#like do I put the warnings for the whole fic on each chapter?? put only the chapter warnings??? literally this is me: 🧍‍♀️

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The Battle of Salamis ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Two)

Masterlist

A/N: Acacius is STRESSIN! Protective daddy Acacius has my heart though- also I know an extra seat doesn't fit between the thrones in the movie but in this fic it does!

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla & Geta x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Inaccurate sharks, argument reader/acacius, crumbling relationships, blood/battle, mentions of whores, depraved fantasies of hot sexy gingers (+18 themes), subtle flirting and touching.

Summary: The twin emperors obsession with you grows and no one will stop them from getting what they want, not even a General.

Word count: 3.1k

Geta and Caracalla were both seated on their luxurious settee, watching as two concubines pulled their garments slowly off each other. Neither emperor could focus or enjoy much of the show however. Their minds were filled with the General's daughter, Geta could only think about how beautiful your curves looked, and your lips, oh how sweet they would taste.

Caracalla imagined your breasts and how he could nip and suck at them while you whined for more. He was hard at the thought, a daydream in his mind riling him up more than the plain looking concubines undressing in front of him. Geta felt only irritation simmer at the sight of the now naked bodies, before he met Acacius’ daughter, this would’ve got him going.

But now, all he could think about was how much prettier you were, more innocent, higher status and liked by the people. The two in front of him were just bodies and nothing more. Geta and Caracalla were so far sunken in their daydreams they didn’t hear the female concubines question. “Your majesty? What would you like us to do?” 

Geta snapped back into focus, with one glance at his twin, he could tell Caracalla had the same thing on his mind. “Get out.” The girls looked confused. “Caesar?” Caracalla’s frustration grew. “Get out now!” The whores scrambled their clothes together before hurrying out of the room. “Why are they so- plain, all of a sudden?” Geta said while rubbing his temples.

His brother agreed, then, they shared a look. “How about that other one brother, she looks the most- like her.” Geta grinned, Caracalla ordered one of the Praetorians to bring in the other whore. “We’ll share her. You her mouth, I her cunt.” Caracalla giggled at his brother's words. If they couldn’t have you, they would pretend, for now. 

Macrinus didn’t stay too long, and for some reason Lucilla refused to tell you about why he was visiting. Something you did know however was that Macrinus was not the man he made himself out to be. By the time he left, you were tired and spent the evening in your room reading some scrolls about the creation of Rome. And when you were too tired, you closed your eyes, dreaming of them. 

The next morning you were eating some bread and fruits with your father and Lucilla. He still hadn’t spoken to you much, only when necessary. Even though you somewhat understood his frustration about the emperors, you didn’t see why he made this about you. “Father?” Acacius hummed in response. “Are you going to speak to me or ignore me the whole of the games?” Lucilla looked at him with worry in her eyes. 

Did something happen you did not know of? He sighed and put down the chunk of bread he was chewing on. This time the servants were not around. “I don’t like the way the emperors involve you in their sick games.” You looked at him confused. He shared a look with Lucilla before speaking again. “I want you to be safe, the more you are around the emperors, the less safe you are.” You scoffed at him.

“Oh please father, why would they hurt me? I didn’t do anything wrong and they seem to tolerate me, so I don’t understand why you are this concerned.” Acacius seemed to want to tell you something but he stopped himself. “The emperors are- irrational, and headstrong. If they want something, they will get it.” Lucilla answered for him in a softer voice.

“So?” You shrugged. “They do in fact seem to like you, more than they should.” Your father gruffed out. “How is this a bad thing?” You almost blushed at hearing his words, in the back of your mind you knew the emperors were bad men, with horrible intentions but they looked so good while doing it.

“I realize that you don’t know much yet, about men. And the ways of...marriage.” Lucilla explained, “If they decide that one of them would marry you, then we can’t protect you, unless we hide you but that would be difficult.” Your brows furrowed. “I would like you to stay home today, is the point.” Acacius urged.

“What? No! I want to go! I want to see the battle that is supposed to take place today!” Your father was taken by surprise at your defiance, his little girl that did as he asked with no questions was clearly no longer residing in you. “No. Do not go against me. I am your father and you will do as I say.” 

“But-” Lucilla took your hand and took you to the gardens. “Please, let me come with you, I want to go.” Lucilla set you down on one of the stone benches, “Listen to me, it will be alright. I promise, I cannot say more but soon you will see.” You couldn’t believe it, usually your step-mother was a lot more lenient, so why was she so insisting now? 

You paced around angrily in the garden while your father and Lucilla left for the games. Mauling over why they were being so difficult, they obviously didn’t want you near the emperors, but what if you wanted to be? And what if they wanted you to? Surely their word goes above the generals?

Macrinus once again met Lucilla and Acacius at the colosseum, his eyes darting around, he noticed that someone was missing. “General, good day to you. Your daughter is not with you today?” Lucilla clasped her husband's hand, his irritation already clear as day. “No, she was quite tired, so we left her to rest at home.” Macrinus hummed in response. “Well, follow me then.” He said, leading Acacius and Lucilla up the stairs. 

Reaching the top, the emperors were already standing there. “Your majesties.” General Acacius bowed, Lucilla matching him. Geta and Caracalla both looked past their shoulders and Lucilla could feel Acacius tense up. “Where is she?” Caracalla asked, Dondas nibbling on his hair.

“If you are referring to my daughter, she is at home, resting. Caesar.” He tried his best to sound as respectful as possible but he was fearing the worst. “Why? She should be here. The naval battle we have for today is something she must witness.” Geta too tried to sound kind, but his disappointment was obvious. “She was quite tired from yesterday, your majesty.” Lucilla tried to cut their conversation off but she had a feeling they would not let it go.

“Nonsense, she should be here,” Geta then gestured for Macrinus to come closer, “Fetch her, she wouldn’t want to miss this.” Macrinus nodded before gesturing for some guards to follow him. “I guess we will have to wait a bit longer, General, but no matter, I am sure this mistake, will not happen again.” Geta stated. Acacius did not trust himself to speak, giving the emperor a curt nod instead. 

The orange tree smelled fresh and amazing this time of year, and so with a basket in your hand, you picked them. You needed something to do after your ‘disagreement’ with your father. You had, in this time, slightly admitted to yourself that he was right. You understood why he was so protective of you in this dangerous city, but that didn’t change the little crush you had on the emperors. 

How could you not? Not only were they handsome but they dressed well and smelled surprisingly nice with all the essential oils they probably used in their baths. But the power and might they showed, now that was attractive. You wanted to know them better, wanted to know what they were like when left alone. Would they still be as vicious and ruthless- or softer and kind?

Being unmarried also meant that you didn’t really know what that entailed, but you wanted to. In the later years while you were blossoming, your father had received some critique for not having married you off yet. However you knew why, he wasn’t around much but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He wanted you safe and at the one place where he could always protect you. 

An orange fell out of your hand as you tried to pick two, when you picked it up, you heard raised voices from the courtyard of the estate, which was only one wall away. Your heart rate picked up when the door leading to the garden you were standing in, opened. Four Praetorians came into view, as well as Macrinus. “My Lady, I did not mean to frighten you, the emperors have simply requested your presence at the games. Would you come with us?” 

“Of course, let me bring this to one of our servants and I will gladly join you.” You said while referring to the orange filled basket. He nodded and let you walk past him so you could have the oranges sent to the kitchen. You did not expect for the emperors to send guards to get you but that made your improper crush grow. Maybe you wanted them to like you, would that really be so wrong?

When you arrived at the colosseum, there was no crowd. Following Macrinus once more, you soon reached the last step and were met with the emperors. Geta stepped forward, took your hand and kissed the back of it. “My lady, welcome, how good of you to make it.” You blushed at his words, and curtseyed. Caracalla was the one who led you to your seat, which was still placed between the emperor's thrones. Avoiding your father’s stare- you followed Caracalla.

Once you were seated, the speaker was given the signal to begin. “In the name of Poseidon! We celebrate the glory of naval war! Today we relive the battle of Salamis! The Trojans versus the Persians!” You watched as a large ship entered the now water submerged arena, sharks could be seen swimming around and you did not want to imagine what would happen if one of the gladiators fell in the water. 

Then another gate opened and a second ship emerged, this ship looked like it belonged to the Trojans while the first one belonged to the Persians. You could hear Caracalla’s feet tap excitedly beside you, while Geta shifted in his seat. The ships had only just started to sail towards each other when flaming arrows were released by the Trojans. Two of the arrows hit the Persians’ ships sail, which quickly caught fire, sending huge clouds of black smoke in the air.

Many Persians already collapsed when hit by arrows, making it seem like the Trojans could easily defeat them. You could see how men fell overboard in the water, seconds later the water would turn red with their blood, attracting the sharks. When the Persian ship seemed to head straight into the Trojan ship, it turned, causing the Trojan ship to lose its entire left side of oars. 

You shifted in your seat as the ships seemed to slowly come closer, Geta grinned widely at you however and you courteously returned a smile. “This is war! Real war!” Caracalla yelled excitedly next to you. Your excitement started to fade however, the sail on fire, the Trojans actively losing and the ships slowly coming closer while you were front row made you incredibly nervous.

You decided to stay calm, surely if something happened the Praetorians would step in? But when the Persian ship had turned to fully face the Trojan ship, you couldn’t help but feel panic start to take over. They increased their speed and head-on rammed the Trojan ship, causing it to almost fully split in half. Because of the impact, both ships headed straight to the emperor's box. 

Your hands clasped tightly at your toga when the Persians jumped on the Trojan ship, right in front of you. Now your terror was too much to bear- you had to say something. “Your majesty, I don’t think this is safe-” Before you could say anything else an arrow shot what seemed like millimetres past you- right into the side of your seat. Then your eyes met with the man who shot it- Hanno. Hands grabbed your waist, lifting you out of your seat, you could hear Geta scream for Praetorians, your eyes met your fathers as he pulled you away from the box, Lucilla and the two emperor's right behind you. 

When you were safely out of reach from the gladiators, you still felt like you couldn’t breathe or move. “Are you alright?” Your father crouched before you, taking your hands in his. You could only nod. “Who shot the arrow! Who?!” Caracalla screamed. “H-hanno- I believe it was Hanno Caesar.” You said. “It was him, I saw it too.” Your father said. “He got shoved, he could have never meant to shoot you dear.” Lucilla then said. 

How was it not meant for you? The man looked straight at you before he shot, had he not been pushed- you would be dead. “Maybe- I really do not know.” Geta did not seem pleased with your answer. “I will think about what to do with him, he can not get away with this.” He seethed. It was then you noticed Lucilla’s pleading eyes towards your father. 

At this point you had realized something was going on that you did not know about, but if you actually wanted to know what that was- was a whole other question. The emperors must have felt some sort of sympathy as they invited you, your father and Lucilla to wine and food at the palace, which your father reluctantly agreed to. A carriage took the emperors to the palace, while your father, you and Lucilla took your own, following behind them.

Palatine Hill must have been one of the most beautiful buildings in Rome, it screamed power and wealth. The whole time you were led inside, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks to look around from time to time. When you had reached one of the larger entertainment halls, you felt somewhat safe again while sitting next to your father. As time passed, wine flowed and some musicians were summoned to entertain the emperors.

You listened to the beautiful music, occasionally glancing at the emperors on their settee not far away from you. Lucilla was speaking lowly to your father when emperor Geta spoke up. “My Lady, join my side, I would like to speak with you.” That certainly caught your fathers attention, you stood from the settee you had shared with your parents and walked over to the already grinning emperors. Geta patted the spot beside him, so you were between them once again- right where they wanted you.

As you sat down, Geta already leaned a bit towards you while Caracalla shamelessly stared at your covered breasts. You could tell Lucilla tried to distract your father with conversation again but if it was much help, you did not know. “I hope you are not too distraught over what occurred earlier today.” Geta whispered in your ear, his voice so close and low it made an unfamiliar heat pool in your belly. 

“No your majesty, your invitation to spend time with you here certainly helped, as did the wine.” Caracalla giggled beside you and Geta smiled. It made your heart beat faster- pleasing them. Caracalla then called Dondas over, or rather the slave that held him, and took Dondas in his lap. Geta noticed how your smile grew bigger at the sight of the cute monkey, Caracalla noticed too. “Would you like to hold him? I know he is already fond of you.” He mused.

“Please, I would love to Caesar.” He liked hearing you say please more than he should and  only nudged Dondas a tiny bit towards you before the monkey jumped into your lap. His tiny hands clasping your toga. You couldn’t help the soft laugh escaping you, to which Caracalla saw an opportunity. “Here, you know what he likes? To sit on your shoulder.” The emperor said before letting his hands roam over your upper arm, then innocently placing the monkey on your shoulder, letting his hand slide back down your arm again.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of him touching you, the smallest skin to skin contact made goosebumps ripple over the area he grazed. Dondas sat cluelessly on your shoulder, inspecting your hair. Caracalla got exactly the reaction he wanted, looking at Geta with a mischievous smile which Geta returned. Their obsession only grew as they now got the confirmation they needed- you were entirely oblivious to their ambitions. 

You played with Dondas for a while, Geta even handing you some fruit to feed to him, making sure to let his hands linger on yours. On the other settee it was less cheerful, Acacius felt powerless as he watched how his daughter swooned over the emperors he hated so much. This is exactly what he wanted to prevent, he knew he couldn’t do anything if his daughter married one of them, then it would be too late. You would be in too much danger. All attempts Lucilla made to ease his tension were unsuccessful, at some point she had him calmer, and made him focus on a conversation with her. 

Everytime one of the emperors ‘innocently’ touched you, it sent sparks through your body, never had you felt this way around men. But they opened a whole new world for you, and you wanted to explore every single inch of it. When you handed Dondas back to Caracalla, Acacius saw a window, an opportunity to leave. “My emperors, we really should be heading back home-”

“Why? Can’t you see we are having a nice conversation General?” The music abruptly stopped at Emperor Geta’s words. You looked at your father with pleading eyes, ‘please don’t upset them’. “My apologies, it is just that Lucilla is feeling a bit dizzy from the wine.” Lucilla looked down at her husband's words- knowing it was a lie. The evening grew darker but you had no intention of leaving as long as the emperors still wanted you here.

“Ah, I understand.” Geta said, his mood change was almost horrifying but at least he seemed composed again. Caracalla grumbled something beside you, but you couldn’t quite make it out. “Praetorians, take them back to their estate.” Geta commanded, while standing up. You stood up as well, your father and Lucilla already heading towards the door. But Caracalla stopped you before you could walk away. 

“We had so much fun this evening, didn’t we?” You smiled at his words. “Yes your majesty, at least I did, very much.” The truth was, you hadn’t had so much fun and excitement in ages. “Good, good.” Geta interjected. “You must return then, so we can continue our- enjoyment.” Red dusted your cheeks and you nodded. “It would be an honor as well as a delight to spend time with both of you again Caesars.” You bowed your head. The evening was over way too soon.

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 3

Chapter three - Raspberry

Chapter 1 II Chapter 2

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Sorry it took so long to update this. I tagged everyone who showed interest in future parts and/or asked to be tagged. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

Jamie sleeps like a rock. It’s a new discovery for (Y/N) as she tries to unravel herself from his tight grip. She doesn’t remember falling asleep cuddled up to each other, in fact, she doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. It’s like one moment they were talking about the baby and the next she wakes up to the sun pouring in through the window and Jamie’s quiet snores filling the room. And his arms wrapped around her like a vice. 

God that man is clingy. 

And, whereas with any other man, this would scare her off, there is something about Jamie that makes the whole thing endearing.

Maybe it’s the fact that they are not dating, not even trying to. It takes some of the pressure off. All she has to be is a good mum and a good friend and while those two things are hard enough as they are, at least there are no romantic feelings involved, no expectations to uphold when it comes to being a girlfriend, a partner. 

Jamie sleeps like a rock, doesn’t even so much as twitch when she slips from his grip and rests his arm back on the side of the bed she used to occupy just moments earlier. Even the squeaky floorboard doesn’t wake him as she makes her way downstairs. 

A sweet smell permeates the air and makes (Y/N)’s mouth water. This heightened sense of smell is both a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse. Most smells make her nauseous these days. Not today though, this one just makes her hungry. It smells of sugar and vanilla and all things sweet and warm.

Simon’s smiling face greets her as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. She wonders if this man ever stops smiling. He’s the personification of a ray of sunshine.

“Good morning, come have a seat. I’m making waffles.” 

Waffles. (Y/N) can’t remember the last time someone made her waffles for breakfast. Dad did, sometimes when she was little, and stayed with him for the weekend. But then the waffle iron broke and he never got around to buying a new one. So pancakes and bacon it was. Beans sometimes. Sausages if he was feeling particularly fancy.

“I’d love some, thank you! It smells amazing.” 

“Yeah? Oh, thank god. I was afraid the smell would be too much and make you feel sick. Only realized that after I poured in half the vial of vanilla essence though.” 

The sheepish look on his face puts a smile on (Y/N)’s face. It’s nice someone cares about those little things.

“Never had to deal with anyone pregnant so I don’t know these things but I had a quick Google last night and it says 8 weeks means a heightened sense of smell. Also, the baby is the size of a Raspberry.” 

If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would swear that Jamie and Simon must share some DNA. Both of them so clumsy in the way they care but infinitely endearing. 

“Yeah, Raspberry or Blueberry or Kidney Bean. So tiny." 

“Crazy isn’t it? To think it’s gonna be a proper human soon enough.” 

She nods her head in agreement as Simon places a plate stacked with two thick fluffy waffles before her. 

“You’re telling me. I know this is all happening inside my body and it’s still insane to think about. Doesn’t feel real.” 

Simon regards her with soft eyes. There is warmth in there but something else. Something she can’t quite place. Georgie had the same look last night. Like they know more than she does. And fuck, maybe they do. They’ve done this before. Lived enough of life to know what the hell they are doing. 

“Are you alright? “

(Y/N) was never big on sharing her feelings with anyone, let alone strangers. Life, and both her parents really, have taught her that talking about your feelings only makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable usually ends in pain. So what you do is you take your insecurities, your fears, your sadness and you put it in a tiny little box and then you put on the lid. You tie a ribbon around it with a neat bow on top and then you take that box that holds your feelings and you bury it. And then you spend your whole life living like the protagonist in an Edgar Allan Poe story and that box becomes a beating heart under the floorboards of your life. 

And the beating never ever stops. 

“Sure. I’m good.” 

She thinks he knows she’s bluffing but lets it go anyway. Opening up to Jamie is scary enough, takes up enough of her bravery. Simon is lovely and if she was another person altogether she’d love to share her worries with him, he seems like the best listener. She’s not someone else though, she is just herself and she can’t bring herself to talk. 

“Okay. Just want you to know that if you need anything or — anyone. Georgie and I are always there to help. I know I’m not Jamie’s real dad but I do feel like that is my son. I don’t have children of my own and I only met Jamie when he was a pre-teen already so I don’t know much about babies but if you guys let me I am sure I can be a phenomenal grandad. My mum always used to say I was already born a little old man so this feels like I finally get a chance to be what I was always supposed to be. My time to shine has come.” 

A harmony of their laughter fills the kitchen. God, is this whole family made up of the sweetest people on this entire planet? Do they make them in a damn factory or something?

“I will hold you to it. When the baby is screaming and I need some sleep I’ll come drop them off with you then.” 

“Oh, I’ll be ready with some bedtime stories and lullabies.” 

“You are sweet, Simon. And I really appreciate the offer. God knows Jamie and I don’t know the first thing about being parents so we can take all the help we can get.” 

“Do you want to hear a secret?” 

“Sure.” 

“No one knows what they’re doing. As long as you try your best that’s all that matters. Kids are forgiving if they know you care.” 

People always say that but there’s a little part of (Y/N) that believes those words to be untrue. Did her mum try her best and this was the outcome? Or did she just not care to do more, to be better? And which of those scenarios would be worse? 

Jamie’s sleepy voice pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. “Morning, love.” 

He places a soft kiss on the top of her head. So sure, so unbothered as if they do this all the time. Is this what it feels like? Being able to show your feelings and show affection without wondering what consequences it may bring? Without fearing that it makes you too vulnerable? 

His hand finds her stomach and gives it a soft rub “And good morning to you, baby.” 

It will never not be endearing to her to hear him talk to the baby. And neither will the way he pronounces the word ever lose its magic to her. That is his pride and joy there. His babeh. 

“Aw Waffles, sweet!” 

As Jamie plops down next to Simon and stuffs his face with vanilla waffles, leaving a slight dust of powdered sugar on his lips, (Y/N) is certain that all his worries are unjustified. 

Jamie is all his dad and none of his father. Every inch and every fiber of him is a product of the love that Georgie and Simon have raised him with. He is them in the way he smiles and cares and the way he feels joy so freely and unabashedly.

And if only a smidge, only a sprinkle of that love is extended towards her child, that kid is gonna grow up so adored it won’t know where to put all of that love. 

“Think I’m gonna throw up.” 

“Like pregnancy barf or meeting mum nausea? “

Leave it to Jamie to put a smile on her face even when the world around her seems to crumble and fall. 

“You gotta stop calling it that.” 

“Alright, but you have to tell me which one it is so I know if I should hand you a barf bag or give you a pep talk. I’m getting awfully good at them if I dare say so myself. Learned a lot from Ted, yeah?” 

If this was just the pregnancy making her nauseous everything would be so much easier. Ginger drops and rest would do the trick. But this is so much worse. This sharp feeling cursing through her veins, gnawing at her bones and devouring her like a hungry wolf. There truly is no one capable of breaking your heart like your own mother.

“Let me hear that pep talk then.” 

As he navigates the car up the long driveway, flanked by big ornate mansions with brass iron fences and perfectly symmetrical hedges, Jamie regards (Y/N) from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, well you don’t need to worry. Things are gonna be just fine. You know why?” 

“Why?” 

“Cause mums love me and middle-aged women love me. It’s cause they think I’m charming,” he says and glances at (Y/N) for a second. That radiant cheeky smile of his taking over his features. Oh, she hopes their kid gets his smile. “Which I am.” 

“So charming, really.” 

“You’d know,” Jamie replies and nods his head in the direction of her belly.

His laughter echoes through the car as she gives him a soft slap against the shoulder. There’s just something about Jamie that makes life feel a little lighter, a little more effortless. Even if it's just for a moment, just pretend. It does take the heavy weight off of (Y/N)’s heart for a second. 

The car rolls to a stop in front of the gorgeous white house (Y/N) pointed out to him when they turned into the street. The lawn looks immaculate, the hedges are trimmed to perfection. This plastic palace all grand and gaudy. It never felt like home even though (Y/N) spent most of her life growing up in these very halls. 

But really what is it that makes a house a home? Love and laughter and memories you want to return to. This is just four walls and a roof. 

“Hey,” Jamie speaks up and places a hand gently on hers. “It’ll be alright but even if it won’t it will.” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean — look if she reacts badly, that sucks. But you have me, yeah? Always. Me and Rebecca and my Mum and Simon. Once we tell them I know the team will be obsessed with our baby, they’ll love her so much.” 

“Or him.” 

“Or him, yes. Ted is going to freak out, I know he’s going to want to hang out with our kid all the time. Roy? He’s already the best old geriatric uncle the world has ever seen. He won’t admit it but he’ll be really happy for us. Sam, Issac, Keeley, Higgins? All of them will be just a call away if we need help. I’m not sure about coach Beard though, he scares me not gonna lie.” 

“I think he’s hilarious actually.” 

“It’s because you’re smart and understand his jokes.” 

“You’re smart too!” 

“Nah, I just talk a lot and hope I end up saying the right thing. Anyway, what I mean is, this is your mum, yes, but in the big picture, she is just one person. And if she doesn’t love our baby there are so many other people who will. This baby will never, not for one second have to wonder if they are loved, because they are. So much.” 

And as easy as it is for him to make (Y/N) laugh, as easy it seems to be to make her cry. Good tears though. Tears that say “I believe you that things are going to be alright”. Tears that say “thank you.”

“Jamie Tartt, of all the footballers that could’ve accidentally knocked me up, I am so glad it was you. You are going to be the best dad.” 

“And you’re already the best mum. Well tied with my mum, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” 

(Y/N)’s childhood home feels cold, Jamie notices. There are hardly any pictures and those that are there are posed and awkward. He can tell it’s (Y/N) on those pictures but they don’t feel like her. There is no happiness in them, no joy. None of that sarcastic charm she exudes. He passes by a lifetime of being told how to sit and how to smile and what to do and probably what to say as well. It makes him feel miserable. And it puts things into perspective. It makes sense now, her worries and fears. If you grow up surrounded by nothing but the cold you eventually start wondering if you’ll ever be capable of creating warmth.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” (Y/N)'s Mum asks as she sits down at the head of the table. There’s something scary about this woman. She demands attention like a god-given right. She extends nothing in return. Her eyes are sharp and intense. It makes Jamie feel like she can see right through him down to all his insecurities and faults. She’s fucking terrifying. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

He hates the way (Y/N)’s voice has become so small and timid ever since they stepped foot into this mansion. Hates that there is nothing he can do to make it better and take this weight off of her. Nothing but be there. So he does that at least. Be there in all the ways he can be.

It’s so silly really, how his heart beats just a little faster when he touches her hand underneath the table. When she welcomes the soft gesture. When she returns his gentle squeeze. And when she links her fingers with his. 

So silly. Stupid little treacherous heart.

“Well, I gathered that much. I just wish you would’ve called ahead of time so I could’ve made some food.” 

“Made some food? Since when do you cook?”

The look her mother throws at (Y/N) could freeze a lake solid. It’s mean and chilling and Jamie wishes he never would’ve pushed (Y/N) to come here. Hates himself a little for putting her in this situation.

“I did attend several cooking classes last year. See, if you’d visit me a bit more often you’d know that.” 

And if she wasn’t such a raging bitch, maybe (Y/N) would visit her more often, Jamie thinks. Fortunately, he’s gotten much better at impulse control lately, well ever since Ted arrived really. The old Jamie would’ve blurted out those thoughts with no care of any consequences.

The old Jamie probably wouldn’t have stepped up to be a dad though. 

“Anyway, I would’ve liked a little warning. Especially if you’re bringing someone.” 

Being at the receiving end of that icy glare feels awful, Jamie decides as (Y/N)’s mother regards him with a mix of disdain and humor. Her eyes sparkle with a sense of smug superiority. Jamie is used to people underestimating him. They think he’s stupid. Some dumb footballer with straw filling the places where a brain should be. Quite honestly it doesn’t bother him, never had. He’s the first to admit that he can be dumb when it comes to certain things. He’s no poet and he has never been particularly good at math. But this woman and the way she looks at him rubs him the wrong way. She knows nothing about him and yet she thinks she’s got him all figured out. Flesh and bones and all. 

“Yeah uh, sorry about that. It was a spontaneous thing really. We would’ve called — “

“Sure, whatever you say. James was it?” 

His name sounds like venom dripping from her lips. James. He hasn’t been James since the moment he was born and Georgie first kissed his tiny head and whispered “You’re my little Jamie.” Not that he remembers that but it’s a story his mom has recounted to him many times.

“Jamie, yes.” 

“Right, Jamie.”

An uncomfortable silence settles upon the room. It crawls into the cracks and crevices of their conversation. It spreads and festers and discomfort grows around them like mold on damp walls. 

“Mum, we’re here because I wanted to tell you I’m pregnant.” 

The confession shoots through the silence like a bullet. Cuts through it like a knife through a flimsy ribbon. If this was a movie they’d put in a freeze frame or underlay the scene with some dramatic musical score. But this is real life and it comes with no editing and no soundtrack.

No, it just comes with a bellowing laugh from (Y/N)’s mother. It’s not the kind of laughter that makes you want to laugh along. The kind that makes you feel like sunshine has erupted inside your ribcage and wraps you in a warm blanket. It’s not like (Y/N)’s laugh. This one is mocking. It’s ridiculous. It’s meant to make you feel small and dumb. It breaks his heart to know this is the laughter (Y/N) grew up with. 

“You can not be serious. Pregnant?” 

A short, quiet “Yes.” leaves (Y/N)’s lips. Jamie gently squeezes her hand in return. I am here. He says. I will always be here. She squeezes back. He hopes it means “I know.”

“You stupid little girl.” 

(Y/N)’s hand grabs his more tightly. A lifeline to hold on to. Crescent moon shapes stamped into his skin. But if this is the price he’ll have to pay in order to be a good partner in all of this then he’ll pay it 10 times over. Of all the things in this world, all the ways to describe her, stupid is not one Jamie would ever think of. 

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” 

Maybe a little bit of old Jamie is still there. The good parts. The protective, opinionated parts maybe. Not reckless but brave.

“She is my daughter and I will talk to her as I very well please. But you’re right. She is not a little girl, she’s a grown woman. Which makes this even worse. You should know better, (Y/N). Getting pregnant by some — some guy.”

“Some guy? Excuse me?” 

“Well you’re not her boyfriend, are you? You are just some guy with no obligation to her. And if you wake up one day and realize what a massive mistake you made then you can just leave. She’ll be stuck being a mother forever.” 

It boils his blood to hear those vicious words hurled at him and (Y/N). Mistake? Sure this baby wasn’t planned but they’re not a mistake. Not for one single second did Jamie think of his child as a mistake. A surprise. A shock even. But never a mistake.

“I know you don’t know me and quite honestly I don’t think I want to know you either but I can tell you one thing. That is my baby and I love it now and I will always love it. It is not a mistake. You can judge me, you can judge her and you can judge our decisions but stop talking about my child like that. That is just uncalled for. I know my word doesn’t mean anything to you but I was here from the moment (Y/N) told me she was pregnant and I will be here for the rest of my life. That is a promise.” 

She has the audacity to scoff at him and completely ignore everything he just said. Instead, she moves her cold hard gaze towards (Y/N).

“What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Well, you’re not getting those here. Your father would be so — “ 

Before she can finish the sentence a shrill screeching sound cuts her off as (Y/N) pushes away from the dining table.

“I gotta get out of here.” 

“Oh, what is this now? You’re just going to leave because you don’t get the reaction you hoped for? I can pretend if that’s what you want me to —”

“Mum, I am not running. I need to go! I am nauseous as fuck and if you don’t want me to empty my stomach onto your dining table just let me leave. I didn’t come here asking for your approval, I just thought you should know you’re going to be a grandmother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw up in your bushes.” 

Jamie is hot on her heels, grabbing both their jackets and (Y/N)’s bag in the process as he rushes after her. Though even in the chaos and hurry he doesn’t miss the look of absolute shock and bewilderment on the older woman’s face. It feels like a small victory but it does paint a little smile on his lips.

“Oh don’t do that. I’m disgusting.” 

“I’ll be watching you push out a whole damn baby. This is nothing compared to that.” 

If it weren’t such an absurd situation, that comment probably would’ve sent her spiraling but really it’s the least confusing part of today. Of course, Jamie wants to be around for the birth. Now that he mentioned it, (Y/N) thinks she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he’ll be there. He’s been there for it all so far of course he’ll be there when the baby enters this world.

It’s almost a little dreamy and magical to think about. Almost. Because life doesn’t let her think too much about it before it sends another wave of vomit up her esophagus. 

“I don’t mind holding your hair while you puke, you're growing a whole human it’s the least I can do. But I gotta ask you something.” 

“What’s that?” (Y/N) asks and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater. Desperate times, desperate measures. At least that’s how she tries to justify it to herself.

“Is that hedge purposely cut to look like a dick?” 

He nods towards one of the boxwood trees at the edge of the property that (Y/N) has no doubt her mother hired a gardener to trim and shape and care for. 

“Holy shit, it does.” 

“And cut too. You think your mum knows?” 

And suddenly the nausea is gone and forgotten about and in its place, a flurry of giggles takes over. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jamie asks once they both calm down a little.

Is she okay? Not really but this too will pass and it’s not like she expected anything else from her mother. Ever since (Y/N) was a little kid she remembers her mother dulling all her joy and whimsy. Why should things be different now? 

“No. But I will be.” and when he takes her hand in his and places a soft kiss on her knuckles, for the first time since turning into this very street, she truly believes in those words.

“Good. Now do you wanna go home or do something else?” 

“Home sounds good but uh — do you want to stay? Watch a movie or something? I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

Another kiss to her knuckles sends her heart into a little frenzy. Teeny tiny somersaults all around her ribcage.

“Yeah, can I pick? “

“Fuck no.”

“Alright, was worth a try.”

“It was a dream? That’s it?”

The ending credits to The Wizard of Oz play on her little TV screen as (Y/N) and Jamie sit on her couch, a bowl of microwave popcorn long devoured and now empty resting between them.

“I mean, you can interpret it however you want.” 

“Meh, didn’t like that one very much. Next time we should watch the Muppets treasure island. That’s a good one.” 

There truly is something so sweetly endearing about Jamie’s childlike qualities. His unintentional goofiness and his ability to make even the worst day turn into an okay one. An “all in all kinda good” one.

“Okay, fine. Next time we’ll watch the Muppets. It just — my dad had the Wizard of Oz on DVD. One of the few movies he had. So whenever I’d stay with him we’d watch it together. I think I just wanted to feel close to him today.” 

“Hey,” Jamie chimes up and gently nudges her shoulder with his. “I didn’t know your dad but from what you said about him he seemed like a fun guy. A good guy. So I think your mum is wrong. He’d be proud of you. I know that.”

And for the second time that day (Y/N) thanks whatever cosmic power there is for putting Jamie in her life. For making him the person who goes through all of this alongside her. For making him her partner in this crazy adventure. For making him the father of her child.

“Thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate that you stood up for me and the baby. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just froze. Every time I talk to her I want to say so many things but they get stuck somewhere on the way from my brain to my mouth.” 

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s like that with my dad too. We’ll just have to be each other’s voices then I guess.” 

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” 

He does it again then, that tiny insignificant kiss on the top of her head. It means nothing.

But it means everything.

“Hey uh — I’m not really tired yet. Do you wanna start that Muppets movie now?”

“Uh yeah? Absolutely. I’ll never say no to Kermit. He is THE frog.” 

Just a little while later, while Kermit and Miss Piggy sing a love song on screen while hanging off a cliff, (Y/N)’s eyes fall shut, her head resting gently against Jamie’s shoulder. 

For the second time in less than 24 hours (Y/N) falls asleep in Jamie’s arms. And though she might not realize it right then, she has never felt more safe and secure ever before.

Maybe things really will be alright.

“Now I know that life can take you by surprise, And sweep you off your feet. Did this happen to us, Or are we just dreaming? Love led us here.”

@captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy - @zbeez-outlet - @burnafter-reading - @britbratface - @labellapeaky - @mavisvermillion-first - @ladygrey03 - @charlesgirl16 - @cantbecreative - @nerdgirljen - @qardasngan - @confessionsofatotaldramaslut

[folkwhoredoll]

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[chxrrydrxp]

ok so i'm so in with your theme rn and i loved your after car with jason drabble but what i really came here to say imagine poor jason todd realizes he's in love in dick's girlfriend. he doesn't say anything but he knows he can treat you better and be better for you. he knows dick cares about you but he's bad for you because he'll never fully love you but believes he can. so he watches you from afar, trying to sweet in small ways like helping fixing your car and stuff. he watches you and dick fight, break up and of course make up till the point he's fed up of watching dick play you because he's knows dicks cheating and he knows dick isn't trying to hurt you but its not fair. poor jason he doesn't want to be a rebound he just wants to give you the love you deserve.

I'm really about to break jasons pretty heart and staple it back together with this fic. apologies for the wait! I got too excited and decided to write a series about it 🥹

I'll release it chapter by chapter 🤭 and you're a genius I love ur brain 🧠

and fr dick damn near slept with every dc character that man is a whore. I'm still tryna figure out what excuse imma give him for why he is a serial man whore

all jokes aside, I'm gonna have some much fun with this.

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

Jason Todd x (Dick's Ex! Fem!) Reader:

chapter 1

chapter 2

warnings: this series will get heated eventually, and I'll just put a warning on those specified chapters.

this might be a long series, depends how much yall want it 🤭

Loud rain poured against Jason's window. He laid against his dark wood bed frame while reading a book. As he flicked through thin pages, the sound of you and Dick arguing could be heard from across the hall.

He wasn't exactly trying to eavesdrop, but he could make out certain sentences like “why's her name still..’. He sighed, growing more and more tired of the constant back and forth between you two. The conversation slowly moved from the room into the hall, and the argument could almost be heard throughout the whole manor.

“Dick, I cannot do this anymore. I'm tired. I'm tired of being confused about your feelings for me!” He could then hear Dick's annoyingly condescending voice. Another tired sigh escaped Jason's lips as he ran his fingers tiredly through his dark strands. He rolled off the bed, put on a loose white tee, and slipped on black house shoes.

Pulling the door back, he wasn't even noticed by the two of you until his deep voice rumbled through the hall. Even as a quiet, “The hells’ all the commotion, I'm tryna read damn it”, his voice caught your attention. You felt slightly embarrassed. But the anger just wouldn't let up. “Sorry Jason, just go back to your room,” Dick pleaded, leaning against the wall with a frown. Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's continuous attempts to sound like an older brother, and his eyes flickered to yours.

Noticing your red eyes and a tear of anger falling down your cheeks, his jaw relaxed and he almost looked concerned. “You alright?” His soft voice coaxed you out of your bubbling fit of anger. “Yeah...I'm okay…I'm just gonna go home..” Your eyes stuck back to the floor and then you walked away, leaving the two brothers alone. Dick began to walk away, only stopping in his tracks at the mention of his name.

“Dick…you can't keep doin' this man-” Dick spun around shooting a cold glare at him. “Doing what? You think I want to hurt her?” Jason's eyebrows furrowed. “You're not doing a good job of proving me wrong.” Dick walked away.

You dropped your keys on your marble console table, falling onto the couch with a sigh. You knew he wasn't right for you. This cycle of toxicity would go on and on forever unless you stuck your foot in the ground. The repeating doubts about your relationship circled your mind almost daily. You and Dick had been together since late middle school days. You went everywhere with each other and attended every dance together. You were both practically attached at the hip. You had everything in common and could get lost in various topics for hours.

But, that connection had seemed so far away. So long ago. Like a distant memory. The romance in the relationship felt like it was fading, but neither of you was ready to let it go. And it puts a strain on your relationship, even without romance.

You curled up on the soft sofa, bringing your knees to your chest and feeling stinging tears well in your eyes. You knew it was bad for you. God that's all you ever thought about. But it hurt too much to even consider ending things. He was so familiar.

You don't know how much time has passed by of you being stuck in a constant loop of repetitive thoughts, but a knock on your door shook you out of your trance.

“y/n? It's Jason, can I come in?” You quickly wiped your eyes with your shirt and straightened yourself out. “Be right there!” You cringed at that obvious wavering of your voice. You reached the door, opening it slightly so he could only see your upper half. Your head was leaned downward as a half-assed attempt to hide your tear-stained face. “Hey,” was all he said, with a faint sheepish smile. You lazily nodded at him. “Need something?” You'd hoped you didn't sound angry at him. “Well, I came here to ask you the same thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a familiar habit of his. “Come in.”

(yall I cannot think of a title omg)

[inuyashaluver]

would you maybe write a Katie McCabe fic with a reader who’s never really had a relationship before so missed out on all the cliche teenage love moments in their teenager years so now that they’re in a relationship Katie goes out of her way to try and make up for all the things she missed and reader just gets to see a whole new, loving side of Katie.

teenage dream - katie mccabe

katie mccabe x reader

description: in which you’ve never been in a relationship, when you miss out on the lovey dovey moments, your girlfriend helps you out

warnings: fluffy fluffy, swearing

a/n: ahh!! such a cute request, made my heart all fuzzy, thank you, lovely, enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

your girlfriend, katie, is a very. determined. woman. she would do anything for you, without a question, without a second thought, without a doubt, she’s there, and she wants to make sure you know that.

when you stumbled into the arsenal training facility for the first time with your big, curious eyes and sheepish smile, she knew she needed to have you, and that was her plan exactly.

—

you had just been signed to arsenal from sydney fc back in australia. moving to england, specifically to london was one of the scariest thoughts you could muster, leaving everything you knew behind to start a new chapter of your life at just 25.

but thankfully, you had your matildas teammates to help you along the way, fitting in almost immediately and settling into a place you now considered home.

the arsenal girls were your family amongst all the chaos and you truly loved everyone, a particular irish, however, caught your heart more than others.

—

it was one of your first training sessions. you were partnered up with steph, kicking the ball to each other back and forth until she sent the ball way over your head, unfortunately landing right at the back of katie mccabe’s head.

“what the fuck!” she groans, hand cradling the back of her head before turning with a glare to figure out who the culprit was.

only, when she turned around to see your shocked face, she visibly relaxed, offering you a charming smile as you apologised profusely.

“katie, oh my god, i’m so sorry! steph kicked it really hard and then i tried to get it, but it went straight to your head, and then-” you ramble, the words coming out of your mouth faster than your brain could think.

“you know, sweetheart, if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask?” she grins, you blink and look at her in a dazed state, your cheeks lightly dusted with pink as you looked at each other.

she chuckles at your expression, taking a step forward to be directly in front of you.

“o-oh, um” you stutter, she smiles reassuringly but your brain couldn’t comprehend anything coherent at all.

“did you want the ball back?” she asks amusingly, all you can do is nod, katie smiles and places the ball into your hands, purposefully grazing her fingers against yours, she smirks at the way your breath hitched at nothing but a simple graze of your fingers, she loved this.

you thank her softly before rushing over to steph, cupping your flushed face while she looks at you amusingly. you fan yourself and steal little glances at katie only to see she was already analysing your every move. the fluidity of your movements leaving her in a hypnotised state.

you were both driving each other crazy.

—

katie didn’t try to hide her advances on you, the whole team would tease you for your reactions to her flirting and katie relished the whole situation.

she loved that she made you all shy to the point where you couldn’t look at her, even when she was basically doing nothing.

from small gestures of holding the door open for you, handing you your water bottle, helping you put on your tracker, you were a blushing mess. it was even worse when she would shower you with compliments.

“hey, beautiful, i like your boots, or maybe i just like the girl wearing them” she’d call out cheekily from next to you in the change room, “thank you” you say bashfully, making her grin widely as she analysed your face, knowing your brain was malfunctioning.

she’d always spot you in the gym and it was obvious to anyone that the two of you liked each other from every interaction you had.

you’d be training weights and katie would make an effort to linger around you just in case you ‘needed’ help.

“hold on, babe, let me help you” she’d laugh softly, before you even got to attempt to lift the weight off the rack, katie was there behind you with a soft smile.

she’d hover her hands by your sides as you’d squat the weight, giving you encouraging words and smiles that had your body burning.

“two more, darlin’, come on” she cheered, when you finished the set, she grinned happily, “good girl” she praised, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“smashed it, didn’t even need me” she grins, “nah, i did, thanks, katie” you breathe out, smiling at her when she handed you your water bottle with a wink before walking away, leaving you a blushing mess that steph and caitlin were pissing themselves laughing about.

“stunned mullet over here” caitlin teases, you roll your eyes and push her off you when she attempts to kiss your cheek, steph laughs at the two of you as you bicker like kids. you like katie and you were sure of it now.

—

surprisingly, you were the one who made the first move, tired of all her teasing and wanting to take that next step forward. you cornered her after a game one day and she was extremely surprised to say the least.

when you dragged her to the car park by her hand, she interlaced your fingers on instinct and smiled at you affectionately when you squeezed them for comfort.

“katie” you start, “mhm, that’s me, gorgeous” she grins, pulling you slightly closer by your hand.

“i was just wondering if you wanted to..um, i don’t know, go for a coffee or something tomorrow?” you ask nervously, katie was smiling so hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt.

“what, like a date?” she assured, her grin not once dropping at your new found confidence. maybe you were around her too much.

“um, yeah” you mumble, she moves to grab your other hand and pulls you forward, looking at you lovingly. “i’d love to” she kisses your cheek quickly and you try not to let your knees buckle from under you,

“thank you for asking, babe” she places her hand on your bicep and holds it gently, you smile up at her and nod, letting her walk you to her car, departing with a sweet kiss to her cheek that had her stomach swarming with butterflies.

—

when you went to coffee the next day, it was like you’d known each other for years. you were so similar, both of you would talk excitedly about random things while you learnt more about each other.

katie was incredibly respectful, she just did everything right that you couldn’t fault her. she was perfect. she made you feel so incredibly comfortable, she loved that you were so authentically yourself, she loved everything about you.

katie made you so comfortable in fact, about 4 dates in, you’d told her all about your relationship history.

you’d always been in talking stages with people but nothing would ever come of it, she was incredibly understanding and supportive, listening intently to your every word as she caressed your hand for comfort.

in her head, she was planning all the ways she was going to spoil you, to make you giddy in puppy love. she was incredibly determined to give you everything you deserved.

so, when katie asked you to be her girlfriend, she was proud knowing she was your first.

—

when you were at her house cuddling and watching a rom com, you’d expressed mindlessly how you wanted that teenage lovey dovey experience and katie made an immediate mental note to give you that. gently kissing your cheek with a sly grin as you both watched the movie.

the next day, you’d arrived at training to see your locker with little heart sticky notes stuck all over it. you gasp and moved closer, opening up your locker to see a small bouquet of flowers with a little note attached to them,

‘pretty flowers for my pretty girl, from your secret admirer -k’ you were borderline almost in tears over the small gesture, your heart clutching at the thought of her remembering your conversation.

when you went into the change room to find katie chatting to leah, she was left breathless when you rushed over and pulled her into a sweet kiss, letting out a little noise of surprise into your mouth.

she immediately pulled you closer by your hips and smiled into your mouth, you pulled back with a quick peck to her lips.

she smiles brightly when you pull away, you wrap your arms around her neck and tugged her into a hug.

she sways you gently while you thanked her, smiling at leah to see she was recording the two of you with her phone with her own bright grin on her face.

you wouldn’t let go, holding her close to you in an attempt to convey everything you were feeling. she hums at your embrace, her hands gently caressing your waist as she holds you close.

giggling and whispering in your ear as you hold her. you kiss her cheek and part from her reluctantly when you had to change for training.

—

you both had a day off the next day and katie had convinced you to head out on a date. a mini carnival on a sunday afternoon being the location.

you’d walked around hand in hand giggling and chatting amongst the carnival, stopping for photos whenever the two of you were asked.

you both ate carnival food and went on rides, the bright smiles for both of you being the only expressions you’d had all day.

then, katie spotted a photobooth and she immediately dragged you over. there were four photos, katie had you perched up on her lap with her arms wrapped firmly around your middle.

the first photo was the two of you with happy faces with your cheeks smushed together.

one of you kissing katie’s cheek while she closes her eyes in a giggle.

the next one was katie following suit, grabbing your face and jokingly biting your cheek while you laugh.

and the last one, katie pulling you into a loving kiss, the light pink evident on both of your faces.

she grins at you while she watches you look over the photos with a love sick expression.

you really felt like a teenager at this moment, feeling so giddy over the girl, you were so grateful for her.

—

now whenever the two of you are in the gym, katie uses you as the weight, knowing that it made you giggle.

as soon as she saw you in the room, she gestures for you to come closer with her finger, a smirk evident on her face.

“come here, baby” she entices, you roll your eyes amusingly and make your way to where she was sitting. you stand in between her legs with your hands on her shoulders as she held your hips, looking up at you as you brushed away a loose hair that fell from her ponytail.

she only let the embrace happen for a few seconds until she lifts you up bridal style, squatting with your weight like it was nothing. every time she’d get up she’d hoist you up in her arms and you would yell and giggle at the height, holding onto her for dear life even though you know she’d never drop you.

“katie!” you giggle when she peppers your cheek with kisses while she held you, feeling her smile against your skin.

“mhm?” she mumbles, moving to your other cheek and continuing her little kiss attack. you laugh brightly when she moves her lips around your face before she moves to kiss your lips gently, lasting for a few seconds until she put you on the ground.

she smiles satisfyingly at your pink cheeks, making an effort to playfully slap your behind when you bent down to pick up her water.

“easy, mccabe” you taunt, passing her the water with a kiss on her cheek, she chuckles and takes a sip while she winks at you before she helps spot you as usual.

—

everyday with katie offered something new, she absolutely spoilt you with an amount of love you didn’t even know was possible.

it only got more intense when you moved in together, happily and easily calling you cooper’s other mum.

not to say you didn’t spoil her either, you showed your appreciation to katie through simple gestures that she was incredibly grateful for.

there was a lot of love and mutual respect for one another that was obvious to anyone and you both couldn’t be happier.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you! ily beffy

liked by stephcatley and 44,232 others

katie_mccabe11: the missus is pretty cute

view all comments

yourname: mammy katie

↳ katie_mccabe11: mammy (y/n)

leahwilliamsonn: still don’t know how you pulled this one

↳ yourname: luck of the irish

↳ katie_mccabe11: watch it.

[magpiepills]

Bat Presents:

All content below is 18+ and not intended for minors.

Please do not copy, translate, edit, distribute or print my work, in whole or in part. Not for use with AI. This blog is the sole source of my writing. I am not on Wattpad, ao3, or anywhere else. Please read warnings at the beginning of each fic!

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Joel Miller

Only Teasing

Got It Wrong

Taurus

En El Mar

Into The Deep End

Put It In Coach

Made Me Love You (The Bangfest) complete

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Pit Stop extra

Plow

Downward Dog,

Butterfly

Another Kind of Hunger

Airtight

Austin, Texas On A Rainy November Saturday, 2002

Austin, Texas On A Cloudy January Sunday, 2003

Doin’ Time

Like A Boy Does

Take It Easy

Javier Peña

En La Calle

Escritorio

Hard At Work

Aquarius

I’m Not Really A Waitress

DIY

Sweet Tooth

Promises, Promises

Promises Broken

The File Room

Frankie Morales

Honor And Obey

Say It

The Run

Once and Future

The Layover

Ezra

Sagittarius

Kill Shot

Not For Nothing

Code Duello

Coming soon ✨

Dieter Bravo

Here Today

For Her Pleasure

Lucky In Kentucky

But Baby, It’s Art

The Oasis

Marcus Pike

Misunderstood

Dave York

Strange Currencies

Gemini

Din Djarin

A Rite

Marcus Moreno

Girl Lunch

Same Time Next Week

Lucien DeLeon

Watercolor

Make Me

Ted Garcia

Vote For Ted

Silva

Divining Rod

Tim Rockford

God Speed

The Late Shift

Overtime

Mario (snl)

Game Over

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Rope & Ride

Bonus thots

Javier Pena

Marcus Acacius + Lucius & Dieter

Under The Weather HCs

Manus Aureum

Girl Scout Cookie HCs

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 11

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.2k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: with less than two weeks to go until the gala, you're not sure how you're going to make it.

a/n: sorry about that cliffhanger last week 😂 but here we go. Happy holidays, y'all! Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, kissing, Din lifts reader (again but you know), dancing, costumes

Chapter 11

You’d never been more excited for morning classes. 

There was a spring in your step as you walked towards the large classroom. You knew you were smiling – you couldn’t seem to stop. As you neared the door, you bit your lip, thinking of seeing Din inside. Thinking of him made you think of the way he’d kissed you the day before, like it had every few moments since he’d stopped.

You felt a shiver run through your whole body as you sank into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft as they moved against yours. You realized your hands had tangled in his hair without you consciously moving them. His hair was soft, and you tugged at it lightly. He groaned in response and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

He lifted you, suddenly, and you wrapped your legs around his waist easily as he walked towards the barre on the far wall without breaking the kiss. He set you lightly on top of it, still mostly supporting your weight, and pressed tightly against you.

You knew he was wearing a belt, but you could still feel his interest – two sets of tights and a leotard was hardly a barrier, after all. 

His tongue teased against your bottom lip and you met it with your own. Another shiver ran through you at the touch and you felt Din smile against your mouth.

You were startled out of your reverie by an arm dropping around your shoulders. Adrian grinned at you. “Daydreaming, are we?” 

You blinked and realized you were standing outside the door to the classroom, staring off into space. You felt your entire body go hot. “How long have I been standing here?”

He laughed and tugged you forward. “Not long. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who saw.”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” You’d called Adrian the night before as soon as you got home from rehearsal, so he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

“Well, of course you can’t,” he whispered as you crossed the threshold into the classroom. “No one could blame you, not after making out with that specimen of a man over there.” He gestured with his head to the right and you looked over to find Din watching you enter. You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled gently back.

“Oh-ho!” Adrian murmured. “A smile in public! What did you do to that man?”

You grinned and ducked your head before sitting to put on your shoes. “I told you, we agreed – no more of… that until after the gala.”

You and Din had only managed to tear yourselves away from each other the day before when you heard a loud noise in the hall. You’d both realized at the same time that the door was unlocked. After gaining some distance between you and taking a few deep breaths, Din had nervously suggested waiting until after the gala to… see anything through.

I’m so nervous about it already, he’d said, looking at you with hope and anxiety in his expression. I want this. I want… I want you. But can we wait? I need to concentrate on this, and just this. He’d gestured at the studio, and you knew he meant the pas de deux.

You’d said yes, of course. You knew how nervous he was. And it was just two weeks, right? Of course you could wait. He was worth the wait, even if it killed you.

Adrian rolled his eyes as he dropped down next to you. You peeked up and found Din still watching you as he stretched. You bit your lip and noticed he dropped his gaze to watch.

Adrian scoffed. You looked at him, and saw that he was looking between the two of you. “Sure. I totally believe that you’ll keep your hands off each other for two weeks. Two weeks of rehearsals where you have to put your hands all over each other, all the time. Absolutely.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. You elbowed him and he yelped.

“Maybe the tension will help our performance,” you said. It was the same thing you’d told yourself the night before.

He laughed. “Oh it’ll help, alright. Help you set the stage on fire, maybe.” You elbowed him again.

…

In rehearsal with Kuiil that afternoon, one thing became abundantly clear – you were right about the tension. 

From the moment the music started, you could feel it. Your connection was back and stronger than ever before. It was like you’d reached a new level, a new intimacy that you couldn’t access until now. Every touch and glance affected you and you reflected them back to Din. For the first time it felt like you were having a real conversation as you danced. 

At the end of the third movement, you fell into your final position – the two of you curved your bodies into each other and Din’s arms surrounded you slowly. You ducked your head into his neck as you both sank to your knees. 

For a moment, you simply breathed together, and you resisted the urge to kiss his neck.

“Oh, yes! Yes!” Kuiil was ecstatic. Your connection was back, and he praised you both. You leaned back from each other and turned to look at him. “Yes, I was certain you would fix it. Well done, both of you.” His belief in you made you smile. You only hoped he couldn’t tell what the new… source of your connection was. “From here, we clean. And we focus on strengthening the parts that need it. But overall, I want you to focus on the feeling. The choreography is complete – all that is left to do is for you to complete the narrative. And remember – exist in the moment.”

You nodded. You were certain you would be fully present for this dance every time, in every moment. How could you not be, with Din in front of you, waiting to be touched?

As rehearsal continued, a tentative wonder started to fill your chest. It had never felt like this, to dance with another person. Now that you and Din were on the same page, it felt like a real partnership in a way that no choreography ever had before.

You felt like he could read your mind – whenever you reached, he was there. You would take a breath, and he would extend his movement, aligning his breath with yours. He was an echo of you, and you were an echo of him, and somehow you were moving like two parts of the same machine. The same brain.

It was beautiful. 

At the end, Kuiil praised you again, and set out the plan for the remaining rehearsals. He wanted you to include more time working on your solos and more PT and strength training, but not too much.

“I want you at your best, for the performance,” he said, and you both nodded. “We will amaze them. You will see.”

He turned to leave, but Din didn’t move. You looked at him as the door shut behind Kuiil.

“Din…” you said, a bit breathless. “Did you feel it? That was–”

He turned towards you and his eyes were ablaze with emotion. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You were amazing,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. He walked towards you slowly. You froze in place, simply watching him approach. He stopped just inches away and you looked into his eyes, breathless. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

You nodded. You wanted to reach out and touch him but you were afraid you’d be unable to resist him if you did. “Me neither. It was…” you trailed off, looking for the right words.

Din raised one hand and gently cupped your face in his palm. You leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed. “It was beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

You turned your face into his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. You could feel the shudder that ran through his body in response, even through just that single point of contact. He stepped away.

“Two weeks,” he said, voice firm. A promise.

“Two weeks,” you agreed.

He lingered for just a moment and then swept out the door.

…

Those two weeks were, as you’d predicted, torture.

Your dancing had never been better – Kuiil was effusive with praise, and you and Din seemed to be locked in to some deeper understanding that only drove your performance higher and higher. It felt amazing and awe-inspiring. It also felt like maybe it was going to kill you, by the time you got to the gala.

You’d taken to eating lunch with Adrian every day, just to give yourself a bit of a breather between class with Din and rehearsal with Din. Your best friend continued to tease you, and you continued to try to keep your cool as Din tested it.

On Sunday, he sent you a cute picture of Grogu dancing in their living room in front of a YouTube video of Swan Lake. Your heart had skipped a beat at the knowledge that he wanted to share moments like this with you.

On Tuesday, Kuiil had left you to finish practicing on your own, and Din had gathered you in his arms for the final pose and kept you there, just a bit too long. He’d only released you when he felt the hitch in your breath. When you caught his eye, you could see that you were both feeling just a bit too wrecked for what was usual in rehearsal.

On Friday, with one week to go, you finally felt like you’d fallen into a routine that could carry you through the remaining six days until dress rehearsal. 

And then Max brought your costumes by on Saturday for a run through, and you were certain you weren’t going to make it.

Din stepped into the room in the tiniest pair of black shorts you’d ever seen. They had silver stitching in a swirling design that matched his body paint and the black embroidery on your own silver bodysuit, which had skin-colored mesh at the top to make it look strapless and ended in little shorts, too. Your gaze traveled down his chest and then caught on his legs, which you suddenly realized you’d never seen. Not like this, anyway. You swallowed and let your eyes linger on the muscles in his calves and thighs before you dragged your eyes back up to his face.

You realized he still looked a bit nervous, standing barefoot in the room in just his shorts, body on display. His shoulders were drawn in and he had one arm across his chest, holding on to his opposite bicep. But as you met his eyes you realized he hadn’t missed the way you’d just checked him out. 

He was smirking at you. He raised his eyebrows and then let his gaze travel slowly down your body and back up. By the time he met your eyes again, his shoulders had relaxed, and you felt like you were on fire. 

You were glad Kuiil and Max were talking in the corner and that they’d missed everything that just passed between you and Din.

“My dear, how does it feel?” Kuiil called to you and you blinked, turning away from Din. It felt like you were moving through molasses.

“Good,” you said, twisting your torso, and then cleared your throat when your voice came out too quietly. “Good. Should we do a run through?” 

Kuiil and Max both nodded. “Just the third,” said Kuiil. “That will be enough to test it.”

You took a deep breath as you moved to your side of the floor for the start of the third movement. You didn’t look at Din – you needed to focus. But then the music started and you had no choice.

Din’s body was always beautiful, in movement and when he was still. But something about this costume was stoking a fire within you that you’d managed to leave at a slow simmer all week. 

When he caught you in the lift, the one that had brought you together, you barely breathed through the following sequence. As he set you back on your toes, chests pressed together, it took everything within you to continue the choreography and move away from him.

One glance at his face told you he was struggling, too.

When the music ended, and Din was wrapped around you, you felt him raise one hand out of view of Kuiil and Max. He placed it gently on your hip and then squeezed. “This is so beautiful on you,” he murmured, and you sat back on your heels, overwhelmed. His hands slid from around you as you looked up at him where he was still kneeling. His eyes were dark.

“Thank you both,” Max said, popping the bubble that had formed around you within your mind. “I think we might need to rethink the body paint, but we’ll be ready for next week.”

You looked down and noticed that a bit of Din’s paint had transferred to your arms, but somehow not your costume. You nodded.

When you looked up, Din was eyeing those transferred marks intently, and you shivered.

“Thanks, Max,” you said, voice thin. “We’ll just… get changed.”

Thankfully there were no more costume fittings to test your already dwindling strength.

...

prev | next

a/n: 👀

cleaning - I'm sort of assuming this is a widespread term but every teacher I've ever had used it to talk about the small changes and tweaks you make to get ready for a performance. Usually we'd repeat small sections over and over again until it was perfect.

[love-quinn]

— COLLECTORS' GUIDE

summary — you love books, and spencer can't figure out why you don't have a single one inside your apartment. his only solution is, of course, to buy you some.

warnings — swearing, reader has a toxic ex

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!mythical reader

pronouns — none (you/yours)

featuring — spencer agnew, nicole enayati, vianai austin (mentioned), kiana parker (mentioned)

word count — 1.8k

note — as someone who LOVES mythical kitchen i've been toying around with the idea of spencer and someone from that show or even just mythical in general, also she was speaking to me she told me she's a bookworm i don't make the rules sorry. thank you so much for all the love on my last two spencer fics <333 hope you enjoy

LA’s a big city; it’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s busy. Working in the industry you do, you don’t have a whole lot of calmness in your life, which is why you make it your personal mission to make your apartment as soft and cozy as possible. 

You pile your couch with throw blankets and pillows, you have lamps where you can control the brightness, you hang art on the walls and you love it there. You layer your rugs and you keep candles on every shelf. Your apartment is one hundred percent yours, and that’s the reason Spencer likes spending time there as much as he does. 

You and Spencer are a fairly new couple, you’ve only been together a few weeks, and he still can’t quite believe the two of you are together. You work in the Mythical side of the office as a producer and sometimes on-camera for Mythical Kitchen so the two of you see each other fairly often but not every single day.

He likes to think he knows you pretty well – he is your boyfriend. But one of his favorite parts about being in this relationship with you is getting to learn more about you. Neither of you are shooting anything today so he decides to drop by your desk during his lunch break. You’re on yours too, you and Nicole are chatting across your desks, you have half a wrap in one hand and a folded over paperback novel in the other and Spencer brightens at seeing you.

“Hi, babe,” he drops a kiss on your hairline, leaning over and peering at what you’re doing. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go for lunch with me but you seem to have it covered.” 

You tilt your head back to look him in the eye, face lighting up. “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming over here.”

He shrugs, leaning on the back of your chair. Nicole excuses herself to go meet Vi for lunch like they planned and offers Spencer her chair while she’s gone so he doesn’t have to hover. Spencer watches you smile up at her as she leaves and can’t stop the frown from making its way onto his face. 

“You’re not going with them?” From what he knew, the three of you were really good friends, at the very least close coworkers. Seeing Nicole talk about her plans with your mutual friend right in front of you without inviting you felt… not wrong, but definitely weird.

You just shake your head. “No, Thursdays I usually eat by myself, they go out somewhere.” You catch the look on Spencer’s face and amend yourself quickly. “They do invite me, I just prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, I can get a chapter or two in before they get back.”

Spencer looks down at the paperback in your hand again. “What’re you reading?”

You hold it up for him. It’s an older book, with frayed edges and a peeling vinyl cover, a grainy lighthouse on the front. He takes it when you offer it and flicks through it, careful not to disturb the bookmark. “I was gonna take it back to the library on Saturday and get a new one, but I can come over after that?”

Spencer shakes his head, only now just seeing the Los Angeles Public Library sticker on the back cover. “Can I come with you? Unless that’s like, something you wanna do by yourself or whatever? I didn’t know you went to the library.”

You take the book back and put it on your desk, out of the way. You and Spencer have wordlessly begun to split the wrap that you’d packed for lunch, something you’d made at home that made his mouth water. “Yeah, of course you can come. I go most weeks, I try to read a book every week but sometimes, y’know,” you gesture around the office.

That’s how Spencer finds himself on the steps of the LAPL for what he believes to be the first time. He’d been to libraries before, obviously, but not since leaving Florida, and not for a long time. He knows you like to read, there’s often a paperback in your hand or your purse or your car, it’s your quiet time activity. He just assumed you bought your own books, but getting to walk hand in hand with you through the stacks as you browse, he definitely sees the appeal. 

You find your new book of the week and hold it up to him gleefully, and you don’t even have to pull him along to the desk for him to follow you dutifully. Spencer would let you stay in there for hours, gazing lovingly over at you as you talk familiarly with the librarian. 

Eventually, you cut yourself off and excuse yourself to return to your boyfriend, knowing that his ideal weekend plans probably didn’t include letting you drag him around the library. You really like Spencer, you don’t want to hijack all of your time together. 

Spencer hasn’t even considered that. In fact, he is actively planning the next time that the two of you can come back, desperate to see you so happy again. Desperate to make you that happy. 

It becomes almost a routine. The two of you begin your weekend by going out for breakfast somewhere, Spencer follows you around the library and then the two of you go home and spend the rest of the day quietly in one of your apartments. Usually it involves him playing Zelda on the couch with your feet in his lap while you churn through your book.

You fold around each other comfortably. You have your separate friends, your separate jobs (well… technically separate), and your separate hobbies. But as the weeks turn into months, Spencer sinks right into your little oasis in your apartment. 

His clothes end up in your drawers, he starts going in to work with homemade meals that are obviously made by someone who graduated culinary school (i.e, not him). Love pours endlessly out of every crevice, and Spencer feels like he’s drowning in it. Spencer loves his apartment, it’s his home, but as somebody who also loves you he loves your apartment a lot as well.

It feels like every single time he goes over he finds out something new about you and the way you love, which is why he’s not quite so sure why it took him so long to notice the empty shelves in your room.

You’re on your phone, lying on your stomach with your feet by the head of the bed. Spencer is just coming back from the kitchen, your coffee order in his hand when he notices it. “Are you gonna put something on that shelf?”

You look up from your phone to see the shelf he’s gesturing to. Spencer can’t pretend not to notice the way that your face falls. “Uh, sure. I can if you want?”

Spence shrugs as he comes to sit down beside you. You wriggle up so you’re sitting and take the coffee out of his hand. “I don’t care, babe. It’s your room.” He plants a kiss on the side of your face and swiftly moves on. “I just remembered on Saturday I made plans with Kiana, so I’m gonna have to skip the library, I’m sorry.” He does seem genuinely sorry to be missing out on the time spent with you, you deflate subtly.

“That’s totally fine,” you return his kiss. “Tell her I say hi. I’m not done with my current one anyway, so I might just stay home.” You love the library, you spend a lot of time there, but you’re looking forward to a nice morning by yourself at home. Then, you remember the date and groan quietly under your breath. “Never mind, I have to go in to renew it anyway, or else I’ll get another late fee.”

You’d only ever returned a library book late once in your entire life, something that Spencer found completely adorable. Especially so the fact that you viewed it as such a big deal. 

“I guess that’s the price you pay for them being free,” Spencer points out. 

You hum, “I wouldn’t mind having one or two that I get to keep,” you say it so concretely, so nonchalantly. As though it’s not actually something you’re able to do.

“Why don’t you buy a couple?”

You glance over at the empty shelves. “‘Cause it’s like, childish?”

Spencer frowns, sitting up straighter. “Babe, do you think I’m childish?”

You rush to fix your mistake. “No! Of course not, that’s not at all what I meant-”

Spencer takes your hand, putting the empty coffee cup on your nightstand. It’s filled with his things and that makes his heart swell. “No, I know you weren’t calling me childish. But do you think I am?” When you shake your head, he continues. “I have like, video game bullshit all over my place. You’re not childish for having things that you like in your apartment. Plus, books are like the most normal out of all collectibles.” His eyes are deep and sincere and you roll your heels underneath you, moving so your legs are spread out in front of you. “You want books? Buy a million fucking books, babe.”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “I know, it’s… I used to have stuff on that shelf,” you admit. “I had a bunch of books, I’d been collecting some of them since I was a kid and everything. My last boyfriend he, well. Doesn’t matter, long story short, I came home from work one day and they were all gone.”

Spencer is probably the last guy you’d expect to see involved in a fistfight. He’s 5 '6, he loves Hawaiian shirts and there is video evidence of him Fortnite dancing. But more than that, though, he loves you, which is why his first instinct is to go find whoever it was that did that and fuck them up.

“That’s so messed up?” He can’t even wrap his head around it. “Babe, what? No, oh my god.” He can’t even formulate a coherent sentence. You love so liberally, so generously, that the idea that someone had thrown away something you love made him physically sick.

“I’m so sorry that he did that to you, that’s fucked. Not your fault you know how to read and he doesn’t.” That makes you laugh, your chest shaking as you lean into him. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your temple, rubbing your forearm gently. 

He and Kiana have plans on Saturday, and he has no intention of bailing on them, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and texting her, asking if she’d be willing to make another stop with him while they were together.

The next Saturday, you get home from renewing your library book to find your boyfriend waiting out the front of your apartment. He beams at you as you reach him and you don’t have to look inside the box to know that once you stop kissing him you’ll find the beginnings of your next book collection. 

[marleyybluu]

Four and Counting

husband!Oscar Diaz x fem!black!reader

Word count: 4.4k (oops)

Warnings: everything is fluff, the cutest couple alive, another pregnancy, hints at abortion (but supportingly?), Oscar being the cutest fucking husband, self-indulgent asf cant lie like I want be in love like this

if i missed any lmk

AN: yall do not know how long this mf has been in my drafts omg I finally finished. This fic is just drowning in love. No smut 🤷🏾‍♀️. A bit rushed in certain places but it all fits pretty well in my opinion. this is not the end of the series but its like the end of the main chapters. there will be lore on the couple obvi, updates on the kids and the family as a whole bcus i am obsessed. hope yall enjoy.

You didn't know how it happened, you blinked and soon there were four. You had four kids running around your home filling it with innocent joy and laughter, and the occasional attitude. It was a full house and a busy life, but it could be enjoyable. You'd become a stay-at-home mom. At first, you weren't sure if you'd be able to manage, you loved your job a lot and worked extremely hard for it but with your growing family, your kids needed you more.

With Oscar opening a second restaurant you thought it'd be a good idea to bring up what's been gnawing away at you and he tells you that he's behind you no matter what path you choose. You put in your letter of resignation and bid your co-workers a teary-eyed farewell with promises to visit as much as they can. You had to admit it was a nice break, you didn't have to wake up as early, you weren't on your feet as much and the house was nice and quiet for a few hours when your children were either in school or at daycare. But then you had baby Rosie and your house had returned to a screaming, hollering mess.

She was a loud one and very expressive, babbled and cooed to anyone who would listen. "And then what happens after that?" You say laying next to her gently stroking her hair. She kicks her feet with excitement and responds in her usual baby language. "Oh my goodness." You respond. You could do this all day. You hated to admit it but you missed the baby stage so much and you were grateful for your little one. You'd been lounging around all day, only getting up to shower when she had fallen asleep and the occasional time when you needed to grab her bottle.

You pepper her chunky face in kisses and she squeals with happiness. "Que hermosa." You giggle. You two are so wrapped up in your world you don't even hear when the door unlocks and Oscar strolls in, he decides to check in on you since everything at the restaurant was going fine today. He notices the obvious vacancy of your presence downstairs and stumbles into the kitchen thinking you were feeding Rosie but he was wrong. He hears his baby's infamous noises from upstairs and smiles following the sweet noises. He creeps in on you two.

His head lolls to the side and rests on the door frame. He'd seen you like this many times (clearly) and it never got old. The way you lovingly interact with each child at any stage in their life, it was sweet to witness you give the same sweet eyes to Rafa at his big age as you did when he was a baby. Just a gentle reminder that he chose the right woman to marry, the best one to make a mother.

Rosie turns her little head and screams when her eyes land on her father. "Hola, mi corazoncito." He coos entering the room matching the same excitement as his baby which causes her to become even more riled up. He scoops her up and holds her in the air and all you can do is watch and grin like the Cheshire Cat. He brings her down and kisses her cheeks. "Cómo estás, mi mariposa?" He asks Rosie and she nuzzles her forehead in his cheek. Her nonverbal way of saying she missed him. Oscar takes his place next to you on the bed. "How are you, mama?"

You pucker your lips and he smiles dropping a kiss. You pout at how quick it was but quickly subsides when he gives you a forehead kiss. "I'm good. Sleepy. Hungry. Missing you."

"Missed you too, that's why I came home. And I brought some food from work."

You squinted. "Who cooked it?"

He chuckled. "Jason."

"Yes!" You fist pump. "Jason makes the best fucking food I swear."

Oscar's head seems to tilt even more, he's insulted by your statement but you smile sheepishly placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Not as amazing as you do." He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. Rosie babbles as her little reminder that she's still in the room. "No one forgot you chica" He affirms giving her some more smooches. "Let's go get mommy her food."

You sit up and stretch; some much-needed cracks are heard via your aching bones, and when your arms come down, you feel much looser and less tense than before. "It's okay, iré contigo." (I'll come with you.)

The three of you plop down the stairs and you part ways as Oscar heads to the kitchen while you shuffle to the living room and drop onto the couch, your lounging was short-lived when the doorbell rang. You huff getting back up on your feet. You swing the door open with a mean mug on your face until your eyes land on your mom and your features immediately soften.

"Hi, Mommy." You smile reaching out for her. "Hi sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm great," You pull her inside and close the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the rack nearby, her shoes slip off her feet and she places those next to Spooky's on the mat. "Came to visit, figured you'd need some... company..." She trails off and— not so subtly— stretches out her neck to see if she can spot the baby. "Mhm." You say crossing your arms, you call bullshit.

"She's in the kitchen with Spooky."

And just like that, your mother leaves you in her dust. You hear her high-pitched, "Hiiiii GG's babyyyyy, helloooo." And you can't help but smile. Your mom always seemed to become happier with each grandchild you produced.

You begin to feel left out when you hear all the commotion in the kitchen so you decide to join them. Your daughter has your mom's nose in her small fist while your mom blows raspberries in her little tummy, she erupts with laughter and you catch a glimpse of Oscar with nothing but heart eyes for his baby girl. You sneak over to him and slide your arms around his abdomen, he drops his arm over your shoulder and draws you close. He plants a kiss on your head. The microwave beeps behind you signalling that whatever was in there had finished heating up. Your eyes widen when the aroma of cheese hit your senses. "Is that lasagna?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He made a little dish for you, told him you've been craving it lately."

You squeal with excitement as you take the hot dish out of the microwave, you set it on the counter and danced over to the drawers in hot search for a fork, your successful in finding one and greedily stick it inside the soft noodles that were jam packed with delicious ingredients. You take one bite and practically faint at the taste.

"Just needs one more thing." You think out loud, you hustle over to the pantry and grab a bag of barbecue chips, you snag a handful and crack them in your hand, sprinkling them on top. Oscar stands there... confused.

"Girl, what the hell is that?" Your mom asks equally appalled.

You shrug and take another bite. "It's good though." You muffle with a full mouth.

"I love you." Oscar sighs and you laugh at his adoration for anything you do, you blow him a kiss before taking another bite. You don't see it but your mom has her eye on you with a very interesting theory brewing in her head. Your husband's phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it leaving you alone with your mom and Rosie, who is quiet and happy on her grandmother's chest, her little eyes slowly closing with sleep.

You try your best not to make too much noise while you reach for more-

"Are you pregnant again?"

You nearly choke on your saliva at the ridiculous question. You quickly shake your head. "No!? Are you nuts? I just had her and she is the last one." You assure but your mom isn't believing it. "This little concoction says otherwise."

You roll your eyes. "I just... like pasta and chips... together."

It did sound ridiculous.

"Since when?"

"Like... a month ago..."

She sucks her teeth. "Mi amor, I'm telling you, I think you're pregnant."

This was insane, this was an insane conversation to be having. You were one hundred percent sure there was nothing and no one in your belly-- just the mere thought of having two under two was giving you the heebie-jeebies. "I'm just saying-"

You groan like the irritated teenager you once were, "Ay Mama, no más charlas de bebé, por favor." (No more baby talk, please.)

She agrees to ease off the topic but it remains in the back of her mind.

-- --

Later that day after Oscar's gathered the others from school, you sneak out of the house to do some grocery shopping. It was a bit of time for yourself, a time when you didn't have to keep your eye on your tiny little humans. You go through the aisles for the essentials and when that's done you browse for treats and snacks for your kids (that you and Oscar will eventually munch on as well.)

You cautiously approach the next aisle that is stacked with condoms, contraceptives and pregnancy tests. You meant to move, your hands ready to push the cart forward but your feet are firmly planted on the floor. You sigh and turn in, quickly grabbing a box and dumping it in the cart as though it's not for you. "She better be fucking wrong." You mutter to yourself.

-- --

With all kids fed, bathed and in bed before twelve it allows you to have the bathroom to yourself for a while. You wedge the knuckle of your index finger between your two rows of teeth, you stare at the box and sigh. "Please prove her wrong." You whisper to no one in particular. You pop open the box and rip open the wrapping of the test. One original and one digital. You sit on the toilet and do what you've done a hundred times, you pee on the sticks and set them aside until the timer goes off.

You clean yourself up and wash your hands, you know better than to just stand there and watch the sticks waiting for that fate-sealing answer but you go against yourself and stare. You're in a trance until there's a knock at the door, it startled you and you clutch your non-existent pearls for dear life. "Que?"

Oscar asks, "You good? Didn't need company tonight?" He's referring to your commonly shared showers which, now that you think about it, is probably one of the reasons you're in this predicament again!

"No, it's not that. I'm just..."

You huff and unlock the door swinging it open with displeasure on your face, your arms crossed as you nod over to the tests on the counter. His eyes follow your actions and pop out when he sees them. "How-"

"Mom said it was weird that I ate the lasagna like that."

He chuckled. "Didn't want to say anything." 

You whine saying, "It's not funny, I just thought it was a change in my palette or something, I mix random foods all the time. I-" You searched for every excuse you could find. Oscar's face softens at the worry in your voice. "I just had Rosie." You sigh sounding depleted. You turn your back to the tests when you hear that all too familiar sound. You squeeze your eyes shut, if you don't look you won't know the answer and you can go about your merry way. Your husband offers to look for you and leans over. You hear the quietest gasp he's ever uttered and you know. You spin around to look at them yourself.

Positive. Both of them show positive.

You look up at Spooky and he's already looking at you waiting for your reaction so he can curate his own. "How do you feel about it?"

You shrug. You truly didn't know, you didn't even have words. Your throat was dry. You pick up one of them and look at it. And you feel nothing. Empty. Just waiting for a sense of gratitude to come across and for some reason, you can't seem to produce it. You put the test down and leave.

Spooky's still standing there with his heart in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should've listened to you, that two was enough, and then three and four. He's after you, right on your heels as you enter your bedroom. You sit on the bed and fall back onto the sheets, you cover your eyes and shake your head at yourself and him. "I just had Rosie." You repeat to yourself. And then it happens. A tear slips and as quick as you are to wipe it, he knows you like the back of his hand— your breathing gets choppy and choked, you sniffle. The bed dips beside you and the sound of the sheets ruffling as he lays down.

"Háblame." (Talk to me)

You take a deep breath. You can be honest. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not sad but I'm not happy. I just hoped Rosie would be a little older. They all have good age gaps and- Oh god, what if they don't want another sibling? And Rosie and I spend so much time together, they just got used to her-- Emilia was so clingy when I had her, she felt so left out and-and-"

Oscar presses his hand over your thigh. "Cariño. Respirar. Por favor.

You breathe shakily. "It's okay not to know how to feel. If this is not what you want... I'm here for you, your moms here... the kids are here. We have more than enough, Sí?"

You nod. He reaches over and pulls you into him, you rest your forehead on his chest while he rubs smooth circles on your back. "We have some time for you to think about it right? It's your world mi amor, we're just living in it. I got you no matter what."

"Spooky."

"Mhm."

"Thank you."

He smiles and kisses your head. "It's my job baby."

— — You'd been hiding your belly from everyone, even the kids. It was easy for the most part because you only wore baggy clothes and they made you look a little large anyway but then there were not so subtle signs— like the heavy breathing from doing just about anything, and your walk? Oh, your walk was not normal no matter how hard you tried. So you decide to come clean to your kids and other close family during a little gathering that Spooky's brother, Cesar, was hosting. Cesar was the only person who knew and you two asked if it'd be okay to announce it tonight.

He was fine with it, excited actually.

Your hands shake. You were cautious in deciding on having this baby, it took you a while to feel anything. At first, it was uncertainty, did you want another? Would you be crushed if you didn't have it?

But as the weeks passed you couldn't help but fall in love with the growth, the bigger you got the giddier you became. Modelling in front of the mirror any chance you got, and when all the kids were asleep you'd talk to your belly and giggle with every shift they made.

"Listo?"  He asks and you nod confidently. Oscar whistles over to Cesar giving him a thumbs up. Cesar turns down the music to gather everyone's attention. "I just want to thank everyone for coming out, it's been a while since we've all been in one place, right?"

The crowd mumbles in agreement. "But it's great to see everyone in good health and good spirits—" He raises his Corona bottle and the crowd follows with their drinks (including the kids and their juice boxes) "Salud." He smiles.

"Salud." The crowd repeats. You clear your throat and enthusiastically say, "Oh let me see if I can get a picture. Everyone gets in."

They shuffle into one pile as best they can, you grab your phone and hold it landscape, you press record and say, "Alright everybody in... great, now saaaay... Y/n and Spooky are having another babyyyy!"

There were collective gasps, the word "what!?" Being thrown around in every language. "Excuse me!?" Your mom hollers. You unbutton your cardigan and turn to the side having worn a tight dress on purpose. "Surpriiiiiise." You sing out.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Jasmine screams stretching her arms out for you, you gasp and playfully smack her hand. "Not in front of my kids, puta!"

She tells you to shut up and hug her, your mom joins in and soon the children and in that moment it hits how loved and supported you are by everyone around you. This was your village and it was a damn good one too.

Oscar's friends dap him up and congratulate him. They hug you as well and whisper that they hope it's another girl. They loved spoiling your daughters. Anything they asked for the boys were sure to buy it no problema.

"Well, actually," You begin to say. "We know what we're having."

Rafa, your oldest comes up to you. "Is it a boy?" His eyes gloss over with the hope that you would say yes, he'd been hoping that Emilia (your third) was going to be a boy but he lucked out. You had an idea. You hunch over to match his eye level. "You see that cake over there." You whisper and he nods. "Papi and I were going to cut it, but I think you should get the first slice."

He shrugs and you walk him over to the white cream frosted cake. You and Oscar help him hold the knife and carefully slide the blade into the spongey treat making one incision and you help him make another. He pushes the knife under to take the slice out and plops it on his plate, he reaches for a fork when he looks down to see the inside was blue.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved with the understanding this was his moment. He looks up at you. "You're having a boy!?"

You nod with tears spilling over and ruining your makeup. "I am."

He puts the plate down and hugs you tightly and that's when the crowd goes wild. "Thank you, Mommy." He sobs which makes you cry even more. "Oh, you're welcome sweetie."

— — Nine months had sped past you and it seemed as if it was just yesterday that you found out you were pregnant. Now, you lay on a hospital bed, covered over by a few blankets to help with post-partum shivers, your jaw rattling and fingers dancing involuntarily. But that wasn't your main focus.

Oscar hovered over you staring at the sleeping newborn in your arms. He made the cutest noises while he nuzzled against your chest. Your finger ghosts over his nose and he reacts by moving his head and sighing. "Are you sick of me already, mi hijo?(my son)" You joke nudging him with your nose. "You get used to her." Oscar chimes in and you suck your teeth hitting him as hard as you could. "Cállate culo."(Shut up, ass)

"Hitting me in front of my son?"

"And I'll do it again."

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. "You know I like you a little feisty, mami."

You sigh, so in love with your new baby, in love with your husband— just filled with overpouring affection. You can't stop staring at your new son and your husband couldn't stop gazing at either of you. He'd been in this room over and over and he swore up and down you made it look so easy, that you looked like a goddess bringing new air and life into this world. Even though you thought you looked like a monster from the swamp.

Oscar tells you in a loving tone. "You're doing an amazing job, seriously, you... you're just amazing."

You blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling over. When you met this man he was so rough and tough, such a brute that it seemed impossible to get him to even admit that he liked you, but under all that fake-cold persona, was the gentlest giant and the biggest sweetheart you'd ever met—a man who spreads nothing but positivity around you and your children.

"I'm so happy, I met you." He mutters. You were his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend rolled into one and that's all he wanted out of this life. You look up at him with glossy eyes. "I'm happy I met you too."

You share a kiss as a tear slips out, you just can't hold them back any longer. He kisses your forehead as his thumb swipes over your cheek. Your attention is drawn back to your son when he begins wiggling in your hold, you press your nose against his hair taking a whiff of that fresh baby smell. As you soak in the presence of your child, your husband's phone buzzes against the fabric of the diaper bag, he looks over and your mom's name catches his attention. He looks to you for some sort of permission and your brows furrow together. "It's okay."

He rushes over to answer, and just then your nurse walks in with a smile on her face. "Just came to check on mommy and baby." She announces.

"Ok... yeah, I'll meet you guys downstairs... bye." Oscar hangs up and looks over at you. "Your parents are here, with the kids. I'll just be back okay?"

"Mhm." You hum. He gives you a quick kiss before he speeds out of the room. The nurse smirks as she helps you adjust yourself into a somewhat comfortable sitting position, asking you if you'd like your son to be put back in the bassinet to which you respond yes and she gently takes him. "I apologize if this is forward but... I've seen a lot of couples in here and let me tell you, I've never seen anything like you two. He is so attentive."

You giggle. "Thank you. I just got really lucky with him."

A few minutes had passed and she had finished her check-up letting you know that she'd be back in a bit for another check-in. Once she left that's when your family, quietly, barged in. Oscar approaches you first with a sleeping Rosie in his arms and you happily reach for her and coddle her in your arms. Rafael, Elliana and Emilia gently charged over to you, shuffling off their shoes and finding their places on the bed with you. You greeted them as best as you could, with restricted movement all you could do was reach for their faces. Your parents and Oscar stand in the background of it all observing you in your motherly nature and Oscar can't fight the grin that has been plastered on his face since the day he met you.

"Baby." Emilia chimes in drawing everyone's attention to her now. "Yeah, mira, mommy had the baby."

Rafael seemed enamoured by the presence of his new sibling. He loved his sisters, you knew that, but by the looks of it-- this would be a special bond. "Rafa, would you like to hold him first?" Oscar asks.

He nodded eagerly and readied himself by sitting up straight and folding his arms. Oscar removes your son from his bassinet and carefully places him in Rafa's arms. The baby was a bit squirmy, upset that he'd been disturbed but with the soothing 'shhhh' from his mother's lips he settled down. Your two girls surround their brothers with curiosity.

Emilia giggles. "Hi, cutie."

"He's so tiny," Eliana mutters. Your parents finally make their way over to you after letting you have your moment with the kids. They congratulate you and your dad holds up a Chipotle bag and you beamed. "Thank you, this hospital food sucks." You whisper.

They attempted to take Rosie from you but you assured them it was fine, having missed her snuggles anyway. "Want me to feed you?" Your husband asks and you snicker shaking your head. "Está bien papito, I'll eat when I'm ready. But thank you."

— — After all the kids had their turn holding the baby their attention spans had turned to you and their father, telling you everything that had happened since you left the house.

"And then Ellie licked the cookie and put it back in my bowl," Rafa whines and you hold back a laugh. "Eliana you do not do that, that's gross."

She shrugs and nuzzles closer to her grandfather on the couch who is causing a ruckus with all his snoring. Your mom nudges him awake and he hits his famous line, "I'm not sleeping, I just closed my eyes."

"Think it's time for us to go." Your mom says. "Um.." Rafa chimes. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"I- yeah, I guess so." You answer. Oscar says that you'll keep Rosie since she has now found a new sleep space in his arms. Your mom carries a sleeping Emilia and your dad carries Eliana on his back. They say their goodbyes and are out the door.

— —

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Rafael had fallen asleep on the couch while Rosie, who'd only woken up to ear and fell back into slumber, lay under her older brother's arm. You sigh contently as you gaze at them.

"Did you ever think when we met at that laundromat, that we'd be here?" Oscar mumbled as he held your baby boy, tracing his finger along his little nose. You turn to him. You shrug.

"Maybe with one kid... two.... But not five." You joked. He chuckled.

"Did you?"

He nods. "I knew you were gonna be my girl from the moment I picked up that sexy red bra you dropped-"

"Spookyyyy." You gasped gently hitting his arm.

He laughs. "Que? Man, once I saw those cups I started barking."

"You are so fucking stupid."

He shrugs. "I know. But I'm stupid in love with you."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his corny, yet sweet, line.

"I'm stupid in love with you too."

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are appreciated. hopefully, I'll be back a whole lot sooner. peace and love

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb @librarian1002

Who might be interested: @miyahmaraj @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo @missdforever

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter One

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : The full first chapter. For anyone that missed the first sneak peak, this is going to be a vampire fic, so it's going to have smut, dark themes, and blood mentions. I've been reading a lot of gothic novels lately so there's a bit of inspo from that in here. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter One

It was official; you'd lost your fucking mind.

You’d been standing outside the building for five minutes now, the paperwork tucked in your coat pocket feeling heavier by the second. Were you sure that you wanted to do this? Could you really give up a year of your life to serve a vampire?

What other choice did you have?

A lithe and pale figure watched from behind the tinted, UV proof glass while you changed your mind a dozen times over. After a few more minutes, the sun finally disappeared into the New York skyline, plunging the street into shadow.

The door opened.

The figure called your name, and you stepped forward, almost mesmerised by the lilting, lyrical tone of her voice. You shook your head a little, trying to keep your wits about you. 

You took in the sight of her as she held open the door; taller than you with a willowy figure, long white hair down to her hips, and eyes of pale blue that seemed to look right through you. You’d seen enough vampires to tell one by sight.

Your small suitcase was clutched in your hand, the few possessions that meant anything to you had been hastily packed before you’d headed to New York, and now felt like all you had left in the world. She glanced at the suitcase with disdain, but said nothing.

“Do you have the paperwork?” She asked, the soft but icy sound of her voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting while you fished the folded mess of documents from your coat. She gave the contract a cursory glance, making sure you’d signed every dotted line, before; “good. And are you sure you understand everything that this position entails and what will be required of you?”

You nodded again.

“Speak up,” she prompted. “This is your last chance to ask questions.”

Despite the impatience on her face, you took a moment. Only minutes ago you’d had at least half a dozen questions about the job and the mysterious vampire who had hired you.

“What happened to the last person who took this job?” Her eyebrow rose, obviously not expecting that question. “The contract is for a year, but I’ve seen this job advertised three times in the last ten months.”

“There are a lot of people who mistakenly believe that they can do what is required of them. Many have come to work for Mr Russo, and many have disappointed him,” she shrugged.

“What happened to them?”

“The same thing that will happen to you if you breach your contract; immediate dismissal with no severance,” she explained, slowly starting to step towards the elevator. “During your time here, everything will be provided for you and you will only be paid once your term of service is completed.”

“A million dollars,” even though that was the amount in black and white on the contract, it still didn’t seem real to you.

“Yes,” she pressed the call button, putting an obvious timer on this conversation. “Like I said, this is your last chance to ask questions. Once I take you upstairs, your contract will officially begin, and you will forfeit the agreed upon rights.” 

You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and nodded, knowing you had no choice. You needed the money and a year wasn’t that long if you really thought about it. 

The elevator doors slid open and you took one last deep breath before stepping inside.

“What floor are we going to?” You asked, not wanting to stand in silence.

“The penthouse,” she answered, allowing another moment of quiet before adding; “you’ll find that Mr Russo has been more than generous with your living quarters, far more generous than most.”

“Do a lot of vampires do this? Hire people to feed from, I mean?” 

“For those that can afford it, or those with particular... tastes, it’s quite common, yes,” she replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look at you, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore; it was too late for you to change your mind.

“And which is Mr Russo?” You dared to ask, which was enough to earn a glance from her.

“Both,” she answered coldly, “as you no doubt saw in the advertisement, Mr Russo is very particular, and you’d do well to remember that. He is a man who likes everything in its place.”

Your lips parted, more comments and questions about your mysterious employer on your tongue, but they were cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. She led you out into the penthouse; a large open-plan living and kitchen area, with an open fireplace and wrap-around sofa, decorated in dark colours and dark-stained wood.

“Leave your suitcase there,” she instructed. “You won’t need it.”

You did as you were told, speechless as you took in the huge space in front of you. The windows drew your attention; tinted and obviously UV proof, but spanning from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of Central Park.

“This is the main area of the penthouse,” she started, as if she was a tour guide, reeling off facts that she no longer found interesting. “You may use this area as you see fit during daylight hours, but between 9pm and 6am it is off-limits. You will clean up after yourself.”

You nodded, following her as she slowly started towards the kitchen, leaving your suitcase at the elevator.

“All food will be provided, and should not be left in this kitchen area. You have your own private kitchen in your quarters. As per your contract, you will keep to the list of acceptable foods, and will receive grocery deliveries once a week on Fridays.” She stopped for a moment, letting you get a look at the main kitchen.

While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food in the main kitchen, there was a large wine rack, filled with bottles. But it was the small glass-fronted refrigerator that caught your attention. That was where he would keep your blood. Suddenly it all started to feel very real to you.

If your guide cared, she didn’t bother to show it. She started to move again, and you followed after.

“Behind that door,” she pointed, “are Mr Russo’s rooms. You are forbidden from entering. Any breach of that rule will result in your immediate dismissal.”

You nodded, eyes lingering on the door, wondering if he was behind it right now, if he was listening in to everything being said. The thought caused your heart to beat a little faster and, that, you were certain she did notice. She led you away, towards the other end of the apartment.

“Through that door is Mr Russo’s library, you may use it as you see fit during daylight hours,” she didn’t linger or allow you to look inside, so you decided that was the first place you would explore once you were alone.

“And this,” she pushed a door open, “is your private suite.”

The door led to a small corridor with three doors. You continued to follow her. 

“Your kitchen,” she pushed open the first door and let you glance inside before moving to the door on the opposite side of the hallway, “your bathroom.” Again, she only gave you a second before moving to the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is your bedroom. For your privacy, the door can be locked. Though once you’ve slept here, no vampire will be able to enter without permission.” 

You were almost speechless as you stepped into the room, immediately noticing the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around the corner of the room, giving you amazing views of Central Park and the city. The room contained a large bed, a sofa and TV, as well as a small gym area in the corner. There was a wardrobe, the doors of which had been strategically left open so you could see that it had already been filled with clothes for you. Beyond that, there was a desk and several mirrors, and everything was decorated with the same dark palette as the rest of the penthouse. 

“As per your contract, you are expected to remain clean and healthy at all times,” she continued while you slowly stepped around the room, cautiously running your fingers over the desk and opening drawers. “Mr Russo requires that you shower at least once every day and that you wear only the clothes provided. If the clothes provided are not to your tastes, reasonable adjustments to the wardrobe can be made.”

You opened a drawer and felt heat rise in your cheeks when you realised that it was filled with silk and lace lingerie sets. Closing the drawer, you decided to look elsewhere, moving towards the nightstand. There was a silk sleep mask beside the lamp, with your initials sewn into the fabric.

“You will not leave the penthouse without permission. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate dismissal,” again, on paper, it had sounded easy but now you weren’t so sure. “Part of remaining clean for Mr Russo means that you will forgo sex for the duration of your contract, and you will not allow anyone to touch you in a sexual way. However, Mr Russo understands that this can be... difficult for someone your age, so he has provided everything you need to keep yourself... satisfied.”

Your confused glance was met by a raised eyebrow and the slightest dip of her head, indicating the drawer which, stupidly, you opened without hesitation.

“Oh...” you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but a drawer full of sex toys certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks got hotter and your heart raced in your chest.

“I would suggest getting that under control, your embarrassment is quite distracting to vampires,” she stated before leaving the room. You quickly pushed the drawer of toys closed and followed after her. 

She led you into the kitchen, a clean and sterile looking room with everything you’d ever need to cook for yourself. Waving at the only chair at the small table, she instructed you to sit, take your coat off and roll up your sleeve.

“For the first week, I will assist you in drawing blood and showing you how to store it, after that it will become your responsibility. You will do this at least once a day, and it is your job to ensure that Mr Russo never goes without,” she explained, opening a drawer and removing what she needed.

You felt queasy the moment the needle punctured the skin, and you were sure she scoffed when you looked away from the sight of blood. Clearly, she didn’t think you were going to last in your new job.

“While your contract is in effect, Mr Russo is the only vampire who may drink your blood,” she continued to list rules and stipulations. 

“And he’ll only drink it like this? He won’t -” you hesitated, trying to decide if the question could be seen as offensive to a vampire.

“It is, legally speaking, entirely up to you whether or not you would allow Mr Russo to feed from you directly,” which, of course was something you knew - since vampires revealed themselves to the world, lots of safe-measures had been put in place to protect humans from being involuntarily fed upon. “However, Mr Russo prefers to feed this way, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

After almost ten minutes she pulled the needle from your arm and began to explain how to seal the blood before handing you a bottle of supplements and a glass of water. 

“Take one of those every day after bleeding, they will help your body replace what you’ve given.” She watched as you took one of the supplements without questions and then led you back out into the main area of the apartment, showing you how the blood was to be stored in the fridge, with the day's date clearly marked on the jar.

“Now, you should go shower and change into the clothes provided. I can either dispose of what you’re wearing or it can be placed in storage with your other things until your contract is complete.”

“Wait - storage?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“As per your contract, everything is provided -”

“I get that, but... you’re saying I can’t keep my things? What about my phone?” Sure, you’d read the contract, but you’d never realised that that was what it meant.

“Mr Russo is a very private man, your phone or other electronic devices would be a security risk,” she answered sharply. “If you wish to terminate your contract -”

“No - no, it’s fine. As long as they’re kept safe.” As much as you hated it, you knew the alternative was worse. No, you could live without your phone and laptop for a year if it meant earning a million dollars, if it meant finally being free.

Without hesitation, you removed your phone from your pocket and handed it to her. She seemed almost amused that it was already turned off, and quickly slid it into her own pocket.

She nodded and started to walk away. “Leave anything you want put into storage by the elevator.”

It was then that you realised that she was about to leave you all alone and you’d have no more chances to ask her questions.

“When will I meet Mr Russo?” You asked as she pressed the call button.

“That depends on Mr Russo,” she shrugged, “you may never meet him if he doesn’t wish it. He’ll decide when he returns to New York tomorrow. For now, I’d suggest you spend your time getting comfortable. A year is a long time for warmbloods...”

The elevator doors slid open and she carried your suitcase inside.

“I’ll be back after sunset tomorrow to draw more blood.”

It wasn’t until she was gone that you realised you’d never even gotten her name.

Alone, you remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, half expecting her to come back to explain more rules but, when she didn’t, you decided to explore.

It felt strange and you didn’t dare touch anything, practically creeping around the apartment, even though you were fairly certain that you were all alone now. You got yourself familiar with the main living area, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the windows before heading for the door that led to Mr Russo’s library.

Whatever thoughts you had about it, you weren’t expecting what you found behind that door. The book cases covered two of the walls and, in the corner of the room sat a grand piano. There was a worn looking leather sofa and, towards the back of the room, you realised that there was a set of shelves filled with vinyl records. Suddenly, being stuck in this apartment for a whole year didn’t seem like enough time. 

There was a strange mix of old and new about the room, things that made you wonder about the sort of person your new employer was. How old was he? How long had he been a vampire? 

You decided that you were definitely going to spend a lot of time in the library but, for tonight, you settled on taking a battered looking copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a shelf, hoping that no one would mind if you took it back to your room.

While it wasn’t getting late, it had been a long day and you were still feeling a little shaky, so you decided to do as instructed and have a shower before changing into one of the silken pairs of pyjamas that had been provided. Once you’d neatly folded and piled your old clothes by the elevator, you returned to your bedroom.

Paranoia had you checking around the room, beneath the bed and in the wardrobe, before you finally felt safe enough to lock yourself in. While it had been your plan to read until you fell asleep, you were too distracted by thoughts of home; had anyone noticed that you were gone yet? Were they looking for you? Had they been trying to call?

The only thing that you knew for certain was that no one would find you here. And, once you’d completed your year and had your million dollars, no one would find you ever again.

The next morning you realised why you’d been provided a sleep mask; as stunning as the floor to ceiling windows were, the moment the sun rose your room was filled with light. Grumbling, your hand reached for your phone on the night stand before you remembered exactly where you were and that you no longer had your phone.

There was a clock in the kitchen, on the wall above the small table where you sat and had breakfast, telling you that it was far too early to be awake. 

After breakfast you showered and decided to spend the day getting used to your surroundings, starting with the bedroom. 

The contents of the wardrobe left you speechless. Even the leggings and jeans were expensive brands, and some of the ball gowns... honestly, you didn’t even know why they were in there, but you’d spent enough time attending balls and gala’s back home to know that each was easily worth tens of thousands of dollars. Some of the garments felt a little more questionable; corsets and dresses that would probably reveal far more than you were comfortable with.

And the shoes.

You’d never seen so many pairs of shoes. Everything ranging from cute sneakers, to thigh-high boots with heels so big you’d break your neck if you fell over in them. Every kind of shoe for every sort of occasion, and they were all stunning.

Then, in the drawers, you had your more everyday items; underwear, tee-shirts, leggings. And, again, it seemed like no expense had been spared. Admittedly when you finally changed out of the pyjamas, it felt a little bit weird to put on underwear that you hadn’t bought for yourself, and weirder still to think about how soft the lace felt on your skin.

You picked out a pair of jeggings, an oversized sweater and a pair of Uggs to wear before continuing to search through your room. There was everything you could think that you might want or need, with the exception of a laptop or phone. (And you were very mindful about ignoring the drawer of sex toys, not even wanting to think about it.)

It took you almost the whole day to get through it all and find where everything was. Once you were done, you decided to cook dinner; a simple pasta in sauce with some bread. You hadn’t even stepped out of your suite and into the main apartment, you’d almost managed to forget that anything existed outside of your bubble until the sudden knock on the suite's door. 

You opened the door to find her standing there, remembering she had promised to return at sunset.

“Have you found everything to your liking so far?” She asked as she stepped past you and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Everything is fine,” you told her, following after. “I did have a few... questions about some things?”

She indicated that you take a seat and moved to the cupboard that contains the equipment for drawing blood. You rolled up your sleeve without being asked.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“In the wardrobe, there are ball gowns?” More statement than question and she looked at you with a raised eyebrow until you clarified; “why?”

“Mr Russo occasionally likes to host parties or attend events in the city,” she answered, piercing your skin with the needle. “If he decides he enjoys your company, he may ask you to attend with him.”

“Oh,” you decided not to ask the ridiculous follow up and instead change direction completely. “And, while I’m here I’m not allowed a phone or the internet?”

“As I told you yesterday, Mr Russo is a very private man. If you wish to contact loved ones, I can -”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut her off. “What if there’s... I don’t know, an emergency? Or something I need?”

For a second she paused, the slightest look of realisation on her face, as if she’d just remembered something. 

“By the elevator, there’s an intercom. You can use it to contact me or, if I’m not available, you can contact the doorman.”

Which, of course, brought you to the next awkward question.

“... you never told me your name.”

“Lissa,” she quickly responded, off-handedly, almost dismissively, like she thought you’d never need it. 

Once she was finished drawing blood, you followed her out into the main area of the penthouse and over to the fridge where, to your surprise, yesterday’s blood was gone.

“Is -” you started to ask, glancing towards that foreboding door that was off-limits to you, “- is Mr Russo here?”

“He’s back in the city, yes.” 

You took that to mean that he wasn’t in, so you decided not to ask any more questions - what had she told you yesterday? That he’d decide whether he wanted to meet you when he got back. Well, he was back now and, obviously, he didn’t.

Lissa asked if you needed anything desperately and you told her you didn’t; she didn’t exactly make it seem like she was interested, more that she felt obligated.

The next few days passed in much the same way; you’d spend your afternoons exploring the penthouse, trying to get some idea of what Mr Russo was like. Then Lissa would help you draw blood and, by the end of the first week, you no longer needed her assistance. Every morning you checked the fridge and found it empty. He was there, in the penthouse. But, as the days passed, you started to think you’d never cross paths and maybe that was by design.

Maybe that was for the best, maybe it would be easier to get through the year without meeting him. You could just pretend that the penthouse was yours.

But it seemed like a lonely way to live, especially once Lissa no longer had a reason to visit. You weren’t used to space or privacy, not like this. You took to muttering to yourself, moving from room to room of the penthouse just to get a little bit of variety in your life.

The first day you were completely left alone, you decided to start the morning with a run on the treadmill. It was raining outside but you tried to picture what it would be like to run through the winding paths of Central Park, all the way to the fountain. Then, after showering, you rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen to find all the ingredients you needed to make chocolate muffins.

By the time the sun started to set, you were quietly impressed with how well you’d managed to distract yourself. But it was only one day, and you had over three-hundred and fifty more to fill. You made yourself some dinner, drew some blood and took it out to the fridge for Mr Russo, whenever he decided to get it.

Then, you ended up on the sofa.

Initially you’d only wanted to sit down for a few minutes, feeling tired and a little bit unsteady after putting today’s blood in the fridge. You had a feeling that you might have drawn a little too much, and you found your eyes drifting shut. 

The alarm on your watch woke you, set to remind you every night when it was approaching 9pm so you could retire to your suite, as per the rules. You felt groggy as your eyes opened, taking a second to sharpen.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the wrap-around sofa, a glass in his hand, dark eyes set on you.

You sat up quickly - so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.

Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or nausea.

If he cared about your display of discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, for a moment you were sure you saw a flicker of a smirk cross his lips. For a second you found yourself staring, taking in the sight of him; dark suit, dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was stunning, even by vampire standards.

“I’m sorry, I -” you started, flustered. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for. It wasn’t like you’d broken any of his rules.

“So you’re the new one,” his voice didn’t sound like you thought it would. For the look of him, you’d imagined a smooth but commanding tone, instead there was something rough to it.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, quickly introducing yourself to him rather than addressing what exactly he meant by the new one.

“Drink that,” he instructed and you noticed the glass of orange juice on the table. “It’ll help with the blood loss.”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, embarrassed that he’d figured out why you were sleeping on the sofa. (Just how long had he been sitting watching you sleep, anyway?)

You gave a muttered thank you before reaching for the glass and slowly starting to drink. You’d forgotten to take your supplement too and that probably wasn’t helping.

“So, what are you running from?”

“I'm sorry?” You asked, not understanding the question. 

“You've agreed to spend a year living in the home of a man you've never met - a vampire, no less - so, what are you running from?” He looked at you as if he could look through you, as if he expect a lie and he’d be able to catch you in it

“I’m not running,” you answered, forcing yourself to sit a little straighter, despite the light-headedness. “I just didn’t want to be at home anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” You answered flippantly before realising that that wasn’t the best way to talk to your new employer. “I mean - I already signed all of your contracts, so does it make a difference?”

“It does if I end up with your parents at the door screaming about how I spirited away their daughter and have her under my thrall so I can drain her blood.”

“Has - has that happened before?” There was something about his face, his eyes, it made it impossible to tell if he was joking or being serious. “Things like this are legal, so it’s not like they could complain...”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

It was only then that you realised what was in his glass, the dark viscous liquid he was gently swirling. He was sitting and having this conversation with you while cradling a glass of your blood.

“I’m not avoiding it,” you decided to tell him, “I just don’t want to answer it. I appreciate how this could look to some people, but I can promise you my family won’t be an issue. They don’t even know that I’m here and they have no way of finding me.”

“So, not running, escaping,” he stated like he didn’t want a response and already knew he was going to get one. And, finally, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink..

You didn’t want to watch him drink, but you found that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, watching the gentle bob of his throat and the way he licked his lips after draining half the glass. When he caught you looking, you dropped your attention to your own glass and took a slow drink.

“I’m not your first am I?” 

Sputtering, you almost choked on your drink and, for some reason, your mind immediately went to the drawer of toys in your bedroom. Your cheeks continued to warm as the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“My first what?”

“Vampire.”

“No. I mean, I’ve never -” you took a second, trying to regain your composure. “I’ve met other vampires, I’ve just never let them...”

He lifted the glass and cocked an eyebrow before taking a drink. This time when he drank, you let him see you watching, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. Again, his tongue wiped away any trace of your blood from his lips and he looked oddly satisfied.

“Do you like it here? Are you settling in?” He asked, and you were starting to realise he was trying to get a measure of you. “Are your rooms to your liking?”

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” you answered before taking an awkward drink. You weren’t sure what else to say about it because, outside of the library, there wasn’t much to the penthouse. In fact, once you started thinking about it, you couldn’t help but realise that it seemed a little cold and lonely. But, perhaps it was different in his rooms, perhaps that was where he’d made his penthouse into a home.

“You like the library,” a statement more than a question.

“Yes, I - how did you know?” Had he been spying on you? Watching you?

“My copy of Dorian Gray,” he stated softly, and you felt your breath catch, “it doesn’t seem to be where I left it.”

“It’s in my room,” you answered, worried that you might have already done something wrong - you couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after only a week. “No one told me that I couldn’t take it out of the library, I just wanted something to read in bed and I -”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “You can take as many books from the library as you want, as long as they’re returned undamaged.”

It seemed to mean a lot to him and, perhaps, you should have asked why but, instead, you found yourself feeling indignant.

“I’d never damage a book,” you told him, “especially one that didn’t belong to me.”

Again, he seemed more amused than fazed by your response. “So, you like to read?”

You nodded.

“Why?” His eyes stayed on you, staring through you, right to your soul. At least, that was how it felt. Your lips parted, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Why did anyone like to read? “Escapism? Perhaps to imagine a better life? Or is it love and fantasies of fictional men who will treat you better than anyone in the real world that you enjoy?”

“Is that why you have all those books? To fantasise about fictional men?” you found yourself responding, trying desperately to ignore the heat burning through your cheeks.

He let out a laugh, a deep and dark sound that sent a shiver up your spine. The smirk on his lips grew and, for a moment, he just watched you before shrugging.

“Sometimes men, sometimes women,” he admitted with ease, lifting his glass and draining it, leaving nothing but a pinkish stain on the inside of the glass. “I like you,” he decided and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your blood. “This is going to be fun.”

With that, he got to his feet and all you could do was watch, getting some idea of his height and how he held himself once he was standing. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew his own strength even if others couldn’t see it, and you knew immediately that you shouldn’t underestimate him.

“You should return to your rooms,” he told you, turning and heading for the kitchen to get rid of his empty glass. “I wouldn’t want Lissa finding out that you’ve already broken your contract.”

For a second you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you saw the time. Twenty past nine. He’d kept you talking for almost half an hour. (Could he really fire you for that when he was the reason?)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time, I -” you got to your feet so quickly that you almost fell back down

“I’m joking,” it hadn’t sounded like a joke. He glanced back towards you, offering something of a smile. “You should go back to your rooms and rest, though. And tomorrow, take more care when you’re drawing blood. I wouldn’t want you fainting.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before moving towards the elevator and slipping inside once the doors opened.

For a few seconds, you stood, at a loss over what had just happened, before quickly making your way back to your own rooms.

CHAPTER TWO

End Notes : Sooo... there it is. I honestly hate starting new fics because I always feel like they start a little slow. I'm not sure what the posting schedule will look like for this one, I'm hoping once a week (on Friday evenings) but I'll post an update or something if that changes.

Thanks for checking this out, I know it's a bit of a departure from Catch Me if You Can. Have a wonderful weekend.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

[lilybecca1]

Hi! Can I ask your top 5 fav BKDK fics recs? Thx so much 🥰

Hi! Sure! *Pulls out a list*

Okay just kidding

I've read like a TON of bkdk fics so far but the ones that actually got to me are just a few.

Starting with: The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh

Yeah, no one can say that it's overrated because it's the absolute best bkdk fic I have ever read out of, well, A LOT. It's also the first ever bkdk fic I have ever read, which doubles the attachment I have towards that fic cause imagine being introduced to the world of fanfictions about your favorite ship and starting out with THE saint scroll of BakuDeku 😭 that fic set the bar higher than the freaking Mount Everest and it left a lasting scar in me so yeah, I don't think any other fic will ever top that one. It's a must read, if you're a BKDK shipper and haven't read it yet that's illegal. TWYUTD is my shrine.

Second one, I would have to say In the Dark by Jane_Harl0w. Actually, my top 4 fic recs are all some of the first fics that I have read so that probably contributes to the reason why I have such high expectations of bkdk fics 😂 Like the beginning of In the Dark, holy sh*t. Almost as good as TWYUTD. And the ending freaking broke me. (Spoilers ahead). I remember reading the second to last chapter and I kid you not, I was in DISTRESS, cause there was only one more chapter left and no way the story was going to have a good ending cause they were kidnapped and there's no way in hell they would survive and escape when there's ONE chapter left. And then I clicked on the last chapter and saw the "Trigger warning: s**cide" and I broke 😭 I'm pretty sure I cried for hours cause I seriously believed they were gonna die and the absolute DREAD I felt when I knew the story wasn't going to have a good ending. But then it actually did have a good ending, and that's the only reason why In the Dark isn't number 1, because I would have been traumatized for life if the story actually ended how I thought it would.

There was also a lot of fluff and I loved their interactions, it reminded me of how they would have been like as childhood best friends. Although I kind of hated all the smut ngl, that ruined it for me a little. Without it, In the Dark would definitely rival TWYUTD for me.

Number 3: The Devil Ships ZeKu by xairylleactually. I had no idea what the fic's title was for such a long time cause my stupid ass didn't save it and I haven't been able to find it for MONTHS but someone finally found it so THANK YOU. It was about Deku and Bakugo finding out that fanfictions exist about each other and a whole lotta pining through it all. This one wasn't even finished, but it was the first time I ever came along this concept and the way it was written was reaaaaaally good.

Number 4 is Operation BakuDeku by ratnotfound

It's a crack fic, I remember it being hilarious af, also there's a lot of fluff. Really loved the texting theme in it and the class interactions. Even Mineta lmao. People can hate on him as much as they want but he can be funny as hell sometimes.

I actually wasn't sure what to put on the number 5 spot but I ended up with Fire Lily by EtherealBeing. The reason I loved this fic so much is because of the world building. Cause like goddamn I could make my own fanfiction about the world alone 😂 the angel world, the demon world, the lore behind God and the Deep, everything was so genuinely interesting to read that I swear I enjoyed the world building better than the actual bkdk in it lmao. (Although that church scene was kinda top tier ngl)

Also honorable mentions:

Deku Enchanted by s_the_queen (didn't finish it but the beginning was hilarious af, I swear it's one of the funniest I've read out of all of them. Deku basically gets hit by an obedience quirk which makes him obey whatever people ask from him, creating a lot of...interesting situations lmao )

They ship us? by Raltaya (don't remember it much but it was pretty good. It's about Bakugo and Deku finding out about their ship and then pining for each other)

If I Have You by dommymommy (it's not finished yet but the ANGST and it's not even the typical kind of angst, it's actually good and it deals with more mature feelings than just simple pining and being flustered around each other. Their relationship is much more grounded in this one, but with a lot more heavy feelings than other fics. I definitely recommend reading it, it filled my soul with warmth. It's the perfect example of when you know you love each other but it hurts too much to be together)

I've read tons of Villain Deku fics but so far Forget Me Not by Scorned_By_Thornz (WynterThornz) was the only one that actually made me believe that he COULD become a villain. The pure angst, humiliation, and sickening feelings between them is just wow. Prime example of how a relationship can turn bitter even though you love each other. Has a good ending, but man I feel sorry for Izuku for how they treated him in the fic.

Dreams Change People by FireRuby1 (it's a time travel fic where they get stuck in the past and relive their childhood experiences. Lots of good moments but the moment when Bakugo relived the river scene was what sold me.)

To Stand by Your Side by aeronines (also didn't finish this one cause I was too impatient...yeah, I have commitment issues, anyway...but this fic was actually really good, Bakugo is younger in this one and Deku is a pro hero, and it was very interesting to see their dynamic this way)

Hero Class Civil Warfare by RogueDruid (Icarius51) (Not specifically bkdk but Deku is really f*king smart in this one, the plot twists are insane, like fr kudos to the author for coming up with them cause I for sure would have never been able to. The story itself is about a competition between the Hero and the Villain team, and Bakugo is the leader of the Hero team while Deku is the leader of the Villain team. The Villain team is low-key badass in this one)

Mirror Image by Eleke (Bakugo gets sent through the multiverse in this one. Pretty interesting AUs appear, and I liked the ending a lot)

In Another Life by Hollandvice (A part of me died with this fic. But in a good way. Like it could have had the opportunity to complete break my soul if the ending went down differently, so thank f*ck that it didn't, I narrowly avoided future heart problems. It's damn well written and I recommend it to everyone who wants to read an emotionally impactful story)

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy (this time Bakugo is the pro hero and Izuku is the younger one. Lots of fluff and I really loved the ending, it was very touching)

To Win You Again (with trembling hands) by DoesItSaySassOnMyUniform (this fic was amazing, especially the ending. I absolutely loved their confession, it was the most realistic confession I have ever seen in any fic so far)

That's it, I hope you'll like these fics too! 💚

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Twenty

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Jake and Bob finally talk; Jake makes a startling statement and Ducky's water breaks

WC: 1K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You sat on the couch wearing a dress that stretched over your mountain of a stomach, feet swinging. “Come on, Cowboy!” you yelled out. “This isn’t the Miss Texas pageant!” 

Jake appeared from the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He had on a pair of jeans and a thin cashmere polo tucked in at the waist. He looked nervous. 

“Are you ready?” he nodded. “Help me up, please.” 

Jake held out his hands and lifted you gently as you groaned. “You alright baby?” he whispered. 

“I’m enormous,” you complained. “And she’s kicking my ribs like she’s getting paid for it.” 

“Maybe we have a soccer star on our hands,” he replied, placing one hand on your belly. 

You looked up. “I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is to me that tonight goes well.” 

Jake sighed. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake, Y/N.” 

You frowned. “Why do you say it like that?” 

“Let’s just go,” he said, grabbing his truck keys from the table near the door. 

“No. Tell me what you meant.” 

Jake groaned. “I’m really not in the mood for this.” 

“Well neither am I, but here we are.” You were being stubborn and you knew it. It was one of your less attractive traits, as your mother always said. 

“You want to know the truth?” Jake whirled around to face you. “That’s my baby in there. But I know for a goddamn fact that you’ll pick your family over me if it comes down to it. And that if for some reason Floyd and I can’t figure this out, you’ll pick him over me. And I’m not going to get to be a part of my kid’s life. Not in the way that I want to be.” 

It took you a moment to reply. And just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake cut you off. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We’re going to be late.” 

***

The drive was silent, punctuated only by the sounds of your scraggly breath as the truck ricketed over potholes. Jake kept both hands on the wheel, gripping it hard. 

You were quiet as he pulled into a parking space, Bob’s truck already parked across the way. When you went to slip your hands into Jake’s, he shifted just enough out of the way. 

Inside, Bob sat at a corner table wearing a linen shirt, a look of disgruntled discomfort across his face. He stood up when he spotted you, reaching out to kiss your cheek. “Ducky.” He straightened. “Hangman.” 

“Floyd.” 

“Call each other by your first names,” you demanded, plopping down into the chair and taking a sip of ice water. “Please.” 

“Jake,” Bob bit out.

“Bob.” 

“There. Was that so hard?” You winced as the baby kicked, hard, against what may or may not have been the remaining shred of a spleen. 

“Are you alright?” Bob asked quietly. 

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” You cut him off. “Can the two of you just talk please? So I can go home and put on my pajamas.” 

“If you want I’ll take you home now.” Jake offered. 

“Jesus fuck,” you grumbled and they both looked up, startled. “Talk to each other. Now.” You crossed your arms over your chest, resting them on your belly. 

Jake sighed while Bob leaned back. 

Finally, Jake said, “I called Joe the other day. After what happened at the restaurant.” 

Bob frowned. You did, too. “Who is Joe?” 

“Dakota’s husband,” they replied in unison. 

“Asked how he was doing. How Blake was. He’s in the third grade now.” 

“I know that,” Bob bit out. “He’s my godson.” 

Jake hung his head. “Listen, Bob, I’m trying here. Do you know how many times I woke up that first year after the accident in the middle of the night drenched in sweat? How many times I wondered if it would have been better if it was me in her seat. What if I had just gone down instead.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m about to be a father. And it’s made me do a lot of thinking. I’m not saying it was right, or that I don’t regret it. But maybe there was a reason I wasn’t the one who we lost out there. Maybe this is what I was meant to do and be. And I think I owe our daughter, Y/N’s and mine, everything I can give to her. And that means being a father who isn’t constantly haunted by ghosts.” 

The air was still. In front of you, your spaghetti was getting cold, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jake and Bob as they sat across from each other in silence. 

“Tell me the truth,” Bob said, gravely voice barely above a whisper. “Do you love my sister?” 

“Yes.” It was automatic. Your heart jumped into your throat. “I love her. I’m in love with her. I’d do anything for her.” 

“So marry her.” 

“Bobby!” you slapped his upper arm. “You shut up.” 

“I’m serious,” he said. “Marry her and provide a good life for her.” 

“Happily.” 

Your eyes went wide. “What?” 

Jake turned to you. “I know you’re scared and that’s OK. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Because I’m ready for this. All of this.” 

Your heart started beating fast. You felt the air tighten around you as your reached out to grab the edge of the table. 

“Ducky?” 

“Baby? Are you alright?” 

“I think, I’m—”

The rush of liquid from beneath your dress stopped you mid sentence. You looked up. 

“I think I’m in labor.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloydssunnies @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @myfaveficrecs @withahappyrefrain

@gigisimsonmars @shanimallina87 @seresinsweetie @seresinhangmanjake@mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @na-ta-sh-aa @rosiahills22 @sometimesanalice @seresinslady @seresinsweetie @seresinhangmanjake @mrsjobarnes @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @palepeanutponyshoe

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Five

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Chapter summary: Aemond dwells upon the past while trying to live without her.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The flat door clicks closed behind Aemond and he lingers in the corridor for a moment. This was for the best, he was sparing her, so why does his heart feel so heavy? Every step towards his car feels as though he’s walking through quicksand.

He loads Vhagar into the boot, throwing his overnight bag onto the backseat and sits wearily behind the wheel, gripping it with enough force to turn his knuckles white. He screws his eye shut, attempting to will away the prickling sensation around the rim, alongside the lump in his throat.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

**15 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond looks up at her from where he’s seated on the edge of the hotel bed, brows arched in pain and disbelief, as tears slip down his cheeks. “So that’s just it, you’re ending things?”

Alys purses her crimson stained lips, perfectly manicured nails of the same shade brush against his cheek as she stands over him. “Oh sweetheart,” she coos, “You had to know that our little arrangement wasn’t forever.”

His heart twinges at this, what could she possibly mean? They are made for each other, two halves of the same whole. He stares at her, confused. “But I love you…”

She laughs, green eyes crinkling with mirth and the sight and sound is a dagger to his chest.

“You don’t love me,” she says, her tone condescending, “You’re barely twenty, you don’t know what love is. You just like the idea of an older woman.”

He shakes his head, feeling himself become angry at her cold dismissal of his feelings. “Then why? Why bother with me?”

Alys sighs. “Look, we both got something we wanted out of this arrangement. You got to have a little fun, and I made sure I got the Harrenhal contract.”

Bile rises in Aemond’s throat, his eye narrowing hatefully as he stares at her, acrid warmth spreading throughout his chest.

She’d used him.

**PRESENT DAY**

Aemond’s own flat feels too big, too empty, too quiet, when he returns to it. The pitter patter of Vhagar’s claws against the hardwood floor as she potters towards her bed is the only audible sound.

He’s never stopped to consider his own living space much before, preferring functionality over comfort. He is out most of the time anyway, so what does it matter as long as things do what he needs them to do? 

It’s only as he leans against the spotless granite of the kitchen counter that he is struck by how lifeless and sterile it is here. He’s grown used to the warmth and cosiness of being at her place; the smell of jasmine that wafts delicately in the air from the incense sticks that her and Mysaria always seem to be burning, being pressed against her on the tiny sofa, her feet in his lap as trashy TV plays just a little too loudly, the tiny space is filled with laughter, comfort and love. Dropped back into his own space he feels as though he’s been set adrift, empty and hollow, yet he has no one to blame but himself.

The bed is too big, he has too much room, he misses the feel of springs digging into his back as he curls himself around her on her tiny mattress. This bed doesn’t feel like home, not anymore, not since he’d laid her down upon it all those nights ago, put her legs over his shoulders and…fucked it all up by leaving without saying anything the next day, just like he fucks up everything. She’d given him a second chance and he’d squandered it.

No, he did what he needed to.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and throws the covers off, walking to the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of painkillers to dull the throbbing ache in his left eye socket, his fingers close around something cool and metallic.

He plucks it out, studying it carefully. It’s a bracelet of hers, probably left there accidentally from one of the few times she’s stayed over. He turns the silver bangle over in his fingers, remembering the first time he’d seen her wear it. He’d thought to himself it looked cheap, but now as he holds it it feels like the most precious treasure in the world. It’s all he has left of her.

How had he allowed things to go this far? It was only ever supposed to be transactional but he’d allowed it to evolve, letting her occupy a space in his heart and mind that left them both vulnerable. He ended things, not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain and yet in doing so has devastated them both.

Aemond doesn’t do love or relationships. Not even his own family can stand him, so how can he expect another person to feel that way about him, or open himself up to the possibility of having those feelings for someone else? It’s a path he’s trodden before and it doesn’t end well.

**5 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond leans in to kiss Floris, she turns her head and he catches her cheek instead.

“I’ve just put on lipgloss, Aem,” she says, her voice saccharine, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Mm. Was just about to leave, love,” He tells her, grabbing his keys.

“Forgetting something?” She says with a slight pout and tilt of her head.

“Ah, of course,” he fishes his credit card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands it over to her, smirking as the diamond of her engagement ring glitters with the movement of her fingers, “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“You too!” She calls over her shoulder, already walking back towards the bedroom.

It’s not until Aemond is almost at his car that he realises he’s left his phone in the flat and heads back upstairs to retrieve it. As he opens the front door he can hear Floris on the phone, only able to pick up on her side of the conversation, he pauses to listen in.

“...I can only put him off for so long. I have to do it occasionally, otherwise he’d get suspicious. It’s that horrible prosthetic eye, it gives me the creeps–”

“...only a few months until the wedding, then I can get a quickie divorce and take half of everything–”

“...no, he hasn’t made me sign a pre-nup, he’s too obsessed with me for that–”

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat as a dull ache spreads its way through his chest. He slams the front door hard enough to alert Floris that he’s home and strides towards the bedroom.

**PRESENT DAY**

The next few weeks are a miserable dirge for Aemond. He buries himself in paperwork at work, in an attempt to push away thoughts of her, yet finds his mind wandering to how she might be spending the working day, whether she’s finally managed to get the museum to commission the exhibit she’s been pushing for or not. He considers dropping by the museum, just to see if he can watch her from a distance, but decides against it. It was his decision to end things, it was for the best, the least he owed her was to stay away.

Aemond sits on his couch in the evenings, the cold, hard leather unwelcoming against his back, the space too expansive as he attempts to watch the same trashy TV on his widescreen that he’d watched with her on her TV. He finds he couldn’t give less of a shit about which couples are voted off of Love Island or who scored the lowest on Come Dine With Me, for him the experience was about being snuggled up next to her on the sofa, feeling her warmth, hearing her laugh. Now she’s gone, and none of the things that accompanied that seem to matter.

Family functions are unbearable without her. He misses the way she’d smile up at him when he placed his hand at the small of her back, misses how effortlessly she converses with his family, even the members he struggles to get along with.

Without her to keep him grounded, he bickers with Aegon, is aloof with his mother and Helaena and actively goes out of his way to antagonise his nephews. He hasn’t just reverted back to old habits, he’s worse, and it’s obvious his family have begun to notice too. He elects just to stay away entirely when invitations are extended.

That is until the night of Helaena’s birthday party. His only sister would never forgive him if he didn’t show up, so grudgingly he goes to the gathering his mother is having for her at her place. 

He stands out on the decking, the same decking where he’d shared his first kiss with her, the memory plays on a loop in his head, he can still taste the red wine on her lips. 

The cherry red tip of his cigarette as he takes a drag provides further illumination alongside the soft glow of the lights through the windows of the house, and the moon that shines bright in the night sky. 

It’s quiet, save for the muffled bass of the music coming from inside. It gets louder as the French doors slide open for a moment, quieting once more as they slide closed.

Aemond rolls his eye, blowing out a tight line of smoke, his shoulders tensing. He wants to be left alone, he had hoped that escaping to the garden would have made that perfectly clear to everyone.

“It’s just me,” Helaena says softly, coming to stand beside him.

Aemond softens, glancing down at her, his gaze drawn to the bubbles that rise to the top of the glass in the gin and tonic that she’s taking delicate sips from.

“Happy birthday, Hel,” he says, facing forward again and taking another drag.

“It’d be happier if you’d actually come inside,” She nudges him gently with her elbow.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be,”

“What’s going on with you? You’re miserable lately.”

“I’ve always been miserable,” He throws his cigarette butt down onto the decking and crushes it under foot.

“You were less miserable when you had your girlfriend. I liked the guy that you were when you were with her,”

“She’s not my girlfriend, never was,” Aemond’s tone is clipped, he purses his lips as he feels irritation prickle at his skin.

“Why not?” Helaena taps the rings on her fingers gently against her glass.

“She deserves better than me. I’ve spared her the inevitable hurt I’d cause her,”

“Hm. You know, there’s only so many times you can use that excuse before it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy,”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve ended things because you don’t want to hurt her, but I bet doing that has hurt her, and you,”

Aemond scoffs, “I don’t do relationships, Hel,”

She huffs a quiet laugh, “No, I don’t do relationships because I’m aroace. You do do relationships, Aemond, you’ve just made crappy choices in the past and you’re allowing fear to dictate your future,”

He narrows his eye, glancing towards her again, “And how do you know so much?”

“I’m incredibly fussy about the insects I choose for pin-mounting, and those just go on my wall. I’m even more particular when it comes to people. I’ve seen how you two look at each other, don’t chuck this away,”

“Hel–”

“I mean it, Aemond. She’s your…your atlas moth! Pin mount her before somebody else does,”

“A truly horrifying metaphor, but thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles warmly, “You gonna come inside now?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

“Gonna go get your girl?” She asks with a grin.

“Perhaps,” he says with a bow of his head.

Helaena deposits her drink on the railing and claps her hands together excitedly. “Then of course I don’t mind, go!”

Aemond pulls out his phone as he gets into his car, seeing the Instagram notification pop up on his lockscreen.

mysaria_ww has started a live video

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he clicks on the notification and startles slightly as pounding music blares from his phone’s speaker. The camera sweeps shakily over a couple of obnoxiously lurid drinks before it lands on her.

Aemond feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her and he holds his phone in trembling hands as he makes a note of the location sticker. A cocktail bar not far from here.

He locks his phone and is starting the car before he has time to properly think about it.

The bar is dimly lit, the music not to Aemond’s taste and far louder than he’s comfortable with. It’s the type of place that has seemingly endless happy hours and serves drinks that are mostly ice. He bristiles uncomfortably as he descends the steps, but refuses to be deterred. He needs to speak to her.

He freezes when he sees her. Her elbow is propped against the edge of the table, her chin resting on her hand, an easy smile graces her lips as she listens intently to whatever Mysaria is whispering to her.

They’ve been apart for so long that he’s forgotten just how beautiful she really is. It’s like the first night he met her all over again, when he’d gotten out of the car to greet her and she’d stolen his breath away. He hadn’t let her kiss him that night, afraid she’d just be doing it for the money. He won’t make that mistake again tonight.

He walks slowly over to her table and the way her face falls when she notices him makes it feel as though his stomach is in free fall. She looks so shocked and unhappy, she’s never not been pleased to see him. He hates this.

“Can we talk?” He raises his voice to be heard above the music as he reaches their table.

She shakes her head, climbing unsteadily from her bar stool and grabbing her bag. “Oh, I am too drunk for this…”

He watches in dismay as she staggers away, flanked by Mysaria, before deciding to follow them both outside.

“Hey, wait–” He says, reaching for her, and she whips around, eyes wide and mouth tightened in anger.

“I’ll be right here,” Mysaria says softly to her, stepping to the side and pulling up the Uber app on her phone.

“No, you wait!” She shouts at him, “I have spent weeks trying to get over you. You don’t get to make someone fall in love with you and then act like that’s nothing!”

She’s in love with him?! 

He feels his chest tighten at the admission, standing there dumbfounded, he allows her to continue.

“I let you go,” She sobs, streaks of black mascara track their way down her cheeks alongside her tears, “I respected your decision, I didn’t reach out, even though I wanted to. I left you alone, so what gives you the right to ruin girls’ night?! You broke my heart and acted like you were doing me a favour, so why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?!”

Because I love you too.

He can’t say anything, as much as he wants to, his throat has run dry. His fingers flex uselessly by his sides, longing to reach out and wipe away the tears and make up that have run down her face.

She’s pulled away by Mysaria as an Uber pulls up to the curb and he can do nothing but watch helplessly as they drive away.

You’re losing her. Do something.

Sleep does not come for Aemond. The image of her tears plays over and over in his mind as he tosses and turns, tears from hurt that he’d caused her. 

He has experienced crying in relationships before; he’d cried when Alys ended things, but he was young and stupid and thought he was in love with a woman twice his age. Floris had bawled when he’d confronted her about what he’d overheard, but they were the crocodile tears of a desperate woman caught out for being a gold digger.

Aemond has never seen the real anguish of heartbreak before, at least not on another person, and he never wants to see it again. He has to make this right. It’s not until he feels the drip from his jaw onto his collarbone that he realises that after weeks of holding them in, his own tears have begun to fall.

It is almost midday the next day when Aemond has everything he needs prepared. The big white van he parks outside of her block of flats is cumbersome to drive in comparison to his sleek, black sports car, but he hopes the inconvenience will be worth it.

Come outside.

He texts her, relieved when the bubble displays as delivered, at least she hasn’t blocked his number.

He climbs out of the van, leaning against it, heart pounding as he looks up to see the curtains of her living room window twitch.

A few moments later she’s stepping outside, a look of confusion on her face. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” Aemond says, “Letting you go was a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I fucked it up, it’s what I do, I fuck things up. But I’m sorry, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like for you. I want to do this properly.”

“Why are you doing all of this now?” She asks, folding her arms defensively.

“Because I’ve tried to live without you, and I can’t. What we had was good, so fucking good, and I threw it away because I’m a coward. Just let me make this right, please?”

She sighs, “What’s in the van?”

He motions for her to follow him, and opens up the back, revealing a brand new mattress, still in its plastic wrap.

“A replacement, so I can stay over without feeling like someone has spent all night attempting to make balloon animals with my spine.”

“Presumptuous of you,” She says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Aemond shrugs, “I’m all in,”

She runs her hands through her hair, eyes flitting between him and the mattress. “How the fuck are we supposed to get this upstairs?”

He smirks. “There are removal people coming in an hour, they’ll take your old one away and bring this one up,”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“Well, that’s why I told them to leave it an hour, so I’d have time to cancel in case you did,”

He can see her fighting against the smile that tugs against the corners of her mouth. “I’m not letting you off that easily,”

“I know,” He says, taking a step towards her.

“So what do we do for the next hour?”

“We could give that old, lumpy thing on your bed upstairs a final send off,” he reaches for her and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re pushing it,” she whispers.

“Hmm,” he runs the tip of his nose against her cheek, “I’ve missed you,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, “none of it matters,” he kisses her other cheek, “not the money, not anything,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “not without you,”

When their lips finally meet it is slow and soft, and a contented sound rumbles within Aemond’s chest. It feels like he’s taking his first breath of air in weeks.

They waste no time in helping each other out of their clothes as they hurry upstairs. He smirks to himself as he lays back against the bed, feeling the familiar springs dig into his back, he pulls her to straddle him, allowing her to set a pace she’s comfortable with.

He moans low as she sinks slowly down onto him, the tight wet heat of her enveloping him causing his balls to tighten in a way that builds steady pressure at the base of his spine.

Gazing up at her with reverence, fingers digging into the plushness of her hips, he watches transfixed as her breasts bounce softly with each undulation, committing to memory every breathy moan and gasp. She feels like home, and it has never felt better to return.

When she eventually collapses against his chest, tightening and spasming around him as she falls apart, she takes him with her and he grunts as he feels himself pulsate and spill deep inside of her.

He strokes her hair as he holds tightly, gratitude and love overwhelming him. “You forgive me?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m working on it,” she whispers back.

“I can wait,” he reassures her, “I’m all in.”

Chapter four || Epilogue || Series masterlist

[tootoomanycats]

Just Deserts

(Post Rumbling Levi x Reader slow burn)

Chapter One- It's Snowing

Pairing:

Levi x Reader Slow Burn (eventual smut)

Word Count: 2,119

If you prefer to read on AO3 its HERE Summary: Two years after the rumbling has ended, the citizens of Paradis Island are beginning to enter a new era of peace. With trade routes open around the world now, more and more foreigners are arriving on the island. In a small town built on the island's docks, Levi has opened a tea shop. Humanity's strongest hero, now turned shop owner, has become a stickler for his daily routines. He wakes up, serves tea to the townsfolk, tends to his small garden, and then walks back upstairs to sleep, only to do it all over again the next day. It's a simple life—one he's never had before. After landing on the island's shores, following a hasty exit from home, you find yourself starting from square one. Over the next few months, you make friends with the locals and begin to build a new life for yourself. One day leads to the next, and somehow, you find yourself holding the deed to an empty storefront. Its windows face directly across from the local tea shop and its brooding owner. From your first meeting, neither of you could stand the other. In the months that follow the opening of your shop, a mutual frustration develops regarding your feelings for each other. What began as annoyance slowly transforms into a friendship, and both of you become nervous that it could be something more. Can Levi overcome his past and allow someone in again? Can you heal from heartbreak to have a chance at something real and honest? Or will you both settle for the courtesies of friendship, forever denying the desire for something deeper?

Warnings:

Minor mentions of blood.

Descriptions of chronic pain.

Mentions of a cheating partner.

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone! Holy shit, two chapters in one week? Nobody tell my cardiologist how much caffeine I’ve had this week- I don’t want to get in trouble. This is a story I’ve been sitting on my hands for almost a year now. I had made the original idea for this fic HERE. I ended up outlining some of it, and then, due to stress, moving, and tons of health issues, I forgot about it until two a.m. last night- when my sleeping meds were fighting with the caffeine I did not drink.

(it might have been three yerba cans, might not; you don't have proof!)

This one’s gonna be a slow burn, and it's gonna be funny. I want to put a lot of humor into this one.

As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks. Have you watered your smut provider today?

Two Years After The Rumbling

Glancing to the worn side table where a small square-faced alarm clock sat, a groan wracked his chest.

Two needle-like arms sat at 4:45 AM.

An hour before it was set to go off.

The smaller needle twitched back once before going forward two extra ticks; still need to fix that.

Four hours of fitful rest before being dragged back to the waking world. Last night's storm seemed hellbent on bringing powerful snow squalls. Accompanied by an atmospheric presser change that had his body vehemently protesting the whole night.

Freezing days like this had every past wound, affliction, and defacement his body had sustained roaring, unable to be ignored, and only allowing short and broken stints of rest.

If you could even call it that.

A slow blink brought focus to the ceiling. The aged variegation and cracks had been memorized in the last hour. Levi was lying awake in bed, his mind trying to pull what little motivation it could to sit up.

A groan filled his chest before he even started to move. Turning slowly to the right side, his right leg bent against the mattress. He then pushed his left hand down into the firm padding, using the leverage to sit up in bed.

Every movement was carefully debated, anything to avoid more discomfort than was already felt. Just sitting upright used more energy than he wanted to acknowledge.

Pulsing heat wound like barbed wire in his left shin, wrapping up the limb and pushing its pinpricked needles under the nerves of the patella. The joint inflammation, no doubt, had also caused swelling.

Shuddering a breath, Levi brought his right hand into view. There were rounded nodes where the index and middle fingers should be, both tingling and numb from the bout-filled night.

Minutes passed before trying to stand, only to feel a sharp sensation shoot up his left leg. With a grunt, he stumbled back onto the bed and begrudgingly glared at the walking cane leaning against the wall.

Another sigh.

The storm had passed over at some point, leaving a gray-skied morning in its wake. Snow blanketed everywhere that could be seen out of the window. It was going to be interesting going down the stairs of his apartment today. The steps already were becoming slick from moss, and now this added to the issue.

A shower, a very hot shower, would hopefully help this pain in the ass morning get off to a better start.

With a cane hooked over his forearm, Levi locked his apartment door before turning to face the narrow flight of stairs that stood between him and his goal.

With a grimace and half-shuffled step from the platform, his knee ached in protest as it bent to then hop down to the first step of many, only for his foot to slip on ice that had been hidden under snow.

The grip on the banister's railing was the only thing that kept him from sliding down the rest of the way. His thumb reached around to touch his ring and pinkie finger with its hold.

The opposite hand pressed down on the metal head of his cane, putting leverage onto the next step below before fixing his stance and trying to do better with the next hop. The same problem repeated, and his rear end landed harshly onto the freezing wood.

He refused to move out of pure spite at first. But with his body heat melting the snow and turning it into a puddle, the wet spot growing on his backside was not something he wanted to explain.

Glaringly, his eye scanned the street below, even glancing into his neighbors’ windows to make sure no one would see as he began scooting down each step, one at a time.

Seventeen steps later, and one very soaked bottom, saw Levi standing with a grumbling huff before turning the corner to the front of his tea shop.

“What a shit morning.” _______________________________________

“It’s snowing…”

How…

How did you get here?

Standing on a busy dock.

In a tattered wedding dress.

On an island, you had never set foot on before.

The sensation of something in your right hand made you look down at what it held. An obscenely large wad of money was neatly wrapped, held in place by a rubber band.

Oh, that’s right.

You were supposed to be getting married, right now.

Great Aunt Gertrude gave you the funds when you were zipped into the white gown this morning.

She had said something about, ugh, what was it she said?

“Just in case you change your mind.”

She had always been one to be blunt and to the point, which especially rang true for how useless she found your fiancé to be. To be fair, she wasn't wrong.

When she handed you the money, your best friend entered the dressing room to announce that your fiancée was missing. Everyone at the wedding party had been looking for him for over an hour.

It was understandable how worried you had been—what if he had been kidnapped or worse?

But nothing could have prepared you when you did find him, nothing.

It was by pure chance that you had heard the odd noises coming from the cleaning closet. When you opened the door, there was your fiancé; pants dropped down to his ankles as he pathetically thrust into another woman.

That moment felt as if it had lasted forever and simultaneously ended in a second. No one said anything, and all three of you were frozen in shock—them at being caught and you processing what you just saw.

The door had closed slowly with an ear-scratching creak. You may not remember much from that moment on, but you remember locking the door on them. No doubt forcing another person in the wedding party to find them together much later.

But you were already long gone by then.

And now you were here, where ever here was.

You watched as people walked by you, giving strange looks as you stood in the middle of the docks. It can't be blamed for the townsfolk gawking and looking away awkwardly at the sight of you. It was clear that whatever you had just been through was messy and held heft in its experience.

“Miss?”

Your body flinched at someone touching your arm gently. Turning, you look down to see a woman with a concerned expression. She stood barely at your chest, curly graying hair held back with a hand-knitted headband.

She spoke again. “Are you alright, love?”

You couldn't respond, mouth and throat refusing to make a noise as you stared at her blankly. The woman was of short and round stature, with small freckles covering her face.

And those green eyes, filled with concern. She took a moment to give you a once over before gently reaching, placing a hand at the small of your back, the other barely putting pressure on your upper arm as she started to walk and guide you.

“How about we get you out of the cold and warmed up hm?” You could not place her accent, but the tone was comforting. The kind someone uses when coaxing an injured animal.

As the woman guided across the icy cobblestoned road to a small Pub, your body was on autopilot. Once inside, the warped wooden floors creaked with each step. She pulled a chair for you to sit next to the roaring fireplace, telling you to stay there and warm up while she went and got some tea.

You didn't realize you had been cold until the warmth of the fire started to spread from your knee's up to your chest. Goosebumps cover your skin painfully, as shivers start small before growing into full body tremors, increasing to the point your teeth feel like they are going to chatter out of your jaw bones.

The heat started to bring you back to your body, painfully cold and sore, all weighing into the muscles. Exhaustion started to wallop you. Between the emotional shock, the running, and the freezing temperatures, it was no wonder you felt like you could have fallen asleep sitting up in that chair.

When your head bounced for a second time, fighting to stay awake, the woman from earlier returned to your side, holding a mug of hot tea for you.

“Poor thing, trembling like a leaf in the wind.”

When your hands first grasped the mug, you almost dropped it.

The warmth of the porcelain stinging against the sensitivity of your almost hypothermic skin. Wincing through the initial pain, you held the mug close to your chest as the woman draped the shawl she wore around your shoulders, its fibers already warmed from her body heat.

The sound of wood being scrapped against filled the empty PUB as she dragged a chair for herself, sitting in front of you. Again, you were at the mercy of your body as you could only stare at her. The fires light a stark contrast to the dark greyness that was outside. The window behind her showed snow had started falling in thick squalls.

No wonder you were freezing.

Looking from the window back to the woman, you found her pulling out a small pipe and filling it with a smoking mix from a leather pouch.

Both of you sat in silence, watching her pack and light the mixture before inhaling deeply and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air. She turned to look at you again, a sympathetic smile on the corner of her lips.

“Is there someone I can send word to for you? Family, friends?”

You looked into the mug as faces of wedding guests flashed before your mind's eye; clenching brows and lids shut, you gently shook your head and whispered, voice hoarse.

“No.”

A soft hum came from the woman’s chest as she nodded before looking back at the fire.

“If you would like, I can take you home. Where do you live?”

You fought the tremble that tried to start in your bottom lip; shaking your head again, you whispered back.

“I-I can’t go back there.”

Silence fell between the both of you again. Slowly, careful not to spill the mug’s contents as your fingers still tingled to life, you took a first sip. Your eyes closed as its warmth ran down from your throat.

Realization of how thirsty you were pushed to the front as you began taking larger swallows. Once its contents were empty, it was placed on the small table next to you. Body curling on itself as you scooted closer to the fire’s glow. Try as you might, but it was hard to think of or feel anything.

“Well, if you don’t have a place to stay, you shouldn't go out in this weather. I’ll make up one of the rooms for ya.” Before you had the chance to protest, she shook her head with a warm smile as she tapped her pipe to ash it into the fireplace. “No fuss now. I’m the owner of the INN, and my husband Frank is the owner of the PUB. We take pride in looking after folks, especially those needing it.”

When you had tried to offer money to pay for her kindness, she scoffed and began filling a large copper tub with hot water, refusing to even look at the cash in your outstretched hand.

“Now. I’ll bring you some clean clothes and some food. You get some rest; no one will bother you until it’s time for breakfast. But just in case you don’t want to be alone, I’ll be just downstairs.”

“Thank you, misses…?

“Meyer, Martha Meyer. And there’s never a need to thank me.”

A quick glance into the mirror of the bathroom had you sighing.

Eyes raccooned from tears streaking your makeup. Your hands were covered in dirt, wrists and elbows scratched up after falling in the garden when you ran out the back of the church. The lower half of your dress was dotted with small amounts of blood from your calves, lace shredded, all from the thorns of the rose bushes you sprinted through to escape faster.

When you finally managed to get into the bath, a hiss left your lips at the sting of hot water, cleaning the minor abrasions. It took what little energy you had left to wash and scrub the dirt out, dry your hair, and get into the pajamas left out for you.

The room was warming up from the small fireplace across from the twin-sized bed. After the last bite of soup, you lay down and cried yourself to sleep.

I am really going to enjoy writing about Levi's adjustments and personality around having physical impairments. The reason is that, if you don't know, my partner and I both suffer from chronic pain, and my partner has recently had to adjust to living in a wheelchair full-time. When you have these types of changes happen, suddenly, you begin to see the world is not built for folks with disabilities in mind. Levi wants to have his own tea shop and live in this particular town. As is his right, and he should be able to make that choice for himself. But the town's buildings were constructed so that apartments would be above where the business is. He had no choice but to deal with stairs every day, every season, even though it legitimately creates a safety hazard for him.

I think it's safe to say that if you really want to say that you love Levi's character—but the idea of him having disabilities, in the end, makes you uncomfortable and makes you not want to read anything that mentions them—you should really do a hard look at yourself and ask why that is. Anyway,

I love you all, and I hope you enjoy it and stay safe out there, my friends!

Tag list below ⬇️ If you would like to be added to Just Deserts tag list please comment to let me know.

Current Tag List:

@circulinho @angelofthorr

All cat art used on this blog are by the artist Valioart found on pintrest.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 8: We’re Completely Undateable, Aren’t We?

You and Joel go on a double date. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 7, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of a nude selfie. Description of masturbation. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“What’s your friend’s name again?” 

Natalie wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as you walked toward the restaurant. It was a nice one - trendy, with an extensive cocktail menu, something you were planning to take full advantage of as you watched Joel put the moves on someone else. Natalie, of course, looked beautiful. Perfect, really. At least, perfect for Joel. 

He’d always had a type. He denied it but he did. Joel had always gone for the effortlessly beautiful type, the kinds of girls in high school you’d have described as a step beyond the girl next door.

Natalie fit the bill, with soft features and natural makeup that perfectly accented them in a way that made you wonder if she was wearing makeup at all. She was unquestionably beautiful, the kind that made you do a double take and wonder what the hell someone like her was doing teaching and not modeling or being an influencer or something that was more lucrative because surely someone who looked like that had easier ways to make a living. 

But she was a professor and she was a good one, too. Several of your students had her for other classes and you always enjoyed when you had a chance to chat with her in passing. Joel was going to like her. How could he not? 

“His name is Joel,” you said. 

“Joel,” she repeated, taking a deep breath and giving a nod that made her curls bounce. “OK. Sorry, I haven’t been on a date in like… six months. I swear I won’t be a total spaz the whole time we’re in there.” 

“Well, we’re going to be in the same boat,” you smiled, your stomach in knots. “This is my first date since my split with my ex but you have to rip the bandaid off at some point, right?” 

“Right,” she smiled back. “We’ve got this.” 

If you didn’t throw up, she was probably right.

You weren’t going to say that.

“Yes we do.” 

Joel and the man he said he was bringing for you were already inside, seated on opposite sides of the table, diagonally from each other and looking like the most awkward pair. Joel spotted you first, his eyes going a little wide before he stood up almost comically fast, his chair nearly toppling over behind him. You gave him a tight smile and a small wave as your stomach got tight. 

This was going to be fucking torture. 

The other man got up, too, and turned to face you and Natalie. He was tall - but not as tall as Joel - and handsome, if a few years younger than you. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. Of course, it might not matter how you felt about it, given how his eyes fell on Natalie. 

“He’s cute!” Natalie whispered in your ear as you approached the table. 

Before you had a chance to respond, she walked up to the other man and smiled, her hand out. 

“Joel?” She asked. “I’m Natalie.” 

“Oh,” he said, looking flustered. “Um… I’m sorry, I’m not…” 

“I’m Joel,” he smiled tightly, his hand out to her across the table. “Sorry…” 

“Oh, God,” she laughed. “No, I’m sorry! I’m Natalie, it’s so nice to meet you Joel.” 

She took the seat next to the other man, anyway, settling in across from Joel as you went around the table to sit beside him. He raised his eyebrows at you but you just shrugged before introducing yourself to the other man. 

“Good to meet you,” he said, shaking your hand lightly. “I’m Blake.” 

“Hi,” you said again, hoping your smile wasn’t too forced. 

You sat next to Joel and picked up the menu, looking it over and trying to force yourself to relax. Except you relaxed so much that your knee brushed Joel’s under the table and it made you jump. He looked at you when you did and you both smiled tightly, almost apologetically at each other. You tried not to frown as you went back to your menu. 

Joel didn’t look particularly thrilled about the current situation. Had you done a bad job of picking his date? You’d thought Natalie would have been a foolproof choice but maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he really wanted you to be across from him so his knee could accidentally brush hers under the table. You gnawed on your lower lip. 

“Everything OK?” Natalie asked, making you look up from the menu. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you. 

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, no, it’s… it’s fine, I… um…” 

“Goldie has a hard time picking something to order at new places,” Joel cut off your stammering. 

You looked at him, a little aghast. 

“I do not!” 

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. “You’ve always been that way. You’re worse now but you can never just get whatever you want, you always have to wait to see what I’m getting so you can steal some and even then you’ll hedge your bets.” 

“As if you don’t steal my food,” you put the menu down. “I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten something that I ordered all on my own if I’m out with you…” 

“You don’t finish it, anyway!” 

“Joel, I have to get a bigger Blizzard than I really want because if I don’t, you steal all of it…” 

“So you two have known each other a long time, huh?” Natalie said and you suddenly remembered that it wasn’t just you and Joel there. You were on a date. With other people. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Yeah,” Joel said, looking at Natalie, one of his signature, charming smiles on his face. “Goldie and I go way back, almost 20 years now…” 

“God, we’re getting old,” you laughed a little and tried to find someplace to look that wasn’t at Joel while he put the moves on your coworker. 

“Goldie?” Blake asked. 

“Oh,” you laughed again, clenching an unclenching your hand under the table. “Yeah, that’s what Joel calls me…” 

“She carried this notebook with this sparkly gold cover with her everywhere,” he said. You could feel his eyes on you and your face got hot. “Seriously, it was practically surgically attached. Still kind of is. But that makes sense since she’s a writer. She was a writer then, too. Always been a writer…” 

“What do you write?” Blake asked, looking intrigued. 

“Not much lately,” you said. “But I have one book that’s published. It’s kind of a coming of age story?” 

“Oh,” he deflated a bit. 

“Sorry,” you said, not sure why you were saying it. 

“No, don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “Just… not really my thing. Sorry. I’m sure it’s great…” 

“What kind of books do you like?” You asked, desperate to change the subject. 

“Well, I’m reading Ulysses right now…” 

“Ulysses?” Natalie cut him off before covering her mouth and clearing her throat. “Sorry. That’s just… it’s one of my favorites. I’m teaching it next semester…” 

“Really?” He asked, turning to face her, his face lighting up. “What do you like about it?” 

“Oh, I love the stream of consciousness structure…” 

They seemed to tune out everything then, totally absorbed in each other. You gave Joel a look and he gave you the same one back. 

You weren’t entirely unused to being with Joel on a date, it had just been a while. In hindsight, you realized you probably hadn’t been the best friend you could have been when that happened. You just continued on with Joel like you did when it was just the two of you, the fact that his flavor of the week was there hadn’t made much difference. You’d never felt like a third wheel. You never had much chance to feel like a third wheel. 

You were pretty sure you and Joel were the collective third wheel now. 

“This isn’t going well,” Joel said, keeping his voice low and turning his head like he was looking back over the shoulder that was closest to you. 

“It is for them,” you said, disguising it with a sip of water. 

“Good evening!” The server mercifully came to the table and introduced himself. “Can I get you folks started with a bottle of wine or perhaps some of our speciality cocktails?” 

“Oh thank God,” Joel muttered. 

“Anybody else want wine?” You asked before anyone had a chance to react to what he said. You snatched up the wine list and skimmed to a mid-priced cab. “This winery is excellent, everyone good with red?” 

“Sounds great,” Natalie smiled. 

“Sure,” Blake smiled. 

You didn’t bother to wait for Joel’s response and ordered the bottle and a martini because dear lord if you were going to make it through this night you needed to be a lot drunker than this. 

The server left and you exchanged a tight smile with Natalie before Blake cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“So,” Natalie said after a moment. “You said you like this winery?” 

“Oh,” you glanced quickly at Joel. “Yeah, I did a tasting there a few years ago, they’re in Sonoma, really excellent reds…” 

“So, you like to travel?” Blake asked. 

“Yeah, it’s always fun going somewhere new,” you smiled. “How about you? Anywhere really fun you’ve been?” 

“Oh, I uh… Don’t really like to travel,” Blake said. “Much more of a homebody type.” 

“Me too,” Natalie said, sounding a little too excited before clearing her throat. “I just really like having my quiet time, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Blake nodded. “You know, me and Joel work in contracting and I’ve really tried to make my home a place I really want to be, it’s my favorite place in the world.” 

“See, that’s so wonderful,” Natalie said. “I’ve always wanted something like that but I’ve been bouncing from apartment to apartment for years so it’s hard to really customize things…” 

The two of them were off again and you and Joel were left awkwardly sipping the wine the server came back to pour. 

It stayed like that all through dinner. All four of you tried to make conversation with the person you were there to see. You really, truly did. But it always led to Blake and Natalie being totally absorbed in each other while you and Joel were left sipping wine and pretending that you weren’t being effectively ditched by your dates. 

“Can you excuse me for just one minute,” Natalie said as you were waiting for the check, giving you a look across the table. “I just need to pop to the ladies’ room…” 

“I’ll come with you,” you said quickly, grabbing your purse and following her. 

The second you were behind closed doors, she grabbed your hand, an apologetic look on her face. 

“I am so sorry,” she said. “Your friend seems great, really, and I know that Blake was your date tonight but would you mind if I got his number? If you’re really into him or you think it would hurt Joel’s feelings I absolutely won’t, it’s really not a big deal…” 

“Natalie,” you smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “I doubt Blake even remembers my name right now. Absolutely, get his number, no hard feelings at all.” 

“You’re sure?” She winced. 

“Definitely,” you said. “Please, don’t miss out because you’re worried about being polite or something with me. You two seem like you have a real connection, you should go for it.” 

“Thank you so much!” She gave a little squeal. “OK now that it’s OK for me to say it? I’m really excited, I really, really like Blake.” 

“Good,” you smiled. “I’m happy for you.” 

Joel and Blake had picked up the tab by the time you got back to the table and the four of you headed for the door, Natalie and Blake sticking close together while you and Joel hung back. 

“Hey, Joel,” you said as you made it to the door. “One sec, let me show you something…” 

He frowned as you put your hand in his and tugged him to the side in the parking lot. 

“What?” He asked, glancing back at Natalie and Blake before looking at you. 

“Just going to give them some space…” You trailed off, leaning around him to watch where Blake and Natalie were talking, Blake pulling out his phone and smiling as they did. “And there it is.” 

“What?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder but you grabbed him by the chin and made him look at you, his eyes going wide. 

“Don’t look!” You hissed. “God, you have no tact…” 

“Shut up.” 

“They’re swapping numbers,” you said. “Two love birds over there…” 

“Jesus,” he groaned. 

“Sorry,” you said, stopping watching them and focusing on Joel again. “Didn’t think you’d mind too much…” 

“Yeah, didn’t exactly feel a love connection with Natalie,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You OK with Blake not being the one?” 

“Think I’ll survive,” you smiled tightly. You glanced around him one more time. Phones were back in pockets. “OK I think we’re good.” 

“C’mon Cupid,” he said. “Let’s go get shot down.” 

You snorted but followed behind him to the edge of the parking lot where Blake and Natalie were waiting. 

“So, if you don’t mind,” Natalie said, still wincing a little. “I was going to have Blake take me home? Catch up with you next week?” 

“Sounds good,” you smiled before turning to Blake. “It was nice meeting you.” 

“You too,” he said, at least being polite enough to look sheepish about it. 

“Good to meet you, too, Joel,” Natalie said. “Really, you seem… nice.” 

“Same to you,” he said, hands still in his pockets. 

The two of you stood there, side by side, as your dates went home together. 

You sighed and looked over at Joel once Blake and Natalie were safely in his car. Joel looked back at you. 

“We’re completely undateable, aren’t we?” He asked. 

“Yep,” you nodded once. 

He sighed. 

“Well, at least we have each other.” 

“Could be worse,” you agreed. 

“Want to come over?” He asked. 

“Yes but…” you bit your lip. “Can we go to Sonic first? I kind of really need a shake now.” 

Joel laughed. 

“Absofuckinlutely we can.” 

***

“You really think this is a good idea?” 

Your head was dangling off the seat of the couch, your legs draped over the back as you looked at your phone screen.

“Better idea than all your blood rushin’ to your head for however long you’ve been sitting like that,” Joel replied, sitting on the floor with his back to the love seat next to you. He tried to ignore the way your body curved in that position. The shape of your legs, your ass pressing into the cushions, your breasts swelling over the cups of your bra and giving him a glimpse of your cleavage in the v-neck of your dress. 

You set your phone on your stomach and looked longingly at the styrofoam cup on his coffee table. 

“What?” He asked. 

“I want my shake.” 

“So drink the shake!” 

“I don’t wanna sit up,” you whined a little. Joel laughed. You’d added a generous amount of vodka to the shake and it was starting to show. You reached for the cup, arm outstretched, fingers groping but it was out of reach. You whimpered and he sighed, bringing the cup alongside your head. You tried to take it but he pulled the cup away for a moment. 

“Just wait, I’m holdin’ it,” he said. “Take a sip if you actually can from that position, you weirdo.” 

You rolled your eyes with more dramatic force than Sarah on her best day. 

“You’re being controlling,” you said, putting the hand that had been reaching for the shake on your stomach by your phone. 

“Tryin’ to keep you from wrecking my carpet,” he replied, putting the shake by your head again and putting the straw in your open mouth. “Don’t choke.” 

“Don’t choke,” you mumbled mockingly around the straw - or he thought you did, anyway. It was hard to tell. You managed to actually get some milkshake into your mouth but almost immediately grimaced. Joel took the straw away. 

“You OK?” He laughed. 

“Brain freeze,” you winced, eyes scrunched closed. “Ugh, why would vodka and chocolate betray me in this way?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Goldie.” 

“You think this is why my date ditched me?” You asked, eyes still closed in a wince. 

“What?” Joel laughed. “Because chocolate and vodka decided to attack you personally?” 

“No,” you frowned, the upside down angle of your head making it look like a sad smile for a moment. “Because I like doing shit like this. I probably should have out grown this years ago.” 

“Hon, if some asshole is telling you to grow up, he doesn’t deserve you,” he said. “Now let me see that damn profile.” 

You sighed and surrendered your phone. While sitting in Joel’s truck at Sonic after your respective dates had crumbled, Joel redownloaded Tinder and you decided to set up a profile of your own. But you’d never had a dating app profile before. You sat on the couch, gnawing on your thumbnail and ignoring the milkshake you’d wanted to stop for until Joel went and got the liquor. After a few shots - and a generous amount added to your shake - you loosened up enough to fill out the profile. 

But you hadn’t loosened up enough to finalize it yourself. 

“OK well we’re changing out these pictures,” Joel said, scrolling down the page. 

“What’s wrong with the pictures!” 

“Did you scroll through your album to find the most boring photos of you ever taken?” He asked, lowering the phone enough to look at you. “Because these are not doing you justice…” 

“Fuck off,” you tried to shove him but almost fell off the couch instead, gasping then giggling as Joel caught you. 

“Jesus, please try to not break your neck,” he said, heart in his throat as he helped arrange you on the couch. “Just got you back, rather you not die in my living room…” 

“Give it a few months,” you settled into the couch again. “You’ll change your tune.” 

He scoffed, scrolling down your profile. 

“See, you didn’t pick the best prompts,” he said, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, adjusting your head to try to see him better and then giving up. 

“You’ve basically just said what your job is four different times,” he said. “Can I fuck with your profile?” 

“You’re the expert,” you shrugged. “Shake please.” 

Joel sighed and held the cup up so you could reach the straw again before going into your prompts. 

“Alright, if you had 20 minutes left to live, what would you do?” Joel asked, lowering the phone to look at you again. 

“I don’t wanna say,” you pouted a little. 

“Well now you have to,” he teased. “I gotta know. Is it masturbate? Eat your weight in chocolate ice cream? Tell Brad to go fuck himself? What?” 

“Not telling.” 

“I’ll tell you mine,” Joel said. “C’mon…” 

“No.” 

“Goldie.” 

“Joel.” 

“Don’t make me beg, he said. “I will withhold your alcoholic shake.” 

You quirked your jaw for a moment before you sighed. 

“I’d come see you,” you said. “There. Happy?” 

Joel’s heart beat a little faster. 

“Goldie…” 

“Don’t make fun!”

“I’m not!” He said quickly. “Really, I’m not, I promise I’m not.” 

“Feels like you are,” you muttered. 

“I’m not,” he said gently, moving so he was leaning on the couch next to you. “Promise.” 

“Yeah, alright…” 

“Hey,” he said. You lifted your head slightly, enough that he could see your face better. “I’d come see you, too. Assuming I had Sarah with me, of course.”

“What about Tommy?” 

“Fuck ‘em,” he smiled a little and you laughed. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”  

“Probably shouldn’t put that I would go see some other guy on my dating profile,” you said, letting your head dangle again. “Pick another prompt.” 

“How about this one,” he said. “I want someone who… will travel and explore new places with me. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “I like that one.” 

“Here’s a good one,” Joel said, letting a teasing edge slip into his voice. “Your biggest red flag is… fucking old dudes…” 

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “The prompts suck.” 

“We’ll figure ‘em out later,” Joel said. “I’m going to find a picture of you that doesn’t look like it was taken at some fuckin’ work conference…” 

“Hey!” 

“You’re a fun person,” Joel said, going to your photo albums. “You’ve lived a little. Try showing that.” 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I promise, there aren’t many pictures that are worth your time.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Joel said absently as he went to the map of photos. He pulled up the cluster that appeared near San Francisco. “See, this one’s good.” 

He held your phone in front of your face, a picture of you smiling in a vineyard. 

“Says you like to travel and like wine,” he said. “And you look good in it.” 

“Alright,” you said, a smile in your voice. “Put it in there.” 

“Not a first picture though,” he said. “We’ll find a better one for that…” 

“Knew you’d have this down to a science…” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, going back to the map. “You’ve been to Europe, right?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “For the book tour.” 

“Let’s see,” he said, heading across the ocean on the map and finding pictures in London. “Oh see, these are good, you’re all done up for work and shit but it’s in a cool place. So much better than that one shot you picked…” 

“Whatever you say,” you said, smile still evident in your voice. 

Joel toggled through pictures. You at the Tower of London, you by that big damn ferris wheel, you by Big Ben, a selfie with a woman who was pretty but not nearly as pretty as you. You holding your book and smiling with a room full of people in the background as they watched you intently. He smiled to himself, looking at the photo for a moment. He was so fucking proud of you, that you’d actually done the thing you’d always dreamed of and people loved you for it. He reached over and took a drink of your shake as he swiped to the next image but he immediately choked on it. 

It was a picture of you, a selfie. You were flat on your back on a fluffy white comforter, your eyes hazy with want, breasts bared for the camera. 

He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this. He knew. This wasn’t for him, this was for… well, presumably that fucking asshole you spent a decade married to. But before he could consciously stop himself, he memorized you. The swell of your breasts, the pebbling of your nipples, the curve at your waist just as the photo cut off. And that look on your face. How many times had he remembered - pretended? - that you looked at him like that when he’d been inside you? 

His conscious mind took over again. He coughed on the shake, dropping the phone and the drink. 

“Shit,” you said, adjusting quickly to help clean up. “Are you OK?” 

“Fine,” he said, trying to scramble for the phone as he hacked and coughed. Where the fuck had it fallen? “Just… wrong tube…” 

“Yeah, try not to do that,” you teased and Joel’s stomach dropped. Your phone was in your hand. 

“No, wait!” 

“What?” You laughed. “It’s my phone…” You looked down at the screen of it for the first time, your eyes going wide before you clutched it to your chest. “Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t see that!” 

He was quiet beyond his subsiding coughing for a moment. 

“It’s not that big of a deal…” he began but you groaned. 

“I can’t believe…” 

“I’m really sorry,” he said quickly. “I swear, I wasn’t looking for -”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut him off. Joel suddenly realized exactly how close the two of you were and he sat back from you. You winced, the expression passing quickly. “I’m sorry. I forgot that was even there, I thought I’d deleted it…” 

“It’s not a big deal…” 

“I just…” you looked at him, those eyes wide with a desperate need for understanding instead of just desperate want. “Look, things were already in a shitty place with Gale and I was trying to keep him interested when I was half a planet away and I was… well, I was obviously willing to try anything and - “ 

“Goldie,” he cut you off. “It’s OK. Really.” 

“No, it was stupid,” you looked down at your phone, barely pulling the screen away from your chest as you - presumably - deleted the picture. “It didn’t get me anywhere. I don’t think he even directly replied to that photo and it clearly didn’t do much to save my marriage and now… So yeah, it was pretty stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” he said gently. You scoffed. “It wasn’t. You were trying to take care of something that mattered to you. He was a fucking dumbass. You weren’t stupid.” 

He was suddenly close to you again - or it seemed sudden, anyway. But he was close enough that he could smell your shampoo and see the different shades in the iris of your eye. You were close enough that kissing you would be easy. Or it would be if there wasn’t so much between you. 

But maybe, just this once, it’d be easy. Actually easy. 

“We’re home!” Tommy’s voice boomed as the front door smacked into the wall. 

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah shrieked, tearing into the living room as you smiled at her. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” 

She damn near hurdled Joel and launched herself at you, almost toppling you over as you caught her. 

“I didn’t either, kiddo,” you laughed and gave her a squeeze. “But your dad’s and my plans changed. I was just about to head home, though.” 

“Aw man,” she sat back from you, pouting a little. “You’re not sleeping over?” 

“Remember those cats we got earlier this week?” You asked, brows raised. “Not very nice for me to leave poor Puck home alone when he’s still new in the house, is it?” 

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically. “You should bring him next time. Him and Swiftie can be friends.” 

You smiled. 

“I’ll think about it.” You turned to Joel, looking down at the melting shake on the floor. “Can I help? Where are the paper towels, I can…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “You should probably head home.” 

“Right,” you smiled tightly, leaning around Joel to see his brother and gave him a wave. “Hi Tommy. Long time no see.” 

“You’re lookin’ good, Goldie,” he smiled. “Still out there being smarter than everyone?” 

“Mostly,” you replied. “You still pretending rolled up pieces of paper are cigarettes?” 

“Sometimes,” he smirked. “When I’m bored and I need excitement.” 

You laughed at that and gave Sarah a final hug before leaving. Joel watched you go before sending Sarah to the kitchen for the paper towels before telling her to get ready for bed. 

“She behave?” Joel asked as he mopped up the spilled shake and tried to get the image of you, half naked and desperate, out of his mind. 

“An angel, as always,” Tommy said. “You two sure made a mess…” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel snapped, looking up at him. 

“Nothing,” he put his hands up. “Just an observation.” 

“Well,” Joel went back to cleaning up the mess. “Observe something else.” 

“Date went that well, huh?” Tommy asked. Joel could hear his cocky smile. 

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“You two will figure it out eventually.” 

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “Helped her get a Tinder profile set up tonight…” 

“Not the kind of figure it out I meant, brother,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder and groaned a little as he got up. 

“What kind did you mean?” Joel asked. 

“Well, figure it out and then you’ll know,” Tommy said. Joel rolled his eyes. “I’m out, been a long day.” 

“Thanks for taking Sarah,” Joel said. “I appreciate it.

“Thank me by getting your shit together,” Tommy replied. 

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I’m workin’ on it.” 

Tommy left and Joel managed to get the shake out of the carpet before heading to Sarah’s room to put her to bed. He read some of the book they were working on aloud and tucked her in before going to take a shower himself. 

Not that he needed one. He’d taken a shower just before getting ready for the date, it had only been a few hours. 

But he needed privacy. He needed to know that his daughter wasn’t going to overhear anything or come wandering in at an inopportune moment. 

The shower helped. 

He couldn’t wait for Sarah to fall asleep. It was like that picture was burned into his fucking retinas, he needed to get it out of his system now. He needed to get you out of his system. 

For now, he’d settle for the picture. 

It didn’t take much for his cock to be so hard it ached and he palmed it under the flow of hot water, working himself from root to tip. He tried not to think too much about the picture at first. He’d never been supposed to see it, it wasn’t right that he saw you that way. 

But he gave in quickly. He told himself it’d be just this once. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just this once, just to move past it. 

He let himself pretend. Pretend that you’d sent him that picture, pretend that you looked at him all desperate and needy, pretend that he got to take off your clothes every night so he could touch every inch of you. He’d been so caught up in what was happening the one time he was with you, the overwhelming intensity of his first time all tied up with just how badly he’d wanted you for so long, he wasn’t sure how much of you he’d actually touched. Not really. But he wanted it to be all of you. He hoped it was all of you. He pretended that he knew all of you in that way as he worked his cock, hard and fast until he came so hard that it spilled over his hand and onto his shower wall. 

“Fuck,” he panted, leaning against the wall for support as his cock went soft in his hand. 

He needed to fucking get past this. It wasn’t worth blowing up his friendship with you, hadn’t he learned that by now? He had to get his shit together. 

He repeated it like a mantra as he cleaned himself up and toweled off before heading to bed. But he couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you were OK. If there was a chance you were thinking of him like this somehow, too. 

Joel picked up his phone and went to text you for a moment before he decided against it. Maybe space was better. You probably needed some time after he saw that picture. 

Right? 

Instead, he opened Tinder. Maybe he could at lest find a decent option for a one night stand, see if fucking someone else helped get you out of his head. He’d never just fucked someone else when you were anywhere near him, though. Could he even do that now? Did he even want to?

He swiped right on the first few women on the app, not spending much time on their profiles and going off their pictures alone. He swiped left on the next one and was preparing to do a quick swipe when your face was in front of him again. 

It wasn’t the picture that was lodged in his brain. Instead, it was the picture of you at the Tower of London. Your hair was done but a little messy from the wind, a gentle but happy smile on your face. 

He just looked at you for a moment. You’d activated your profile in the short time since you’d left his house. 

You had Tinder now and he should have anticipated this. Of course if you added the app and lived this close you’d appear on his. But that didn’t make him any more prepared for it. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do? 

Did he swipe right on the off chance you did, too? But if you didn’t, he’d have to live with the fact that he knew you didn’t. 

If he swiped left, it could all go away. Be like it never happened, not you looking for someone else, not him stumbling upon that damn photo, none of it. If he swiped left, he could actually try to find someone else. 

His finger hovered over the screen for a moment as he tried to remember exactly what your skin felt like in his hands. 

He swiped left. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I know, these TWO. I love them. They need to figure it out but I love them.

I hope you do, too!

Stuff is going to ramp up a bit soon. Thank you so much for being alone for the ride! I know I haven't been replying to comments reliably lately (I keep posting chapters super late and just going to bed as soon as I post them instead of responding) but please know that every time I get a comment email to my inbox, it makes me smile. So thank you thank you thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me and thank you for caring about this fic. It truly means the world.

Love you!