#melly followed my parents home

[histskins]

people often wonder why we adopted 6 entire cats but the answer is we did not adopt the cats. the cats adopted us the cats decided they live here now

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 42.1k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

We

We

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

[saturnville]

dancing with a stranger, major john egan

pairing: major john “bucky” egan x black fem oc (amelia mae)

content: an alternative meeting between john and amelia mae

an: I was listening to dancing with a stranger by sam smith and normani on repeat and hadddd to write. enjoy

“We should go out tonight!” Eden Marie exclaimed with a cheerful smile on her face. The younger woman looked over her shoulder slowly, eyebrows raised and lip turned up in the corner. Between them, Eden was the social butterfly with enough energy to power a water machine. Amelia, on the other hand, lost her drive to socialize when a mishap with a boy left her heart broken into two.

“Since when do I go out?” asked Amelia. Amelia Mae wasn’t big on leaving her home. She preferred studying, reading, and making new outfits with her needles and threads. The outside world had nothing to offer her but pain. She wasn’t big on giving it another chance. She dropped her newest project into her lap and glanced at her doe-eye best friend, whose bottom lip was poked out.

“Since the military men are back in town. Didn’t you hear? The U.S. pilots are back from their mission oversees. And word on the curb is they love a good time, especially with the locals.”

Amelia snorted. “Partying with drunk military men doesn’t seem like the best way to spend my Friday night, Judy. And, since when do white military men take an interest in Black girls?”

Eden's eyes touched her brain as she grunted in aggravation. Amelia the Pessimist. “They don’t have to take an interest. They’re men at the end of the day. Smile, wave, and get yourself a free drink. Let loose for once, Mellie! The books ain’t going anywhere, your thumbs are busted from stabbing yourself with needles, and you’ve made three shirts since yesterday! Take a break.”

Amelia’s jaw ticked as the wheels began to turn in her head. Though she hated to admit it, Eden had a point. She was 20 years old. There was more to life than sulking her life away in the house out of fear of the unknown. With a deep sigh, Amelia finally nodded. “Fine, fine!”

Eden jumped up and squealed. “We’ve got an hour. They touch down in the States soon.” She grabbed Amelia’s hands and pulled her up from her seat.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I have my ways!”

Discomfort was the best way to describe what she felt. The local pub was crowded. Wall to wall with military men and groupies alike. The air was thick with sweat, hard liquor, and cigarettes. Amelia turned her lip up in disgust. She began to regret her decision.

Eyes were on them when they entered. Not because they were the only women there, but because they were the only Black women there. Amelia frowned and turned to Eden, “I thought the girls were coming?” Eden shook her head, informing her that the girls, twins Anna Marie and Betty, were caught up by their parents on the way out of the door. “Damn.”

“We still have each other! That’s all that matters. Snagged cash from my dad; let’s get a drink.” The two young women entered the bustling pub, weaving through the crowd until they reached the bar. Eden flagged down the bartender with a bright smile, while Amelia surveyed the room with unease.

As Eden ordered their drinks, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. She watched as the military men laughed and joked with their friends, their camaraderie evident in their easy smiles and relaxed postures. Despite Eden's enthusiasm, Amelia couldn't bring herself to join in the revelry.

Their drinks arrived, and Eden nudged Amelia with an encouraging smile. "Come on, Mellie. Let's mingle."

Amelia took a sip of her drink, the bitter taste of alcohol burning her throat. It wasn’t what she was used to, but she wouldn’t swear it off. She followed Judy as they made their way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods with the men they passed.

Suddenly, Eden stopped in her tracks, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "There he is!" she exclaimed, pointing towards a group of men gathered in a corner.

Amelia's heart sank as she realized who Eden was referring to. Among the group stood a tall, handsome man with a confident demeanor and a charming smile. He seemed to command attention effortlessly, drawing the gaze of everyone around him.

"He's one of the pilots," Eden whispered excitedly. "I heard he's single too."

Amelia's stomach churned with apprehension. She had no interest in getting involved with a military man, especially one who was undoubtedly used to having his pick of women. She took a step back, her desire to leave the pub growing stronger by the second.

But before she could voice her objections, Judy was already making her way towards the group, leaving Amelia with no choice but to follow. As they approached, the man turned towards them, his gaze locking with Amelia's.

"Hey there," Eden greeted him with a flirtatious smile. "Mind if we join you?" The gaze of other men followd suit. Judy’s eyes found those of Major Gale Cleven, a blue eyed, blonde-haired cutie with a curious gaze.

The man's smile widened as he gestured towards the empty seats beside him. "Not at all. The more, the merrier."

Reluctantly, Amelia took her seat, her discomfort growing with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a situation she wasn't prepared for, and as she glanced at the pilot beside her, she couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.

As the evening progressed, Amelia found herself growing more comfortable in John's presence. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and she couldn't help but be intrigued by his charm.

At one point, she noticed John glancing at her lipstick as she responded to a question he asked her. Her lips were painted a rich shade of red. It complimented the deep hue of her skin beautiful. “Couldn’t help but notice your lipstick,” he said playfully. “Looks real pretty on you.”

Amelia chuckled bashfully at the compliment. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice softening. “It’s my favorite shade.”

John’s eyes glistened with interest as he leaned in closer. "I can see why," he said, his voice low and intimate. "It's bold. I like it. Bold is good.”

Amelia's heart skipped a beat at his words. As the conversation continued and the alcohol raced through her system, she suddenly felt drawn to him. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins as she realized that John was flirting with her, testing the waters to see how she would respond.

As they continued to talk, John's hand brushed against her thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She glanced down at his hand, strong yet gentle, then back up at him, her heart racing in her chest.

John met her gaze with a knowing smile, his eyes filled with mischief. "Sorry," he said, his voice husky. "Couldn't resist."

Amelia felt a shiver run down her spine at the touch of his hand, but instead of pulling away, she found herself leaning into him.

As the night wore on, the music in the pub grew louder, and John extended his hand to her, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Care to dance?” he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

Amelia hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never been one to dance with strangers, but there was something about the pilot that made her want to take a chance. Maybe it was his charming demeanor, his sly smile, or the fact that her two drinks had her nerves at ease. Whichever way, she’d take Judy’s advice and live.

With a smile, she placed her hand in his, and they made their way to the dance floor. As they moved together to the rhythm of the music, their bodies pressed close, she felt a sense of connection unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was much different than those of men she previously dated, and while she wanted to get in her head about it, she chose not to.

“You know, I don’t dance with strangers often,” she said against his ear.

“I can tell. You look at me like I had five heads when I asked. But, now you see I don’t bite…not too hard at least.” Amelia gasped and poked his chest. John chuckled. “I’m kidding, darlin’.”

Over the music, their conversation grew. Once the song ended, they migrated to a small corner, their words mingling with laughter and shared secrets. Amelia was perched against the wall, her hands across her chest with John just centimeters away from her, hand on her waist and body caging her in.

Amelia’s giggles were interrupted by Eden's appearance. “Don’t mean to rain on your parade but it’s getting late and your parents are probably pulling their hair out.” John glanced at Amelia, who seemed to be upset that their time together was ending. With a nod, she told Eden she’d be with her shortly.

“Well,” Amelia sighed, dropping her hands. “It was lovely meeting you, John. Thanks for a good time.” She pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to his lips.

John nodded. “It’s my pleasure. Spending a night with a pretty girl? Would never decline.” Amelia smiled. “Get home safe. And don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

The young woman dug into the small purse tucked underneath her arm. Out of it she pulled a wrinkled piece of paper and pen. John eyed her as she scribbled upon it. Her number. Amelia placed it in his palm and grinned. “I won’t if you won’t. Have a good night, Major.”

As John watched Amelia walk away, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His eyes dropped to the number in the palm of his hand.

The night had been unexpected, exhilarating even. He couldn't shake the feeling of connection he'd shared with her, the way her laughter had lit up the room and her eyes had sparkled with mischief. And as he pocketed the slip of paper with her number, he knew that this chance encounter was just the beginning of something special.

[eagerforhoney]

Somewhere Between - Western!Clyde Series

Author's Note: Hiya, everyone! I've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while now, with more and more details planting themselves. This is the first part of our adventure with Clyde during the times of the Wild West! I'm excited for this one and really hope y'all enjoy :) Thank you so much to @mylifeisactuallyamess for all your help with this (and all the help to come I'm sure). Divider by @firefly-graphics!

Chapter One: Fire Escape

WC: 1,518

CW: Unhappy marriage, bodily injury, fire, preventing pregnancy, old west misogyny

The night breeze that always came in early Spring blows in through the cracked window of your bedroom and tickles over the toes of the foot poking out from underneath the quilt covering the rest of your body. You begin to stir from the middle of a deep sleep when shouting follows the breeze. In a half-asleep stupor your eyes begin to flutter open in response to the growing commotion outside. Your eyes peel open the rest of the way to reveal it is still very late, dawn nowhere near peaking through yet. Darkness swallowing your bedroom, the only light coming from the fires still burning outside giving no real illumination to what was happening outside your small home in town. You sit up in bed and as a secondary fleeting thought, peer over your shoulder at the other side of the bed. Your so-called husband was absent, as per usual. This did not worry you despite the angry shouting coming from the street. Your husband often did not come home; usually drinking himself stupid at the saloon and barely making it inside to pass out on the chair in the front room downstairs.

Your family owns the general store and is responsible for a lot of the town’s income. Your parents are very sociable people and have connections with traders and similar folk from all over the West, which causes the shelves of the store to regularly be stocked with specialty items and customers always coming in. The mayor’s son is mean, ugly, and stupid. You resent your parents for agreeing to give your hand to him despite what it would do for your family. You could keep books, were well-read, and enjoyed challenging yourself intellectually which intimidated and angered your new husband. When you were married six months ago you felt like you had been demoted in life. Arthur wouldn’t admit it but you were almost sure he couldn’t read at all, let alone provide for you in other ways. All the money you had came from his daddy and the small allowance your parents still provided you, which, now that you were married, was really provided to your husband. He spent most of the money and his time at the saloon while you were then able to go about your business in peace. It wasn’t at all the life you wanted, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

The moment you were made aware you were to be Arthur’s wife, you went straight to Mrs. Logan’s place. She isn’t a formally trained doctor, but had delivered every baby and set every bone in town since before you were born. You had grown up around her home and spent your childhood playing with her own kids. You loved playing with her youngest, Mellie, but learned the most from the older boys, twin brothers Clyde and Flip. You whispered about boys and joked around with Mellie, but Flip had taught you to shoot a pistol and how to throw a punch when you were thirteen and one of the store’s patrons tried to touch you. He was loud, gregarious, and never hesitated to start or join a fight. Clyde was the opposite side of the coin in that way. He was quiet, gentle, and could usually be found at his Mama’s side learning from her. He taught you how to saddle your own horse, keep cuts and scrapes clean to prevent infection, and make tea to help with nausea or insomnia among many other things.

You came to Mrs. Logan in search for a way to prevent pregnancy. You spoke in hushed voices as she instructed you how to administer the tinctures she would give to you along with other ways to prevent Arthur from impregnating you. She was a second mother to you and knew this marriage is not what you wanted. You still had to lay with Arthur, that was unavoidable. Though if you could help it you would never have a family with him. When you went to the Logan house two months after your wedding, it was Clyde who met you at the door and you were too embarrassed to explain why you were there, so you left without the things you would pick up each month.

You were always partial to Clyde’s gentle nature, and would never forget the day when your youngest sister came into the world four years ago. Your mama woke you up early in the first hours of the morning, crying and moaning with pains in her belly. She said my sibling was comin’ and we needed to help her get to Mrs. Logan’s since my daddy was out of town on business. Mrs. Logan herself was recovering from a horse stepping on her and breaking several of the bones in her hand, and so when we walked in the door she went and got Clyde out of bed. My mama squeezed our hand and Mrs. Logan’s uninjured one as Clyde sat between her legs and helped bring my sister Annie to us. His eyes were locked on your face almost every time he looked away from what he was doing, and at that moment you felt more deeply for Clyde Logan than you ever had for anyone else. You don’t know if you’d call it love, but you trusted him more than your own husband, that’s for damn sure.

Clyde’s introduction to midwifery came only a year after he lost his left hand and forearm. His daddy had taken him and Flip out hunting when a small band of thieves came and robbed their small camp. They shot their daddy dead and got Clyde in the arm. By the time Flip got the both of them home, the infection was so bad there wasn’t any other option but to amputate his arm right below his elbow. He was sixteen then and became even more reserved and introverted after the surgery, mostly due to the incessant teasing from other boys in town. Even now as he owned the saloon and ran it all on his own on top of working alongside his mama, men in town bullied him and women mocked him.

Your cotton nightgown billowed around you as you got out of bed and patter to the window. At that same moment you hear the front door slam open and heavy footsteps bounding towards your room. Before the fear could register in your body Clyde was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, eyes squinting to adjust to the darkness while he scanned the room for you. “Clyde? What are you doing here in the middle of the night like this? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His eyes follow your voice and his wide gait brought him right in front of you in two steps. “C’mon, things are goin’ south and we need to leave. Move, please! We don’t got much time.” His movements were frantic and when you finally looked at his face you could see the fear etched into his features. “What’s happening? Go where? Dammit, Clyde, what are you doing?” As your questions remain unanswered, Clyde shuffles around your dark room and pulls out a pair of boots you would wear when working around the horses with him. He squats down and taps your ankle, silently asking to slip your foot in. You grip his shoulders for balance and feel the warm muscle underneath his waistcoat and button down shirt. Faster than you could process, he slips both boots on your feet and laces them up completely before shooting back up to his towering height above you. “I’ll explain later”, he quickly shoots out, finding one of Arthur’s hats and placing it on your head. “Clementine’s outside waitin’ for us, we gotta get out of here before they light this place up, too.” You don’t have the chance to voice your deepening confusion before Clyde’s warm palm engulfs your own and he is dragging you behind him, down the stairs and out the door. True to his word, Clyde’s horse Clementine is standing right outside your front door, saddled and carrying overstuffed saddlebags. Without a second thought Clyde spins around and lifts you into his arms, settling you onto Clementine’s back. You scoot forward as much you can to make room for Clyde, leaning forward to greet the sweet horse with soft strokes to her neck and sweet greetings to her ears. She huffs happily in response, being almost as comfortable with you as she was with Clyde. You look around and see many of the buildings along the main road are drowning in flames of bright red and orange, licking their way towards the far side of your house. People are out in the street shouting, gunfire accompanying the crackling sounds of the flames. In one swift motion Clyde climbs up onto his horse’s back. You assist Clyde to get both reins in his one hand in front of you, his other bicep curling around you before he clicks at his horse and you're speeding off into the night.

[crit20art]

fuck it. jmart kid fic preview

Somewhere Else, 2027

The walk between work and home is always longer going than it is coming. Maybe it’s the fatigue. Maybe it’s some subtle undulation of space. There are things like that here, shimmering at the edges of Jon’s perception, dewdrop-spangled webs catching stray slips of this reality’s sunlight. They aren’t Hilltop tears, just threadbare stretches, places where this world rubs up against the next. Made it a prime candidate for the invasion of Fear, Jon supposes.

The thought sends a shudder through the tension of his upper back, and his jaw clenches, and-- fuck, he’s bitten the goddamn cigarette in half. “Blast it,” he hisses, and spits unceremoniously into the street. He gets a look from a passerby, and has to swallow back the urge to return a much eviler eye. 

He lights up as soon as he gets home. Leans out the window on his aching elbows, closes his eyes, and lets the smoke roll through him. The nicotine glitters around the crown of his skull, stimulating neural pathways that don’t get much exercise outside of this ritual. What did he used to do to feel alive?

Live, probably. 

He’s just tipping a second cig into his palm when knocking begins to resound through his flat. He stands straight and frowns at the dead-bolted door. While he (understandably, he thinks) has some unpleasant associations with knocking, this is not the ominous sort that he might have once feared; it’s light and fast and won’t give it a rest. Monsters have more restraint than that, he thinks. Probably some kid harassing him.

Grumbling like the old man he’s quickly becoming, he grabs his cane and snaps, “Alright, alright,” as he approaches the door. The knocking falters. He opens the door.

His own eyes blink back at him.

Jon drops his cane. It clatters to his faux-wood floor. He’s swaying, then; he goes proper dizzy, and only snaps back to full lucidity when his shoulder crumples into the door frame. He leans there, mouth agape, and blinks stupidly as the child on his doorstep stoops to pick up his cane. She holds it out to him. He stares at her.

She’s tall for her age. (Nine, he knows without Knowing.) Her warm brown cheeks are still soft with baby fat, and freckles crowd her nose. Wild hair wreaths her head and shoulders, controlled only by glittery barrettes tucked into the curly black jungle.

“Uh hi,” she says, and then she smiles. It’s a smile he knows better than his own, captured somehow on this child’s lips. Jon’s knees waver.

“Holy fuck,” he says.

Her smile falls, and she scrunches her nose at him. The gesture is so familiar that Jon thinks he might pass out.

“Uh--” Jon tries to stand upright, but he just staggers and sinks back against the door jamb. “You-- How-- you’re--”

“Are you gonna fall down?” she asks.

“A-almost certainly,” says Jon. She stretches her arm and shakes it a bit, bringing his attention to the cane she’s still offering him. Finally, he makes himself take it. “You’re. I, uh. Um.”

“I’m Aamal,” she says. 

Ah. There it is. Jon’s knees give.

He slumps to the floor, startling the child’s brown eyes saucer-large. Before she can react further, Jon gasps, “How- h-how are you here?”

“I followed the black ribbons,” she says. 

Flashes of magnetic tape tangle across Jon’s memory, as clear to him today as they were nine years ago, when the noose of them cinched tight around everything he loved. 

“They… ah. Right.” Jon lifts a shaking hand to his face, as if touching something real will steady him, and stares at his guest. His--

His daughter.

“Yes, um,” he whispers, shaking, “H-hello… Aamal.” Her name feels small and sacred on his tongue, fragile as a dissolving wafer. How unworthy he is, to say it. “You’re, uh. Y-you’re- you’re here.” His hand skitters up through his hair, displacing combed-back licks of grey over his forehead. “H-how- how- how did you find me?”

And Aamal says, very matter-of-factly, “I saw you in my dream.”

Jon inhales so sharply that he almost chokes. “Your--?”

“My dream,” Aamal confirms, and bounces on her heels. “I have it every night. I thought it was a bad dream at first, because it was so scary? Like, the world was angry and hungry and I knew it wanted to eat me up while the sky watched. But then I realised that wasn’t gonna happen, because my daddies were there with me, and they’d keep me safe.”

Jon covers his mouth again. Teardrops slip over his fingers.

“You are my daddy, right?” Aamal asks, her cheeriness shrinking to something timid, little hands fluttering together nervously. “That’s how it felt in the dreams.”

“Uh- y-yes? I-- yeah. Yeah.” Fingertips still trembling against his lips, it occurs distantly to Jon that it’s probably time for him to pull himself together and try to offer some kind of comfort to the child who, regardless of whatever uncertainties surround her, has definitely hopped dimensions to be here. Gritting his teeth, he gets his cane under him and forces himself to slide back up the doorframe, then takes a few moments to catch his breath.

“Yes,” he says, finally, when he knows the words will come out steadily. “I, uh. I-I’m your father. My name is, uh, it’s Jon. Jonathan Sims. Um. You can- just- you can call me that.”

“Okay, That.” Aamal grins very widely and looks at him with expectant eyes.

“Oh,” says Jon, after an embarrassingly long pause. “Ha. Yes, uh. Call me ‘That,’ right. Um.” He takes a deep breath, and it punches back out of him in a nervous, awkward chuckle that would make most adults uncomfortable. Aamal just beams, and seems proud to have got a laugh out of him. “Well- no sense having this discussion in the hall, is there? Uh, do- do come in.” He stands aside and gestures at the dim, sparse interior of his flat. He does not blame Aamal for the hesitation that precedes her entering. Reflexively, Jon leans out into the hall and squints one way, then the other. Satisfied, at least, that no one is lying in wait, he shuts and bolts the door. 

He turns, and finds for the first time since he signed for this flat that he is not alone in it. His daughter stands in the middle of his thrifted rug, her hands buried in the pockets of her dungarees and her freckles pinched together by her scrunched nose.

She’s here. She’s right here.

“It stinks in here,” she says.

Jon laughs. It’s hoarse and stale, bitten back the moment he realises how wrong it sounds. He clears his throat. “Yes, ah. Smoking’s a nasty habit.” He glances at the pack of cigarettes abandoned on his windowsill, and feels an odd twinge of guilt in his longing for a puff to steady himself. He looks back at Aamal, who has begun to make a circle of the room, touching his shelves, poking at the clutter that always builds up despite his best efforts.

“Um,” says Jon. Aamal doesn’t look at him. She’s shuffling through his books, the little divot between her brows settling deeper as she considers each second-hand paperback. 

Jon clears his throat. “Do you, uh, like to read?”

Aamal turns her frown on him, mouth a squiggle of confusion. “Did you cut out all the eyes?”

Ah. 

“I, uh. Well- uh.” He picks at the ragged grip of his cane. “That’s-- it- it hardly matters right now,” he manages, exhaling raggedly. Aamal opens her mouth, but he seizes what momentum he’s collected and asks, “Are you here alone? Where’s- do you still know Georgie and Melanie?”

Aamal forgets the books instantly, her face lighting up at the names. “You know Mummy and Mellie?”

“Mum- and--? Oh! Oh, they.” His throat feels like it might close up. “They raised you, then.”

“Yeah, they’re my mums.” Aamal wanders past Jon and drops onto his couch, gasping a squeak when the cushion sinks lower than she was apparently expecting. She wriggles for a moment as if trying to get comfortable. “Do you have any snacks?”

Whiplash-stricken, Jon flounders for a few moments before saying, “Maybe?”

Aamal’s brow drops like she doesn’t find that very promising, but she hops up from the couch and makes a beeline for his tiny kitchen. She’s sticking her head into his fridge before he plucks up enough lucidity to follow her.

“Do you like, ah--” What do kids like? What did he like as a kid? “Uh, how about a sandwich?”

“Sure,” says Aamal. She pulls her preferred makings, then rests her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands, and watches Jon assemble. A long-lost hope flutters at the edge of Jon’s memory, a future he’d once imagined: a little face looking up at him, a meal to be prepared, a solid presence at his side, stolen kisses that might make their daughter stick out her tongue and make gross-out noises in the way of children too young to know how rare and precious it is for their parents to love each other so easily.

“Does your hand hurt?” Aamal asks.

Jon comes back to himself. He blinks down at his hands; habitually, he’s only using the one, letting the other rest half-curled on the counter. “Ah. No, n-not today.”

Aamal stares for a moment, then draws a sharp breath and looks Jon in the eye. “Sorry!”

Jon lifts a brow. “What? Why?”

“It’s rude to ask about scars,” Aamal informs him, and something in her intonation sounds so like Georgie that it twists up Jon’s stomach in an odd amalgamation of fondness and loss. 

“Ah- well, as a general rule, maybe. But it’s alright.” He clears his throat, then stretches his burned hand with a small wince at its stiffness. Aamal watches his shaky fingers unfurl, and her eyes are intent, and maybe he’s imagining it, but… there’s a kindness there, he thinks. He tries not to think of other kind brown eyes, of other gazes falling so gently on his scars. “It hurts less than it used to,” he says softly. “I’ve had it since… lord, about a year before you were born, actually. Eleven months, almost to the day.”

At that, Aamal’s eyes grow wide. “Oh! Did you have me? Like, when I was born?”

“Oh! Uh, n-no, that wasn’t me.” Jon pulls his hand back, feeling very suddenly out of his depth. “Your, uh- did Geo-- did your mums tell you about that?” 

“Yeah. They told me that before they adopted me, my parents were two boys, but I wasn’t confused or anything. I know all about genders,” she says, with all the confidence of a tenured professor. Then she looks around, as if suddenly noticing an absence. “Wait, where’s my other daddy?” She turns back to Jon, and he’s struck by the worst urge to look away. “Will he be back soon?”

Jon meets her hopeful eyes, and for the first time in years, actually feels the wound yawning wide in his chest, deeper and bloodier than the scar through his heart has ever been. 

“No,” he says, very softly. Aamal’s face falls, her brows drawn in question. Jon can’t look at her. He stares at his good hand, knuckles yellowed by his grip on the edge of the counter. 

“He, uh.” He swallows. It goes down like rocks. “He’s not coming back.”

“Why?” Her voice is high, pinched with a note of anger. Unbidden, Jon chokes out a small, miserable laugh.

She sounds just like Martin.

“Because,” he says, raw, both hands shaking now, “I messed up very, very badly.”

thanks for reading this lil preview!! i’m almost finished with ch 1 and planning to publish on ao3 next week. it’s gonna alternate between the present and the past, told through Jon’s POV post-200, and Martin’s POV throughout season 4/5. 

[statelies]

(   *  💀  /  jessie mei li, questioning, she/they )  —  is that emmeline vance i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty year old hufflepuff, returning for their sixth school year, but their friends would tell you that they are industrious & compassionate as well as blunt & graceless. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re muggleborn, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: falling asleep studying over open books, split open pomegranates, working under flickering candlelight, casual intimacy between friends, a kitchen full of laughter.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Izzie Stevens (Grey’s Anatomy), Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy) (+ Sara Ramirez, the they/she icon we all deserve), Kara Danvers (Supergirl), Charles Boyle (Brooklyn 99), Alina Starkov (Shadow and Bone), Janet (Not a Girl) (The Good Place), Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied Racism.

LINKS: Pinterest. Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Emmeline Huan Vance

nicknames ➵ Emmy; Emma; Line; Em; Melly; Melsy; Vance; Hurricane

pronouns ➵ she/they/her/them

birthdate / age ➵ October 24th, 1959, 09:47 am / 20 years old

birthplace ➵ Brighton, East Sussex

childhood home ➵ Unknown home in Brighton, East Sussex — 162 Orchard Croft, Harlow, Essex

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ agnostic; paternal grandparents were Methodist ( Protestant ) while maternal grandparents were also Christian

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 2 inches / 157.5 cm

weight ➵ 48 kg / 106lb

body type ➵ hourglass shaped figure

hair ➵ dark brown, bordering on black; soft and wavy

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ right

FC ➵ Jessie Mei Li

voice ➵ Jessie Mei Li

special characteristics ➵

small waist

has a birthmark on her right ankle that looks like an apple

pierced septum

smells of ➵

lavender hand lotion

pomegranate

cardamom, jasmine and orange blossom perfume

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ scorpio sun (x); sagittarius rising; cancer moon

MBTI ➵ ISFJ (“The Defender”)

positive traits ➵ industrious; compassionate; generous; warmhearted; benevolent; selfless; observant; honest; personable; kind.

negative traits ➵ blunt; graceless; meticulous; well-meaning; impatient; internalizes feelings; oversensitive; tactless; overbearing; clumsy.

likes ➵ Pumpkin pasties; duelling club; laughter; the rush of incoming patients; cooking for friends; Ballycastle Bats; Diagon Alley; being barefoot at the beach; roadtrips; apple juice; hugs from friends; nicknames; vanilla candles; the heat of a boiling cauldron; Sugar Quills; warm sweaters; pizza; pomegranate seeds; cheek kisses; taking photographs; finishing essays early; coffee with milk and two sugars; Queen; Aston Villa; cats

dislikes ➵ spam (the food); apparition; the Daily Prophet; starless nights; Kenmare Kestrels; karaoke; losing bets; skinned knees; snakes; pigeons; the colour fuschia (it’s too bright); ticking clocks; banana flavouring; funerals; Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans; Celestina Warbeck; mayonnaise; blue M&Ms; her lao ye; the word mudblood; leprechauns; fans of Kenmare Kestrels; losing football matches; witch Halloween costumes; rugby

amortentia ➵

birthday cake

fresh mint

old books

orange blossom

M A G I C

blood status ➵ muggleborn

wand ➵ Aspen, dragon heartstring core, 8 inches, hard

wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

patronus ➵ Hippo

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Hufflepuff, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Hufflepuff Prefect / September 1979 - June 1981

Herbology Club & Greenhouse Keepers / September 1977 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1979 - June 1981

Wenlock Study Club / September 1979 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - E

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

walnut allergy

hayfever

pets ➵

Jíngyi; the long-eared owl

Shu; the white cat

handwriting ➵ Abuget

F A M I L Y

Deirdre (née Wilkinson) Vance ➵ paternal grandmother; retired nurse; deceased May. 1980

Edward Vance ➵ grandfather; retired soldier and miner; deceased Jan. 1980

Xiulan Wong ( Wong Xiulan ) ➵ maternal grandmother (lao lao); homeschooled; housewife; alive

Da Wong ( Wong Da ) ➵ maternal grandfather (lao ye); homeschooled; shop-owner; alive

Dr. Cillian Vance ➵ father; worked for/with the Red Cross UK (and the Hong Kong Red Cross); alive

Mei (née Wong) Vance ➵ mother; teaching assistant; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

emmeline had always known they were different. at first, it was because of her skin, the way she looked and spoke and could never find anyone to play with on the playground, her chinese middle name and her lao lao being the one to pick her up from school every morning. she would cry to her mother at night, cling to her arms like they were the port keeping her safe from the storm, and listen to her father sing, voice warm and tender as she drifted to sleep, but she never got the answers for why she was treated differently — never got answers for why she was the only non-white child in her school, never got answers for why they hated her so much, hated her existence. but she weathered through primary school, finding her footing in secondary school with her only friend, aisha, who never cared that she was different, that sometimes she could do things that nobody else seemed able to do, that she’d been encouraged to always tell the truth, nothing but the truth, that sometimes she’d say things that hurt, things that stung even though she never meant for them to.

for a while, the feeling of being wholly different faded, or at least, emmeline didn’t notice it quite so prominently anymore, and then suddenly it appeared again — but this time it had been because she didn’t know if she always felt like a girl. not a girl in the traditional sense, anyway, not some days. she liked dresses and fancy heeled shoes and tiaras, but found herself equally at home in plaid shirts and her father’s way-too-big suit jacket and kicking around a football, and for a half-asian barely a teenage… person (she’s still working on it), suspended constantly between two identities, it confused them (even though they’re perfectly aware now that those things are superficial, but the feeling still remains). the only person they ever talked to about it back then was aisha — their lifeline, their best friend, the one their parents reluctantly approved of because they had been so lonely for so long. while aisha was crushing on boys, sweaty and loud and just this side of too teasing, and starting to wear makeup and changing herself, emmeline was trying to find where she fit in, trying to understand who she was, who she is, why they feel so different.

in the midst of all that, emmeline’s letter to hogwarts came. just another difference for emmeline to feel, the knowledge that they have magic was unexpected and tore her family in two. the family she loved - her mother, her father, her lao lao and lao ye, and granny and pops - all had differing opinions on whether or not to accept it, whether or not to send them to school and deal with the fact, up front, that emmeline was, and always would be, special. in the end, emmeline’s pops snuck her out, following instructions from a professor mcgonagall, to find diagon alley, the place where emmeline suddenly felt she fit in. she could feel the magic in the air, could feel it almost crackling in the space around her, almost inviting her in. of course, it took some time — a little too much time, really — to buy everything she needed, and when she cried into her ice cream on the way home, overwhelmed and tired and feeling so many things, he was the one who held her all the way home. 

he and their granny were the only ones there to send them off the hogwarts that first year, their parents reluctant to accept anything so unnatural about their child, but emmeline hardly cared at the time (even though it hit them later that night and they sobbed into their pillow), too excited to remember to even wave, too excited to remember to cry because she was leaving behind the only friend she’d ever truly known, and when they saw hogwarts, that castle appearing, they just knew. they were home. she knows, after years and years of being torn between two identities on so many different fronts, that people aren’y happy she’s here, happy she has magic, happy she calls this place her home away from home, that she laughs loud at the hufflepuff table and wears yellow and black face paint for quidditch matches and tried out for the muggle football team, but there’s nothing they can say to change who she is, her pride in the blood flowing through her veins, in the magic at her fingertips. emmeline’s always known they’re different, but having magic, being home at hogwarts, is the first time she’s ever felt proud to be so.

[autumnslance]

MiqoMarch 23: Love

(This is not the usual happy-go-lucky PunchyCat story. Sorry not sorry. Discussion of mental health/disability below. Also on Ao3 in “Slices of Light.”)

Hamon watched the girl next to him chew her bottom lip and shift her weight on her feet like she was getting ready for a round in the ring, not about to walk into her childhood home. It was overall uncharacteristic for her, but he fully understood why. Before he could say anything, C’oretta spoke up.

“Are we really sure this is the right thing to do I mean she already gets so confused.”

“That confusion is part of the trouble,” Hamon reminded her. “She near set fire to the place.”

C’oretta sagged. Her cloudy demeanor didn’t fit the cherry highlights in her gold hair, or the blindingly bright pink dress she wore. Her usual smile was missing from her sweet face. If he looked, he could pick out exactly which traits she’d inherited from each parent, his friends almost since they had been her age now. It only made her conflicted expression harder for him to see.

She squared her shoulders and skipped up the steps to enter the house, Hamon following at a more reasonable pace.

The sitting room was low lit, some furnishings and items on one side tossed about as if someone had been in a frenzied search. C’leiha sat at a small table, primly sipping her tea. She wore one of her old dancer outfits with shaky cosmetics on her face and her grey-streaked auburn hair loosely styled, a favorite pin--one of Khell’s first gifts to her--threaded into a sidebraid.

The young midlander nurse wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, Miss C’oretta, I haven’t been able to clean since her...episode earlier. But we had a nice time dressing up this afternoon, didn’t we, Miss C’leiha?”

“It’s all right I know it’s a lot hello Mama how are you doing today?” C’oretta knelt by her mother’s chair.

C’leiha’s distant look focused, then brightened, and she touched her daughter's hair. “Oretta! Did you leave school early again, kitten? You can wait for Papa with me, but no sweet ice for you!”

“Just go along with it,” the nurse urged quietly. “Trying to make her remember aught else will only cause distress.”

Which was what had happened earlier. Some well-meaning fool of an old friend had become frustrated and tried to remind C’leiha that her beloved husband was dead for years now.

When the Calamity had happened, C’leiha and C’oretta had watched Khell fall in the rioting crowds, trampled by terrified and angry mobs. Something in the older woman’s mind had snapped during those tumultuous events and she had never recovered, her despair turning to full on delusion. Something about the Calamity and the aetheric shifts it had caused across the realm had prematurely brought on a condition she would have been susceptible to in her old age, according to the chirugeons and conjurers examining her over the years since. They had no other explanations, aside from her grief and the trauma of that day.

Whatever it was, Hamon thought it wasn’t fair to see in a woman decades his junior who ought to still be enjoying her life. But Khell had been her everything, and without him C’leiha was lost.

He kept an ear to where C’oretta made non-committal responses to her mother’s jabbering as he spoke to the nurse. “We’ve made arrangements to get her in Saint Popoli’s. If you like, they’ve agreed to let you keep working with her, since you’re familiar. At least until you find something else, while their staff learns her quirks.”

The nurse nodded. “Thank you, Master Hamon; I’d hate to just leave her. As long as Miss C’oretta’s fine with everything.”

“She ain’t, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s about what’s best for C’leiha.” He looked at the pair of miqo’te. C’oretta was convincing her mother in a careful, roundabout way to go on a walk with her--a walk that would end at the hospital they would leave the woman in. “I’m having some of the boys come by to help pack up her things for her room there; the fella in charge says for her condition that’ll help keep her calm and from trying to find her way out.” He chuckled. “My back won’t let me help with none of the heavy lifting!”

The nurse smiled in response. “I understand, and I do think that’d be best.”

He briefly thought of suggesting the young lady could nurse him later, but this wasn’t the time or place. Perhaps once they had C’leiha settled.

“All right I think we’re ready,” C’oretta said. She was standing next to her mother, arms and hands linked. C’leiha was just an ilm or two taller, but seemed smaller and thinner than Hamon remembered; his recollection of C’leiha in her dancing days was a lusciously curvy woman who seemed to fill a room with her sparkling laughter and quick speech, her bright garments teasing the eyes with what they hid and revealed.

This dolled up shadow clinging to her daughter’s arm made his old heart ache.

C’leiha looked up, noticing him for the first time. “Master Hamon! How lovely to see you, are you coming with us to meet Khell too?”

His smile felt tight. “Aye, lass, we’ll all go together. You know I’m always happy to spend time in the presence of such lovely ladies, hehe!”

“Oh Hamon, you’re always such a flirt,” C’leiha teased. She kept up the conversation as they left the house and made their way through the streets. Nevermind her talk about a show she was performing in was well over a decade out of date. They listened and nodded and responded politely. Hells, Hamon thought he vaguely recalled having this exact conversation with her before, but it was like a hundred others lost in the fog of his own memories.

Funny how C’leiha could remember it so clearly, but nothing in the years since.

They reached Saint Popoli’s, and he feared there would be another scene, but the nurse--godsdammit, what was her name? His own mind really was going too, he’d have to ask Chuchuto later as she always remembered these details--stepped in smoothly. “Let’s wait inside Miss C’leiha, while Master Hamon sees to Miss C’oretta.”

“Oh yes, Melly, that’ll be nice, it’s so hot out here,” C’leiha replied, walking with the young woman.

Hamon was certain the nurse’s name was not Melly; that had been one of C’leiha’s friends in her old dance troupe.

C’oretta sighed heavily as her mother was escorted inside. “I hope I did the right thing.”

“I think so,” Hamon said, patting her shoulder. “It’s what’s best for her, and you’re a good girl for doing what she needs, even if it’s hard.”

“She doesn’t even see me anymore like for awhile I thought she was doing better and she seemed so excited for all the dances I was learning and the adventures I was having--I never told her about all the really dangerous things of course--but now she doesn’t even remember and acts like I’m still a child and waits for Papa all the time like he’s still here.”

“Maybe your Scion friends can think of something, given all the other outlandish stuff they pull. Rumor says they’ve even found a cure for tempering. If they can do that, then who knows. Not this old man, hehe.”

She only nodded absently. “I suppose I can ask and see if there’s a way to adjust the process that could make for an interesting study at least but it’s not like she’s been tempered either unless you consider a love like my parents had to be similar to it with the way she’s been.” C’oretta frowned--a wholly alien expression on her face, as she looked up at the building once more. “I hope I never love someone so much.”

Something in his own heart broke. “C’oretta, you know that ain’t how it works—”

“Thanks for the help Master Hamon I really appreciate the support but I gotta go now before Iyna makes bacon outta Violet and strings me up by my tail for being later than I said I’d be I’ll stop by the guild later for some sparring practice all right?” She smiled brightly, fakely, as she waved and dashed off before he could respond again.

Hamon let out a frustrated breath and stretched his aching back. He was really too old for all of this. He spared no further look to the building behind him, his watery eyes instead tracking the bright pink blur weaving through the street until she vanished around a corner.

Too many others just weren’t old enough.

[brianc521]

Shawns kids tell him that he’s always away and Shawn gets really upset that he’s not in their lives enough but y/n reassures him

Shawn’s in the bedroom, packing up his suitcase for his late flight to LA for a promo video that needs to be filmed. Since he’s going Andrew also scheduled a MTV interview and rehearsal for a new Unplugged he’ll film in the next month.

“Dad!” Mason skids into the room, new baseball glove on his hand. “Can we play?” 

Shawn looks up, in the middle of folding a shirt. “Sorry Bud, I’ve got to pack up before I have to leave tonight.” 

“You’re leaving tonight?” Mason asks, looking up with wide eyes. 

“Yeah remember I told you I had that interview.” 

Mason, nods, turning and walking down the hall. The 8 year olds bottom lip trembling as he busts into his  room. 

Melody pokes her head out when she hears a door slam. Shawn steps out moments later looking back and forth down the hall. It’s then that a loud thump sounds from his sons room.

He starts to step forward to stop the ruckus but Melody stops her Dad. 

“I’ve got it Dad.” 

Shawn stops, looking to his 15 year old. He watches her walk in, and softly shut the door behind her. He steps up to the door, pushing his ear to the wood. 

“What’s the matter Mase?” 

“Dad’s leaving again.” Mason grumbles. Shawn’s heart stops and he presses his ear harder to the door.

He doesn’t realize that you step up on the last step of the stairs, watching him. 

“He told us remember Mason, that he has that interview and rehearsal.” 

“He always has an interview and rehearsal.” Mason whines. 

“It’s his job Buddy. It’s how we pay for this house, and our food. Your baseball gear and my dance class.” 

“Sometimes I wish Dad had a normal job.” 

Shawn’s brows furrow and his heart breaks the more he listens to his kids talk. 

“You don’t mean that. If Dad had a normal job we wouldn’t get to travel, and meet all your favorite celebrities.”

“Mellie,” Mason asks softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think we’re enough for Dad?” 

Shawn slumps into the wall as if he’d been hit. 

“What? What do you mean?” Melody screeches. 

“Is Dad happy with just us? Does he leave us all the time because he doesn’t like being home? My friend Kevin said his Mommy and Daddy fight a lot so he doesn’t like to be at home because they’re not happy. Is Daddy happy?” 

He is just about to burst through the door when he hears his daughter speak up. 

“Okay listen.” She starts. “Our Mom and Dad do not fight. Our Mom and Dad are so in love, so you won’t ever have to worry about our parents fighting. And of course Dad is happy with us. He tells us everyday we’re his whole world right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Has Dad ever lied to you?” 

“No.” Mason sniffs.

“So why would he start now?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I know you don’t like it when Dad leaves all the time. But it’s how he works Buddy. Every adult has to have a job to provide for their families. Dad wants the absolute best for us, and himself. And for us to have the best, Dad has to do some work that requires him to be away from home. You should talk to Mom. She’ll tell you all about how much Dad was away when they first got married. She’ll explain that now that we’re here, Dad’s home more than he ever has been.” 

“Really? He would leave more before us?” 

“Dad would tour the world, you know when we go to concerts and Dad tells you where the band is going next?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Dad used to be the band that went to a different place every night. He doesn’t do that anymore, because he wants to be with us as much as he can be. He loves us so much, he’s given up a lot for us. You should ask Mom tonight when you have a moment alone with her.” 

“Okay.” He sniffs. “Hey Mellie?” 

“Yeah Mason?”

“Will you play catch with me?” 

“Sure Buddy, let’s go get my glove.” 

Shawn steps back, catching your stare and sighing as you frown at him. You step up and wipe the few tears from his cheeks. 

The door opens, revealing both his kids. “Hey Mom,” Mason stops before following his sister down the stairs. “Can we talk tonight?” 

“Sure Mason, what’s up?” 

“It’s okay, later Mom.” 

With that you both watch your kids walk down to the garage.

You look up at Shawn and watch as his face crumbles now that the kids are out of sight. “Hey, what’s the matter?” You jump into action, wrapping your arms around his neck. He buries his face into your neck and cries silently. 

“M’Cancelling my flight.” He stands straight, walking to the bedroom.

“What?” You follow him.

“Cancelling everything.” 

“Hey!” You snag his phone before he can make any big decisions like that. “What’s happening?” 

“Mason thinks I’m not happy here, with you and with him and Mel.” 

“No he doesn’t.” You shake your head.

“He does, he just asked Mel if I was happy here. If I leave all the time because I’m not happy.” 

“Shawn.” You sigh.

“He thinks I don’t love him. My son thinks I don’t love him.” Shawn wails, covering his face with his hands. 

“Shawn Peter,” You tug at his curls so he has to look at you. “Melody knows that her Dad loves her more than anything. Mason knows his Dad loves him more than anything. I know that my husband loves me more than anything.” 

Shawn just blinks at you. 

“He doesn’t understand it all right now. Melody was the same way.” 

“No she wasn’t.” Shawn shakes his head. “She never questioned if I loved her or if-”

“She did.” You cup his chin. “You just weren’t around that time when she asked.” 

“What?” He breathes out, his whole world crumbling again. 

“She asked me one night if you were ever coming back and why you always left her.” Shawn shuts his eyes and more tears drop down his cheeks. “Would you listen to me.” You wipe his tears. “I’m not trying to say this to hurt you.” 

“It is though, I mean-”

“Shh.” You plant your lips to his. “She asked me one time, and I explained to her that yes you leave, but you always come back. I explained why you leave, and why you needed to leave sometimes. How much you don’t want to leave, and how it hurts you too.” 

Shawn looks up at you. 

“She understood after that, and she understands now. Mason just needs that explanation too.” 

“That’s what she meant when she told him to talk to you.” 

“That must be what he wants to talk about, I promise you, they know you love them. I know you love them, not only do you tell them everyday but I tell them for you everyday. They know, he just needs to be explained too again.”

“You I love you too right?” Shawn’s hands rest on your hips. 

“I do.” 

“And that I hated leaving you when we were dating?” 

You giggle, nodding. “Those days seem so far away now.” 

“And they’re never coming back.” He declares. 

“Okay Baby, you need to pack though.” 

Shawn looks over his shoulder at the half packed suitcase and then his ears perk up at the sound of his children's laughter. 

“No, I need to go play catch right now.” He stands. 

“Shawn-” Before you can finish responding you’re thrown over his shoulder and taken hostage outside. 

“Got room for two more?” Shawn asks walking out, greeting his kids with you hanging off his shoulder. 

“Mom?” Mason asks as you giggle away. 

“She needed some persuading to come play, help me out?” Shawn eyes his son. 

“Come on Mom you can be on my team, Melody can be teamed up with Dad.” 

[efrmellifer]

Development

(CW discussion of pregnancy)

Etien was euphemistically calling them “episodes,” these moments of feeling sick to her stomach, gripping Aymeric’s sleeve to give herself something to center her concentration on other than the strong wave of nausea.

They passed, and usually without any escalation of the sickness, but when it was happening with increasing regularity, the couple’s suspicions were raised.

They’d been discussing back and forth whether medical attention was required, and whether it was even a good idea, when Etien was still reliably trudging her way through life, a few older injuries from before seeming to catch up with her. She’d never realized the damage done to her shoulder during her expedition to Sohr Khai, for instance. Nothing that would stop her from shooting, naturally, or she would have noticed far, far sooner. Just a little ache from coming down wrong when she’d been tossed up in the air.

She was going to be fine, of that she was sure. And Aymeric knew that. Still, he felt the urge to make sure she would be okay without a lengthy convalescence. Just because he wanted to keep her at home didn’t mean he wanted her confined to bed and miserable the whole time.

But he didn’t need to convince her much more when even Etien thought it had gone on long enough to be more than just a little suspicious.

"Don't force yourself to recover, Etien," Aymeric murmured, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

She panted, swallowing thickly. "Thank you."

"Shh," he soothed. "Do you want some more water?"

She shook her head. Slowly, her breaths relaxed, and then she lay down again with a heavy sigh.

"Do you want a cool cloth?"

Now Etien nodded, sighing out her thanks again as Aymeric draped the cloth across her forehead, dampening a few strands of hair strayed from her braid.

"You look less pale. How are you feeling?"

She lifted the collar of her dress, peering past her undergarments. "I've decided you can take me to the chirurgeon, if that's what you're asking."

_

Captain Whitecape lifted his hand from Etien’s slightly-swollen stomach. “Mistress Melli--” he looked over to Aymeric, seeing only eyebrows lifted in question, and cleared his throat-- “ahem. Lady Borel. About how long ago did this start?”

She tipped her head, eyes squinting. “The nausea? About a moon ago in earnest. The pinkening is new.”

Now Whitecape sighed. “That certainly sounds like pregnancy. Should we have a medical expert with more pertinent knowledge here?”

Etien chewed her lip before answering. “I think that might be a good idea.”

“Well, before we go carting people around from all over Aldenard, do you feel different?”

She squinted again. “Different, yes. But I don’t know if that means pregnant. I’d never actually been,” she trailed off, her voice lowering, “bred before, not like that, so who’s to say this isn’t what it feels like?” She paused. “I suppose that sounds silly; if it were always like this, tribes would never get anything done, would they?”

Whitecape looked between the couple, Etien still gnawing on her lip, ears flattening and cheeks darkening in shame, and Aymeric looking like he was nearing a panic.

With a gentle click of his tongue, he tried to settle them both. “I urge both of you not to fret—Etien, in case you are carrying, and Aymeric, because the last thing we need is her inheriting your stress and confounding everything.”

Etien made a noise halfway between a sigh and a laugh, letting Aymeric slide his hand into hers. “He is right. I’ll be okay, darling.”

"I would ask you two to come back in a few days, when hopefully I will have consulted with professionals more familiar with Miqo'te."

_

A few days later, when they returned, it took only one look (followed by a very brief examination) from the Gridanian chirurgeon to make an assessment.

“Congratulations,” she commented, laying one hand a little below Etien’s sternum, and shaking Aymeric’s hand with the other, “unlikely as it should be, you two are going to be parents.”

Etien swallowed. “How do you… know?”

“Well, I could be poetic and say you’re glowing.” She laughed. “But you’re flushed despite sitting perfectly still and relaxed, your resting pulse is elevated, and the new blood flow—that’s what had you turning pink in new places—are all fairly strong tells. Do you not want to be pregnant?” She cast a glance up to Aymeric, trying to gauge his reaction while Etien struggled for her answer.

“It isn’t that. I’m more worried about how this will remove me from the line of duty if, gods forbid, some primal comes knocking.”

“Hmm.” A weighty, one could almost call it pregnant, pause followed. “From what I understand, you’ve muddled through a great deal in a worse condition. Though that is a fair point, especially in later moons. Bed rest may be required, on top of all that. Still, even if things go perfectly, you should be limiting travel and strenuous work such as that in another… oh, twelve sennights?”

Etien winced slightly.

“I know,” the chirurgeon cooed. “Think of it not as the limitations being pressed upon you, but as an act of care, for yourself and the brewing kits. Think you can help her with that, m’lord?” She glanced up at Aymeric again.

He, however, looked to Etien. She gave him a smile, warm as the sunshine coming through the window, and he nodded. “I shall do everything in my power.”

“Well then, I’d say that’s our business concluded. I’ll be in contact with Whitecape here, so we can both monitor your progress, due to my having both the forms of expertise required. So far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go.”

Captain Whitecape nodded his agreement, so Etien stood, smoothing her skirts as she thanked them both, then taking Aymeric’s offered arm to make their way back home.

Both were silent along the walk, still chewing on the new discovery.

Kits. They’d been talking about it, dancing around it, since the middle of affairs on the First, but now it was very much a reality (sooner than either had expected, in fact), and it was jarring as much as it was cause for celebration.

Kits. Incredible.

_

Upon their arrival home again, Aymeric eased Etien’s coat off her, and as he hung it by the door, said, “Now, I would have offered anyway, but now that we have become aware of your condition—” he chuckled softly, just a little, at even saying it that way— “I’m even more strongly compelled to do so. Can I get you anything?”

Etien sighed. “It’s been quite the morning, I think I’d like some tea.”

“Anything else?”

“Will you let me have a scone?”

“At this point, I’m spoiling you for two—or more, I suppose—am I not?”

Corners of her eyes crinkling, Etien snorted her way into a laugh.

“Lavender or rose?” Aymeric asked her when she’d settled.

“Oh, I can try something different. Rose.”

_

Pleased to find Etien comfortably seated on the loveseat, Aymeric placed down a tray laden with a single plate of two scones—rose for her and a lavender one for himself—a pot of tea, and their teacups.

Etien immediately reached for the pot, but he brushed her hand away gently.

“Hold on a moment, my dearest. We have an indeterminate number of kits to consider, and I’m given to understand caffeine is less than desirable for those in the family way. As you can see now, I hope, your cup is already full. That rooibos tea you brought back from Doma is caffeine-free.”

“Thank the Fury I actually like it,” she grumbled into her cup. “Thank you.”

They were quiet for a long time, the only sound the soft clinking of china, or of the teapot coming to rest on the table again.

“Easy, Aymeric,” Etien murmured, “I don’t think drinking a whole pot of tea by yourself is going to be good for you, either.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Silence reigned again, but when Aymeric’s gaze settled on Etien and stayed, she broke the shell of quiet.

“Something the matter, darling?”

“Nothing at all. She was right, though, you are glowing.”

Now Etien blushed. “Really?”

“Perhaps I would always have been more likely to see it, were I influenced to, the way I have been now. Because they say expectant mothers do have that additional warmth to them, becoming a sort of unique beauty. And it is so easy for me to find you beautiful. It’s impossible not to, in fact.”

“Aymeric.”

“I would not have said it if I didn’t mean it,” he assured her, wrapping an arm around her.

She scooted closer, pulling her knees up so she could press herself fully against his side. “I know you did. But still, it’s… it made me happy. Like so much did today.”

He kissed her forehead, stroking her hair in accompaniment to the gesture. “Good, good. What an adventure awaits the Warrior of Light! And I’m only thrilled beyond belief that I get to be at your side for it.”

“I would have no other,” she mused, letting her eyes close.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

A period drama featuring an ancestor of Bastien Lykel of TRR

At last Elizabeth visits her future home, Laxton manor, seat of the Lykel family

Word count 3015

Apologies for the long gap between posting chapters. No warnings, just mild fluff

7 An Impressive Location

‘Are we there yet?’ Amelia asked for the tenth time, and Lady Charlotte sighed as the carriage bearing them bounced along the rutted country roads.

‘For goodness sake young lady, pray do not ask again. Walker is sitting with the driver and will tell us when Laxton comes into view.’ she snapped. Elizabeth, Amelia and their parents and Morag, who was acting as Elizabeth’s chaperone, were making their way to her fiancé’s country estate in East Lothian, south of Edinburgh. The maid Jane had gone ahead with their luggage. ��They were to stay for a month, and she would see the place that would become her home once she was married at a date yet to be decided. After that, they would visit her father’s estate and John would in turn see the manor where she and her sister had grown up. Sir James planned to gift a farmhouse and some land to Elizabeth as part of her dowry, and as elder sister she would eventually inherit his estate, leaving the Edinburgh townhouse for Amelia.

The countryside was lush and fertile, and crops of all kinds grew on the rolling green hills. Herds of cattle were raised closer to the city to supply it with fresh milk and other dairy products, but further away, grain and vegetables were grown. Game of all sorts were hunted in the copses and woodland and moor.

Elizabeth was just as excited as her sister, but being older knew how to present a calm countenance in front of her parents. John had gone ahead to arrange things for his guests, and it had been agonising not being able to see him daily. Very soon, they would not only enjoy each other’s company but would be under the same roof for a whole four weeks. She would meet his mother, and hoped to make a good impression. Lady Margaret had spoken of going to live with her widowed sister some twenty miles way once Elizabeth and John were married but she was still eager to be on good terms with her.

‘I’m starving, did we bring anything to eat?’ Amelia complained

‘Now Melly, remember the last time we went to our estate’ Elizabeth said ‘We had to stop twice for your upset stomach. I’m sure John will have something for us when we arrive, but you mustn’t ask – it’s not polite’ Amelia pouted and settled back into the padded seat. It wasn’t long before they heard Walker call out from the driver’s seat that the manor was in sight. Amelia straight away leaned forward to the window.

‘Oh Lizzy, it’s wonderful’ she cried. Elizabeth felt herself a little peeved that her sister had been the first to see her potential new home, and she also leaned to the window to take a look. Her stomach lurched and her heart fluttered to look along the driveway to a pale umber stone building of some two stories with dormer windows in the roof. As they drew closer, she saw the porchway, housing a great oaken door. To either side of the portico there were four tall narrow windows, and the windows of the story above that were smaller, indicating that the ceilings were lower and that the ground floor housed the grandest rooms in the house. To the left of the main building was another wing projecting forward, and well kept flower beds sat under the windows.  

The carriage drew up in front of the door where John stood with a middle aged woman and an older man, dressed simply, so denoting their rank of servants. They slowed to a halt and John stepped forward as Walker jumped down from beside the driver to open the door. Sir James alighted first, shaking hands and exchanging greetings with the Captain before turning to assist his wife.

‘Sir James, how good to see you . I trust your journey was comfortable’

‘Tolerably so, Lykel, it is good to feel the ground under my feet’

‘You have met my manservant Lewis’ John said ‘And here is Mrs Lewis, my housekeeper. They will see to all your needs while you are here.’ Lady Charlotte had alighted and nodded graciously.

‘What a delightful property you have’ she smiled ‘I can see Lizzy will be very comfortable’  

‘It is at your disposal, Lady Charlotte’ he replied ‘My home is your home’ He stepped forward eagerly as Elizabeth appeared to descend. Boldly he placed his hands either side of her waist to swing her out onto the ground. She suppressed a cry of delight, and beamed at him adoringly.

‘Lizzy’ her name fell from his lips with happiness ‘We are together again’ They stood holding hands and gazing at each other for some few seconds, oblivious to all else until Amelia spoke up.

‘Is no-one going to help me out?’ she complained ‘It’s a long way to the ground’ John tore his gaze away from his fiancée.

‘Of course, how amiss of me – allow me, Miss Amelia’ he said, offering her his hand to support her as she stepped down to join the rest of her family. Morag appeared, and Walker helped her down as they started toward the door.

‘Well’ John said ‘I expect you are tired and hungry. Allow me to show you first to the dining room, and then to your rooms to freshen up before we serve luncheon. My mother will attend when we eat’ He offered Lizzy his arm and led them all inside, where they marvelled at the hallway and the grand staircase up to the first floor. Family portraits and landscapes hung on the walls, and pieces of fine furniture supported vases of fresh flowers which scented the air. The polished oak floor was crossed with an intricately patterned carpet, and the ceiling rose up beyond the ground floor with a painted plaster frieze running around the top of the wall. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. It gave an impression of comfort and harmony as well as wealth and stability.

Elizabeth’s eyes roamed the hallway as John lead them to the dining room, which had a view of the grounds to the back of the manor and featured a long dining table and chairs, and an elegant sideboard on which a few dainties were already displayed. Amelia looked longingly at the display, but Lady Charlotte glared at her. She whimpered slightly as John lead them back out into the hallway toward the stairway.

‘I’m sure you’ll all want to freshen up before we eat. My mother will join us – please, take as long as you need’ He indicated the first door which opened onto a large bedroom put aside for Sir James and Lady Charlotte looking out onto the front of the property, and carried on down the corridor, showing them all the two smaller rooms put aside for Elizabeth and Amelia, whose eyes grew large.

‘A whole room to myself?’ she gasped, as at the townhouse she and her sister shared a room. Then her face dropped ‘How will I sleep without Lizzy there?’

‘We can move a cot into your sister’s room if you like’ John conceded, but Lizzy laughed

‘You always sleep well in the countryside, Melly’ she exclaimed ‘It’s so much quieter, and the fresh air will invigorate you so you’ll be tired at bedtime’ She smiled ‘But you can always come to me if you can’t sleep’ She indicated the bed, which was big enough for more than one. John cleared his throat. It was plain to Lizzy that he wanted to say more, but he glanced at her parents and widened his eyes at her to indicate that he might explain when they were alone.

The girl’s rooms looked out over the rear of the property, which overlooked the gardens and orchards and the fields beyond, where cattle and sheep grazed. Woodland stretched to the horizon and the blue sky sported a scattering of clouds. The sun was shining and the day was warm and pleasant. John left them to unpack the trunks that the servants had just brought up It wasn’t long before they had done so with the help of Jane and one of John’s maids. They went to their parents’ room together and knocked, to find that they also were ready. Lady Charlotte insisted on them entering the room so she could inspect them to make sure they were presentable. Elizabeth bore the indignity as the butterflies danced in her stomach at the thought of meeting her future mother-in-law.

At last she met her mother’s approval, and the four of them left to descend the staircase, her parents arm in arm leading the way and the two sisters following dutifully. Her legs felt shaky as they entered the dining room to find John standing at the window talking to a tall elegant dark haired woman dressed in black. Lewis announced them, and John turned, beaming. The family fanned out so that they formed a row facing them. His mother turned also, a cool expression on her face that changed into a polite smile.

‘Ah, the Dalgleish family’ she said ‘how charming to meet you again. Sir James, Lady Charlotte’

Sir James bowed and Lady Charlotte dropped a small curtsy. The two families were equal in rank although Elizabeth’s family had more land and property. The widow came across to greet them as the two girls curtsied and bowed their heads respectfully. She extended her hand for Sir James, who took it and bowed his head without kissing it.

‘Charmed, madam’ he said ‘I’m sorry to have finally visited your home after Sir Walter’s death. We had many an interesting political discussion’ She smiled sadly and went on to his wife, who took her hand politely and bowed her head.

‘So sorry for your loss’ she said sympathetically. ‘May I present our daughters, Elizabeth and Amelia’ Elizabeth was glad her parents had presented themselves first and remembered the recent death of Sir Walter, as it had quite gone out of her mind until she had seen her dressed in black. She felt Lady Margaret’s gaze turn to her and she dropped a deep curtsy, looking at the ground before she straightened, hearing her mother introduce her as if from a long distance away. She felt faint, but was grateful to feel a firm steadying hand on her elbow as John came to her side.

‘Mother, this is Lizzy’ she heard John say warmly.

‘Lady Margaret’ she said firmly although inwardly she quaked, as the Duchess’s expression was solemn ‘It is a pleasure to meet you.’ The widow looked her up and down critically, and the flicker of a smile came to her lips.

‘Likewise my dear’ she replied ‘I look forward to getting to know you better.’ She turned to her sister ‘and this must be Amelia’ she said pleasantly ‘You share a name with my own sister’ she smiled as Amelia dipped into another curtsey.

‘Your grace’ she said timidly. John cleared his throat as the introductions came to an end.

‘You must all be hungry after your journey’ he said brightly, indicating the table, laden with food. Lady Margaret sat at the head of the table, with John on one side and Sir James on the other. Lizzy was seated next to her fiancée, facing her mother. Morag sat next to her mother where she could keep a close watch on her, and Amelia sat next to her sister. She felt stronger now that she was no longer standing, and her stomach growled in sympathy with Amelia’s. She had had little appetite that morning when she left Edinburgh, and the food was enticing. Even now, Amelia was eyeing the platter in front of her longingly.

John indicated the table, and his mother helped herself from a bread basket in front of her. All of them started to select food and pass dishes between each other politely. It was not as formal as an evening meal, but there was protocol to be followed, and all waited for their host to begin eating. There was silence as they followed her example as she bit into the fresh bread and yellow butter. There was cold meat of every kind, boiled eggs and some salad vegetables and preserves as well as scones, cream and jam and fresh fruit. Soon Elizabeth felt stronger as her empty stomach accepted the morsels she carefully and politely consumed.

‘It is a great pleasure to meet my son’s intended’ Lady Margaret said ‘How are you finding Laxton so far, Miss Elizabeth?’ She swallowed and smiled as brightly as she could as she answered

‘I like it very much so far’ she replied ‘I look forward to seeing more of it’

‘Tell me my dear, how do you think you will cope with running the household when you are married?’ Elizabeth thought for a moment before speaking.

‘Of course Mama and Papa have striven to teach me as much as they can about household management, but I am sure every place is unique. I would be pleased for any advice you might be able to give me, Lady Margaret’ Lizzy said. The older woman nodded sagely.

‘Of course I leave a lot of the day to day business to the staff’ she said ‘but I have particular standards as to the appearance of the house and grounds. Of course I am sure you will bring your own personal touch to the estate’

‘Lizzy is very artistic’ her mother cut in ‘I noted the flower arrangements in the hall and in here – they are exquisite’ This brought a smile to their host’s face.

‘I directed the staff exactly how to set them out’ she said ‘I’m happy that you find them pleasing’

‘If the flowers are from your garden, I am eager to see around the grounds’ Elizabeth said enthusiastically.

‘John’s father was very particular about the flowers. He supervised the head gardener and had a rose named after me’ Amelia’s eyes grew wide.

‘Oh how romantic’ she burst out, earning her a glare from her mother, but Lady Margaret smiled at her softly.

‘Indeed it was’ she replied ‘Dear Walter presented it to me on our wedding anniversary but two years ago’ She sighed and her expression became melancholy and all were silent for a moment. It was John who spoke next.

‘We will have a tour around the gardens after we have eaten’ he said ‘You must see the hothouse – you will be surprised as to what Mellors grows there.’ Sir James nodded sagely

‘I have yet to find a head gardener who lives up to expectations’ he said ‘I would dearly love to have a hothouse, but I simply can’t find anyone good enough to plan and cultivate properly’

‘I will ask Mellors if he knows of anyone’ John promised. The rest of the meal was relatively relaxed, although it seemed that their host found it taxing to make conversation. She was polite and attentive, but did not seem to warm to any of them. Elizabeth hoped that was due to her recent bereavement, and not a poor opinion of the family. At the end, she rose and excused herself, saying she was too fatigued to go around the gardens. Elizabeth saw a shadow of disappointment on John’s face, and she found herself speaking up.

‘I would stay and keep you company if it you would find it acceptable’ she said hopefully, genuinely wishing she could break through the Duchess’s melancholy. She smiled wanly in answer.

‘Bless you my dear, I only wish to be alone and rest’ she said ‘Perhaps we could spend some time alone tomorrow if I have more energy.’ Elizabeth nodded, and John stood, taking her hand. He took them to the drawing room to sit and rest a while before going outside. The room was spacious and elegant with a selection of comfortable easy chairs and couches. The grand fireplace sported a large ornate mirror, and the room was adorned with vases of flowers and fine examples of furniture. Heavy curtains were drawn back to show off the view of the gardens, and John engineered to sit close to her and converse while Morag kept watch.

‘Mother is still grieving’ he explained ‘She has been somewhat morose as you may imagine, but she’s glad to have some company, even though she may not show it.’

‘It must be very difficult for her being alone’ Lizzy replied. She looked around the room. ‘Laxton is a fine place’ she said, smiling ‘It’s difficult to imagine myself as mistress here’

‘Is it very different to your father’s estate?’ John asked. She furrowed her brow as she thought.

‘Father’s estate is larger it is true, but the house is not as fine as this manor’ she conceded. He took her hand and squeezed it.

‘I would be happy in a fisherman’s hut if you were by my side’ he said. She laughed

‘As would I’ she said ‘Though I fear I would not have much use for my ballgowns’ She leaned closer to him ‘You know that I would like to travel when we get married’ she said quietly.

‘I am making plans’ he smiled ‘I can’t tell you all, but I plan to take you to London to begin with’

‘Oh how exciting’ she breathed ‘do you think your mother would remain here until we return?’

‘I believe so’ he said ‘But first we must set a date for the wedding. When you have seen around the estate, that is what we should do, if you are pleased with what you see’

‘I am pleased with what I see already’ she murmured, fixing him with her gaze ‘Looking around Laxton is but a pleasant diversion’ Before he could answer, Lady Charlotte spoke

‘Perhaps you would take us outside, Captain Lykel. I am eager to stretch my legs after our journey’ He rose and inclined his head politely, taking Elizabeth’s hand and placing it on his arm.

‘Of course, if you are ready – please follow me’

[badchoicesposts]

Loyalty Or Royalty

Chapter 14

Summary: Mia Bhatt spent years trying to escape her past, trying to escape the feeling of betrayal that was left in her heart after the fire, and she finally had. She was marrying the King of Cordonia and was finally going to get her happily ever after. But, after a momentary lapse in judgement caused her to send a wedding invitation to someone she was sure had forgotten about her, she realizes that sometimes the past has a way of crawling back to you.

Author’s Note: In this fic Anton and The Sons of Earth were caught before the wedding. Also this story will contain flashbacks that will be in italics.

Sorry this chapter took so long. I’ve been in the middle of a semi hiatus but I’m hoping to get on a more consistent uploading schedule now that I’ve finished writing the series. Thanks so much for your patience and for reading!!

Pairing: Liam x MC (Mia Bhatt), Platonic!Colt x MC, Past!Logan x MC

Word Count: 4,388

Taglist: @flowerpowell​​​​​​​, @dcbbw​ , @texaskitten30​​​​​​​, @kingliam2019​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @lovehugsandcandy​ @los-cafeteros​ @desireepow-1986​ @lovemychoices​​​​​​​​, @kimmiedoo5​

Catch Up: Masterlist

“Smoking will kill you one day,” Mia said, as Kaneko continued to smoke a cigar beside her. 

The man let out a soft sigh and stubbed out the last of it, causing Mia to smirk at him.

“You’ll thank me when you don’t get lung cancer,” she said, satisfied with the results of her nagging.

“Or I’ll just smoke when you’re not around to lecture me,” Teppei said back, resting his hand on her back as he led her through the crowd of people at the sideshow. 

When he had asked her if she wanted to come with him, she had said yes, opting to get away from the garage for the first time in what felt like forever. However, she had no interest in inhaling cigar smoke for the next few hours while she was with him. 

“Lecturing you on your poor life choices is how I show my affection,” she said sarcastically, causing Teppei to laugh loudly. 

They moved through the crowd fairly easily, people automatically clearing a path for them once they noticed Kaneko’s presence. It immediately reminded Mia of how intimidating Kaneko truly was, how untouchable he was to these people. It was easy to forget that when she was with him. The man was always kind and gentle with her. He took care of her and protected her even when she mouthed off to him because that’s what parents did and Teppei Kaneko was the closest thing she had to a parent. But, to these people Teppei wasn’t a parent. He was someone to be feared. 

The two of them came to a stop when they noticed Logan walking towards them. He was accompanied by a girl who looked to be about their age wearing a red tube top. Although she was dressed the same as everyone else who was at the sideshow, she still seemed to be out of place. 

“Didn’t expect to find you at a place like this, boss, hanging with a bunch of lowlife tuners,” Logan said, acknowledging Kaneko and nodding discreetly in Mia’s direction to greet her.

“Just taking some meetings,” Kaneko said before turning to the girl. “And who might this be?”

“I’m Ellie. Logan’s date,” the girl said, smiling kindly at Kaneko.

Kaneko eyed the two of them critically before pulling Logan to the side. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see Teppei handing Logan his keys.

“So, how do you know Kaneko?” Ellie asked her, her voice a bit hesitant.

“I’m his charity case,” Mia said sarcastically, forgetting for a moment that Ellie didn’t know her well enough to know she was joking around. “He’s my guardian.”

“Oh, have you known him for long?” she asked.

“My whole life,” Mia clarified.

Logan started to walk back over to them, and he shot Mia a nervous look before wrapping his arm around Ellie’s shoulders. 

“Amelia,” Kaneko called, inclining his head to indicate that she should follow him. 

Mia gave the two of them an awkward smile before following after Kaneko. He handed her a wad of cash and told her to grab something to eat while he took care of some business and that he would meet up with her later. As Mia walked around the sideshow, munching on french fries she got from Vaughn’s truck, she felt unsettled. She and Logan hadn’t been spending much time together since they ended things. In fact she had been spending as much time as she could in Colt’s room. She had been lonely since she and Logan had been pulling away from each other and being in Colt’s room made her feel closer to him. Now seeing Logan with someone else made her heart ache. It was all suddenly too much. 

Mia’s attention suddenly shifted when she heard an excited murmuring all around her. She heard Logan make the bet with Salazar to win Vaughn’s truck, and she couldn’t help but wonder. She wondered why Kaneko gave him the car keys in the first place. She wondered why Logan thought it was a good idea to bet Kaneko’s car. He knew better than that no matter how much he cared about Vaughn. She felt a presence behind her and looked up to see Kaneko standing by her, watching closely as the race began. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. She could tell there was more going on than he was telling her. 

“He’s just showing off for the girl,” Kaneko said, brushing off the topic.

“What if he loses?”

“He won’t.”

Mia wasn’t sure how it was that Kaneko was always right, but he was. Logan won the race and Salazar wasn’t happy about it, beginning to take it out on Kaneko’s car. She cringed at the sight of it being destroyed, but was surprised that Kaneko wasn’t upset with Logan for it. 

“So. This is who you replaced me with. This narcissist,” a familiar voice pulled Mia from her thoughts. 

While he was busy glaring at Logan, she couldn’t fight the huge smile that broke out onto her face. 

“Colt!” she said, excitedly throwing herself into his arms.

He let out a soft groan before hugging her tightly.

“Hey, Mellie,” he said softly.

“Colt? What are you doing in L.A.?” Kaneko asked, a look of shock on his face.

“Hey! Jerk! The only narcissist here is you!” Ellie said, causing Mia to hold back a laugh as Colt released her from his embrace.

At her words, Colt’s cold demeanor went back up. He kept one arm wrapped around Mia’s shoulders as he addressed her.

“This isn’t your concern.”

As they made plans to head back to the garage a selfish part of Mia was glad that Colt was back. She was glad that he was finally home. He handed her the keys to his bike and settled onto it behind her. As the two of them took off down the street, Mia had no idea just how complicated the next few months were going to become.

~~~

Mia walked through the palace halls and to Bastien’s office. She knocked on the door and waited for him to call her in before pushing the door open and settling down onto one of the seats in front of his desk.

“Morning,” she said, faking a smile as she greeted him.

“Good morning. What can I help you with?” he asked, offering her a smile.

Mia took a deep breath. Her mind had been reeling since Drake had asked her what she wanted to do to fix things with Kaneko, and she had finally come to a decision. 

“Do you have any contacts in American law enforcement?”

Bastien seemed surprised at her words. 

“Um, yes, of course. Is there anyone specific that you’re looking to get into contact with?”

“I don’t really know. I’m hoping that maybe the crew and Kaneko can work out some kind of deal with them. I know that I’ll need to talk to him and all of them first. It’s not really my decision to make for them, but this is the only logical solution I could come to. I just want to make sure we have everything in place if they agree to it,” she said.

“I have someone in the FBI that I could put you in contact with,” he said, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a small notebook. 

“Thank you,” she said, leaning back into the chair and letting out a slow breath.

“Are you alright?” Bastien asked, offering her a sympathetic smile. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Because I had my father arrested last night, or because my marriage is already a failure and it’s only been two weeks?” she asked sarcastically. “How is he doing?” 

“He’s been surprisingly calm,” Bastien said, causing her to chuckle softly.

“If anyone could handle being arrested it’s Kaneko,” she said, the thought actually making her smile not out of malice but out of almost fondness.

“Mia, if you don’t mind me saying, I know that what your father said about you and Liam bothered you, but he does love you. I’ve watched him grow up and become the man he is today, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he’s with you. He loves you more than he’s ever loved or cared for anyone. You shouldn’t doubt that,” he said.

“So, I’ve heard,” she joked, although her laugh didn’t actually sound fully genuine. “Um, I’m going to have to talk to… my dad. Can I see him?”

Bastien noted that she was clearly changing the subject, but didn’t mention it. Instead an almost knowing smile graced his lips instead.

“He’s actually still here,” he said, causing her to look at him curiously. “I assumed you would either regret your decision or change your mind after some time to think about it, and I didn’t want to move him too far just in case. I’ve had him under constant supervision, and the guards were instructed not to let him out of his room.”

Mia let out a genuine laugh at this, finally relaxing for the first time in what seemed like forever.

“Am I really that predictable?” she asked.

“No. You just have a good heart, and you’re not vidictive enough to want to punish him for the things he’s done to hurt you.”

“Thank you, Bas.”

“Of course. I’m only telling you the truth of what I’ve observed about you. I’ll take you to see him.”

Bastien led her to Kaneko’s bedroom and she knocked softly on the door before letting herself in. Kaneko was sitting down on his balcony, staring calmly up at the sky above him. 

“Can I sit with you?” she asked, her voice soft as he turned to look up at her.

He motioned for her to take a seat next to him and she did, kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up under her. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. “I was angry, and I acted on impulse.”

“I understand why you did it, Amelia,” he said.

“I’m still sorry. I almost immediately regretted it. But, apparently everyone knew I would and that’s why Bas didn’t actually arrest you,” she said, letting out a soft laugh. “I want to hate you. I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t no matter how hard I try.”

“That’s because you have a good heart. You get it from your mother,” Teppei said, causing her to wipe away a stray tear.

“Did she cry about everything too?” she joked, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Yes, she did actually,” he responded, letting out a slow laugh. “I see so much of her in you. All of the good in you is from her.” 

“I miss her everyday.”

“As do I,” he said, the tender look in his eyes shocking her. “If I had known that she was with him that night, I would have never…”

“I know, and as much as I want to be mad at you for what happened, I believe that you never meant to hurt her,” she said. “I missed you too, you know. Everyday for the past seven years. I think I may have spent more time mourning your death than I ever thought I would.”

Kaneko looked at her sadly and reached out, taking her hand in his and squeezing it tightly. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, their hand grasped tightly together. 

“Amelia, I’m sorry if what I said has affected your marriage in any way,” he said, and she could tell he was being sincere.

“It’s nothing I hadn’t thought about myself at some point. I was just too scared to say anything. I thought that if I was too vulnerable or if I brought any of that stuff up, he would decide that I wasn’t worth it,” she admitted, not sure why it was so easy spilling all of her feelings to him, but knowing that she could trust him anyway.

“That boy loves you. Everyone can see it. Everyone makes mistakes in relationships, but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth fighting for. I can tell you already know this, but forgiveness can go a long way,”

Mia nodded and tried to take in his words. She still wanted to be upset with Liam, especially after hearing that he would have married Madeleine anyway if Tariq hadn’t come forward, even knowing that his father was behind the scandal. But, Liam made it so hard to be mad at him. Although his actions had negatively affected her on more than one occasion, he had also shown her how much he loved her countless times. She found herself questioning if she even had a right to be mad in the first place. Everything had still worked out in the end, so did it even matter anyway?

However, her mind couldn’t stop going back over the “what ifs”. What if Tariq hadn’t come forward? Then, they wouldn’t be together right now because Liam wouldn’t have fought for her. “What if they hadn’t found Tariq at all?” Then they definitely wouldn’t be together because Liam wouldn’t have fought for her.

“I guess there’s still so much about being royalty that I don’t understand, so much about public image and that directly affecting people’s idea of whether or not someone is able to make a good leader. Well, that’s not true. I understand it to an extent. I’ve seen firsthand how terrible people can be to you when you’re in the public eye. I just… I just need to know that he loves me more than he cares about having the perfect image,” she said. “I need some kind of reassurance that I’m just as important to him as all of this is. Does that make me selfish?”

“No, it makes you human. It’s not unrealistic to want some kind of validation. However, you shouldn’t let your insecurities ruin a relationship as wonderful as the one you have. Liam may have made some poor decisions, but he loves you very much, and anyone can see that you make each other very happy.”

Mia thought over his words. They made sense. They actually made a lot of sense, and for a second she hated that even though he was an infuriating man, Kaneko always seemed to be so wise. Her mind wandered back over to the reason she had come to see him in the first place, and she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the topic she was about to bring up.

“While you were… uh, pretending to be dead everyone has tried to move on. Logan got his GED and is trying his best to put himself through college, Ximena is working at a tattoo parlour and she seems pretty happy there, and Toby is doing something with… tech stuff,” she said, not completely understanding what Toby did. “The only ones who haven’t really moved on are Colt and Mona. I’m not really sure how I can help them move on or if they even want to, but I spoke to Bastien, and he has a contact with the FBI. I know it’s not my decision, but I thought that maybe you guys can make some kind of deal with them. Maybe if you help them catch The Brotherhood, you can work some kind of minimum sentencing out. We’ll obviously have to talk to the rest of the crew, because it’s their lives not mine, but I think that may be the most logical way of making sure everyone has a way to move on with their lives. Maybe for the first time, they won’t have to constantly look over their shoulders. They can have a normal life where they’re not always worried about the cops and being on the run.”

Kaneko was silent for a long time. He seemed to be thinking over her offer. She didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s life. She knew how hard they had all worked to get where they are today, but if she could help them put that chapter of their lives behind them then she would do everything in her power to do it. When he looked back up at her, he studied her face intently for a moment before nodding his head. 

“Let’s speak to the crew.”

~~~

Mia walked around her and Liam’s bedroom getting ready for bed. She shrugged out of her clothes, feeling Liam’s eyes on her back, and she pulled one of his t shirts over her head, the hem falling to her mid thigh as she removed her jewelry. She pulled the blue grotto bracelet off, her eyes lingering on the item as she thought of what Kaneko had said earlier about not letting her insecurities ruin a good relationship. 

“Did Bas catch you up on everything?” she asked, walking over to the bed and getting settled as he began undressing as well.

“Yes, I have to admit, I was shocked that everyone agreed to your plan,” he said, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and settling down next to her. 

“It wasn’t easy. Mona and Colt didn’t want to. But, I think Colt changed his mind once he realized that… our dad agreed to it. I’m still not completely sure what’s going through Mona’s head, but we’re going through with it. Bas said his contact will be here on Wednesday.”

“You called him your dad,” Liam observed, a faint smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess we had a bit of a heart to heart today. I’m still not over it all, but I love him, and I can’t just turn that off because I’m upset,” she said, the double meaning of her words clearly evident to him. “I need a favor.”

“Anything. Anything at all,” Liam quickly said, causing her to smile at how quickly he offered to help.

“We all agreed that Teppei would be the one to meet with the agent and obviously Bas is going to be there, but one of us should be there too. I would do it myself, but I think I’ve proven that I get way too emotional when it comes to stuff with the crew and I don’t want to ruin things because I started crying in the middle of the meeting,” she confessed, looking up at him hopefully. “I’ll trade you your meeting with Francesco for my meeting with the FBI.”

Liam laughed at the way she phrased the offer and took her hand in his. 

“I’d be happy to,” he said. 

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Liam hesitantly broke  it. 

“I’ve been thinking all day about your question,” he finally admitted, causing Mia to turn in bed so that she was facing him.

“So, have I, and I wanted to apologize. I was feeling insecure, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry,” she admitted, nervously chewing on her bottom lip and refusing to meet his eyes. 

Liam placed a finger under her chin and leaned forward pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. She sat there unmoving for a moment before sinking into the kiss herself, allowing her body to relax into her arms. 

“I understand why you felt the need to ask. You were right. I haven’t fought for you nearly as much as you’ve fought for me. I knew that the social season and engagement tour was hard on you, but I never stopped to really think about how much it affected you because I was overwhelmed. I hadn’t expected to take the throne so early, and I had my father in my ear urging me to make certain decisions. He led me to believe that I needed to do certain things to be a good king, and I listened because I trusted him and wanted to be the best king that I could be. However, in the process I neglected you and that is the biggest mistake I have ever made,” he confessed, taking her hand and beginning to play with her wedding band and engagement ring. 

“A few months ago I would have married Madeleine. I would have married her because I thought that it was my duty, but I would have never been happy. I would have never been able to move on. But now, being able to love you freely and openly, being able to spend all of my days and nights with you has completely changed me. Being with you has changed me in the best way possible. I love Cordonia, and I want to be the best king that I can be, but first and foremost, I want to be the best husband possible, and whenever we’re ready, I want to be the best father possible because as much as I love Cordonia, all of this, being king and a leader means nothing to me without you. It means nothing to me without family.”

Mia felt her heart swell up in her chest, and she practically pounced on him, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Thank you for saying that,” she said, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. “I know that I’m the whole reason we had that disagreement. I let the negative thoughts overtake me, and I looked past all of the amazing things we have together and I shouldn’t have. I’ve been trying to work on that, but I still have the tendency to doubt myself, and I shouldn’t have been taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I understand why you felt the way that you did, love. But, I want you to know how much I love you, why I love you,” he said, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Mia pulled herself off of him and smiled at him curiously. 

“What’s with the look?” she asked, giving him an amused smile.

“I… I made a list,” he said, not making eye contact with her.

“A list?”

“You’re going to make fun of me,” he groaned, finally looking up at her. 

“Li, I make fun of you everyday, and I’ve recently been running out of material, so you might as well tell me,” she teased, climbing onto his lap and resting her hands on his chest.

“I made a list of all the reasons I love you, or at least most of them,” he said.

“Oh, my god, Liam, you’re such a softy,” she said, bringing her hand up to her chest and practically swooning.

“I knew you would make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you. That’s legitimately the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Are you going to show me?”

Liam reached over to his nightstand and handed her a folded piece of paper. Mia smiled widely as she opened it and glanced down at the list. She felt her cheeks begin to heat up as she glanced back up at him.

“Read it to me,” she said, handing it back and cuddling into his side.

Liam sucked in a breath and began to read.

“Okay I started off with the basics,” he said, reading the first three items on the list. “Number one, I love you because you’re smart. Number two, I love you because you’re beautiful. Number three, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“Wow, you’re off to a great start,” she said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. 

“I love that you’re not afraid to show your emotions and be vulnerable. You cry at just about everything,” he said, yelping out in pain as she pinched his arm. “But, there’s a but at the end of that sentence. But, I think it proves how empathetic you are, which leads me to my next point. When you love someone you love them with your whole heart. You feel things deeply and strongly, and I greatly admire that.”

“Okay, you fixed it,” she said, relaxing into him once again. However, her eyes soon narrowed as she saw the word “cry” once again. “Is there another one about me crying on here?”

“I love that you cry every time you see an ASPCA commercial and you insist that we need to give Hercules five furry siblings.”

“You’re on thin ice, mister,” she grumbled out, checking to make sure that there weren’t any more items about her crying on the list.

“I love that even though you have one of the kindest hearts of anyone in the world, you still manage to be the most passive aggressive person I’ve ever met,” he said, laughing as she punched his arm again.

“What did I just say?” she asked, before Liam shushed her and continued reading.

“I love you because you handle everything that’s thrown your way with grace and poise, and I know that you’ll be an amazing queen. You’re still adjusting to your role, but you’ll be unstoppable once you find your footing. I love you because when you’re nervous you belt out show tunes and dance around in your underwear,” he said with a soft laugh, causing her to blush furiously. “I love you because you push me to be a better person. You make me want to be a better man, a better king, and a better husband. I know you said that you’ve kept the things you were afraid I couldn’t love from me but I hope that you’ll continue to open yourself up because no matter what happens I’ll always love you. I’ll always want you. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

“You’re such a sap,” she said, although the lovesick smile on her face gave away what she was really feeling.

Liam chuckled and flipped them over in bed, his body hovering over hers as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“You bring it out in me,” he mumbled.

“Should I make a list too?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into another soft kiss.

“I wouldn’t object to it,” he joked, rolling off of her and pulling her close.

Liam leaned over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table as Mia began prattling on about all the reasons she loved him.

[apathbacktoyou]

67: “ Stop being so cute. ” + maida pls :)

welp, this somehow slipped into gen territory :o hope you enjoy anyway!

-

“Right, that’s enough!”

Aida’s stern voice is the first thing Daisy hears as they return from the mission.

It is quickly followed by the girls protesting, Joy drawing out the word ‘Please?’ as Mellie says ‘Pretty please?’ over and over.

Robbie puts a finger up to his lips as he edges closer to the doorway; Daisy exchanges a bemused look with Mack and Elena.

“Oh, alright,”Aida relents.“You really have to stop being so cute, I can’t say no to you!”

“Don’t tell them that,”May says with a laugh.

Robbie waves the others closer and they all peek into the living room.

The girls are putting what must be all their hair clips into Aida’s hair, both Elena and Daisy flinching in sympathy. They know from experience that those little fingers tend to pull too hard.

May’s on the floor nearby, looking at a picture book with a happily babbling Alejandro.

She glances over to them and cocks an eyebrow.

Caught spying, they sheepishly file into the room to greet their kids.

“You’re staying for dinner, right?”Mellie asks May and Aida once the Mackenzies have left for their own home, then turns to her parents before they can answer.“Nan’s going to paint my nails for me. And then I get to do hers.”

Aida’s smile, to her credit, only wavers a tiny bit at the prospect.

Mellie remains oblivious, tugging on her namesake’s hand.“Can you make dumplings, lăolao?”

“Yeah, sure,”May says, with that slightly bewildered air she always has when asked to make food.

“You know,”Daisy tells Robbie later,“Out of all things, including her dad being Ghost Rider and one of her grandmothers technically being a robot, the weirdest thing about Mellie’s childhood is probably still that she actually likes May’s cooking.”

-

still taking prompts!;)

[thatssonanii]

Todd

Bloodline Family Series

Roman sat in Haleigh’s bedroom scrolling through the comments on Haleigh’s live from a few hours earlier, waiting to get word. He had her go live from her room at Milo's house in California before going out. She was there with Carlito while Ardian filmed. Kandice and the triplets were in Georgia with Apryl, Simba, Trinity and the twins. This was the perfect time to handle his business.

During her live Haleigh mentioned that she was house sitting for her parents alone and how bored she was as he told her to do. Roman knew hearing that would draw Todd to the house for her, it's what he was counting on.

A guy Roman grew up with was a police officer and was able to get Todd's information and whereabouts for him. Having that Roman asked Joe to follow Todd to make sure he would take the bait. Tama hid in the brush on the side of the house to send the signal that Todd had arrived. Jey and Jimmy were waiting in the kitchen.

The plan was for Todd to get inside the dark house, knowing he'd follow the only noise in the house to Haleigh’s bedroom and go from there. It was late night and Todd clearly felt more comfortable at this time a night.

Roman’s phone buzzed, Joe's name showed on the illuminated screen.

"Yeah?"

"He's in your neighborhood. I'll circle around and wait at the front," Joe said with a sinister tone.

"Alright. By the time you pull around, we'll be out."

Roman and Joe disconnected the call. Just as he pulled the phone away from his ear, it lit up again with a text from Tama. A simple emoji. Locking his phone, Roman pushed it into the pocket of his black joggers then got under Haleigh’s comforter.

Todd cept through the house from the back sliding door. He'd saw Haleigh’s live and planned to surprise her. He also wanted to apologize for what he did. Assaulting her wasn't in his plans, she just messed up his plans by rejecting him. He now stood outside her door, straightening his shirt and checking his breath. But he was too preoccupied with himself and his thoughts that he didn't hear Jey and Jimmy follow behind him up the stairs.

Todd eased her door open, smiling when he saw, who he thought to be, Haleigh lying in the bed. When he pulled the covers back he jumped back startled, his hand on his chest as he stared at the large figure before him. The television only lit the large room so much, but Todd saw enough to know it wasn't Haleigh.

Then, there was light.

Todd looked up then down into the eyes of Roman.

Roman didn't say a word. His hands opened and closed at his sides as he stepped closer to the considerably smaller man.

"I..uh.. sir," Todd stuttered stepping backwards.

Roman brought his hands in front of him, cracking his knuckles, ignoring Todd's stuttering. He jumped at him making Todd turn to run away, only to run into the twins and fell on his ass. Todd stared at the three large men as they stood around him with fear in his eyes.

Jey snatched Todd up from the floor then Roman sent a punch to his temple, knocking him out cold. He slumped over in Jey's arms. The cousins laughed.

"Let's get his ass downstairs," Roman said picking up his legs.

Jimmy followed behind them cutting the television and lights off. "Should've rolled his ass down the stairs," Jimmy snickered when they got to the door.

Tama was standing on the porch waiting, Joe in the forest green SUV.

"Got his keys," Tama asked in a hushed tone.

Jimmy searched Todd's pockets for his keys then tossed them to Tama, who them jogged off the porch to Todds's mustang. After throwing him in the back, Jimmy, Jey and Roman climbed into the SUV and Joe cruised out of the neighborhood not wanting screeching tires not wanting to disturb the sleeping neighborhood and bring unwanted attention.

Cold water splashed over Todd's face, making him sputter and gasp for air. He moved backwards on the cold, hard ground.

"What," he gasped trying to breathing, "What the hell is going on?"

"Oh not sir this time," Jimmy asked standing behind him

Todd started to feel the pain in his head and remembered Roman punching him. "What do you people want with me? I didn't do anything."

"You didn't do anything," Tama repeated loudly.

Looking around, Todd realized he was inside a large, concrete warehouse and knew this wouldn't be good.

"Okay, okay," he begged, "I did it but I didn't mean to. It wasn't my fault."

Jey squatted down to Todd's level, baring his gold fronts. "So you sayin' it's my nice fault? Cause if it's not your fault then it's gotta be hers."

"N-n-no. Its...its," he stuttered staring between the men.

Jey slapped him across his face before standing to his full height. "Spit that shit out!"

Joe and Roman stood back watching Tama and the twins antagonize the smaller man. They took turns beating him, tagging in and out, making jokes as usual. Roman was trying to calm down some but he couldn't. Seeing Todd made him angry, it made him murderous.

"I'm gonna step out for a second," Roman spoke loud enough for them all to hear him, "When I get back though, I want y'all to leave us for a few. It won't take long."

They all agreed. Joe stepped towards Todd with a slight smirk on his face.

Roman called the only person he knew could help him.

"Hey, handsome," she cooed sleepily into the phone making him crack a smile.

"What's up, beautiful," he asked leaning against the SUV.

"Nothin, pinned under your circus acts," she laughed softly.

"Better you than me. Y'all having fun?"

"Yeah. The kids loved the aquarium, we gotta go back before we come home or they'll have a fit."

Roman smiled hearing about his children and nephews. "Even Simba's mean ass?"

"Even him," she laughed, "When we were getting the twins and trips some stuff from the gift shop, he tried to sneak and buy Kennedie these cute little penguin couple stuffed animals and the matching snow globe."

"Really? Guess he's not as mean as we thought."

They laughed for a few seconds until it died down. Nothing but the trips' light snores could be heard.

"I'm doing the right thing. Right, Kandi?" He asked softly. "The way I feel is normal, isn't it?"

"She's your baby, Roman. I think any father would feel the way you do. This rage is normal. Can you live with it?"

"Yeah, Kandi. Fuck him, I just don't want Princess to be mad at me," he sighed finally getting his thought out.

Kandice knew that's what was bothering him. His kids and what they think of him mean everything to him.

"Haleigh knows how much you love her and how far that love will go. You just make sure you're as honest and transparent with her as she needs you to be. Okay?"

He nodded like she could see him. "Yeah, I got you."

"You must've heard your daddy," Kandice laughed, "You hear Melly, Ro? Calling for you. She staring at the phone smiling, eyes still closed. I'll put the phone to her ear."

"Go back to sleep, Babygirl. Daddy loves you, okay?"

Melody mumbled back making Kandice and Roman laugh. "She's sleep again. I love you, Ro. Call me when you get home."

Roman put his phone away then stepped back into the warehouse. Tama and the twins stood around watching Joe choke Todd out, they moved back when they heard him approaching. Joe dropped him from his hold. Jey let him know they would be outside when he was finished.

"As much as you say you love my daughter on her Instagram, on her Facebook, on her Twitter, you couldn't possibly love her as much as I do. When you came after her, you didn't think about her father. Her father that's willing to kill and be killed for her," Roman spoke standing over him. "You know what I've always taught her? I taught her that love doesn't hurt so she knows that what you did wasn't out of love. That was anger. But your anger is nothing compared to mine."

"I am so sorry, Mr. Reigns. I came to your house to apologize to her for what I did, sir."

"You came to apologize with condoms and two knives in your pockets? Cause that's one hell of a apology. There was rope, cuffs, and a camera in your car too," Roman chuckled. "You're that close to death and won't tell the truth. You're not a man, you're a coward. The coward I knew you were when I saw how battered you left my daughter."

"This was all a mistake," Todd cried. He stood on his knees, pleading with Roman.

"No!" Roman roared. "You fought my five foot, maybe 120 lb daughter like she was a man so you get your ass up and fight me! Get up!" Roman pulled the small man up to his feet and pushed his chest roughly.

Todd shook his head extending his hands in front of him. "Please, I don't wanna fight. Please don't do this."

Roman laughed again at him but there was nothing funny. "Please don't do this? That's the exact same thing my daughter said to you. I heard the 911 call, she screamed in pain for ten minutes begging you to stop. But did you?"

"N-n-no, sir."

"So fight me. You can fight her, you can fight me."

Todd attempted to tussle with the larger man hoping that would satisfy the large man but it didn't. Roman tossed him to the floor and knelt over him, delivering blow after blow to Todd's face. He blacked out. The only thing he could see was how Haleigh looked in the hospital bed, how she cried seeing the damage done to her face, the mirrors she'd broken, the nights she sat up in his arms crying terrified that Todd would come back.

"That's it, Uce. That's it. Back up," Jey whispered placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. "Look at him. That's it."

Roman’s nostrils glared as he stared at each of his cousins then down at what used to be Todd. His face beaten in, barely recognizable. Roman’s breathing started to slow when he realized Todd was no longer breathing.

Joe put a strong hand on Roman’s other shoulder. "Come on, man. Let's go. Jey well take you home, we got this."

Roman took one last look at Todd before leaving the warehouse. He didn't feel guilty, he didn't feel any remorse. He felt vindicated, he felt free. He hoped Haleigh would feel the same way.

[bourbonboredom]

Silver Lining Chapter 9

If you’re ever gonna find a silver lining, it’s gotta be a cloudy day

A ClydexReader fanfic

Word Count: 2,392

Warnings: NSFW

Silver Lining Masterlist

Tag List: @oh-adam  @kyloren-supreme-ben   @xis23@elsablackswift   @ladygrey03 @grey-reylo-solo  @givemelifeorgiveme  @attorneyl @ayatimascd

He woke up the next morning to the feeling of her kissing his cheek. He opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the sunlight streaming through her window. She was laying next to him on her side, arm propping up her head as she studied him.

“G’mornin’,” she whispered.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” he mumbled, throwing his arm over her to pull her closer to him. She laughed into his chest.

Memories of last night came flooding back to him. Of him kissing her, of her kissing back, of that kissing leading to other things. It all felt like a dream. She maneuvered her face from his chest to his neck where she kissed a sweet spot, making him groan.

“I left some marks here it looks like, sorry about that,” she kissed the bruises she had made the night before.

“It’s alright I don’t mind it,” he tilted her chin up so he could kiss her lips again. It was chaste and sweet. “And I don’t mind wakin’ up like this either,”

“Me neither, I guess we’ll have to keep it up,” she touched her nose to his, letting her hands trail over his chest, slowly dipping lower to run her fingers along the trail of hair below his navel.

“Mmmm what’re you doin'?” the kisses became more passionate and their hands began to wander more.

“Mmmmm nothin’,” she said in her most innocent voice. She pushed him so he was on his back and straddled him, bringing back more memories of last night. He felt himself growing hard again.

He rested his limb on her hip as his hand went to play with her breasts, continuing kissing all the while. Her hand slowly settled around the base of his cock and she began to lazily stroke him, making him grow harder by the second.

“God, you’re perfect,” he moaned, bringing his hand to her cunt. He could feel she was already wet. He was making this perfect woman wet. She wanted him. And nothing felt better than that.

He brushed his dampened fingers over her clit, making her tighten her grip on his cock. He did it over and over, relishing the feeling of her pacing her strokes in time with his. He pressed his thumb to her clit as he worked two fingers inside of her, making her buck her hips. She broke off their kiss and buried her head into the side of his neck, effectively burying any moans coming out of her mouth.

He felt himself getting closer and closer. The sound of her moans, the feeling of her warmth, the smell of her hair, all helping to tighten the knot that was forming in his stomach. He was so concentrated he wouldn't have heard the knocking if it weren't for her. She instantly perked up, hands flying to his to get him to stop.There was another knock at the door. Her eyes met his, wide with confusion.

“Who could be knockin’ this early in the morning?” she muttered, getting off of him and quickly pulling a pair of pajama pants and his sweatshirt out of her dresser drawer. He smiled to himself when he saw that.

She pulled on her clothes and went to her front door to see who was there. She opened it, and leaned back so she could see Clyde.

“It’s you sister!” she called, opening the door wider to let her inside.

Clyde didn't think he could pull on jeans so quickly with one hand.

His shirt was about half-way on when Mellie noticed him from across the room, a small twinkle in her eye.

“Need a little help there?” she called. Clyde’s face was nearly scarlet, and hers wasn't too far behind. Mellie, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he tugged his limb through the arm hole, getting up to join the girls in the living room. He was met with her trying desperately to avoid any eye contact, and Mellie raising her eyebrows at him.

“I texted you a few times last night, askin’ when you’d be home, I see now you were a little too preoccupied to check your phone,” Clyde gave his sister his best ‘don’t-test-me’ look, but she was immune.

“‘l’ll make everyone coffee and heat up breakfast,” she mumbled as she disappeared into the kitchen. Thankfully, they’d remembered the food that was left out after they’d settled down last night. They’d certainly worked up the appetite to eat afterwords, but most of it wound up packed in the fridge.

Mellie turned to her brother, stepping closer so she could speak in a hushed tone.

“So you finally told her? I mean, I guess you did if you didn't come home last night,”

He tried to continue his ‘don’t-test-me’ look but her smile made it difficult.

“I’m happy for you, you deserve this,” she held out her hand for a fist-bump, which he returned.

“I appreciate that, but did you come all this way just to mess with my personal life?”

“No, I’ll have you know I visited her all the time when you weren’t here, we’re actually friends now. But thats beside the point, I was at Jimmy’s next door before I came here. Wait, does she know anything about our recent family outing?”

“I just told her I liked her, I’m not gonna go scarin’ her off,” he said slightly incredulous.

“Alright, alright, just makin’ sure. I mean, you just found out about the money, Jimmy wouldn't let me tell you in prison, so I dont think Jimmy would be too happy if she suddenly knew everything,”

“I’m not tellin’ her anything,” he kept his voice low as she came back out of the kitchen with coffee mugs.

“Breakfast is almost ready, you’re more than welcome to stay Mel,”

“How kind of you, are those biscuits and gravy I smell? I think I just might then,” she waggled her eyebrows at her brother, who just rolled his eyes and followed her into the kitchen.

———————————

It was mid-November when Jimmy told him it was time to go get the money. He drove in from Virginia and the two of them went to the dump where Earl helped them dig up about a dozen trash bags tied with red bands. Jimmy cut one of them open to show Clyde the bills inside them.

It was more money than Clyde could have imagined. They dropped a bag off at Joe Bang’s and took the rest home to count and divvy up. The three Logan siblings sat in their parent’s old house counting out the hundreds of thousands of dollars they had stolen. To be completely honest, Clyde lost track of the final count. He was so in shock that they had pulled this off. He would never have to think about money again in his life if he planned it right. He’d put a hundred in his wallet and put the rest away for safe keeping.

He tried to act as normal as possible at Duck Tape that night, he wasn't planning on giving up his day job any time soon. He needed the cover, sure, but he liked working there as well as owning it. And it helped that his co-owner and him were going steady.

She had signed the paperwork a few months back, officially making her his business partner. Their professional and personal relationships stayed separate, but both thrived. He was still technically living with Mellie but spent a good chunk of the week at her place. He had brought up living together at one point but she was adamant about having her own space.

“I felt trapped in the last home I shared, I want a space that is just for me for a little while,” she said firmly upon him asking. He understood and never brought it up again.

She and him closed up the bar around 11pm that night. There was a storm that kept everyone home, giving them plenty of alone time. They went through their nightly cleaning ritual with the jukebox playing in the background.

She leaned over the bar to grab a stray glass, causing Clyde to stop and take in her position. Her jeans hugged the curves of her ass, which was sticking out as she bent forward on to the top of the bar. All he could think of in that moment was keeping her bent over and taking her right there. He came up behind her, pressing his hips into the swell of her ass.

“It’d be a lot easier if you just went ‘round the bar darlin’,” he teased.

She wiggled her ass against him as she straightened out, glass still standing at the far end of the bar. She turned her upper body so she could pull him into a kiss. It started sweet but quickly turned into a passionate mess of tongue and teeth. He felt himself grow hard against her as he groped at her breasts. His new arm responded much like a real one would, making his life easier, especially when undoing the button and zipper of her jeans. He worked his way past her layers, brushing his large fingers against her clit. She braced herself on the counter as she felt her knees buckle. He wrapped his other arm around her waist as he plunged two fingers into her pussy.

“So wet for me already?” he said, nipping at her ear. “I’m beginning to think you were leanin’ across that bar on purpose,”

She couldn't do anything but moan in response and grind back against his erection.

“Do you want somethin’?” he circled her clit faster. “If you want somethin’ you gotta use your words sweetheart,”

“Clyde, please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, I want you in me!” words tumbled out of her mouth as she felt his fingers hit all the right places. “I wanna feel you in me, I want your cock, please let me have it,”

“Now, you know I can’t say no when you beg so pretty,” he kissed her neck as he pulled his fingers away.

He let go of her to un-do his own jeans and boxers enough to pull his cock out. She tugged her jeans to her mid-thigh and he bent her back over the bar again. He took his cock in his hand and grabbed at her ass with the other.

“You look so good like this darlin’,” he ran the tip up and down her slit, gathering her wetness on himself.

He pushed into her, bare skin connecting with bare skin. His hands gripped her hips as her core enveloped him.

“God, you feel good,” she drawled out, fingers digging into the counter.

He began to thrust, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the empty bar. She felt so tight in this position, he couldn't get enough of it. He reached his hand around to play with her clit as he pounded into her. She made the prettiest noises when he did that. He was completely caught in this moment. His girlfriend leaning over the counter of the bar, their bar, taking his cock as he pounded into her. He felt himself getting closer, his grip on her hips tightening.

“I’m close,” she warned, knees starting to buckle again.

He started moving faster around her clit, fingers slick with their precum. He applied the amount of pressure he knew she loved, making her pulse around him. Her moans grew more high pitched and frantic, her hips bucking up into his fingers. She was caught between the sensation of him pounding her into the bar and his fingers dancing over that bundle of nerves between her legs. He leaned over to press his face into her neck, whispering words of encouragement in her ear.

“Cum for me sweetheart, I wanna feel you cum on my cock,” He nipped at her earlobe, fingers practically grinding on her clit.

Suddenly her body spasmed. She came hard around him, crying out his name. Her cunt pulsed around him, milking him towards his own orgasm. He stroked her through her climax, waiting for her to come down from her high before he worried about his own.

“I’m close darlin’, how do you want me?” They had forgotten about condoms in the heat of the moment. She had the implant in her arm, but even with birth control they took precautions. He didn't mind, seeing as she always took good care of him.

“Lemme up,” she gently pushed him off of her, allowing her to move him toward the bar and get on her knees in front of him.

She placed her hands on his big thighs, smiling up at him before going to work. She ran her tongue along his cock, tasting herself on it. He groaned, stroking her hair out of her face. She took him in to her mouth, pushing down until he hit the back of her throat. Her nose met the base of his cock and she looked up at him.

“Fuuuuck, you look good like that,” he hissed, willing himself to last a little longer.

She started bobbing her head up and down his length, a hand coming up to graze over his balls.  He felt the knot in his stomach tighten rapidly.

“Shit. Christ sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna—,” he babbled, feeling his entire body seize, hand gripping her hair, toes curling, head snapping back. She took him back as far as she could, letting him fill her throat as he coated it with him cum.

She pulled her mouth off him, holding the shaft in her hand as she licked his head of any remaining cum until he began to wince from overstimulation.

“That’s enough darlin’,” he helped her to her feet, tugging her jeans back up her legs.

“What got into you? Taking me right over the bar outta nowhere. What if someone saw us, huh?” she teased, buttoning her pants back up and helping with his.

“Just in a good mood is all. Got this whole business that’s been thrivin’, I’m not in prison, and I got this beautiful girl in my life,” He pulled her into a bear hug, making her squeal.

“Well I’m happy that you’re in a good mood,” she brought him into a quick kiss. “I hope it stays that way for a long while,”

[matsbarzal]

4th of July - Mitch Marner

Notes: I honestly think Mitch Marner looks like he’s 15 which makes it so weird to make imagines about him but anywhooo, it was requested so here ya guys go!

Requested: Yes | No

Up Next: Brady Skjei

“I am Canadian, (Y/N). You can’t just expect me to show up to a 4th of July party and not expect me to flaunt my Canadianess to all your family.”

You knew it was a terrible idea to introduce your family to Mitch, one of the most Canadian people you knew, on your families favourite patriotic day of the year.

That brought you to your current predicament. Mitch, the guy whose job was to skate around with a Maple Leaf on his chest, was standing in front of you in a Molson Canadian shirt, swimming trunks that were red and white, and thankfully, regular sandals. 

“My families going to make fun of you every single time they see you if you show up in that. My brother’s are never going to let you live it down, Mitchell.”

“They’re going to love it! I’m Canadian, everybody loves us.”

Shaking your head in silent laughter, you pushed Mitch towards the front door, grabbing his car keys from the table as he grabbed the bag of stuff you left near the door. 

You could tell Mitch was nervous about meeting your family. He wasn’t as chatty as usual, he wasn’t striking up conversations, only talking when spoken to. Which, understandably so. Your family could be described in three words, loud, wild, and critical. They were critical about anyone that was brought into the house, maybe not to the point that the guest was uncomfortable, but to the point that if they didn’t like them, they weren’t shy about it once that person left.

Since you had told Mitch that, he had gone out of his way to do everything that would either make a statement and make it known that he wanted to be liked, which worried you.

After getting into the passenger seat, you tossed Mitch the keys. “You know, you don’t have to keep this act up, babe.”

Looking at you in confusion, Mitch urged you to continue. “I know you’re just trying to make my family like you. They will, I promise. You’re not a dick, you don't go out of your way to put me down, you’re lovable, and you hate the Blackhawks, they’ll love you babe, seriously.” 

Nodding his head, “But you said they were critical of everyone. I don’t want them changing your opinion of me because they don’t like me.”

“Believe me, they didn’t like Stacy Adams in second grade but we were best friends until she fucked my boyfriend in tenth grade.”

“Classy friends you got there, eh, (Y/N)?”

“Excuse me, (Y/N), who the hell is this chum? You can’t bring boys home, you’re like twelve.”

“Excuse me, Trey, fuck off.” Sending a sarcastic smile towards your younger brother, you pushed past him, while Mitch stopped to politely shake his hand.

“I can’t shake your hand. You destroyed my Red Wings this year... it would be like... blasphemy if I were to even touch you, man.” Your brother looked at Mitch’s outstretched hand in mock-disgust, a fake shudder running through his body. 

Shaking your head, you pulled Mitch’s hand through the space between the wall and your brother, giving the latter the dirtiest look you could muster. “Stop being mean.”

Mimicking you, your brother followed behind, obnoxiously making comments until you reached the front door when he decided to make the announcement that you had arrived. 

“(Y/N) and her Canadian are here! Everyone to the deck!”

God, you could kill him right now. Mitch looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole right there. 

Your parents got there first, your dad pulling you into his arms while your mom introduced herself to Mitch, pulling him into a hug and observing his body. “You’re far too skinny for a hockey player. God, I’m turning into your grandmother.” 

Your dad laughed, pinching your moms arm just as Mitch stuck his hand out towards him, “I’m Mitch.” 

“I can’t shake your hand, we don’t respect the Leafs in this house, kid.”

“Dad!” “Isaac!” 

Mitch looked confused, not sure what the next move was supposed to be as he looked at you for help. “Mitch, this is my father. He’s going to be polite and shake your hand now, isn’t he?” 

Looking at you in fake annoyance, your dad grabbed Mitch’s still waiting hand, shaking it. “Congrats on the season, Marner. Sucks how it ended, can always count on the Capitals, right?”

Shrugging his shoulder, Mitch nodded. “Woulda been nice to face the Bruins, I think we may’ve stood a chance against them, truthfully.”

And that’s how the relationship between your dad and Mitch began. Hockey talk, of course. 

Your older brother and sister-in-law still hadn’t gotten there yet, their typical move was showing up 45 minutes late, so they didn’t have to sit through the chitchat that relatives brought and instead just came right for the food.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of squealing from the left, “Oh my god, daddy! Look! It’s Mitch Marner, oh my god!” 

Your five year old niece, Toronto born and bred after your brother moved their eight years prior. Running right past you and towards the hockey player in question, Mitch easily caught her hug. He looked over towards you as she clutched onto him tightly. 

“Mellie, come here, you don’t attack guests at Nana and Grandpa’s house, now do you?” Reluctantly nodding, she ran towards you, hugging your knees as you bent down to hug her back.

“Now, lets go say hello to Mitch, yeah?”

Eagerly nodding her head, you entwined her hand with yours, walking her over to your boyfriend who was in the middle of a conversation with your dad and uncle.

“Mitchell.”

“(Y/N).”

“Mellie!” 

Her comment made the few people in the vicinity of the three of you burst out in  laughter as she looked on bashfully.

“Mitch, this is my niece Melissa, preferably Mellie. She’s a huge fan.” Pushing your niece towards him, she didn’t skip a beat before hugging him again.

“I have your jersey! And a toy that looks just like you! And like Willy!” 

Laughing, Mitch hoisted her up into his lap. “I’m sure the one that looks like me was the better buy, right?”

“Actually, our dog chewed its arm off... and its leg, but that’s okay!”

“(Y/N)! Since when have you started bringing leading goalscorer’s into our midst?” 

Your older brother grinned, sweeping you up into a hug and pressing a kiss to your head before introducing himself to Mitch which really just resulted in two awkward handshakes while the hockey player tried to maneuver your niece to shake your brothers hand.

Your family was acting... weird. To say the least. They were being extra nice, extra polite... extra weird.

Walking towards the backdoor, you swung it open to reveal your mom and sister-in-law, their hands both working on whichever food they were trying to get ready now. “Why’s everyone acting so weird, mom?”

“And by weird, you mean?” 

“You’re all being so nice. No critical remarks, no nasty comments, no ‘if you hurt her I'll kill you’ comments, what’s going on?”

Laughing, your mom passed you the salad spoon, urging you to toss the salad in front of you. “There’s nothing to be critical of, (Y/N). He’s a very lovely boy. And no one’s getting bad vibes from him, but I think your dad and brothers are giving him the talk right now, actually.”

Pointing to the outside window, you looked to see Mitch surrounded by your dad and brothers, a nervous grin plastered on his lips. 

“Everyone likes him, baby. He seems absolutely lovely.”

Mellie was cuddled up in her dads lap, her yawn signifying how late it was truly getting. 

“It’s the 4th of July, and you’re telling me we have no fireworks?” 

“We have fireworks, I just don’t know where your dad put them! And he’s not answering his phone.” Your brother looked at your mom in disbelief, an aggravated look on his face.

“He does this every year, gets crazy drunk and then forgets where he put the fireworks. Every god damn year.”

Speak of the devil and the devil will appear.

Your dad popped out of the shed, a bucket of fireworks in his and your uncles arm, large grins plastered on their faces. “Found em!” 

Laughing, Mitch sat down beside you. Pressing his lips to your cheek, he leaned closer to you and dropped his hand on your knee. 

“Excited for fireworks, loser?” 

“Don’t call me that, or everyone’s gonna hate you.” Poking you with his finger, Mitch shook his head immediately.

“Everyone loves me, don’t even try to act like they don’t.”

Just as you were about to say something, the first crack went off in the sky, illuminating it in gold and silver, awing everyone out of their tiredness. 

Pulling Mitch’s hand in yours, you moved closer again, watching as three more fireworks lit up the sky, a large grin plastered on both of your faces. 

“Hey.” “Sup.”

“I'm really glad all my family likes you, Mitch.”

“Love you, (Y/N).”

[joeybelle]

Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 3

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw​ @kyloren-supreme-ben​ @onmyknees4steve​ @elsablackswift​ @helloimindelaware​ @mwcritics

A.N: I’ve decided to slice this fic into 3000-ish words parts for people to be able to scroll past it without much annoyance. Pert 3 ended up being much longer than expected, so i had to cut it into two parts somewhere in the middle. It’s not perfect, but you’ll be getting both parts today. When I finish editing. Might take a while. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Feel free to drop me a line anytime or just message me if you wanna squee about Clyde Logan in general.

Rejection is always a tough pill to swallow. It wasn’t the first I’d gotten rejected and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it still didn’t go down easily. I found myself moping at home the next few days, following what I’d gotten used to calling the ‘series of unfortunate events’ related to Clyde Logan. Not that I had that many alternatives anyway, being a friendless nobody in a small town, but this time it felt self-imposed.

In the meantime I cut the grass in my yard and discovered a few rose bushes that were beautiful, but mean to my hands, I watched how the living room ceiling started leaking one rainy afternoon, signalling a pretty serious hole in the roof, nearly broke my neck going into the basement because there was a missing step I hadn’t seen before; I opened the vodka bottle all by myself and realized that he had been right, drinking alone wasn’t fun at all, but I was doing it anyway to hide my shame; I ate ice cream and binged Netflix shows for the rest of the week.

But there’s a limit to how much time you can spend alone at home before starting to go insane. I reached mine the next weekend and for a moment I considered paying Mellie a visit, but then I remembered the whole Clyde ordeal and I decided against it. I was sure that he’d told her everything and I really didn’t feel like talking about it. It was bad enough that I was beating myself up over it, I didn’t need someone else to rub it in. So, since the Duck Tape was off-limits for obvious reasons, and I didn’t feel like exploring for another bar in the neighbourhood I was left with only one option: the country fair.

I used to really love country fairs and carnivals and all that when I was a teenager, but it was probably because I’d be with my friends and there would be booze and food and we’d just be stupid together. I wasn’t sure I’d find them as charming nowadays, but at least I’d be moping outside, in public, which was an improvement to being secluded in my own home, waiting for another rain to invade the living room through the ceiling. So I showered, dressed like a semi-decent swamp witch and went to the damn thing.

As expected, the country fair didn’t impress me at all but it was a way to kill a few hours while feeling like less of a hermit than usual. I ate something, tested some insanely sweet drinks, and stuffed my face with enough ice cream to endanger my health, so in the end I found myself sitting on a bench, dangerously close to a food coma, with nothing better to do than to watch the crowd. Other people seemed to have way more fun than me. There were couples holding hands, parents with their kids, teenagers in groups visiting attractions and Clyde Logan with a blonde kid attached to his arm. Wait, what?

I have to say, this was the last place I had expected to see Clyde Logan. In my head, country fairs didn’t really fit his style (because I had spoken to him twice and I knew all there was to know about the man, obviously), and I assumed he’d be too busy with the bar to come to one anyway. I remembered that it was pretty early and the bar probably wasn’t open yet, but his presence in my field of vision was still unexpected.

I sighed dramatically and leaned back, arms crossed over my chest. Speak about bad luck, I thought. I came here to avoid him and here he was, swinging a blonde kid on his very toned arm. Actually, I didn’t mind the view. He was distracted by the kid and far enough not to notice my staring, so I indulged in it for a moment. There’s no harm in looking, right? Especially when he was wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt that seemed at least a size too small, the buttons threatening to give in anytime he flexed his muscles while lifting the little girl in the air. His niece? Maybe. She seemed vaguely familiar, so I assumed she had been part of the onslaught of school kids that were sent to visit the college I worked at. Or maybe she was his kid. I had no way of knowing for sure.

Whatever the case, he looked really good doing it. He was smiling for a change. An open and honest smile lit up his usually somber face, and I just couldn’t look away. I caught myself wishing he would smile at me like that, but then I realized that we were practically strangers and I hadn’t made the best impression the first time we met. And since he clearly rejected me, I had to get over this crush ASAP if I wanted to live peacefully in this town.

The little girl let go of his arm and ran back to a couple that, after a bit of squinting, I recognized to be Jimmy Logan and his sister Mellie. They both looked different—after all it had been more than a decade since I’d last seen them—but not so much that I didn’t recognize them. Jimmy lifted the girl in the air and kissed her, then put her down and looked straight at me with a shit eating grin on his face. The feeling was similar to being punched in the gut. I remembered that in another life I’d dreamed of Jimmy Logan looking at me with a smile, but right now the only thing I felt was panic, so I decided to get the hell out of there before Mellie noticed me and I’d have to be part of a very awkward conversation.

But luck definitely wasn’t on my side today, because the little girl started running towards me yelling ‘Miss’ at the top of her lungs. Oh, now I recognized her: she was the pageant girl. Really smart kid, very bubbly and friendly, talked my ear off during the college tour. Her favourite subject was, of course, pageants.

“Hi!” I said, when she stopped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be… uhhh… uhhhh.” Crap. I had been calling her pageant girl in my head for so long that I’d forgotten her name.

“Sadie!” she helpfully reminded me.

“Sadie, right. How are you today?”

“Good. Daddy brought me to the fair to see the auctioneers. And later uncle Clyde will win me a unicorn.” I did my best not to steal a glance at Clyde at the mention of his name, not wanting to invite any more attention towards me. Hopefully I’d be able to get out of here before the adults ganged up on me.

“Awesome!” I said, panic clearly noticeable in my voice, because Jimmy Logan was rapidly approaching (despite his visible limp) with Mellie following closely. “It was nice seeing you today, Sadie, but I have to go now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for your unicorn.”

“Aw, leaving already?” She looked genuinely sad and I felt bad for her, but I felt even worse for myself, so I had to go.

“Yeah, leaving already? Without even saying hello?” Jimmy caught up to us before I was able to disappear, so I put on my most believable fake smile and hoped for the best. “Come on, don’t be a stranger, Baby,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

“Well, I kinda thought I was,” I mumbled, but returned the hug. He seemed like a nice person, plus I’d held him on a pedestal for so many years that I could indulge in a hug.

“Daddy, why are you calling her baby?” Sadie aske, giggling.

“Cause that’s her nickname,” he said, ruffling her hair. He explained to her that I’d been called baby ever since I was little, but she had to be polite and call me by my real name. The kid giggled again and I mouthed ‘I hate it’ which made her laugh harder, before turning to face her dad once again.

“I am surprised you know that. I lived under the impression that you had no idea who I was,” I said, going to hug his sister. “Hi Mellie, long time no see.” In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut and pretended we were at least acquaintances. And although I knew it could be interpreted that way, I wasn’t bitter that he never acknowledged me in my teens—after all, it was just puppy love and it had been a decade since then—but I was curious what had prompted this sudden display of familiarity. If anything, I would have expected Mellie to come alone to say hi.

“Hiya, sweetheart. It’s good to have you back.” She warmly returned my hug.

“What do you mean I had no idea who you were? You’ve been coming to my games since you were twelve and cheered louder than the whole cheerleading squad.” That was true. “How could I not know my biggest fan?”

“So you what, ignored me on purpose?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he said and laughed. His laugh was still the same as I remembered, loud and contagious. “But my brother here had the biggest crush on you and I just didn’t wanna make him more jealous.” Well, this was unexpected.

Clyde had conveniently stayed out of my line of sight, keeping his distance, but now I turned to look at him. Never in my life had I seen anyone blush so furiously in a matter of seconds, his whole face even his ears becoming a deep shade of red. He was glaring at Jimmy who seemed really unfazed by it.

“Is that so?” I pressed, feigning innocence, but deep inside me there was a little devil laughing maniacally. I mean, I was aware that it wasn’t very nice of me, but I was feeling a tiny bit of petty satisfaction knowing that I wasn’t the only one embarassed by the whole situation. Misery loves company.

“Yeah, he only ever came to my games to see you cheer,” Jimmy said, same shit eating grin plastered on his face, seeming completely oblivious to his brother’s discomfort.

I smiled back but wonder what Jimmy’s motive was. Talking to me out of the blue, after never acknowledging me before, snitching on his brother in a matter of seconds. I knew he was insanely loyal to his family, so why sell him now?

On the whole, the situation was beyond comical. Jimmy was grinning, Clyde seemed set on killing him with a glare, Sadie attached to his arm again asking ‘Is that true, uncle Clyde’ over and over again until he finally mumbled something that sounded like ‘It was a long time ago’. He looked at me like a deer (or a moose) caught in the headlights and I could feel my own cheeks burning. I was in hell.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” I asked Mellie, who stood next to me, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her face.

“‘Cause he’s a bit of a coward and you were infatuated with my other brother,” she kindly explained.

“Right.” Made sense. I still felt like something that I should have known about back then— who knows, I might have liked him back—or you know, forever hold your silence type of thing. But knowing this now explained a lot of things.

Now that the petty satisfaction that I had felt for embarrassing him had died down a little bit, I understood why Clyde rejected me and didn’t seem to react to my flirting. If someone I had been crushing on in my teens showed up on day, insulted me or trampled on my insecurities then tried flirting with me I would have been much less gracious in rejecting them than Clyde had been. Yes, it had been more than a decade since highschool, and I was pretty sure his crush on me was dead and buried (like the one I used to have on Jimmy), but it was something that could potentially still hurt after years. So once again I was flooded by guilt.

“Well, it was… uhh… fun meeting you guys, but I have to head back now,” I said, getting ready to bail. Enough embarrassment for a day. Served me right for wanting to get out of the safety of my home. Never again.

“Come on, we’ve just met and you wanna leave already?” Mellie said with a disappointed look on her face.

“It’s not that, I just have some things to do at home,” I tried excusing myself. “Give me your phone number and we can hang out another time,” I said fishing my phone out of my pocket.

“The things will still be there tomorrow, but you’re never getting back today,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Wow, who knew my brother was a philosopher,” Mellie arched an eyebrow at him. I laughed.

“Please, Miss,” Sadie latched onto my hand, pulling me towards the booths. “Daddy said I’ll get to be your guide today, show you around the fair. Pleaaase.” How could you say no to a kid? Big-eyed, freckled, and more full of life than I’d ever been.

I looked over to Clyde who had returned to a somewhat normal shade, although there was still some pink tinting his cheeks. He still seemed highly uncomfortable about this whole thing, his whole body looking tense. I tried imagining what he felt: a week ago he was living a (supposedly) peaceful life and then Baby was back in town and he’d been insulted, hit on and then embarrassed by his brother in front of his family. If I’d been in his place, I would have faked my death and left the country by now.

“I don’t think I should…” I said, hoping that at least one of the siblings would take the hint and leave it be.

“Nonsense!” Jimmy proclaimed, patting me on the shoulder and nudging me towards Sadie. “Come stay with us a while and I promise you’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you were planning on doing.”

“Are you willing to help out?”

“If that’s what it takes…”

I snorted. “Half an hour then I’m gone,” I said, following them towards the booths. I send Clyde an apologetic look, hopefully he wouldn’t be bothered too much by my presence for the next half an hour. He seemed to have regained his composure and was following us closely.

Sadie was still holding my hand as we were mingling into the crowd of people staring at the attractions. She diligently explained to me what everything was, like it was my first time going to a country fair. It was entertaining to watch. She was a really cute kid and honestly, after so many days of self-imposed isolation, it was nice to interact with people in my free time.

“So, how’s it like being back in your hometown again?” Mellie asked, once Sadie ran over to her dad.

“Nice, peaceful.” Or that’s how it should have been, if I’d been a little smarter. “But it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to. It’s definitely keeping me busy. My roof just started leaking, something I never thought I’d have to experience, but hooray for adult life,” I laughed.

“Did you get it fixed?” she asked, a little concerned.

“No, not yet. Called a couple of contractors, but they didn’t have any opening this month.” I sighed. “I don’t have that many contacts in the area, but I’ll keep looking and hope there won’t be rain anytime soon.”

“That sucks,” she said and turned to her brother. “Hey Jimmy,” she yelled, “do you know anyone who can fix a roof?”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, truthfully. “It’s just raining into my living room.”

“I can come take a look when I’m free. If it’s not something big I can fix it for you.” He offered.

“Thanks, but…” Was I stupid enough to refuse? Yes.

“You don’t trust my skills?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t want you to waste your free time fixing my leaky roof.” It wasn’t just that. I generally preferred to work with people I didn’t know, who were paid to do a job and with who I could argue at the end if the job wasn’t done properly. With friends and family, you just accept what you get, smile and then pay someone else to fix it later. Plus, if they refused payment, you’d have to find a way to make it up to them which meant more complications. And in this particular case I knew I shouldn’t be spending more time with Clyde or his family if I wanted my unrequited crush to die anytime soon. But how do I tell Jimmy that, when he seemed so eager to help?

“It’s no problem. I’ll take a look and if it’s something I can’t do, I’ll put you in touch with some people. When are you free?”

“Not sure, my schedule isn’t fully decided yet.”

“Then give me a call and we’ll see what works for the both of us. Clyde gimme your phone.” That earned him a frown from his brother.

“Why? What happened to your phone?” he said on what I guessed was a rather disapproving tone, but handed him the phone nonetheless.

“It’s broken.”

“He forgot to pay for it,” Sadie explained with a giggle.

“I didn’t forget, I’m not paying it in sign of protests to the shitty plan they forced down my throat,” he muttered. “Anyway, what’s your number?”

He punched in the number and gave me a call. I typed the name Clyde but then changed my mind and saved it as ‘Logan Bros’. Clyde never really wanted my number, so it was just a way for me to get in touch with Jimmy if I needed help. I decided to never call it unless the roof caught fire and I was trapped underneath.

The phone went back to Clyde and I saw him fiddle with it a bit, probably saving the number. I wondered what he saved me as. Probably used my real name, since I’d never heard him call me Baby. Although for some strange reason, I wouldn’t have minded even if he did. No matter how much I hated the nickname, I was sure I’d very much enjoy it if he moaned it in my ear as he pulled me closer to his chest and… stop. Restrain yourself, woman.

Sadie kept her promise and was a very good guide, which meant I was now very well acquainted with everything at the country fair. Jimmy had bought us corn dogs and cheesy fries and donuts and refused to let me pay for anything, so I retaliated by buying everyone snow cones and funnel cake. By the time we reached the shooting galleries, I was so full I was ready to burst.

As Sadie was searching the booths for the toy she wanted I bought a bottle of water, hoping to wash away the nausea caused by all that deep fried food I had shoved down my throat earlier. Seeing that Clyde had fallen behind and we could finally be alone for a bit, I decided to go and talk to him.

“Sorry for crashing your family outing,” I said, standing besides him as we both watched Sadie’s quest to find the best toy. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s alright” he said, briefly glancing at me. “I have to apologize for how my brother acted today. I guess he’s just excited that you’re back in town. He doesn’t have that many friends.”

I had to admit that Jimmy Logan being lonely and not surrounded by hordes of friends was something that I would have never imagined. But I could see it now, after all we were both in the same position: two formerly popular kids that had fallen from grace and were now regular nobodies. Most friendships we made in our teens weren’t the kind that lasted a lifetime.

“I’m actually really enjoying this,” I said, trying to open the water bottle and failing. My hands were still very greasy from all that deep fried food. “But don’t tell anyone or I have a feeling I might get friend-dopted by your family and you’ll never get rid of me,” I said with a wink, to which he smiled. An actual smile. Directed at me.

“Lemme help you with that,” he said, noticing my pathetic attempt at opening the bottle. He held it under his left arm, effortlessly unscrewing the cap.

“I’m completely useless” I mumbled retrieving the bottle, and he chuckled.

In the meantime Sadie seemed to have found what she was looking for and dragged both Clyde and me towards one of the booths. She showed him what he wanted and after paying he was given a shabby airgun. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look at a rifle with more contempt in their eyes. I was certain he was used to a different type of guns, especially since he had been in the military.

“Piece of crap,” he mumbled, to no one in particular, disgust clear in his voice.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of carnivals, Mr. Logan,” I laughed.

He shot me a dirty look and aimed. He missed the first two targets, but got the other three. It was still quite impressive, I was sure the only thing I’d be able to hit with any rifle would be my foot, especially since everyone knows the games are rigged and the guns aim screwed on purpose. He paid for another round and I kept my fingers crossed. Sadie had climbed onto her father’s shoulders and was cheering from above.

This time he got the first target with very little effort. And the second one. And the third. By the fourth I was probably as excited as Sadie, although a little less vocal. The fifth target came down just as effortlessly as the others and both Sadie and I cheered loudly. The vendor faked excitement and handed him the toy, making a bit of a spectacle to attract other customers. ‘Look everybody, you can win even with one arm!’ he bragged, and I hated him already, but Clyde didn’t even seem to notice.

“Which one do you want?” he asked Mellie, after giving Sadie her toy.

“One of those,” she said, pointing to a bunch of little plushies that could be hanged on the rearview mirror.

“Alright,” he said, and paid for another round. This time, it seemed like he didn’t even have to aim. He just pointed the rifle and the targets went down one after another, to the vendor’s increased irritation and to my delight.

Clyde gave the toy to his sister who thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to me. “Which one do you want?”

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

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