#it's been like a decade is mommy even okay?

[silvanantlers]

I'm like 3

[paarthunaxx]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

okay so this was left on the poll asking about people's urls, and I wanna explain this

to the term "daughter of Sappho" has existed for decades as refers to a homosexual woman. it's a euphemism in the same way "friends of Dorothy" is.

however, there is a single fragment written by Sappho that may (emphasis on "may") suggest she had a daughter. fragment 98 refers to a girl named Kleïs.

My mother said that in her youth, binding your hair in a wrap of purple was very fashionable. fine embroidery from the Ionian city of Sardis. She said that hair the colour of fire should use a lighter shade when binding it. And handsome wreaths of full-grown flowers served as headbands and always fitted perfectly. These wraps, these headbands, remembered by the exiles of the Kleanactidae, reminders of the past— For you, Kleïs, I have no headband, Nor know where to find one.

now it's not outright stated, but it's heavily implied that this Kleïs is Sappho's daughter. it should be noted that Sappho also had a mother named Cleïs (which I'm spelling different only to differentiate between the two. in ancient Greek they're the same I'm pretty sure), and the supposed daughter of Sappho might be named after her. again, it's unclear. it could also be that Kleïs is lover instead of a daughter, and translators just assumed that she was a daughter based on lack of some untranslatable context. maybe Sappho simply loves Kleïs the same way a mother loves a daughter, or something similar to that. (mommy kink?) sorry

it's important to recognize that not all scholars and translaters accept the theory that Kleïs was Sappho's daughter. so much has been lost to history and mistranslated that we might never know all the answers.

some think Kleïs is Sappho's daughter. some think that she's her lover. some think she doesn't exist and the name is a clit joke, just like how Sappho's "husband" is Kerkylas of Andros, aka "Penisguyfrom Man Island". personally I think the most probable answer is that Kleïs wasn't Sappho's literal daughter, but perhaps a follower or even a servant or slave, who Sappho might have loved and treated like a daughter.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, green eyes bright as emeralds in the sun. She smiled, "Don't tell mummy. This will be our little secret." She addressed Aurora next, "I'll be back as soon as I can, pet."

Aurora nodded, solemn, and you both watched Ginny greet a young man in similarly outdated dress as he entered the room. You didn't know who he was, but Aurora must've because she offered him a watery smile, eyes glistening.

"Where's Ginny going?" You asked her.

She shushed you, murmuring, "You can't tell mom, okay?"

Annoyed, "I won't." You weren't 3, you knew how to keep a secret. You'd kept plenty for your new friend Hana. Like her crush on the crayon stealer, Simon Elroy, or how she always took two milks at recess instead of one.

"She's saying hello to Grandpa Jack." Aurora told you, but you sensed there was a lot more to it than that. You gave her your best glare. She rolled her eyes, "They're probably going to try and find out what's wrong with her."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to watch her swan out of the room with a man who'd died before you were born.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pressed her hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was how you learned that Traveling meant something different to your family.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking weed. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man. He had big fat feelings for a Mutant prodigy. Was he the Cyclops to your Marvel Girl?

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, he'd stood up for the kids who got bullied, had done his best to fend off the misguided idiots who'd used their post-puberty size for evil. Trouble was that now he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was a cool kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted Mr. Anderson to fuck off and leave you alone more than he'd wanted anything for a long time. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, stare fixed on the man's haggard face, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby."

But you spoke over him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there yesterday. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily. Part of him was uncomfortable with the notion that it seemed like second nature to you, while another, bigger, part of him seared the way lemon juice stings a papercut.

He recognized it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less. Like Katelynn who, a week before her death, had been spurned by her scene kid friends because she'd admitted to being a fan of Hilary Duff.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, cowed, even though you shouldn't be. He'd been the one whose conduct had been inappropriate. He should be begging for your forgiveness, not making you feel terrible like it was his job. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

Wally's blood boiled.

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID claimed.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension in your muscles, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt such violent inclinations? Even against those prima donna bullies, the rage hadn't distended into anything remotely close to this.

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of weird imaginable. Something was off about him." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "He's usually so...friendly."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I don't want you to stick around, babe. I don't trust that dude not to do something stupid if he finds you again."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Him?"

"Honestly? Yeah. He was giving off serious Bundy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mama." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "Do you really think he's capable?"

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Like I said, Bundy vibes. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

Champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, "You lie like that often?"

Shame bled into your features as you cast your gaze to the ground. You didn't look at him when you said, "Only when I have to."

"Do you have to do it a lot?"

"More than I'd like, yeah." You shrugged, audibly unhappy about the fact. "Trust me, it's not that I want to. But my family has a strict No One Can Know policy when it comes to our..." You lifted your free hand and air-quoted, "gifts."

Wally bumped into your side sportively. He took a beat to consider his question before he asked it, unsure if he was ready to hear anything other than what he wanted to. "Do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

You stopped and drew Wally back the two steps he'd taken ahead. Looking him square in the eye, you promised, "I'm not going to lie to you, Wally. About anything. Ever." Once he nodded to accept he understood, you moved along, "And anyway, you're now in on the one thing I have to lie about. So, unless I'm under a Fidelius Charm, I honestly don't have anything else to hide."

"A what charm?"

"Do we not have Harry Potter in the library?" You asked as if to no one in particular.

"Oh man, yeah. Rhonda got really into those books for awhile." Wally sloped toward you to stage-whisper by your ear, "She's a total nerd for them. Says she's a Slytherin." Wally straightened and snickered, "Whatever that means. She'd kill me if she ever found out I told you."

You drew an X over your heart, "I won't tell a soul," before you released Wally's hand to push the door to the atrium open with both of yours.

As he followed you down the ramp toward the front entrance, Wally was unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort. A wave of fondness washed over Wally and he grinned stupidly at you, all teeth and soft eyes.

"I can't." You corrected. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally."

Whoa. You were officially the coolest person Wally had ever known.

A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unhinged. And who could blame him? Normal people couldn't leave their bodies at will and surf the cosmos!

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you both exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, piloting Wally's actions. He slid his hands from your waist down to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from your collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to drag you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mama had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to cool his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above astral projection but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss your fritzy ghost powers, not dry hump on school property. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with sarcasm and sass, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along really well." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You said regretfully.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, seven-thirty-early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally vowed, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you both quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[zoe-oneesama]

From what I’ve know, the fandom mostly dislikes Andrey for reasons related to Chloe (bad mother etc.), but what are YOUR reasons for not liking her?

Cuz she's an asshole? On top of being qualified for the Top 3 Never Should've Been Parents to Begin With Award (next to Gabriel and Tomoe), she's an elitist dick waffle without any on screen talent to back it up. So she's a fashion critic. So what? What makes her qualified, have you seen her outfit? And I just have a special hate boner for people who look down on the service industry, so she already wasn't winning any awards for "firing" people left and right.

Meta-wise, I hate her because she just confuses things. "Despair Bear" makes it out that Audrey abandoned the Bourgeois when Chloe was small, though at least old enough to remember, so maybe at minimum 3 years old, though in a sensible universe, closer to 5 or 6. Yet despite being absent from Chloe's life for about a decade, if not more, we're supposed to believe Chloe is the way she is because she's emulating her mother...who isn't there to emulate? Okay. Sure Jan.

Totally unnecessary, Chloe's personality has a good foundation in the fact that her father is rich, powerful, and ready to drop everything to cater to her every petty whim. What does Audrey even add to Chloe's story as presented? Personally, I would've liked it more if Chloe deeply resented her mother and was determined to prove she was BETTER than Audrey. Then have her be frustrated and pissed off every time the two of them are accidentally in sync. Show me a love-hate relationship, at least that would've been interesting, and better yet, would've had something to say about a parent abandoning their child.

But the show just sorta soft balls it. Chloe and Audrey immediately "resolve" a lifetime of abandonment issues because another 14 year old pointed out that they both suck and the two bonded over the fact that she's...right? Audrey decides Chloe's name is worth remembering, she's worth staying in Paris for, and she's "exceptional" in less than 3 minutes because Chloe yelled at the Butler. And for the rest of the series, Audrey is just another Chloe-Patsy, doting on her like her Dad in "Malediktator", cowering under her outburst in "Sole Crusher", and acting as her enforcer when Andre ever puts up a fight. A duo made in hell, but they ARE getting along.

Which makes the leaks for how they're going to end things for the two are confusing.

I don't like Audrey because she was made to be unlikable, but I also don't like Audrey because of her effect on the story. She's used to excuse Chloe being The Worst because look! An Even Worse person! And she made Chloe sad! So you should ignore those several felonies Chloe's committed because her mommy sucks! Nevermind that Chloe and Audrey get along just fine now!

And on top of that, she's used to excuse Andre. Andre, who spoiled Chloe from the beginning, who acts as her attack dog when Chloe cries wolf, who's taught Chloe how to lie, cheat, steal, and bully her way to the top. Somehow HE is getting off scott-free now because He CaN'T bE a DirEcTor aNd fUlFiLL hiS dReAm cUz HiS wIfe'S a BiG meAnIE. Even though Chloe is mostly his fault.

Why couldn't Audrey just stay in New York so we can pretend she doesn't exist and just let Chloe's behavior make sense like it did back in Season 1?

[seramilla]

Okay. Just to make the post about Sera and Carmilla possibly knowing about Sera being pregnant just a little bit worse. Just for the sake of angst.

They know about Emily’s existence. You know who they don’t know… Vaggie’s. Surprise it’s twins. Except when Carmilla gets sent to Hell and they get separated. Sera is never made aware of it. At first the elders determine that she would be too biased to be included in the trial.

But then nobody tells her. Nobody takes up the responsibility and eventually everyone assumes someone else has.

When the children are born. A mix of anger from suddenly being left with no explanation. Giving birth on her own, the drugs of child birth, and the postpartum depression leads Sera to rejecting one of the children.

The one that looks too much like a love she has lost. Without a goodbye. Without a word. Without a trace.

She of course regrets it almost immediately, but the action is already done. The unnamed baby is gone and there is no trace of where she has been taken.

It’s only years later when the family is seemingly whole where Vaggie shows up at Carmilla’s doorstep and Sera is face with the hardest decision of her life. Because when she looks at Vaggie, she sees her wife, and deep inside she knows.

She also has to grapple that her quick choose all those years ago has left the girl blind in one eye and with such severe need for therapy in the form of low self esteem, attachment issues, abandonment issues, mommy issues, ptsd, etc.

Wait. Hold on a minute. Wait. Waaaait. Hold on a minute.

WAIT.

This is diabolical, anon.

They BOTH have twins -- Carmilla with Odette and Clara, and Sera with Emily and Vaggie. But Vaggie is the only one thrown out because she reminds Sera too much of Carmilla, who just disappeared with no explanation?? Okay, yeah.

The High Seraphim has just lost her love without warning. Then she's dealing with childbirth all by herself, taking care of two newborns alone, with post-partum depression, and she at some point abandons Vaggie because she reminds Sera too much of the partner who just disappeared one day without explanation.

Sera doesn't know what happened -- something horrible possibly, but for all she knows, Carmilla abandoned her. So she just completely rejects Vaggie like a mother bird might. She barely has enough energy to take care of herself now, let alone two babies, so she gravitates to Emily, who looks more like her, and who doesn't remind her of Carmilla.

Sera gives Vaggie to someone she thinks will take care of her, but whoops, they weren't trustworthy at all. In fact, they were one of the angels hiding Carmilla's whereabouts from her. Somehow, Vaggie ends up in Adam's hands, like a lot of abandoned angels do, but by the time Sera realizes her mistake and tries to get Vaggie back, the person she trusted with Vaggie's care has already traded the child off to Adam for favor. They refuse to tell her where Vaggie is, Sera enters a decades-long depression, and becomes extremely overprotective of Emily as a result. The rest is history.

She had never even given a Vaggie a name.

(Is that angsty enough?)

[itscherrylipsforme]

The missing piece: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 2 here

Summary: A few months after Saltburn becomes completely his, Oliver still feels like something is missing. Without being able to put a finger on it he decides to pay a visit to Oxford, where all started, trying to find the answer between his old memories. Fate believes that a pretty and sweet student he meets in a bookstore is the piece of the puzzle he needs right now. After all everyone wants to be showered with love, don’t they?

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (nothing sexual)

Words: Around 1700

Author's rambles: Okay, I feel in love with him the movie and I am kind of embarrassed about it (It’s not my fault hat the actor has pretty eyes and a gorgeous accent, fine?) For your own good, don’t aspire to have a boyfriend as toxic as him in real life. Also this is my fic on Tumblr, please be nice

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

There is a psychological phenomenon that claims that after achieving something we have been longing for some time instead of the sense of satisfaction we were expecting we feel incomplete, hopeless and already looking forward to our next success. After having the Saltburn's keys just for himself, Oliver experienced that piercing emotion for the first time in his life. If he was painfully unaware of it or simply decided to ignore it remains as an open question until today. The only thing that was certain for him at that time is that he needed some action, a new goal, maybe some entertainment, and specially he needed answers. That’s why he decided to go back to the place it all started nearly sixteen years ago

Oxford hadn’t changed a lot since he graduated, as he had the chance to notice it. Different names, different faces, different decades… But still the same social scheme it was back them. Groups of rich daddy’s and mommy’s children swarming around the campus, pubs where you had to drink to be accepted, and poor little nobodies who had to adapt or die in the process

He rented a large flat not so far away from the university, and in the café just below it he rediscovered a hobby he had always had, but which have been almost forgotten on those last months on the mansion. Looking at the students, being able to read through their facades while accompanied by a cup of coffee, became his new pastime. But people always talk and after some weeks spending the afternoon in the café terrace just lost in his thoughts he realized the odd glances the staff shot towards him, so he decided to hide his true interest behind a less complex and unique one. The next day he went to the closest bookstore to buy any novel that would help him with his purpose, after all, people just ask fewer questions when you are reading on your own. That was when he found you sitting on a couch, legs crossed with a book between your small and soft hands

Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even. Young, probably still studying at Oxford. On the shy aspect, lovely and smart as he guessed correctly. Sweet smile. Bright eyes. Oh, and some soft curves he was able to peep while he seemed to be looking at the shelves by your side. Wait, was that a blush, what he saw on your cheeks? Another scholarship student as he was back then. The fact that your clothes weren’t from big and expensive brands and that you spent your afternoons in the bookshop without really buying anything was the clue he needed to be sure about it. God, you were adorable, perfect, just what he needed right now and he decided to start working on it

Time had shown him that patience and a good plan could take you far away, this is the reason why, although he was eager to come to you and straight-forward mesmerize you with his tricks, he waited. He spent the next five weeks going to the library more or less daily hoping to see you, and luckily (since he was used to building his own luck) your schedules always matched. He always sat on an armchair to read next to yours, close but not enough to be suspicious. Just after he had made sure you have not so subtly looked at him a few times, he decided to make the move

“The Secret History” a deep silky voice said from behind your seat. His face slightly near to your face which made the words linger in the air for some honey-like seconds “You have a good taste”

“Thanks… Thank you” you manged to say in sweet and shy whisper

“First time you read it?” he asked and a shake of your head was the response he got

“No, I have already read it a couple of times in pdf. But I have never owned the physical book”

“We can have that keep happening, can’t we?” he grinned, and you couldn’t remember if he was the first man who had smiled and looked at you in that way “May I have a look at it?” his large and firm hands came to hold the cover as he stood up and went straight to the cashier “Follow me, darling” the nickname rolled in his tongue, sweet as candy, and before you thought about it, you did as he said. You were obedient, good thing, he thought to himself. He pulled the money out of his wallet in merely seconds, paid for it and hand it back to you

“Thanks, but I can’t accept it” you said slightly embarrassed

“Of course, you can! It truly is an amazing novel, you deserve it” he smirked. His words have had just the reaction he had expected from you, cheeks covered with a tiny hint of pink “I have always found myself relating to Henry Winter, I just need my Camila now”

You were taken back, was that an attempt to flirt? Because if it was, he had your attention. While you tried to make any sense out of your thought, he spoke again

“I am usually on a café nearby, if you are interested you could come sometime” Another smirk, and at that moment you knew that this man was going to be the death to you. Things like this only happened to the main characters in romance movies

“I don’t even know your name”

“ You can call me Oliver, darling”

“I am y/n”

“Beautiful, beautiful y/n, it was a pleasure to meet you. Hope we see each other again”

And you did. Between coffees, books, conversations and more, he had you wrapped around his finger by the time your classes ended. Oliver was sweet, devoted, intelligent… all you could ever ask for in a man. He was straight out of your dreams, and damn he felt you were straight out of his. Innocent, easy to make blush, could keep with his ramblings and most important, you were eager to love, and he was eager to be loved

Yesterday it had been your graduation, when you left the ceremony in that beautiful dress he had insisted on buying you and wrapped your arms around him, he felt like his plan has almost completely succeeded. Almost, you wanted a fairy tale romance, and he was going to give you one. Keeping things slowly and delicate. But when he woke up and felt you laying on his chest sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t help but want to make you his. That had been the only night you had spent in his apartment in your months together. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't rush, so he didn't. At least he was glad you were coming with him to Saltburn for a few weeks in the summer and you could bet he wouldn’t let you leave the mansion again if he could. After all, you were all that he wanted. His missing piece

Part 2 here

[maxislvt]

Could I request a dark fic where Vampire!Wanda and Mortal!Reader fall in love, and after getting married, Wanda offers to turn Reader into a vampire but Reader says no. However, years go by and Reader is on their deathbed, about to succumb to old age, when Wanda decides she must turn Reader whether they like it or not.

Thank you!

p.s. i am a simp for Vampire Mommy Wanda

warnings: angst, mention of terminal illness, arguin

I didn't realize the old age part so this is just kinda sadder than need be

Death was the price that came with loving a mortal.

As a vampire, Wanda was cursed to live forever. An eternity filled with nothing but quick flings that would amount to nothing in the end. It was a rather sad love life, but Wanda had convinced herself she was okay with it. With a legacy to keep secret and company to run — her schedule was pretty tight. A relationship would just add more stress. That's what she told herself. Then you came along and ruined a near two hundred year streak of being single.

You were everything Wanda wanted in a lover. Someone gentle and kind to cut down the bitterness she'd collected over the years. It didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed you. Wanda clung to you for dear life. The mere thought of you leaving her sent her into a spiral. You were always quick to put out her fears. You never even considered leaving Wanda. She gave you her everything — you had no reason to.

Wanda wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to make you change your mind.

"You said—" Wanda took a deep breath. She'd never been so upset with you before. "You said you'd never leave me! We were supposed to be together forever." You always had a way of making Wanda feel things that had laid dormant for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. Her cheeks burned with hot tears. After everything she had done for you, you were still so comfortable just leaving her? It wasn't fair. "I won't be able to love anyone else."

You flinch at the harsh reality in Wanda's words. "I'm not leaving you. It's just my time to go." You had come to terms with the fact you'd die months ago. The doctors handed you a diagnosis and said you only had so long. Fighting it was futile. You didn't expect Wanda to be okay with it. Finding love after decades of loneliness only to have it ripped away was a pain beyond your imagination. But you only had about two weeks left and you didn't want that dread hanging over your head the entire time. "Just love me as much as you can, while you still can." You spoke as softly as you could. "Come here, I want to cuddle."

Wanda took a deep breath before laying down next to you. Fear still ran hot through her vines. It was making her irrational. "I could do it forever if you'd just let me-"

"I don't want to be turned into a vampire. You have to respect that. "

"I don't want to be alone forever, can't you respect that?"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "Wanda, you're being selfish. Think about all the people I care about and would have to watch die. I can't do that." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's body and pulled her close. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Let's just call it a night. Please?"

Wanda pulled away and looked down at you. She could see life fading from your body. You were paler and the bags under your eyes were getting darker. Even the light in your eyes was starting to fade. It was like looking at a doomsday clock meant specifically just for you. Wanda would do anything to keep that clock from sticking 12. She wasn't going to let you die. Your approval was going to have to take the backseat for her to do that. "Okay, I won't bring it up anymore." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before laying back down and holding you close.

She wasn't foolish enough to do it while you were awake. Once Wanda was sure you'd fallen asleep, her fangs buried themselves into your lower back. Sickness had tainted the taste of your blood forever ago. The sugary sweetness had now faded into something bitter and medicinal. She sucked until she had taken just enough to turn you. Her tongue licked at the wound so it'd be healed by the morning.

You'd hate her for it. Maybe you'd argue again or run off screaming with the hopes of finding a cure. You would come back eventually. Eventually, Wanda would be the only one you'd have left to run to. It appeared you had figured that out faster than Wanda expected.

Wanda expected nothing less from someone as smart as you.

"Wanda," You whispered from the bathroom. Despite calling for her, you didn't even spare your partner a glance. Your eyes focused on the cut quickly healing on your finger. You wipe away the blood slowly. Focusing on the task to avoid blowing up at the woman standing in the door frame. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you turned to face her. "Why'd you do it?" The look in your eyes was cold and almost uncaring.

That wasn't the first time you looked at her like that. It certainly wouldn't be the last now that you two had an eternity together.

"I did what I thought was best." Wanda stretched out her arms. "I know it's going to be scary at first, but I'm going to be here with you every step of the-"

You quickly pushed past Wanda. You grabbed a bag and began stuffing your clothes in it. "I can't be around you right now." Every word Wanda said fell on deaf ears as you continued packing. There was nothing she could say that would make you feel better. Just as you tried to zip up the bag, Wanda tried to snatch away. "Wanda, I don't want to hear it!" You shouted before snatching the bag away from her. It felt good to be strong enough to stand up for yourself. You turned and walked away.

"Stop walking away from me and listen!"

Your body stopped dead in its tracks. How could you have forgotten? Turned vampires were nothing to someone from a bloodline as powerful as Wanda's. That was just another way you'd be inferior to her.

Wanda turned your body so you were forced to look at her. "I did what I had to do to keep us happy. I will not sit here and let you make me a villain for putting you first!" She could see the anger burning bright behind your eyes "I gave you my whole heart and I'm not going to let you run off and break it!" It didn't feel right yelling at you. It wasn't your fault you were born a mortal or her a vampire. But something had to be done in order for you two to stay together. Wanda needed reassurance but all you were showing her was animosity. "Say something damn it! I need you!"

For a moment you just stared at Wanda. Fighting the urge to obey her wasn't easy, but you weren't going to let her win.

"I hate you more than anything right now."

[luciferfemme]

Alastor if you could stand to be less libidinous we wouldn't even been in this situation.

Angel: You don't get ta slut shame me.

Alastor: I would never shame you for being a slut.

Angel: Thank you.

Alastor: I just think your trousers are easier to get into than an open field!

Angel: *gasps* Like you'd know.

Alastor: Surprised your bedroom door doesn't come with a do come in, deliveries in the rear notice.

Angel: So ya do know how sex works.

Alastor: Who said I didn't?

Angel: I just assumed with your prudish attitude.

Alastor: Just because I don't have a neon sign that says all men half price does not make me a prude.

Angel: Whoa, I am not that cheap.

Alastor: Oh please name one man you haven't or wouldn't sleep with.

Angel: *opens his mouth then closes it*

Alastor: I rest my case.

Angel: Yeah! Well up yers old man.

Alastor: I'm hardly a decade older than yourself.

Angel: At least I got with the times. Ya couldn't even work a hell phone.

Alastor: I hardly need one. I'm perfectly capable of communication without such cheap devices.

Charlie: *sobbing* Why won't mommy and daddy stop fighting?

Alastor and Angel turn to Charlie

Angel: Oh sweetie no, we're not fighting.

Alastor: Yeah we're just having a little fun. It's okay.

*they hug and leave the room. Charlie immediately sits up with a grin*

Charlie: Works every time.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 50 (Life in Brindleton Bay)

cw: pet death, trying to explain loss to a two-year-old

Though born and raised in electric San Myshuno, Conrad immediately took to the quieter pace in coastal Brindleton Bay. He spent time with Gord at the dog park across the square, running the obstacle course to prepare him to impress their new captain at Brindleton PD.

As soon as Conrad moved in, Heather said she'd take Gord to be neutered. "I kept meaning to schedule the surgery, but with my work and the recovery time, I just didn't," he admitted sheepishly. Heather smiled.

"You live with a vet now. We'll both make sure he's better in no time. If we're splitting bills, that makes us a team, I think. Officially."

Conrad smiled, pulling her in for a kiss. "We are a team."

As a friendly and happy pup, Gord endured the cone of shame until his stiches healed. But they had only lived in Brindleton Bay a few days when Grim came calling for Heather's elder cat, King Tut.

Heather grieved his loss for weeks. He'd lived over two decades, so Tut's death wasn’t unexpected, but he’d been her companion since she was a child. And though she had her own grief to navigate, she had to help her son come to terms with loss for the first time.

Ash loved spending time with the family cats while Heather worked on her mobile app or studied her vet charts, but now his four-legged friend was gone. "Where Tut go, mommy?"

She knelt down to talk to him at eye level. "Tut lived a really long time, long before you were even born, and he was really old. When kitties get old enough, they go to a really special place with other kitties, but this place is only for them."

"We won't see him?" He sniffled, and Heather pulled him in for a comforting hug.

"We have to say goodbye to him here so he can make his journey to the special place. But it's okay because he'll be happy. Just as happy as he was when he got to be here with us."

Conrad buried Tut in the yard under a tall hemlock tree. His ghost could rest peacefully in the shade, and Heather and Ash could mourn whenever they needed.

And Tut could visit whenever he missed them, too!

Despite the sad start to their life together in Brindleton Bay, Conrad and Heather looked forward to the future. He watched over Ash when she worked long hours at the clinic, and they settled into a new routine as a trio with two cats and a dog.

One morning at the clinic, Everett's dad Bob Pancakes brought in Majora, one of his cats, and Heather learned he and his second wife, Annette, were considering retirement.

"I want to spend more time with my grandsons," he said with a gentle smile, and Heather listened intently while she worked. "Jett looks nothing like Spencer, but he loves her just the same. It's Spencer I worry about. She loves those boys, but I think she feels like something's missing. She can twist herself in knots with stress. My Eliza was like that, so it didn't surprise me when Everett fell in love with her, but I worry she needs adventure my homebody son just isn't built for, and the boys are so young."

Heather soothed Majora on the exam table. "Can I do anything to help?" She didn't want to intrude on their family, remembering her personal rule to keep her distance unless Everett or Spencer asked her themselves. "I don't know if I should get involved."

Bob laughed. "I'm not asking you to act like her therapist, but maybe you could spend some time with her. Plan a trip. The Kim-Lewis' and I will help Everett with the boys."

"I'll talk to her." She changed the subject to Bob's other kids before she cured Majora's lava nose with organic disinfectant spray. The poor kitty sneezed but recovered quickly and she sent them on their way, returning to the lobby to greet her next patient.

It wasn't like she didn't need a vacation, but life was far too busy these days for travel. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Pet aging is probably too long but two decades isn't unheard of! Cats really don't get in the way unless I have infants, so I don't mind having them around this long, and honestly the longer the cats live the easier it is to meet the Gen 2 challenge to always own at least two cats. Dogs don't live as long, so at least that's accurate in my preferred settings!

[bloatedandalone04]

Bury My Love

➪the one where you and leon go on, what neither of you knew, was your final mission together.

Part 2

Warnings: swearing, angst, more angst, fluff, mentions of injuries, descriptions of injuries, very sorry if some scenes are a bit confusing to read <3

Word Count: 4.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

It was easy. 

Damn near too easy, and that should’ve been the first red flag. 

The woman you had just saved was breathing heavily next to you, her hands on her knees as she looked around in shock. 

You turn your head to Leon and grin. He smiles back and the two of you embrace in victory as it was another mission completed. Another job well done. 

Or so you thought. 

As you found comfort in your partner’s arms, who had only just recently became your lover after half a decade of working alongside one another, you miss the way the woman, Talia, stood up straight and widened her eyes. “Where’s Matteo?” 

The urgency in her voice had you pulling away to look over at her. Leon kept his hand on the small of your back as he furrowed his brows and asked, “Who?”

Talia looked around her frantically, her chest beginning to rise and fall quicker than before. “Matteo,” she repeated the name, making you and Leon share a confused look. “Where is he?”

You couldn’t recall a single time where that name was mentioned, but chose to believe he existed as Talia began calling out for him when she couldn’t find him. You quickly walk over to her, dropping your hand from where it rested on Leon’s chest, and gripped her shoulders. “Who are you looking for?” You ask and wince at the way she tightly grabbed your arms.

“My son,” she whimpered and you watched as tears gathered in her eyes. “Where is he?!” 

Just as she asked that, the sound of a cry was heard to the right. Your eyes closed in dread when you realised where it was coming from.

Somewhere underneath the rubble was the sound of a child calling for help, and judging by the way Talia began rummaging through the debris, it was definitely her son who was trapped.

When she pulled on a large piece of wood that caused the fallen house to shake more, Leon quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the pile. You crouched down near the rubble and tried your best to look for a safe way to get in, straining your neck when you called out, “Matteo? My name is Y/n,” you tried to sound as trusting as possible as you didn’t want to scare the poor kid. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? All you need to do is keep talking to me, can you do that?”

“I want my mommy,” he called back.

“I know you do, buddy, but-” you were cut off by Talia yelling her son’s name as she tried to free herself from Leon’s grasp.

He only tightened his hold on her and gave you a knowing look. “You have to keep your voice down. There could be others still around,” he told her as you turned back around and began looking for a way in.

His words shut the mother up and allowed you to concentrate on finding a suitable entrance to the broken structure. You did, a few feet away and your eyes lit up when you realised that it would probably lead you right down to the kid. “There’s an opening over here,” you say and Talia bolts free from Leon and stands next to you. “I think I can fit if I lose my belt.”

Just as your hands begin fiddling with the buckle, Leon grabs your wrist, surprising you as you didn’t even see him walk over here. “You can’t go in there,” he says and tugs you away after giving Talia a look of warning, more than likely putting a stop to any thoughts she had about going after her son. You let him pull you a few feet away so he could continue the semi-private conversation. “You’ll kill yourself going in that mess.”

“And if I don’t her kid will die.” you whisper back, not wanting to upset the mother even more. While you look over at the woman, Leon keeps his eyes on you as he silently begs you not to go through with what seemed to be set in your mind. “We can’t just leave him down there.”

“Search and rescue-”

“Won’t be here for hours,” you point out and he knew you were right but he would never admit it. 

Leon locked his jaw. “It’s too dangerous,” his grip on your hands tightened when you rolled your eyes and tried to go back to the rubble. “You’ll get yourself killed, Y/n, don’t you get that?”

You sigh and lace your fingers with his properly. “I could get killed on any mission, Leon, and so could you. It’s just part of the job,” you try to tell him but he just shook his head, glancing at the weeping woman before his eyes met yours again. “Look, the more time we waste, the longer that kid breathes that stuff in. We have to do something.”

“Fine,” he says and releases his hold on you. “I’ll go get him.”

You give him a tight smile, poking his bicep that was nearly the size of your head. “Leon,” the way you say his name tells him all he needed to know. You weren’t letting this one go, no matter how many excuses he gave you. “You and I both know you’re not small enough to get in without causing more damage.”

His hands were back to holding yours when his plan of taking your place fell through. “But-”

You just shake your head and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body close to yours. Leon tugged you closer, one of his hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “It’s going to be fine,” you murmur in his ear, your fingers gently running through the blond strands of his hair. “I promise.” 

When you pull away, Leon’s lips were on yours in a chaste kiss that easily took your breath away. You melted against him, your hands gripping his shoulders while his held either side of your face. His forehead pressed against yours when he pulled away and his blue eyes stared into yours. “The second something happens, I want you to retreat back the way you came, okay?” 

You nod at him, your hands sliding down to grab hold of his forearms as his hands caressed your face. “I promise,” you say again, brushing your nose against his before pulling away completely and making your way back to Talia. “How is he doing?” You ask, ignoring the way Leon’s eyes burned a hole in the back of your head, still against the plan of sending you into a collapsed house. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, looking at you with desperation in her eyes. “Please, help him.”

Placing a comforting hand on her arm, you offer her a small smile. “I’ll get him out,” you say and unclip your belt from around your waist and hand it to your partner. Leon watches with worried eyes as you carefully slip your body in between two large piles of wood and stone. He grabs your walkie from off your belt and holds it out to you, silently pleading with you to just take it without an argument. 

Knowing how stressed out he was, you grab it from him without saying anything. Your fingers brush against his as you did so and you tried to ignore how tense his touch was. “Be careful, please,” he whispered the last word and you only nodded before turning your back to him and grabbing the flashlight that was attached to the belt loop of your jeans.

You were starting to regret volunteering to go get Matteo as the house was demolished at this point and any wrong move could send you straight to your death. You tried to ignore the uneven beats of your heart as you looked for a way to reach the kid. “Okay, buddy,” you say and shine the line in every direction. “Call out to me and I’ll come find you.”

“I’m down here,” he calls out and you turn to your right, narrowing your eyes at a small gap between the debris. 

“Did you find him?” You hear Leon call from the surface. His voice was quiet as you had already ventured pretty far into the rubble, but you could still hear the waver in his tone. 

You don’t answer right away, unknowingly making Leon’s heart drop, as you lean over and peer into the gap. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the kid that was cowering in a small opening. “Yeah, I got him,” you call back as best as you could. 

Up on the surface, Talia let out a cry and moved to rest her hand on Leon’s shoulder. To anyone who didn’t know the man, the expression he wore looked cold and angry, but the relief he felt when he heard you call back to him had his eyes closing and his shoulders dropping in relief.

Maybe the stress that was currently eating away at him was for nothing after all. 

“Okay, buddy,” you say in a kind tone, offering the child a smile as you look around the opening. “I’m gonna come to you, alright? Just stay there.”

Matteo just nodded, holding his arm in his hand with a pained expression on his face. It was clear that he injured it during the collapse, and you knew you had to get him out quickly in case the bone was broken.

You quickly swung your leg over and avoided touching any of the rock and wood that surrounded you as you entered the opening. Holding your arms out to him, you felt your heart sink as you heard the crash of stone falling. A stream of dust and dirt fell into the opening and you curse as you grab the kid and duck for the nearest gap. 

You fall a few more feet down, the hold you had on Matteo making you take the brunt of the fall. You land with a thud, refraining from crying out when your ankle twisted at the abrupt stop. 

Matteo began crying when you both looked up to see rocks, stone and wood fill in the gap you were just in. Cursing under your breath, you begin looking for another way out when the sound of your walkie going off disturbed the eerie silence. 

Back up on the surface, Leon watched in horror as the rubble sank and closed off the entrance you took. He called out for you while holding Talia back, his eyes widening when you didn’t answer. 

He sat the crying mother down a couple of feet away from the debris before grabbing his walkie and looking for you amidst the cloud of dust that had yet to settle. “Y/n, answer me,” he spoke into the device 

Leon felt as if his chest was caving in on itself when he was met with silence and he had to stop himself from going in there after you - if he could even find a way in, that is. 

Before he could even begin to look, the device in his hand let out a muffled sound before your voice filled his ears. “We’re okay, we’re good,” the relieved sigh Leon let out when he heard you was one that was shaky and uneven. “We just need to find another way out. The path back up is blocked.”

Your voice came out broken and he could barely understand you, but the important thing was that he could hear you, meaning you were okay….just quite far down.  

Leon shook his head before bringing the walkie to his mouth. “I told you this was a bad idea,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. “See if you can look around and find another way out. We’re in some sort of tunnel system. Looks like it runs under all the houses.”

“Or what’s left of them,” Leon mumbled to himself before answering you. “Yeah, okay.”

“Let me know if you find anything,” you say before pocketing the device and turning to the kid. “Okay, buddy. It may take longer than I expected, but you will see your mom again, I promise.” 

Matteo just nodded and you could tell he was trying to hold back his whines of pain and look strong, something that made you smile as you reached over to wipe away some of the dirt that covered his face. “Okay,” was all he said and began slowly walking down the pathway, still cradling his arm. 

You watched him, a nervous glint in your eyes when you realised that the state of these tunnels were almost as bad as the collapsed houses on the surface. The walls were cracked, bits of rock falling with every step you took. You knew that the tunnel system would soon be buried because of the weight above. These were carved many years ago, back when they didn’t have steel or the tools to prevent the ceiling from caving in, and the thought had you scared beyond belief.

Attempting to distract yourself from the situation, your mind goes to the only person who could ever give you any true comfort. Leon was probably keeping his cool up there, but you knew he was secretly refraining from pulling his hair out. He always worried about you, even on the simplest of missions. Not only as your partner, but as your boyfriend, now, as well. 

Though that title was still relatively new, you two had been side by side for five years now and knew each other better than either of you probably realised. It was easier to pick up on someone else’s nervous habits or signs of worry rather than your own, and Leon was a hard guy to read to those who didn’t know him. 

He threw himself into his job, stayed focused (for the most part) the entire time, then went home to deal with the trauma and guilt that came with what he did. Lately, though, he had been going to you after a mission so the two of you could deal together. It was easier that way. He had kept it to himself for years and only now decided to let you in completely, and that was something you held close to your heart. 

Your relationship was moving fast. Really, you had been dating for a while. The two of you would constantly flirt back and forth, he had your back and you had his, you’d go over to his place and make food for him (usually without him even asking you), and he’d come over to yours for a night of drinking. Those nights always ended up with him falling asleep on the couch and you falling asleep on him, which was always a bit weird to wake up to, but neither of you would admit that you liked waking up to each other. 

That seemed so far away now, seeing as you had woken up to him in his bed only a few days ago, before you were informed of a new mission - the one you were currently still working on, now. 

You were sure that in a few more weeks you’d be living together. It may seem too soon to those who were outsiders, but you’ve known him for years. You trusted each other, you had been together, even if neither of you even realised it. 

His relieved eyes and annoyed expression at your persistence you’d be met with after you resurfaced was what kept you going as you made your way through the tunnels. It was more of a maze, really, with some pathways being blocked completely by rubble. 

It was getting harder to breathe, but you pushed forward as best as you could. There was a six year old who was relying on you, and you weren’t going to let him down. 

As you continued to look for a way to reach the surface, your walkie pierced the silence and you quickly grabbed it, your hand slipping from Matteo’s in the process. “Any luck finding a way out?” Leon asked and you felt your racing heart slow at the sound of his voice. 

“No,” you answer, giving Matteo a smile in an attempt to reassure him. “But I think we’re close. These tunnels have to end somewhere.”

“Look around for anything that can indicate where you are,” 

You shine your light around the area, avoiding shining it to where the walls were beginning to cave in, and squinted at something that reflected off in the distance. You nod at Matteo to follow you and head off in the direction.

Your eyes widened when you realised what it was. “Hey, I think I found something,” you say into the device, bending down to pick up the object. 

“What is it?” You could hear the agitation in his voice and all you wanted to do was get back to him and leave this behind you. 

Your mind went back to earlier in the day, when you and Leon ventured into the town’s church in hopes to find something that would lead you in the right direction. Leon had accidentally knocked over a gold figurine that was carelessly placed at the entrance. It seemed as though it was just waiting for someone to trip over it and that unlucky soul was none other than Leon Kennedy. 

“You remember that thing you fell over when we were in the church earlier?” You ask as you look at the figurine. 

“Yes,” came his reply. “I didn’t fall over it, though, I just knocked it over.”

You shook your head and looked up. “I think we’re under the church,” you say. “Do you remember where it was?”

“Yes, we’re not too far from where it was, just hang on,” 

You knew it might take him a while to locate it as every structure in the village had collapsed. He would have to rely on his memory of the area around the church to be able to find what was left of it, and you knew he would stumble across it eventually.  

You let out a quiet sigh as you look down at the kid. His fingers were gripping the sleeve of your shirt as he gazed up at you. The amount of trauma this poor child would have growing up made your heart ache for him, but you just gave him a kind smile. “We’re gonna get out of here, soon,” you tell him, your knuckles softly brushing against his cheek. “You get to see your mom, soon.”

Matteo nodded and took the figurine from you as you  moved further into the rubble. Looking up, your eyes widened when you saw the thin beam of sunlight that shone down. You carefully moved aside a few pieces of debris and nearly cried when you saw a clear path that led all the way back up. 

Just as you turned back around to get Matteo, you could hear Leon’s muffled voice. It didn’t come from the walkie, but from above you. “Leon!” You call out, hearing him shout your name back down to you. “There’s a way up!”

You gestured for Matteo to come over to you and when he did, you lifted him up and pointed upwards. 

“Go on,” you tell him, ignoring the creaking sound that was coming from behind you. The space was small and you would have to wait until Matteo was all the way up before you could go after him. It was good and bad, good; because it was your way out, and bad; because Matteo was slow as he had a probable broken arm he couldn’t use to help him climb out. “He’s on his way up. Be ready to help him when you see him, his arm isn’t doing too well.” 

Leon shouts down an, “Okay,” before a loud bang from behind you makes you jump. Shining the light down the dark tunnel, you felt your chest tighten when you saw the cloud of dust that formed. The walls were caving in, and soon there would be no more room to do anything. “Okay, Y/n, you’re next.” Leon called down and you quickly grabbed onto a piece of wood and lifted yourself up. 

You climbed as quickly and carefully as you could and felt your heart jump when Leon’s figure came into view. You shared a nervous look when the sound of stones crashing was heard below you, both of you knowing that you had to be quicker. 

When you were a mere few metres away from him, your eyes caught a glimpse of a folder that was half buried under dirt and rocks. You squinted and were able to read the letters ‘ENTIAL’. Confidential. 

You glanced back up at Leon, who gave you a confused look as he stretched his arm out to you, ready to pull you up as soon as you were in reach. “Come on, you’re almost there,” he said and you give him a conflicted look before turning to the side and reaching out for the folder. “What are you doing?” He called out, leaning further down in hopes he’d be able to grab onto you. 

The pathway up was beginning to shake and you grab onto a metal wire for stability as you stretch your arm out further, your fingertips brushing against the folder. This is what you had been looking for. This is the evidence. The platform you were crouching on shifted and dropped a few inches, making the flashlight fall from your hand. You watch as it fell into the dust below before returning your gaze to the files. 

“Y/n, come on,” Leon said louder, his heart beating loudly in his ears. “Whatever that is, forget about it. You need to move, now.”

“It’s what we’ve been searching for all week, Leon,” you say back, biting down on your lip as you feel your arm beginning to ache at how stretched it was. “This could be what they need to shut this place down once and for all.”

Leon shook his head and he felt his heart stop when he saw the cloud of dust rise as the pathway began to collapse. “Y/n, move, now!” 

You finally grabbed the file and turned back to climb the last few metres. That was when the platform gave out completely and you were left to grab onto the wire again. “Shit,” you muttered and watched as the place you were previously standing fell and was consumed by dust. 

You heard Leon curse as he moved further downwards. “Y/n,” he said, making you look up. Your hand was beginning to slip as you didn’t get the chance to properly grab onto the wire, your other gripping the folder tightly. “Let go of the files and take my hand.” Leon ordered.

“I can’t,” it would’ve been for nothing. 

“Damn it, Y/n, take my hand,” Leon shouted as he watched the ground cave in around you. 

You blinked away the dirt that fell into your eyes before reluctantly dropping the folder. It fell down and became lost in the dust and debris, the only evidence you had been able to gather being whisked away right in front of you. 

“Here,” Leon said, reaching out to you. Now that you had a free hand, you pulled yourself up and reached out. Your fingers grazed his before the wire gave away and you nearly fell. 

“Oh, God,” you cry out as Leon ducked down and wrapped his hand around your wrist. “Oh, my God.” Your body swung uncontrollably as the surface collapsed, rocks and dirt falling into your vision as you tried to blink it away. 

Leon’s grip tightened, his fingers bunching up your sleeve. “It’s okay,” he tried calming you down as you hung above what looked like a never ending drop. “Y/n, baby, look at me.”

Taking your eyes away from the darkness below you and looking up at the man you loved, you felt your heart skip a beat. You grabbed onto the edge he was crouched on as he began pulling you up, your legs lifting to reach the surface. 

What neither of you saw, though, was the hole in your sleeve that had formed just seconds earlier, when you were forced to grab onto the wire. It cut your shirt up and made the fabric useless as it tore the second Leon tugged on it. You weren’t expecting his grip on you to release so soon, so you weren’t prepared to grab onto anything when you felt his hand leave your arm. 

Leon fell back as your sleeve tore off and your body was pulled back. He recovered quickly, but not quick enough. He watched in horror as you fell, your arms stretched outwards as you tried to grab onto something, anything, on the way down. “Y/n!” He yelled and felt his entire body ache as he watched your body get consumed by the dust until he could no longer see you. “No! No, no, Y/n!”

The rest of the broken structure began crumbling around him, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to move. He ducked down even further, his hand holding onto a beam tightly as he desperately searched for you amidst the debris. 

“Y/n!” He yelled again and felt hands begin to tug on his arms. “No, Y/n, please.” All strength left his body as Talia pulled him back and away from the collapsing church. The same church that Leon stood in with you a mere four hours ago. 

He fell back onto the dirt of the pathway, his eyes never leaving the sight of the crumbling structure. 

His heart couldn’t take this as it began beating quicker than it ever had. You were so close. 

Even as the dust settled and the church was laid to rest in a large pile, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was praying to whoever might have been listening that you would emerge from the wreck and be in his arms once again. 

The seconds turned into minutes and the quietness haunted him. You were gone, just like that.

He told you not to go after the kid, but you did anyway and now you were gone. 

He should’ve gone after you, fuck, why didn’t he? Setting aside the fact that he was a lot bigger than you and likely would’ve caused more damage if he did go after you, he still felt like he was to blame. 

Knowing you like the back of his hand, if you were up here with him and witnessed the rest of the village collapsing, ensuring the young boy’s fate, you would’ve felt awful. You would’ve blamed yourself, like Leon blamed himself, and it would’ve taken years for you to move past it, if you even could. 

Leon was in shock, that much was clear when Talia reached her hand out and comfortingly grasped his shoulder. He didn’t pull away in anger or lean into it gratefully, he just sat still. After everything he’s seen, everything he’s been through, nothing would have ever prepared him for the day he had to watch you die. He watched you slip away when he was an arm’s length away from you. 

He took his eyes off the demolished building and looked at Matteo, the boy who you had saved at the cost of your own life. He couldn’t bring himself to feel mad or envious of the boy, as he knew the sacrifice that allowed him to still be here would be enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

ur doing gods work for the house md agere community we salute u 🫡 can we please get a little!chase fic w/ cg!wilson ?

Lil Chase, my beloved. Little content warning for Chase's backstory and his feelings about it, this one's a bit angsty, but happy ending with cg Wilson fluff to make the medicine go down :)

*pats head of Chase* This kid can fit so many mommy issues.

-----

Word Count: 1983

Summery: Wilson gets a call from Chase after-hours. He needs a pickup from a bar after his regression is triggered by something that reminds him of his past, and he's unable to get himself home.

-----

Just as Wilson was about to sit down on the couch to enjoy a night of pizza, beer, and watching the game, his phone rang. He groaned. So close.

“Popular with the babes, are we?.” House said, mouth full of pizza and distracted by football.

“It’s probably work. I can’t just have one night to myself, can I?” He grumbled, fishing his phone out from his coat pocket. He liked to keep it out of sight when he was off work, but it always came back to haunt him anyway.

“Cancer babes then, even better.”

“Cancer babes? God, you’re terrible.” It amazed him sometimes just how often House came up with new ways to violate the most basic forms of decency. After over a decade of friendship he figured he would be desensitized to it by now. As much as he wanted to let the phone ring out, he knew that if it was the hospital he needed to pick up, so he answered it. “Hello, this is James Wilson?”

The other end of the line was filled with background noise. “Hey Wilson, it’s Chase.”

Huh. Chase wasn’t working that night, as far as he knew, and it didn’t sound like he was in the hospital. Maybe it wasn’t a work call after all? 

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you looking for House?” He didn’t think he remembered House’s phone going off, but maybe he had put it on do-not-disturb to avoid talking to people. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Uh… No, not— Well, kind of. I um… Could you pick me up from the bar?” Chase’s voice was strange and unsteady, almost lost to the noise that Wilson now knew was rowdy-bar ambiance. Wilson’s confusion must have shown on his face, because House raised a curious eyebrow at him from the couch.

“Who is it?”

Chase, he mouthed silently. “I… guess so? Can’t you call a taxi?”

There was a bit of shuffling before he responded. “No.” He didn’t elaborate any further.

“And why not?”

“Because I…” Chase made a choked sound that sounded almost like a whine, “Because I’m kinda regressing and I-I can’t—“ His voice was wavering, “I just need to go home. Please.”

Oh. There was no way Chase would choose to regress in a bar which meant it had been triggered somehow, and a bar was probably the worst place Chase could be if he was little.

“Oh yeah, okay. Okay. I’ll come get you.” He grabbed his coat and tugged it on, “Are you in a safe place right now?”

“…Think so, I’m in a booth by myself. I wanna go home.”

“I know you do, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Which bar?”

“Milly’s.”

It wasn’t far. He could probably get there in twenty minutes, maybe fifteen if he drove quickly. “Okay. Stay where you are, I’ll come find you. Try to stay big until I get there, alright?”

“Okay…”

He hung up and grabbed his keys from the bowl on the entry table. 

House paused the TV. “One of the ducklings?” He asked with a knowing look.

“Something set Chase off and he’s regressed at a bar. I’m going to pick him up.” He tugged on his shoes.

“And let me guess, we’re babysitting tonight, then?”

“I’m not just going to leave him at his apartment by himself, House.”

House nodded and stood up, grabbing the unopened beer bottles with his free hand. “I didn’t think you would. I’ll get rid of these, go get the kid.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

-

He managed to make it to Milly’s without a speeding ticket. It was a Friday night, so he wasn’t surprised to see that that bar was packed, overflowing out the front doors as drunk college students stumbled in and out. He could hear the obnoxiously loud music from outside, and air inside was stuffy and smelled like weed. He sure was a long way from his partying days… God he felt old. He pushed his way to the back of the bar, scanning for Chase until he eventually he spotted his blonde hair tucked into the corner of one of the furthest booths where the crowd had thinned to old men drinking alone.

Chase didn’t look great. He was hunched over and looking around anxiously, but he also didn’t look entirely present. Something had obviously scared him, but he would have to wait to find out what.

Wilson approached the booth slowly. “Chase?” He had to shout to overpower the volume of the bar, but he tried to make it as unthreatening as possible.

The second Chase recognized him, he shot up out of his seat and instantly latched onto his jacket sleeve. “Wanna go.” He said urgently. 

He refused to make eye contact, staring hard at the floor, and he clung to Wilson’s back the entire walk back out to the car. It took some light prompting to get him to let go, but once he did Wilson guided him into the passenger seat and buckled him in before getting in himself.

It was painfully silent as they pulled away from the bar and started back towards his and House’s apartment. Wilson’s mind was whirring with questions and possible scenarios that could’ve lead Chase to this. It was unsettling to see a little who was usually happy and sweet reduced to staring blankly out the passenger window. But Chase would talk if he was ready, he reminded himself.

After a few minutes Chase seemed to rouse slightly, taking notice of their surroundings. “Where are we going?” He asked quietly. His voice was high-pitched and soft, a tell-tale sign that he was regressed completely.

“I’m taking you back to mine and House’s place. We’re going to look after you tonight, is that alright?”

“Don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” Chase muttered, looking uncomfortable. It was better than staring off into the void.

“I know you will, but it would make me feel better if you stayed with us.” 

Chase seemed to consider this, then shrugged slightly and tucked his knees up to his chest in the seat. “Okay.”

Wilson didn’t have the heart to tell him not to sit like that, so he just let him be. He was about to turn on the radio when Chase spoke again.

“…She looked like Mum.” 

Wilson winced. “Who did, buddy?”

“A lady at the bar. She looked like Mum.” Chase sniffled.

Well, there was his answer. Chase hadn’t disclosed every detail of his past to him and House, but he knew that his mother was a neglectful alcoholic for most of his life. It made sense that seeing someone that looked like her getting drunk at the bar would upset him.

Wilson reached across the centre console and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbing small, comforting circles as best he could while keeping his eyes on the road. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t like not knowing what to say. Between him and House, it was his job to be good at the “emotional, mushy side”, as House would so-lovingly call it. He was good at comfort, he was good at kind words and fixing boo-boos, but when it came to this… 

“I’m sorry, Robbie...” 

They stayed like that until they drove into the parking lot, and then Chase kept a firm grip on his jacket until they got up to the apartment.

“We’re back!” Wilson called, shutting the door.

House hobbled out from the living room carrying a stack of folded pyjamas with a stuffed dog balanced on top like it was sitting, both from the bin of supplies they kept for situations like this one, and held it out to Chase. “Here. Go change and come back, we’ll find you a movie to watch or something.”

Chase hesitantly took them and silently shuffled off to the bathroom.

“So, what’s wrong with him? Kiddie usually only looks that miserable when he’s an adult.”

Wilson rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “He saw a drunk woman in the bar who looked like his mom, apparently.” He said in a hushed voice, “You should’ve seen him earlier, he was just staring off at nothing.”

He walked to the living room and threw his jacket over the back of the armchair, and to his surprise, the living room was completely different than when he’d left. The alcohol was gone, but it was also slightly cleaner. A small stack of children’s movie DVD’s sat on the coffee table, and there was a small pile of snacks beside them. “Huh. I didn’t think you were so proactive.”

House gasped in mock-offence and sat on the couch. “How dare you? I take my roll as part-time babysitter very seriously.”

“Sure.” 

He went to the kitchen and grabbed a green sippy cup from the cupboard, filling it up with water from the sink. He wasn’t sure how much alcohol Chase had before he called, and even if he didn’t seem drunk a cup of water wouldn’t hurt. When he came back to the living room Chase was sitting on the end of the couch opposite House, wearing the pyjamas and holding the stuffed dog tightly to his chest. Aw.

Wilson handed him the sippy cup and sat down in between them, sifting through the stack of movies. “So, what are we watching?”

“I was just about to ask that myself.” House said, “We have Finding Nemo, all of the Toy Story’s, Lilo and Stitch—“

“Lilo and Stitch.” Chase cut him off, grabbing the case and pushing it into Wilson’s hands, “Can we watch it, please?”

Wilson smiled. “Sure.”

His his credit, Chase made it more than halfway through the movie before he began to doze off, slowly drooping to lean against Wilson. He gently took the sippy cup away before it could spill water all over the couch, and with his hands now free, Chase wrapped both arms back around his dog and nuzzled into it.

“I think someone’s sleepy, don’t you, House?”

House shook his head. “No I’m fine, thanks. Him on the other hand…”

Chase didn’t object at all. His eyes were closed, and as much as it pained him, Wilson knew he would have to get up now if he wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight. He carefully got up and guided Chase to lay down. He only fussed for a moment until Wilson draped a blanket over him, and he settled.

They all had work the next morning and when they all got up, he had no idea if Chase would want to talk about what happened. He probably wouldn’t; Chase was only slightly less emotionally repressed than House was when he was big, but if by some chance he did, Wilson would be there to listen. “Goodnight, Robbie.”

“Mm… G’night, mummy.” Chase mumbled, and with that, he was dead to the world.

Wilson gaped. He was frozen solid, afraid that moving would somehow disturb the moment or make Chase realize what he just said and freak out. Did he really just..?

“Ouch. Well, I guess we know who the favourite is.” House whispered, with a stupid amused smirk on his face. “Mummy Wilson, huh? It’s got a nice ring to it I guess.”

“Did he mean to—? When he wakes up tomorrow he’s…” Wilson trailed off. He was caught between being overjoyed that Chase had put so much trust in him as a caregiver to give him such a deeply important name, and bemoaning that it had to be Mummy of all things. Sweet, innocent Chase had just sentenced him to a lifetime of “Mummy-Wilson” jokes, and somehow his chest was still full of butterflies.

“He’s gonna die of embarrassment? Oh yeah.” House snickered, then yawned, limping off to his room. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Mummy.”

“You’re an ass.”

[alyswritings]

Return of the Mom

Request: Hi love hope you are doing well (I don't know if you have watch shameless I was wondering if you could do that scene where Monica tries to take Liam) but like with JJ Maybank x sister reader (she like 7 or 8 ) like JJ and the reader mother comes back to come get the reader to come with her to another family that she started in her new life and then JJ goes into protective brother mode Thank you love

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: JJ and Y/N's mom tries to take Y/N.

Warnings: shitty mom, ig that's it?

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

All of the pogues are at the chateau. Sarah, Pope, and Y/N are playing outside, the five not wanting the girl around the current topic of conversation. JJ, Kie, and John B are in the chateau and the Maybank boy is pacing while the other two are sitting at the island.

"I-I mean, the-- the fucking nerve. I-- she's gone for seven years and she suddenly just pops up and acts like she didn't totally abandon her two children and leave them with an abusive, drunk, coke head. She just expects me to magically forgive her and Y/N to have this close bond with her. Y/N doesn't even fucking know her!"

"Well, it-- it's not like she can force anything, right? I mean, she can't just take her." John B says.

"Legally, chances are she could." Kie argues. "I mean, unless she managed to find time to sign over her rights in the process of abandonment."

"She left when Y/N was six months old. She asked about mommy once in kindergarten and she's never really been mentioned again. Y/N gets that she doesn't have a mom, but her just-- just popping up."

"Look, she's only in town for a few days, right?" John B asks.

"She's leaving the day after tomorrow." JJ informs.

"Right. So just... try to keep her away while she's here, maybe allow a small bit of contact and she'll be gone before you know it."

"Right." JJ nods

- - -

The group finished dinner a few minutes ago, having just ordered pizza. Y/N takes a sip of the cup of Pepsi JJ let her have, looking up when there's a knock on the door.

The five teens share confused looks and John B opens the door, freezing at the sight of a woman he used to know well.

"Uh... hi." John B awkwardly mutters.

"Hi." Emily greets. Her voice gets the attention of all the others. "Um... could-- could I come in?"

"Uh..." John B looks back at JJ who gives a small shrug. "Um... su-sure. Yeah, okay." He steps aside, letting the woman walk inside.

"Hi, honey." She softly smiles at Y/N.

"Hi." Y/N mumbles, sitting on the couch next to Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" JJ asks.

"I, um... look, I-- I want Y/N." Emily says.

"You-- you want Y/N?" JJ asks. "Define "want.""

"I want to take her with me." Emily says.

"Excuse me?" JJ's eyebrows furrow.

"Look, I-- I know I fucked up with you guys. But I-- I want a second chance. And-- and I have a new husband and some good stepkids and-- and I just had a baby. She'll be safe there." Emily says.

"Sa-- no." JJ immediately shuts the idea down.

"JJ--"

"No!" He yells. "You-- you ditch her when she's a baby and then seven years -- almost a whole ass decade -- later, you just show up and expect to take her? Especially leaving her in the environment you know that Luke creates? Fuck no."

"She's my child."

"That didn't seem to fucking matter when you packed up and left!"

"I screwed up with you guys, but I'm trying to be good for my new family."

"How 'bout you fix the mess you created here first? You already had two kids, but you got tired and left us for somebody else with his own kids and started reproducing again? What? You gonna ditch 'em in a few months too?"

"I'm not gonna ditch them. Look, Y/N will be safer with me. My husband isn't mean, she'll-- she'll be able to get away from Luke."

"She doesn't even fucking know you or any of your new, perfect family members!"

"I'm her mother!"

"Yeah, and you're also my fucking mom! So where the hell have you been the past seven damn years?! Huh? Cause it wasn't here. You didn't protect her from Luke's drunk outbursts. You didn't change diapers, you didn't comfort her after nightmares or during storms, you don't help her with homework. You didn't teach her how to tie her shoes or ride a bike."

Y/N leans into Sarah's side, the blonde wrapping her arms around the girl, trying to silently comfort her knowing she's getting freaked out.

"Well, I can help now. She's gonna need a mom." Emily says.

"She has Kie and Sarah, she's perfectly fine without you. Before you get too invested in your new family, maybe try to fix your old family!"

"You won't let me!"

"You shouldn't even have anything to fix! You haven't been here! You don't get to randomly show up and whisk one of us away to a different life! You haven't done shit for this family. For me, for Y/N -- nothing."

"You know, she's on the A honor roll at school." JJ points at his sister who is curled into Sarah's side. Kie sits on her other side, a hand resting on the girl's arm. "She was the lead role in her second grade play -- and her first grade one. She's the best one in her dance class. She won the damn science fair."

"And she did it all by her fucking self." JJ states, his tone cold as he glares at his mother. "No help from you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. It can't have anything to do with you cause you weren't fucking here."

"Look, JJ, honey, thank-- thank you for helping her, but... but I'm her mom."

"She doesn't even fucking know you! And helping her? I'm the one who's fucking raising her! Because her birth parents don't know how the fuck to do that!"

"I understand it's too late to make amends with you. I get that." Emily says. "But I can still try with her." She says. JJ scoffs, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. The other four all have similar reactions, but stay quiet.

JJ watches Emily's every move with a heated glare as she kneels in front of the couch, right in front of Y/N. Sarah's grip on the girl tightens and Kie sits up a little, ready to shove the woman away if anything happens.

All of the pogues seem to get into attack mode in order to protect the seven year old.

"Y/N..." Emily rests her hand on the girl's shin. "Mommy is so sorry that she ever hurt you. If I did ever hurt you. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me and-- and please, come home with me. You'll have new siblings and a new daddy and you-- you'll get a two story house. You can have whatever you want."

Y/N stares at her for a few moments, Emily's hopeful smile never leaving her face. Y/N glances between her brother and his friends, all in protective stances, angry looks directed at the woman she's not familiar with.

JJ catches Y/N looking at him and he softens, his gentle blue eyes staring back at her, part of him worried she'll actually agree to Emily's proposal.

Y/N looks back at Emily who hopefully smiles again.

Y/N stands up and Emily's smile grows a bit more and she holds her arms out. But her smile turns to a frown when Y/N walks right past her and beelines to JJ, wrapping her arms around his waist.

JJ wraps an arm around her, his hand resting on her back. His other hand rests on the side of her head, his thumb rubbing back and forth to comfort her.

"I think it's time you left." JJ says.

"Y/N, just listen to me, I--" Emily walks over.

JJ breaks away from the hug and keeps a hand on Y/N's shoulder as he steps in front of her, blocking her from their mother.

"You need to leave." JJ states, his voice firmer.

"We'll call the cops." Kie threatens.

"Yeah, get out before we either call them or get physical ourselves." John B warns.

"Go back to your new family." Pope says. "Even though you don't deserve them, they seem to like you better than any of us."

"If you ever change your mind..." Emily says.

"We won't." JJ declares.

Emily quietly sighs, but accepts the loss. She leaves the chateau, going to her rental car and driving off.

"Can you and I go watch a movie?" Y/N asks her brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, sweetheart." JJ picks her up, holding her. He kisses her on the cheek and walks to the bedroom. Softly shutting the door behind him, he walks over to the bed and sets Y/N down on it.

When JJ goes to stand up, Y/N keeps her arms around his neck, forcing him to stay bent down.

"Gotta let go of me so I can get the computer, shorty." JJ says.

Y/N unwraps her arms, but pats some of his hair down, combing her hand through it once which she always down when she's bored or just anytime she's in reach of his hair.

"I love you." Y/N tells him.

JJ softly smiles and he leans closer, kissing her on the forehead.

"I love you, too, munchkin." He says.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @ironmaiden1313

[verdemoun]

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN JOHN MEETS ABIGAIL AGAIN😭😭😭😭

oh my sweet summer child which one. don't worry i'll do both

john's death is awful. it's abrupt but it's not fast. he wheezes, knowing any breath could be his last but still fighting despite there being more lead than bone in his body in case he still needs to protect abigail and jack. falls to his knees, still trying to make his lungs inflate, feels himself falling backwards as the clouds in his vision turn to black

feels someone catching him. pain is gone instantaneously and he gasps like he was suffocating. strangely familiar voice he'd almost forgotten but could recognize anywhere tells him to take it easy, it's alright. wildly glances over his shoulder to see arthur. hosea's there, kneeling in front of him, trying to assure him that 'it's okay, son' in that crackly old voice he hasn't heard in over a decade.

still trying to catch his breath, looking around wildly and the first thing john asks is where's addie. not abigail. addie. because if he's seeing arthur and hosea, he's dead, and he can deal with that later but that means he can see his little girl again

and arthur, who once mocked his brother as 'father of the year' and despised how he acted with jack for so long can't feel anything but pride because the first thing stupid dumb younger brother asks for is his daughter. can't help himself from chuckling, because charles is no doubt struggling to keep her in the car, makes some gesture to release the little demon who has been bouncing up and down since she found out her dad was coming 'home'

john hasn't even picked himself off the ground before he's holding his arms open and abigail marston jr is sprinting to him. beaming like he is the luckiest man in the world for being shot 21 times because he gets to hold his little girl, kissing her cheeks in adoration, asking where she got the idea to get so big.

it's been less than a year but to not see a child for almost a year feels like a lifetime. she's almost 3 inches taller, she's giggling and whining he's going to squish her he's hold on so tight and he has to stop himself from thinking about the last time he saw her. last time he saw his little girl he was burying her.

the gang are almost glad to be forgotten about. there's john marston, older than they'd ever seen him, older than arthur ever got to be in 1899, who experienced his own death seconds ago immediately becoming a father again.

he answers her excited questions so gently - so sorry he was away so long. he went to mexico and all over new austin, but he thought about her every night. that mommy and jack still need to look after the farm so they couldn't come with him, that she better have said thank you to uncle arthur and uncle charles for taking care of her while he was gone and he's never putting her down again, despite her squirming and wriggling in his arms because she's a big girl who doesn't need to be carried

on the drive the gang can't even talk to him because he's just staring at his little girl nestled up beside him with so much love, trying not to look obviously confused and slightly horrified by her holding up an iPad and eagerly explaining how to play way of the turtle because 'arthur i swear to god if you converted my daughter into chelonianism i will find a way to kill you also why is this moving picture show handheld and interactive'

if he ever struggles adjusting to modern era he doesn't show it. the second he saw his daughter he knew that eventually (sooner than he'd like) his family would be together again and he would go through hell/learning to drive and work a mobile phone and getting a shitty part-time job as a laborer to make sure they are all safe with a place to call home again

--

in direct contrast, abigail marston nee roberts death is so peaceful. bedridden for days, knowing her body was quitting and blaming the immeasurable toll of heartbreak despite how much she tried to pull herself together for jack's sake. jack, who looks so much like his father, sitting at her bedside and insisting he'll be okay (for her sake. he very much won't be)

it's a blink. one blink, she's looking at her son, and the next it's her husband. the images almost overlap each other, their similarities and differences never more obvious. jack squints because he reads too much, young enough that it hasn't formed lines on his face yet but promises to. john squints to make his singular eye focus (well, he has two eyes, but she knows he can only see out of one after those damned wolves). his face is worn, an old, scarred map of the lives he's lived. the corners of his mouth tug more with smile lines than frown, though. it's like a secret between them, how often he smiles

it's like jack and john are in the exact same spot, sitting beside her, but the walls of bedroom have become a field, as john takes her hand delicately as if it isn't as rugged and haggard as his from years of washing, cooking, tending to the chores on the farm that used to be his

"hey"

"hey"

he sits beside her, staring at her as much as she's staring at him. she looks so beautiful but so tired, holding onto so much grief that no one person should shoulder alone. abigail notices he's somehow older, like the three years they've been apart have affected him too. more crinkles in his face, but his hair doesn't look so dry

he cuts her off before she can work herself into a panic over where their daughter is, as much as he knows it's been so much longer for her. addie's fine, arthur is entertaining her, she's as bossy and demanding as her mother (to which abigail playfully hits him for) arthur's here, sadie's here, charles and hosea and lenny and sean and karen, the whole gang, they're here too. not heaven or hell but something else she can worry about, figure out and understand later

might as well be speaking latin because abigail could not care less after she heard her daughter was there. she just so wholly, entirely missed john she doesn't want to take her eyes off him in case she blinks and he's gone again

[ofstoriesandstardust]

tale untold (b.r.b.)

a/n: yeah i don’t have a good explanation for this one. not all of this was my evil genius, i do owe some of it to @struggling-with-delia​

summary: Rebel reflects. 

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse

warnings: pregnancy scare, fears of an unwanted pregnancy, birth control, missed periods, mentions of an abortion, mentions of sex, at no time is she ever pregnant, swearing, this one isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea

word count: 2.1k

You knew better than to be as careless as you had been. 

You’d long since known, ever since you decided you didn’t want kids, that you had to be careful when it came to seeking pleasure through sex. It was something you didn’t really enjoy anyways, meaningless hook-ups not boding well with you, and you’d decided a while ago to get off the pill, it creating problems for your body that were much easier solved by just getting off of it completely. 

Still, when you’d gotten together with Bradley, you knew it was important you were smart about this. You nor Bradley were in any position to be having kids right now.

And you had tried to be smart, but getting re-prescribed the pill had been more of a process than you originally anticipated, the base doctor making you go in circles before he would approve it. 

All it took was Bradley’s inability to keep his hands to himself one night and a heated make out session for you to risk it. 

What were the odds, right?

The odd’s it seemed, were pretty good. 

Not in your favor, one might say. 

I think I might be pregnant. 

The words swim on the screen through unshed tears as Bradley stands next to you. 

“It’s going to be okay, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?” He says, offering you his hand. You just look at him, worrying your bottom lip underneath your teeth. 

“Rebel?” The sound of your best friend’s voice echoes through the Bradshaw home. 

“In the bathroom.” Rooster calls, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You’re a dead man, Bradshaw.” 

You both raise your heads to see Hangman, who’s smirking at Bradley like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week. 

To him, it probably is. 

A girl with mommy issues he’s done nothing but bicker with since the day he met her getting knocked up by a guy she had only recently reconciled with after almost two decades is probably the highlight of his week. 

If he could, he’d probably sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch the free entertainment. 

“What are you doing here, Bagman?” Rooster asks, a hint of irritation in his tone. 

“He was with me when Rebel texted me.” Coyote says, pushing the blonde out of the door frame. “Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then why are you freaking?” Hangman snorts, earning him a pointed glare from your best friend. 

The front door opens again, followed by the shouting of Phoenix’s voice. She appears in the doorway with Bob a few minutes later, a CVS bag in hand. 

“Okay, admittedly I wasn’t sure which ones were considered the most accurate so I bought you three different brands, just to be sure.” She glances up from where she’s rifling through the bag. “Bagman, why are you here?” 

“My presence was specifically requested.”

“No the fuck it was not.” Bradley says through gritted teeth. 

Coyote rolls his eyes. “He was with me when I got her text.” 

You groan, head falling as you reach up to rub your temples. 

“Rebel, chill. If you don’t want it, just get an abortion.” Hangman says nonchalantly, and even though you aren’t looking at him, you can practically see the shrug of his shoulders. 

“Have you... have you guys talked about anything like that?” Bob asks cautiously. 

“Obviously not, Bobby.” Hangman responds. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be in this predicament.” 

“But if you had a kid, oh, I could be an uncle!” Coyote exclaims, prompting another groan as your fingers press harder into your temple. 

“Yeah, but her career would essentially be over. A kid would change everything.” 

Phoenix’s words sit heavy on you, knowing how many female pilots have left on maternity leave and been pushed out. It’s a man’s world you were living in and you had known it since you were young. 

“What about my career?” Rooster exclaims. 

“You’re a man.” She deadpans. 

“Okay!” You nearly shout, voice hoarse and strained. “None of you are helping so please for the love of Christ can you get out so I can pee on the fucking stick?”

Everyone stares at you for a minute before Bob spurs into action, shooing everyone out of the bathroom before leaving with a quiet, “I hope you get the result you want.” 

You take a shaky sigh before running your hands through your hair. You take another minute, the anxiety swimming in your stomach before you stand up, grabbing one of the tests. 

After taking all three of the tests and washing your hands, you set a timer on your phone. You resume your seat on the edge of the bathtub, hands clasped in front of you as you grow more anxious by the minute. 

If you were pregnant, you were not having this kid. 

The thought that there could be an unborn fetus growing inside of you right now makes you nauseous as you try to remember to breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

You weren't meant to be a mother, weren’t cut out for it. You had known for years now that you would never have kids of your own. 

As crass as Hangman had been, you probably would get an abortion if that test was positive. 

The thought of giving birth, of the risks and complications, of having to take the time off of work to bring this baby to term, the weight gain and the hormones, the contractions and cravings, even if you gave it up for adoption, sounded like it’d be worse than a fork in the eye. Worse than several forks in the eye. 

And there was the added layer of not knowing what Bradley would do. Would he be angry with you for not wanting to keep it? Would he leave? 

Your Dad would probably be angry with you for being so reckless and careless about this, for making the same mistakes he had made that had brought you into this world. 

It was all too much, too overwhelming. 

You didn’t even have your own mother to turn to and lean on for support. 

The thought of your mother makes your chest feel tight as you suddenly wonder if this is how she had felt when she took the test. If this is how she had felt her whole pregnancy. If this suffocating, drowning feeling at the thought of being a mother had been what she felt through her whole pregnancy, of the first two years of your life, you think, for the first time in your life, you might finally understand why she left. 

The timer rings out, cutting off your train of thought. You take a shaky breath, standing from the bathtub as you steady yourself to look at the tests. 

Negative

Every single one of them were negative. You let out a choked laugh, relief bringing you to you knees as you slowly sink down to the cool tile of the bathroom floor. 

You would probably still have to go to the doctor, just to be certain, but this was a good sign. A good start. 

Tears rolls down your cheeks before you can stop them, the relief too much to bear. 

You sit there for a while more before there’s a soft knock on the door, almost unsure. “Honey?” He calls. “I’m going to come in, if that’s okay.” 

The bathroom door opens slowly, Bradley peeking his head in. He softens at the sight of you on the floor, tear stains on your cheeks as he glances at the test. 

“Upset?” 

You shake your head, wiping some of the tears away. “Relieved.” 

He nods, crouching down to sit next to you before shifting you to pull you into his lap. Your head rests on his shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist. 

“You’re probably just stressed honey. The last few months have been hard on everyone, but especially you. And you haven’t been eating properly and taking care of yourself like you should.” He says with a soft squeeze of your hip. “Those two combined probably explain the missed period and the nausea.” 

You shrug, knowing he’s probably right. 

“Bradley, I don’t want kids.” 

“Okay.” 

You lift your head to look him in the eyes. “No, I mean I don't want kids ever.” 

Yet again, there is that patient and simple “Okay.” 

It’s infuriating. 

Before you can create a snarky comment about just what he's throwing away by being with you, he takes your chin in his hand. “Honey, I’m never going to force you to do something you don’t want to. If that test was positive and you wanted that kid, I’d be all for us keeping it. If you wanted to get an abortion, I’d support that too. As far as kids go, I’m entirely neutral. What’s more important to me is your happiness and how I can support you best so that we stay together.”

“Sure, you say that now, but in a couple years down the road, you’re going to feel differently.” 

“No.” He says firmly. “No, I won’t. I want to be with you. I love you. And I’d love our kid if we had one together but I would love a life without them just as much. We have spent too many years apart for me to sacrifice it all now that I have it.” 

“You’re going to end up resenting me for this.” You mutter, earning a shake of his head. 

“Absolutely not. We can get a dog or something if it’s so important to you. But the not having kids doesn’t change my mind about you. Plus, you forget I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You’ve never really wanted children. I knew what I was getting into.” 

You sigh as he lets your chin go, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your lips. He shifts some of your hair to press a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. 

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” 

-

Bradley’s chest vibrates agains your back as he laughs at the Scooby-Doo cartoon on screen. Buddy’s curled up at your feet, a heavy ring on your finger holding the weight of the promise of forever. 

This, what you have with Bradley, is forever. He’s been making that promise to you since the day the two of you got together. 

Still, the memory is there. 

It carries a heavy weight of its own, the fear that had lingered. 

The two of you hadn’t had any more scares since that one, you’d made sure of it. But the fear of what you were denying Bradley had stayed. It was a fear the two of you had had raw, honest conversations about and you’d had to learnt to trust him when he said that he felt like he wasn’t missing out by being with you, that he was perfectly content not having kids of his own. 

“Do you remember when we had that pregnancy scare?” 

Bradley huffs out a laugh, his chest vibrating again.

“Of course I do, Coyote was practically building a nursery in his mind before you ever even took a test.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you piece the words together. 

“I’ll never forgive my Mom.” You whisper. Bradley shifts against your back, propping himself up. Your eyes are still trained on the young crew, tracking down the masked man behind the ghost. 

“But for one moment, just one, I understood her.” 

You sit up before Bradley has a chance to even process the words, earning a raise of Buddy’s head. You smile down at the dog. “C’mon Buddy, it’s time for bed.” 

You walk up the stairs with the dog, getting ready for to turn in for the night as Bradley follows you. It’s silent, Bradley not saying anything as the two of you get ready for bed. Even after the two of you have turned off the lights and climbed up under the covers, Bradley doesn’t say anything. He just pulls you close, your dog wedged between the two of you at your feet. 

He runs his fingers through your hair as you hear the AC kick in, reminding you of the summer heat existing outside these walls. 

Only after minutes more with just the hum of the air conditioning unit and the steady breathing of your golden retriever, does Bradley speak. 

“I love you sweetheart.” He whispers, shifting slightly to press a kiss to your collarbone. You smile, even though he can’t see it. 

There’s that promise again, the promise to always love you, to never leave. 

“I know.” You respond quietly. “I love you too.” 

And that’s your promise to him, that you’ll accept his love and return it all the same. 

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Seventy One

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you for the love for this version of them. They have such a special place in my heart.

We are now officially in Season 7 in this universe!

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I don’t have to go.” 

Emily turns to face her husband, and she raises her eyebrow at him as she crosses her arms over her chest. She glances at Lily in her highchair, smiling at the sight of her little girl covered in oatmeal, and then she looks back at her husband and rests her hip against the kitchen counter.

“You have a case, honey, you have to go,” she assures him, her smile getting wider as he steps towards her and wraps his arms around her, “I’ve dealt with my mother by myself for decades. I can handle an afternoon.” 

“It’s not just a normal afternoon,” He sighs, guilt making his chest tight as he pulls her closer, his palms spanning the width of her back, “She’s meeting Lily for the first time, Em.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, leaning forward to press her cheek against his chest. She’s grateful when he holds her even tighter and she wraps her arms around his back, sinking into his embrace - the one place she’d always felt safe no matter what. 

After Lily’s birthday, she'd decided she was ready for her mother to meet her. It was a decision she hadn’t come to easily but it felt right. Elizabeth had been sober for 11 months. She’d been going to her meetings, she’d been making amends - as well as she could make amends. And when she recently asked if she could meet Lily soon, Emily realised the thought of it didn’t make her feel nauseous like it had for months. 

Things were still awkward at times. Elizabeth pushed boundaries like she always did, albeit with a little less tenacity these days, and Emily did the same. Their relationship would never be perfect, Emily knew that. She’d never have the relationship with her mother that she was striving to have with Lily and Jack, and anyone else who might come along. She had come to terms with that a long time ago. Long before she’d even considered being with Aaron let alone building a family with him. 

“I know,” she replies, pulling back to look at him, “But you have a case. It can’t be helped and I know that,” she runs her fingers through his hair, smiling softly, “Although, I will say going to Oklahoma to avoid my mother is a real Emily move.” 

Aaron pulls her closer, stamping a kiss against her lips, “Clearly you’ve rubbed off on me.”

She hums and sinks her teeth into her lower lip, pressing her body against his, lowering her voice, “If you didn’t have to leave right now I’d rub off on you a little more.” 

He laughs, the bright beautiful laugh she loves and he shakes his head at her as his gaze flicks over to Lily, “Em…”

“What?” She says, winking at him before she kisses him once more and pulls back, putting some space between them, “She’s 13 months old. She doesn’t know what s-e-x is yet,” she says, smiling as she purposely spells it out, the look on her face letting him know that she was making fun of him. 

“If I have my way she never will,” he grumbles, walking over and dropping a kiss on Lily’s head, grinning as she babbles at him, “Love you Lily-Pad, you look after Mommy okay?” 

“Mama!” Lily exclaims, slamming her hands down into her breakfast, sending oatmeal everywhere. Aaron only just gets out of the way in time before it splatters on his suit and Emily grimaces at the sight of the sticky little girl. 

“That’s going to be fun to clean up,” she says, her nose scrunched up as she turns to look at her husband, “You’d better get going.” 

“Sure you don’t want any help?” He offers genuinely and she loves him for it. It was times like this that she was grateful to be his second wife, grateful that he had learned from the mistakes he’d made when he was married to Haley. 

“You’re sweet,” she says, stamping a kiss to his cheek, “But you need to go. I’ll clean up Little Miss Oatmeal over there,” she says as she nods towards their daughter, “Call me when you land?” 

“Always,” he replies, kissing her one last time before he pulls away and reaches for his go-bag, “Love you. Let me know how it goes with your mother.” 

“I will. Love you too,” she says as she watches him leave the kitchen, “Stay safe.”

“I always do.” 

She scoffs at his reply and turns to look at Lily, shaking her head as she walks over, “Daddy is silly,” she says, picking Lily up and resting her on her hip.

“Dada!”

“That’s right baby. Dada,” she says, heading towards the stairs, grimacing internally when Lily’s oatmeal covered fists wrap themselves around the material of Emily’s pyjama shirt, “Great day for Mommy to leave the wipes upstairs, huh?” She says, more to herself than the little girl on her hip, “Let’s go get you all cleaned up for Grandma.” 

___

Emily is just settling a freshly clean Lily onto her hip when she hears the doorbell ring. For the first time since she’d agreed to do this, she feels a flash of doubt lick up her neck, forcing her to blow out a slow breath as she subconsciously tightens her hold on her little girl. 

Elizabeth had always been so critical of everything Emily had ever done. There had never been any praise that wasn’t followed up by how she could have done better, every compliment sharp in its indifference. This part of her life, her marriage to Aaron, her experience as a mother so far, had been protected from that. It had been separate. Entirely hers. And for a moment it feels almost impossible to let go of that. 

She shakes it off and reminds herself that her mother knew she had boundaries, that if they were breached there was no coming back from it again. This was Elizabeth’s last chance, her only chance to get to know her granddaughter, and Emily hoped that she wouldn’t risk that for anything. 

“Okay baby,” Emily says, bouncing Lily on her hip just to see her smile, her daughter’s toothy grin something that never failed to make the world seem perfect every time she saw it, “Let’s go meet grandma,” she stamps a kiss against Lily’s forehead and then walks out of the nursery, “Shall we come up with a safe word in case we need to get out of this?” She asks, smiling as Lily babbles to herself, “Maybe Mama? Or ‘io?”

“‘io!” Lily exclaims, clapping her hands like she did whenever she tried to say Sergio’s name, her love for the cat neverending.” 

“Good call,” she says, kissing Lily’s head again as they make it to the front door, shaking her head at herself as she realises she’s trying to bargain with a 13-month-old, “Mommy really needs to get out more,” she blows out a slow breath and closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one more moment, where her life was untouched by the world she’d left behind. She opens the door and smiles when her eyes meet Elizabeth’s, “Mom. Hi.” 

She watches as a cycle of emotions passes over her mother’s face in a matter of seconds. Happiness. Pride. Joy. Sorrow. All tied up in a bow and covered with a smile Emily knows is fake before anyone who wasn’t trained to read behaviour would spot anything that came before it. 

“Hi,” Elizabeth says, her hands clasped in front of her as she stares at Lily, “Wow. She really does look like you. The pictures you’ve shown me really don’t do it justice” 

Emily’s smile turns genuine as she steps back into the house and lets her mother past her, “Everyone says that.”

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat, “Everyone is right.” They fall into an awkward silence, everything they had never said to each other hanging in the air between them. Elizabeth clears her throat, holding her hands out in front of her, “Can I…”

Emily hears what she hasn’t said and nods, “Yeah, of course,” she adjusts her hold on Lily, but before she can even attempt to hand her over, the little girl cries out, her hands tight in Emily’s shirt as she buries her face in her neck, desperate to get as close to her mother as possible. 

“Mama.” 

“Sorry, she’s teething and she’s nervous around…” Emily trails off, catching herself before she can carry on, before she says something that will hurt Elizabeth’s feelings. 

“Strangers,” Elizabeth finishes for her, her smile tight, “It’s my fault she doesn’t know me.” 

She sighs and rubs her hand up and down Lily’s back, not sure if she’s attempting to comfort the little girl or herself. 

“Why don’t we have a coffee?” Emily suggests, “She’ll warm up after a little while.” 

“Sounds good,” she replies and she follows Emily towards the kitchen, looking around the hallway as she goes, “It’s a nice house.”

“Thank you,” Emily says as they step into the kitchen, expertly starting the process of making coffee one-handed, “We love it.” 

“It’s especially nice for two people on government salaries.” 

Emily’s grip on the handle of the coffee pot tightens, and she’s grateful she has her back to her mother, that she can’t see the tightness in her jaw, “Mother…”

“I’m just saying,” Elizabeth says, “It’s very nice.” 

She sighs and turns to face her, “Mom, I know what you’re not asking and yes I used some of my trust fund to buy this place,” she says, raising her hand as Elizabeth tries to speak, her eyebrow raised as she cuts over her before she can, “And no I did not sign a prenup. I bought this place for my family to live in. And you don’t get to have an opinion on that. You actually don’t get to have an opinion on anything to do with my life.” 

There’s another moment of tense silence between them, matching dark eyes boring into each other as Lily babbles quietly to herself, the only other sound the drip of the coffee into the pot. Eventually, Elizabeth clears her throat and presses her lips together, as if she’s physically holding a response back before she nods out the window, drawing Emily’s attention towards the large playhouse in the yard that she had bought for Lily’s birthday. 

“The playhouse is smaller than I thought it would be.”

Emily covers a laugh with a cough and shakes her head, her mother’s ability to switch gears in a conversation second to none. She turns to the coffee machine and grabs the pot, ready to pour it into two mugs, “Well Lily loves it. Jack too.” 

“Jack?” 

Emily suppresses a sigh at the confusion in Elizabeth’s voice, “My stepson,” she says, “We share custody with Haley.” 

“Of course,” Elizabeth says, a rare embarrassed edge to her smile, “You’ve…built quite a life for yourself, Emily.” 

She smiles, the first full genuine one since her mother had arrived, and she nods, “Yeah,” she says, holding Lily impossibly closer, “I really have.”

___

She rushes out of the bathroom when she hears her phone ringing, her alarm just set on her watch as she grabs her phone and answers it, smiling at the sight of Aaron’s smiling face on her screen. She’d recently changed his contact photo to a close-up of his work badge to tease him. She loved his goofy, slightly out of character, smile on it - something that was only made more entertaining by how much he hated it. 

“Hi honey,” she says as she answers, sitting down on his side of the bed, her back against the headboard, “How are you?” 

“Tired,” he replies, his voice gruff as it comes down the phone, his exhaustion clear, “How did it go with your mother?”

She blows out a breath and closes her eyes, “Fine. Mostly. She made a comment about the house which I nipped in the bud,” she shakes her head, “She also suggested we get Lily on a list for a preschool as soon as we can and told me she has connections.” 

He chokes on a laugh, “What did you say to that?” 

She hums and checks her watch, “I told her we were planning on sending her to the local school,” she replies, unable to stop smiling at the memory of the look on her mother’s face, “That kept her quiet until she left,” she sighs, “But it was good. She was…good with Lily. Better than I thought she would be.” 

She couldn’t figure out how she felt about it. She didn’t want to get carried away, her relationship with her mother was still delicate, prone to falling apart at the slightest thing, but she couldn’t deny it was nice to have someone else in her daughter’s life who loved her. It hurt a little to watch Elizabeth sit on the floor with Lily, gladly taking all the toys the little girl passed her and chatting along with her mostly non-sensical babble. She didn’t know if Elizabeth had ever done the same with her when she was small but she doubted it. She couldn’t picture it and it made her furious that her mother had learnt her lesson too late for her. 

She just hoped she’d learnt it in time for her little girl, even if she couldn’t have done it for her own. 

“Em-”

“How’s the case?” She cuts him off, not wanting to get into it with him over the phone. She wanted to wait until he was here, until she could press her face into his chest, his embrace the safest place she’d ever known - the place where she knew he’d guard all her secrets.

“It’s a rough one. The unsub is blinding them with acid.” He sighs, sounding weary. He knew her well enough to understand what she was doing, but he let it pass, “Is it wrong if I say I wish you were here?”

She giggles and sighs contentedly, “No, part of me wishes I was there too,” she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, “The bed is too cold without you.” 

He laughs this time and it eases something in her chest, pride warming her from the inside out because she’d cheered him up, even for a moment, “Good to know I have my uses.” 

“You have plenty of uses,” she replies, but is cut off from saying anything else by the ring of the alarm on her watch. 

“What’s that?” 

She switches the alarm off, “Oh, I put one of those melt-in-middle desserts I love in the oven. It’s ready.” 

She knows if he were here, if he was sitting next to her, he’d see through the lie. She’s grateful that he doesn’t seem to now, his initial response a groan.

“Please tell me you’ll at least have some of the berries in the fridge with it?” 

She giggles as she stands up, “For you, honey, anything. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

She blows out a slow breath and pushes her phone into her pocket, giving herself a moment before she walks back into the bathroom. She walks over to the counter and picks up the pregnancy test she’d placed there just a few minutes ago, allowing the nervous anticipation to roll over in her stomach before she looks down. 

Negative.

The disappointment is sharp, forcing her to swallow thickly as she pushes back emotions that feel nothing short of ridiculous. She’d only had her IUD removed a few weeks ago, and she knew it was unlikely she’d be pregnant already, but treacherous hope had made her take the test against her better judgment. She’d got pregnant easily enough every other time easily enough, so it hadn’t seemed entirely beyond a possibility that she would this time too. 

She wanted it so badly it hurt, and she knew Aaron did too - which is why she hadn’t told him she was taking the test. She wanted to surprise him, to present him with a positive test and tell him they were having a baby. It was something that had been taken away from her when they found out they were having Lily, the reveal that she existed something that a doctor had blurted out to them, and then again when Emily miscarried. The pregnancy already gone by the time she knew it was there. 

She jumps a little when Lily cries from the next room, the sharp sound of it pulling her out of her haze. She looks at the test once more, as if the result would have miraculously changed.

She shakes her head at herself before she dumps it in the trashcan and turns to leave the room without looking back. “Mommy’s coming, sweet girl.” 

-x-

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