse you back to health.”

“Oh, I see.” George blindly lifted his jacket from the hook by the door, all without tearing his eyes away from yours, “And your shopping plans?”

“Canceled for you, my love.” you answered easily, sliding your arms around his waist as he pulled his jacket on and you leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “So we should get you into bed.”

“We should?” George had you against the front door and you stood guard in front of it to prevent him from leaving. 

“Yes.” you smiled sweetly at him with your lightly frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt of his you wore. 

It would have been so easy for him to fall into your little trap and stay home with you all day - it was near impossible for him to say no to you and especially so when you looked like a golden angel in the sunlight that bathed the house. Instead, he reached a hand up and caressed your cheek and then leaned in to kiss your lips once, twice, and then lingered there for a third before pulling away. 

“I got to go, darling.”

Pouted in lighthearted defeat, you slunk out of his way so he could open the front door and you followed after him onto the porch, stopping him by the arm for one more kiss. 

“I love you.” you said. 

“I love you.” he smiled back, his eyes glancing up and down your figure and once more across your face as if memorizing you completely, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you let your hand fall from his arm and you watched him walk down the front porch steps and around to the drivers side of his shiny car. 

The other men on your little street were also saying their goodbyes to their wives and getting into their cars like clockwork but your attention was only on your husband and the way he checked his hair in the rearview mirror before sliding his sunglasses on. He caught your gaze once more and blew you a kiss before turning the key in the ignition. 

With the rumble of the engine, you took one more step down the front porch in only his white buttoned shirt and blew him a kiss back, letting your hand stay outstretched in a gentle wave as he backed out of the driveway alongside the other men. Then, like a little parade, they made their way down the street in a single file row and out of sight. 

Sitting around in the comfy chairs of the classy department store, you and your friends sipped champagne and discussed your mornings and the ballet class you had just returned from. 

“It was more of a workout than I had thought!” one of the ladies expressed. 

“Such beautiful dancing though. Do you think they’ll have us perform a show by the end of the season? I would love to be able to show my husband all that we do!” 

“Oh, that would be so nice!”

“We should put in a request.” 

“My husband does not so much as care about what I do, I must admit.”

“Being one of the most important men in business, it’s fair to say he’s tired when he gets home every night.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind some attention from him.”

As your friends gossiped about their husbands and their home lives, you set your drink flute on the glass coffee table and stood from your chair to browse a few of the near-by racks. In a blue floral dress that swayed around your knees with every step, you held that soft tune on your lips as you gently swiped through each clothing option with the tags labeled without prices. The women never had to bother with money, it was just one way that life was made less stressful in your little picturesque neighbourhood. 

One of the ladies spoke a little louder so you could hear, “All of us seem to have things we wish to improve in our marriages and then there are the Russells who could not be any more perfect if they tried.” 

With a skirt in hand that you were admiring, you glanced over to your friends who all had knowing looks directed your way. You smiled and shook your head, “I wouldn’t call us perfect. No one is perfect.” 

“Oh, but you’re pretty close.” one of the ladies said before turning to the rest of the group, “You won’t believe the things I hear from even the next house over. It’s like their honeymoon phase lasts for months.” 

“Okay.” you laughed to try and brush her off as you set the skirt back on the rack beside you.

Another one of your friends added smoothly, “You won’t be fitting in these dresses much longer by the sounds of it then.”

The first friend only continued, “I know! If you two aren’t pregnant soon I think there must be something wrong with the universe.”

The rest of your small group agreed easily. 

“Yeah.” you added, “We’ve only been actively trying for a few weeks but-”

“More like six months by what we hear next door.”

“Okay.” you hushed her with a bashful blushing smile and you turned back to the rack to skim through some more clothes. You tried not to let their innocent excitement for you get under your skin but you were anxious and impatient and wanting a baby more than anything. It hadn’t been very long but when it was the thing you prayed for most in the world, each passing hour felt like a lifetime. 

You tried on the outfit you had been eyeing in the change room - that blue full skirt and matching blouse - and although it fit you like it was tailored for you, you silently wished it didn’t fit. You craved the growth of life inside you and it never seemed to leave the forefront of your mind. 

Regardless, you let your anxieties out with some retail therapy as you set your blue outfit on the cash desk along with a few more casual dresses and shoes. The man behind the counter rung up your items and folded them into tissue paper and set them in a box with a neat little bow. 

“Will that be everything today, Mrs. Russell?” he asked routinely. 

You glanced across the counter to him, “Yes, thank you.” 

“Wonderful. I will charge it to your husband’s account.” he held out the box to you, “We hope to see you again soon. I couldn’t help but overhear that it may be in our maternity department?”

You offered a polite smile and thanked him quietly as you took your box and returned to your friends who were getting ready to leave with their own purchases. Upon joining up with your little group again, you all emerged out into the sunny afternoon to make your way towards the trolley, discussing your evening in terms of your planned outfits for the neighbourhood dinner that was to be hosted at the lavish event hall in town. Your friends spoke excitedly about the dressed they had picked out and their hopes that their husbands would match their excitement at least partially. It was always nice to have a night off when you didn’t need to have dinner ready for the men’s homecoming - or so your friends touched upon. To you, everyday meant simply looking forward to George being home, regardless of what you had prepared or not. You liked to tend to him and you did so gladly. 

That day, however, you felt drained. Your physical body seemed to be taking after your emotional state in that sense and by the time the trolley stopped at the end of your street and let you off and you shared quick ‘see you tonight’s with your friends as you parted ways onto your own properties, you were ready to sit down. 

The house felt so quiet and empty when you were there alone and although it never usually bothered you, this afternoon only raised that looming loneliness that had been festering inside you. Trying to calm yourself down, you hummed that same gentle tune that had been stuck in your head and walked slowly down your hallway and into your master bedroom. After your morning tidy, the bed had been already made and any laundry was put away in the hamper, leaving a spotless room for you to set your shopping box down on the pulled tight sheets. With a hum on your lips, you helped yourself to the ensuite and ran a bath in the teal porcelain alcove tub, your gaze drifting over the alarm clock on the bedside table as the water filled and you stripped out of your dress and heels. George was expected home in just over an hour and you would have to be ready for him then so all he had to do was put on his formal jacket and dress shoes and you could be out the door and on your way to the party right away. 

The steaming bath water forced a sigh from your chest as you lowered into it and relaxed back against the edge. Your eyes closed peacefully and you rested your head back against the wall to give yourself a moment to ease your tensions that seemed to riddle your body that week, your hair still tied half-up with a ribbon that matched your day dress. In a few moments you would have to get up but you breathed yourself into relaxation to make the most of your quiet day. 

You were woken to a gentle touch to your shoulder and your eyes flew open with a surprised gasp, the barely-warm water sloshing around your body as you startled. George was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his work clothes, his expression a mix between surprise and love, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

“I was worried where you were when you didn’t meet me at the door.” he chuckled softly. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you asked worriedly, your features expressing your unrest easily. 

“Just after 5:00.” George answered. 

“Oh my- I’m sorry- I was supposed to be ready to go-“ you started to get up but he set a gentle hand on your shoulder to keep you in the water a little longer. 

“It’s okay, darling. There’s no rush. We still have a whole hour.” 

George dipped down to kiss your lips and your stress lines melted into a tender smile at his touch and you leaned up from the tub to kiss him again gladly. When you sat back again, he just stared at you for a few long seconds, a calm smile on his face. The intensity of his blue eyed stare always had you needing to look away and you smiled shyly down to the bath water. 

George broke your silence with a soft, “You look gorgeous.” 

You leaned your head back against the wall again so you could look at him, admitting quietly, “I missed you today.” 

“I missed you too.” George stroked your hair before he was getting up from the wide of the tub, “I bought you something on my way home.” 

Your attention was peaked, watching him walk hurriedly out of the ensuite and out into your bedroom, “You did?”

He came back in with a garment bag and a beaming grin and he unzipped it to reveal a royal blue evening dress with a straight neckline, short dainty sleeves, and a matching bow around the waist. You bit back your smitten grin at the excitement of your selfless husband and you leaned your arms on the edge of the tub to admire the stunning new dress, careful to not touch it with your wet hands. 

“Sweetheart,” you breathed adoringly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you in it…I just had to stop and pick it up for you. You’re gonna look beautiful tonight.” George gushed as he hung the hanger up on the shower curtain rod. He started to untie his tie from around his neck as he talked on, “And I even grabbed myself a matching tie from the store while I was there just so we can match tonight. I know you always like that even if you might not always admit it.” 

You rested your cheek down against your folded arms on the tub edge and admired him shamelessly as he stepped back into the bedroom again only to return to the bathroom mirror with a royal blue tie that matched the colour of your new dress perfectly. He draped it around his neck and popped his collar so he could tie it as he spoke to you. 

“Come on, darling, come get ready.” 

You always loved going out with him and especially having any excuse to dress up but the whirling of your mind was distracting and you caught yourself suddenly swallowing back tears. You dropped your face into the crook of your arm and let out a shaky exhale to try and regain your composure. 

“Hey,” George’s gentle voice got closer and soon he was crouching beside the tub, reaching out a loving hand to caress your damp shoulder, “what’s wrong, my love?”

You sniffled and raised your head up again to meet his concerned gaze and you shrugged, mouthing a silent and passive, “I dunno.”

“Mm mm.” George shook his head gently, “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want a baby.” you whispered. 

“I know.” George let out a faint chuckle at your obvious confession but his expression stayed serious as he took in your obviously distressed state. His hand stroked over your head and into the damp ends of your hair that had grazed the water in your bath.

“I want one now.” you continued quietly. 

“I know. That’s why we’re working so hard.” he nudged your cheek teasingly with his knuckle.

You barely offered him a smile, “I’m scared it won’t happen.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why’s that?” 

You shrugged, “Because if it hasn’t happened yet then what if it never will?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” George tisked and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “It’s still early…it’s been barely a month-”

“But we weren’t even really being safe before that. How did it not already accidentally happen?”

“I dunno.” he chuckled, “But that’s okay. I am in no rush. We have our whole lives together and it’s only been a little while of trying and I’m not giving up yet. I’m not giving up on us or our babies, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded. 

“So don’t worry, darling. Don’t stress yourself out over this because you’re just going to make yourself crazy with worry.”

“I want to give you a family.” you mumbled sadly. 

“You are my family.” George promised and leaned in to kiss your temple. “You’re all I need to be happy.”

“I love you.” you whispered, turning your head slightly to urge his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you.” he kissed you once more before he was standing up and offering out his hands to you, “Now let’s get you out of this bathtub and into that dress so you can be the most breathtaking woman at the party.” 

The event hall was located near the centre of town and was decorated lavishly for the evening party that was to be hosted there. George parked on the street and even at the slight distance you were from the venue, the lights and music still made their way down the sidewalk and lured you in eagerly. With your hair curled and pinned to perfection and in your brand new gown purchased by the hands of your husband, you already felt like a million bucks, only eased more by the reassurance that he offered you only an hour earlier. He was truly all you needed and anything more was just a perfect treat. 

Your hand rested daintily in the crook of his elbow as he led you both into the loud and boisterous hall and right away, other partygoers were greeting you over the music and noise. Butlers passed by with platters of horderves and George snagged you both a small serving each on the way to your table. Right up near the front, your reserved table was awaiting you, and a few of your friends were already there and in their seats, mingling and drinking. 

At the sight of you, your friends had plenty to say about your matching dress and tie and the way you just looked so perfect together. Friendly cheek kisses were shared by the ladies and the men exchanged handshakes and everyone was arranging themselves in their seats that were labeled with golden calligraphy name tags. George pulled out your chair for you and helped you take your seat in your spot before he was leaning down with his hands on your shoulders to let you know he was going to the bar to order some drinks. You reached up one hand to pat over his in acknowledgement and he leaned down to kiss your cheek before disappearing through the crowd with a few of the husbands. 

“Oh he is enamoured by you.” one of your friends gushed from across the table. 

“And this dress is stunning!” another reached over to touch your sleeve. 

“He picked it out.” you admitted - only slightly bragging, “Came home with it today and said he needed to buy it for me because he kept picturing me in it.” 

The girls swooned over that, lighthearted jealousy filling the air. 

“You two are too cute.” another one of the women said, “It’s a known fact that the Russells are all too perfect.”

“Yep. Makes me sick!” another joked. 

The one on your right nudged your arm gently, leaning in to say quietly while still being heard over the band playing, “Did you hear that your husband might be getting a promotion tonight?” 

Your eyes widened, “No. I didn’t hear that. Is it true?”

She nodded, “My husband heard at work. Apparently George has been doing an excellent job…he’s so dedicated, y’know? The mayor is so impressed.” 

“It’s a surprise?” you questioned. 

“Think so. But I don’t even know if it’s 100% true so don’t go saying anything anyway. I know you two have no secrets between you and all.”

You pretended to lock your lips with your fingers and throw away the imaginative key and you shared quiet giggles. 

The men returned shortly after and George set your drink down on the table in front of you before he was unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and then sitting down beside you with his own drink. His hand rested on the back of your chair while his eyes took in the party around you from the crowded tables of neighbours to the impressive height of the floral centerpieces on each, sipping his drink calmly. You set your hand on his thigh as you took to your own drink, naturally keeping him within arms reach at all times even if the attention was on the conversation at your table. 

It wasn’t long before the performers were introduced to the crowd and the stage was filled with female dancers, their costumes not leaving much to the imagination other than streaks of glitter and sparkle covering them scandalously. The music guided them and the men cheered loudly as the women watched politely, you among them. But George wasn’t looking at the stage. Instead, his head was turned away from the show just so he could stare at you instead. 

Cluelessly, you sipped your drink and watched the show, unknowing to the way his attention was focused all on you. A calm smile rested on his lips and his eyes took in every inch of your face as you sat at his side so effortlessly. When his hand dropped to your lap and he gave your knee a squeeze, you finally looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him already staring at you. 

George leaned in towards you and you met him halfway so he could whisper against your ear behind the loud show music playing through the spacious room, “Wanna come get some air with me?”

You smiled innocently at him and set your drink back on the table as your silent agreement. 

He got up first from his chair and took your hand to guide you after him, moving smoothly away from your table without wanting to interrupt the show. Your friends only shared knowing glances among themselves at the sight of the two of you sneaking off. You didn’t necessarily know you were that predictable to outsiders. 

The music from the ballroom muffled as you emerged into the hallway and let the double doors close behind you, having a moment alone in peace of just the two of you. George spun you under his arm and then pulled you right up against his body, sliding his arm around your waist lovingly as his lips found yours with ease. You raised your hands up to the side of his neck to hold him there, gladly letting him kiss you deeply within the rush of escaping the crowded party. 

George pulled away from your lips only to whisper honestly to you, “You really are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

You caressed his smooth jaw with your thumbs, “All thanks to this dress you picked out.”

“Your beauty requires no thanks to me.” he corrected smoothly, taking your hands from his face to hold in his own and he started to walk backwards to pull you after him towards the washrooms. 

You walked after him giddily, only pulling your hands from his grasp and falling against his chest with your arms around his shoulders as he backed into the empty women’s washroom. In the formal setting of the ballroom, the washroom was designed just as lavishly and the mirror framed lounge with a central circular sofa welcomed you warmly. Your lips found his again and he blindly locked the door behind you before spinning you both around and leading you farther into the elegant room. 

You could never get enough of his lips and even as he licked his way into your mouth, you were still pulling at the back of his neck to feel him closer, moaning softly into his kiss. George’s hands slid down your body and over your hips and ass and his dress shoes scuffed over the marble floor as he guided you towards the small make-up counter across the room. Often used for ladies to excuse themselves from the party to freshen up their lipstick or blush at the built-in vanity, it was now taken as a place for George to press you up against in the most erotic way, sending your heart in your throat and between your legs in eager anticipation. Only the simplest of touches from your husband sent you spiralling. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed into his mouth as your kiss broke for him to focus on shuffling up your voluminous skirt. 

Both already breathing heavily, your mouths were open in lust as lips brushed tauntingly and you shared air together. Your hands held onto his biceps over the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket and his warm hands snapped the waistband of your lacey panties against your waist. You giggled and he lowered to a crouch in front of you, holding up your skirt in one hand as his other started to pull down your underwear and his lips trailed after them in slow open-mouthed kisses across your skin. His gelled hair wasn’t easy to get your hand in without ruining it completely so you settled for resting your hands on the cold vanity countertop that you were resting back against the edge of. 

George stood back up and in one smooth motion, his lips were capturing yours in a filthy kiss. You let one arm toss around his shoulders as you kissed him back hungrily, pulling hearty moans from his throat at the way you melted into each other and he shoved your underwear in his pants pocket. His hand took its place under your skirt and pressed right down against your clit, making your next breath shutter. 

“Fuck-”

George swallowed up your words with his mouth, tasting the way you swore at his touch, locking his pillowy lips with yours perfectly. He stroked your clit lazily with his fingertips and soon had you trying to grind against his hand as he stood between your legs and was nearly leaning into you over the vanity. 

You tilted your head back to break your kiss with a exhale, “George-”

Breathing in time with each other into each other’s mouths, you held him close around his shoulders as he made you wet with ease; like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His lustful eyes were on yours, unwavering, glimmering in the warm light of the circular mirrored room you found yourselves in, companion only to the muffled music from the party across the hall. 

His fingers moved a little faster against your clit and his attention was focused all on your face as he watched the way your expression changed for him, your nose scrunching up in pleasure and your eyebrows furrowing slightly with the moan that reverberated in your chest. He stopped suddenly, forcing a gasp from you, and his fingers slowed right down to rub over your pussy instead, smearing around the sweet wetness that pooled out of you by his very own touch. 

“Fuck, you get wet for me so easy, my good girl.” he praised into your mouth, his body pressed right up against yours. 

“I’m yours.” you promised him. 

“Uh huh?” he swirled his fingers around your clit again, taunting you, “Do you want me to put a baby in you, darling?”

“Fuck, yes please.” you rushed out. 

“Want me to make you a mommy? Say it.” 

“Please put a baby in me, George.” you pleaded, tugging at his tie to try and pull his lips on yours again, your legs spreading wider to urge his touch where you craved him. “Let me make you a daddy.”

“God damn, you’re so perfect.” George groaned, rubbing messily at your clit again. 

A pleasurable shriek fell from your throat and your head tossed back blissfully, welcoming his lips to your neck in feverish kisses that he moved right up under your ear to make you shiver. His fingers created the perfect friction against your aching clit and you ground against his touch, desperate for more. You always wanted more. 

“Baby, please.” you breathed to the ceiling, “Please fuck me. Please cum inside me. I need you so fucking bad.” 

George pulled his hand out from under your skirt so he could shove off his black jacket and he tossed it behind him to hopefully land on the couch in the middle of the room. Neither of you cared enough to watch where it went because then he was unbuckling his belt and you were shuffling up your skirt some more and draping your hair over one shoulder as the heat was already rushing over your body. You didn’t separate for long and even still he stood so close to you at the counter that you could breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes locked, hearts beating as one. 

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the counter as your hands pulled his lips back on yours for more kisses. George’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to him and the feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips had your body arching into him hungrily. You reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his dick and gave it a few impatient strokes, feeling how it only stiffened up more at your touch. It felt like you were in a rush, driven by lust and desire, and George nudged your legs open wider so he could step right up to the vanity, at the perfect height to let the head of his cock nudge against your sensitive clit. 

“Don’t tease me, you asshole.” you giggled breathily, earning a soft laugh from your husband as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You held onto his biceps as he carefully fed his thick cock into your leaking cunt, sheathing so snugly inside you that both of your mouths fell open in unison, eyes locking. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” George whispered against your lips, sliding a hand around the small of your back to urge you a little closer to the edge so he could get as deep as possible. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled shakily, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and your arms slung around his shoulders to pull his lips on yours. “Oh my God.”

You shared deep sloppy kisses as he started to thrust into you slowly and your moan against his lips had his eyebrows furrowing in filthy bliss. He broke your kiss for a moment to look at your face before dropping his gaze down between you, lifting up the hem of his dress shirt out of the way even if your skirt was still covering most of it. You tilted his head back up to look at you desperately, wanting to find the love in his eyes, and he thrusted into you a little faster as your gaze sent him spinning. 

You breathed in time together, wrapped up together on the vanity counter, and as George’s feet stayed planted securely shoulder width apart in his dress shoes against the polished marble floor, he had the ability to take you as he wanted you right then and there. His lips pressed to your jaw in fleeting kisses as he held your body close and fucked you faster, desperate to feel more of you. 

Your head fell back with a moan and he helped himself to your neck, holding you in place on the edge of the counter. As the seconds passed, he only got more desperate, thrusting into you faster, harder, holding your body against his in that gorgeous blue dress he bought for you. 

“George-“ you cried out softly, clinging onto him, spreading your legs wider for him so he could get deeper. Your manicured fingernails grasped the back of his dress shirt around his waist, crumpling the once perfectly ironed material in your fist as your heels dropped from your feet one and then the other, landing on the marble floor with a sharp thud. 

“Good girl.” George praised against your cheek, his large hands caressing your thighs and your back as he held you close to his body. 

Your eyes were focused over his shoulder to the wall opposite you, hung up on the reflections that the mirror-framed room offered you of all angles. It was possessive to watch like that, how your arms and legs were wrapped around him completely, fingers of one hand drifting into the back of his brown hair as his warm breath was panted against your neck in time with his quick thrusts. It made you salivate with desire for the man you loved more than life itself. 

“Oh my God-“ you moaned out for him, dizzy on the sound of his skin clapping filthily with yours as the luxurious bathroom muted the distant sounds of the loud party music through the ballroom. Your hand tightened in his hair as he fucked the whimpers out of you, igniting warmth over your skin. “Just like that, baby, please-“

“Wanna cum for me?” George asked lowly against your cheek. 

“Yes, please.” you huffed out shakily. “Please make me cum.” 

“Yeah?” George grabbed your thighs to spread you a little wider, making you hold your legs open by linking them over his forearms as his hands took your hips to hold you in place. 

Your pleading hands pulled his lips on yours by the back of his head, sharing filthy tongue led kisses between your pants and moans together as he drew you both closer. Both of you were completely ignorant to the muffled speech going on back in the ballroom, too hung up on each other. Tossing your head back with an overwhelmed moan to the ceiling, your hands dropped behind you to the countertop and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. 

The skirt of your dress bunched around your middle and his hands were buried underneath it to hold you by the waist at the edge of the vanity, fucking you deliciously until that warmth was tightening in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him lustfully, you basked in the pleasure he brought to you so easily, giving him the sweetest moans that helped him closer to the conclusion you needed from him. 

“Cum inside me.” you whispered to him longingly. 

George stared back at you strongly, thrusting into you steadily as he taunted you with words that sent you whirling, “Want me to put a baby in you, darling? Cum so fucking deep inside you until you’re completely knocked up?”

“Fuck me.” you groaned through your teeth, your voice wavering, “Please, George. Please knock me up. Please give me your babies. Please, please, please-“

“Uh huh-“ he spoke over your soft begging, holding you by your waist as close as he could so he could hit as deep as possible, making your toes curl in midair. 

You tugged the skirt of your dress up and got your fingers on your swollen clit to rub quickly at that spot, desperate for those incredible waves of pleasure that came to you only alongside your darling husband. Your head fell back with a gasping groan, your pussy squeezing down around him snugly as your orgasm approached quickly and you mouthed his name to the mirrored room in a whisper. 

So many reflections to watch your sneaky rendezvous but George was only staring at the real you right in front of him, watching how you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you, “Let go for me, darling. Take the fucking cum out of me. Take it.”

Your fingers rubbed quickly at your clit, pulling the air from your lungs as your body gave itself to him completely, pushed over the edge by the way he thrusted into you so perfectly. You tensed up around him and he groaned lowly between you as the pulsing flutters of your pussy radiated bursts of pleasurable sensations up his spine. You came for him with a cry of his name, your eyes staring back at his handsome face as your expression wavered with overwhelm. 

George only fucked you faster, desperately chasing that sweet conclusion that would bring you both closer together. You slung your arms around his shoulders as you shuttered against his body with the intense pleasure that radiated over every inch of you. He shifted to get your legs back around your waist and he held you as close as possible as he thrusted into you sloppily. 

“Hold onto me.” he whispered strongly, urging your hands to cling onto the back of his shirt to keep you together as close as possible. Your ankles linked together behind his waist and your heels pressed into the flesh of his bum to keep him nice and deep as his breathing grew shallower. 

He was coming seconds later, nearly slumping into you as your arms held each other close and he forced himself as deep as he could get inside you. His moans were beautiful and you breathed him into your senses greedily as he was all yours. You took every drop he gave you, grinding against his body to pull more out of him with how badly you wanted it, whispering little breathy yeses against his cheek in time with his final few precise thrusts. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed. 

“Mm.” George dusted a fleeting kiss to your neck as he stood up straight again. 

You held onto his biceps as he pushed up the hem of your dress to allow you both to watch him pull out slowly. His dick was slick in the mixture of both of your love and he was softening slowly in the warm air of the ballroom bathroom. He grabbed your thighs to spread your legs nice and wide and you leaned back on your hands with a sultry little smile as he stared down at your pussy and licked his lips at the sight of the thick white cream dripping back out. 

“Keep it in there.” he ordered quietly. “Keep your legs up for a bit.” 

“Mhm.” you rested back against the vanity mirror and kept your legs up, clenching your muscles tightly to keep everything in for as long as he wanted you to. 

George leaned in to kiss your lips a few times, bringing a loving smile to your face at his obvious adoration that was even more apparent in the way he looked at you when you separated. 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

“I love you so much.” you replied quietly. 

He drifted away from you to tuck himself back into his slacks and he buckled his pants up again and you watched him redress peacefully, always one to linger on the domesticity of it all. George retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it onto the centre sofa and he shrugged it back on and buttoned the two buttons once more. 

Staring at him from your spot atop the vanity, you felt your heart swell with undeniable love for him, tears brimming in your eyes with the overwhelming concept that he was yours for life and that you were aiming to make a family together. He was all you wanted, even if you wanted more of him. 

Dedicated to the growth of your family, you let your legs ache as you kept them raised and spread, willing to do anything for the cause. George stopped by one of the mirrored walls of the circular room and let that same tune play on his lips as he tended to his hair and made sure it was gelled back down and away from his face, no remnants of your fingers in it. He then returned to you and situated himself between your legs, sliding his hands up your skirt that hid you modestly and he caressed your warm skin. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. 

“Little dizzy.” you admitted, your head resting back against the mirror, “But I’m so good.” 

“Dizzy?”

“Mhm. You made me cum really hard.” you giggled. 

George smiled, his momentary concern melting into a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You shared whispered ‘I love you’s before he was helping you to lower your legs and guide you off the counter. On wobbly legs, you held onto his forearms and took a second to steady yourself until you were able to stand straight on your own. George pressed a kiss to your temple and then pulled your underwear from his pocket for you to put back on. You held onto him as you carefully pulled them up your legs under your dress and then slid on each of your heels one at a time.  

“Okay?” he asked. 

You smiled at him and nodded, blinking away the slight dizziness that lingered. You had a party to return to after all. 

When you returned to the ballroom hand in hand, the mayor was on the stage with the microphone in hand, addressing the crowd. It was otherwise quiet as if they were missing something but almost the exact moment you walked through the doors, the spotlight was on you. You raised a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright white light and George guided you slowly back towards your table as the mayor called you out by name. 

“There they are! The Russells have made their return!”

Blushing furiously with the entire town’s attention on you, you clung tighter onto George’s hand and followed close beside him to your table. 

On the stage, the mayor wasn’t done, “I have to admit that I am quite proud of these two’s dedication to helping our community to grow into the next generation. I’m sure it won’t be long until we can welcome another child into our perfect little paradise, isn’t that right?”

The crowd cheered loudly with applause and you nearly felt faint, the spotlight following you through the crowd. George’s hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you onto your chair again. 

The mayor continued, speaking into the microphone as his other hand gestured out towards the two of you, “In your absence, George, you missed my most important announcement of the night.” 

George offered him a tight smile as he sat back down beside you with a polite, “Awfully sorry about that, Frank.”

“No, no.” the mayor assured him, “I understand that you take your job as man of the house just as seriously as you take your job with us here.” 

Your dizziness was only growing into a sweat at your brow and you dabbed your napkin from your place setting gently at your temples to try and tame your rising temperature. Maybe it was the warm spotlight, you assumed, or the attention of the entire neighbourhood being focused on you that made you nervous but you really weren’t feeling too well. 

George was looking up to the nearby stage as the mayor addressed him directly, meaning his back was almost completely towards you. You set a clammy hand on his shoulder. 

The mayor continued, “Which is exactly why I wanted to bring up your dedication to your service to us and your ability to live with the morals and values of our dear community at the forefront of your mind.” 

You leaned towards George’s shoulder, whispering shakily to him, “Baby, I don’t feel too well.” 

He glanced at you briefly before the mayor drew his attention with a call of his name. 

“George Russell,”

Your forehead slumped against his shoulder blade, “I wanna go home.”

George shifted to let you lean on his shoulder and your arm naturally wrapped pleadingly around his, warmed by the blinding light of the spotlight. 

The mayor was unphased by your obvious distress as he continued addressing your husband directly, “it is with great pride that I would like to offer you a position with some of us in headquarters. It will come with more responsibility but I’m sure the pay increase will be beneficial when it comes to any little additions to your family.”

George’s attention was torn between this surprise news of an offered promotion and the way that you were nearly limp against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you protectively but his gaze was still politely focused on the stage. 

“I really want to go home.” you repeated shakily to him. 

Your friends were oblivious, too excited about the proper announcement that was now given to the man it was directed towards under the blinding lights of the decorated ballroom. You felt faint. 

“What do you say, George?” the mayor asked loudly, his voice booming across the spacious ballroom. “Will you live up to the kind of man we know you can be?”

“George.” you whispered pleadingly, too out of it to even really know what was going on. “Please, can we go?” 

George glanced at you briefly before looking back up to the stage and the expectant faces of his co-workers and mayor. He nodded to him quickly, “Yes, thank you. I would love to accept the offer.” 

The crowd broke into applause and with the chaos that it brought, George turned to you quickly and grabbed your purse from the table before standing up. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.” 

He helped you out of your chair as the spotlight drifted elsewhere across the bustling party and your friends gave you odd stares at your sudden change and out-of-character distress. George, riddled with worry, wrapped his arm around your waist protectively and led you towards the exit doors of the ballroom, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears and you clamped your hands over them to block out the noise. 

Once out in the crisp evening air, you were stumbling across the pavement and George was pulling you to a stop to look at him. Hands trembling, you pushed your hair out of your face and kept your gaze downcast in near shame. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” George asked, rubbing your bare arms with his warm hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” you said shakily. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George brushed your apology off easily, “What’s wrong?” 

“I dunno…it just…was stuffy in there and overwhelming…I don’t feel too good.” you sniffled and he pulled you in for a gentle hug. With your arms tucked around your middle shyly, he held you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. You didn’t want to complain but you were still not feeling much better and you stood back from him again, holding a trembling hand to your mouth, “I feel so gross, George, can we please go home?” 

“Yes, my love, of course.” George took your arm and gently guided you towards the car. 

He opened the door for you and helped you in and even buckled your seatbelt for you before he shut the door and rushed around to the other side to get behind the wheel. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your seat, the world still slightly spinning around you. 

George turned the key and pulled away from the curb, “Did it come on this fast?”

You nodded, working up the courage to speak your response, “Felt really tired today and then dizzy while we were in the bathroom but…”

When your body made you lurch and you pressed your hand to your mouth, George’s wide eyes looked over at you. 

“Tell me to pull over if you need me to.” he instructed gently. 

You nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled. 

He reached over to set a comforting hand on your thigh, “Please don’t be sorry.” 

The street lamps of your perfect little community whizzed past your window as George hurried towards home, his gaze constantly flicking over to you from the street ahead just to make sure you were good. It was odd the way you so quickly felt sick and it honestly made him quite nervous, wondering what had happened to trigger such obvious illness within you in such a short period of time. 

It didn’t take long to get home since your neighbourhood wasn’t very large and George had barely put the car in park before you were tossing off your seatbelt and climbing out of your seat in a rush. George didn’t even turn off the car before he was hurrying after you towards the porch where you caught yourself on the white painted pillar and threw up in the garden. He was right behind you as you sputtered distastefully, pulling your hair away from your face for you as the nausea came over you again and you threw up for a second time right into your rosebush. 

“Oh my-“ you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand. 

George hushed you comfortingly as you let out a little sob and he turned you to face him so he could easily pull you into a warm hug. You ducked your face in his neck, embarrassed, and your shaking hands grasped onto the back of his suit jacket to hold onto him comfortingly. 

“Let’s get you inside and into bed, okay?” he whispered to you, stroking your hair with a gentle hand that rubbed down your back. 

You nodded and sniffled and stepped away from him so he could hurry and turn the car off, gather your purse, and then return to your side to help you inside. Your spotless house greeted you warmly when George flicked on the lights but once glimpse at the kitchen had you panicked again. 

“We didn’t even get to eat. You must be starving-“

“I’m okay.” George assured you quickly, steering you towards the hallway so he could take you to bed, “I can find something for us. Are you hungry at all?”

“Maybe a little.” you answered softly. 

“Okay,” George pulled back the perfectly tucked bedsheets on your side of the bed and sat you down carefully, “I’ll get you into bed and maybe warm up some soup.” 

“Okay.” you breathed. 

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you lifted your arms up so he could pull it over your head. 

“I wanted us to have a nice night.” you mumbled sadly. 

“Hey,” George took your chin in his hand gently to get you to look at him, “I kinda enjoyed myself when we were there, did you not?” 

A little smile pricked at the corner of your mouth at his implication and you nodded slightly in agreement, “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled proudly back at you, your dress draped over his arm, and he reached behind you again to unclip your bra. He undressed you carefully and then helped you to shuffle into one of his sweatshirts. 

“I ruined your promotion.” you sighed sadly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George assured you, gently untying the ribbon from your hair, as his voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s just a job…it’s barely a job. You know that.” 

“Yeah.” you said, “Although it’s nice that you’re being recognized. Makes this all a little easier.” 

George didn’t answer you for a second, his gentle hands stroking through your hair to smooth it down over your shoulders. When you looked up at him at his lack of response, he appeared deep in thought. 

“What is it?” you frowned. 

“Do you think you should take a pregnancy test, darling?” he asked softly. 

You almost scoffed, “What for?”

“Because you’ve been really tired and dizzy and you just threw up in our garden?” 

You bit lightly at your bottom lip and dropped your gaze to your lap. George’s fingers still danced through your hair as he stood in front of you, letting you decide on your answer for yourself. 

“I don’t think I could deal with it being negative.” you whispered to the carpet. “I can’t deal with that anymore and especially not here. I’ll fucking lose it.” 

George’s thumbs caressed your cheeks and he crouched down in front of you so you could look at him, taking your hands in his, “I know you want this more than anything but that’s the reason why we came here, remember? To have what we always wanted? You keep psyching yourself up about this like we’re still at home that you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it and think of the positives of what could be. We have this whole opportunity for us and I don’t want anything to hold us back from living this life that has been built for us.”

You nodded. 

George brought your joined hands to his mouth and he kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off your downcast gaze and he whispered against your soft skin, “Please take a test?” 

You sniffled and lifted your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Please?” George said softly, pausing to kiss your hand again, “I’ll be right here.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and you shyly met his gaze, feeling warm butterflies in your stomach by the way the man you loved stared at you. It was obvious that he loved you more than life itself and you felt the exact same right back. With a moment's thought, you nodded and breathed out a barely audible, “Okay.” 

George honestly smiled and he stood up again, pausing just long enough to kiss your head before he was hurrying into the ensuite and pulled open the bottom cabinet, “Okay!”

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down since your anxiety started to bubble up more in your chest. Still in a full face of makeup, smudging was the least of your concerns at that moment and you focused on deep breathing and keeping your tears at bay. 

George returned to his spot in front of you and he held out the pregnancy test to you. You could see how excited and impatient he was - even if he tried to tone it down for your sake - and the thought of having to tell him it was yet another negative made your throat feel like razor blades. Every time it completely broke your heart. He was so strong. This was your last resort. You had given up everything for this one last chance. 

You took the unopened test from him and felt the weight of it in your hands for a moment, staring down at the blank screen. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked thoughtfully. 

“Can you come in with me?” your voice was shaking. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” George stepped to the side and let you get up from the side of the bed.

You were less dizzy and nauseous but still terribly tired and he followed you closely into the bathroom just to make sure you were steady…and for your emotional support. He sat up on the bathroom counter as you shuffled your panties down and helped yourself to the toilet, holding the test between your legs while your singular evening party drink went right through you. 

You couldn’t remember what number test this was that you had taken and although it was the first since moving into this perfect little paradise of a community, the memory of your past experiences never faded. Your mind whirled with thoughts of the worst…if the alcohol in your recent drink would mess up the results, if you just had a sickness and that’s why you felt so strange all day, if you were too far lost for even a utopian community to save you and your dream.

The test was re-capped and George took it from you to rinse off while you cleaned yourself up and flushed. You wanted to be as far away from it as possible and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed while George checked the time on his watch, test resting on the counter patiently. 

“Three minutes.” George said, following after you back into the bedroom. “Do you need anything? Some water maybe?” 

“No thank you.” you mumbled. 

He hesitated in front of you. 

“I’m going to get you some water.”

“George-”

He was already half out the bedroom door, “Be right back!”

He couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t move.

From the distant kitchen, you could hear him whistling that same tune that had been stuck in your head for ages but you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. Your leg bounced restlessly off the side of the bed, unknowing of the time, and you awaited your husband's return. He was so selfless. He was so good. 

Soon, he was returning quickly and he passed you a glass of water; always one to stay busy. You sipped a bit of it to humour him and despite the fact that your mouth was terribly dry, you did not want to drink. You almost felt sick again. Not wanting to go through the discomfort of throwing up again, you clenched your lips shut and stared at the carpet, trying to keep yourself calm. 

George checked his watch. 

You held out your glass to him as if by instinct and started to get up. 

“You should drink more, love-”

“I’m gonna be sick again.” you hurried out as you pushed past him into the ensuite. 

Dropping to your knees at the toilet, you threw up loudly, struggling to hold back your tears. George set your glass on the counter and crouched behind you to comfort you by pulling your hair from your face as your body had you lurching to throw up again. He rubbed your back and your shoulders and hummed that silly little tune quietly to try and help calm you down. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled weakly. 

“Stop apologizing.” he tisked, following you onto the ground as you slumped from your knees onto your bum. You leaned back against his chest and he flushed the toilet for you before wrapping you up in his arms lovingly, pressing tender kisses to your head. “Through sickness and health, remember?”

You let a small smile come to your lips at the faint memory of the quaint English church in the countryside, the gentle organ playing, and George standing before you at the altar with his hands holding yours. It felt like so long ago as if the essence of time was skewed in your mind. In a way, it really was. Life was so different now but you both were sure this would be better…be worth the end of what once was to find your new beginning together. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” he promised into your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” you sighed. 

He gave your hands a squeeze, “Think you can stand and we can take a look at this test of ours?”

You bit nervously at your bottom lip, “You look at it.” 

“You don’t want to look at it with me?”

You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Can I help you off the floor first at least?”

You permitted him to stand up and he slowly helped you up onto wobbly legs and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you watched as he returned to the bathroom counter directly in your line of vision. He took one last glance at you before he was picking up the pregnancy test from the counter and flipping it over to read it, not giving himself a moment to second guess himself. 

You struggled to read his expression as he read the result; his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a soft pout. You were waiting for the news you had grown all too used to. He wasn’t saying anything and you certainly didn’t want to be the first one to speak. 

George little sniffle had your heart racing with anxiety, making you near positive that it was yet another negative. He looked over at you from the ensuite, bathed in the surrounding artificial light in his tuxedo with his gelled hair falling out of place, and his soft pout was unmissable. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 

You sat frozen in place, aching for him to just rip off the bandaid, “What?”

“You’re pregnant.” he breathed, his voice breaking. 

It felt as though the air was knocked from your lungs. You blinked at him, “What?”

George broke into a grin and he nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms before taking another look at the test. He let out a wet chuckle at the result that stared back at him, “Holy shit.”

“Bring it here.” you ordered, almost panicking in disbelief. 

George joined you on the side of the bed and you grabbed the test from him, almost glaring down at it in your hand. The screen revealed two pink lines, one just a little more faded than the other but still clearly visible to the naked eye. 

“See it?” George pointed to it as if you couldn’t see it yourself. “It’s so clear.” 

Your mouth opened as if to say something but no words came out. No words felt adequate at that moment. Opening and closing your mouth like a clueless fish, you felt dizzy with emotional overwhelm. 

“You’re pregnant, baby.” George rehashed it to you sweetly with a smile as he rubbed his hand over your back, “You have a little us growing inside you right now.” 

You couldn’t tear your wide eyes away from the positive test in your hand, stumbling over your next breath as you struggled to hold back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overtake you. The air felt lighter and you gasped for relief, letting it out with a sob to your bedroom walls. 

“Oh God.” you cried tears of joy, your trembling hands clutching the positive test in your two handed grip and you pulled it to your chest. 

George embraced you right away, pulling you close with happy tears of his own. You turned towards him lovingly and rested your head on his shoulder with your face tucked in his neck, letting him hold you just like that, basking in the relief that was felt by the both of you. Your tears dripped onto the fabric of his tuxedo jacket even as you held open your palms again to get another look at those two pink lines. George kissed your temple proudly. 

“I love you.” he whispered shakily. 

“I love you.” you sniffled and finally turned to look him in the eye. 

Through your tears, you shared quivering grins and he reached a hand up to caress your cheek and then pulled you in for a wet chasté kiss. Both of you were smiling into your kisses but you couldn’t get enough and the love that swelled in your heart was almost overpowering, forcing you to grab onto his tie and really hold his lips on yours. Your tear streaked cheeks pressed together moistly and your kisses tasted faintly of those salty tears you shared but the warm happiness that burned within the two of you was enough to overtake even the darkest of days. 

You broke your kiss only to stare down at the confirmation you held in your hands, your palms delicately supporting the proof of your destiny. Sniffling as your tears slowed, you leaned against your husband who never once left your side, letting his fingers brush your hair over your shoulder so he could lean in beside you cheek to cheek.

“It was all worth it.” he said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “I knew this would be good for us.” 

You nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, noting your silence. 

You looked back at him with a calm smile and lifted a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and rest his forehead against yours, “So happy. And finally so at peace.”

“Good.” George whispered. “You deserve nothing less.”

“We’re finally gonna have our family, George.” you smiled sweetly, “You and me. What we’ve been waiting so long for.” 

He swallowed you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly and so lovingly that you swore you never felt the heat of his love pass onto you as strongly before as it did in that moment. You felt as light as air and you melted into him happily, a peaceful smile on your face as you held onto him and let a content tune hum pleasantly from your lips. 

The egg sizzled as it hit the bottom of the hot skillet, the kitchen filled with warm morning sunlight and the smell of cooking breakfast and brewing coffee that lured George from down the hall to join you. In only his work slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, he made you his priority over getting dressed, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and dipped his shaved face into your neck. 

His hands glided softly under the hem of his sweatshirt you wore to feel the smooth skin of your still generally flat stomach, “Good morning, mommy.” 

You grinned to the stovetop at the reminder of the long-awaited news you had found out the night before and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to guide his lips to yours for a soft kiss. With his thumbs rubbing lovingly over your warm skin, you melted happily into him, “Good morning, daddy.”

Purely innocent and bursting with love for your family of two that would soon be made three, you shared a few more lingering kisses that made your heart swell. 

“You sure you feel up to making breakfast?” George asked softly with one more caress to your stomach and a kiss to your neck. 

“Yeah.” you assured him easily. “I like making you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling so much better.” 

George kissed your temple and then slid away from you to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board where it was left in the living room as it was every morning. 

“Newspaper is already on the table.” you told him as he buttoned up his shirt on his way back over to you. “Your promotion made the front page.”

Living in such a small tight-knit community, there wasn’t much to report upon which only made George’s promotion big news. Front page worthy. He stopped at his usual spot at the kitchen island and glanced down at the newspaper as he tied his tie around his neck under the collar of his freshly ironed white shirt. Pausing to take a bite of toast from the plate that you had set beside the newspaper, he chewed as he straightened out his tie, still skimming the article. 

“I don’t know what’s the big deal.” he spoke through his mouthful, “Not like it’s a real promotion.” 

“Well, not everyone knows that.” you answered calmly, still tending to the bacon and eggs on the stove. 

“I guess.” George flipped to the next page before reaching for his mug for a sip of the steaming coffee that you had poured him. 

“We’re lucky to even be here under these circumstances. The other wives don’t know a thing.” 

George glanced up at you, knowing your conversation was treading towards dangerous territory surrounding the topic that was to be completely silenced under your discretion. You weren’t wrong, however, and thus it allowed you to be the one couple in the community that could freely speak to it - so long as you were completely alone and out of earshot of anyone else. 

“Does it scare you?” George asked. 

You plated the bacon and eggs and merely shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t know their stories or why they’re here…what exactly led them to be a part of this without their knowledge. I can only hope that the husbands did it for the right reasons.” 

Your two plates clinked gently against the island countertop as you set them between you. 

“Besides,” you continued, “all I need to worry about is you and me. And our baby.” 

George broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

“I know that we’re here for the right reasons.” you rubbed your hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, staring adoringly into his soft blue eyes.

“And that’s all that matters,” he agreed. “You and me.”

“You and me.” you nodded, pulling his lips on yours for another quick kiss. “And baby.”

“And baby.” he whispered happily. “Still so crazy…going to have to get used to that.” 

“I know.” you fed him a piece of bacon, “It’s only been months and months of trying and waiting.” 

“Are you going to start telling people today?”

“Should I?”

“If you want to.”

You took a bite of bacon for yourself, staring back at him with a sweet smile you couldn’t hold back, “Okay. Maybe I will.” 

Breakfast was eaten in close proximity, taking second rank of importance behind lovable kisses and whispers of excitement and adoration for each other and your growing family. George took one more piece of bacon for the road before he was grabbing his lunch tin and you were following him to the front door to say your goodbyes. 

“I really don’t want you to go.” you whispered, standing in the warm morning light of the foyer with your arms around his waist as he shrugged on his jacket. 

“I know, darling.” George smiled sadly. “But now more than ever it’s imperative that I go every day.”

“I know.” you sighed. “I love you for that.”

George held your face in his hands and pulled your lips to his for a brief kiss before telling you honestly, “I hate leaving.”

“I know.”

You shared another kiss as he insisted, “It’s the worst.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s scary sometimes.” 

“I know.” you leaned into him to capture his lips with yours in a lingering chasté kiss. 

He sighed into it through his nose, gently sliding his hands from your face down your shoulders and arms, and as he broke your kiss, he guided your hands out from around his waist. You laced your fingers together lazily between you and kissed him once more. 

“We’ll be waiting.” you promised. 

George’s melancholy expression pricked into a smile and he took one hand from yours to dust over the front of the sweatshirt you wore and then dip under the hem, caressing your warm skin lovingly. 

“Can’t wait until you start showing.” 

“Me neither.” you gushed, holding up your sweater for him as you both stared down at what was to become your baby, fingers of your other hands still linked together. 

George sunk down onto his knees and he gently slid his hands around your waist to press warmly against your back to pull you close. He dusted a sweet kiss to your stomach, right under your belly button, caressing your skin with his gentle loving hands, and you would have absolutely swooned. 

“Bye bye, my little one. Be good to mummy today.”

As he stood up, he gave you a smooth kiss next that you were both smiling into. 

“I love you.” you grinned adoringly. 

“I love you.” he promised, his eyes skimming across your make-up free face as if you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you breathed, letting him slip away from you and out the front door. 

You stood on the porch and waved him goodbye as he pulled the car out of the driveway and made his daily drive down your street among the line of fellow men as they journeyed to work together in a single file line.

George whistled happily in his car as the morning breeze took him to the outskirts of the neighbourhood and towards the vast desert landscape that framed your little oasis. With one arm resting on the open window beside him, he coasted in the steady lineup of cars that navigated towards the highly confidential headquarters where all the local men were to report for work at precisely 9am every morning. He hated leaving you but only more so now that you had both found out that you were finally expecting. On the other hand, it only proved to himself that his responsibility to attend his daily expectations was of the utmost importance. 

As the glass structure atop the desert mountains grew closer on his approach, his car radio crackled to life with the expected daily recording. 

“All male citizens on route to headquarters. Schedule is one time.” 

George absolutely dreaded the idea of leaving you but he had a duty to withhold that allowed you to live your life together in your ideal oasis that was already starting to give you everything you ever wanted. So he took the drive without complaint as the road turned into the steep mountainous climb towards the building overseeing the guarded little castaway town. 

The radio spoke again with the voice of the mayor, “Security risk is low. All units expected to pass without fault. Arriving at the gate in 3…2…1-”

George’s chest gasped for air as his vision burst from light into the darkness that surrounded him, staring up into the dizzying patterns of light that were projected onto the ceiling above. He reached towards his face and carefully removed the metal clamps from his eye sockets and blinked feverishly a few times as the moisture re-settled over his irises. The wavering sound of white noise that filled the darkened room was almost invisible to him now and as he sat himself up in the bed and stretched his arms over his head and twisted his spine until it cracked in relief, he was unbothered by it. 

On his left, laying flat beside him, you laid peacefully, staring at the ceiling. The same clamps that he had been wearing also kept your eyes open, staring blankly up to the dark ceiling and the projection of light patterns that kept you stagnant. George shifted to face you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your pale cheek and caress your arm with the back of his finger. 

“I’m here, love.” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m still right here with you.”

Leaving you in place, he slowly got up from the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold wood floor beneath him as he opened the blackout curtains that framed the bed. The room was still pitch black outside of the canopy bed thanks to the extra safety barrier of curtains that covered each drafty window. You couldn’t be too safe. 

The floorboards creaked under George’s every step as he navigated the bedroom like he would every weekday and he pulled open the curtains from over one of the corner windows, allowing the room to be illuminated sufficiently by the morning sun. His eyes burned as the stream of bright light came flooding in and he rubbed his eyes with his fists as he once again became adjusted to the reality that surrounded him. 

The sunlight guided him to the nearby dust filled table in the corner of the room where he nudged a few of the dated newspapers and magazines to the side, ignoring the way the oldest copy of the Daily Mirror peeked out from the bottom of the pile with a headline that he always avoided looking at and yet couldn’t stomach throwing away. 

MAN & WOMAN DEAD IN TRAGIC DUAL SUICIDE

Your wedding picture was printed in black and white just below. 

George flipped open his notebook and sat down on the rickey wooden chair to write the date at the top of the fresh page and then recorded his physical status. He took his height, weight, heart-rate, and blood pressure and then did the same for you - all but weight - as you laid limpy on the bed. He scribbled the numbers down carefully and made sure to check you twice just to make sure everything was as it should be - especially since you were now in such delicate condition back in your perfect oasis. He couldn’t afford a single thing to go wrong. You were counting on him after all. 

“Perfect numbers today, darling.” George whispered to you as he closed his notebook and capped his pen, returning them both to the messy table across the room. 

Having been in only his boxers, George grabbed a folded sweatshirt from the bin under the table and pulled it on to brave against the chilly Scottish air that helped itself through the beams of the worn log cabin otherwise protecting you from the elements. He stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway to the quaint and virtually untouched kitchen and living room area. The well water collection from Monday still sat on the counter and he scooped himself a glass of water to rehydrate for a moment as he took in the scenic views through the large tinted windows. 

Miles of lush forest sprawled in all directions for as far as he could see and after so long, he had started to forget which way was north or even which way civilization was. The Scottish highlands and forests were your only protection. Sometimes he wished you were able to watch the sunrise with him over the mountain peaks ever again but he had to force himself to stop missing what could be and focus on what now is. Your life was perfect together. Just you and him. 

Never permitted to set foot outside the cabin, George took the stairs down to the cellar and patted barefoot across the stone floor in the dark until he reached the sliver of light that peeked through the cellar door from outside. Hidden beneath the shallow stairs that led to the fresh air, a grey bin sat in the pitch black.

George knew the routine well so his eyes didn’t need time to focus as he crouched under the stairs and shuffled through the bin in the dark. The rustle of grocery bags drew his hands in and he lifted them up and out of the hiding spot to take back upstairs. He only reached back in for the final item - a small bouquet of flowers still wrapped in cellophane from the store. 

With a soft smile on his face, George took his time returning to the kitchen and he set his delivery on the stone countertop. The first bag contained a few food items for him such as non-perishable canned beans, peas, and cooked pastas in tomato sauce as well as a new bar of soap, a razor, and a few more similar necessities. The second bag contained a sealed medical kit in which George found needles, gause, tape, and rubbing alcohol. The medical bag of clear liquid was carefully wrapped in a clean towel alongside it. 

George organized the supplies into piles and then lifted up the bouquet of flowers again, pulling down the cellophane slightly to get a good look at the mix of brightly-colored tulips, peonies, roses, and hydrangeas nestled in a halo of baby's breath and greenery. He raised it to his nose to take a deep inhale, savouring the heavenly scent of fresh flowers. 

The card that was nestled within the flowers called his attention and he opened the little blank envelope to pull out the message inside. 

Happy anniversary 🤍

He always requested weekly flowers from his sister in order to keep some sense of romantic normalcy in your changing lives together but her little sneaky addition of the card brought a tearful smile to his face. He had almost forgotten your anniversary among the strange twists of life and time. Life in your new home was different than in the physical world…both in reality and the linear flow of time. He would have to make a point to buy you something in the shops on his drive back to your shared home that evening. 

But the generosity of his older sister never went unnoticed and he thanked the stars that he turned to her to keep your biggest secret. You had allowed George to choose the one person who would be your supplier for virtually the rest of your lives in hiding since he would be the one between the two of you who would return to the real world almost daily. It wasn’t a small ask to have her be the only person in the world to know your whereabouts and your story - to hide that from your families and friends as they grieved what they thought was your tragic and sudden death - but she was your most trustworthy and safest bet. Her devotion to her brother and you - her sister-in-law - was monumental and she managed to deliver the necessities to your secret hideaway twice a week like clockwork. George never knew how he would ever repay her. 

George took his time freshening up with the water from the well, sparingly rinsing himself off with soap and a washcloth before shaving over the bone dry bathroom sink to get the best look he could of himself in the grimy and cracked mirror. Even if you would never see him in person again, he always wanted to look his best for you. 

Then it was your turn and he took the bags back to your bedroom and set up the chair at your bedside to tend to you. You were laying perfectly still in your nightgown on the sturdy mattress with your ankles bound to the footboard and your arms resting at your sides. The IV needle was taped gently into your forearm and the bag hung on the metal pole just beside the bed, allowing a slow but steady drip of calorie-rich medicated liquid to keep your body fed and nourished while you laid in your stagnant state. 

George first replaced the flowers in the vase beside your bed, removing the week-old ones for the fresh ones that had been delivered by his sister. He refilled their water and arranged them nicely and spoke to you quietly about how nice they looked and how pretty they smelled. 

With washed hands and wearing medical gloves just to be extra cautious, George gently pulled the tape away from your skin and twisted off the IV drip from the needle that stayed nestled in your forearm. He wiped the area with rubbing alcohol to disinfect it and then retaped the needle in place. As he worked, he thought back to your conversation that morning and tried to imagine where the other husbands were at that moment and how they could tend to their wives like this without their consent. It nearly made George sick to think about that - about the possibility of having the one you loved most trapped there under his control for who knows how long simply for his own gain. That’s what made you and George different. You were in it together. You were in it for each other. 

With another clean cloth and the bar of soap, George gently washed down your body and rinsed you off the best he could, tending to you lovingly. He brushed your hair and your teeth and made sure you were lying comfortably even if you couldn’t feel anything. Leaning over you cautiously, he dropped a few eye drops into your still eyes to keep them moist as they were being held open by the metallic clamps. 

He then pulled out the new medical bag from the delivery from his sister and replaced it on the IV pole. He screwed in a fresh tube into the bottom of the bag and then attached the other end to the needle in your arm, double checking to make sure the drip was steady and as it should be. You only deserved the most precise treatment. 

To pass the day and keep an eye on you, he helped himself to a can of beans that he opened with a dull knife and hid the rest of the food stock away under the table in the bedroom. He sat at your bedside and ate quietly, keeping an eye on you and the IV as the minutes passed in the silence. 

When the food was done, George collected all of his garbage and any sign of life from the kitchen to hide away in an empty grocery bag in the bedroom until he would have to place it in the cellar bin for his sister to retrieve at her next stop-over. He locked the bedroom door behind him and returned to your bedside, straightening up the vase on your nightstand and he gently picked up the white music box beside it. The lid was topped with a baby blue decal of a sleeping puppy and framed in little stars and George smiled softly down at it as he turned it around in his hands to crank the tiny handle at the bottom. 

He had purchased it years ago when you were first trying for a baby, back when life was simple but the weight of its burdens rested heavy on your shoulders. Back then, it all seemed hopeful and exciting as newlyweds wanting to expand your family and George couldn’t help but buy something to surprise you on the eventual day you would find out you were pregnant. He never ended up being able to gift it to you but it stayed with him the whole time and found its rightful place in this cabin with you while you gave up your lives for your ultimate dream. 

When the music box was fully primed, he delicately turned it back around in his hands and opened the lid, letting the familiar gentle tune fill your otherwise silent cabin. He had shamefully played it a few times before when he would find himself alone during the days and waiting beside your still body just like that, maybe to hope for some sort of promise that things would work out. He never knew you could subconsciously hear him during the days when he left to tend to you like that but he found comfort in it too. Neither of you were ever truly alone. 

The soft tune played softly from the nursery music box and George helped himself to his side of the bed alongside you, resting back against the pillows to stare at you just a little longer in the patterned lights that were projected to the ceiling of your canopy bed. Soon, he would be called back by the passing of time to return to your true presence in your perfect little paradise with your growing dream tucked safely inside you. 

[cobrakaisb]

end of beginning

summary: you’re back at camp half-blood after spending months on the princess andromeda and all you feel is the haunting of luke’s presence

featuring: SPOILERS for BOTL and TLO!!!, brief spoilers for the outsiders (just mentions of a quote from the book), 3+1, multi-pov: reader, luke, and percy, angst and only angst (i cried a little while writing)

word count: 2.4k

author’s note:guys, the end is near. there’s one blurb, and then the post heroes of olympus fic. so crazyyyyyy

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

connor and travis stoll

the hustle and bustle of the city was a nice contrast from the stifling loneliness at camp half-blood. most people wouldn’t describe the hidden oasis buried between the forest and long island sound that way. they’d talk about the camaraderie between cabins, or the sense of family within their own. maybe they’d emphasize the humidity, and the temperature controlled barrier which prevented major storms or severe weather. then again people like clarisse and annabeth, those with a warrior mindset, wouldn’t feel the cloak of loneliness as they’re too busy with clashing swords and grunts of pain characteristic only to the training arena. 

none of those things, however, were pertinent to you. so, when connor and travis invited you to the farmer’s market to sell the overflow of camp strawberries, you jumped at the chance to escape. 

“i can’t believe we made it here in one piece,” connor exclaims, closing the door to the van once it's in park. 

“hey! i needed to practice my driving at some point,” travis defends, meeting you and connor at the back doors. 

while the boys argue back and forth about who’s the better driver — you or travis — you start unloading the cartons of strawberries. the farmers market is already starting to get busy. between other vendors setting up their booths and the diehard organic hippies already perusing the options, it seems like today will be an eventful day. 

and you were right. 

your eyes catch on someone lurking a couple booths over from yours. the guy is tall and wearing a leather jacket, so he sticks out like a sore thumb while sifting through the oranges in front of him. you squint in his direction. he looks vaguely familiar but you can’t place it. he must feel someone staring, because he turns to face you. you gasp at the sight of him, dropping the small carton of strawberries in your hand. 

“you okay?” connor asks, approaching you. 

you shake your head, crouching down to pick up the berries before they get squished under someone’s birkenstocks. connor is right beside you, speeding up the process. you can’t help it when your eyes drift back to the direction where you saw luke, but the person is gone. 

you let out a sigh of relief, “sorry, had a moment of clumsiness there.” 

connor nods in understanding, “all good. besides, i wouldn’t expect anything less from you since i’m around. i know my good looks and charming personality make you nervous.” 

you laugh loudly at his words, shoving his shoulder before he can walk away to discard the ruined berries. 

annabeth chase

“the bookstore is just down this way,” annabeth exclaims, sipping on her drink from the cafe. 

you nod, mustering a smile as you follow her lead. when annabeth asked you to visit her over spring break, you were hesitant, but she was insistent. there was a lot of history between the two of you, most of it revolving around your traitor boyfriend, but neither of you mentioned it. and whenever the subject did get brought up, one of you quickly changed it. 

“they have so many books. and i think there’s even a record section too,” she explains, pointing toward the quaint bookshop on the corner of a street in san francisco 

the awning is a faded emerald green, and the white letters detailing the store’s name are barely legible. but you can tell that it’s well loved. there’s a large bay window where a young mother and her children are sitting, flipping through a picture book with a pig and elephant character. you stop in your tracks for a minute, letting annabeth get a couple steps ahead of you. 

that could’ve been us, you think, twirling the golden band around your finger three times. it should’ve been us. 

“you okay?” annabeth asks, stopping at the base of the three cement steps. 

you nod, taking one more fleeting glance at the little family, “fine. just lost in thought i guess. you think they’ll have a copy of the outsiders?” 

“probably. maybe in the young adult section,” she answers, opening the door. 

a bell chimes overhead, and the middle-aged woman behind the counter greets her warmly. annabeth stops to talk with her, while you hover awkwardly. it’s so clear to you that she’s built a life for herself, one outside of camp half-blood and her demigod status. she laughs at something the woman says, and you almost feel jealous of the fourteen year old. she’s lost so much, yet she has so much more. you can’t say the same. 

there’s no one else for you. he was the one. you’ve always known that, even aphrodite confirmed that a long time ago, claiming that you two were one of her favorites. that never seems to work out though does it? her favorite couples always ending in a tragedy: romeo and juliet, orpheus and eurydice, liam neeson and natasha richardson, and now you and luke. 

you won’t get a happy ending, that you’re sure of. 

“you didn’t have to wait, i would’ve found you,” annabeth appears, startling you. 

you wonder how long she’s been there — how long you've been staring off into space. looking down at her, you meet her inquisitive gray eyes. she’s trying to get a read on you, but you don’t want her to; it’s not what either of you need. 

you grip her shoulder, the one without the tote bag, and say, “let’s go find the outsiders.”

she nods, but somehow you know the conversation isn’t over as she leads you down the aisle. the store is fairly quiet, not many shoppers except for the family, a group of college students, and the two of you so it’s easy to navigate. the young adult section is even emptier, but it still makes you feel claustrophobic. the smell of books and the thick tension is suffocating you. the teen must feel the same way, because she’s the first to break it after picking up a book. 

“you don’t need to feel guilty. i don’t blame you,” she whispers.

you gulp at her words, tugging on your baby tee as you pretend to pull off a string. 

“neither does percy, or anyone else at camp,” she finishes. 

you nod, picking up a copy of the outsiders. the cover is black and white, featuring a photo of a boy in a leather jacket. his face is turned downwards, but you see him clear as day: brown eyes and a white scar. 

“you know what i like about this book?” you ask, but the question’s rhetorical.

“i like johnny’s take on the world. there’s so much good in it, but we get so caught up in the bad that we forget…we forget how beautiful it is,” you say, choking on your words as tears well up in your eyes. 

“i think he forgot that too,” you whisper, and you don’t need to specify who you’re referring to, annabeth just knows. 

she throws her arms around you, squeezing your abdomen tightly. you close your eyes, struggling to hold back the tears, but a few drip down your cheeks anyways. you sniffle, and she squeezes you even tighter. when she pulls away, you look over her shoulder. you swear you meet brown eyes and a white scar. 

may castellan

luke hated westport. everyone there was the same, entitled, stuck up, and selfish. all the houses stood in a line. each one an exact replica of the one before it: pocket white fence, pristine green lawn, and a faded blue siding. his house, or rather his mother’s house, was no different. 

everything looked exactly the same as when he returned at fourteen. her kitchen window looked over the front yard and main road. he can picture her standing there, washing dishes and mumbling unanswered prayers to a god who never cared. he hates how easily she fell victim to him and he hates how emotional it makes him. 

at same time, there’s something different about his childhood home. a place that should have been filled with love, warmth, and happiness no longer harbors the coldness and terror he always associated with his childhood. somehow, the house feels more homey. there’s a floral wreath hanging on the wooden door, hidden behind the screen. he spots a vase of sunflowers on the kitchen windowsill; their bright yellow petals starkly contrasting the darkness inside. the house almost looks lived in. if a neighbor were to walk by, they would never guess it’s inhabited by a crazy person. luke would never guess that, especially with the beat-up red pickup parked out front. 

wait, he thinks, doing a double take. 

he’s seen that red pickup before, but he can’t figure out where. he looks at the license plate, hoping that will give him a clue into the owner. it’s navy blue and yellow, a clear sign that it’s from new york and that alone makes luke think of you. 

he’s come to visit a couple times, and each time he’s almost gotten caught. at the farmers market with connor and travis it was pure luck that he startled you into dropping the berries. when he showed up to talk to annabeth, it was a coincidence that you were there too. (it’s not like he had silena beauregard keeping tabs on you or anything.) but even if he did, hypothetically have her reporting back to him about your every move, he never expected you to be at his mom’s house. 

the front door opens, and he can hear your voice ring out into the stillness of the neighborhood: “i’ll be back later this week, okay may?”

“shit,” he seethes, crouching down behind one of the neighbor’s suvs. 

he hears a commotion in the house, and watches as you wait patiently at the door. his mother must say something to you, because you smile softly and nod your head. he wishes he could hear her words, but he knows you’ll catch him with one move. 

that’s not necessarily a bad thing, says a small voice inside his head. 

he shakes his head at those words, curls bouncing from the action. he runs a hand through his hair, frustration and anger building up inside him. he ruined this, not you. and no matter what he truly wants, luke knows there’s nothing he can do to win you back. 

the creaking of the wooden porch stairs and slam of the screen door draw his attention back to what’s right in front of him. it takes a bitter laugh out of him; ironic how he’s longed for your proximity and now that he has it he’s ignoring it. 

you freeze at the gate, left hand on the hinge and right on your ring. your eyes dart around the neighborhood, looking for the cause of the noise, but you never find him. he watches as you release the breath you’re holding and twirl the golden band three times. opening the gate, you step towards the truck.

he waits patiently, not daring to move a muscle until your car pulls away from his mother’s house. even then, when the engine is nothing but a faint rumble in the distance, he doesn’t move. he remains crouched behind the suv for a few extra minutes, gathering both his courage and sanity. with a final breath, he gets up, fixes his jacket and approaches the house. 

“mom,” he calls out, knocking on the door, “i’m home.”

the door swings open and her arms wrap around him. she smells faintly of burnt cookies, but it’s overpowered by shea butter and coconut shampoo. she’s crying into his shoulder, mumbling about how she always knew it wasn’t true; that wasn’t her son’s fate. 

but she has no idea, luke thinks, that i break everything i touch.

luke castellan

percy hears your scream before he sees you.

it’s loud, shrill, and gut-wrenching. his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach and bile climbs up his throat. 

i’m gonna be sick, he thinks.

percy faced a lot today. silena died. ethan died. annabeth almost died. now he’s stuck watching as you try to console luke.

you’re sitting beside him, bow and arrows haphazardly thrown to the side. there’s a cut on your shoulder caked with dry blood, and other bruises litter your body. he imagines that the pain from them is the least of your concerns. 

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay,” you keep whispering, cupping the older boy’s cheeks. 

luke grabs your left wrist, his thumb rubbing over your engagement ring. “i’m okay sweetheart. you’re gonna be okay.”

he approaches the two of you. it feels like he’s intruding on an intimate scene. percy feels a strange sense of deja vu when luke squeezes your wrist before returning his gaze to him. he wishes that he just caught the two of you sharing a vape instead of your final goodbye. 

“never again percy…don’t let it happen again,” luke croaks out. 

percy promises that he won’t, all while watching you. you bite your bottom lip, turning away from luke as you squeeze your eyes shut. he knows you're trying to be strong, but it doesn’t work as tears leak past your lash line and create tracks on your grimy face. 

“i love you,” luke whispers, and you echo the words right back. 

when his eyes close, percy swears that you’ll go with him, falling on top of annabeth’s dagger. but all you do is sit there, cradling luke’s face in your hands. you trace over his features: the bridge of his nose, his cupid’s bow, and the white scar. 

percy placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reaffirming squeeze. you sniffle, placing luke’s head down gently onto the destroyed cobblestone. your fingers brush his curls away from his forehead, and you unclasp the necklace resting against his collarbone. it’s a silver chain with three clay beads and a golden ring to match yours. you pocket the jewelry, and force a drachma in his hands. 

wiping your nose, you get up from the ground, collect your bow and arrows, and head towards the elevator. 

percy thinks he should call out to you, beg you to face the olympian council with him, but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“leave her. my daughter won’t be joining you percy jackson.”

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[semperamans]

goin' on a picnic with benny :'( it's one of those rare summer days when it's not sweltering outside so he rouses you from the bed, presses a kiss to your cheek and a swat to your ass as he tells you to get ready; he's takin' you somewhere. n'so you pretty yourself up in the bathroom, curl your lashes and coat your lips and rouge your cheeks and when you finish you follow the familiar bass of benny's singing to the kitchen :( he's got his back turned to you, head titled back to hit the high note and that's when he sees you and smiles and licks the knife free of peanut butter and moseys over to collect you in his arms :( "there's m'girl. y'ready?" and you say yes but then benny is worried, doesn't want your pretty blue dress to be all mussed from the bike, so he calls johnny, asks to borrow his car, and he says, and i quote, "anythin' for you two." such a sweet man, he is, and you tell him so as you press your lips to his cheek in thanks before sliding into the front seat. "treat our girl good, y'hear?" he tells benny and benny nods, smile on his face, ball cap pulled low over his brow :( you coast down familiar roads until you slowly begin to lose your bearings and then you're giggling like a mad woman because benny is going 60. 70. 80. 90 down old country backways, kicking up rocks and dirt and he's laughing - oh benny's laugh tangles into the twirl of the wind and caresses the sides of your face and seeps into the deepest pits of your soul and grows such beautiful things. the radio couldn't be any louder and you couldn't be any happier until you are because he tells you that "johnny'n i found this spot." he's parked beneath a massive oak tree with leaves that shiver at the sounds of his voice. "s'just a little meadow, but, i dunno - feels like somethin' you'd read in a storybook." and he's right. trees encircle this slice of paradise; this hidden oasis of lush green and flowering bulbs. benny grabs the basket from the backseat, a blanket, his jacket, and your hand leading you away away away through the wavering grasses. you get distracted, dashing off to pull dandelions so you can weave them into a crown and benny just watches, amazed that he's got a girl like you, so sweet and cute and his heart melts when you bring him a bundle of wildflowers as he situates the blanket on the ground. you spend the day immersed in one another; popping berries into one another's mouths and talking about the future and playing footsie and "why are you lookin' at me like that?" you ask, raising your brow at the boy who lays on his back before you. both hands fold behind his head, propping him up just so. "jus' think that god spent a little more time on you. had to. such a perfect girl." he leans up, taking one of your hands, tugging you softly because he knows you're gonna shy away. "gimmie some love. c'mere." and you do before the birds and the bees with no one as your witness but the racing overhead clouds.

[leaawrites]

can u write about noel going all out for your one year anniversary, can u write it all romantic and fluffy.. im yearning for lover boy gallagher

Lover Boy Gallagher

Noel Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Noel goes all out for their one year anniversary.

Warnings: a bit angst (sorry, can't help myself), swearing, established relationship, fluff, I hope this is how you imagined it!

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

The house was empty, like most days this time around. With the recording of their new album, all Oasis members were constantly in the studio and rarely anywhere else. Especially not home with their girlfriends or family.

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n assured Noel that she was fine with being home alone and that her time without him wouldn’t change the love she felt for him. She promised him that exactly a year ago and still held it to this day. Falling for him a bit more with every longing touch they shared when he finally arrived back in their bed late at night. The nights falling short for them both, when they remembered that Noel had to be in the studio the next day and Y/n had a job of her own.

Even with the house being empty, she still tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. For her, there were no expectations as to what Noel might’ve done for their anniversary, though she didn’t expect a lot. Maybe some flowers, a card at best. He was never the best at giving gifts, he knew what he wanted, but knowing what those around him wanted was most often not his strong suit, unless it was something were specific he’d see one day and just buy while waiting for the next opportunity to gift it to someone. If it wasn’t accidental or impulsive, it wouldn’t be much. The biggest present he gave her once for her birthday were a pair of shoes she’d wanted for quite some time already. He’d seen them in a store one day and bought them. Other times, it were just chocolates she’d receive from him.

Still, when she peaked into the living room and onto their dinner table, there was no trace that he even lived there, beside the usual empty coffee mugs or the shoes and coats at the front door. He hadn’t forgotten, had he? He surely hadn’t, Y/n tried to convince herself as she took the empty empty coffee mugs and put them in the sink to clean later. Settling on the sofa and turning the TV on, she thought back to what was hidden in her part of the closet, behind what seemed to be an endless row of dresses. One of them bought just for tonight. Maybe he’d take her out for dinner. A simple reservation could be made quickly with his connections, she thought.

She had noticed his absence, which seemed to be more apparent now than with the album before. Having been friends before, she knew how long he’d usually spent in the studio and how much time he used to spent with his other girlfriends. He was attentive at the beginning of their relationship, what would happen to them after already breaking apart in a year? How much further could they fall? She didn’t want to think about it, but in the quiet of their shared house, there was no around it at some point of the day. Were they truly meant to be like she always believed them to be? Was he truly the man worth fighting for even when her friends told her about all the amazing things their boyfriends - or even husbands - did for them, sacrificing their own time for them? Noel never gave a reason to doubt it, until she spent more time with the TV than him.

The world outside wore a dark grey over the usual green and blue blur of earth and sky. It looked like it might rain in an hour or so. Shutting off the TV, she made her way upstairs again. With a thicker sweater over her body to stay warm and her laptop in her lap, she started getting comfortable on the little patio they had, overlooking their garden and those beyond. She needed to clear her head even when she would freeze while doing so. Working from home was a privilege only the fewest had, but working as a journalist made it all a bit more available for her. The papers she took home from work laid next to her, held safely by an ashtray. Starting to type she started getting lost in the words and stories. Stories that weren’t her own completely, which made it easier to escape reality.

Only coming back once she heard his voice from behind, her fingers stopped typing and felt cold for the first time in two hours. The blood stopped pumping through them like it’d done before, circulating slower and making her hands shake.

“Are you fucking mental?” he asked her, taking the laptop from her lap and pulling her inside. “Are you trying to kill yourself outside in the cold?”

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to tell him, though her argument was worthless the moment he took her freezing hands in his own, warming them up like he’d always do. Shaking his head he continued cursing her under his breath for behaving like that. ‘How can you do stuff this stupid?’ she could hear him muttering. ‘Scaring me like this.’

“I’m fine,” she tried to convince him once more, smiling in assurance and holding his face with her cold hands, making him shiver at the cold touch. Laughing at his reaction she fell into him, leaning closer and ultimately hugging him. Snuggling her face into his chest and sighing in contempt. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too, love,” Noel said back, holding her close like he was afraid she’d slip away, into the cold again, leaving the warmth all to himself. What was warmth worth if you were lonely?

Angling her head up, she could see his () eyes already watching her, his eyebrows racing in question as he saw the uncertain look on her face. He’d always know whenever there was something on her mind and he never held her back from speaking her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she let out in a small voice, “You’re gone now more often than before.”

“I know, love.” His hand started rubbing up and down her lower back, heating her up. “But it will stop now, I promise.”

“But, you’re not done with the album yet, are you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why won’t you be gone for longer now?”

What was he doing instead? Y/n could feel her insides twist and turn. Churning in fear and exploding with anxiety building up inside of her. Her heart as racing, the beat quickening. If this was a song it would be played in the club, she was sure of it. The blood pumping through her quicker now but she felt colder than before.

What was he doing instead? The words repeated in her head, doubling every second into more question. But this one stayed in the front all the time. Hypothesis after hypothesis appearing in front of her inner eye, playing like a movie she wanted to turn off but couldn’t look away from. It was just too disturbing.

And Noel seemed to notice none of her feelings beside confusion.

“Needed to finish your gift.” Seeing her eyes widen like the movie finally ended, he only laughed at her reaction. “Don’t say you forgot what day it is.”

‘I thought you did,’ she wanted to say. “How could I forget the first time you talked to me with your back turned out of nervousness?” she said instead, bringing a blush to creep up his neck. Noel’s face hiding in the crook of her neck as he laughed in embarrassment just thinking about the situation that took place outside of a pub they were all at.

The two of them had been flirting for some time already, though neither wanted to put a label on what they were doing. With the surprising success of ‘Definitely, Maybe’ Y/n was thankful for even the smallest second she got to spent with two of her favourite people. As one could’ve seen coming from the beginning though, having less than something hurt more than having nothing, at least then she would’ve known where she was at. They both would’ve. Having to watch Y/n dance with some random guy over him and having Liam slur in his ear as to ‘how fucking childish’ he was behaving was the last straw for Noel and the reason why he found himself outside with Y/n by his side in the cold London streets. And then it all just happened. The words flew from his mouth like they’ve never done before, not even when writing songs, and after a long pause from the woman’s side, their lips finally touched in a way they’ve never done before. True passion and love being exchanged between them.

To her, he spoke poetry without thinking much about it.

A talent she hadn’t seen before. One she could never learn. So, listening to him making it feel so easy was an addiction she would never feel guilty of.

“You wanna open your present?” His words were muffled against the skin of her neck, where he laid little kisses for her. His lips travelling further up, over her jaw and cheek until they reached her lips.

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” he instructed her, losing his body from hers and walking back into the kitchen where he left it to go look for her the moment he came back. It wasn’t wrapped nicely, but Liam wanted to help so he let him.

When he came back, Y/n was sat on the sofa, hands clasped together like a child on Christmas. Excitement rushing through her veins. The present was a thin, poorly wrapped, square that was light in her hands. Scrunching her eyebrows together without a clue of what was in her hands, Noel urged her to open it, leaning on the cushion behind the headrest and watching her every move as she neatly loosened the tape from the wrapping material. Grasping the gift, she pulled it out, revealing a vinyl she’d never seen before. A simple white record sleeve over it with a message written on it. A message for her. ‘An apology for all the nights I’ve missed because of this,’ she read.

“What is it?” she asked, gently taking the record from the sleeve, separating them and letting the paper-like material drop to the cushion she sat on. Turning it, she read the tiles first, none of which she recognized, before reading the singer. Noel Gallagher.

Turning her head sharply his way she felt tears prick in her eyes. Mouth agape and her fingers holding the record tight to not drop it. Noel laughed at her reaction, the blush reappearing to his face. “All for you. All eight of them only for you.”

“You produced your own album?”

“Not mine. Ours.

“Nobody will ever hear this beside you, you know? These are just for you.”

[siriusblack-the-third]

HEADCANONS: BILL WEASLEY

Tall. So damn tall. By the time he stops growing, he has reached 6'5, and he gleefully lords it over his younger siblings for years, until Ron manages to match his exact height, not a millimetre here or there. He sulks about it for a few days before inviting Ron to join him in taking the piss out of their siblings.

Wears his hair long specifically to annoy Molly. It was simply because he was so caught up in OWL studies that he forgot to cut it, but then Molly saw him with his hair that reached the base of his neck and freaked. He deliberately kept his hair long from then on, and it kind of grew on him by 7th year.

Speaking of hair, he has fabulous hair. Absolutely gorgeous. Stunning. It's pin straight like Arthur's, unlike Charlie who got Molly's tightly wound curls. He keeps it till mid back and braids it frequently. Bill And Ginny Days™ compulsorily have at least one braiding session.

THIS BOI IS BI! He is very bi and his type is ✨Badass Motherfucker✨ as evidenced by him falling for Fleur like look at her. Enough said.

Quidditch fiend, like all the other Weasleys, and was on the team from 2nd year all the way up to the end of 6th year as Chaser. Dropped Quidditch in 7th year, because being Head Boy and being a Quidditch player while studying for NEWT exams would have been too much for him and he knew it.

Got his ear pierced in 5th year from his best friend after winning a Quidditch match. He was half drunk, and when he woke up the next day he freaked the fUCK out. He managed to hide the piercing from Molly for a record breaking eight months, and the shouting match that happened in the summer before his 6th year was the worst argument he ever had with her.

Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome™. He resents Molly a little, because he never entirely got to be a child. He always had to be the Responsible Older Sibling, even as young as 3 years old. He loves his mother, but living under the same roof as her was suffocating, for him. He said as much to Arthur in a very long conversation, and they both decided with much difficulty that Bill wouldn't be returning home after 7th year— he would immediately leave for Egypt.

In the first year of his stay in Egypt he decided to say "fuck it" and got a tattoo. It's on his shoulder, a falcon in greyscale that spreads down over his bicep and out on his shoulder blade. Molly does not find out about it until the end of HBP when he gets mauled by Greyback, and he does not tell her anything about it, claiming that he is "an adult and can get a tattoo if I want to Mum, back off."

N E R D. Such a huge nerd but people look at his piercings, long hair, muscles and his whole "90s rockstar" vibe and immediately assume he is the "popular jock" type, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. My man freaks out over magical history, ancient runes and languages, transfiguration and arithmancy. A total nerd, I tell you, and scary smart. He got 12 Outstanding OWLs and 8 Outstanding NEWTs, and reduced Molly to incoherent happy crying both times.

The Hat offered him Slytherin, and he seriously considered the option for a good few minutes. "You have a lot of ambition," the Hat told him to his pleasure, "and a thirst to find your true calling." At the age of eleven, he was already sick of being "just one of the Weasleys" and wanted to step out of his parents' shade and figure himself out. In the end, the Hat sorted him in Gryffindor, but many times he has wondered what life would have been like if he ever sorted Slytherin.

Knows a lot of dances. Arthur and Molly are both fabulous dancers, and a few of his favourite childhood memories begin with his parents teaching him how to move his hips and slide his feet and enjoy the music. He's great at waltzing, knows the foxtrot and swing dance, and learnt paso doble and the tango in the seven years he spent in Egypt.

Listens to a lot of muggle rock music. All the cool bands like AC/DC, Oasis, Nirvana, Green Day, and all of those, plus a few obscure bands that he decided he liked the sound of. He's also big on different types of classical music, courtesy of his love for dance.

His favourite sibling is Charlie. Don't get him wrong, he loves all his siblings, but Charlie has a special place in his heart because they're both close in age and understand each other better than anyone else. Bill and Charlie are almost like Fred and George, a bit: one look and they know everything the other is thinking. Doesn't have a least favourite sibling, but seriously considered Percy for the role during OoTP.

Loves learning languages. The languages he is fluent in are English, Gaelic, Welsh, Old Norse and Icelandic, Latin, Ancient Greek, Spanish, Arabic (Egyptian and Hassaniya dialects), and Persian.

Has a soft spot for Ginny, like every other Weasley. That's his baby sister who can put him on his back in less than 0.2 seconds and he adores her.

[l00iix]

A Mychael Poem

Aughh im really not much of a writer, much less a poet. But I recently played Mushroom Oasis and I just can't stop thinking of Mychael. My teacher assigned my class to write a bunch of poems, so I decided to have a go with Mychael as one of my muses. Here it is ejkdwjdn

“Monster”

Deep in the forest

There lies a cabin

Carves in the wooden walls, traced from beginning to end

Well deserving of a proper commend 

When it rains

Droplets slide from the roof

Running from spout, all the way down 

To fruits, veggies, many healthy greens

Mushrooms complimenting the scene

Walk some more, you’ll find millions of petals on the floor

The river close, a calming sound 

But be mindful

For someone else might be around 

His sickly green skin

Horns as bright as day

Hollow glowing eyes

Staring through your insides

A “monster”

But ignore what others warn

See past his thorns 

Take a step, forward

Sit by him, underneath the trees

See what you gain

For he’ll gift you

A flower chain 

I'm actually handing this in, so hopefully it's not crap lol

thank you so much for making this man @deerspherestudios !

[37sommz]

❁ : seek & destroy . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: light angst. ✼. wc: 3.7k.

monza has always been one of michaela's favorite races. on her first time returning to monza so far away from the cherry red suits, she has something to prove to herself.

✼. warnings: language, mattia binotto jumpscare, zak brown jumpscare.

✼. notes: a lil something about michaela's second win! 2021 season is almost over, there's maybe two more chapters to write. expect another story about the myla subplot within the next few days <3

000.⠀⠀SEPTEMBER 11, 2021    ›    Monza, Italy.

Michaela sat in the cramped cockpit of her McLaren car, the faint scent of rubber and gasoline clinging to her fireproof suit. Her heart hammered in her chest as the engine roared to life, the vibrations resonating through her bones. The 2021 Formula 1 season was heating up, and the tension in the air was palpable as the teams prepared for the Italian Grand Prix at the historic Monza circuit. The sun was high in the sky, casting sharp shadows across the track, as the pit lane buzzed with activity.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of media interviews and speculation about her future in the sport, with the looming shadow of Ferrari's decision to pass her over for Carlos Sainz weighing heavily on her shoulders. Jenson had tried to shield her from the storm, reminding her of their private oasis away from the glaring spotlight. But now, as she waited for the qualifying session to begin, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the world watching her every move.

The green light flashed, signaling the start of qualifying. She took a deep breath, her gloved hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The tires screeched as she launched off the line, the power of the car pushing her back into the seat. Each turn, each gear shift, was executed with precision, her focus unwavering. The crowd roared as she set a blistering lap time in the final session, beating out even her own expectations. She could feel the excitement building within the McLaren garage as she climbed out of the car, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool breeze that danced through the open air.

Her trainer, Luisa, gave her a thumbs up from the garage wall, her smile wide and proud at the pole position. But before she could bask in the moment, her eyes locked with Mattia Binotto's, the Ferrari team principal, who watched her from the Ferrari pit wall. His expression was a mix of surprise and something that looked uncomfortably close to irritation. The reminder of the seat that could've been hers was a stark reminder of the pressure she faced.

Their eyes met, and she could feel the unspoken challenge. Binotto was a man of few words, but the silence between them was louder than any engine on the grid. "You know you're better than this," he said, his Italian words cutting through the noise as he passed her on his way back to his garage. "Ferrari made a mistake, but that doesn't mean you should settle for second best."

Michaela's cheeks flushed, but she held her ground. "I'm not here to prove anything to you," she shot back in her near-perfect Italian. Her time at Prema and then at Alfa Romeo had done more than just lit a fire under her to be the best. It had given her the gift of a second fluency, one that came in handy when she found herself caught up in tense battles with the Prancing Horses.

The tense conversation was cut short by the need for the drivers to report back to their respective garages. The tension between her and Binotto was palpable as she marched back to McLaren. Inside the garage, she found Lando Norris waiting for her, his expression a mirror of Binotto's. Their relationship had been strained since her arrival, the young Briton feeling overshadowed by her relentless drive and unyielding ambition.

"What did he say to you?" Lando asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and resentment.

Michaela shrugged off the question, her eyes focused on the data screens in front of her. "Nothing that concerns you," she replied, her tone cold.

"It's all everyone's talking about," Lando pressed, his voice rising. "How you should've been in red instead of slumming it here with me."

Michaela whipped around, the fire in her eyes surprising even herself. "I'm not slumming it anywhere, Lando. I'm fighting for every inch of track, for every point, for every win, just like you."

The garage fell silent as their teammates and engineers looked on, sensing the animosity. Zak Brown stepped in, his voice firm. "That's enough. We're here to race as a team, not tear each other apart."

Michaela's eyes flashed with anger before she spun on her heel and stormed out, her heart racing. She needed air, space, anything to get away from the suffocation of the garage. She found herself by the team motorhome, her thoughts racing. The pressure to outperform, to prove she was the better choice, was crushing her.

000.⠀⠀SEPTEMBER 12, 2021    ›    Monza, Italy.

The day of the race dawned with a clear blue sky, the anticipation thick in the air. The sound of engines roared through the historic circuit as the drivers took to the track for their final preparations. As she stood on the track, waiting for the Italian national anthem to be sung, she couldn't help but think of the conversation with Lando the day before. Despite their differences, they were a team, and she knew she needed to find a way to work with him.

Michaela took a moment to find her focus, blocking out the noise around her. The grid was a sea of color and movement, with the Ferrari fans dressed in red, creating a stark contrast to the papaya orange of McLaren. Her eyes found Carlos Sainz, standing confidently beside his new Ferrari teammate. He looked over at her and gave a smug smile, whispering something to his teammate, Charles Leclerc, who chuckled in response. As the Il Canto degli Italiani began to play through the circuit's loudspeakers, a rush of longing washed over the Australian. Michaela felt the weight of the moment, the pressure to perform at her peak, and the bitterness of being so close to her dream and yet so far. She took her position on the grid, the eyes of the Tifosi upon her.

The lights went out, and the race was on.

Michaela's McLaren shot forward, her tires chirping as she defended her pole position into the first chicane. The first few laps were a blur of speed and strategy, each turn and overtake a delicate dance of the power and precision of the 20 drivers. The Italian crowd raved as the cars weaved through the historic circuit enjoying the roar of engines that echoed through the grandstands.

Her eyes remained fixed ahead, but she could feel the presence of the Ferrari's behind her, particularly Carlos'. Every time she caught a glimpse of his car in her mirrors, it was like a dagger twisting in her gut. The race was a battle not just for victory but for validation. She pushed herself harder, her every move calculated, her driving a silent declaration of her worthiness.

The tension grew with each lap, the cars jostling for position, the strategies unfolding. The heat from the asphalt was intense, and beads of sweat began to form on her brow, stinging her eyes as she leaned into the tight corners. The race was a physical and mental marathon, and she was in the lead, refusing to let anyone pass. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—Ferrari's decision, Lando's words, Jenson's comforting whispers—but she pushed them aside, focusing solely on the task at hand.

Michaela's heart rate spiked as she approached the halfway point. A rare mistake from a rival brought out the safety car, and the engineer in her ear urged caution. But she knew this was her chance to extend her lead, to show Ferrari what they were missing. As the safety car peeled away, she floored the accelerator, the engine screaming as she shot ahead of the pack. The crowd roared as she streaked across the line, the Ferraris struggling to keep up in 6th and 7th.

She pushed her McLaren to the limit, and her every move was a silent challenge to the home team. The team radio crackled with tension as her engineer reminded her of the strategy, but she was in the zone—fueled by the desire to prove herself to everyone who had doubted her.

The race was a sprint to the finish, with every driver giving it their all. The walls of the Monza track seemed to close in on her as she approached the final few laps, her heart hammering in her chest. The roar of Lando's McLaren engine grew louder in her mirrors, but she held her line, her instincts sharp.

A daring overtake attempt by Lando saw her forced to the edge of the track, the gravel whispering against the side of her car. The crowd held its collective breath as she kept her cool, not letting the Englishman pass. The move was a statement—she was not just fighting for the podium, she was fighting for her reputation.

The final lap approached, and the tension was unbearable. The roar of the engines grew louder, the smell of burning rubber more intense. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and every muscle in her body was taut with the effort of keeping the car on the racing line. She could see the checkered flag in the distance, a beacon of victory and vindication.

Michaela's mind raced faster than the car she piloted. She thought of the sleepless nights spent studying every inch of this track, the countless hours in the simulator, the sacrifices she had made for this moment. She could almost feel the eyes of the Ferrari fans on her, willing her to fail. But she was not here to make them happy. This was her race, her chance to show the world that she was more than a rejected prospect.

The final corner, Parabolica, loomed ahead. The longest and fastest on the track, it was a corner that could make or break a race. She took a deep breath and committed to her line, feeling the G-forces push her into the seat as she roared around it. The crowd's cheers grew to a crescendo as she crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag before anyone else.

Michaela's heart was racing as she pulled into the pit lane, the weight of the victory heavy in her chest. She climbed out of the cockpit, her legs wobbly from the intense physical exertion. The adrenaline rush washed over her as she was embraced by her team, the feeling of victory sweet on her lips. The podium was a blur of flashing lights and champagne spray, the gold trophy gleaming in the sun.

As she stepped down from the podium, she was bombarded by reporters eager for a piece of the story. Questions about Ferrari's decision to pass her over were thrown at her left and right. She took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. "Today was about driving for McLaren and for myself," she said, her voice steady. "I'm not here to discuss what could've been. I'm here to celebrate what is." Her answers were short, her smile tight.

The press conference was even more intense. One journalist in particular took pleasure in poking at the open wound, asking if she felt she had proven a point to Ferrari today. She met his gaze, her eyes like fire. "Every time I get in the car, I race to win," she said, her voice cool and measured. "Today was no different."

After the press conference, as she made her way through the crowded paddock, she felt the weight of the day's events finally catching up with her. The victory that had seemed so sweet on the podium now tasted bittersweet. Her eyes searched the sea of faces for Jenson, finding him in the distance, talking with some of the other drivers.

The moment their eyes met, she felt a rush of relief. He broke away from the group and walked over to her, his eyes filled with understanding. "You okay?" he asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "It's just...this win feels empty. Like I'm not allowed to truly enjoy it." Though her fingers twitched with the need to feel the warmth of his embrace, she was keenly aware of the eyes surrounding them in the paddock. Media, staff, and drivers alike wandered between tents with no sense of privacy for the unknown couple.

"You can't let them win," Jenson said, his voice low and soothing. "You've worked too hard, come too far."

Michaela nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know, but it's hard not to feel guilty about everything. The secret, the pressure..."

Jenson pulled her aside, his voice a whisper. "Guilt doesn't serve you on the track, Mick. Let it go." His eyes searched hers, and she saw the love and support she so desperately needed.

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath, nodding. He was right. She had to focus on the here and now. But as they walked back to the McLaren garage, the reality of their secret relationship weighed on her. They couldn't celebrate openly, couldn't share in this moment of triumph as they truly wanted to.

Inside the garage, the atmosphere was a mix of elation and relief. Her teammates and mechanics congratulated her, their faces beaming with pride. But amidst the celebration, she caught a glimpse of Lando's downturned expression. He had pushed her hard today, and she knew she had hurt him with her earlier words yesterday. 

She made her way over, extending a hand. "Good race, Lando," she said, her voice sincere.

He looked up, the anger in his eyes fading to something softer. "Yeah," he said, taking her hand and pulling her into a friendly hug. "Congrats on the win, Mick."

Michaela felt a flicker of regret for their earlier argument. "Thanks," she murmured, returning the embrace. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday."

Lando pulled back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You know what, I get it. We're all fighting our own battles. Just remember, we're on the same side."

Michaela nodded, feeling a weight lifted. She knew that she had to address the tension between them if she wanted to move forward as a team. "Let's get some rest tonight, and talk about it tomorrow?" she offered.

Lando nodded, and she knew that was the best she could hope for at the moment. The night was still young, and the celebrations were in full swing. The roar of the party grew louder as they approached the McLaren hospitality area, but the sound of laughter and music didn't fill her with the same joy it usually did. She found a quiet corner, her thoughts swirling with the day's events.

The victory had been significant, but it was overshadowed by the constant reminder of what could've been. Her eyes searched the crowd again for Jenson, feeling a pang of longing. The secret of their relationship was a burden she hadn't anticipated. It was one thing to keep it from the media, but quite another to hide from her own team.

As the night progressed, the celebrations grew wilder. The champagne flowed, and the laughter grew louder, but Michaela felt a million miles away. She found a quiet spot outside the garage, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling heat inside. The sound of engines winding down and the clank of tools being packed away provided a rhythmic backdrop to her tumultuous thoughts.

Her eyes searched the bustling paddock once more, and she spotted Jenson signing autographs, surrounded by adoring fans. He looked up, catching her gaze, and the connection between them was palpable. With a sigh, she turned away, feeling the sting of their secret more sharply than ever.

Michaela pulled her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through the messages of congratulations from friends and family. Her thumb hovered over her mother's name, knowing she would be proud but also concerned about the stress she'd been under. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "You don't have to win every race, just remember why you started." It was a gentle reminder to find joy in the journey, not just the destination.

With a heavy heart, she slipped away from the festivities, needing a moment to herself. She walked down the pit lane, the garages of other teams now empty as they packed up for the night. The Ferrari garage was still a hive of activity, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. It was there, in the quiet, that she allowed the tears to fall.

The sudden sound of footsteps had her quickly wiping her face, expecting a well-meaning team member or a persistent journalist. But it was neither. It was Carlos Sainz, looking as surprised to see her as she was to see him. 

"Michaela?" he called out, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Michaela took a deep breath and turned around, trying to compose herself. "I'm fine," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest.

Carlos walked closer, his eyes scanning her face. "You don't look fine," he said softly. "What's going on?"

Michaela hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share with her rival. But the sincerity in his voice made her feel a sudden kinship. "It's just... I wanted to prove something today," she said, her voice cracking. "To Ferrari, to everyone who said I didn't deserve a shot."

Carlos nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know that feeling," he said, his voice low. "But you can't let them upset you. You're a great driver, and you showed that today."

Michaela looked at him, surprised by his kindness. "Thank you," she murmured. "It's just hard, you know?"

Carlos nodded. "More than anyone," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "But remember, you're racing for yourself now. Prove to Ferrari that they made a mistake, sure. But do it for you."

Michaela took a moment to let his words sink in, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Carlos."

He returned the smile, the tension between them momentarily forgotten. "Good luck for the rest of the season," he said before turning back to the Ferrari garage.

Michaela watched him go, feeling a newfound respect for the man who had taken the seat she had once coveted. With a sigh, she headed back to the McLaren area, her steps lighter than before. As she approached the back entrance of the hospitality suite, she spotted Guido waiting for her, his eyes filled with concern.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek.

Michaela nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, just... a lot to process."

Guido wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a warm embrace. She leaned into him, feeling his heartbeat against her chest, steady and reassuring. "You don't have to do this alone," he whispered.

Michaela pulled back, looking up into his eyes. "But I do," she said softly. "The results, the pressure... it's all on me." 

Guido’s expression was filled with a mix of frustration and empathy, worry lines etched themselves into his forehead, standing out against his fair skin.

"I know you don’t want to hear me say it yet," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can’t let you do this to yourself, cara. Especially not if you can't even enjoy a quality win like this."

Michaela knew he was right, but the fear of the unknown was paralyzing. "I know," she said, her voice a mere murmur. "It’s just..." Her arms crossed over each other, teeth gritted uncomfortably.

Guido nodded as her words failed her. "I know the risks," he said, his voice firm. "But if you’re going to keep doing this, we need to start considering our other options. I need you to be honest with me, I don’t think you’re happy here."

Michaela took a deep breath. She leaned into his presence again, feeling the comfort that exuded from him. "Let's talk after the weekend’s over," she said, her voice filled with hope. "When the pressure's off, and we can figure this out."

Guido nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Deal," he murmured, brushing back the loose strands of his dark hair. "But remember, you're not in this alone. Win or lose, I'm here for you. We’re all here for you."

The night air was cooler now, the Italian summer giving way to a gentle evening breeze. They stood together in silence for a moment, the sound of the distant celebrations a stark contrast to their private conversation.

Michaela took a moment to absorb his words, feeling a renewed sense of determination. They had a plan, and it was something to hold onto. With a nod, she stepped back, the moment of vulnerability passing.

"I should get back in there with the team," she sniffed, her voice still thick with emotion. She wiped the stray tears that still managed to cloud her vision before pushing her shoulders back. The McLaren logo stood proud over her chest, a reminder of the team that had given her a lifeline to achieve so much more than she thought was in the cards for her this season. 

"Gotta celebrate kicking the Scuderia's ass."

Guido chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "You definitely did that," he said, giving her one last squeeze before letting her go. "You're a bloody legend, no matter what anyone says."

Michaela took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, Gui Gui," she said with a level of amusement in her voice from the use of the nickname he hated so much. The weight of his words settled in her chest. "I'll try to keep that in mind." With a forced smile, she turned and headed back towards the McLaren garage, the noise of the party growing louder with each step.

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[elviehun]

So she's 22 years old TODAY.

My baby. My love. One of THE greatest influences that formed me as a young person, the one that I've never, ever, ever stopped loving, not even when heartbreak was so all-consuming that I couldn't even think about listening to anything they put out for more than 3 years. I've never stopped loving her. She's my safe place now, the no.1. place my mind escapes to when life gets too much or too little or too mundane or too painful. I still think it's their best album, despite the almost religious reverence I feel about The Black Parade, Bullets is, in my world, the MCR-est of MCR ever to exist. She came at a very performative period of my life, and I'm pretty sure, even after all these years, that at least 30% of my personality is formed thanks to her. Sure, there were Thursday and Thrice and Lifetime and Midtown and Green Day and Oasis and Texas is the Reason before her, and I'd be a liar if I said those bands didn't play a huge role in making me as a teen and a young adult, yet she will always stand out. I couldn't even explain why.

I just... when I listen to Bullets, I always get right back to this place, not even in my own life, but an imagined place in THEIRS, trying to put myself in the shoes of an obscure band from the same scene where I found Thursday, a scene that, over the years since, became so legendary, so canonical, that it almost feels like either historical or mythical. These beautiful, ungodly talents getting together in the weirdest ways of twisty, tangled life decisions, on the trails of tragedy and hopelessness and the inevitable change of our perspective on life and death and safety and togetherness and apartness after said tragedy, to follow a calling coming inevitably from something higher, bigger, wiser than humanity as a whole at that point, to become something nobody, especially not those handful of mercurial boys, could have even imagined. They formed and transformed a decade after the turn of the millennium that needed transformation SO BAD and exactly in the form of a couple of young talents decidedly trying to make a difference for the better because they, as young as they were, saw all what was wrong with the world.

And She was the first stepping stone in that process. I'm so grateful for having been there, even if not exactly from day one but at least from the beginning of '03 when my cousin moved back home from NYC with a cassette case (among a few others) containing Bullets, for me. Because it finished the process of changing everything. And later, when they became big worldwide too, and my heart grew twice its size with pride that those guys, MY GUYS, made it, really made it, in even greater terms than Thursday did, I found this sense of... belonging. I didn't go to concerts, I was too much of a wuss and an agoraphobe even at 19-20, I only got the feeling of community in the world of lagging and unfortunately slow internet forums and the knowledge that what I felt, what these guys, miraculously, felt too, and somehow managed to channel and broadcast, was something thousands and thousands of young people across the globe felt too. It was my first experience in that sense and I will never forget what it all gave me. They made it this big because they are one of a kind, and explosive, and just what the world needed right then. What I needed right then. And, even counting the inevitable fallouts because life became very different in a very short time for me and not long after that, for them, too, what I still seem to kind of need at this point in my life.

Geoff Rickly, as always, was right. They did become the biggest band in the world and looking back now, even if we'll get nothing more than WWWY '24 and what we got in the past 3 years, all the heartbreak is gone and all I feel is gratitude. All I feel is warm fuzzies thinking about their days spent in basements and vans and rest stops and studios and VFW halls and then festivals and arenas, is that I want to go back in time and space and be a fly on the wall, to be with them, be them, be ALL of them at the same time, each time when all the magic happened, at every step of the way, through good times and bad, young, clueless them in the beginning, with a crappy van and a celestial dream, and also current, wise and experienced them having lived everything that happened and couldn't happen, all the beauty and tragedy and growth, but also wanting to relive everything again on the receiving end, knowing nothing about how integral their magic will be throughout my adult life, but also from the perspective of the now, the reunion, the rekindling of my love for them, the new hopes, the new shows, everything, while knowing that, even faking their death for years, it never stopped. I still love each and every one of them so much. The visionary with too much raw and exposed nerve endings for this not-OK world, the unstoppable creative machine and comfort blanket of a guy in one person, the gentle and humble genius that always preferred the background, the thoughtful empath who didn't really believe in himself enough till almost the end. I love them. I love their music, all their songs, all their albums, but when I count my artistic experiences as one counts their blessings, I WILL ALWAYS, ALWAYS COUNT BULLETS TWICE.

Happy Birthday, you impossible magnificent thing.

[xcherrypie]

Shes Electric

Summary: You and Sam get invited to a wedding and all that’s on his mind you.

Words : 0.8k

You take a sip of your wine and smile to yourself when you look over to the bar and see Sam with his arms draped around your two brothers. If there is one thing you love about Sam it’s how much he enjoys spending time with not only you, but the people you love too, so when you got invited to your cousins wedding, of course you couldn’t wait for the occasion.

“Oh, your a good egg” your mum chuckled as Sam walks over, placing a new bottle of bubbly down in-front of her. “I know y/m/n, isn’t y/n lucky ay” Sam replied jokingly, winking at you, laughing as he sat down in the empty chair beside you. You rolled your eyes at his cheeky tone and kissed him on the cheek, thankful for his return.

The lights go dim as the DJ on dance floor announces the newly weds first dance. Sam’s hand finds it’s way to the small of your back, making circles as you both watch your cousin and her husband slow dance and half of the room is in tears of how beautiful it was, including your mum of course. As the lights lifted your mum dried her eyes and looked over to both of you “God, imagine what I’ll be like when it’s your two’s turn.” You and Sam both chuckled.

After a couple more songs and safe to say a few more pints, you and Sam have a bit more Dutch courage in you. Your aunt pulls you from your chair when she hears “Murder on the Dancefloor” start blasting from the speakers, knowing that it would never fail to get you up dancing. Sam heads himself up to the bar, watching in awe, admiring you and how good you looked in your dress, the forest green fabric hugging your figure perfectly, however you could be wearing a bin bag and Sam would still be drooling over you.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Your cousin approached Sam, opening her arms for a hug. Sam returns the hug, deciding not to tell your cousin that what’s really on his mind is getting you back to that hotel room to show you really how beautiful he thinks you are. “It looks amazing in here” he replied. “You guys have done such a grand job” your cousin smiled, “thank you angel, all the late nights and stress was definitely worth it!” Before Sam could respond another guest grabbed your cousin into a hug, congratulating her on her big day.

Sam wandered over to the dancefloor with both of your drinks, handing you yours as he takes a sip from his. “Have I told you how good you look?” He questioned with a cheeky grin, arms snaking around your waist. “Yes Samuel, plenty of times” you chuckled, half blushing half rolling your eyes. Before he could reply, you hear “She’s Electric” by Oasis begin to play, loads more of your friends and family join you all on the dancefloor, arms round each other, drunkenly singing along. You look up and Sam and smile to yourself, seeing him join in and fit in with your family so well, part of you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

As the night draws to a close everyone starts bidding their farewells, heading home or back to their hotel for the night. Yourself and Sam say goodbye to everyone and make your way back to your room, his hand not leaving your waist the entire time. You must admit it took a lot for you to not stop every five seconds to crash your lips in to Sam’s, with him looking so good under the moonlight. His white shirt sitting so nicely, highlighting every movement his arms made so well, and the top three buttons being undone alongside his tie draped around his neck lazily, you couldn’t resist him.

But you didn’t have to wait long, the second your hotel room door slammed shut Sam cupped your face in his hands, crashing his lips into yours. You smiled against the kiss, your thumbs stroking his jaw, pulling him in for more. You’d secretly been waiting for this moment all night too. Sam pulled away from the kiss, looking you up and down. “Go get ready for bed babe” he smiled, as much as he wanted to take the kiss further he also knew you’d kill him in the morning if he’d let you go to bed with your makeup on. “But Sam-“ you protested, but before you could finish he spun you around, squeezing you tightly from behind, his lips hovering down the drape of your neck. “Go get ready for bed and I’ll meet you there” he whispered to your ear, sending sweet chills down your body. “Promise?” You replied innocently. “I promise.” He said whilst kissing gently down your neck. He loosens his grip around you and you wander off the bathroom, your mind trailing off to wear the night will take you.

Notes: Hey everyone, this is my first piece of writing so apologies if it’s a little shabby, any advice or tips would be greatly appreciated <3

[liaromancewriter]

First Day

Premise: Sienna begins her residency at Edenbrook.

Book: Open Heart Characters: Sienna Trinh Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 580

A/N: Submission for @siennatrinhappreciationweek Day 1. Also submitting to @choicesaugustchallenge prompt "sunshine"

This was it, and there it was!

Today was the day she had been working toward for years—the day she would finally begin her residency. It felt surreal, like a dream she was about to step into, filled with apprehension that the dream might vanish in a puff of smoke if she woke up too quickly.

Sienna Trinh barely held back an excited screech as she approached the modern hospital building with a sleek, glass-paneled façade and warm, earthy tones. The hospital’s green and blue logo was prominent above the main doors.

Nestled among the high rises and busy streets of Boston’s West End, Edenbrook’s entrance was an oasis of calm. She hiked down the pavement, noting the small circular fountain surrounded by well-maintained flower beds and lush green spaces dotted with picnic tables and benches.

Sienna could imagine escaping here during break time or having lunch outside when the weather was nice.

“You should go in through the front doors,” said Danny, the helpful nurse she’d met on the train. “The receptionist can tell you where to get your ID ahead of orientation.”

Sienna nodded, wordlessly thanking him as she stared at the bright, welcoming building before them.

“I’ll see you later.” He waved goodbye and detoured to the side where the staff entrance was located.

Clutching the strap of her bag, Sienna took a deep breath and walked through the sliding doors.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows behind her, casting a warm, golden hue over the lobby, already bustling despite the early hour.

Her heart pounded with excitement and nervousness. She would spend the next three years here, learning the practical aspects of being a doctor.

Thinking of her grandfather, the man who had inspired her to go into medicine, Sienna snapped a picture on her phone and texted it to him. He texted back immediately with a heart emoji.

She laughed. Since discovering the various emojis in his new phone, Ông decided words were superfluous to communication.

Sienna had always imagined how she would walk through these halls, head held high, confident and ready to take on the world. But now, standing at the threshold of this new chapter, the weight of responsibility felt heavier than she had anticipated.

“First day jitters?” a voice asked from behind her.

Sienna turned to see a middle-aged man with short dark hair. He wore glasses, a white shirt, a sweater vest, and light-colored pants. His friendly smile and kind eyes exuded a calmness that immediately began to ease her nerves.

She recognized him from her residency interview panel—Dr. Naveen Banerji, the head of Edenbrook’s renowned diagnostics team.

“Just a bit,” Sienna admitted with a sheepish grin.

Dr. Banerji chuckled softly. “That’s a good sign. It means you care about what you’re doing. But don’t let it paralyze you. You’ve worked hard to get here—trust yourself.”

His words, though simple, were reassuring. Sienna nodded, feeling a surge of determination replace some of her apprehension. “Thank you, Doctor. I’m ready!”

His brown eyes twinkled, and his lips quirked, likely in amusement at the ferocity of her response.

“Welcome to Edenbrook, Doctor.” He tipped his head and walked toward the elevator.

Sienna glanced around the lobby once again. Natural light flooded the interior from the glass-domed atrium ceiling. She took a deep breath, letting the warm sunlight fill her with renewed confidence.

“Here we go,” she whispered to herself, ready for whatever lay ahead.

----------

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Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

@storyofmychoices

[igglemouse]

A scattering of seeds, a sprinkle of water, and one passing night brings forth new life. Little green bushes sprout from the dirt, promising a revolution and proving the Flower Bunny correct. Spring is in full bloom and flowers aren’t the only thing promising to blossom.

How could I not speak of the kiss between Pascal and I, after all? A tender moment between us yesterday that had my mind lingering with thoughts of him. Was that single moment under a warm spring day the sign of something more enduring?

Or could it be that my relationship with him will wither under the hot summer sun when it comes?

But today is a new day and with it comes new possibilities. With it being Friday I figured I would open the stand a little later, catch people coming home from work and ready to wind down after a busy work week. People that might not be up for cooking themselves who would be willing to part with a few simoleons to have a meal from someone else.

This decision gives me a gift of time for the morning, time well spent with laundry so that I too could prepare for what I hope is a busy and fulfilling weekend.

The weekend starts with a workout!

Pascal’s introduced me to this gym and I mean to become a regular here if for no other reason than he endorses it. He’s a professional athlete after all so if this place is good enough for him then it must be good enough for me.

It does not take long to find the appeal. There’s a calm vibe to the gym, a quiet that is only filled with the clanking of weights, machines, and sharp exhales of effort.

The treadmill’s themselves are meditative, the belt thrumming smoothly under each step I take on my journey to nowhere and everywhere all at once. Before long I begin to lose myself to the session, each step a building block towards someone better, each minute proof of my will.

Yeah. I could definitely get into this.

I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead, moistening it with my sweat, satisfied but not yet content. What’s that old phrase? No pain, no gain! I’m sweating but my legs still feel fresh and tell me that there’s still more to go. I reach down on the treadmill to increase the pace-

“You new here?” a woman asks, her voice smacking aside my focus like a clank of weights. “Just wanted to let you know that this one,” she looks down to the treadmill. “Can be a little quirky.”

“Ummm-”

“Yeeep. It likes to challenge people randomly every now and then or maybe it likes the taste of face,” I look at her confused. Perhaps something was lost in translation here because I have no idea what she means. “It’s broken,” she clarifies. “Just a warning!”

“O-oh! Gracias!”

Since I could not afford an injury at this time I stopped off the treadmill right away and followed her outside. Not the wisest of ideas. The sun seemingly mocked the idea that it was spring at all and instead hinted at what a summer day would feel like here in Oasis.

We stopped on a rightfully empty basketball court because who would want to play anything outside in his heat?

“Sorry, Simlish es no my first language,” I tell her as a precaution because I have a feeling she’s wanting a conversation. “I’m Frida.”

“Frida…cute accent! Marjorie but you can call me Marge,” she says with a welcoming smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Not a week,” I reply with a breathy chuckle.

“And already here at the gym? I like your style,” she says with a nod of her head and a wipe of her brow as well. The heat was definitely going to have us seeking shelter.

“You’ll find me here most days,” she continues, tossing her head back towards the gym. “Don’t forget about that treadmill either, better safe than sorry, right? See you later Frida.”

Perhaps I’ve met a new friend.

I get home and sink into a tub of water that has been bombed with a freshly sweet lavender scent. I think I’ve used too much because there are so many bubbles that they foam over the edge of the tub but what does that matter? It’s Friday and I plan on squeezing as much enjoyment from it as possible.

It’s not like I even get weekends off. I run a business by myself. Sola. That means my schedule is filled with work which also means I need to savor every moment of peace I can find.

But just because my schedule is filled with work doesn’t mean it’s actual ‘work’ if you catch my meaning. Cooking, as I’ve said before, brings me joy. Maybe I am easily pleased but buying a new pizza oven and making my own pizza, standard cheese pizza, the classic, completely makes my day!

I think pizza will be a very important part of my stand, it’s affordable and munchable and I can charge per slice! Perfect! Let’s just hope it’s actually good!

I step outside ready to begin my daily sale but am met immediately by a stranger. My neighbor, he claims tobe at least. “Just wanted to say hello and officially welcome you!” His voice is filled with the zeal of an overly enthusiastic neighbor. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you-”

“Oh?” caution leaks from my one word reply. The last thing I want is some neighbor keeping watch over me after all.

“O-oh! No, not like that!” he catches my caution and realizes how his introduction must seem to me. “I’m just down the road and across the street. It’s just a phrase I guess.” He then introduces himself as Oscar Fuentes.

“Hola Oscar! Cómo es-”

“No no no no, sorry, I don’t speak Selvadoradian,” he cuts me off quickly bringing a smirk to my lips. I kind of guessed he might because of his name but it’s actually better that he doesn’t because…

“Sorry, no speak Simlish!” I tell him and basically shoo him along. I have a feeling this is the nosy neighbor type and if that is true then the less interaction with him the better.

“Oh! No, it is I that is sorry! I just wanted to say your food stand adds a real punch to the neighborhood! I wanted to thank you personally and…” his words drift as I give him my best confused look to really drive the point home. “Ah, I see, well, hopefully another time. See you around?”

“Yes, yes, bye.”

Oscar takes the hint and leaves me to setting up my stand. I must admit that doing it much later in the afternoon just initially has a better feel to it and that is because of the weather.

One thing about hot climates is that there is always a perfect time of day, the sweet spot, and right now I was settled in the middle of it. Maybe that’s why my voice had a bit more pop and energy to it and maybe that’s why I pull in 166 simoleons.

It’s not a huge sum to be sure but it is a pattern, a hint of some consistency, proof that maybe I am catching on and maybe there is a future here for me after all…

A guard blocks the exit to the room with a posture that said he would be ready to defend order with all that he had. Which, in this case, was a simple can of pepper spray. Here at ADX Desierto it was all a guard could have because the risk of a prisoner wrestling away a baton, knife, or gun, was far too much. While a prisoner couldn’t plot an escape with either he could send a man just doing his job to an early grave and anyone who called his place home had little to lose. Some even welcomed the execution that might come from such an option.

Thankfully, this particular guard was here more as a formality. The prisoner who shared the room with him had been one of those tamed with time and religion, a man who only wanted to find redemption through the watcher and through his daughter.

A daughter he called once a week to absolutely no reply. The guard had hoped this week would be different, that she would pick up her phone and offer the man a pinch of hope, but as Anthony slammed the phone down against the receiver he knew that she was still avoiding him. Perhaps even had him blocked…

The guard was ready to escort Anthony back to his cell because usually the man, the killer, he reminded himself, would only try to call his daughter and that was it but today he held up his hand for a moment and started to dial another number.

For a moment the guard thought to warn him that all calls were recorded. Some prisoners, men whose ego were larger than the desert they were housed in, would try to conduct business behind bars and that would only add to their punishment or their time (as if a man with over 100 years left on his sentence cared much about added time). The guard thought to warn Anthony but then reminded himself again that this was a killer. Despite the calm and now tame demeanor all it took was one look into his eyes to know that this was a man who could shoot him dead in the head and think nothing of it.

So he remained in his spot, guarding the door, and instead eaves dropped on his conversation which was mostly pushed through quick and hushed phrases…

“Just make sure she’s okay….she never picks up…just check on her….got it?”

Was all he could make out. Eventually, his 15 minutes were up.

And eventually the guard is back into the heart of the facility, the corridor with steel bars on either side of him, so full and packed that a prisoners can talk to each other (and often do) and even reach across the hall to pass things around.

The guard’s steps are silent, the quiet approach taken more for necessity than fear as this time of night had given way to rest which meant even the more unpredictable prisoners had opted for sleep. Even still, just walking these halls had made him nervous. Sometimes, the best that can happen is prisoners throwing things at you, sometimes even feces, and even still that is better than the story of an officer being pulled to the cage and getting choked out and nearly dying.

Thankfully for him Anthony’s cell was not far and even better, no one messed with Anthony and so it felt more like Anthony was escorting himself to his cell and not the other way around.

The guard’s farewell is soft and filled with a hint of sympathy that would flee with the click and lock of his cell. Leaving Anthony alone in a place he had learned to call home and even appreciate.

He was told when he made his pledge to the cartel that there were only two ways out, in a casket or behind bars, he thought the former was always the only real option. He’d go out in a blaze of glory before submitting to order and begging mercy from the law…and yet, he’s glad to still be alive.

His past is one of death, a thread of lives all worthy of being ended and yet lives all the same. The faces of his victims blurs at best, the names never placed into his memory and the emotions attached to them completely non-existent. He was given a target and a bag of simoleons when the job was done. No questions asked.

It brought him simoleons, that’s all that mattered then, and it allowed him to live a life he could have only dreamed of. A life he would have happily snuffed out himself if it meant being here locked in a maximum security prison for the rest of his life with no chance of escape.

But this was a debt he learned he had to pay and his confinement had left him with his thoughts, his own thoughts, not those tainted by powder or drugs, but thoughts of a father who had once seen the promise of a life he had turned down.

He would survive, he would serve the rest of his hundred year sentence because it is what she asked of him. It is what he owed her. He never planned to father her, he barely knew her mother after all. His concept of family were the men who paid him and never anything more than that. He fought for them, he killed for them, but the cold concrete and steel of this building had taught him that family isn’t who you fight for, its who you live for.

He knew there was no redemption here, that the Watcher would be insane to ever forgive the list of sins he’s committed, his soul had been judged and condemned.

But there was still time for Frida…

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[newmusickarl]

Albums of the Year 2024: Honourable Mentions

2024 – what a year for music hey?!

We had The Last Dinner Party in Spring, a well-documented BRAT Summer, a Fontaines Fall and, finally, The Cure for the Winter. We also had a couple of big reunions: the Gallagher brothers delighting everyone by reuniting Oasis, nu-metal icons Linkin Park returning with a new vocalist and then, just last month, indie darlings The Maccabees announcing some live shows for 2025. Both the Electronic and Country music genres seemed to have a particularly great year, while artists dissecting toxic relationships also seemed to be a thematic favourite over the last 12 months. We also had plenty of memorable moments and some incredible festival performances but, above all else, we had some bloody great new music.

You’ll be pleased to know that while this blog took a backseat to some other hobbies and ventures in 2024, my listening habits certainly didn’t slow down. My Apple Music Replay tells me I’ve listened to 587 albums from 983 different artists, 4,758 songs and a whopping 35,886 minutes of music. Just like previous years, I’ve whittled this mass of new music down to my favourite Albums, EPs and Songs of the Year – starting as always with the albums.

From my own (more accurate) tally that I keep every year, I’ve actually listened to 220 Albums in 2024, with that 220 then broken down into my Top 50 Albums of the Year, my 50 unranked honourable mentions and then sadly 120 albums that didn’t make the final cut. As ever, the top albums come from a multitude of genres: pop, rock, indie, hip-hop, R&B, country, electronica, shoegaze, punk, post-punk - it’s all here! So, although there is a good chance you won’t enjoy everything on this list, hopefully there is at least something for everyone.

For those who are following my annual countdown for the first time, I have a basic criterion that has treated me well over the last decade when collating my final Album of the Year list. Generally, I’ve favoured the records that:

Had the biggest impact on me

Was a landmark culturally or within the wider music world

Showed ambition or had something unique to offer

I played the most during the year

Ultimately produced my favourite front-to-back listening experience

So, before the Top 50 countdown officially begins with the albums that finished 50-41, I wanted to just shout out the albums that I thoroughly enjoyed this year but ultimately just missed out on the Top 50 spots. This includes some fantastic debuts (Been Stellar, Dolores Forever, Fat Dog, Sprints), some surprise returns to form (The Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day, The Libertines), some late career highlights (Gruff Rhys, Maxïmo Park, James, Los Campesinos!) and plenty of the year’s biggest and most acclaimed projects (Beyoncé, Billie Eilish, Kamasi Washington, Waxahatchee).

So, officially kicking off year-end season, here are my 50 Honourable Mentions for 2024 in alphabetical order (by artist):

Arab Strap - I'm totally fine with it 👍 don't give a fuck anymore 👍

Been Stellar - Scream From New York, NY

Beyoncé – COWBOY CARTER

Bill Ryder Jones - Iechyd Da

Billie Eilish – HIT ME HARD AND SOFT

Bring Me The Horizon - POST HUMAN: NeX GEn

Caribou – Honey

Cassandra Jenkins - My Light, My Destroyer

Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To, She Reaches Out To She

Daudi Matsiko - The King of Misery

DEADLETTER - Hysterical Strength

Dolores Forever - It's Nothing

Du Blonde - Sniff More Gritty

Fat Dog - WOOF.

Fazerdaze - Soft Power

Four Tet - Three

Geographer - A Mirror Brightly

Goat Girl - Below The Waste

Green Day - Saviors

Gruff Rhys - Sadness Sets Me Free

Hovvdy – Hovvdy

The Howl & The Hum - Same Mistake Twice

Ibibio Sound Machine - Pull The Rope

IDLES - TANGK

Jack White - No Name

James - Yummy

John Grant - The Art of the Lie

Kamasi Washington - Fearless Movement

The Libertines - All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade

Lime Garden - One More Thing

Los Campesinos! - All Hell

Maggie Rogers - Don't Forget Me

Maxïmo Park - Stream of Life

MGMT - Loss of Life

MJ Lenderman - Manning Fireworks

Mount Eerie - Night Palace

NewDad - MADRA

nothing,nowhere - Dark Magic / Hell or Highwater / Miserymaker

Orlando Weeks - LOJA 

Rahim Redcar - HOPECORE

Remi Wolf - Big Ideas

Schoolboy Q - Blue Lips

Sega Bodega - Dennis

Sick Love – Champagne

The Smashing Pumpkins - Aghori Mhori Mei

The Smile – Cutouts

Sprints – Letter to Self

Tycho - Infinite Health

Vince Staples - Dark Times

Waxahatchee - Tigers Blood

So that’s what didn’t quite make it!

Now, join me throughout December as I reveal my Top 50 Albums of the Year, My Favourite EPs of the Year, My Favourite Live Shows of 2024 and My Top 100 Songs of 2024 Playlist.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Musings-of-a-rose's Fic Recs

Musings-of-a-rose’s fic rec list (never complete and always adding!)

This will always be a work in progress, as I will always be adding fics! 

If you need more and can’t wait for me to update, you can search on my blog for #fic rec and all of them will come up!

Frankie “Catfish” Morales:

Fix You by @astoryisaloveaffair

Howl by @astoryisaloveaffair

My Drug is My Baby (age gap) by @astoryisaloveaffair

Run Through the Jungle by @astoryisaloveaffair

The Bachlorette AU by @icanbeyourjedi

Sex Worker Frankie AU by @prolix-yuy

Still of the Night (Signs/Triple Frontier mashup) by @foli-vora

Trustworthy by @need-a-fugue

The Candyman by @hopeamarsu (this is a series but I’m linking chapter 1 here)

Oberyn Martell:

Burning Bright by @tropes-and-tales

And So We Sing in Elegies by @haildoodles-writing

Pero Tovar:

My Mercenary Bold by @astoryisaloveaffair

Petrichor by @rainontherooftops

Cathedrals of Our Own by @haylzcyon

The Cross by @blueeyesatnight 

Safe Haven by @marvel-and-mischief

Wedding Night by @absurdthirst

Zach Wellison:

You’re So Classic by @chaoticgeminate

Inn Over Your Head by @javierpinme

Max Phillips:

Take the Pain Away by @icanbeyourjedi

Dave York:

Baby, Let the Games Begin by @wyn-n-tonic

Maxwell Lord:

Shutterbug by @lowlights

What’s Love Got to Do With It by @storiesofthefandomlovers

Din Djarin:

Healer by @bestintheparsec

Marcus Pike:

Our Last Christmas by @supernaturalgirl20

Javi G:

Insatiable by @javierpinme

Hush by @javier-pena

Agent Whiskey:

Harder to Hold by @brandyllyn

The Traveler by @silksaddle

Marcus Moreno:

Yo Te Prometo by @marvelousmermaid

Here Without You Now by @wyn-n-tonic

Javier Peña:

Better Love by @disgruntledspacedad

It Takes Two by @icanbeyourjedi

Self Sacrifice by @albertasunrise

Into the Dark by @juletheghoul

Hermosa by @keala on Ao3

Joel Miller:

Days of You and Me by @wyn-n-tonic 

That’s a Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic

Dieter Bravo:

Disturbia by @astoryisaloveaffair

Win a Date With Dieter Bravo by @icanbeyourjedi

Simulated by @prolix-yuy

Teacher Ben (SNL):

Love, Wings, and Football by @icanbeyourjedi

Rainy Days by @chaoticgeminate

Well Read by @wyn-n-tonic

The Thief

Enigma by @javier-pena

Tim Rockford:

Apple Pie America by @rainontherooftops

Jay Castillo:

The Wedding Date by @icanbeyourjedi

Triple Frontier Boys:

The Audition by @astoryisaloveaffair

Santiago “Pope” Garcia:

The Best of Us by @a-bang-for-your-bucky

Benjamin “Benny” Miller:

I Got Away With You by @mermaidxatxheart

I’ll Be Your Brightside by @dameronscopilot

Only You by @albertasunrise

Timing Is Everything by @theewokingdead

Benergy by @theewokingdead

La Primera Fiesta by @marvelousmermaid

Looking For You by @green-socks

Commitment Issues by @coweye

Sunshine State by @brewsterispunkk

William “Ironhead” Miller:

Return to Honeymoon by @carni-val

Bucky Barnes “Winter Soldier”:

Paint Me a Memory by @mermaidxatxheart

My One and Only by @mermaidxatxheart

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

Poe Dameron:

The Bet by @no-droids

The Art of Falling by @brandyllyn

Clint Barton “Hawkeye”:

Sure Shot by @astoryisaloveaffair

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range):

Sacred Oasis by @wyn-n-tonic

Selfish by @dameronscopilot

Lessons by @wyn-n-tonic

Tommy Miller (The Last of Us - HBO):

That’s a Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic

I’ll Have Another by @wyn-n-tonic

Violent Delights, Violent Ends by @ay0nha 

I Need You to Tell Me I’m Good by @psychedelic-ink

[stusbunker]

First Line Tag Game

The idea is to post the first line from the last ten fics you posted and see if there’s a trend. I was tagged by @illegalcerebral who is an amazing writer for Star Wars, Criminal Minds and other fandoms.

Forgetting Who We Were Supposed To Be (A Destiel Omegaverse fic I'm only posting on AO3) 9/11/24

Dean hit his alarm at four am, like every other day. He arrived at the bakery before five, turned on the ovens and pulled out the dough they had prepped the day before to get their product started for the day. He washed his hands and poured flour on the counter to begin rolling out the sweet rolls.

2. Spotless (Dean/Reader, Dean/Bela, Fake Dating Rockstar Slowburn) 12/7/23

You woke up overthinking. Like continuing a conversation with yourself from your dreams, the thoughts steamrolled you into consciousness. The band was in the studio for at least another week and you had to make sure the anticipation continued to build. You had a call scheduled at nine with the record label, Bobby and some other folks who you knew by name but not by face or voice.

3. Take Two (Destiel Omegaverse Dad fic from last year's DOBB) 8/30/23

Dean stared at the green glow of the alarm clock from across the bed. He always woke up before he had to, but today felt earlier than usual. His back ached, and his eyes felt like the exhaustion was sucking them backward into his skull. He didn't want to move.

4. Smoking Spirits on the Roof (Destiel College AU) 1/13/23

If anyone asked him, Dean just said it was what he had available. But if you really knew Dean, you’d know that the costume he wore that night was born from a deep seeded interest— some may call a fetish— in cowboy culture, films and legend.

5. Oasis (part of my Places Verse AU again Destiel) 12/4/22

    Dean stares at the shelf in unfocused paranoia. He feels exposed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the chain pharmacy and fumbling through the family planning aisle like a teenager on his way to prom, isn’t helping his nerves. He shifts on his crutches and exhales.      Cas is waiting in the car.     Cas.

6. The Places We Hide (Destiel Hermit/Divorce AU from DCBB 22) 10/18/22

The water erupts from the steaming faucet. Unfocused, Castiel stares at his hands as he scrubs, ignoring the mirror in front of him and the impossible white of the bathroom around him. He should get back to his desk, instead he lingers in the echoing emptiness of the fourth floor men’s room.  They called it a reshuffling. But what it was, what it feels like— is a demotion.

7. Wasted Potential (A Drowley Drabble from my 4Me 2U celebration) May of 22

Crowley didn’t know why they were lying there, legs entangled and breathing steady. Neither of them needed to sleep, afterall.

8. (W)hole ( Steve Rogers/Reader my only MCU so far) 3/7/22

Steve had known love before, knew anticipation and longing. Strove toward honor and valor and comfortable companionship. Until he met you, he thought he knew what love was. Now he knows it is an all-consuming, frustrating, festering pit of which he knows no way out of. And still he seeks it out.

9. Desperate Measures (Young Dean Omegaverse AU) 2/20/22

Dean walks up to the second floor offices with twelve bucks in his wallet and rent due in two days. He’s twenty one and has called this town home for only seven months. But Sam has made friends at school and John’s been less than present the past two months. It’s time to get serious.

10. Barstools and Backrooms (Chestervelle Omegaverse two parter) 2/4/22

This isn’t the first time she’s sensed him, felt his inner omega hide from her very presence. It is the first time she’s certain it’s not from repulsion, but from fear. A guy like Dean, doesn’t seem likely he hasn’t taken a knot; the hunting life is never that simple. So it probably isn’t a sexual insecurity, but that still doesn’t ease the tension between them, the silent truce each time they see each other thickening whenever she invades his space.

Well, the first few definitely tell me I start with waking up too often, lol. I was better at jumping into the action in the past, also used to be much more lyrical.

Could have been worse a discovery, but I definitely need to nail the next fic's first line now.

I could not tell you off the top of my head what the last ten fics I've posted even were, since I've been doing bangs and long fics for so long. So sorry if you've never heard of these fics before, it was a deep dive. I ended up using AO3 mostly for dates, but I'm sure I missed some drabbles or something.

No pressure tags:

@lastactiontricia @thoughtslikeaminefield @mrswhozeewhatsis @rockhoochie @there-must-be-a-lock @kazsrm67 @deanwinchesterswitch @malicmalic

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

This is for @smoking-old-toby's Bagginshield Firefly Day mini event! 🤩For anybody who has read my fic The Twelve Transformations of Bilbo Baggins, you'll notice I poached a bit from the story (just because I loved that scene so much). Otherwise, please enjoy my small contribution of pre-slash Bagginshield. 🥰

A Light in the Dark

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Words: 2560

Continuation of the Snow Hobbits Universe

Bilbo stepped away from the chatter and shenanigans of his traveling companions and out onto the beautiful balconies of Imladris once again. He sighed to himself as he leaned against the railing. The view was absolutely gorgeous. Even at night, Rivendell was a true oasis. 

“And just where have you been all day, may I ask?”

Bilbo swore he jumped a foot in the air as he whirled around, his hand over his heart.

“Thorin?!”

Said dwarf stepped out onto the alcove, that infuriating smirk ever present on his face. 

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings, Burglar.”

“Well excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to be on the alert for danger in a literal sanctuary.”

Bilbo cursed his quick tongue the moment after he had said it. He had been doing his best not to aggravate Thorin who seemed to get annoyed by something as easy as Bilbo setting his bedroll in the wrong spot. Luckily for Bilbo, Thorin didn’t do anything more than glower and cross his arms as he came to stand next to him. 

Bilbo shifted on his feet as he drummed his fingers against the railing and shot Thorin a few questioning glances as often as he could without getting caught. His shoulders felt tight, and he could not even begin to come up with a reason for why the dwarf king was still here. His hobbit sensibilities encouraged him to come up with a topic, any topic, to engage Thorin in conversation. However, his mind was painfully blank. Just when he thought it would be better to bid Thorin good evening and wander aimlessly, a small spot of green light danced out in front of him before disappearing. Bilbo laughed in delight as another joined it and soon an entire swarm of blinking green lights existed on the patio.

“Lightning bugs!” He exclaimed in delight.

“Hmm?” Thorin asked without actually saying anything.

Bilbo shot him a curious look braving the subject hesitantly.

“Have you…ever seen lightning bugs before?”

Thorin merely snorted as his eyes followed the dots of light as well. 

“We call them fireflies and yes. I have seen them before.”

That figures. It was a rather stupid question on Bilbo’s part. After all, they were a fairly common insect. A memory from long ago came bidden, and with a fond smile, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel compelled to retell it. 

“You know, I never liked the dark.” He admitted. “I could make up so many monsters that had somehow appeared in dark corners. So when I was little, my mum and I used to spend the evening catching lightning bugs and putting them in a jar. We would then place the jar next to my bed before I went to sleep, and the glow would comfort me. However, I’d always wake up the next morning…and they’d be gone! I figured out later in life, my mum would come in and let them out through the window. Much too kind to let them die overnight, but… I always just thought they turned into dreams.”

Thorin hummed again, and Bilbo was content to believe that would be the end of their odd, one-sided conversation. At least it couldn’t be said he didn’t try. He watched as one of the bugs landed on Thorin’s outstretched hand before the dwarf blew it away. 

“We didn’t have fireflies inside the mountain when I was a pebble. But we had glow worms that would cling to the stalactites in the deep caverns. Their light was more blue than green. Still after Smaug came, and we were spending so many nights camped out under the stars, I would see the fireflies and think…the glow worms sprouted wings and followed after us. Because even they couldn’t stand us not being back in our mountain home.”

“You must miss it terribly.” Bilbo determined, softening just a little at the admission.

Thorin gave a jerky nod, his eyes still carrying out over the lawn. 

“There are parts that I do. And then there are other parts I don’t.”

Bilbo perked up in surprise at this.

“Like what?”

The corners of Thorin’s lips quirked up in a false smile as his eyes seemed to scream in protest. 

“You’ll think me odd.” 

It was such a simple statement, but it carried a weight to it. There was no hesitation. No doubt. Clearly, it was something Thorin had heard many times in his life. It was almost overwhelming in how perplexed it made Bilbo. Thorin Oakenshield? Hero, king, natural born leader, odd? It didn’t add up to Bilbo. And yet…

Bilbo moved closer to Thorin, just enough so that way he could bump Thorin’s arm with his shoulder, giving a quick flash of a grin as he did so. When he felt he had the courage to meet Thorin’s eyes, he held them making sure Thorin knew how seriously he took his admission.

“I certainly know a thing or two about being odd. Would you expect another hobbit to go running out his smial after you lot? You are in good company here, Master Oakenshield.”

Thorin immediately ducked his head, and if Bilbo wasn’t so sure it was an emotion he deemed beyond Thorin Oakenshield, he would almost say that he reacted shyly. 

“I also don’t like the dark.” He claimed in a soft, near whisper. “I wasn’t afraid of it, but…mountain caves are darker than dark. I mean, look at this.” 

Thorin’s arms swept out over the view before them.

“The stars, the moon, even your insects. Even when it’s dark you can still see. The mountain isn’t like that. You’re just…trapped and blind. And the pressure! There is nothing like the pressure of having an entire mountain looming above you, and you’re the one who has to shoulder the responsibility, you’re the one who has to rise to meet their expectations…”

“Their?” Bilbo interrupted carefully.

Thorin’s mouth clicked closed and his eyes widened. Bilbo realized he hadn’t intended to share that much. It was nice though. It was nice to know that Thorin had trusted him with such thoughts that Bilbo wanted to let him know it was okay in the only way he knew how. He reached out and gave Thorin’s hand a small squeeze. The dwarf sucked in a sharp breath at the gesture before pulling away. He climbed up the three steps to go back inside, and Bilbo absolutely could not leave things this way. 

“Thorin!” He called spinning around to face the retreating figure. 

Thorin stopped, but would not face him.

“I’m…I’m glad you told me. It sounds like it’s something you’ve needed to say for a long time.”

He watched as the dwarf’s jaw locked, and when he turned to meet Bilbo’s eyes, it was not the open, inviting look he had expected.

“Make no mistake, Halfling. My father and grandfather were great dwarves. They made me who I am today! I’m not…There’s nothing…”

Before Thorin could say whatever it was he was trying to say, voices drifted towards them from below. Bilbo slowly turned away from Thorin to see Gandalf and Elrond walking with purpose. 

“Of course I was going to tell you. I was waiting for this very chance. And I think you can trust me that I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Elrond returned briskly, not sounding at all how he did when he and Bilbo met earlier. “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you should wake the beast?”

Bilbo rather hoped Thorin had left at that point as the taller beings’ conversation drifted to using Erebor as a stronghold against darker foes. Bilbo was certain it was sound logic, he just wished it didn’t sound so…cold. Erebor should be reclaimed because an entire population was displaced due to a fowl creature wanting their resources. Why couldn’t that be enough?

Bilbo risked a glance backwards only to find Thorin had not left. He stood still listening to the callous words of ancient beings, and could only hold his head high against the onslaught. Bilbo felt more irked by the conversation now.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep within that family.”

Oh. Bilbo could only replay the conversation from earlier in his head. Thorin’s immediate defense of his grandfather while simultaneously feeling trapped. It all made sense now. Bilbo watched out of the corner of his eye as Thorin looked away almost in shame as the two beings continued their argument before finally disappearing around the corner. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bilbo turned around to confront Thorin on what he heard.

“Thorin…”

“I am not my grandfather.” Thorin growled, cutting Bilbo off before he could begin. “They know not of what they speak.”

Bilbo didn’t want to prickle Thorin further, but he couldn’t help realizing it suddenly all made sense! Bilbo had thought he was particularly obtuse and standoffish because of a superiority complex. But it was a defense mechanism! A way to push aside people who have compared Thorin to a mad king. To someone he trusted only to be disappointed in later. 

“I was actually going to say that it’s okay. It’s okay to love them…and acknowledge their flaws.”

Thorin’s eyes seemed to pierce him sharply as Bilbo continued to pick out the right words.

“I know I certainly haven’t lived up to my family’s expectations, but I imagine that’s not a fair comparison considering for me it was being adventurous and for you it’s…staying sane.”

A grunt escaped Thorin at that, and it was only by his upturned lips that Bilbo recognized it to be some form of chuckle. Well, he couldn’t be doing too poorly then.

“I just think, there’s nothing wrong in seeking…a light in the darkness.”

Thorin quickly sucked in a lungful of air while Bilbo stood there, wondering if it would be too much to touch Thorin again. Just for a quick moment. Before he could work up the courage, Thorin was taking another step up the staircase. Bilbo immediately took one backwards to increase the distance Thorin was clearly after. He tried not to be too disappointed by the development. In any case, he did feel like he had bonded with their leader which should hopefully make things better on the road.

“Right, well…Good night, Thorin.” Bilbo stammered, turning the other way.

“Master Baggins!” Thorin’s voice suddenly halted him.

Bilbo turned back feeling just a bit breathless.

“Thank you.” Came the soft admission.

Bilbo’s heart felt like it was exploding as a bright grin lit his face.

“You are most welcome.”

“Get some sleep. We’ll be leaving soon.”

With those being the final words before his departure, Bilbo watched as Thorin disappeared into the corridor. Bilbo hoped his words would keep Thorin from dwelling on his family’s madness for too long. He actually made Thorin smile…and laugh! Emotions Bilbo thought the dwarf was devoid of whenever in his presence. It was a heady feeling indeed that he almost gave a shout in his excitement. 

It was as he was heading back, nearly skipping, that a little tiny bug landed on his nose. It blinked once and blinked again when Bilbo reached up to transfer it to his finger.

“Of course, many thanks to you my friend. We might not have ever made this kind of progress otherwise.”

Interested in Bilbo’s whispered words or not, the lightning bug twitched its wings at Bilbo before joining its kin in the night sky once more.

***

"Thorin! Where are we going?" Bilbo laughed, continuing to let the dwarf pull him forward by the hand. 

"Just a little further, lukhudel (light of all lights)."

After the past couple of years, Bilbo had grown more used to how dark it could get in the mountain, but the deep places where he couldn't see the hand in front of his face were places he avoided. However, Thorin was confident in his steps and gentle in his urging, and Bilbo knew he couldn't be safer. The terrain finally began to level out, and Bilbo could just make out some sort of blue light ahead. Bilbo could barely make out the flash of teeth in Thorin's grin by the glow as he announced they had arrived. They turned a corner and...

"It's beautiful!" Bilbo marveled.

The cavern's walls and ceilings were practically dripping with the odd blue glow. It fully lit the space, glittering off the surface of the shallow pool below them. Bilbo turned to Thorin, only to be a bit surprised at his appearance. The glow somehow only managed to bounce off his teeth, his nails, and the silver of his hair. The rest of his intended was left in shadow. Bilbo tilted his head. It was almost as if the glow somehow highlighted the lighter colors of a person...

Bilbo huffed as he pulled on his snowy hair. "I must look ridiculous right now."

Thorin laughed as he stepped forward to press a kiss to the crown of Bilbo's head. "You are perfect. I will confess it was this effect I was after when I planned to show you the glow worm cavern for the first time."

A conversation, from long ago, niggled at the back of Bilbo's mind as his scanned his surroundings with a renewed interest. A smile pulled at his face as he remembered a balcony in Rivendell and the friendly fireflies who gave him the courage to talk to Thorin for the first time. Thorin's hand moved to cup his face, and Bilbo leaned into his hand, given a kiss to his palm.

"We've come so far." Bilbo commented.

"We have indeed, all thanks to you." Thorin murmured before pressing a soft kiss against his lips. 

Bilbo returned the peck a second and third time before continuing their conversation.

"That may be exaggerating a bit."

Thorin chuckled while shaking his head. "No, mudùmel (comfort of all comforts). It's true. You see, I realized that night in Rivendell that perhaps Bilbo Baggins, the strange and infuriating hobbit in my Company, who had the ability to leave me breathless in just a few words, could perhaps be my light in the darkness. And here you are, the night before we are to say our vows, literally glowing in front of me."