#but there’s a very real chance i could squeeze all that in with just eight hours.

[vampiricstoryteller]

Moonlight 🌙

Happy Friday everyone! I’m finally ready to present to y’all the first chapter of my new Richette series! Welcome to Moonlight!

Summary: Separated from the others, Richter and Annette must spend a night defending themselves from a demon that plays sinister mind games by turning dreams into nightmares.

All mistakes are my own 😊

read on A03 here

Warning: a few scary bits

Chapter one: Day Dreamer

Annette always found solace in her dreams. No matter what was happening in the real world, her dreams were an escape. She loved being able to dream.

When she’d been young, frightened and freshly taken from her mother; Annette forced herself into dreamland more often than she was awake. Even when her eyes were open, Annette’s mind was somewhere else far, far away.

Her brothers and sisters called her a Day Dreamer but Annette really wished she could pull a few of them inside of her mind and show them that to her, it was so much more than just dreaming.

It was survival.

It was paradise.

And Annette is sure it’s what’s kept her sane.

She could go anywhere and do anything in her dreams; fly across the ocean, run through never ending lavender fields, hold long conversations with tigers or fish, sit on a boulder at the very tip top of a mountain and breathe.

The possibilities were endless.

So Annette considers herself lucky that once she starts hunting vampires and night creatures, they don’t come for her dreams. Or maybe they can’t. She isn’t really sure, but every night when she lays down to sleep, after having sent dozens of the monsters back to their maker, she does her best to push all thoughts of the evilness surrounding her far out of her mind. Then she imagines walls standing themselves up around her dream world for protection.

And for a while it works.

Until she and Richter find themselves separated from the others, stranded, soaked to the bone from a fall into the river and now shivering while defending a weirdly abandoned and disarrayed cabin from a group of a low level but feral night creatures.

She is so so so tired.

Annette’s just finished barricading the front door with the boot bench she nearly tripped over upon entering. Tilted on its side and wedged underneath the door handle, she holds it steady and breathes through her nose as long heavy strips of magic she materialized secure the bench in place.

Behind her Richter stacks two chairs and a barely standing table horizontally over one of three windows. Outside eight night creatures scream and howl thunderously as they seem to chitter amongst themselves about how to get inside and attack.

She peeks at them through one of the bigger cracks in the door, watching them intently. They reminded her of Edouard, in a way. Their mannerism with each other less monster and more human though it was clear none of these ones could speak actual words.

Richter steps close behind her, “what’s happening out there?” He asks softly, one of his hands grips her bicep. “Annette?”

She shakes her head, leaning back against him and whispering. “They’re……talking with one another? I think trying to plan?”

Richter makes a face, squeezing her arm and he says, “I’ll go around back and surprise them, you stay here and cover those last two windows.”

Annette’s eyebrows drop into a hard frown but Richter shakes his head.

“We’ve got maybe thirty minutes before the sun is gone.” He tells her quickly, tugging her away from the door. “We’re going to have to sleep here. I need you to start reenforcing the foundation.”

She chews on her bottom lip, knowing he’s right and they have a better chance surviving til morning here than out in the woods trying to back track in the dark and find the others. She meets Richter’s gaze, nodding once and murmuring,

“Be careful, don’t let any of them escape.”

“I won’t.” Richter promises and squeezes her arm one last time before they part ways.

She watches him quietly sprint towards the back of the cabin, a smile gracing her lips when he remembers to pull the door shut behind him.

Annette tip toes over to the second window, picking up a dusty and dirty table cloth on her way which she uses to cover the window. Just as she begins stacking the last two chairs in they have in front of it, she hears Richter attack the night creatures outside.

She listens to his grunts of effort and the sound of his fists breaking the night creatures bones, chuckling at him clearly using the opportunity to warm up after their icy journey down however many miles the river carried them.

Placing her hands on the seats of the stacked chairs, Annette bites her lip and presses down with her magic. At her feet, the ground opens enough to grab hold of several inches of the chair legs; turning the unsteady barrier into something pillar like.

As she steps back, Annette’s arms begin to tingle with exhaustion; the palms of her hands hot like she’s unknowingly taken hold of hot coals.

She tries to ignore the feeling as a small dark fireplace off to her right catches her eye. All of the tools needed to stoke a fire, keep it going and put it out are untouched and remain neatly arranged on hooks. Upon closer inspection, Annette spots several half burnt pieces of logs in the pit and she wonders if whoever lived her was forced out much more recently than they’d realized.

A great thud shakes the cabin, nearly startling her out of her skin. Richter has sent a night creature hurtling into the wall and Annette can hear it choking on its own blood as she hurries over to the last window near the back door.

Looking around, Annette scrambles for a moment, everything is the house is either broken beyond repair or not remotely sturdy enough to bother put in the effort of securing it against the window as a guard.

She decided that a pile of bricks, strung haphazardly in a corner for whatever forgotten reason will have to do. They’re heavier than they should be in her hands and Annette wonders, as she meticulously builds them up on the ledge, whether or not she’ll end up in a exhausted dreamless pit when she’s finally able to close her eyes.

Outside there’s one final screech of shock from a night creature, followed by Richter’s deep growl of “shut the fuck up”, a sickening crunch and then silence.

Annette sways on her feet a bit, squinting at the bricks layering the window. Her attempt to root them in place is weak at best but it will have to do for now.

The tips of her fingers pulse in and out of numbness, making her flex the digits and clench her firsts several times over. She turns to face Richter when he comes through the back door, an exhausted smile on his face.

“Everything out there has been handled,” he says proudly. “I even had time to wipe our tracks all the way back to river, and!”

He shifts his body, revealing to her that he’s got two fish hanging off his thumb; he holds them up high and his grin practically splits his face in half.

“Look at you,” Annette murmurs wrapping her arms around herself. “Thinking ahead for once in your life.”

Richter’s eyes sweep over her entirely, “I figured we could use a bit of a reward for the day we’ve had.” He glances around the abandoned cabin. “Not sure how we’ll cook them though.”

Annette turns slightly and points towards the window she built the chair tower in front of. “There’s a small fireplace over there, we can make it work.”

Richter nods, his footsteps quiet as he hangs the fish on a left over meat hook that hangs in front of the chimney that may or may not be blocks. Annette can’t be bothered to worry about it right now, they’ll find out either way soon enough.

She closes her eyes for a moment, frowning at the unusual headache that has settled itself right behind her temples. Richter’s boots on the dirt floor alert her to the fact he’s returned to her side and when Annette blinks her eyes open blearily, she can see the concern radiating from him.

“Annette, are you okay?” He asks. “Did you get hurt?”

She shakes her head, “Just cold and tired, my head feels like I must of hit it on some rocks or something.”

Richter moves into her space immediately, bending his knees so he can lean close as he hovered around her head. “I don’t see any blood, do you want me to check?”

Annette chuckles and pats his shoulder, shaking her head. “I’m fine Richter, it’s just been a long day.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “What I do want though, is for you to start the fire and make us some fish.”

He blinks, meeting her eyes for a moment before nodding happily and clapping his hands together. “Right, fire, dinner. I can do that.”

Richter points towards the two windows she secured. “You did good, Annette. I’ll freeze the back door when I’m done with the wood.”

“Okay,” she nods, happy to have a plan. “I’ll look and see if there are any salvageable blankets or clothes.”

She can feel Richter’s eyes on her back as she turns, walking stiffly from the kitchen back into the sitting room; if the two rooms could even be seriously labeled as such. Annette ignores him but keeps her ears tuned to his footsteps while he collects tree branches in close proximity.

She takes her time rummaging through the ransacked mess thats strewn all over the place, picking through some strangers mess makes her feel overtly exposed and more than once she catches herself looking over her shoulder towards the barricaded door.

Shaking herself, Annette drapes a torn but thick blanket over her arm and even comes across a winter coat, though it’s missing the entire right sleeve. She’s also able to recover a pair of relatively clean socks and half of a bedroll.

Mumbling a quick prayer of thanks, she sets the clothing and blanket aside to focus on clearing space in front of the fire for them. She mostly just shoves everything towards the door until she’s shaking from effort and wobbly when standing straight.

She’s on the second to last pile when Richter’s rhythmic footsteps bring him inside and from the corner of her eye Annette watches him emerge with fire wood stacked in his arms to the point she almost can’t make out his face.

“This should be enough right?” He asks his boots thudding as he side steps over to the fireplace.

“More than enough Richter,” Annette chuckles. “Why did you get so much? We’ll only be here one night.”

He drops the wood at the mouth of the fireplace and crouches to be begin neatly lining it a long the wall. After the first few pieces, he turns his head towards her and says,

“You’ve been shaking since we got here. So, either you’re much colder than I am or you’re hurt and hiding it from me.” He offers her a easy smile when she bristles. “Either way we have to get you warm, so I’m going to keep the fire going all night.”

Annette shuffles her weight between her feet, letting her shoulders sag a bit. She should have known she wouldn’t be able to hide how much the days events had truly wiped her.

“I’m not hurt, not really.” She replies shrugging. “Probably be bruised up tomorrow and the day after but, I’m just tired, Richter.”

She pushes a few still damp locs out of her eyes. “I found a few things we can use to help stay warm.” Motioning to the pile she set aside, Annette tilts her head and theorizes aloud. “The blanket is big enough to share, it’s got a tear in it but it’s manable, and the coat will fit you. The bedroll will be a tight fit but the shared body heat is probably our best bet to not freeze.”

Richter nods, done stacking the wood in rows along the wall and immediately setting to work on getting the fire going. While he double checks the the opening of the chimney is clear; by tossing several chunks of ice up and cheering when they hear them rolling off the roof, Annette sets the bedroll on the flattest part of the ground that she can find, angling it so that they’ll face the fireplace and have a wall at their back for protection.

She has just settled on the ground and began unlacing her boots when the Richter claps in triumph and jumps to his feet happily. Turning to face her, he grins and motions down the pit of the fireplace, where a bright orange flame has rippled to life and grows steadily.

Annette claps for him, thoroughly amused by the way he keens under her praise.

He steps over to the bedroll, watching her tug off her boots and peel off her still soaked socks. She lays them out in front of the fire and wiggles her toes, happy to have her feet free from confinement.

“I figured we can lay our clothes out to dry while we slept.” Annette says lightly,

Richter looks down at himself the same time her eyes sweep over his figure. He discards his shirt first, both of them ignoring the blushes that break out over their faces, hanging it next to the fish he caught and shrugs on the winter coat Annette points him towards.

With his back to her, Annette wiggles out of her damp pants; begrudging the fact that her now loose shirt, sort of dry undergarments and the socks she’d salvaged would have to serve as sleeping clothes for the night.

She spreads the slightly torn blanket over her lap, pleased when it cascades out across the ground like an ocean. Richter’s boots hitting the ground with a jumbled thud brings Annette’s attention back to him.

He’s moved back over to the fireplace, poking at some of the logs to give them pockets of air. His socks and shoes are gone, his pant legs rolled up to his knees and the coat Annette found for him is draped over his shoulders like a cape.

Annette wants to be annoyed at herself for how much she’s staring at his bare chest but if she tries to have more than one or two complex thoughts the ache behind her temples starts up again.

She’ll scold herself tomorrow after she’s had a nice long visit to somewhere peaceful in her dreams.

They stay in comfortable silence while Richter guts and cleans the fish, throwing the unnecessary parts into the center of the fire; giving the cabin a strange fish like aroma and Annette huddles under the blanket, her knees drawn up to her chest as she tries to focus on warming up.

She still can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching them and her eyes dart from window to window while she rubs rhythmically at her shins. It’s not until Richter hands her a broken plate with slightly charred meat on it that Annette is able to pull her gaze back to the fire and man in front of her.

“Where’d you go?” Richter asks softly as he sits next to her on the bedroll.

Throwing him a confused look, Annette gathers a bit of fish between her fingers and scoops it into her mouth.

“I’m right here, Richter.” She says around the mouthful.

He chuckles, fingers scraping at his own food. “You’re here physically yes but there’s such a far away look in your eye.” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

Annette shakes her head, lowering her plate into her lap.

“Today has just been…..off…” she glances at the closest window again. “Us being separated from the group, being pushed into the river, the strange night creatures and now……”

Richter reaches over, placing one of his hands on top of hers; his is massive compared to hers but Annette sighs contently at the feeling.

“I have this unsettling feeling that we are being watched, by something that we cannot see.” She whispers, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

She’s not scared, she knows she’s not; so why is her body acting this way?

Richter squeezes her hand and when they meet eyes he nods slowly.

“I feel it too.” He murmurs.

Annette’s eyes widen and she scoots closer to Richter even though there’s only inches between them to start.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” He explains. “I’ve searched and looked everywhere but we’re here alone,”

“And yet……” she trails off.

“It hasn’t tried to harm us yet, maybe it’s simply curious.” Richter shrugs. “Let’s just finish eating and try to sleep, we can leave at first light.”

Annette nods, shivering when he pulls his hand away to return eating. She does the same, her fingers still dipping in and out of numbness as she tries to focus on only the food in front of her and not the feeling of dread that’s curling in her stomach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t take long for them to figure out a sleeping arrangement that will keep them close, warm and comfortable. Well, it doesn’t take long but it does take a lot of shuffling, blushing and slotting their bodies together while they lay on their sides on the shredded bedroll.

Annette protests at Richter’s insistence that she have the blanket and she tries to ignore the way his ears turn red when he finally noticed that her legs are bare.

“You’re being ridiculous, Richter.” She sighs in exasperation. “The blanket is big enough for the both of us, and that coat is missing a sleeve it’s not enough to keep you warm.”

She opens the blanket to him, pleased when it seems he’s going to scoot closer and she fluffs the fabric a bit then tosses it over him. But the Belmont surprises her by shifting onto his back, putting his arm around her and tucking her practically on top of him.

“Richter!” Annette hisses, her face warming when she looks up at him and realizes their faces are closer than they’ve probably ever been.

He only grins in response, the coat draped over his shoulder thats out in the open while he curls one arm around Annette’s lower back. His hand coming to rest lightly on her hip.

“You need me to have some of the blanket, I need you to have some of my body heat.” He says casually, adjusting the blanket where he thinks it’s needed. “We both get what we want this way.”

Annette rolls her eyes fondly, “I hardly think today was anything like what either of us want.”

She rests her head on his chest slowly, her ear over his heart and the steady thump of the organ is the first real comfort she’s had all day.

Annette lets out a breath, her body relaxing against Richter as she exhales deeply and closes her eyes. Richter squeezes her hip, his voice low when he speaks,

“Annette, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

She keeps her eyes closed, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

“Yes, I know.” She whispers, her fingers press into his side and find the spaces between his ribs. “Tomorrow will be better Richter, I just need to rest.”

Annette’s not completely sure if he responds or not, because her mind is finally descending towards sleep and that’s all she has wanted since breakfast. She leans into the darkness, knowing her dreams are just on the other side of unconsciousness and that Richter is there in reality to protect her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richter keeps his grip on Annette tight as he feels her drop off into sleep. She needs it. She deserves it. And Richter finds that more and more every day, he is willing to do anything to make sure Annette gets everything good she deserves.

She’s not wrong that the entire day had been off. There’d been a change in the air, a scent that lingered under his nose all day, a shadow that followed behind them just far enough to be dismissed as a trick of the light.

Something was stalking them.

Hunting Annette.

Richter could tell she was the target by how quickly the day drained her, how far away her mind retreated when her body sensed she had become someone’s prey.

And Richter feared that whatever it was had intentionally set its sight upon Annette, purposely separated them from the others and now had something sinister planned. It wanted them isolated. It wanted Annette alone and vulnerable.

He had to figure out why, he had to figure out how to kill it because even as she sleeps in his arms hidden away by the blanket and him; Annette still shakes. She’s afraid, subconsciously, which makes it all the worse.

It’s like she knows something means to take her from him. Like she’s preparing for it.

Which is why Richter vows to himself, as he lays on the ground holding the small Haitian to his chest; and from the corner of his eye watching the dark figure that stands statue still out the window he barricaded,

‘No one is going to take you from me, Annette.’ He promises, bringing one hand up to hide her face away with the blanket. ‘I’ll kill God himself before I let you go.’

To Be Continued……..

Chapter 2 will be out tomorrow around this time 🤟🏾

[lexalovesbooks]

Oh my god I’m trying to work out what classes to take for my last semester and apparently I technically only need. four hours to graduate afjafkagnsg

[princessfbi]

Cuddling with caretaker in a warm shower/bath + buddie

Buck shuddered against him, making the water ripple around them in tiny waves against the porcelain of the tub. The smallest of whimpers croaked past dry swollen lips and Eddie shushed the noise as it puffed against the hollow skin of his throat.

“I know, baby,” he said, dipping the washcloth into the water before squeezing it at the base of Buck’s shoulders so the water would cascade down his spine.

Eddie had tried to talk Buck into letting him stay out on the side so he could have the complete space of the tub for his long limbs to curl into. But one choked plea and a pair of red rimmed, exhausted blue eyes had had Eddie stripping off his clothes and joining him. Buck had barely let Eddie get situated before he turned on his front and curled into Eddie’s chest, shivering from the fever induced chill that had been wrecking his system for over forty-eight hours.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Buck so sick. Worry had prickled under his skin and latched on with nettles so he couldn’t shake it off, practically drawing blood the longer and longer Buck’s fever raged on.

At least he wasn’t heaving though. Not that Eddie thought he could. Buck had barely been able to stand let alone work up the bile and empty air and the very few sips of water he’d managed to get down.

His stomach, however, hadn’t seemed to get the picture.

Every chance Buck drifted off to sleep had been interrupted with a whine and a curl of his body. He’d thought the hot bath would help. Or, if anything, would allow Buck’s body to unclench so he wasn’t in so much pain!

It had worked for a while. Eddie’s butt had gone numb and the water lukewarm that he’d had to add some more hot water by stretching up to the turn the faucet with his toe. But Buck had relaxed against his chest and hid his too cold nose against the base of Eddie’s throat. Eddie had kept up his ministrations, trickling water down his back and sweeping his hands so he could give him just a little bit of warmth; so he could take the pain away for just a little bit longer. Eventually, Buck had drifted and if he hadn’t been asleep then he’d at least gotten close. Eddie would’ve happily stayed there for ever.

Buck twitched against him and Eddie braced himself for the worst of it. His arm was half way out of the tub to grab the trash can he’d pulled over before they got in. Eddie locked down the panic in his throat that wanted to claw its way to his heart with all the racing thoughts in his head.

No. No please. He can’t keep doing this. He needs these fluids. He’s already suffered enough. Please. Please. Please!

He’d promised Buck no hospital but that creeping realization that the very real possibility that he may have to break that promise very soon was getting closer and closer each second Buck didn’t get better.

Buck pressed his face into the hollow of Eddie’s throat, stiffening like he was frozen in time, and Eddie waited.

There wasn’t much else he could do. Not without IVs and people with more medical knowledge than he had under his belt.

But then Buck sighed and he sagged further into Eddie’s as the water shifted around them.

Eddie pressed a kiss against Buck’s head and dunked the washcloth back into the water.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said as he curled an arm around Buck and squeezed out the water over Buck’s spine. Buck whimpered again as he burrowed impossibly close and settled deeper into Eddie’s hold. “It’s okay.”

[3-2-whump]

The Party

<prev next>

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

 “Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

-

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Eight

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: DRINKING / ALCOHOL (bigger warning because they are actively drinking in this one, not just in the bar) Swearing, Sex is mentioned (not had) A LOT of ridiculous puns and jokes, Slow Burn is REAL, Halloween Costumes, Brotherly Banter (gentle bullying) and finally, our favorite warning, YEARNING.

Word Count: 7k (longest so far!!)

Summary: IT'S HALLOWEEN BABES; Josh decides to decorate the bar for the holiday and so, they make it into a little party. Jake hesitates on what to do about Charlotte, but goes with his gut. And BOY IS THAT A LITTLE TREAT.

Author's Note: I said this week would be a sweet treat and I think that you'll find that it is! I don't want to spoil the surprise but, I think you'll be excited to see what it is 🤭 See you on the other side!

More Than Friends - Aidan Bissett "Girl, lets be more than friends, I know you're thinking the same thing."

Jake POV 

“You know, whatever you decide to hang up, we need to be able to get down, right?” 

I stand there watching Josh not so carefully hanging off the ladder’s top step. Quinn looks less than impressed while they stand on the bottom step.

“Maybe Jake is onto something, Josh Groban,” they tell him. 

Josh stops, looks back with a glare, and then returns to whatever he is trying to do. 

I look over at them, both of us shaking our heads, knowing that Josh will do whatever he damn well pleases. 

“He’s your problem to deal with now,” I tell them, gently squeezing their shoulders as I pass by. 

Deciding to make sure the bar is fully stocked for the night, I can’t help but eavesdrop on Sam and Willa as they try to get ‘cute post-worthy’ pictures for the bar’s Instagram. 

“Sam, can you just work with me?” Willa asks, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“Birdie, you know this is also my job?” 

“Yeah, well, last time you took promo photos, you stole all my flowers, AND you hated the outcome. So, maybe just listen to me?” 

“I’m not trying to be difficult, little bird,” Sam says, “You just need to relax.”

“When has telling a girl to relax ever ended well for you?” 

I was chuckling to myself as I listened to them and took notes of what needed to be pulled from the back. I hate dragging myself away from the free entertainment, but I need to keep moving so the bar can be ready tonight. 

I wasn’t the one who came up with the idea to do a themed night; you can only imagine who suggested it, but people have been talking about it lately, so maybe it was a good choice. Even though I had to explain to Josh that we cannot require people to wear costumes, I think it’ll be fun to see everyone dressed up. 

Looking at the back stock and pulling out the things we’ll need, I hear footsteps approaching me. I simply glanced at the doorway to finally be met with Josh’s presence. 

“So.. are you going to invite her?” 

My eyebrows pull together a bit, “Who?”

“Your First Mate,” Josh says, wiggling his eyebrows at me. 

“Oh shut up,” I quip back, “I was thinking about it.” 

Regret has never hit me quicker. 

“OH ARE YOU NOW?”

“I mean… you saw her the other day, Josh. She’s obviously not having a great time and the fact she has to keep coming here, I may as well at least extend the offer.” I tell him, “Even if she’ll probably say no.” Quickly, I look back at my notes to make sure I’m not forgetting anything before walking back out to the bar. 

“Well, you have been talking to her,” he says. 

“We’ve texted .. a little bit,” I tell him, knowing that he will pry for more information, “BUT– it’s nothing crazy. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” 

He follows me, offering no assistance carrying anything but absolutely still trying to make something out of nothing. 

“That’s very you… of you to do.” 

Both of us looked vaguely unimpressed at that statement. 

“Okay, that wasn’t my best work. I’m just saying that maybe there’s a chance you two could be something of an item,” he tells me, a little too giddy for my liking. 

Setting everything on the bar abruptly, “Jesus Christ, Josh. Just because I’m nice to the girl doesn’t mean I want anything more.” I’m trying to sound convincing, even though I know he will call me on it at any moment. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, though. But for god’s sake, Josh doesn’t need to know that. 

“Okay, okay, alright, I’ll stop,” he starts, holding his hands up. But know that I will find out if anything happens between you two,” he squints at me before turning around to continue helping Quinn decorate. 

I watch as he finds himself busy again, but I can tell from a distance that he updates Quinn on his interrogation. If there is anything I know about my brother, it is that he will know everything about everyone all the time, which in turn means Quinn knows everything as well. I let out a small sigh while piling bottles of Modelo back into the fridge. Maybe I should just text her. Is that weird? She’s going to say no anyway. 

Still squatting down behind the bar, I pull my phone from my back pocket. Unlocking it to a handful of email notifications and a few texts from Sam that I ignored earlier.  I love him, but he doesn’t need to ask me every time if he can take some promo pics for the bar. 

I tap on her conversation; my thumbs hesitate for a second. Is this stupid? Am I wasting my metaphorical breath? Maybe she’ll appreciate the thought. 

Me: Hi there. How are you? Are you busy tonight by any chance?

I shove my phone back into my pocket before standing back up, grabbing the few loose cans and bottles across the bar, and tossing them. Looking around at the new decorations, they all have managed to get hung up already, and it’s definitely feeling much more festive. 

“Josh, can you–” I start, but I feel my phone vibrate, stopping me mid-question, “Uh, lost my train of thought. I’ll get back to you on that,” 

I grab my phone and see her name sitting there, making the heat rise in my face. 

Charlotte: No, I’m free. Why? 

The three dots pop up before I can reply, making me more nervous. 

Charlotte: Do you need help with something?

Me: nooo I don’t need anything from you. We’re just doing a little thing here for halloween and I thought I would see if you were interested. No pressure or anything lol.

Those god-forsaken three dots come back, then disappear, and reappear. There is no worse form of torture in the modern day than waiting for a text to pop up. 

Charlotte: Maybe

Okay… Well, it isn’t a no. I look up to find Josh directly in front of me, scaring the shit out of me. I didn’t realize he could be quiet enough to do that. 

“Can I help you?” 

“You looked very intrigued by whatever was on your phone there, brother,” Josh says, with a shitty little grin on his face. 

“Don’t you have things to be doing other than watching me use my phone?” I ask, not able to stop the slight eye roll that came along with it. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” he says, “ Quinn and I are going to run upstairs to get ready, and then I can take over so you can go put on whatever pirate bullshit you want.” He says, staring at me with a matter-of-fact expression and his arms folded across his chest.  

“Sounds good to me, bub.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

 Sam and Willa left shortly after Josh and Quinn, leaving me with the usual regulars to tend to. They weren’t a rowdy bunch, so I got a good amount of cleaning done before the rush of people. 

Maybe. The fact she didn’t say ‘no’ was basically haunting me. It’s not a big deal if she does show up because she is just a ‘friend’. That’s even a strong way of wording it. 

At this point, the sun has been set for a while, which is attracting costumed customers. Some are more clever than others, but regardless, I’m just glad that people seem to like the idea. 

I’m talking to Linda, who’s dressed as an 80s Aerobic Instructor, when I hear the sounds of my dear brother entering the building. He always has a way of making his presence known, whether he means to or not. We both glance over to the door, where he lets Quinn through first, quickly following behind. 

Hand in hand, they joined us at the bar. I just looked at the two of them for a minute, my head tilted slightly. 

“Peter Pan and Tinkerbell?” I finally manage to ask.

“Yes!” Josh says, fluttering the tiny wings he has on. 

I let out a small sigh; I should have known, giggling to myself. 

“I think you two look adorable,” Linda compliments them, eliciting a curtsy from Josh while Quinn does a stage bow. 

“Alright, Tink, come tend bar so I can go change into something more festive.”

After I finally got upstairs, I started digging through my closet, looking for everything. I know it’s in here. I finally found my cream button-up; it was a bit looser on me than most of my shirts, so when I tucked it in; it definitely fit a pirate theme. 

I pull on my black slim-fit jeans, tucking the bottom of my shirt into them. I slide on my brown dress vest over the shirt, leaving it fairly open so that my chest is exposed. I grab the necklaces on my nightstand and walk into the bathroom to make sure they are sitting properly. I don’t need Josh telling me I layered my necklaces wrong again. 

I know Josh has some sort of scarf or belt that would make more sense for a pirate outfit, so I decide to bravely go into his room. Good lord, Josh.  Walking into his room, I always forget that he likes to have things. I mean that nicely; he just loves art, decor, and tchotchkes, so his bedroom would be overstimulating to most. Considering how long I’ve known him, I’m generally accustomed to his ways, but when he keeps his door shut more often than not, it starts to slip my mind. 

Rummaging through his closet, filled with colorful pieces, I find the clothes hanger loaded with scarves. I pulled out an olive green one; earth tones will work, right?  I tie it around my waist, moving in front of his full-length mirror; I look much more piratey than before. 

I look at the time, not realizing how long it’s taken me, I hustle back into my room. I grab the rings from the drawer in my nightstand, quickly sliding them on and spraying myself with another round of cologne to hopefully hold me over the rest of the night. I pull out a single cigarette from the drawer, shutting it a little harder than I mean to. 

Maybe? Her text is still sitting in my mind. What if she does show up? I grab my phone from the counter, slide it back into my pocket, and head out the door. 

“Excuse me, sorry,” I mumble as people pass me on the stairs. I’m moving a little quicker than I usually am because I don’t want to leave Josh bartending alone for too long. Maybe Melody is helping him out? I should have pulled everything out earlier, so this didn’t happen. 

I pull open the door, letting the couple outside into the stairwell. I pull my lighter out, placing the cigarette between my lips and covering the filter end with my hand to block the wind. I take the long way around the building so I can enjoy this while I have a second. Josh is fine, the bar is fine, if she shows up, that’s also fine. I think to myself as I’m rounding the corner. Taking one final drag before putting it out, I hold in the cloud of smoke for a moment before releasing it. I close my eyes for a second, breathing in the cool fall air. Glancing over to the most delightful sight, I’m unable to come up with words fast enough before I hear– 

“Well, hello there, Captain.” 

Charlotte POV

You’re allowed to have fun, Charlotte. That’s the mantra I’ve been repeating in my head since Jacob told me about this party, though the alternative is that this is incredibly unprofessional. 

I’ve been parked and sitting in my car for 10 minutes, building up the will to get out. You bought a costume, and you got ready, and you smiled at the text for about 15 minutes straight. Just go have fun. My hand finally reached for the handle, opening the door. 

My boots make a little click on the pavement as I get out of the car; I smooth out my pants and readjust the little corset so it’s more comfortable. I look at my reflection in my car windows, leaning in to make sure my lipstick is still in place. Okay. Just go. 

Rounding the corner, I see the entrance to the bar, making me slow my pace a little until- 

Jacob? I watch as he walks towards the bar; he looks .. good– No, Charlotte, cut it out. I slowly walk towards him, still watching him as he lets out a quick stream of smoke; why is that kinda…  He sets the rest of the cigarette in the ashtray placed on top of the garbage can. He stops for a second, clearly trying to calm down. Is he okay? His shoulders drop as he lets out a long breath. Suddenly, we’re making eye contact. Shit.

“Well, hello there, Captain,” I say to him. Smooth Charlotte, real smooth. 

He giggles at the name, “Well, blow me down. I didn’t know if I would see you tonight, Red.” 

“I decided that I deserved a little fun after this past week and all.”

“I think you made a good decision,” he says calmly, “Also, your costume choice is just lovely.” I don’t know if I ate too much or if he is actually giving me butterflies right now. 

“Oh, thank you,” I say quietly; I’ve never been good at receiving compliments. We both stand there for a brief second before he grabs the door to the bar, gesturing for me to go through. 

“Ladies first.” 

“What a gentleman– oh, I mean, gentle-pirate.”

The bar is full of costumed people, Halloween songs playing loud over the speakers that you can barely hear over the chatter from everyone.  It’s nice to see how busy the bar is finally.  I had only really been here earlier in the day and honestly, it’s refreshing to know that the bar is doing well, considering how many people are here. 

I followed Jacob to the bar, sitting down, only to notice that his brother was dressed as Tinkerbell. It seemed like an odd choice until I looked down to the other end of the bar to see Peter Pan sitting there. Oh… OH. 

“Charlotte! You came!” Josh says excitedly, “Y’know, I told Ol’ Captain Sparrow that if he just asked you that, you-” 

 “Oooookay, Tink, that’s enough,” Jacob cuts him off, making me laugh. 

He slid a glass over to me on a napkin. I looked down to see that he made me a Boulevardier. He remembered? My heart feels weird. 

“Let me know if it’s terrible, I’ll remake it for you,”

I take a small sip; it’s incredible?

“No, it’s perfect, thank you,” I tell him. 

He smiles at me, even his eyes light up. I watch him walk down the length of the bar, checking in on other customers and replacing their drinks with fresh ones. He’s so soft-spoken that I’m shocked he feels so comfortable bartending. The way he looks at every single customer, giving them his full attention, even for the twenty seconds it takes for them to place their order. He’s so-

“So Charlotte,” Josh starts, pulling me out of my thoughts, which may be a good thing at this rate. 

“How are you doing, dear?” he asks while wiping a wine glass dry. 

“I’m okay,” I tell him, “I am sorry about the other day, I hope you weren’t trying to get out of here.” 

“I was actually coming back from lunch, and you weren’t a bother at all,” he tells me, relieving me that I didn’t mess up his entire day. 

He continues, “Also, never apologize to me for having feelings. I don’t know what happened, but I’m glad that you were able to let them out. Jake is good at handling situations like yours, so you picked the perfect time, honestly.”

“Oh,” I say before taking a bigger sip. 

“Are you here alone?” he asks. I nod quickly, “Let me introduce you to someone. Hold on!” 

I watch as he waves over the person in the Peter Pan costume. They make their way over to us, and with how Josh’s face looks, I’m assuming this is a special person to him.

“Charlotte, this is Quinn,” Josh said, gesturing between the two of us. 

“Hi, nice to meet you, Quinn,” I can’t help how professional it comes out. 

“You as well,” they start, “If you haven’t pieced it together, yes, I’m Josh’s partner.” They let out a small laugh, gesturing at the Peter Pan costume. Okay, thank God, I didn’t want to say that I assumed.  

Looking at the two of them, they really are precious. 

“I love your costumes,” I tell them. 

“Oh, thank you!” they both say simultaneously. 

“So Charlotte, what exactly is your job?” Quinn asks. 

“Well-” I’m cut off by the group of people approaching us loudly. 

I watch quietly from my seat while they all greet each other. 

“WILLIAM,” Quinn hollers.

 “QUILL” 

“QUILLIAM,” the two of them yell at the same time, falling into a fit of giggles. 

I can’t help but wonder what I’m currently witnessing. 

“Oh my god, you look so fucking good.”

“Stop it- no, YOU guys look so good.”

Quinn looks back over to me, grabs the two girls’ hands they have been chatting with, and hustles back to the bar.

“Guys, this is Charlotte!” Quinn starts introducing us. “This is Willa,” they gesture to the petite girl with a cute bob haircut that frames her face so nicely. She’s dressed in light pink. Loofah? Which is quickly clarified when Sam comes into view dressed as a bar of soap, whom I met briefly the first day I came in. 

“I still can’t believe I’m soap, Bird.”

“It was this or Twilight, be glad!”

“And this is Melody, obviously. You’ve met already, though?” gesturing to her, who’s also absolutely beautiful. She’s dressed as Arwen, which means that Danny is dressed as the Aragorn man.

“Hi,” I manage to get out, “Yes, we have, and you both look so great,” 

“Thank you so much!” Melody quickly responds. 

“Oh, thanks!” Willa quips back. 

“Drinks for everybody,” Jake’s voice came from behind me as he slid a bunch of glasses towards us. A chorus of ‘thank you’ surrounds me. Before I can turn to acknowledge him, he’s grabbing my glass. 

“Another one?” He asks, fairly quietly this time. 

“Please,” my nerves are getting the best of me, and the best way to fight them off is not to be sober. 

“Oh, sick! We’re all in couples costumes,” 

“Sam,” Willa hitting Sam’s arm, “Shut up?”

I could feel the heat rising into my face; I had been ignoring that Jacob and I wore the same kind of costume and wishfully thought that nobody would mention it. I guess that ship has sailed.

“We have Peter Pan and Twinkerbell, Lord of the Rings, and Calico Jack and Anne Bonny at the bar– I thought it was safe to assume!” Sam says, his loud laugh following it.  

“Oh guys,” Jake sounds defeated, “Don’t embarrass her. You just met her.” 

He looks back at me, handing me a new drink, “I’m sorry about that. I swear sometimes my brother hates me.” 

“It’s okay. I was kind of waiting for it to happen,” I laughed, “I mean, we are matching so..” 

He laughs at my observation for a moment. 

“Between you and me,” he leans a little closer, whispering, “I think we’re the best dressed here,” flashing me a small smile; oh, how I wish he wouldn’t do that. 

“Charlotte, come with us!” Quinn says, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the barstool. They pull me over to a table where the other girls are sitting. Oh god.  

“Josh told me you were here alone, and well.. that’s not fun,” they tell me. 

“I don’t actually live around here, so I don’t really know anybody,” I start, “Well, aside from you guys, now.”

A slew of ‘oooohhhh’s come out from all of them. 

“So, I’m under the impression you’re all partners with the boys?” I ask. 

“Yes!” “Yep,” “Mhmmm,” quickly followed. 

I take another few sips of my drink, feeling the anxiety starting to melt away. 

“I’m secretly a sucker for romance, so who wants to let me in on the situations here?” I tell them, rapidly pointing around at all of them and the boys. I’m going to be around for a little bit. I may as well get to know them. Plus.. it probably wouldn’t hurt for me to try and make some friends… right? 

“How much time do you have?” Quinn asks bluntly. The other two erupted with laughter. 

I look down at my drink, swirling it around, and then drink the last few sips quickly before looking at them and delivering a monotone, “I got time.” 

“Well, in that case,” Willa starts, “Let me tell you about my sweet, dumb, but hot boyfriend Samuel.” She says while cracking her knuckles. 

“So– I met him at the farmers market, where he proceeded to be an absolute dick to me. And THEN, he was here when I came here on an unsuccessful date, we had to WORK TOGETHER, went on a trip where we got with ONE BED-” Willa pauses for dramatic effect before taking a breath to practically yell, “LIKE THE BOOK TROPE, CHARLOTTE.”

“You sure you wanna hear this?” Quinn interjects. 

“Oh, I’m invested now,” I quickly spit out. I catch a small glimpse of Jacob as he’s grabbing some empty bottles from a table across the room. He smiles and nods at whatever they say; oh, there’s that feeling again. 

Willa continues her tale, but I barely hear her. My eyes fixated on him, watching how he makes eye contact with anyone who talks to him. Making sure that he hears them, nodding along and giggling often. Every so often, letting someone have a genuine smile–

Willa’s voice hit me again, “–and now I guess I like him back.” 

“Oh, my god?” I respond, “That is uh.. A lot?” Oh, I’m the worst person ever. 

“It is a lot, but I guess he was worth it or whatever,” Willa rolls her eyes at the statement. 

Quinn smacked her arm, “You loved that silly string bean for so long. Don’t even act like you didn’t.” 

Everybody was giggling at the call out. I saw Melody look around the table at all the empty glasses before standing up and grabbing them all.

“Let me get us another round, but Quinn, feel free to start whenever,” She grabs their arm, “I obviously know how this goes already.” 

We all watch her for a minute as she walks up to the bar, getting the boys’ attention. 

“Melody is so pretty?” I say out loud, “Oh god, is that weird?”

“No!” 

“Not at all.” 

“We all think she’s hot, don’t worry.”

Before I can look back over to them, Jacob is in my line of sight again. This time, he’s behind the bar, talking to one of the older ladies he seems so fond of. The way they make him laugh is sweet. He’s stood there for a second before he leans over the bar to grab something from them, but the way he leans makes his shirt fall open more; I can see his stomach flex for a split second. Holy shit. Where is Melody with those drinks, dear god- 

“Alright, Quill, let’s go.” 

Melody sat back down at the table, dispersing the drinks to everyone. 

“Welllllll,” Quinn says, “I met him at Hobby Lobby- don’t ask me why HE worked THERE.”

I have got to stop getting distracted by this man. He walks past our table, gently squeezing Quinn’s shoulders as he passes them. They just glance over at him as they’re talking. It’s precious how much he seems to like them. Maybe he’s just a loving person? Oh, god I don’t like that. 

 “But, now we’re just in love, and he’s perfect, so!” 

“...in the cooler?” Willa mumbled, covering her mouth, “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

What did they do in the cooler? Shit, I need to be paying closer attention. 

“Yeah… I probably could have left that part out, huh?” Their eyes widened, looking over at me, with the realization of who they were telling that to. “We cleaned up after! Promise!”

“Wait a second- so, you and Josh.. here?” Willa says, pointing at Quinn, before turning to Melody, “And you and Danny …ALSO here..?” 

Never mind, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me. 

The two nod in sync, holding back their laughs. 

“Well, that’s not fair!”

“This is truly taking years off my life,” I tell them while rubbing my temples, making them all giggle at my pain. 

“I’m not about to make it any better,” Melody says with a laugh, followed by the other two losing even more.

I hold up one finger while inhaling the rest of my drink, “Okay, I think I’m ready.” 

“So Daniel and I actually started dating in High School,” Melody says, pulling a quiet ‘awww’ from all of us, “We were together for a while before I decided to go to college out of state,” she tells us. 

I see him in the background, just scanning the room while Josh is making drinks, well, until he sees me looking back at him. Shit, shit, shit, shifting my eyes back to Melody.

“Anyway– I ran into Josh, who got me the job here, and I’m so thankful for it. The boys are so great, and I’m obviously not going to complain about getting to see Daniel again.” 

“I bet you’re not complaining,” Willa says suggestively with an exaggerated wink. 

“HE sure complained at first, though,” Quinn pipes up with a laugh.

“Oh hush,” Melody tries to brush it off, “I do love him for more than our sex life.”

Willa is quick to reply, “Whatever you say, girly.” 

“So.. what’s the part that will ruin my day?” I nervously ask. 

“Conveniently, the day you came in actually, Jake had sort of… walked in on us.” 

“Walked in on WHAT?” 

“The thing is.. The roads were terrible, so I asked Jake if he minded grabbing Iris-” Quinn quickly cuts off Melody. “YEAH, WE HAD A SLEEPOVER WITH THE CHILD,” Quinn can’t tell us fast enough. 

“Hey,” Willa, chuckling, gently grabs Quinn’s arm, “Charlotte was the only one not involved. You don’t need to yell.” 

“Sorry, I just love Iris a lot, okay?” 

“And she loves you back,” Melody reassures them, “Anyway, yes, so everybody else had a fun sleepover with my daughter, and I closed the bar with Daniel while having a weird argument–” 

Jake comes up between Quinn and Melody, placing one hand on Melody’s back, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I come bearing not watered-down drinks.”  

He starts placing the drinks on the table, having to slide mine and Willa’s across the table. 

I watch as he makes a little small talk with everyone and how much they all seem to like him. He seems too nice to be real. Everyone laughing with him, I look up at him before he slides my drink over to me. His hands. Oh my. He has rings on… oh my GOD. Trying not to be obvious, I quickly flit my eyes back up to meet his. 

“Thank you,” I mouth to him while the other three are talking. He mouths back, ‘Of course’, flashing me a smile. The boy is beautiful when he smiles. 

He turns to go back to the bar, and I just focus on him walking there; unknowingly, I am being watched.

“Charlotte!” 

“Yes?” I quip back; I can feel the heat in my face, but is it embarrassment or the alcohol? The world will never know.

“Are you… into Jake..?” Willa asks quietly. 

The other two leaned in on our little secret session, which I was not prepared for. 

“Nooo, no, no, no,” I can’t spit it out quickly enough.

Quinn lets out a laugh before choking out, “You were practically drooling over him,” 

“Ha ha.. Nooo.. I wasn’t,” I try to defend myself, scratching the back of my head, “Was it really that obvious?” 

A chorus of yelps elicited when I loosely admit to thinking he’s attractive. 

“Oh stoooop,” I cover my face. 

“Don’t be embarrassed– those Kiszka boys are incredibly charming,” Quinn states, “It’s hard not to fall for it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about ‘charming’ per se, but they do have some good genes in that family.” Willa taking a light jab at Sam. 

“Really though,” Melody chimes in, “Jake is honestly very charming,” 

“Oh, he is absolutely,” 

“He’s too nice,”

Quinn and Willa tend to talk at the same time, and being a few drinks in does not help my deciphering of who said what, but at least when they’re on the same page, it helps. 

“He has been very easy to work with, so I would believe that,” I try to regain my composure,  even though the fact everybody thinks he’s sweet is not helpful to where my brain has been going all night. 

“I’m sure his brain just shuts down when you’re around,” Willa says into her glass before taking a sip. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Have you seen yourself?” Quinn questions, “You’re so hot?”

‘Mhm’ 

‘Yeah, you are.’ 

I know that my face is absolutely pink at this rate; I just shake my head ‘no.’

“I’m sure he sees plenty of pretty girls being a bartender,” I roll my eyes at the idea that he wouldn’t hit on other girls while he’s working. 

“Pretty sure the only one he entertains is Eleanor,” Melody giggles. 

“I’m almost positive he told Josh that he’d just marry her if he stayed single for too much longer,” Quinn says, looking over at Josh, who just blows a kiss to them. Wow, they’re so cute together. 

I watch as Melody taps on her phone, seeing the time, “Well, guys, I need to go relieve Josh for a bit.”

Quinn quickly stood up with their drink and nodded to the bar. Willa and I followed suit, migrating up to the bar. Claiming a bar stool and watching as Josh comes to find Quinn, quickly kissing their nose and then their forehead before Quinn snuggles themself into him for a brief moment. 

“Pretty cute, aren’t they?” Jacob whispers, scaring the living daylights out of me. 

“They really are,” I say, “And you need a bell or something because Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he laughs, placing his hand on my back for a second, “I just need to get out of there for a minute,” he tells me.

 “So I’m going to run around to clean and just saw you fixated on them.” 

“Well, since you’re here, Jake,” Willa says loudly, leaning over to me and whispering, “Wanna see the boys squirm?” I simply nod with a grin plastered across my face. 

“Don’t you guys think Melody is insanely hot?” She questions everybody.

Daniel violently shakes his head, ‘Yes,’ while Melody laughs behind the bar. 

“I.. uhh,” Jake mumbles, holding the back of his neck, “I have tables to clean,” and quickly walks off to grab glasses. 

Sam’s eyes are wide, and his face is filled with panic. “Birdie, I can’t answer,” he begins to say before his brother abruptly cuts him off. 

“SMASH FOR SURE,” Josh confidently shouts, being met with a high five from Quinn. 

“You’re right, that was worth it,” I whisper, leaning into Willa. 

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I sat with everybody while they talked, well, yelled. This is a much louder group of friends than I’m used to. Granted, I have like..no group of friends. I listen to a lot of very odd conversations filled with Sam instigating Willa so that she would get a little pissed at him. There are plenty of lengthy stories from Josh, which probably wouldn’t take as long if he didn’t tell us every side story that goes along with it, but he’s so animated I guess I can’t really complain. 

“Here, Charlotte,” Melody says, “Jake told me how to make your drink, so .. I hope it tastes right,” 

I take a sip, oh lord, that is STRONG, “It’s great!” 

Why did I do that? She needs to learn… Not that I could even correct her right now. 

I sip on my drink for a while, feeling it hitting harder than I’m used to. Every so often, Jake comes out from behind the bar to make small talk with some of the customers or come bug his brothers for a few minutes. I always hope it’s the latter. 

“How are we doin’, Red?” 

I blink rather slowly, “I’m thriving,” slowly cracking a smile, knowing it sounded terrible coming out of my mouth. 

“Well, I’m so glad,” he tells me. The way he makes eye contact but also watches my mouth when I talk makes me want to scream. 

“You know,” I tell him, what are you doing? , “I dare ye to resist me booty,” the alcohol starts speaking. 

“Are…are you trying to flirt with me?” He laughs out. 

“Maybe, is it working?” I ask, biting the inside of my lip. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

“Oh– well,” he giggles quietly; leaning in, he rests one hand on the back of my barstool to support himself, but his face creeps in closer to my ear before he whispers, “You don’t even have to try with me, honey.” Fuck me. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I spend the rest of the night chatting with Quinn and Willa about the most random things. But I think that is what friends are supposed to do? 

Slowly, people start trickling out as it nears 1 a.m. I say my goodbyes to Sam and Willa, which is shortly followed by Josh and Quinn. Jake was nice enough to let Josh go to bed since he was here decorating so early. 

“Ready to go, ducky?” Daniel asks Melody;  party of one officially. 

“Oh, I am beyond ready,” she stretches her arms out before turning to me, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” 

Shit. I already forgot that I told her about the training earlier today. 

“Yes, you will! Can’t wait,” I do my best not to show that I definitely forgot and that I’m definitely NOT going to feel like shit in the morning now. 

“I’ll see you then,” she says with a little wink. 

I turn to the bar, leaning into my hand with a very minuscule smile painted on my face as I watch him. Just waiting for him to look over at me, I can’t help but stare. 

“I can feel you watching me,” he grins from the other end of the bar. 

“I’m debating on how I’m going to get home, is all,” I say with a sigh. 

“Did you drive here?” He asks. 

“Yep,”

“Okay, so, first of all, you’re not going to do that,” he tells me. 

“And why not?” I protest. He sauntered over to me, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says to me, glancing down at my lips until I finally pull the bottom one in with my teeth, “Yeah- you’re not driving.”

My jaw drops; he really got me there. 

“I can just call an Uber,” I tell him.

“Charlotte, I don’t love that idea. It’s almost 2 am, and I literally live just upstairs,” Jake continues to tell me I need to stay here, and I don’t know why I’m fighting it so hard. 

“I don’t want to impose,”

“I’m offering?” 

“Touche Captain,” I giggle a bit at the nickname. I bet he likes it. 

“Just hang out for a couple minutes so I can close the bar down,” he tells me. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Don’t you want to clean?” 

“It’s so late. Josh can help me in the morning,” Jake speaks low as we walk into the stairwell. 

“Oh no,” slips out, “oh, I didn’t mean to actually say that,” 

Jake lets out a quiet laugh, “I got you, don’t worry,” 

Before I can react, he has his arm underneath mine, gesturing for my hand. I lace my fingers into his; the butterflies are back. How fun. He holds my hand tightly, letting me put a lot of my weight into him as we carefully go up the first flight of stairs. 

“I think I can do it,” I tell him; I absolutely cannot? 

“You sure about that, sport?” 

I squint at him and immediately stumble up the first couple of stairs of the second flight, letting out a small ‘oop.’

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” He makes fun of me gently while supporting me again. 

This may be the longest stair climb of my life.

We finally make it to his apartment.

Jake whispers, “You can take my bed, and I’ll just sleep on the couch.”  He’s so cute when he’s concerned.

“Noooo, I can sleep on the couch. I’ve already inconvenienced you.” 

He blinks at me slowly, unamused. 

I can’t stop myself from walking towards his couch, and it’s a humbling moment for me as my legs wobble in the process. 

“No, you don’t,” Jake says from behind me. 

“Jake, really, I don’t mind,” I look back at him, disorienting myself from turning too quickly. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he grabs my arms to stop me from falling over. I just stare at him like a deer in headlights. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want it to come to this, but,” he says before he wraps his arms around my thighs, lifting me over his shoulder. 

Childlike laughter erupts from me as he carries me through his apartment into his bedroom. I can feel his chest vibrating subtly from giggling with me. 

“Here ya go,” he says, moving one hand to my back so he can set me down.  So carefully, making sure not to drop me, he leans down slowly. The feeling of falling became so real suddenly, that I instinctively held onto his shoulder, which pulled him back with me. He stumbles forward a bit, catching himself before landing on top of me. 

I prop myself up on my elbows as I laugh. He’s hovered over me, with a hand on either side; our faces are so close. 

We both freeze as we realize how close we are. I wonder how soft his lips really are… My eyes defy me, shifting down to look at his mouth, just for a second, as he watches me. 

Clearing his throat as he stands up. 

“Uh- here, let me get you a sweatshirt or something,” he sounds timid. Quickly shuffling through his closet, he pulled out a navy sweatshirt and handed it to me. 

“It’ll probably be a little bit loose on you, but better than sleeping like a pirate?” 

I chuckle, smiling up at him. Simply grateful for something comfortable to wear. 

“I’ll go so you can do that,” still clearly very nervous. 

Pulling my shirt over my head, I quickly pull the sweatshirt over me. I lock the bottom of it under my chin so I can see what I'm doing. Oh no. No, no, no, no. My zipper is stuck, and staring at it makes me cross-eyed. I drop my head back, letting out an angry sigh. Please just unzip. My hands get increasingly sweaty, making the stupid plastic zipper hard to grip. 

I hear a few soft knocks on the door before it cracks open. 

“Can I come in?” He asks. 

“Actually… I um… I need help.” 

Coming in quickly and shutting the door behind him, I just stare at him pathetically. 

“My zipper is stuck,” I tell him, embarrassed. 

He chokes back a laugh, setting a glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed. 

He kneels in front of me; oh, this is terrible. I lift the sweatshirt, revealing the catastrophic mess from me, yanking the zipper every which way. 

“Where the hell did you even get these, Red?” He asks, looking up at me with a soft giggle. 

I wish he would just focus. I don't need to look at him like this. Making eye contact causes my brain to short-circuit, and I stare back at him silently. Watching him try to figure out how the zipper got caught, he’s so carefully moving the fabric around. 

“How much do you care about these?” He asks, gently tapping my hip. 

“At this point,” I raise my eyebrows in defeat. 

“Are you sure?”

I just nod ‘yes’ in response. 

He grabs either side of the zipper and tears it apart quickly. The sound of the fabric ripping was relieving, well, for a second. Both of us smile at the fact that I’m free until he looks back down to see the lace of my thong peeking out. 

I see his eyes go wide, and the pink creep into his cheeks as he pinches the fabric together. 

“Oh,” slips out of me. I let the sweatshirt drop, falling to the tops of my thighs as the now ripped pirate pants hit the floor. 

“So, uh, well,” Jake says, holding the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact, “I will let you get some sleep.” 

I don’t know what possesses me to say, “Wait-“ 

Closing the gap between us, I lean up onto my toes slightly, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” I tell him before crawling into his bed.

“Of course, m’lady,” he says with a bow. His little English accent laces the words, which makes me laugh. 

“Sleep well,” he whispers, shutting off the light as he leaves. 

I fall back into his bed, wrapping myself up in the blankets. They smell like him, comforting, warm. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | FDOG Playlist

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Rowaelin Month Day Eight: Single Parent Au @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist Where We've Been Masterlist

Warnings: nothing too major? ~6.5k words

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Six

Aelin awoke with a start the next morning.

Sprawled out on the small couch in the waiting room, she’d forgotten where she was for the briefest of moments.  Her dreams had been filled with running through a small apartment trying to get free from her pursuer.  Constantly looking over her shoulder.  The impending knowledge that she wasn’t safe.  Needless to say, she didn’t sleep well.

As she remembered where she was, that she was safe, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair.  The small window of the waiting room showed off an early morning sky that wasn’t yet dusted with the pinks and golds of a rising sun.

Outside the door were the usual sounds of a hospital: nurses talking quietly, med carts rolling, shoes squeaking on linoleum.  It hadn’t bothered her throughout the night, for which she was grateful.  The hospital was slowly waking up with the usual ins and outs of operation which meant Aelin would soon need to leave.  

She only had a dinner shift at the diner, and she knew Nox wouldn’t be mad if she was late, but considering she was on an hourly wage and needed the tips, getting there on time would be better for her.

Sitting up, she stretched out her sore back.  She’d have to make sure not to wince or waddle when talking to Malakai or she’d never hear the end of her stubborn refusal to go home to a real bed.

She stuffed her hair into a bun, certain it still looked like a rat's nest, and gathered her jacket and phone.  The battery was well on its way to dying so the sooner she got to her car where the spare charger was, the better.

As she headed up to Emrys’ room for a quick check in, she ran into Yrene who was finishing up at a nurses station.

The brunette smiled. “Hey, did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be close in case anything happened,” Aelin said.

Yrene nodded in understanding.  She reached out and gave Aelin’s arm a squeeze.  “He’s a strong man.  And stubborn as they come.”

“I know.”  She did her best to smile, unwilling to break down in front of Yrene who always appeared so strong and composed all the time. “I just want to swing by the room before I head back to Terrasen.”

“I’ll walk with you.”  

Yrene initialed a patient file before putting it back where it belonged at the nurses station.  Her hair was pulled back in a braid, but there were a few flyaways escaping.  The curls framed her face, emphasizing her dark hazel eyes.

“So, how have you been?” Aelin asked.  She didn’t know Yrene very well, only from the occasional check-ups and some medication prescriptions.  But, Yrene had a quality about her that spoke to kindness and surety that Aelin appreciated.

“Oh, same old,” Yrene laughed.  “A few nurses quit last week so my workload increased a bit.”

She rolled her eyes even as Aelin stared in slight horror.  

“It’s fine,” Yrene insisted, “I get double overtime and everything.  Besides, I’ve gotten really good at sewing up barbed wire injuries.”

“You still deserve a break,” Aelin insisted.

They stepped on the elevator to head up to the recovery wing.  Unlike yesterday, Aelin was able to remain mostly calm.  She kept herself as close to the door as possible still, ready to jump out at the first chance.

“Who needs rest?” Yrene chuckled.

“When was the last time you had a girls night?” Aelin asked. “You should come into Terrasen.  You, Nehemia, me and Marion, we can have a night out of fun.”

That gave Yrene pause.  She fiddled with the pager at her waist as she thought.  Aelin had a feeling she knew exactly what was going through the other woman’s head: new friends, too busy, do I really have time, easier to ignore it.  She knew those thoughts.  As much as Aelin loved new people and having fun, she’d grown warier as of late.  She knew how easily her cover could be blown, sending up a smoke signal to Arobynn telling him where she was.  

It had come close to happening after the debacle with Chaol over a year ago and why she didn’t entirely trust the man anymore.

“If you don’t want to,” Aelin began.

“No,” Yrene said quickly.  “No.  It sounds fun.  I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know.”

The elevator opened up a floor and had Aelin bouncing out as soon as she could.  Despite the care she took to hide her emotions and her unease, she’d been failing more often in recent weeks.  She used to be good at it--protecting herself from other’s eyes.  For her own sake and the sake of her daughter she needed to get back to that point.

“Great!” Aelin flashed her brightest smile.  She had to be careful around Yrene’s keen eyes.  The woman had seen some of Aelin’s past medical records--the healed broken bones and scars--and would know what they meant.  While Yrene was a professional, and bound by HIPPA, she was still a good person who would look out for someone in a bad situation.  As long as Aelin acted like everything was alright, Yrene wouldn’t comment on it.  

She could hope.

“Marion doesn’t seem like the type to go out,” Yrene commented with light amusement. 

They headed down the hall as dawn slowly began creeping in through the skylights and windows.  It was set to be another beautiful summer day, even with all the turmoil surrounding them.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Aelin agreed, “she’s always been a little closed off. She bit my head off the first time I invited her out to lunch.  It just takes a little bit for her to feel comfortable around people.”

We all have things we need to keep hidden, she almost said.  She bit her lip and kept those words to herself.

The recovery wing was quiet as they rounded a corner to Emrys’ room.  Malakai was already up and in the hall as the doctor and a nurse did a morning evaluation.

“You look terrible,” Malakai said, giving Aelin an appraising look.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh thanks.”

“I told you that you should have gone home,” he said.

“I’m fine.” The crick in her neck said otherwise, but Aelin ignored that. “How is he?”

“He woke up,” Malakai said, “still groggy and confused, but he did wake up.”

“Good,” Aelin said, “that’s good.”

She glanced to the room where the curtains were drawn.  She wished she could have gotten to see Emrys at least once, but she did need to get going, especially if she wanted to relieve Nehemia from Meiri duty.

“Will you give him my love?” she asked.  “I need to head back to Terrasen.”

“Of course,” Malakai agreed, “go.  I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ll check in with Luca and make sure he’s going to his summer classes.”

“Chaol knows what he’s doing,” Malakai reminded her.  

Aelin kindly ignored him.  She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to Yrene.

“Text me about your schedule.”

Yrene told her she would and satisfied, Aelin headed back to Terrasen.  

…

Rowan stood at the top of the ladder and stared at the window pane he was trying to install.  This really was a two man job but considering he knew no one in this damned town, he was determined to accomplish this on his own.

Last night he’d made the impossibly stupid decision of staying in Terrasen to help finish the renovations on the Inn.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it--other than the fact that he actually liked Malakai and Emrys. 

Maybe it also dipped into the idea that he wanted to make a difference.  For so long he’d been entrenched in pain and war, blood and misery.  For so long he’d done what others had told him to do to the point he never really knew what he wanted.  Until the end.

Until that last raid when he’d made a deadly choice.

But this wouldn’t lead to death.

Unless he slipped off the ladder.

Rowan looked down.  He’d probably survive.  

Good thing heights had never bothered him.

He turned back to the window pane.  With careful leveraging he could manage this on his own.  But for the rest of the windows?  Maybe he would have to enlist some help.  Which would require talking to people.

Hell.

After another twenty minutes, Rowan did manage to finagle the window pane into place and secure it with the necessary equipment.  

Sweat poured down his skin as she finally made it down the ladder.  It was barely one in the afternoon and he was ready to call it a day.  Even after spending years hauling equipment through the Kovac desert and sitting in a sniper's nest--there was something particularly grueling about this today.

He hadn’t been sleeping of course.  Hadn’t been training every day, all day.  His body was trying to adapt to its new circumstances and seemed to be failing miserably.

When his feet hit solid ground, he stripped off his shirt to wipe off the excess sweat that was dripping from his forehead.  As he’d come to learn about this part of the state; it was endlessly sunny.  The blue sky allowed for no relief.  Not that Rowan wanted it.

He stood in the parking lot of the Inn, bare chested and let the sun pour down.  He could taste the remnants of dust on his tongue and hear the quiet hum of cars drive past on the main road.  If he focused, if he closed his eyes and waited--he was back in that desert waiting for orders.

The low growl of a closely approaching car drew his attention and he opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun as a black SUV pulled into the parking lot.  The engine cut off and a man hopped out of the driver's seat.  He had to be Rowan’s same age if he had to guess.  He was handsome with black hair and a charming smile.  There was something familiar about the easy way he held himself.

“You must be Rowan.” The man proffered a hand to shake.  He wore a suit that had to cost at least as much as the SUV he drove. “I’m Dorian, the city mayor.”

Rowan shook his hand but was otherwise unsure what to say to the man.  He’d met many political types in his time in the army and hadn’t liked any of them.  All he could really do was nod and mop his face with his shirt again.

“Malakai mentioned you might be staying in the front office for the day,” Dorian said, glancing at the ladder and mess of window equipment. “He didn’t mention you’d be working.”

There was such an easy way about him, that Rowan could see how someone could be disarmed by the man.  Since Rowan could now count on one hand the number of people he trusted in his life, it was easy to keep his defenses up.

“I figured I’d try and repay them by helping out,” Rowan said.

He remembered meeting a business man out in Kovac who would essentially loot abandoned villages and look for any opportunity to get his hands on money.  It was one of the things that led to Talbot’s death.  And that final raid.

All because of one man.

Rowan knew why Dorian was familiar.

“Havilliard,” he said slowly. Dorian’s smile froze in play. “Dorian Havilliard.  I’ve met your father.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Dorian said, “the man’s a bastard.”

Rowan eased back a step.  Henry Havilliard had come to Kovac because his business was investing funds in the war and had wanted to see sites where his money was being used.  Which had led to the attack miles outside of base camp.

In reality, Rowan knew he couldn’t blame the sins of the father on the son.  He knew that.  But it would be so easy to.

“You served in Kovac, didn’t you?” Dorian asked. “That’s mostly where my father invested.”

“Three tours,” Rowan said.  Three tours over four and a half years.  And then a year of training stateside before that.  It shouldn’t have happened that way, he should have had more time between tours.  Should have given himself a break, but after Talbot…everything had spiraled out of control.

“My father never understood what it was like to serve,” Dorian said, “never really understood what his work was doing.”  He held Rowan’s gaze for a few moments before looking away. “Even with all the time he spent over there.”

No one understood what it was like.  Not until they were holding a dying kid in their arms and had blood staining their lips.

“Did you need to get into the office?” Rowan asked.  He didn’t need to talk about his military time nor did he need to try and bond with a Havilliard.

“No,” Dorian said, he cast another look over the motel.  “I just thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.” He paused. “Are you planning on finishing the renovations yourself?”

Rowan shrugged. “May as well.  Sartaq is still finishing my truck.”

Though, if the last text was to be believed, the truck would be finished by the end of the day.

Dorian nodded absently. “Malakai was worried about being ready for the county fair.  You know--”

He was cut off by a loud squeal.

“Uncle Dorian!”

The small voice carried across the parking lot and was followed by the emphatic pounding of feet.  When Rowan looked around until he saw running along the sidewalk toward them was Meiri.  Her blonde hair bounced wildly about her face and an infectious smile beamed at him.  As she got closer he noticed she wore a pink tutu skirt paired with a blue Spider-Man shirt.

Behind her trailed Aelin at a quick pace with Meiri’s backpack slung on one arm, coffee in hand.

“Hey kiddo!” Dorian knelt down as Meiri nearly bowled him over.

“You missed pizza night with Mia!” Meiri told him.  She smacked her hands on Dorian’s cheeks and looked him dead in the eye. “You never miss pizza night.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, he genuinely seemed apologetic.  Though Rowan wondered if that was from missing the pizza of missing time with Nehemia. “Next time I’ll be there, I promise.”

Meiri held out one hand, pinky in the air. “Pinky promise!”

Aelin watched the exchange in bemusement that had Rowan wondering how often Meiri sealed deals with pinky promises.

“Pinky promise,” Dorian agreed.  He hooked his pinky with hers.  

Satisfied, Meiri turned to Rowan.  Much like the first few times they’d met, she shied away from him, just a little.  Though, she still eyed him with interest.

“Hi,” she said, “did you get pancakes today?”

“Nope,” Rowan said, “no pancakes.”

“That sucks,” Meiri said.

“Meiri!” Aelin scolded, dropped a hand on her daughter's head. “That’s not a word I want you using.”

“But Luca says it,” Meiri said.  She shook her mother off and patted down her hair aggressively.

“Yeah and he’ll be in trouble too,” Aelin assured her daughter. “It’s not a nice way to talk.”

Meiri immediately became uninterested with the mild chastisement and ran over to the tool box sitting out beside the ladder.  She poked and prodded before she found a measuring tape and got to work measuring out every little thing she could.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Aelin said, drawing Rowan’s attention away from Meiri who crouched beside Dorian’s SUV, tape measure extended over the tires. “Sartaq left me a message saying your truck was done.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, the sweat helping it stick back out of his face.  He nodded to the pile of window and construction equipment off to the side.

“Decided to help out a bit until Emrys was back on his feet,” he explained.  How long had it been since he last checked his phone?  If he’d known Sartaq had finished he would have gone to pick the truck up.

Aelin’s expression betrayed nothing even as her head cocked to one side.  She didn’t exactly trust him, that much was for sure.  But she didn’t dislike him either.  At least…as far as he could tell.  Though, Rowan was certain that she’d never admit to such a thing.

“You should stick around for the county fair,” Dorian said.  He had an earnest grin on his face that had Aelin scoffing, but Rowan didn’t think the malice was directed at him. “It’s a good time.”

“You’d do anything to keep numbers up,” Aelin said.  She rested her hands on her hips and gave Rowan a look. “The reelection is coming up.”

“I’m just saying, food, music, and fireworks,” shrugging, Dorian looked a little chagrined. “And, there's a sharpshooting competition.  Been around since the fair started.  I’m sure Chaol would like the competition, no one’s beat him in three years.”

The offer was genuine, easily extended.  Rowan, however, had no inclination to pick up a gun again.  Not for a long time.  And not unless he had no other choice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rowan said.  He ran a hand over his jaw contemplating if he could get out of this conversation by just walking away.  He hadn’t touched a weapon of any sort in months, not since being discharged and the thought of handling something else…

Meiri ran over to Dorian, the measuring tape flailing behind her.

“Uncle Dorian! Your car tires are this big!”  Meiri held up the metal tape that made a distinct whipping sound.

“Thanks kiddo,” Dorian smiled down at Meiri. 

“Momma’s gotta go to work, can I stay with you today?” Meiri asked.  She released the tape measure so it snapped together sharply.  

“Sorry, princess, I’ve got a lot of meetings today.” Dorian cast an apologetic look to Aelin who grimaced.

“I should have texted you beforehand,” she sighed. “I guess I can ask Mrs. Olmstead…”

“No Momma!” Meiri cried. “She never has any cookies and she doesn’t like to dig holes.  Plus she smells funny.”

Dorian had to turn away to keep his laugh hidden and Aelin’s lips were pursed so tightly, Rowan worried she’d bite into them.

“The cookies are the biggest crime,” Dorian said.  He patted Meiri on the head. “I need to head down to my meeting.  Have all the fun with this.”

He nodded to Rowan and gave Aelin a peck on the cheek before returning to his SUV.  The car turned out onto the main road, disappearing around a corner with a honk in farewell.

It was only then that Aelin cleared her throat before plucking the tape measure from Meiri’s hands. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but she is a very nice lady.  We can dig holes tomorrow.”

“Please, Momma?”  Meiri clung to her mother’s leg and tugged insistently.

It was a moment that was amusing and endearing.  Meiri in her tutu and large blue eyes and Aelin’s will crumbling bit by bit.  Rowan could remember a similar situation years ago.

A daughter.  A mother.

Each desperately clinging to the other.

“I can watch her,” Rowan said, the words leaving his lips before he knew what the hell he was thinking.

Aelin blinked, clearly shocked by his offer.  Well, there was no turning back now.

“Do you like to dig holes?” Meiri asked.  Her blue eyes widened expectantly as if it were the most important question in the world.

“Sure,” Rowan said, “I spent my summers burying my school books so my mom wouldn’t find them.”

Meiri pondered for a minute before she nodded once. “Okay.  We can have pancakes too!”

She took the measuring tape back from her mom before running to his tool box and taking the level out.  She held the tool in her hands with obvious care before heading over the window ledge of the front office.

It was easy to see Aelin’s uncertainty on the matter with the way she gripped Meiri’s bag in one hand.

“We can just hang out at the diner if you want,” Rowan offered. “You can keep an eye on her, I’ll color with her or something.”

For as long as he could remember, Rowan had never been a kid person.  He’d never known what to do around them or with them or…anything really.  The last kids he’d been around were his cousins but that had been ages ago, back before the war.  And frankly, Rowan wasn’t sure if he should volunteer for this.  After spending years around Lorcan and Fenrys combined there was no telling what Rowan would let slip.

Plenty and cursing that was certain.

“I,” Aelin began.  She sighed and rested a hand on her hip.  The tank top she wore left her golden arms on display.  She even had a few freckles spotting along her shoulders.  Summer looked good on her. “Alright.  Marion has reading hours sometimes at the library, if you stopped by I’m sure she’d help you out.” 

“Alright,” Rowan said.  That would work out well.  He remembered how much Sellene liked to read and Endymion could spin tales like no other.  “We’ll stop by.”

Aelin slowly pulled a key ring from her pocket and unwound a key.  She held it out between two fingers.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said, “don’t make me regret it.  I’m off at eight, but Nox might let me leave early.  You can go back to my place and watch Barbie movies if she gets too rowdy.”

Rowan accepted the key, tucking it into his fingers.  The metal was cool on his skin and seemed to weigh a little heavier in his grasp.

Trust was a heavy burden to own and he really wasn’t sure if he deserved it.  

Meiri skipped back over to them holding up the level so she could peer through one of the small openings between one of the bubble vials.

“Are we gonna get pancakes?” Meiri asked.

“Better,” Aelin answered, “Rowan’s going to take you to the library.”

Meiri gasped in excitement. “Yes!”

Aelin smiled as she crouched down next to her daughter. “Listen to Rowan, okay? I’ll see you tonight after work.”

“Bye, Momma! I love you!”  Meiri threw her arms around Aelin’s neck, nearly smacking her in the head with the level.

Chuckling, Aelin dodged the near assault.  She gently took the level from her daughter. “Let’s be careful with Rowan’s tools, these aren’t toys.”

Meiri nodded, the picture of innocence.

Aelin stood, drawing this good-bye out as long as she could.  Even Rowan wasn’t completely detached from human emotion to notice.

“I’ll make sure my phone’s charged,” Rowan assured her, “and I’ll get your number from Marion.  If that’s alright.”

“You have a phone?” Aelin asked, brow raised.  For the first time that day she was actually directing her amusement at him and not disdain.

“I haven’t used it in a while,” Rowan admitted. The only reason he new where it was was so Sartaq could keep in contact.

Despite the small bit of humor she’d just displayed, Aelin still looked hesitant.  One hand flexed toward Meiri who now butted her head into Aelin legs.  “Just keep me updated.”

“Updates every fifteen minutes,” Rowan promised.

That got a genuine smile. “Thirty minutes is fine.”

…

“Do you like reading Meiri?” Rowan asked as not more than ten minutes later he and Aelin’s daughter were rounding the steps to the library.

The building was small, tucked right up against the post office.  When they entered the double doors, Rowan got the distinct scent of fresh paper and static cleanliness that could only belong to a post office.  It mingled with the subtle undertones of cedar and book musk.

 “Yeah!” Meiri said.  “My favorite is the story of the princess who has to go find her family in the lost castle.  Do you know that story?” 

“Uh, no.”  The last book Rowan had read was…hell, he couldn’t even remember.

Meiri sighed.  “Do you know the story about the ducks?”

“No.”  Whatever fascination Meiri had once had for him was certainly draining away now.  Quickly.

They entered the main lobby of the library where there was a large display of children’s books set in the summer months and a cutout of a puppy with balloons tied to its collar.  Fly away with reading! Was written out overhead.

“Well what do you know?” Meiri asked.

Rowan thought back to what Sellene would have read at Meiri’s age.  “What about Snow White?” 

“She doesn’t have a sword.”

Well at least Rowan knew Aelin was giving her daughter a well rounded view of the world.  Though, admittedly, a lot of fairy tales could be improved if the princess had a sword.

“I’ll ask Marion for help,” Rowan assured Meiri.

He found a small table where he could plug his phone in and let it charge enough to make sure it would actually turn on, before making sure Meiri was settled in the picture book section.  He made sure not to go too far where Meiri was out of view as he looked for Marion.  Despite how small the library was, he wouldn’t take his chances on Meiri running off.

It didn’t take long before Marion appeared from a back room with a stack of books in her arms.  She paused when she saw Rowan.

“Hi,” she said, “what are you…?”

Rowan jutted a thumb back to where Meiri was picking out books. “I’m helping Aelin out with Meiri.”

“Aelin let you take her daughter out of her sight?” Marion obviously did not believe what Rowan was saying.  She propped the books she held on one hip as she walked to the main counter. “She doesn’t know you.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said.  He shrugged. “I  don’t really know why either.”

Marion set her books down and brushed adjusted the bun her hair was knotted in.  She reached for the small phone sitting next to her computer.  Rowan didn’t even try to argue as she immediately began texting.  

“Her shift just started,” he offered helpfully.

Marion only glared up at him.  For such a small woman, she would have made an excellent army ranger.  He could see her ordering a group of soldiers around without much effort at all.  Hell, she could even give Lorcan a run for his money with that scowl.

“Why would I kidnap a five year old and immediately bring her to a library?” Rowan added after Marion finished her message.

“Because you’re up to something,” Marion said. “Showing up to a small town and offering no information about yourself.  Helping out a family you just met.  Don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’re doing for Emrys and Malakai.”

It had been, maybe, a half hour since speaking with Dorian and already the gossip was circulating.

Determination flashed in Marion’s eyes.  As well as mistrust.  Rowan had spent plenty of time trying to understand people, interrogating them, learning everything he could about them that he knew these subtler human emotions.

“I tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.  And then, to make a point he added: “Marion’s not even your real name, is it?”

That got a reaction.  Marion stiffened, just barely, but it was enough to tell Rowan enough.  It was a cruel thing to point out, especially given how protective and cautious she was--but he knew, he knew, there was something different about her.  

“Can I have Aelin’s number?  I told her I would text her with updates.”  Rowan tapped a pad of sticky notes for emphasis.

Marion muttered a curse under her breath but did as requested.  She handed him the note, jaw set with anger.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said.

He went back to where his phone was charging, unlocking it and disregarding the missed messages waiting for him.  Those weren’t important.  There were only three people who had his number and he didn’t want to talk to any of them.  Well, technically a few others but dealing with ghosts never got him anywhere.

He tapped out a quick message to Aelin.

>>This is Rowan.  Meiri is currently well on her way to emptying out the entire library.

He debated sending a picture along with it but decided against it.  He doubted Aelin would want a near stranger having pictures of her daughter on his phone.

Hell.  She must have been desperate to let him take Meiri for the afternoon.

Just as he moved to set the phone back down a new message buzzed through.  He thought it was Aelin already responding until he saw the I.D.  He should have known they would reach out like this.

<<im back stateside

<<we need to talk

<<its important

<<you cant ignore me forever

Rowan frowned.  Well he sure as shit could try.

He locked the phone and went over to the small play area where Meiri was rapidly accumulating a large pile of books.  She sat at a small table with a book propped up before her.  One finger trailed along the words as she slowly mouthed the words out.

“K-k-kwik,” she said, “the dog was quick.”

Rowan didn’t know much about kids, but he had a feeling Meiri was far above the usual reading level.  She glanced up when he approached and waved her book in the air.

“C’mon, you said you’d read with me.”

So, Rowan went over and took a seat in the tiny plastic chair beside her and read about the dog that ran all through a small town wrecking havoc as it went.  Every few books, Meiri would get up and wander around to find another book or two and bring them back for Rowan to read.

She was so entranced by each story, Rowan didn’t have the heart to shirk his duties so he wound up doing voices and accents for the different characters.  He made sure to send Aelin messages along the way--ignoring the ones from his old contacts--and just tried to keep Meiri entertained.  

Eventually Marion came over with a coloring book and giant box of crayons for Meiri to color with.  The girl happily took the items and set to work, choosing to go sit in a corner next to a giant stuffed elephant.

Marion sat in one of the kid chairs across from Rowan, chin propped in one hand.

“You know,” she said, “that kid is one of a kind.  And Aelin loves her more than anything.”

It wasn’t anything Rowan was surprised to hear.  Meiri did seem like a different kid than most.  And Aelin’s love for her was one of the first things Rowan had noticed in the diner that first day in Terrasen.  He eyed Marion wondering what she was getting at.

“When Chaol and Aelin were dating, well, if you could call it that,” Marion shrugged, “he wanted something serious and she was just trying things out.  Anyways.  They were doing whatever and he tried to find her family.  Or…I think he did.  Almost told them exactly where to find her too.  I’ve…I’ve never seen her more upset.”

Marion paused, picking at a hangnail.

“I don’t know exactly what happened in her past,” she finally continued, “but I know enough.  And if…if it was anything of what I went through then she deserves to be happy, to have this time and place for her and her kid.  You should have seen the look on her face when Chaol said he found her cousin.  I swear she was going to leave right then and there, murder him too.  She just wants to raise her daughter.”

The words sunk in slowly, taking their time to nestle into Rowan’s brain.  He could hear what was left unsaid and come to his own conclusions.  It didn’t mean he could trust any of it.  Not that Marion or Aelin would blatantly lie about this sort of thing, but they could certainly leave out bits of truth.

“I’m just here for myself,” Rowan said. “I’ll leave as soon as Emrys is back on his feet.”

Marion smiled. “Didn’t you say the same thing about your car?”

She was, unfortunately, right.

“Rowan?” Meiri said, scrambling up from beside that stuffed animal.  Crayons went flying as she moved. “I’m hungry.”

He smiled at the little girl with her wild hair and mismatched clothes.  Confident and strong just like her mother.

“Alright, let's get something to eat.”

If there was anyone that could keep her child safe from the wiles of the world, Rowan was sure it would be Aelin.  He just hoped that one day, maybe, she’d be able to stop running.

…

The heat of Kovac dissipated only slightly when a storm blew in.  Instead of being a dry and consuming heat it had turned into a melting pot of humidity. Dust and sand kicked up from wind and the few trucks that were still on the move, leaving everything in a hazy glaze.  Adding to that a burst of rain and lightning, the desert felt like a whole new type of misery.

Supposedly, the one thing to come of it all was that there would be no scouting or fighting that day.  Rowan wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.  For a while now, he’d felt on edge.  As if he were always waiting for something to happen--and IED to go off, a sneak attack to occur, something that he couldn’t fix.  

He tried to play it cool, to ignore the way his thoughts would latch on to every negative and dangerous thing.  Tried to pretend he was being logical in his worry, that he was simply preparing for what may come.  It was flimsy at best and a part of him knew it.  Ever since the raid last week and the reality that they'd be getting a new commander…Things were changing and Rowan  didn’t like it.  Lorcan or Gavriel were more than capable leaders and if Maeve wanted to divide the squad, she could just keep Gav in his current position and promote Lorcan.  Or even Vaughan.  Bringing in a new body now seemed like a stupid idea.  Rowan knew better than to argue against Maeve when she had her mind set on something, though.  It wasn’t worth the demerit.

He simply tried to keep his frustration at bay.  His squad mates had only offered the usual glare in Maeve's direction at the announcement.  They each felt the frustration but there was nothing to be done at this point.  Not if they wanted to keep things running smoothly.

Unfortunately, they were set to meet Hammel that day.  He’d arrived sooner than anticipated, which Rowan would choose to see as a good thing, a way to get into a new rhythm and normal before the next planned raid.  In the week since the announcement, Rowan had done his own background check on Hammel.  Perhaps it was an abuse of power to call in the favors he did, but he’d wanted to learn everything about the man he could.

He’d spent the last year and a half in Oregon on a small base up there as a trainer.  Many of the men he’d worked with had gone on to get accommodations, many even being stationed in Kovac as well.  There was a brief incident report of someone breaking into his off base apartment and beating his girlfriend before stealing some cash and the tv.  Something about that didn’t seem right, but it was only one report relating to Hammel.  He was an excellent marksman and scout but his true skills lied in stealth work.

Officially, Hammel was a good soldier.  One of the best.

Unofficially…well.  There was only one comment from a young cadet who had been discharged part way through boot camp after “over escalating” a situation between her and a fellow cadet.

Lieutenant Hammel did not take my comments or safety seriously in this investigation.  I would formally request placement in another unit. The cadet had instead been honorably discharged before vanishing entirely.

It wasn’t a lot to base his opinion on, but Rowan was already coming to his own conclusions.

So when the official call came in for the Cadre, as they were known by, to meet with Hammel--Rowan did his best to let the irritation fade away.

"Gentlemen," Hammel greeted once they were all seated.  

The briefing area was as hot and muggy as ever, settling them all with another level of discomfort.  

Lorcan as usual chose a back corner seat, hardly sitting at attention.  Gavriel maintained his decorum and the twins were as lanky and childish as ever.  Rowan glanced at Talbot who had been whisked into the squad after the last raid and Hernandez transferred him.  Rowan didn't know the reasonings, but he liked the kid so he didn't argue.

Before them now, Hammel stood tall and at ease.  Though, there was no mistaking the cold silver of his gaze and the harsh lines of his face.  His red hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a cold ring on one finger.  He didn't seem the least bit concerned with anything but himself.

“I've heard you're undisciplined and like to cause problems."  Hammel raised a single brow looking as though he couldn't have cared less about the lot of them. "Not under my command.  There have been too many slip ups and unsuccessful raids.  These mess ups will no longer happen or I'll make sure the rest of your weeks here are as miserable as your lives."

It was quite the speech, not that Rowan was truly intimidated by it.  He'd already experienced hell and this man wasn't going to make things worse.

"We'll start with a practice training tomorrow, no matter the weather conditions, you've got to be capable of working through anything.  Sniper!"

Rowan sat up, lifting his chin. 

"Only five confirmed kills," Hammel lifted a lip. "Do better."

"None of my men have died in the last two tours I’ve done," Rowan said, "sir.  I've protected my men."

That sneer only broadened. "When I give you an order, soldier, you accept it.  No arguments."

Rowan only stared at the other man.  He fought the urge to gauge everyone else's reactions.  Hell, he wanted to see Gav most of all.  Gav who’d been their leader for nearly two years now and was being sidelined for someone younger.  

Rowan had known war wouldn’t be easy.  He’d known he would kill, potentially be killed.  He knew his perceptions of life would change and that nothing, nothing, would be the same when he was finished.  But to be told to take more lives?  To add more chaos into the world?

“Yes, sir.”  Rowan didn’t salute.  He didn’t move a muscle until Hammel turned the conversation to the next raid that would take place as soon as the storm passed and this time they would see results.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tumblr isn't allowing me to tag blogs properly so any reblogs would be greatly appreciated! <3

[prismaticpollen]

the things we do for friendship (4/4)

original characters, f/f, allergy

It’s finally showtime, and Vul handles the spotlight like a natural, but she can only keep up appearances for so long. Later, Wren enjoys an unexpected encore.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

They’d made it. They’d really made it, the big day had come and gone and everything had gone according to plan.

The crowd beyond the stage stood frozen, shutters clicking and lights flashing as cameras captured what their wielders were struggling to process. Beyond the cameras, over the airwaves, Wren knew the whole world was watching. Anyone who hadn’t tuned in live would surely see reruns soon enough, and soon enough everyone would have to reimagine everything.

She almost felt sorry for them all. There was nothing to worry about, really, but she knew very well how hard the work ahead was going to be. She’d gone through the same process just a few weeks prior, and it had been exhausting.

It had been worth it, though. Vul had been worth it.

She was reaching for her, fingers fluttering in her direction under cover of the podium. Neither of them could move yet, not until the broadcast ended, so small gestures would have to do. This one’s meaning was fairly obvious: now what?

Wren shifted to the right, just enough to meet Vul in the middle without turning away from the audience. She grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and waited.

Vul didn’t squeeze back, but she did lean a little closer. As soon as she turned her head, Wren caught her eye and winked at her. You did great, she mouthed.

Yay. The other girl’s tail twitched, one tiny crack in her stoic exterior. Otherwise, she stood still, watching the crowd file out of the makeshift press room. None of the nobles, reporters, or other notable figures seemed to notice anything amiss; as far as they knew, Vul was perfectly content onstage.

Wren knew better. She was close enough to recognize her friend’s discomfort, and knew her well enough to pinpoint the source. That said, she also knew how she herself had handled her first experience with public speaking, back when she’d been ten years younger and eight inches shorter. All she’d had to present was a book report.

Vul, on the other hand, had just introduced herself to a room full of total strangers, trying to make a good impression on behalf of her entire species. A little stage fright was perfectly understandable, yet she was barely showing it. She really was doing a great job.

I mean it. Wren chanced another look down and to her right, flashing what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She squeezed Vul’s hand again, then let go.

A bright light in front of her captured a different smile, the practiced one she used at important events. The photographer smiled back and disappeared into the crowd. Another long moment of stillness, waiting for the last of the reporters to leave, then it was over.

Queen Zara rose from her chair as gracefully as could be expected from a woman in her sixties. Several attendants trailed behind her as she crossed the stage, stopping next to Vul to make a complicated series of gestures with both hands.

One of the attendants stepped forward to snap a few close-ups. The others stayed back, watching curiously as Vul reciprocated.

They needn’t have worried about that part. Vul copied the motions perfectly; they were a turresk ritual, after all, one she’d taught the Queen the night before while they’d done one last round of rehearsals.

One last photo, Wren and Vul and Zara beaming at the attendant with the camera, and they were free.

“Congratulations, Ambassador,” the Queen said. “Councilor Bailey.” She didn’t wait for any sort of acknowledgment, just dipped her head towards them and turned to leave without another word.

That was Wren’s cue: time to get Vul out of there.

The moment they were alone, she closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm around the shorter girl and stooping slightly to look her in the eye. “You really did a great job,” she said again. “I know we’re supposed to have the night off, but I’m thinking we might have to do one more thing once we get home. You in for a celebratory movie night?”

“Sure, ‘mm in,” Vul answered quietly. She sounded fuzzy, not quite slurring her words, but definitely not enunciating as much as usual. “Just one though.”

“You got it, one movie coming soon. Early night’s not a bad idea, we could both use the extra sleep.”

“Mmm.” Vul stifled a yawn, mumbling her agreement from behind her hand. She stretched her other arm above her head, shaking herself like a wet dog, then dropped both arms to her sides and moved toward the door.

Wren followed her off the stage, out of the courtyard, and down the hall leading to the guest wing of the palace. That was home, now. The Queen had insisted, partly for tradition’s sake but mostly for security, so Vul had been forced to move everything she’d salvaged from her old life for a second time in just under a month. Her new residence wasn’t that much bigger than Wren’s apartment, but it was fancier and much more private, plus it was on the ground floor instead of the fifth.

Technically it was Wren’s new home too, she just hadn’t officially moved yet. Her furniture was only halfway assembled, all her mail was still getting delivered to her old address, and she hadn’t even finished unpacking boxes. She’d been so busy she’d barely had time to care about the mess, much less do anything about it, but that was fine. Just what she needed, one more thing to deal with once everything calmed down a little. Totally fine.

Wait a minute. Speaking of boxes, there was a new one.

She hadn’t been expecting any deliveries, but there it was. Whoever had dropped it off hadn’t bothered to put it with the other boxes. They’d just let themselves in while she and Vul were gone, shoved it against the wall next to an end table, and left it there for her to find.

The delivery must have involved palace staff, probably housekeeping, but the package itself could have come from anywhere. It bore no return address, no label, no distinguishing features at all.

Weird. What could possibly be in there?

Nothing useful came to mind. No way to know what was in the box without opening it.

Oh well, no rush. She could move the box to a more convenient spot for now, then come back to it after movie night. She stepped closer, squatting down to lift it, and promptly did a double take.

Whatever was inside the box, it was packed tight, almost completely flush with the cardboard, and it was much heavier than it looked. Furthermore, there was a note after all, but it told her absolutely nothing about the box or its sender. It wasn’t even a proper note, just a scrap of paper taped to the side, bearing her name and Vul’s in an unfamiliar hand.

Interesting. Maybe movie night could wait a little while. “Vul, come here for a sec,” she called. “You have mail.”

Vul didn’t respond. With her senses the way they were, she should have heard Wren loud and clear, but if she had heard, she would have answered immediately.

Come to think of it, she shouldn’t have been far enough away to need summoning. She’d only been a few steps ahead on the walk back from the press conference, then Wren had stopped to inspect the mysterious package and she’d vanished into the depths of their shared suite. She could have simply forgotten about their plans, but that wasn’t likely. She wasn’t usually forgetful, and the trip home was too short to allow for any major distractions.

Could she have changed her mind and gone straight to bed? Still unlikely, given the time of night, but she had seemed tired earlier. At least that was easy enough to check. All Wren had to do was knock on Vul’s bedroom door, or poke her head in if she’d left it open, and if she wasn’t there then it wasn’t just exhaustion that had her acting weird. If anything else was bothering her, they could fix it together once they’d had a chance to talk about it.

She didn’t even have to go very far; Vul’s room was close enough to the front door that Wren didn’t need to maneuver around any significant amount of clutter. She just cut straight across the living room, turned left, and reached the threshold in less than thirty seconds.

Her roommate’s door was wide open.

Vul had, in fact, gone to bed, but she wasn’t resting. She sat upright, with her tail lashing back and forth against the mattress and her head tilted toward the ceiling. Every few seconds, she inhaled sharply, exhaling in slow, shuddery bursts like she’d been overcome with emotion.

She almost could have been crying, save for one detail: her eyes were dry, and she was baring her teeth like a snake about to unhinge its jaw.

Wren had seen that face before, many times, but the sight only made her more confused. Turresk bared their teeth like that when they were happy, but they lashed their tails when they were nervous or in pain, and they didn’t normally cry, at least not the way humans did. All together, it made no sense.

What was she doing? Another ritual?

Wren stood in the doorway, watching, because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Would it be better to wait quietly, or just leave? Should she check in on her?

She didn’t get the chance to decide. Vul moved first, rocking backwards with another giant gasp. One more breath, even bigger, throwing her down onto the bed with the force of it. Her eyes widened, then slammed shut. Another ragged breath.

“Hhaah…. hhaaaahh-! HhaaaHHH-EHHHH! HHAATSCHIEEWWW!”

Vul folded in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and curling her tail tight against her body. She hadn’t noticed Wren, that much was obvious now. She probably wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings at all.

“HHAAAHTSCHIIHHH! HHTSCHHIIEEEWW!”

Those were huge for her. Still, Vul wasn’t done. Was she okay?

Vul shivered. Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, then her whole face crumpled. “Nnnngghh-! Nngh-HAAH! HHAAHH…”

Her hands closed into fists at her sides. She was trembling, whining and hitching uncontrollably, barely able to get a full breath in.

“HAAHTSHIII! HHHT’TSSSCH! HHEEHTCHUHHH! EHHTCHUUU!”

Vul sounded desperate. She was just sneezing, which wasn’t that unusual for either of them, but she almost sounded like she was doing something else.

“HAAH… HAAH… HAAHH-AAH-! HAAHH! HAAAHH-HAAH’EHTCHUU! EEHHTCHHUUU!! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUUU!”

She definitely looked like she was doing something else. She stretched suddenly, limbs flung out wide, tail extended to its full length and thrashing wildly. Her fists clenched tighter, gripping the mattress beneath her for dear life while she struggled with her own reflexes.

“HAAHTCHIIEEWW! HAAH… HATCHIIUUU! AAHTCHUUU! TCHUUU! TCHUUU!”

Finally, Vul lay still. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing started slowing back to normal, but she wasn’t in any shape to move just yet.

To Wren’s surprise, neither was she. Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, and her whole body felt flushed and tingly. She wanted to run to her own room, shut the door behind her, and hide there until she figured out what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t budge from the doorway.

She shouldn’t have stayed, but by the time she’d realized what was happening, she’d been captivated. Vul had looked so different during her fit, so unburdened and open and so beautiful that Wren couldn’t look away.

She was still captivated, even now. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Vul, so she stood still and waited.

She was still waiting when Vul hauled herself to her feet and stumbled towards her.

Brown eyes met ultra-vivid blue. Wren looked away first, blushing furiously.

Vul stopped short. “Wren? What’s wrong?”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Wait, really? You’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I- No!” Vul was indignant. “I’m not messing with you. I mean it.”

“Okay,” Wren giggled.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. That actually explains a lot.”

Vul looked skeptical. “Does that mean we’re good now?”

“As long as you’re not mad at me. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m happy,” Vul confirmed. She sat for a moment, thinking, then leaned forward, baring her teeth mischievously. “Actually, wait. Before we get to movie night, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“If you liked the view so much, maybe you should join me next time.”

Wren wrinkled her nose and winked. “Maybe I will.”

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: death, trafficking references (Kerch indenture law), weapons, violence, murder, dehumanisation

AO3 link

Chapter 12 - Inej

“And exactly why do I care?” asked Kaz, coolly.

Kaz’s office at the Crow Club was by far the most difficult room to eavesdrop on in any of the Dregs’ main haunts, and Inej didn’t doubt that was why he had chosen it. Inej also didn’t find a lack of windows or accessibility at all off putting, and was currently laying flat on her front so she could just about squeeze into the space between Kaz’s ceiling and the floor above it. There was a gap between some of the slats, barely perceptible from below unless you were at the perfect angle, that Inej had found after only a few weeks of working with the Dregs when she was preparing herself for her first real job by trying to move about the Crow Club undetected. It proved a surprisingly simple task, but Inej had never been quite sure if Kaz knew that she was there. As she peered through the gap now she was gifted the slightly hazy image of Kaz, leaning back in his chair with his gloved fingers closed over the head of his cane, and the very edge of Jesper sitting opposite him at the desk. 

Perhaps Inej should feel guilty for spying on Kaz; here, outside his window at the Slat, through a vent above Per Haskell’s office. But it was him who had made her the Wraith, wasn’t it? You couldn’t train a falcon and expect it not to hunt. If he never bothered to tell her anything himself, she would have to find the information her own way. 

“You’re going to steal the secrets of the rich men of Ketterdam,” he’d told her, months ago, amongst a longer speech. It felt like years ago. It felt like days. “And I’m going to use that information to take that money,”

“What happens when you take their money, and you become a rich man?”

That had made him smile.

“Then you can steal my secrets too,”

Well, Inej had seen the books: Kaz was more than comfortably on his way to being rich. So what if she was jumping the gun a little? Of course she knew, or at least she supposed, that the dark shimmer of humour behind his words was because he would never be rich; no matter what money Kaz Brekker accrued, he lived in the worst slum in the Barrel, his cash wasn’t safe to just spend without thinking, he would always be DIrtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. When Kaz said rich he didn’t mean money, not always. He meant old money, real money, Geldin District money. Even Zelvar District; it was earned money, then, not old money, but five kruge from a lawyer would always be worth more than ten of Kaz’s ill-gotten gains. Plenty of people got rich in the Barrel - people like Pekka Rollins, and Tante Heleen - but no-one made real money. Inej had realised a long time ago that you couldn’t make real money, you could only inherit it and add more to the pile. 

“If you want to make anything off that kid-”

“If there’s truth to anything you’ve told me, Jesper, then I wouldn’t have been able to make a penny off him anyway. I’m cutting my losses,”

Inej had come late to the conversation, but she assumed they must be talking about Wylan. Once she’d got Jesper back to his dorm last night, she made him drink two glasses of water and then waited until he’d fallen asleep - it didn’t take long - before she went to find Nina and tell Kaz was calling them home.

“We’re not even hanging around tonight?”

Inej shook her head.

“Everything completely cancelled,”

“Damn,” Nina shook her head, “I owe him back for two weeks income now,”

They’d walked back to the Barrel together, bags in hand, following the waterway along the Southern border of the Financial District until they were at the very bottom of West Stave. Because of the canals and where the bridges were situated, they had to go up past the Crow Club before Inej could turn back towards the Slat. They stopped on the bridge and Nina put her arms around Inej’s shoulders.

“You sure you don’t want to come back to the Slat for a while?” asked Inej.

The sun was rising but Inej was going to try to get a few hours of sleep anyway, and she could tell that Nina was tired as well. But she shook her head, smiling. 

“No, I should get back. I probably have a thousand clients waiting,” she teased, “But I’ll be insisting on taking a nap first, I think,”

Inej stood and watched for a moment as Nina began to head North, and then slowly turned and began to wander back to the Slat. She was exhausted, and she thought she might have managed two hours of sleep since she got back and got everything sorted through, but as soon as she woke up she’d come to the Crow Club and found herself hiding inside Kaz’s ceiling. 

“You reckon she was already dead, or that The Peacock got her?” Rotty was saying to Anika and Pim as Inej walked through the door.

“Too clean,” said Anika, quieter than Rotty had, her words holding more melancholy where his did intrigue, “Nothing I’ve ever heard makes me think she does deaths that clean,”

Inej frowned, feeling a sudden alertness taking hold of her at the sound of that name. The Peacock. That was how the rest of the Barrel referred to Heleen Van Houden, but to her girls it was Tante Heleen or the back of her hand. 

“What happened?” she asked, turning to Rotty and the others.

None of them had realised she was there, and a surprised whisper of Wraith quickly flew between their mouths. She prompted again.

“The Leopard showed back up this morning,” said Rotty, “They found her a couple of hours ago. Dead,”

Inej shivered. At the Menagerie each girl was known by her animal counterpart; a Fjerdan wolf, a Shu serpent, a Zemeni fawn, a Kaelish mare. A Suli lynx. The Leopard was the costume worn by the girl from the Southern Colonies. Inej didn’t know her - no-one had been wearing that cloak when Inej was there, except for the last month of her indenture when a little scrap of a thing from the Colonies had shown up. They’d never spoken, in fact Inej had seen very little of her because the Leopard had spent most of that month in the room downstairs, but Inej had recognised her on the occasional time she crossed through West Stave. A pretty girl with blonde curls and deep brown eyes that looked more like they belonged to a doe, despite the spots painted on her neck and across her collar bones. She’d heard about her going missing because it happened right before she and Nina went to the university and she didn’t doubt rumours had flown across the staves - by all accounts, the Leopard was currently Heleen’s most popular item on display. Or she had been, anyway.

“How?”

“Strangled, it looks like. They left her on the steps outside the Menagerie, I heard the Peacock complaining it’s gonna reduce business,”

Inej’s hand drifted to her knives.

“Where’s Kaz?”

“In his office, with Fahey, last I saw,”

Inej nodded, then walked away and ignored the whispers that surely followed. She slipped upstairs; it was mostly private game rooms up here but none were populated this morning, and the staff room at the far end was probably empty or near it if the rooms weren’t currently in use. Inej slipped into the store cupboard above Kaz’s office and leant against the door, whispering a prayer for a girl with no name. 

“Demo,” said Jesper now, suddenly, as Kaz stood up.

Inej was pulled out of her thoughts. Kaz paused at the corner of his desk, leaning heavily against his cane as he turned back to see Jesper.

“Demo?”

“You said you want more hands on demolitions,” Jesper breathed, “Last week, I heard you telling Raske,”

Kaz conceded it with a nod. Inej was only mildly surprised; Raske was the best demolitions expert in the Barrel, but he was also one man and the only member of the Dregs who knew what he was doing with a bomb. 

“Wylan can do demo. He’s a chemist, Kaz, he can make anything,”

“You’ve seen his work?”

“Yes,”

Inej was pretty sure that was a lie, but apparently Kaz was either fooled or willing to be fooled, because he nodded slowly.

“What are you staking on it?”

Oh Saints, Kaz.

“What?”

“I’m not putting my neck on the line for no reason, Jes. I’ve already lost a lot of money this week, I don;t fancy adding to that. If this goes sideways or the kid isn’t any use to me I want compensation, and I know you don’t have any cash so I need some insurance. What are you staking?”

There was a long pause. An inexplicably long pause, actually. A noise behind Inej made her flinch and she had to restrain a gasp as one of the boards beneath her creaked. Kaz looked up, almost straight at the tiny gap Inej was peering through, but he mustn’t have been at the right angle because he only mused:

“Layla’s dropping my merchandise again,”

Layla waited tables at the Club, and had an unfortunate reputation for accidentally smashing rather expensive bottles and platters. Sometimes Inej wondered why Kaz kept her on, but then she saw her at the tables and knew exactly why; Layla could dazzle anything out of anyone, and she would sail back past Kaz and Inej armed to the teeth with political gossip for Inej to follow up on.

Silence fell back over the office for a time, but Inej could hear footsteps behind her now. Any minute Layla or another staff member could wander in and find her spying on Per Haskell’s best lieutenant, and probably - especially if word of the run-in with Velthuis and the Black Tips was spreading as quickly as she predicted it would - accuse of her of betraying the Dregs. Even though she trusted that Kaz knew she never would, that was a near-on impossible thing to come back from around here. Your gang was your family, and Inej already felt like she didn’t entirely belong. 

“Well?” asked Kaz, after another long moment had passed, “Am I doing this or not?”

Jesper stood up, unslung his gun belt, and dropped his prize revolvers onto Kaz’s desk. 

“Your insurance,”

Inej couldn’t see their faces properly, but she could imagine the exact arch of Kaz’s brow. 

“Alright then,” he said, walking towards the door, “I’m in,”

[alexpanganiban]

The immediate and appallingly plausible rationale that Darcy came up with for why the person on the inside would be Alex -- that he'd been implanted into their minds as somebody trustworthy as a guide, all set up through eight years of We The Survivors -- would've been truly impressive if it wasn't also truly fruitbat levels of bonkers. But hey! Who was to say that fruitbat bonkers wasn't what would actually for real crack this whole thing wide open?? What Alex was doing, encouraging and in fact feeding her delusion, just might turn out to be the bit of unexpected grist for the mill, the spark in the machine, the get up and go when it came to figuring out what they were all doing here.

He was, basically? A total big damn hero.

Darcy started peppering him with questions faster than a tommy-gun, but then she reined it in, looking wise as she tempered her curiosity and investigations, much to Alex's relief. He had no doubt about his own improv skills but he didn't want to dig himself too deep, not right off the bat, not before he had a chance to actually find out some stuff and construct some viable wild goose chases for Darcy to go on.

"That's right," he said, with pompous congratulations lacing his voice. "Very good. They don't want you to be spoon-fed everything, because then it wouldn't be valuable, it wouldn't be viable, anybody could just pump the information out of somebody if that was the case. What's important is seeing what you come up with on your own. Under your own steam. And I don't mind telling you, Darcy--" Alex rocked back on his heels for more effect, "--you're waaaaaaaay ahead of everyone else here. Talk about a running start!"

And all of this was met with touching gratitude, so Alex nodded with a sweet smile and squeezed Darcy's hand. "It's a relief, honestly," he said in a confessional tone, "to know there's somebody here who's got half a finger on the truth. Just don't give any of it away, now...."

Everything that Alex was telling her got Darcy more and more excited - there was a moment when she wondered if he was just messing with her and it was a new way of humoring her, but really, Alex wasn't just humoring her, letting her rant about what she knew already just to see how he could make fun of her later or poke supposed holes into what she was telling him, no. He was including himself in it and if it was all just a game, why would he do that? It made no sense in her eyes. So he must be telling the truth.

Which meant that she was right (not that she was doubting it at all, really, but still, it was a warm and exciting feeling to have confirmation) and everyone could suck it.

(She'll try to be more gracious about it to other's in their face, in her head she could be gloating.)

"So I was right," she muttered. "All of this-- holy shit, it really is for something huge and you know! You know everything! And that is why you are here specifically - for your survival skills. We saw you in the television in the simulation to make sure we all know we can rely on you out here for whatever is thrown at us. It's so smart, such a subtle way to set you up in a helping position without us ever realizing that you are in the know and you can steer things along if push comes to shove.

"How many other people are in the know? Are they all in similar positions? Do you know who they are?" she was firing rapid-fire questions off at this point, but then suddenly shook her head, changing gear. "No, nevermind, I get it, you can't reveal things too early. I get it. I'll just-- I'll figure it out on my own. I can totally do it, I figured the big things out already, the smaller details shouldn't be that hard."

Darcy reached over then, placing her hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. "Thank you. I-- you could get into trouble for even confirming all of this for me, so you probably should have just called me crazy and denied it all, but you didn't and I really do appreciate it so much. Thank you for telling me all of this."

[meetmymouth]

theadora, part seven

previous parts | full chapters on patreon | playlist

He said he would text.

He doesn’t.

She keeps checking her phone after putting Thea down to sleep, but Harry’s text doesn’t come. She knows she’s making a huge deal out of this, and he would probably text either later tonight, or first thing in the morning about where they would go since they’d talk about going somewhere earlier tonight. So, she tries not to think about it too much.

That was the thing, really, she thought way too much– especially when it came to Harry. She often found herself overthinking to the point where the Harry in her head does or say something which annoys her, and she thinks about that version of Harry way too much that when she ends up seeing the real Harry, she feels herself holding grudges because of something he has said or done in her head. It was unhealthy, and certainly unfair to him. She needed to stop.

So, she makes herself a cheese toastie, pours herself a glass of wine, and sits in front of the telly, feet up on the coffee table, Thea’s breathing oozing from the baby monitor filling the living room. She watches an episode of Doctor Who, and has to get up and look at Thea, put her back to sleep when she wakes up in the middle of the night. She goes down easily, and she leaves her bedroom with a smile on her face, walking straight into the bathroom to take a quick shower before finally getting in bed. She finds that sleeping is in fact sacred, and that she should take the chance to sleep whenever and wherever she could considering her one-year-old.

After waking up twice because Thea does, she wakes up fairly early in the morning, just after six, and decides to do some work around the house before checking some work emails. She hoovers, unloads the dishwasher, and tries to clean her bedroom as much as she can, and it’s almost eight o’clock when Thea wakes up. They walk down the stairs, Thea yawning still, and she places her in her highchair, and feeds her, eyes darting to her phone from time to time because she’s still waiting to hear from Harry about their plans. As Thea is playing with her toys on the carpet, she takes her phone, and sits on the sofa, watching Thea as she presses her phone to her ear, and waits for Harry to pick up.

Harry doesn’t pick up.

She puts the phone down, and plays with Thea before it’s feeding time again– which is both their lunch, and when she finally sits back on the sofa with Thea in her lap, her phone rings.

It’s Harry. 

It’s also twelve past twelve in the afternoon.

“Y/N,” he says, all rushed as if someone’s trying to catch him. It sounds a lot like he’s in the car.

She hums. “Yes? I thought you were going to text me last night.”

“Yeah, I fell asleep pretty early and today– I’m having to go to Bath.”

“Sorry, what? Now?” She grows agitated, and she doesn’t even know if she has the right to feel that way. She figures she does.

Thea looks up, and starts babbling when she hears someone talking on the other end.

She hears Harry sigh, then a horn. “Yes, I know– it’s very last minute but since I can’t go to Nashville, I also have very limited time to record it here in Bath,” he says, hurriedly. “The sound engineer will be out of the country next week–”

“–Harry, I don’t care that you have to record,” she sighs, mimicking him. She squeezes Thea when she keeps looking up at her, and tries to give her a smile, knowing she’s sensing the anxiety bubbling up inside her mother. “You didn’t call this morning either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up in a meeting with Jeff, and then the call from the sound engineer came…”

“Harry, I– I don’t know what to say,” it’s the truth. “I know you’ve to work, and I understand that. I just wish you called this morning, told me you’d be working. Thea and I would’ve done something together or something.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.”

“Just– communication, H.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/N, I should’ve texted or phoned,” he murmurs. She shrugs, despite knowing he would never see.

They hang up, and she decides to take Thea for a walk. They pass Mr. Wilson’s house, and he stops them to say hi on the way as they chat about anything and everything while he waters his plants in his front garden. He makes Thea laugh, and asks about Harry only when they’re about to leave.

“Have seen him around a lot recently,” Mr. Wilson says, scratching his beard. “Good for him,” he goes on, nodding as she tries to give him a smile. “Divorce is hard, but you’ve to be present for your daughter.”

She nods, not having anything else to add. “He is around, visits often,” she says, just to keep things short and sweet.

“Good lad. Being a family– that’s what matters. You’ve to have each other’s backs, no matter what. You know my oldest, Lewis,” he says. She nods. “He and the missus got a divorce two years ago. He fucked off to Germany last year. Only calls on birthdays and whatnot.”

“Mhm.”

“Harry’s not like that, from what I’ve seen. Good lad, he is.”

“Yeah,” she nods, wanting to end the discussion. “He’s a good father.”

“Good for him– hey, good for you, Y/N. It’s not easy.”

“Yeah… right, we better get going Mr. Wilson,” she tries to smile. “Talk to you later.”

See, it was certainly not easy, she came to find it. Being single, being a divorced woman, it certainly was not easy in her eyes. She knows Harry feels the same, quite possibly, with them both still trying to adjust to the divorce… and she thinks it’s also hard on him because he does not get to see Theadora as much as she does.

There are days where she feels like a horrible mother, having to bear the thought of her daughter growing up in a broken home because she just couldn’t stand being on her own as Harry toured. Was she selfish? Could she have avoided the divorce, maybe? She didn’t know. She wanted to be with Harry still– she loved him… still. But she wasn’t ready to give in to those thoughts yet, she did not want to get hurt once again. She knew it was his job, and it was his job when she decided to date him, and also marry him; she knew all along. What she didn’t know was how alone she would feel whilst being with him, whether they were together or apart, in the same country or not… she, oftentimes, found herself alone.

She thought Harry put himself and his job before anything, which also included Y/N, too. When Thea was born, and Harry was ready to get back to work, she’d found herself worrying again– worrying that Harry would put his job before Thea, too. And sometimes, he did. He preferred recording for long hours at the studio than to be at home with Y/N and Thea, or decided four promo interviews in one day was a perfect decision even though Jeff had told him he would decline two of them for him to spend more time with his family. He’d just shrugged on FaceTime with Jeff, and said, ‘I can handle it’.

She looks up from Thea’s head, smiles when she sees her look around herself, taking everything in along their walk, and decides to walk to their local park so Thea can feed the ducks there. Despite the disappointment Harry had caused her this afternoon, she still takes numerous photos and videos of Thea and sends them all to Harry, and watches as he responds in no time, a series of black heart emojis, followed by an ‘I miss her!!!!’. She smiles, petting Thea’s head before they decide to leave, but not before Thea screams ‘buh-bye’ to the ducks because they seemed to be her favourites at the moment.

She sends him another set of pictures, of Thea in her crib sleeping, though this time, she doesn’t get a response. She decides that it’s okay, and that he must be working, so she FaceTimes Robin and Alena, and they all go on a full discussion about the series, Ted Lasso, and Alena adds, very brashly that she would ‘sleep with Ted in a heartbeat’, earning a glare from Robin themselves.

“It’s a TV show character,” they say, shaking their head as Alena munches on some blueberries.

“Who’s the actor playing him? Is he that goofy in real life?”

“Jason Sudeikis,” Y/N finds herself answering, laughing at the glare Robin have been sending Alena’s way. “And, no, he’s not that goofy.”

Alena offers some blueberries to Robin which they decline. “Then I would sleep with Jason Sudeikis.”

Robin groans. “You don’t even know what he’s like in real life.”

“Anyway,” she’s determined to change the topic. “Has Harry texted after that?”

“No,” she hums, eyes darting to the TV, then back at the duo. She doesn’t add anything else.

They both nod.

“It’s work, he probably couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah,” she looks at Alena. “Probably. It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I just wish he told me these things beforehand– you know? He’s always late when it comes to communicating.”

“Yeah,” Alena says. “Understandable.”

They hang up, and she takes a shower before Theadora decides to wake up for the third time that night, and finally gets in bed when the clock on her bedside shows twelve-to-one. When tomorrow comes, Harry still doesn’t text back to her last message, though she doesn’t think much of it. Co-parenting did not mean texting back and forth every second of the day, though she still thought Harry would text or FaceTimed to see Thea before Saturday rolled around.

When Thursday comes around, she becomes antsy.

It’s not like him to ignore her, or them. She thinks something must’ve came up, or maybe he’s on his way here.

That, she thinks, is not likely.

On Friday when Theadora walks around the flat, and keeps calling for ‘da-da’, Y/N chases her with her phone in hand, taking a video yet-again for Harry which she knows he won’t respond to. Despite that, she still sends it to him, ‘she’s saying dada!’, and instead of waiting for an answer, she puts Thea in her carseat, and they drive up to her dad’s. She still takes tons of pictures and videos of her feeding the chickens in the back garden, trying to drink her granny’s tea, and one of her drawing a tree according to Thea herself: ‘tee’. They have fun, and she manages to get some work done while Thea’s grandad and granny look after her.

They return to London when the clock shows six o’clock, and she quickly feeds Thea, then puts her to sleep without even checking her phone. When she hears it go off with a text, she sees that Harry’s finally getting back to her, and she reads the messages with a crease between her eyebrows.

‘I’m so sorry’ one says, ‘Studio was hectic’ another one goes, and finally, ‘I’m outside, can I come in for a bit?’.

She walks to the front door, and like his text said, he’s standing at the door, hands in her coat pocket as he keeps scratching his days-old stubble with a frown on his face.

“Hello,” she chuckles, because it’s good to see him– hear from him. “Nice of you to text us back.”

The frown deepens. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well,” she shrugs. “Yeah.”

She lets him in, and they walk to the kitchen, the kettle being turned on immediately as she watches him sit on one of the chairs. He plays with one of Thea’s stuffed toys that’s on the table for a bit, as if he’s trying his best not to make eye contact, and she finally has enough when he keeps fiddling with the toy instead of meeting her gaze.

“You could’ve texted,” she murmurs, turning around to pour water into their mugs. “I texted you so many times and not even to ask where you were. Just pictures and videos of Teddy.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.”

“I thought we were going to try. Communicate and all that…”

Harry sighs, and they both realise that he did not take his shoes off. She doesn’t say anything.

Instead, she places his tea in front of him, and sits on the chair, quietly sipping her tea while she waits for him to just say something– anything.

He takes the hint.

“The day I went to Bath, I genuinely forgot to let you know beforehand. Then,” he wraps his palms around his mug, presumably sighing at the warmth against his cold hands. “They kept pushing me to my limits, telling me I needed to record very quickly and in a perfect way because they didn’t have any time to waste on me after the last time.”

“The last time?”

“When I kept pushing it back, the recording.”

She nods. He continues.

“I recorded four songs while in Bath. Slept for… probably a total of ten hours in that time frame. It was awful. And I wanted to text,” he looks down at his tea. “But I knew I was in the wrong for not giving you a heads up. I chickened. I was embarrassed.”

She sighs, placing her tea back on the coaster. “Harry, you didn’t need to feel embarrassed. I’m not angry. I was actually– worried for a while. It’s not like you to ignore photos of Teddy. I just– just don’t shut me out,” she bites her lip, and tries to maintain eye contact. He nods, a tiny, barely-there smile appearing on his face. “You said it to me, don’t shut me out. We need to communicate.”

“I understand.”

“Yeah, good,” she nods.

“I’m done now,” he exhales, taking a big sip from his tea, and humming when the tea reaches his throat.

“Done with what?”

“Recording. Officially on my break. I’m still writing for the album– the next one. I’m not going to record anything anytime soon, though. No interviews as of yet. Even if they give me some, I’ll be home– do them online.”

“Okay… you deserve to rest.”

“Yeah,” a nod. “And see my daughter.”

“Of course.”

The smile on his face deepends, and he puts the mug back down. “Can I go up and see her?” He says, all giddy. “I promise not to wake her up.”

He sounds like a kid on a Christmas morning, she thinks. So, she nods, with a smile on her face, and watches him run up the stairs. She lets out a chuckle when he almost slips, but he doesn’t let it get in the way as he keeps running up the stairs. She sips her tea, goes on Twitter for a bit, then places her phone face down on the table. When she goes to take another sip from her tea, Harry’s phone vibrates, signalling a phone call. Curiosity gets the best of her and she cranes her neck to take a look at the caller ID, a smile appearing on her face when she notices it’s Anne who’s calling. Harry comes back, a smile on his face, and sits back down.

“I wish I took my phone with me,” he sighs, leaning back in his seat. He takes a sip from his tea. “She looks so cute when sleeping.”

“She’s hungry,” she says. “So, she’ll wake up soon for feeding time. Your phone rang, by the way.”

“Oh,” Harry taps once on the screen, and it lights up. “Was my mum. Oh– she asked if it would be okay if we visited one Saturday? Drove down to Cheshire.”

“Yeah, of course,” a nod. “It’s been a while since she’s seen Thea. You should take her and visit.”

He smiles, nodding. “Thank you.”

A beat.

Another beat.

Then Harry coughs into his fist, something she’s learned he did when he had to say something.

She doesn’t ask.

Instead, she takes yet-another sip from her sip. “How was Bath?”

“Oh,” Harry looks up, like he’s surprised that she’s asking about it. “It was nice. Finally got around to recording the last bits of the album.”

“Good– that’s good.”

A ding, and her attention falls to the phone on the table, signalling a text from the group chat she shared with Robin and Alena. When it goes off for the third time, she has to take it in her hands, and open the chain of texts.

Robin: I know we said no texts about the ex but wasn’t he in Bath to record?

Alena: ^^ (I’m at work what’s going on?)

Robin: this:

She looks up from the photo, and sighs. It’s not new, photos of Harry with a girl, or anyone for that matter. For that reason, she doesn’t think too much of it, it’s not even her place to think such things and question him on his private life. Despite the tinge of jealousy deep in her bones, she sends a shrugging emoji, and locks her phone, placing it face down on the table.

Harry’s watching, almost like a concentrated frog with a crease between his brows, and she shrugs again, muttering out a foolish excuse about her friends sending her memes. He lets it go, like he always does. It’s all good– they’re good.

“How’s work?”

She looks up. “Work’s good. I stop the whole working from home thing in three months so I’m trying to enjoy the pajama bottoms as much as I can,” she chuckles into her mug.

“You still got time,” Harry smiles. “How’s Natalie?”

At the name, she smiles, remembering how Natalie was also there when they first met.

“She’s good– doesn’t work for British GQ though. She’s over at British Vogue.”

“Oh? Wow– I didn’t know that; I haven’t spoken to her in ages. Since, you know…”

“Yeah,” she looks down at her lap. “So. Album? When’s that coming out? Or am I not allowed to know since I don’t fall into the ‘partners’ category?” She muses. Harry laughs, a breathy one.

“Honestly? I don’t know, yet. Next year probably. Beginning of May or something.”

With a nod, she lets it go.

There’s not much she can ask about, so she gets up from her seat, and walks over to the sink, placing her dirty mug in there before she turns to Harry again.

But, before she can say anything, try to fill the silence, Harry starts talking:

“Hey,” he says, timidness clear in his tone of voice. “Before you see it online… I met a friend while in Bath,” he says, all deep and hoarse.

She nods, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on his hands in his lap, fingers playing with the few rings that are on his index and middle finger.

“Okay,” she nods once again.

“So, yeah. She’s just a friend. A friend of a friend, actually.”

It all sounds familiar, she thinks.

She was once a friend of a friend.

“Okay, Harry.”

“What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I mean, okay. It’s okay. I know you get papped a lot. You don’t have to come up to me and explain– we’re not together.”

A crease between his brows. He straightens up in his seat. “I know that.”

A nod from her. “Okay.”

“Okay, cool, just– you know the tabloids, right?”

“I know,” she nods, crossing her arms. “They can be vicious. I know…”

“Yeah,” he scratches his cheek. “When do you think she’ll wake up?” He says, eyes looking towards the stairs. Her eyes follow.

“You can wake her up,” she says, the look in his eyes proving enough that he’s missed his daughter dearly. “I’m gonna try to feed her some solids this evening, you can stay and try if you like?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Got the okay from the doctors ages ago but you know…”

He nods. “Okay, I’d like that.”

Theadora wakes up soon enough, and Harry almost trips when running up the stairs. She shouts a ‘careful’ behind him, though he keeps running up the stairs. She hears him greet the baby, his voice velvet-like, the one he uses only when he’s talking to Thea, and he talks about how much he’s missed her, how lovely her sleep-messy curls look. They come down the stairs five minutes later, Thea in her leopard leggings and a pink hoodie Harry bought for her way before she was born, and the little girl’s hair is a lovely mess of curls sticking in all directions which makes her smile and get up from the table, walking towards them with her smile only getting wider and wider.

“Morning angel,” she presses a kiss to her hand, chuckling when Thea moves her face closer to Harry, pressing it in the crook of his neck. She doesn’t mind it. It makes her smile even more.

Harry walks into the kitchen, Y/N following close behind. “Where do you want us?” He asks, cuddling Thea into his chest.

“Put her in her highchair, please. I’ll warm up the food.”

“What are we having?”

“Boiled potatoes and carrots.”

“Excellent,” he whispers into Thea’s cheek, making her giggle and press her own nose into Harry’s neck. “Isn’t it, Teddy?”

“Hm,” the little girl hums.

“She agrees.”

“I sure hope she does.”

They share a look, and Thea is placed in her highchair, Harry immediately pulling a chair to sit in front of her. She places her pink bowl in front of Thea, and takes a step backwards, watching Harry stare at the food for a bit like he’s blessing it, or rather trying to remember the steps to feeding a child. It’s funny, how nervous he looks, as though he’s feeding Theadora for the first time, and she can’t help but let out a laugh, shrugging when he gives her a look.

“What,” he murmurs, a crease between his brows. “What’s that laugh for?”

She can’t help but shrug for the second time, a half-smile still present on her face. “You just look like you’re shitting bricks. It’s just food, relax,” she says, smiling at the nervous expression on his face.

“What if she chokes? I mean–” he looks down at the food again, prodding the potatoes around with the fork they use to feed Thea. “–these are big pieces. What if she chokes, Y/N? It’s– it’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” she says in between laughter. “Harry, you’re not going to feed her the whole potato or that big piece in her bowl,” she motions at the bowl. “Cut it into small pieces and then feed her.”

Harry, though, he’s not having it. The frown on his face gets bigger, and the crease in between his brows never leaves.

“Okay,” he ponders. “But what if she still chokes? Her throat– her mouth… everything is tiny. Are you sure we should be feeding her all this,” he purses his lips, looking down at the food.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Do you want me to feed her?”

“No,” he shakes his head, lips still turned downwards in a frown. “No, I can do it. I’m just– kinda scared, y’know…”

“I know, Harry, but it’ll be fine. She eats baby biscuits now–”

Harry looks up. “–She does? Since when?”

It’s full of worry and something so endearing, his question. She knows he’s thinking of all the time that’s been lost, all that time he’s been away and missed so many firsts in his daughter’s life.

She smiles, a broken-smile, and shrugs. “Not long. She’ll be fine, H.”

“If you say so…”

*  *  *

She wakes up to small fists in her face, slapping and stroking– alternating between the two.

She’s taken back, and is terrified, thinking she’s fallen asleep while Theadora was awake and that she left her on her own. It’s a scary thought, so she quickly straightens up on the sofa, only to find Harry wearing her apron, a kitchen towel on his shoulder as he watches Thea with a smile on his face.

“What’s going on?” She manages to choke out, voice still gruff from the sleep.

She doesn’t think she was out for that long, and a glance at her watch tells her the same.

Harry shrugs, coming to collect Thea since she keeps trying to throw punches at her. “You fell asleep. I unloaded the dishwasher and made something to eat. Sorry,” he smiles, all bashful.

“Sorry for falling asleep,” she says, rubbing the sleep off of her eyes. Thea calls for her, and she gets up from the sofa to take her in her arms. “You didn’t have to do all that, Harry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry shrugs, once again, and grabs an empty baby bottle from the floor. “I was hungry, anyway. I made crispy chicken and rice.”

A beat, and she bites her lip, not being able to hold it in any longer.

The tears start rolling down her face, and uncontrollable sob escaping in the middle of it, and it makes Harry look all alarmed, ready to attack. She wipes her eyes with one hand as the other holds Thea.

“It’s my favourite,” she murmurs. “Thank you,” she says, giving Harry a teary look.

Harry bites his lip, not knowing where to put his hands, so he just puts them on his hips. “Why– why are you crying?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay…”

“I’m gonna be on my period,” a sniff. “And I love chicken and rice. I just didn’t have enough time to make something I love recently… thank you, really.”

The look on his face becomes softer, eyes kinder, and he smiles. “Oh,” he says. “It’s okay, really. Hey, why don’t you sit back down, we’ll eat here.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He grins. “Don’t need to thank me. Come on, sit down.”

“Harry,” she calls behind him.

“Yes?” Comes a voice from the kitchen.

“Can you– dice some spring onions on mine?”

A laugh leaves Harry’s mouth. “Sure.”

“Thank you…”

They eat in silence, Thea on the floor, drawing yet-another masterpiece, and Harry lets out hums from time to time and agrees with her babblings whenever she finds it appropriate to interrupt their dinner. It’s almost like they have a secret language, Thea letting out quiet hums and babbles from time to time as Harry agrees, ‘very true, Teddy’, and ‘I think so, too, Teddy!’ She watches and listens while eating her chicken and rice, and lets out chuckles when Thea gets too into the agreements and yells, ‘hm, daddy’, though it sounds more like DADDEH!

They both finish at the same time, and she lets Harry spend a bit more time with Thea as she loads the dishwasher, and when she comes back to the living room, she finds them curled on the sofa, a book in Harry’s hand as he reads from it, though Thea seems to care more about her father’s rings than the book he’s holding.

It’s eight, and Harry’s phone goes off, and he goes into the kitchen to answer it as the both of them sit on the carpet, playing with blocks as Thea steals block after block from her pile. When he comes back, there’s a crease between his brows, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when nervous and worked up. If it were years ago, she would walk up to him, and offer to massage his back because ‘you’re so worked up’. But, it isn’t. So, instead, she watches from her seat on the floor as he walks over to them, and sits on the floor while Thea looks up only for a second before looking down at her blocks again.

After the fourth sigh, she decides that she’s had enough.

“What’s going on?” She asks, a block forgotten in her hand.

This makes him look up. “Nothing,” he murmurs, placing another block on one of Thea’s. “Was Jeff. Something about me on Twitter.”

When he mentions the ‘T’ word, she knows what he’s talking about. She’s almost certain she does, and she almost wants to let out a laugh, tell him she already knows, and that he shouldn’t worry too much about it because ‘aren’t you used to it?'

He looks up, a pink block in hand, and purses his lips like he knows. He does. “You’ve already seen it, haven’t you?” He says, almost accusing her of knowing before him. “You’ve seen it and you’re waiting for the right time to throw it in my face.”

A crease between her brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It’s defensive, and there’s an anger to her words. “I saw it. Couldn’t care less, though.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles– it’s a bitter one, a sarcasm-filled one. “Of course.”

“Harry, you’re being unreasonable. Of course I didn’t tell you– what was I supposed to tell you–”

He grunts. “–How do you know anyway?” He says, playing with the block in his hand.

“Does it matter?”

“It does. To me, it does– why are you so calm?”

“Why, though?” She looks up from Thea, careful not to raise her voice. Thea does, too, looking up at Harry with curiosity clear on her tiny face.

Harry, though, just shakes his head, and lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I’m just doing what they want me to do and it’s fucking up everything I come to know…”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. A strand of hair falls over his eye, and she so desperately wants to reach and send it back. “I’m just confused about a lot of things.”

“About work?”

“Mainly. Yes.”

“Okay… I’m sorry.”

He looks up. A tiny smile appears, then it’s gone. “You don’t have to apologise– it’s not your fault.”

Thea grunts when they keep talking to each other instead of her. She lets out a puff of air, and goes, “Daddy.”

“Oh my God,” Harry stands up too quickly, almost tripping and falling. He takes his phone out. “That’s– daddy.”

“Yeah,” She laughs.

“She’s said it before,” he murmurs, fiddling with the phone. He directs it in Thea’s face. “But never this clear before. She’s said ‘daddy’, right? Like– right?”

“Yes.”

“Teddy, say ‘daddy’.”

“Daddy.”

She laughs, he does, too. “Oh my God, Teddy, you’re getting so big!”

“She is!”

“Shh, I’m recording–”

*   *   *

The next day, she’s sipping from her tea as Alena tries to put Thea’s hair in two pigtails while Robin insist on mentioning the ‘H’ word.

She lets out a sigh, placing her tea on the coaster. “Can we stop talking about Harry and his girlfriend,” she murmurs.

Alena looks up from Thea’s hair, and Robin snorts.

Robin turns to Alena, shrugging. “I didn’t say ‘girlfriend’, she said it.”

“He mentioned it to me, said she was a friend of a friend– and that I would probably see it online or something,” she says, biting her cuticle.

“Y/N,” Robin sighs. “You mentioned the whole girlfriend thing, now you’re explaining what he said to you.”

“Because!”

“Because what?” Alena asks.

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel. It’s none of my business,” she shrugs, pursing her lips. “I’m just confused and– tired. Sleepy.”

“We literally did not say a thing,” Alena says, stroking the side of Thea’s face. She looks up at Alena, and turns around to copy her movements by stroking Alena’s face like she did to her. She smiles, then continues: “It’s normal to feel a pang of jealousy. Or something.”

Robin nods. “Or something.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

Frustration (Mikey Way x reader)

Kinktober day 6: Angry make-up sex 

Summary: After a friend posts a picture of (y/n) having fun with them, Mikey finds that he’s rather jealous - and his insecurity leads to an argument that can only be resolved one way. 

Word count: 1471

Warnings: silly little argument + conflicty stuff, dubious consent (like there’s no clear no, but also no clear yes - it’s just heavily suggested that our reader is fine with what’s happening) ,degradation 

“Hey, I’m home.”

When their boyfriend didn’t answer, (y/n) stuck their head around the door frame, concerned. He was sat at the kitchen table staring at his phone with a deep frown. “Mikes? Is something wrong?”

A muscle in the side of his face twitched slightly. “You went out wearing that?”

They glanced down at the very short shorts they had chosen to go out in. “Yeah. You saw me when I left… what is it, what’s up?”

He shook his head in disbelief, holding his phone out. “This.”

It showed the photo their friend had posted on Instagram earlier, one (y/n) had loved. There were eight of them crammed into a tiny booth seat at the pub, legs tangled over each others laps and arms around waists or shoulders. Everyone was dying with laughter and nobody was looking at the camera - it was the perfect semi-candid shot. “Okay, what about it?”

“You think it’s appropriate to go acting like that in public?”

They rolled their eyes at his tone. “We were out for a couple of drinks, not whoring ourselves out on street corners. And nothing I ordered had booze in, before you ask. I was just having fun. It’s hardly illegal.”

That didn’t seem to help his temper at all. “Okay, but why are you getting so… personal with people in public?”

“They aren’t just people, Mikey, they’re my friends. Why is this bothering you so much?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He huffed sarcastically. “Maybe it’s because you’re my partner. You’re taken. You shouldn’t be out showing yourself off like you’re single.”

Their eyes narrowed. “Showing myself off? I was hardly doing that. Hell, you were invited! If you were so concerned about me having fun with people without you then you should have come along.”

“What, so I could sit there and watch you drape yourself over a whole host of random people?”

“They’re my friends!” Their jaw dropped, furious that he was being so childish. “You know, some of us are capable of making friends with people without having to scrounge them off an older sibling.”  

Something in him snapped at that dig. “Say that again. I fucking dare you.”

(y/n) snorted. “What, you think you’re all big and scary because you’re six inches taller than me? Get fucking real.” 

Suddenly they found themselves pinned against the wall, Mikey’s leg shoved between theirs and a familiar hardness pressing against their stomach as he glared down at them. “You’re gonna pay for that.” He didn’t give them the chance to respond, slamming his lips into theirs and tugging firmly at the handful of hair he’d seized. Judging by the way they moaned against his actions, he was doing the right thing.

Breaking the kiss, he manhandled them through the doorway to their bedroom. “Strip. And kneel.” 

They scoffed, arms folded. “Make me.” 

This time when he kissed them, his hand kept such a tight grip on their throat that their mind was going fuzzy from lack of blood. When he finally released them he fixed them with a glare that made their hair stand on end. 

“Next time you say no to me, I won’t touch you at all. I’ll tie you up and make you watch as I get off all by myself while you’ve got no way of doing the same. Is that what you want?” 

(y/n) shook their head, and he smirked. “That’s what I thought. Now strip.” 

They’d barely finished removing the last item of clothing when he moved to stand directly in front of them and pushed them to the floor, also totally naked himself. “Open your mouth.” 

“No.” 

“You’re really pushing your luck today, aren’t you?” He seized their chin tightly, squeezing until their mouth hung open. Scanning their face for any sign of doubt or worry - there was none - he rammed his dick into their mouth before they could talk back, groaning as they gagged a little around his length. “That’s better, putting that pretty little mouth to good use.” 

His cock hit the back of their throat over and over, and he watched as tears mixed with the saliva that trailed from the corners of their mouth. The sounds he was making were almost unholy, and despite the force he was using them with, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel their own pleasure building. They’d never been the most vanilla of couples, but this was certainly the roughest Mikey had been with them in a while. And they were loving it.

Both hands on the back of their head, he held them down so their nose brushed his pubes, ecstasy flooding through him as their warm, wet cheeks fluttered around him. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you? You belong to me. You can go out looking like a common slut for all the world to see, but only I get to see you like this. Like the needy little bitch you are.”

He let them go, listening to their choked gasps as they got used to being able to breathe properly again. It took very little effort to drag them onto the bed, spreading their legs so he could kneel between them and press himself against their entrance. They keened softly, putty in his hands as he pinned their wrists above their head.

“You keep your hands to yourself, and maybe I’ll give you what you clearly want. Huh? No touching. If you move those hands, I won’t let you cum for the next week.”

They nodded and he let go, smiling as they kept their hands in place. “So good, doing as you’re told.” Gripping their hips harshly he thrust into them, straight away moving at a punishing pace and relishing in the cracked moans his movements were pulling from their throat. He fucked them relentlessly, fingers digging into their soft skin as he dipped his head to sink his teeth into their chest.

They arched against him, still just about keeping their hands away as they struggled to speak. “I - shit, so close. Need you.”

He slowed for a second, resting his forehead against theirs as they whimpered. “Now, do you think you deserve to cum? Do you think you’ve been good enough?” 

“Please. Fuck, I can’t… please.” They became even more incoherent as he slid a hand between them, pressing his fingers against them in a way that made them squirm. “Oh God, Mikey!”

The way they cried his name so reverently was more than enough to convince him, and he started thrusting again, somehow managing to go even deeper than before. It was only a matter of moments before they were tightening around him, muscles spasming as their orgasm left them boneless.

 “Fuck, that’s it.”

Pulling out as they came down from their high, Mikey only needed to jerk himself a few times before spilling across their stomach with a groan, vaguely aware of them stroking his shoulders encouragingly as his vision greyed out. He collapsed next to them, breathing raggedly as they ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Neither of them said a word. After a couple of minutes they got up, already walking slightly stiffly as they headed for the en suite, cleaning up the mess he’d made. When they were done, they grabbed his water bottle and brought it over as a kind of peace offering, snuggling back under the covers. He took a drink and sighed, guilt sinking into his chest as he saw the beginnings of the bruises already littered across their delicate skin. 

“I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to start a fight over.” 

(y/n) shrugged. “I mean yeah, it was. But I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said some of the things that I did. I gotta say though, I really like your method of conflict resolution.” 

“It wasn’t too much, was it? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?” 

“You want me to be honest? Fine. Michael James Way, I think that was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” 

He snorted, tucking an arm around their waist. “Glad to hear it. I mean it though. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I... I just can’t help but think that you’d be happier with someone who wasn’t me. Someone more sociable, more of a party animal. Someone who isn’t worse at socialising than a nerdy seventh grader.” 

“Hey, no.” They propped themself up on an elbow so they were looking down at him. “No way. You’re the love of my life, and I need you to start believing that. Nobody compares to you. I don’t wanna imagine what my life would be like without you in it.” 

He pulled them down again for a kiss. “God, I love you so fucking much.” 

“And I fucking love you, Mikey fucking Way. No matter how much of an idiot you are.” 

[alessandradamiano]

There were very few people who could not only read all three sisters on their tells, but also call them out on them. All three had been raised to easily take to a mask, to hide their true emotions. And though Francesca had chosen not to join the Serpents, she still had that training engrained in her. But Alessandra could see through her tells, just as both her sisters could easily see through hers. They all knew each other so well. And so she knew her sister was bothered by the soon to be engagement and she needed to know why.

"Eight years." Alessandra let that knowledge sit on her, felt the full weight of it. Her sister had known Donovan for eight years and he was a complete stranger to her. Why had he not said something? Surely he was no fool, three years ago when he learned of her and the agreement he would have known she was Francesca's sister. Their last names alone would have given them away. And he had said nothing. "Would you tell me if it were romantic?" Alessandra asked, her voice sharper as she cut to the chase. "I mean it, Fran. I don't care what the consequences were, I'd end it this very second if you two, or if even only you, had romantic feelings or it was anything more. I'd never do that to you, I'd never forgive myself for marrying someone you loved." She didn't want Donovan, consequences be damned if her sister had feelings for him. Her sisters were some of the only people she truly cared for in this world.

As her sister said her name, Alessandra looked up and met her sister's gaze. It was hard to explain to her sister, it was harder to explain to herself. "It's my duty though." She whispered to Francesca. "I'll have my own dreams and happiness... it will just be outside my marriage. Through you and Gi... and through my work... other things." She tried to defend it. But even her work had still been the work of her father. He had wanted her to become a nurse or doctor, to lend her skills as a medic within the Serpents organization once she was completed with school. All her life Alessandra had been raised to do as her parents wanted, to do as was expected of her. And all her life she had done just that, she'd always done her duty and to play the role that had been laid out for her. "Because the deal has to be honored, Fran. I can't pull out now simply because it is becoming real. I agreed withe Papá arranged. I agreed when he died that we would still honor the agreement. I agreed three years ago when Donovan became leader and he reached out for the first and last time." Alessandra explained. "Just because it is now happening, I can't pull out of the agreement, Fran. It would make us look weak. Make it seem that no Serpent will ever honor their word. And we need the alliance, this war is ramping up and things will get far worse." It was a harsh world she lived in, but their world was never easy. "We will not be the first arranged marriage. We won't even be the first within the Serpents. How many other marriages do you think weren't for some advantageous reason?" She squeezed her sister's hand, her eyes sad. "I told him I wanted to try to be partners at least, I don't want us to fight and be at enemies just because we are both forced into this. He agreed at least, he said he'd be willing to give whatever we wanted a chance. And that's the best I can hope for Fran." Her voice turned quieter and sadness dripped in more. "I may never know love, Fran. But at least I won't ever know heartbreak." A sad, ironic smile quirked her lips up slightly. Her sister's touch soothed her and Alessandra closed her eyes, leaning into the touch of her older sister.

Francesca took another sip of her drink, using the glass like a shield as Alessandra cut straight to the heart of the matter. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation—especially not with her little sister. Francesca felt like an outsider, always on the periphery of the world Alessandra and Giada inhabited, the one shaped by their father’s allegiance to the Serpents. That divide had always been clear, and it was why she had tried so hard to avoid this discussion. But Alessandra wasn’t letting it go.

“I do know him,” Francesca admitted, setting the glass down and meeting her sister’s gaze. “We met about eight years ago when I was covering a robbery story.” She hesitated, her mind flashing back to the strange, unexpected, random chance meeting at Addicted to the Bean after the incident. Alessandra didn’t need all the details, though, and Francesca blushed, quickly dismissing her sister’s unspoken assumption. “No, we’re not romantically involved. Not at all! He’s just… a really good friend. Honestly, my best friend. He’s been there for me through a lot, and I guess I’m just surprised he never mentioned this arrangement.” Her fingers idly swirled the last of her drink as she spoke, her voice softening with every word. Memories of Donovan flooded back—his kindness, his resilience, and the quiet pain he carried. Francesca smiled faintly, but it was tinged with sadness. A part of her was relieved that Alessandra saw the good in him, but another part felt hollow. Donovan was the kind of man who deserved love, trust, and the freedom to choose his future. This forced marriage? It wasn’t what he had ever described when they spoke about what he wanted in life.

“Alessandra,” Francesca began quietly, her voice steady but laced with an ache she couldn’t hide. “I hate that you’ve been prepared for this, conditioned to think you don’t have the right to your own dreams or happiness. And I hate even more that you’ve accepted it like it’s inevitable.” She reached across the table, taking Alessandra’s hands in hers, searching her sister’s face for any sign of doubt. The words that spilled out of her mouth were heavier than she expected, full of anger and pain she couldn’t hold back. “Why do you have to do this?” Francesca asked, her voice low but trembling. “It’s… it’s bullshit.” The curse slipped out before she could stop it, but she didn’t care. “You can’t tell me you’re okay with this—living with someone you don’t even care about, tying your life to someone for the sake of an alliance. Do you really think this arrangement is going to make either of you happy? Because it won’t. It’s not fair to you, or to him.” Her grip on Alessandra’s hands tightened as her voice softened. “You deserve more than this. Both of you do. And I just—I don’t understand why you’re so willing to throw your life away for something that doesn’t even guarantee anyone’s happiness.” She reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from Alessandra’s face.

[oops-all-knuxadow]

Shadow is tied to tje chaos emeralds right? Cause he was made with one? Well my hc is that he has a small amount of there energy so when master emerald which controls the chaos emeralds decides they all need an impromptu meeting on angel island shadow get warp-Kidnapped along with them.

Or maybe knuckles just decides to practice preventative medicine and gaurds the chaos emeralds as well which means shadow is along for the ride too whether he wants to or not.

I dont know if u want this but its urs now

SL7

When I saw this in my inbox, I sat down and wrote for over an hour to get this out because I L O V E D this idea. Thank you so much for this, genuinely.

Shadow was intimately familiar with chaos control. He knew the feeling of his body becoming displaced, the instantaneous snap of movement as he was relocated, the split-second presence in a void between reality that made him feel weightless, and he knew it well.

What had just happened, was not chaos control.

It felt like someone had gripped his very soul and yanked it into the in-between. Shadow physically felt the will of another person being forced upon the atoms constituting his body, moving him against nature's rhythm to reappear somewhere else. On his end, there was absolutely no control in the chaos.

All the warning he'd received was a tightness in his chest. His steps faltered, helpless to watch Rouge turn around and regard him with concern right before he vanished. Before his heart even had the chance to skip, he was sitting on top of the Master Emerald, surrounded by all seven of its progeny gems and dizzy with confusion.

"...W-what," he stammered, catching his breath, "what the hell!?"

"...Shadow??"

--

Knuckles took a deep breath and pressed his palms against the Master Emerald, closing his eyes in concentration. He tuned in to the energy radiating from the jewel, honing it, willing it to his needs.

After several moments, he got the results he wanted; using the Master Emerald allowed him to find the seven chaos emeralds scattered around the earth. He could feel their energies, and didn't fight the triumphant grin spreading over his muzzle.

It was a skill the former Guardians had been able to master, but they hadn't been able to teach Knuckles the technique before being wiped out. Finally, after years of meditation and training, he'd learned to hone it himself. The echidna knew his ancestors would be proud, were they here to witness his feat.

Tails would be proud, too. Though the fox kit had made a chaos emerald tracker of his own, its range was extremely limited. The team didn't often find the emeralds until the fate of the planet had gotten down to the wire, and frankly Knuckles was sick of scrambling all around the globe to gather them up again.

This was definitely the edge they needed to keep a leg-up on Eggman and any future threats.

"Okay, Knuckles," he spoke aloud, widening his stance and pressing a little more insistently against the Master Emerald, "time for the real test. You found the emeralds, now bring 'em here..."

He furrowed his brow, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, and willed the gems to appear before him. He could feel all eight pulses of energy, and envisioned his hand reaching out to grab them up and draw them towards himself.

"Come to me," Knuckles commanded, nearly overwhelmed by the surge of power he was interacting with. "C'mon...come to me!"

He felt his mind wrap around the emeralds, gripping tight, and pulled.

Energy swirled around him, reaching a blinding crescendo that he could see even behind closed eyes. The master emerald glowed bright enough to rival the summer sun, nearly overwhelming him.

Then, in another moment, it was done. As if repelled, Knuckles stumbled backwards from the giant jewel and rubbed his eyes, blinking up at the top of it to see what he'd done.

The euphoria of success left just as soon as it arrived as he stared at all the chaos emeralds, replaced with utter confusion as he watched Shadow clutch his chest and look around in a panic.

"W-what..." The hedgehog stammered, "what the hell!?"

"...Shadow??" Knuckles called. It was only then that the echidna realized he had drawn eight sources of chaos energy to him. There were only seven chaos emeralds.

Red eyes snapped to him. Knuckles watched his panic relax into confusion, the grip on his chest loosening.

"Knuckles," he replied. "What's going on? I was - I teleported here. Do you know why?"

The echidna scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to bring Shadow here, much less scare his friend the way he had.

"Uh, I think I do. Come down here, I'll explain what happened."

Shadow obeyed, shuffling to the edge of the emerald and allowing himself to drop to the floor of the altar. Knuckles watched the hybrid stumble and reached out to steady him, and as they collided, he was blown away by the amount of raw chaos energy dwelling within him.

Whatever he'd done to attune himself to the emeralds ended up connecting to Shadow, as well. The echidna knew that he was artificially created on the ARK with the aid of chaos energy, but he hadn't realized just how much of it made up the man in his arms. It was so strong, it felt like the hedgehog was a sentient emerald, himself.

"Oh..." Was all Knuckles had managed to say, violet eyes wide in awe. "Shadow, you..."

After getting a better grasp of his bearings, the hedgehog stood tall, and regarded him warily. Clearly the trip here had done an unexpected number on him, which made Knuckles swallow thickly in guilt.

"I, what?" He asked. "Fill me in, Guardian, I need to understand why I was pulled into some bastardization of a chaos control against my will."

Knuckles grimaced. "Yeah...that's probably not the last time that's gonna happen."

"What!?"

Knuckles clutched the hedgehog by his shoulders. "Calm down! First thing's first; are you okay?"

Shadow blinked, mouth opening to snap at him about his misplaced concern, but clicked it shut again and decided to give it real thought. Some of the tension vanished from his body - a sign of progress.

"My chest hurts. Like a hand gripped my heart and squeezed it like a bagpipe."

"Damn, that sounds painful. I'm sorry."

The hybrid shook his head. "It will fade. All I want is an explanation, Knuckles. Please."

The Guardian nodded. He gestured for Shadow to take a seat, and joined him a moment later.

"Okay. This is a bit of a long story, so, here goes..."

[seasonofthewicth]

Rowaelin Month - Day 9

prompt: co-hosts with chemistry

extras: podcaster!rowaelin, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff!

word count: 2k

--

The podcast had originally been Lysandra’s idea.

She had deemed their regular conversations dissecting each of their dating lives too entertaining to keep to themselves and so it had begun. It hadn’t been very successful and they had only managed to wrangle a small number of subscribers, mostly consisting of their friends and reluctant family members. They’d had fun, but when Lysandra moved to the Southern Continent they hadn’t bothered to keep it up.

Then Aelin got drunk with Fenrys and his new roommate Rowan.

Her drunken self had thought it a fabulous idea to whip out her phone and hit record when Fenrys had begun to weave his story of the beautiful Asterin and her ruthless rejection, Rowan chipping in with quips that always made her cheeks feel a little warmer. That and the sparkle in his green eyes each time he looked at her.

She’d been intrigued by Rowan on day one. He was everything Aelin felt herself drawn to in one big package. Tall, handsome, tattoos, wicked sense of humour, didn’t take any shit, constantly gave her shit. She was charmed.

Until the podcast had taken off.

The inebriated episode featuring Fenrys and Rowan had landed her with a few thousand subscribers. And she had wanted to continue.

Fenrys had rejected her outright, claiming he didn’t need any more public humiliation, the Asterin story had been enough and she understood, but Rowan…

She’s not sure why she even asked Rowan. They weren’t friends, the episode they’d recorded had been the first night they met and they hadn’t spoken since but she’d laid the offer on the table anyway. Despite the fact that hearing all about Rowan Whitethorn’s dating exploits made her stomach twist.

What she knew of Rowan had told her he’d say no too. He hadn’t given her the impression of being particularly easy going, or that spending time with her in the absence of Fenrys would have been something he would consider. In fact, she’d wondered if he’d thought her desire to chat about something as frivolous as dating would be somewhat shallow or childish.

But then he’d said yes.

And so began their tradition. Every Thursday after his final class of the day and Aelin gets home from her office, she uncorks a bottle of wine and makes dinner. Rowan turns up at eight pm sharp each week, armed with a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake and his lilting and charming accent. They set themselves up at the desk in Aelin’s spare bedroom, each with a set of headphones and a microphone and they talk.

That started eight months ago.

Now they have hundreds of thousands of listeners, people who for some unknown reason like to listen to Aelin and Rowan. Aelin doesn’t get it, but here they are.

Aelin tucks her feet under her thighs and rests the arm holding her wine glass along the back of the sofa. They’ve just finished this week’s episode and she’s not ready for Rowan to leave just yet. He turns to her at the motion, a brow cocked in questioning. He looks good, very good.

The light from her TV highlights the cut of his jaw and plays off the silver strands of his hair, flopping onto his forehead. The green of his henley perfectly displays his golden skin and she’s desperately searching for glances of the swirls of ink that peek out of his neckline each time he shifts.

She thought that by spending more time with him her crush would fade. Except now she definitely has a thing for someone who has turned into one of her best friends.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, so aware by now of her moods. He knows when to wait and when to push her, when to joke and when to keep it real.

Aelin shrugs and the motion dislodges her neckline from her shoulder to part way down her arm. Rowan’s eyes dart down tracking the motion but flash back to hers once she speaks.

“I’m thinking about where we go next,” she says slowly. “I don’t know about you but I’m not dating very much recently and I wonder if I’m running out of funny dating stories.”

Rowan’s lips twitch and she uses the time before he speaks to desperately wonder what’s going on in his head. Then he moves his hand to her knee, his touch a comfort and a thrill, and her mind can only focus on that. Can only focus on how good it feels for him to touch her. She doesn’t have the capacity to worry where his head is at when his hands are on her.

“It’s not just you,” he says, on the same wavelength as her as always. “I don’t find myself on many dates anymore.”

He says it without even a whisper of shame, like he’s confident in why that is.

“I can’t tell if I’m thinking too much about the podcast,” she admits, “or if I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

He’s silent, which she usually uses as her prompt to continue, but his hand stays on her knee.

“I have an idea,” she says, shocked again as his eyes meet hers. “It won’t last forever, but I think it could give us a few episodes at least. We turn to other people. We get listeners to share their experiences, their horror stories, their life lessons, their advice, their failures. We give our comments, we compare them, we’re funny. I think it could work.”

She’s so nervous for his thoughts, his opinions matter to her, she wants his approval.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he says as a soft smile creeps onto his lips, tugging up his cheek and she wants to press her lips right there. “We can get people to submit their best stories, review them, add our own additions and commentary and we’re good for a while.”

He pauses, as though there’s more he wants to say. His hand on her knee squeezes and she craves more of his touch, wants his hand to slide higher, wants his fingers to entwine with hers.

Then he says, “I have an idea for an episode.”

She cocks her brow but he shakes his head.

“I need to think it through some more but I’ll let you know as soon as I have a more solid idea.”

It works and she’s relieved her lack of desire to date anyone who isn’t six foot four, silver haired and named Rowan Whitethorn hasn’t needed any expansion and hasn’t so far caused any major problems. Apart from the fact she finds herself getting lost when he talks, unable to respond right away because she’s too busy staring at his lips, his hands, his everything as he speaks.

She’s sure he’s probably noticed but he kindly hasn’t commented.

The idea to get content from their listeners leads her down a path she’s somewhat shocked to realise exists. She’s been trawling twitter to find their content and interacting with a lot more of their listeners and it’s led her to a small corner of twitter dedicated to her and Rowan.

She scrolls and scrolls through tweets that are convinced she and Rowan are either married, fucking or in love. Or if not yet already, they need to be. Aelin doesn’t disagree necessarily, but it’s weird to know people are thinking that, let alone tweeting it.

@/crochanqueen: Aelin’s laugh every time Rowan says something slightly amusing…. girl you’ve got it bad. He’s not that funny.

Gods, she hopes Rowan hasn’t seen these tweets. She needs to watch when she laughs.

“Next submission,” Rowan says, leaning forwards and speaking into his mic. He’s in his usual chair across from her and she has almost unlimited access to the sight of him in all his glory. No wonder it’s hard to concentrate when they record. “This guy says hi, I’ve got it bad for my best friend.”

Aelin swallows. She definitely needs to watch herself for this one.

“A tale as old as time,” she says with a breezy laugh.

“Right,” Rowan says, a tightness to his voice that wasn’t there before, before he turns back to his phone to continue reading. “We’ve known each other for a while now and we spend a lot of time together just the two of us and it’s as easy as breathing. We get along incredibly well, she makes me laugh and she makes me smile. She brightens my day.”

“Gods, this is so sweet,” she coos and Rowan gives her a tight smile. Okay, she’ll let him finish.

“She’s my best friend,” Rowan continues and Aelin bites her lip. “I want more but I don’t want to ruin what we have if she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Hm,” she says, twisting her hands on the table in front of her. She has to manage this one carefully, so as not to give too much away. “Is there any indication of whether she feels the same way?”

Rowan glances back to his phone. “He says; there are moments where I think she feels the same, there are moments where I think I could press my lips to hers and she’d kiss me back. There are moments she looks at me and it looks as though it would be impossible for her not to feel the way I do.”

“She sounds like a lucky girl,” Aelin says almost wistfully.

“You think?” Rowan asks, and she’s not sure his question makes sense.

“Don’t you?” she asks. “If they have these moments, moments where he could kiss her and she’d kiss him back, the moments where they get lost in each other's eyes, I don’t think those things can be made up.”

She ignores the way she always feels as though she catches herself in these moments with Rowan. She ignores them and plows straight on through.

“If he’s having these thoughts enough that they feel like a moment, they probably are.”

“Damn, Aelin.” Rowan smiles across the table. “Any advice for the poor guy?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” she says smoothly, “he has to tell her how he feels. Don’t waste any more time, if you’re reading her this way and she’s your best friend I think there’s very little chance you’ve got this wrong. If you’re listening to this,” she says leaning forwards so her voice is clear in the recording, “get the girl. Take a chance, tell her how you feel. Start small, ask her to go on a date.”

Rowan nods, the movement a sharp jerk but a smile plays on his lips. He looks up to her, his eyes meeting hers.

“Alright, Aelin. Go out with me. A date.”

She laughs, a bright sound, not allowing herself to jump to conclusions. “Is that what it says?”

His eyes flick back to his phone before he locks it and slides it onto the table. “It doesn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s very confused now. Is he playing with her? Has he noticed the way she feels? Surely Rowan isn’t so cruel to mock her like this.

“There’s no submission, it’s me, it’s you. Go out with me Aelin?”

Her mouth drops open.

“Go out with you? You like me?”

She’s stunned okay? Cut her a little slack.

He laughs, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “This was quite possibly not my best idea,” he says. “To go about it like this. I thought it would have worked well.”

“You’re serious?” she says, a smile creeping into her voice.

“As a heart attack.”

She pulls her headset off, needing to feel this moment just the two of them. Rowan does the same, vulnerability shining in his gorgeous, green eyes.

“Rowan,” she breathes. “I’ve been into you since day one. I thought there was no way you were interested in me.”

She stands, rising from her chair and almost floating over to him until she stands between his legs. She gently rests a hand on his shoulder as she leans down. His hands come up to her waist and pull her onto his lap.

She settles with a smile as she reaches up to cup his cheek in her palm.

“I’ll edit this out tomorrow,” is all she says before she closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, sealing it with a kiss.

[jjmaybud]

bring her home to dad | rafe cameron

summary: BJ’s every parent’s nightmare and rafe brings her home to ward.

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!oc, platonic!sarah cameron x fem!oc, platonic!wheezie cameron x fem!oc.

word count: 5.17k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff, angst, ward cameron.

author’s note: i’ve had this idea for a while and it was originally going to be a reader, but i have a lot of ideas for this oc and rafe that may or may not be a coherent story. i don’t know, we’ll see where it goes. this is an au where there isn’t any treasure hunt but like rafe still does coke and dropped out of college and sarah and john b end up dating. no season 2 spoilers! Also, the house they use in the show for Tanneyhill (it’s real name is Lowndes Grove) is actually so beautiful omg you can rent it for weddings!

BJ Bentley was in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s truck on her way to his house for the first time. Though she’d been in a relationship with Rafe Cameron for the past few months, she understood the reservation he had to take her to meet his father. The dark tattoos all along her sun kissed skin and the style of her clothes definitely scared every one of her partner’s parents. It was especially worse when their parents were hard on them, and they tried everything to live up to their expectations. There were times when someone she was interested in brought her home just to scare their parents when they weren’t interested in her as well. It wasn’t like that with Rafe. For one, he was completely freaking out in the driver’s seat next to her as he drove to his house. And two, he told her from the beginning that he had to be in love with her to bring her home to Ward Cameron.

Well, he was in love with her. And she loved him, too. That’s why she was completely calm in the passenger seat as she waited patiently to pull up to the historic house. Rafe’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he was hyper aware of the world around him. Quick hits on the brake and too sharp of turns were a clear indication of his nervousness. BJ reached across the center console to take hold of his right hand. He gave it up to her with little hesitation, and she intertwined their fingers while bringing the back of his hand to her lips. The soft kiss released a bit of tension in his shoulders.

“We don’t have to do this today,” she said against his hand. He immediately shook his head at the idea.

He said, “No, I already told him you were coming today. He’s got Rose making her special meatloaf for the occasion.”

BJ placed their hands down on the console and smiled.

“I love meatloaf.”

He nodded, his mind still somewhere else, and stated, “I know. I told her.”

Rafe stopped the truck at a stop sign. With no one behind them, BJ reached her free hand up to his cheek and turned his head towards her, forcing him to meet her eyes. She smiled softly when he leaned into the palm of her hand.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve dealt with plenty of parental disappointment. He might be a little harder on you, but he’ll let it go eventually.”

He smiled and kissed the palm of her hand before turning back to the road. As he pulled forward from the stop sign, she placed her outreached hand on his forearm to run her fingers up and down the prominent vein.

He said, “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

BJ’s hand stilled at his words, and she stared at the side of his face as she tried to think of any other reason he’d be so nervous.

“I don’t want him to scare you off,” he added as he avoided meeting her eye.

Her lip jutted out as she cooed, “Aw, Honey Bunch,” his eyes rolled and lip turned up at the pet name, “you don’t have to worry about him scaring me off. You’ve had plenty of chances to do that.”

Rafe laughed mockingly and reached over to squeeze her thigh. She laughed loudly as she tried to pull his hand off of her. When she managed to wrench his hand away from her, she reached over and poked his side which only resulted in his hand gripping her thigh again.

“Rafe Cameron,” she said in a firm tone, making him laugh. “If you don’t stop, I will knock you the fuck out.”

He didn’t stop. It took him almost side swiping someone’s car for him to let go of her and return his hand to the steering wheel.

“That’s what I thought,” BJ quipped but screeched and lifted her leg away from him as he pretended to reach for her thigh again.

The rest of the ride was silent aside from the music playing from the radio. Eventually, the sound of the turn signal interrupted the melodies of the song as they waited for the car in the other lane to pass to turn left into Tanneyhill. Trees blocked the view of the house from the gate, but she could see peaks of a white house with many windows. As they drove up the driveway and passed the trees, she could see the beautiful house in it’s full glory. The house itself was beautiful on it’s own, but the surrounding view made it stunning. She could see the expanse of the water over to the left while an expansive yard of trees veered to the right.

“Home sweet home,” Rafe muttered as he pulled into a parking spot next to someone’s car. He turned the engine off and unbuckled his seat belt but didn’t make a move to get out. BJ unbuckled her own seat belt and waited. She watched as he took a couple of deep breaths before turning to meet her eye. Her lips turned up in an encouraging smile. She leaned forward over the console enticing him to do the same. Their lips met in a soft peck and met a few times more before pulling away for good.

The couple got out of the truck at the same time and met at the back. BJ let Rafe stair up at the house before reaching her hand out for him to hold. He huffed a heavy sigh before taking her hand in his. On their way to the front door, BJ stopped walking. If he didn’t have her hand in his, he probably would have kept going. He stopped, their hands extended, and watched her eyes widen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes moved from the house to him, and she said, “I’m going to meet Wheezie!”

Rafe released a relieved sigh as he let his head fall back with his eyes closed. The hat on his head nearly fell off as it’s bill hit the back of his neck. BJ laughed as she stepped closer to her.

“Don’t do that to me,” Rafe mumbled as he let her pull him along. When they got closer to his front door, he took the lead. He led her past the front room and into the main part of the house. They took a few turns before reaching a decent sized kitchen. As an old house meant to be preserved, it lacked the open floor plan most modern day houses choose to do. While some rooms were spacious, it felt very choppy as they moved through the house. Even the kitchen was cut off from the dining area. The only person in the kitchen was a blonde woman who was definitely not Sarah Cameron or Wheezie.

“Oh, hello!” The woman greeted as she worked on cleaning off the counters. She stopped at the sight of them and tossed the washcloth into the sink. Her eyes widened once she got a better look at the girl standing next to Rafe, but BJ took it in stride as she let go of Rafe’s hand to go shake hers.

Rafe spoke up from behind BJ, “Rose, this is BJ. BJ, this is my stepmom, Rose.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Rose. I heard you’re making meatloaf! It already smells amazing,” BJ stated as she shook the woman’s hand. She watched Rose take in the tattoos on the back of her hand and the chain hanging on one side of her skirt, but she pretended not to notice as Rose fixed a genuine smile on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, too! Rafe mentioned meatloaf was your favorite, so Ward asked me to make my special recipe.”

“Is there anything Rafe and I can do to help?” BJ offered. Rafe started to speak from behind her, but Rose beat him to it.

“Actually, the table still needs to be set, if you don’t mind?”

BJ shook her head and said, “Not at all.” She turned around to Rafe. “You know how to set the table, right?”

Rafe huffed and nodded his head. He turned to the left and led her into the dining room where a long, rectangular table that seats eight people took up one side of the room and a smaller, circular table that seats four people took up the other. He stepped over to the china cabinet and opened both of the doors.

“I can start with the glasses while you get the plates?” Rafe suggested as he looked at her. She nodded and walked over to him. He pointed at a specific set of plates before grabbing the glasses on the higher shelf. A place mat was already placed in front of each seat that was to be used. BJ started on one side as Rafe started on the other. They met at the head of the table, and BJ stared up at Rafe as he refused to move out of the way.

She wasn’t much shorter than him normally, but she was almost nose to nose to him with her boots on. The amused smile on his lips and the quirk of his eyebrow tempted her to do something about him being in her way. With a playful tint in the corner of her eye, she stood on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his lips. His hand found her hip as their kiss lasted longer than necessary. When she pulled away and fell back flat on her feet, Rafe hummed and nodded his head. He patted her hip and stepped out of her way.

“You may pass,” he said, making BJ laugh. The rest of her task went without fail before the two of them placed the silverware out: BJ was in charge of the spoons while Rafe put out the forks and knives. The sound of a man’s voice interrupted the peaceful silence that laid over the air.

“Alright, I got the ice and another bottle just in case. I saw Rafe’s truck outside. Have you already met her?” The man stated as the couple saw him approach the island that Rose was standing next to.

Rose nodded, walked towards her husband, and said, “Yes, I did. They’re setting the table now.”

Ward tried to turn to look at where they were standing, but Rose grabbed the front of his blazer and pretended to fix it while she whispered to him. BJ puffed out a silent laugh as she looked at Rafe.

She whispered, “Very subtle.”

Rafe only had the energy to chuckle once as he watched the two in the kitchen. BJ studied the couple and watched Ward’s facial expressions to gauge his reaction. She noticed the exact moment Rose told him about her...appearance. His head tilted towards his wife in a quick motion to look in her eyes. Rose scolded him swiftly, and Ward fixed his face into a stoic expression. BJ could feel her boyfriend tense from beside her as she watched Ward look to the ground and nod at whatever his wife said.

BJ took the lead, grabbed Rafe’s hand, and pulled him into the kitchen. Rafe tugged on her hand to keep her from intruding on his dad and stepmom’s conversation, but BJ went through this too many times to know it was easier to rip the bandage off right away.

“Hi, you must be Ward! I’m BJ Bentley,” she introduced herself, extending her hand once again. Though he was warned, Rafe’s father appeared to still be surprised at the sight of her. He took it in stride regardless. His eyebrows shot up in delight and a charming smile crossed his face as he reached his own hand out.

Ward greeted, “Ah, nice to meet you, BJ. I have to say I was surprised to hear Rafe had a girlfriend, let alone that he was bringing her home to meet us.”

“Dad,” Rafe said as Rose called her husband’s name in warning.

“Honestly, I was surprised, too,” BJ confessed. “Didn’t think Rafe was the girlfriend type.”

The timer on the oven went off to interrupt the tense conversation. Rose hurried around the island to pull the door open. She used a cooking thermometer to check the temperature inside the meatloaf.

“It’s done. Rafe, can you go upstairs to get your sisters?” Rose asked.

Rafe made sure BJ was okay before reluctantly heading out of the kitchen to the stairs she’d seen on the way inside. She watched him until he disappeared out of the room and turned back to his parents. The brunette tucked her hair behind her ear as she caught Ward staring at the tattoos on her thighs sticking out under her skirt with a disapproving purse of his lips. She turned to Rose, the safer of the two, and offered her help.

“I can take the potatoes to the table if you’d like,” BJ offered as Rose sliced into the meatloaf and placed it onto a large plate. The potatoes were on a similar plate cut into chunks and seasoned so well that BJ’s stomach grumbled at the smell.

Rose smiled and said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

BJ returned the smile and grabbed the plate. Once she reached the table, she placed the potatoes in the center with enough room for the meatloaf. Ward followed her into the room and motioned to the side of the table with only two seats set.

“Rafe sits on this side next to me. Feel free to sit next to him,” Ward said. BJ nodded and stepped around Ward; she noticed then they were about the same height. Since Ward hadn’t pulled his chair out, BJ thought it best to wait to be seated. Her mouth didn’t agree to the plan.

“Your home is very beautiful. It has a lot of history behind it, right?” She inquired as Rose brought in the meatloaf before returning to the kitchen, probably for the drinks.

Ward’s head tilted in interest as he answered, “That’s right. People don’t usually know that.”

“I did a paper on Denmark Tanney in college. As you must know, he was the only person to survive the wreck of the Royal Merchant.”

A light lit up behind Ward’s eyes at the mention of the Royal Merchant. She mentioned offhandedly one day while hanging out with Rafe that she did a paper on the man who built his house after he told her he lived in Tanneyhill. He told her how much his dad loved the house and its history, so she knew she could use that to get on Ward’s good side. She wasn’t worried about whether the Cameron’s liked her, especially not Ward, but she wanted there to be mutual respect between them. From what Rafe has said about his father, she knew she would never like him. But as Rafe’s father, she had a level of respect for him that she wanted to be returned. No matter how the man treated him, Rafe loved Ward and looked up to him. She had to respect that.

“Of course,” Ward replied, his words more genuine than the other times he’s spoken. “It’s what drew me to the house in the first place. Tell me did your research take you to the information about the gold he was able to get off of the Royal Merchant?”

Rose brought in a pitcher of iced tea as well as a cup of scotch on the rocks for Ward. She started to pour a glass of tea for herself as she listened to their conversation.

“Yes, and no one has ever been able to find it. He had letters to his son that a lot of people have picked apart trying to find out where he hid it, but no one’s figured it out.”

“Ugh, dad, please tell me you haven’t bored BJ with your stories about the Royal Merchant,” Sarah Cameron stated as she came into the kitchen. She sent BJ a smile and a wink as she walked to her seat, leaving the middle one between her and Rose empty. Rafe followed in shortly after.

Ward laughed as he shook his head. “Of course not, Sarah. BJ brought it up.”

Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise and put her hands up in surrender. Rafe came to stand next to his girlfriend. Ward and Rose looked at him expectantly.

“Wheezie’s on her way down,” he stated before reaching over to pull out BJ’s seat. She smiled at the gesture as she stepped out of the way.

“Wow, Rafe has manners?” Sarah asked, sarcasm dripping from her words as she sat down. Rafe glared at his sister as BJ stepped in front of the seat. He pushed in her seat as she sat down. She mumbled her gratitude as he sat down next to her. Rose and Ward sat down after the kids, and Rafe took it upon himself to pour himself a glass of iced tea. He offered the pitcher to BJ, and she took it graciously.

The sound of loud steps interrupted the short silence, and a young, teenage girl wearing a bright pink tutu and a sequined, long sleeve shirt. BJ’s eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to Rafe as she pressed her lips together to contain her laugh. Rafe placed his elbow on the table and covered his mouth to hide his smile. From what Rafe told her about his youngest sister, the tutu was out of character for her.

Sarah gasped and said, “Love the tutu, Wheeze.”

“Wheezie, what are you wearing?” Rose asked as the girl sat down next to her. BJ turned back to watch the scene unfold in front of her. Wheezie smiled at her before turning to her stepmom.

Wheezie said with a shrug, “Wanted to try something new.”

“Wheezie, we have a guest. Go upstairs and change,” Ward demanded as he tilted his head back to stare at her down his nose.

“I think Wheezie has a right to dress however she wants,” Rafe said, finally lowering his hand away from his face.

Sarah added, “Yeah, dad, we should let her express herself.”

BJ could see what her boyfriend and his sisters were doing. Wheezie was dressed in an out-of-character outfit to make her brother’s girlfriend feel comfortable wearing the clothes that the older generation deemed unacceptable. Rafe and Sarah were helping coax their parents into understanding why she wore the clothes she did. It warmed her heart to see it. Wheezie didn’t know who she was, they’d never met before, but she was doing this because she loved her brother. Sarah and BJ had known of each other before she started dating Rafe because they went to the same parties.

“Also,” BJ spoke up, “I really don’t mind. I think you rock the tutu, Wheezie, and those sequins really bring out your eyes.”

“Thank you, BJ,” Wheezie said before she turned to her father expectantly. Everyone turned to him to see his reaction. Ward Cameron sighed as he stared at his younger daughter.

“Fine.”

***

“So, BJ, what are you studying in college?” Ward asked as he sipped on his second glass of scotch. The men finished their plates as well as Sarah while the rest of them were still working on finishing their potatoes and little bit of meatloaf. BJ complimented Rose on her recipe after the first bite once she tasted the burst of flavor on her tongue. She talked to Wheezie about a new movie that was coming out. Apparently it was a part of a series that the young girl really liked, so she told BJ the synopsis of the first movie and invited her to come over to watch the first two movies together. Most of dinner was Rose and Ward alternating asking BJ questions about herself or Sarah telling everyone what she’d been up to for the day and what she was planning to do in the next couple.

BJ took her time swallowing the potato she’d been chewing and answered, “Actually, I finished college last year.”

Ward and Rose’s attention perked at the sound of that.

Rose asked, “I thought you said you were the same age as Rafe?”

“She is,” Rafe answered. “She finished her Bachelor’s degree in business, right?”

He looked to her for confirmation. She nodded.

“I started taking a lot of my general education credits my junior year of high school and took more business centered classes in the summer,” BJ said, turning to Ward and Rose. “By the time I graduated high school, I was a junior in college.”

Ward appeared to be impressed with what he was hearing and asked, “So, are you working now or have you decided to do something else?”

“I am. I work with my mother in her real estate investment business. I’ve always been around the office, even interned there the summer after high school graduation, and that’s how I knew I wanted to have a career in business.”

“I have to admit that’s pretty impressive,” Ward said and stared at his son. “I wish Rafe had as much drive as you do.”

BJ looked to Rafe to see him stare into the bottom of his glass that only had chunks of ice at the bottom. She could tell by the pout of his lips and his slouched shoulders that the comment hit a little too hard. Without allowing the others to notice, she reached under the table to place her hand over his on his lap.

“Rafe has plenty of drive,” BJ defended. “He’s just got to figure out where he wants to put that energy. Calculated energy is better than wasted energy.”

Ward only hummed in response. She finished her plate without any interruption. Rafe and Sarah grabbed everyone’s empty dishes. BJ helped Rafe stack all of the plates before Ward asked Wheezie to show their guest around the house.

“Yeah, BJ, I’ll show you Rafe’s room first since you’ll probably spend a lot of time there,” Wheezie said as she pushed her chair out to stand up.

Rafe stepped back into the room and scolded her, “Wheeze. Shut. Up.”

BJ laughed and stood up to follow after Wheezie. She patted Rafe’s shoulder as she passed him. Wheezie talked the entire time as she showed the older girl every room in the house. Most of the stories included embarrassing stories about Rafe.

“The rug right here?” Wheezie pointed out as they stood in the hall leading to the stair and outside of Rafe’s room. “Rafe tripped over it running out of his room and almost busted his chin going down the stairs. Luckily he stopped at the turn or he would’ve broken his arm.”

BJ shook her head and asked, “When was this?”

“Last week.”

The two giggled at the news, and Wheezie took her up another set of stairs. BJ followed her into a room that was clearly hers. It was a typical young teenager room with a few posters and brighter, mismatched colors.

“The tour is now over, please don’t forget to tip your guide and remember to visit again,” Wheezie said in a highly comical, animated voice. She worked on taking off the tutu as BJ looked around the room. It wasn’t a big room, but it was large enough to hold everything her heart desired.

“Is she your favorite artist?” BJ asked, pointing to a small poster of Taylor Swift next to some, what BJ could assume were, lyrics.

“Of course, she’s a lyrical genius,” Wheezie said, and BJ could tell how much the girl looked up to the artist by her voice. “Who’s your favorite artist?”

A sheepish smile was brought to her lips and turned to Wheezie. The youngest Cameron was sitting on her bed against her pillows, and BJ went to sit on the edge near her.

BJ said, “So, this may come as a shock, but I love Whitney Houston.”

Wheezie’s head tilted forward in surprise as her eyes widened. BJ laughed. The former girl looked down at BJ’s clothes and tattoos before looking back up to her with narrowed eyes.

“There’s no way. You definitely listen to classic rock like Nirvana,” Wheezie said.

“Okay, Nirvana is definitely not classic rock. Whoever told you that lied to you. And yes, despite my looks, Whitney Houston just hits the spot.”

Wheezie laughed and said, “I can’t wait to tell Rafe.”

“Hah,” BJ mocked and hit the girl lightly on the leg, “he already knows.” She hopped off the bed and headed for the door. “I’m going to go find him. I just take the stairs all the way down right?”

The only response she received was a nod before leaving the room. BJ could hear slightly raised voices drifting up the stairs as she started down them. She could hear Rafe’s voice but couldn’t make out any of his words.

Then, clear as day, she heard Ward’s voice, “I don’t care, Rafe! Think about what people will say when they see you with her. What they will say about our family.”

“You didn’t say this to Sarah when she brought John B home,” Rafe countered.

“John B doesn’t dress like she does and doesn’t have tattoos up and down his arms! I don’t care if you love her, you-”

Suddenly, it was quiet as BJ stepped on a particularly creaky stair. Not that she was quiet on her way down, but they didn’t hear her over their yelling. As she came down, she saw Rafe, Ward, and Rose through the doorway into the kitchen standing in awkward silence as they waited for her.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” BJ said as she walked towards the three of them.

Rafe started to talk, “BJ, I’m sorry-”

BJ held up a hand to stop him.

“You don’t have to apologise, Rafe. It’s not the first time I’ve walked in on an awkward conversation with my boyfriend’s parents. I just hoped your father had enough respect to talk to me about it.”

She smiled a sickeningly sweet smile as she met Ward’s eyes. Rafe said her name and offered for them to leave.

“And I wish my son had enough respect not to bring you home,” Ward said as he took a long drink of his scotch.

BJ’s smile didn’t falter at his words as Rose sharply said his name.

“You know, Ward, a person can always change their clothes,” BJ informed the older man and motioned to her own clothes. “Hell, on a normal day, I don’t typically wear this. I only wore it now so you could see the ‘worst’ of it and learn to get over it. I understand your reservations on tattoos. It’s not everyone’s preference. I, for one,” BJ stepped over to Rafe and motioned to his bare arm, “love the blank canvas that is your son.” Rafe muttered an “oh, my god” at her words. “But you should never judge someone’s character for what they decide to do with their bodies. It’s their actions you have to pay attention to.

“Your actions, specifically, have told me that you are a very insecure man who tries to keep the image of his perfect family intact to hide the fact that he feels like an imposter in the life he’s created for himself.” Ward stood up straighter and set his glass down forcefully. Rose put her hand on his chest to stop him from taking a step towards BJ. “The only reason I’m saying this to you is because, although I do not like you one bit, I have respect for you. I know who you are, Ward Cameron. Started on the other side of Outer Banks and, through hard work and sacrifice, you made it to Figure Eight. You raised a beautiful family despite hardly being there for them emotionally. Anyone can respect someone who has managed to do that for themselves.”

Ward scoffed and interrupted BJ’s tangent, “I let you into my home, and you decide to speak to me like this in the name of respect? My actions have told you all of this about my character? Through one dinner?”

BJ shrugged and simply said, “I minored in psychology. And I’m sorry if you find what I’ve said to be disrespectful. I found you talking about me without me present to be disrespectful. I love your son whether you like me or not and as long as he still feels the same way, we’ll have to treat each other with mutual respect.”

Rafe’s hand slipped into hers. Through their interlaced fingers BJ felt his grip tighten as he stood up to his father. With her other hand, she reached out for a handshake. Ward stared down at her hand for a moment before looking at Rafe. Another squeeze on her hand. Ward and BJ locked eyes. He sighed and reached out his hand. A firm handshake, and the two were on their way with Rafe saying over his shoulder he might be back later.

Her boyfriend practically dragged her out of the house and to his truck. The sun was already set, so the lights around the house were the only thing to light their way to Rafe’s truck. The overhead lights inside turned on and off as they got in. The dash light lit up Rafe’s features as he turned the ignition over to start the engine. BJ watched as he sighed heavily and fell back against his seat, and she reached over to grab his hand again.

“I almost shit myself when you called him insecure,” Rafe confessed, making her laugh out loud. “I thought he was going to kill us both.”

BJ leaned over the console and said, “But he didn’t.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head without lifting it to look at her. Pieces of his hair fell onto his forehead, and she smiled at him as she studied his face. A sweat had broken out on his face and neck, but it was slowly drying in the cool air of the truck’s air conditioning.

“No, he didn’t.” BJ watched his soft lips as he spoke.

“Now, the worst is over.”

He nodded. “It is.”

BJ’s free hand reached up to the back of Rafe’s head and pulled his face towards hers. Rafe didn’t put up any fight as he leaned into the kiss. She pulled away with a sigh, and the boy moved so he could comfortably lean against the console as she played with the hairs at the back of his head.

“Wheezie’s cool,” BJ admitted. “She told me a lot of embarrassing stories about you.” Rafe rolled his eyes. “Something about you and a rug followed by a small tumble down the stairs.”

Rafe shook his head and said, “I have just as many embarrassing stories of her.”

BJ smiled.

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Travelled (Legolas x Reader) (Part 2)

A/N: A continuation of my Fellowship x Pregnant! Reader story, in which you ended up choosing Legolas to help raise your unplanned child. Part 2 can be read without reading part 1 first.

Synopsis: Life with Legolas, your two daughters and your treehouse is perfect, until one night, parental instincts go on ignored, and things go deeply awry.

Warnings: I watched The Conjuring before bed tonight and was unfortunately inspired. Enjoy. Also Legolas is a cute adoptive father send tweet.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 2610

Rain fell heavily outside, though yourself and your family did not feel said rain. Buried below glorious crowns of leaves, your treehouse was situated securely.

Built into the thick trunk of an Ithilien tree by Legolas’ own bare hands, your treehouse was set with two bedrooms, and resembled an elevated cottage more than anything else. Around the length of the cosy home, a rounded balcony lay.

Leading down from said balcony was an old rope your children used to climb to and from home. One broken ankle later from your youngest twin, however, and a winding set of stairs was built into the trunk below, too — leading up to your balcony.

And indeed, “twins” was right.

Learning on the Fellowship’s journey that you were pregnant with that no-good Brander’s child was shocking enough, let alone discovering at the actual birth that said little baby’s embryo had split into two, providing you with a set of beautiful daughters.

Fortunately, they were nothing alike their biological father in spirit — possessing kind hearts and noble souls instead. Even more fortunately, they garnered your looks. Regarding their appearances, although twins, they each held distinctive differences.

Perhaps the luckiest of all, your old Fellowship colleague, now turned husband, seemed to have the most influence on both Ivorwen and Tobrien — better known simply as “Ivy” and “Toby”.

Rabbit stew, a recipe sent from your Shire friends, was made for dinner that night, as the four of you sat around a wooden table and ate merrily, enjoying the lively atmosphere the warm candles provided.

“There is still hair on the meat!” Ivy insisted, though, the grin on her 9-year-old cheeks gave away her agenda.

“There is not!” Legolas urged back, sharing her grin.

You and Toby laughed brightly, passing a plate of rolls between one another. This argument had been going on since before any of you had even sat down.

Ivy made a show of stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it up. “Yes, there is! See? There’s hair on it! You’re a horrible cook after all!”

Legolas made a show of squinting his eyes and leaning across the table to inspect the chunk of rabbit, before settling back into his chair and pressing on.

“That’s most likely your own hair! How many times have I encouraged you to learn my version of braiding?” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his own locks.

Your eyes crinkled with amusement and love, as you watched the dad and daughter exchange teasing words, even if none of those words were actually “dad”, “father” or even “ada”.

“You’re impossible, Varno,” Ivy shook her head, still smiling nonetheless. “Just admit your talent lies in hunting and not in cooking.”

“I resent that accusation,” Legolas playfully warned, pointing a fork at Ivy.

“Varno” was a name both you and Legolas had decided upon. “Ada” reminded him too much of his own father, and “uncle” simply felt too misplaced.

So, instead, “Varno” was decided upon — meaning “protector” in Legolas’ own language, which is exactly what he had been for you, ever since that fateful night by the campfire you’d learnt of your predicament.

Although many of your friends and colleagues that evening offered you their hand in marriage, you had felt a maternal stirring within you. Something told you to choose the best of the best for your unborn offspring, and who better than a steadfast elf to keep you safe?

You had been watching Legolas one night, a few evenings after learning of the life growing within you, with your hand over your stomach.

Although you still didn’t quite have the full comprehension of knowledge behind this, you truly believed, till this day, that both Ivy and Toby told you to “choose that one—he’s our dad”.

Resolute in your mind, you approached Legolas and accepted his offer of marriage. He was ecstatic and gleeful, and then a little boastful to the other suitors. Cockiness befell him for a short while, until your stomach grew and a paternal kick changed him.

He matured overnight and grew from a young archer into an awaiting father, despite the girls not being his. That never slowed him, though—he was a better father to Ivy and Toby than some real dads were to their own children.

He soon married you after the war, and the rest was history.

After you had to break Legolas and Ivy’s “fight” up with a laugh and a motherly warning, the table was cleared.

“All right, dishes to the kitchen, and then teeth,” Legolas announced, quirking a brow in Ivy’s direction as she walked past.

Legolas mouthed to her that their fight wasn’t over, and Ivy made a show of raising her brows once in challenge.

“She gets that from Gimli, I know it. Don’t ask me how,” Legolas whispered to you, as you too walked by.

“Intrusive visits and loud Yules,” you joked, grinning over your shoulder at your best friend.

Grimacing, Legolas winced his teeth with a hiss. “Do not speak of such holidays, let us just enjoy the autumn while it lasts.”

“You don’t want Yule to come soon?” Toby asked, appearing from behind Legolas, and peeking her head around his torso to gaze up in his direction. “What about toys?”

“Galadriel sends the best, and nothing has topped the bow she gave me in Lothlorien eight years ago,” Legolas replied. “Have you brushed your teeth yet, aranel?” (princess)

Toby made a prolonged noise, as she beamed brightly to show off her teeth.

“No, I don’t fall for pretty girls and pretty teeth, thank you very much,” said Legolas shaking his head. “Breath test.”

He bent down and allowed her to piggyback ride him. Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder and at her, where she then breathed loudly with an open mouth into his face.

Legolas scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell someone with stinky gums. And I’ve been to Mordor.”

Toby’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Will you tell us another Fellowship story tonight?”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” Legolas answered, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Ivy walked past again, done with her dishes, and scoffed at Legolas. “Don’t listen to him, Toby. It’s bribery!”

Legolas gently kicked her ankle as she walked by, although, a feather could’ve done more damage—your “gentle giant”, you called him.

“Very well then, tonight I’ll tell you all about the Mouth of Sauron, and why brushing your teeth is important,” Legolas said again, turning around to watch the eldest twin head for the bathroom down the hall.

She waved him off over her shoulder, before disappearing to brush her teeth.

Toby swiftly kissed Legolas’ cheek, before dismounting from the piggyback ride and skipping after her sister.

You watched from the kitchen sink with a warm smile, and wiped a bowl with a dry rag. You observed the ardent love in Legolas’ eyes, as he watched the hall for a minute, where Toby and Ivy could be heard giggling over their dad’s cooking skills.

He finally shook his head and turned to you, wearing a content smile of his own. Catching your warm expression, he walked towards you with a sly question on his tongue.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, returning to the dishes. “But have I ever thanked you for marrying me and helping me to raise those two ladies?”

“Ladies is a stretching term,” said Legolas, coming up behind you with a wrapping of your torso and a burying of his cheek in your hair, as he hugged you from behind, “but no—I don’t think the few thousand times is enough. Could you perhaps tell me once more?”

You melted into his hug, laughed like bright bells, and turned around. Wrapping your own arms around him, you buried your head into his shoulder and embraced him tightly.

“Well, thank you,” you emphasised, teasing him slightly.

Rocking the hug a little, he kissed the top of your head, and responded after a moment. “Actually, it is you all the thanks is owed to—I never assumed a life like this would be possible for me, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agreed, squeezing the hug once more.

You both stayed like that for a moment, before he kissed the top of your head again and let go. “You can ready the girls for bed if you’d like, I’ll finish up here.”

You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before walking away. Your hands remained held until the distance you walked grew too much, and Legolas had to let go to stay in front of the sink.

He smiled after you, as you disappeared around the wall.

Sighing in tranquillity, as the rain grew outside, Legolas looked out the glass window to his side. All he could make out were tree trunks through the rain and moonlight, and the prince basked in the sense of home for a few seconds.

However, the placid state could only last for so long. Unsure if the girls teasing him all day on their rabbit hunt had just worn him down, or if his eyes were indeed working correctly, a sway of trees exposed a trunk in the distance, where Legolas could have sworn he saw a body scaling.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his brows, the archer moved closer to the glass window. As his breath fogged up the glass, Legolas moved as close as he dared to the window, observing the distant trunk.

Peering harder and harder, Legolas prayed for the wind to sway the leaves again, so he could view the tree. However, before he had the chance to do so, a quick voice from behind startled him.

“C’mon, Varno!” Toby urged, waving her dad to follow. “Me and Ivy are ready for the bedtime story!”

Legolas jumped on his feet, most unlike an elf indeed, and snapped his eyes over his shoulder to his daughter. Meeting her young gaze, he calmed.

Although, with the odd anomaly on the distant trunk still on his mind, Legolas turned back to the window. The leaves swayed again, and Legolas saw the tree once more. However, this time, no beings scaled the side of it.

He swallowed his nerves and shook his head, as his daughter called him once more.

“Varno?” Her voice was slow and unsure.

Meeting her eyes again, he beamed brightly and ran forwards. Scooping her loudly laughing self into his arms, he spun around and lifted her high—all whilst heading down the hall.

Toby’s laughs and Legolas’ eagle noises alerted you first, as they flew into the bedroom. “Eagle Attack” was a game he’d played with the girls since birth, where he’d lift them high, making them “fly”, and screech obnoxiously.

It usually ended with him gently throwing them down onto a bed or couch, in an effort to tire them out before slumber. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

“Aren’t we a little too old for Eagle Attack, Varno?” Ivy taunted, already sitting cross-legged on her bed, as you brushed her hair beside her.

“I’m over two thousand-years-old, and I still find it fun,” Legolas taunted back. He collapsed onto Toby’s bed with her backwards, leaving the younger twin a laughing mess.

“I do not think that tires them out as much as you believe,” you advised, shaking your head with a smile in your husband and daughter’s direction, who asked for the ride again.

“That’s why I have stories hidden up my sleeve,” Legolas replied. He sat up on his elbows, and smirked at you.

You gave him a playful frown, before finishing Ivy’s hair. Kissing your daughter’s cheek, you began tucking her in.

Legolas readied one candle, and dimmed all the other lanterns, so sleep would find the girls swiftly. Soon, as you tended to Ivy and he to Toby, Legolas’ story began.

It was one you remembered well, and one you also didn’t want to. You appreciated how comical Legolas delivered the story, in a way accessible to children, for there was nothing child-friendly about that war.

It wasn’t long after that, that soft snores from the girls filled the room.

Bringing the woollen blanket up to each daughter’s chin, and kissing their temples, you and Legolas bid them a soft goodnight from the door.

Closing it behind yourselves, you both began the small journey down the hall back to your shared room. He wrapped one arm around your back, and led you safely to the door.

Upon entering the room, you each made your way to your own beds. You had only shared a few kisses on the lips throughout your marriage, usually in times of great emotion, like the birth of your daughters, or the wedding itself.

Yours and Legolas’ marriage was almost entirely platonic, but he loved you more than any other, and you him. Only Ivy and Toby were counted among his other greatest loves, with you sitting safe right beside them.

Although nothing physical or lustful of nature took place between you, your relationship was one of deep devotion, and you had, in your own way, each pledged yourselves entirely to one another.

It was simply the most beautiful friendship, and one neither of you forsook.

Fluffing up your pillow, you rearranged your bed, which was only a metre away from Legolas’ own. He did the same, and hummed to himself slightly over the rain outside.

“This weather is a little intense, isn’t it?” you spoke up, looking at the roof above once in gesture.

He followed your gaze and agreed from behind his concerned frown. “I was almost worried earlier that the roof would collapse, with the leaves now falling and such.”

“For its seventh autumn, it isn’t doing too bad,” you decided, now sliding into bed.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled, commending himself and his handiwork.

As he slipped into his own sheets, Legolas thought of what he saw earlier scaling the trunk. You were just about to reach over, wish your best friend a goodnight, before turning the candle out, until Legolas’ voice stopped you.

“Actually, meleth nîn—” he called, earning a blinking back of your eyes.

Conflicted over his own words, that same paternal feeling that kicked within him eight years ago drove his instincts. Sucking on his lower lip in thought, Legolas decided to trust whatever his gut was telling him, and lifted his blankets over to the side.

He beckoned you to slide into the covers with him. It was nothing unusual for you both, for many nights you had spent sleeping in the same bed with him. It first started in those early winter days, when your teeth chattered and your bones shivered.

His body warmth provided both solace and security, until you each grew so comfortable around one another that hugging in your sleep seemed as casual as a pat on the shoulder.

You almost went to tease him about being touch-starved or something of the likes, until you saw the look behind his eyes. They were the eyes of a concerned patriarch, and you knew better than to disagree with him.

After all, you knew to trust your own maternal instincts. His were no different.

Without saying a word, you slipped out from your bed and climbed into his, relishing in the warmth of his arms. He kissed the top of your head goodnight, before turning the candle off.

Only a small percentage of the fear within his stomach subsided, but he tried hard to fight it away. Nonetheless, the rain lulled him to sleep, where he then fell into a light slumber alongside you.

That is, until the bloodcurdling screaming of the girls started.