#my mom used to go on with life on three cups of coffee

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Seven.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter eight. chapter nine. chapter ten. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. At least, that’s what you and Bucky keep telling yourselves.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 4.8k

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the delay on this one angels!! january blues, a crazy work schedule, writers block.. they all came to play at the same time. but chapter seven is finally here!! I hope you enjoy it. thank you for the continued love on this - words can’t describe how incredible it is.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?”

Stella simply shrugs, sipping her cappuccino as if she has all the time in the world.

“Babe, with all due respect… I’ve been waiting for you to initiate this conversation for like two months.”

You look at her incredulously, fiddling nervously with a chip in the handle of your coffee cup.

“…Why? How?”

She smiles softly, reaching for your hand across the table.

“You’re miserable.”

You take a deep breath, and then another. After the fifth one, you find the courage to meet her eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re a hell of an actress, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not you-”

“I know. Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do.”

She waits for you, patient as ever. You’d be lying if you said the guilt wasn’t eating you up, slowly but surely from the inside out. You feel like you’ve let her down, disappointing the one person who’s given you your dream.

You realise, suddenly, that you haven't told anyone the full truth about everything. Not your Mom, not your Dad, not Lacie. Your Tethering, Bucky, the move to California - all your feelings and emotions over the past how ever many months have been bottled up and stowed away on a shelf, never to be opened. But you have the urge, now, to unscrew the cap and pour it out across the table, regardless of the mess.

So, you do.

"It's not you. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, Stel, and I couldn't be more grateful. You know that, right?"

She nods, squeezing your hand.

"It's just been hard... emotionally. So, I, the thing is, I just..."

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

"I'm Tethered. I have a soulmate, and he lives back home. We found out literally right before you called me and asked about the business. I couldn't turn you down, I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't just let it pass me by. I knew we could do this, me and you, together. And I thought I’d be able to cope.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“Being away from Bucky has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It’s like… I can’t breathe properly without him. Food isn’t as flavourful, colours aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. The separation is actually having physical effects that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’ve held out for as long as I possibly can. I was hoping that maybe it’d pass, that we’d get used to it and it’d all wear off. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse than ever. The separation is ruining us both.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to tell me not to apologise, but I am. I’m sorry. You’ve given me everything and I’m just… quitting on you. I love this job so much, Stella. I can’t even find the words to describe how much. But I think either me or Bucky will break soon. And I have to prevent that from happening.”

You inhale.

Stella looks at you with so much compassion, you fight the urge to burst into tears.

You exhale.

“Listen to me, okay? You are one of the best damn bakers I have ever met in my life. No one in culinary school even came close to you. I always knew that I wanted you on my team, by my side, in my corner - in the kitchen, and everywhere else. But-"

You chew your bottom lip, wincing when you taste copper.

“We don’t have to be in each other’s pockets. We can be business partners and not see each other everyday. These are the joys of modern technology, babe. We can call, text, video chat, and then schedule in person meetings when we can. If anyone can make a cross country partnership work, it’s us. I mean, come on.”

The weight lifts from your shoulders, slowly but surely. A glowing, molten warmth trickles through your veins, hopeful and real and alive.

“And this,” she picks up your business plan, all printed and pretty. “This is air fucking tight. I’m not saying you picked the wrong career, but… business could definitely be your Plan B.”

You laugh, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly, still choked with emotion.

“Babe, I was going to franchise the business eventually anyway. Sure, this is a little earlier than I first thought, but why the hell not? We’re successful, we’ve done so well… what’s stopping us? We know we can do this. And I trust you. So much.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, easing your death grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, I promise you. This is a good thing.”

She thinks for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, she grins at you, nosy and mischievous.

“So a soulmate, huh?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands - but you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

“Yeah. It’s been… complicated.”

“He’s that super hot guy that came to see you, right? The one that looks like he could be a model?”

Laughing, you nod, making mental note to relay this to Bucky on the phone later.

“How did it happen? Was it like, a stranger on the street moment?”

“Nope,” you recall fondly. “We knew each other already. He’s my Dad’s best friend.”

Her jaw drops open, eyes flickering across your face.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, babe.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Shit, no wonder you’ve been under so much stress. What did your Dad say?”

“He… doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“We need to tell him, I know we do, but it’s just so complicated. I’m worried that it’ll change everything, and not for the better.”

It’s been eating away at you, lately. The fact that your parents don’t know originally made perfect sense, but now? It’s been almost a year. You’ve never kept anything from them for that long. Now, you’re worried that you’ll never be able to undo the damage of lying and keeping secrets from the two people you always promised never to do that to.

"Look, I know I'm not exactly qualified to give out soulmate advice, but... you can't change this. It's literally been written in the stars. Your parents will understand, okay? But the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it'll be."

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just - it’s tough. It’s gonna change everything, forever.”

“But isn’t that the beauty of it? It’s going to change everything, forever.”

You jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around Stella, holding onto her as tightly as you can. She hugs you back fiercely, speaking a thousand words without saying anything at all.

“Proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair.

“For what?” you laugh.

“Putting yourself first. Your health, your mental wellbeing, all of it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Love you,” you whisper, fighting back tears of relief.

“Love you too, my baker extraordinaire.”

You sit back down and take a breath, deep and full. Relaxing into your chair, you allow yourself to finally think about the next steps.

“So, I was thinking about going home and scouting out locations. I have that list of places that you read over in the business plan, but I thought of a couple more last night a few miles further out. I’ve pre prepped a few days worth of our best sellers, so you should be good without me.”

“Of course, babe. I’ve circled a couple where I really liked the look of the listings you’ve printed, and written a couple of notes for you to look over - just logistical stuff. Go back home, see your family and your soulmate,” she smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, “and just relax. God knows the stress lately has taken a couple years off your life. Please, get those years back on the beach or with your man or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head. She’s right, though. The stress has been resting stagnant in your muscles, tight and wound, making everything harder. You can’t wait to sit on the sand in Bucky’s arms and feel the tension melt from your body.

“You’re the best, Stella. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”

Hours later, Bucky watches you on video call, laptop propped up on the dresser as you pack your bags excitedly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up, anticipation of the future lighting up his bones.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You show up at your parents house without warning.

You thought about calling first, but decided it’d be much more fun to surprise them. It’s a Friday evening, and you know they’ll both be sat out on the back deck, drinking wine and recapping their weeks. It’s getting warmer on the East Coast, the sounds of spring and summer slowly filtering through.

Your Mom throws open the door, her face lighting up with glee.

“Babygirl!”

She throws her arms around you, rocking you back and forth so forcefully you’re worried you might fall over.

“My baby,” she exclaims, beaming grin almost blinding you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She grabs your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling as the setting sun warms your back.

“Yeah, Mama. I am.”

She believes you. For the first time in a long time, you believe you too.

“Come on. Your Dad is gonna be so excited to see you.”

You leave your bags in the car, prioritising seeing the man who’s currently shaking his hips to the soft salsa music that’s playing.

“Nice moves, Casanova.”

He whips his head around, laughing when he sees you stood against the doorframe watching.

“You like em? I need a partner, babygirl! Come on!”

He grabs your hands, pulling you further into the yard so you have more space. You take up a terrible ballroom dance posture with him, cackling as he dips you backwards and almost drops you.

“Don’t kill my baby, please Jack!” your Mom calls from the kitchen window.

She returns with a glass of pink wine in her hand, gesturing for you to come and get it. Your Dad spins you over to her, steadying your shoulders when you trip over his shoes.

“It’s like The Universe knew you were coming to us tonight, darling. We opened the strawberry wine and everything.”

“My favourite.”

You get comfy on the loveseat, sitting across from your parents who are pressed together on the outdoor sofa. The wine is sweet and sugary and exactly what you needed.

“So, what are you doing here, kiddo?”

“It’s a little… complicated. But the good kind of complicated, I think.”

You start at the beginning. Well, almost. You leave out the part about finding Bucky, waiting for him to be with you when you tell that part of the story. You agreed that you’d talk to your parents about your relationship together, and you’re not about to break that promise. You do, however, explain everything else to them.

They listen carefully, nodding and smiling to let you know they’re still with you. When you talk about the difficulties you’ve faced, they wear matching frowns as your Mom fights back tears. Eventually, you sit in silence, waiting for their reaction.

“I wish you’d said something sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I thought I could do it on my own.”

“Honey, you never have to go through anything alone. That’s what we’re here for - we’re like, your built in therapists. Both me and your Dad would have happily listened if you’d called us, no matter the time or place.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“So this means you’re moving home?”

You nod, trying to contain the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“Well it’s a good job we didn’t end up renting your apartment, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“We thought about it, but it didn’t feel right. And we wanted to see you settle down in California first, just in case. I don’t either of us were ready to see someone else in that place. It’s yours.”

“You big softie,” you tease, nudging your Dad with your foot. He grabs it and squeezes, laughing when you squirm out of his grip.

“Well this is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?”

When you were younger, you used to get embarrassed that your Mom would throw parties for everything. Now, it’s one of your favourite things about her. She’s taught you to embrace the joy of the little things in life.

“What are you thinking, Mama?”

“Tomorrow night, a few friends. I’ll make a big paella, we can drink wine, play cards… what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it does. The ease of being back home has calmed you down, untied the knots in your shoulders. You feel warmed by love, from the inside out.

You leave your parent’s house, promising to make a dessert of some kind for tomorrow. As you drive away, you suddenly realise that you’re headed in the wrong direction. You’re not going home. You’re going to the person that feels like home.

Bucky.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He’s waiting for you on his front porch when you pull up.

“Hi, honey baby.”

“Hi, handsome.”

You launch yourself into his arms, savouring the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He smells like fresh linen and sea salt and all your future plans.

“You felt me coming, didn’t you?”

“From a mile off.”

He’s grinning, beaming in all directions.

“Good job it wasn’t a surprise visit, huh?”

“There’s no such thing anymore.”

“Good.”

He grabs your face in his work rough hands, gazing at you as if you’re the sun. You realise, suddenly, that you are. You are the one thing that his world revolves around. And he is yours. Forever.

“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare at me, hmm?”

He chuckles before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh in contentment and pull him closer by his shirt, tilting your head back to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like scotch and spearmint, a perfect picture of his evening.

“Have you been drinking alone, cowboy?”

“Needed some liquid courage. Knew you’d come by.”

“I make you nervous, huh?”

The filthy smirk written across your face sends electricity crackling across his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up.

“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“You’re really blowing up my ego, you know. I make the Bucky Barnes nervous. Who’d have thought?”

He shuts you up by kissing you again, snaking his hands around your back to plaster your bodies together. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly.

“You’re letting your hair grow.”

“You like it long.”

You stop for a moment, watching his face carefully.

“Yeah. I do. How’d you know?”

“You pull it more when it’s long. Can feel how much you like it.”

“You’re a menace,” you laugh. “How about you take me inside, and I’ll show you just how much I like it? Unless you wanna give your neighbours front row seats…”

He chuckles and shakes his head before throwing you over his shoulder, laughing harder when you start shrieking. He carries you over the threshold, a beautiful prediction of years to come.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky spend the evening in his kitchen with the windows open, watching the setting sun. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the room, tussling Bucky’s chocolate brown hair and glinting off the ice in his rocks glass.

“You want me to come with you tomorrow, when you scout locations? I’ll be your chauffeur, if you like.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the boss, baby.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

He kicks you lightly under the table, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, Buck. I’d love it if you came with. You can use your contractor knowledge and help me out.”

“It’s a date. You want me to bring my clipboard? Tape measure? Mechanical pencil?”

“You gonna bring your talking machinery too, Bob The Builder?”

Bucky stands from his chair and pulls yours out, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He spins you around before putting you down and dragging you up the stairs, kicking his bedroom door open.

He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, chuckling when you almost bounce off. You toss your shirt at his face, before shucking off your jeans and doing the same thing. He catches them with ease, winking at you before undressing himself.

He crawls up your body, kissing any skin he can find as he goes. He starts at your ankle, before moving to your knee, your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, your neck, and eventually your lips. You’re almost shaking, alive with the anticipation of having every inch of Bucky pressed against you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasps into your ear. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Just want you.”

“Need to get you ready first,” he murmurs, fingers trailing between your legs. His breath hitches when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh honey,” he groans. “You been like this all night? Hmm?”

“Since I first saw you waiting for me.”

He groans again, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Please, Buck. Just wanna feel you.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so damn pretty?

“You’re killing me,” he mutters against your skin.

Bucky slides into you with one smooth thrust, biting down on your shoulder as he does it. You shudder at the feeling, and at the thought of having the imprint of his teeth on you later.

You both gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in to you. You loop your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to press him even closer.

“Fuck me,” you choke out. “Need it, Buck.”

“My needy girl,” he chuckles lowly. “Gonna give you everything.”

Bucky retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, deep and full. You whine, and he’s convinced the sound will never be matched. It’s like angel song, rose tinted and heavenly.

He fucks you into the mattress, long, slow thrusts that make you want to cry a little. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so connected to him - every single part of you touching his, bodies plastered together and souls intertwined.

He presses open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, right into your sweet spot. When he feels you getting close, he dances his fingers down your body and circles your clit, languid but precise. Your back arches as you find your release, clawing your nails down his back and locking your ankles around his hips.

“Oh fuck, honey - fuck.”

Bucky finishes with a shudder, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder. His raspy groans hit your ears just right, sweat dripping down onto your dewy skin.

“Love you, baby. Fuck, I love you.”

You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your highs.

“I love you too,” you giggle, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.

He collapses his weight onto you, chuckling when you groan. You push him off so he can lie next to you, strong arm thrown over your stomach as he pulls you in close.

You stay tangled for a while, letting the breeze from the window cool you both down. Bucky traces absentminded patterns across your back, rough fingertips sending goosebumps over your skin.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” you murmur, keeping the volume low.

“Me too. Feels like a big step for our future, doesn’t it?”

“I just never imagined I’d have… this. You, the job I’ve always dreamed of… it doesn’t feel real. I mean, we’re going to look at places for a second location of my business. Who ever could have predicted I’d say that sentence?”

“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I told you that, that night on the beach. Before we knew. Remember?”

“I remember,” you smile, recalling that evening. You’d felt so inexplicably connected to Bucky that day. Little did you know what was to follow.

You fall asleep wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, warm and content.

You’ve never known happiness like it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The day flies by with Bucky by your side.

You’re a little out of your depth, admittedly. You don’t know much about real estate, or what makes a viable location for a bakery. But Bucky helps - explaining what to avoid, warning signs to look out for, checking out all of the boring stuff like gas mains and water pipes and backup generators. He never patronises you, even when you look at him like a deer in headlights. He clarifies himself when you become unsure, laying out explanations carefully and simply. He’s the perfect right hand man.

“You almost ready, honey?”

“Yeah Buck, give me one second!”

You walk into the kitchen where Bucky’s leaning against the counter, beer in hand. He’s in loose jeans and a linen button up, the white shirt beautifully showing off his tanned skin. He’s got several buttons undone, toned chest peeking through. He looks effortlessly perfect.

You stop in front of him, fixing the buckle on your sandals. You look up at Bucky to find him staring at you, open mouthed.

“You alright, handsome?”

“You look… you look - fuck, you look gorgeous.”

Heat rises up your skin, still so susceptible to his compliments.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he chuckles into your mouth.

Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, pulling you into him. His other hand plays with the hem of your dress, your skin burning where his fingers brush. You kiss him back harder, groaning when he nips at your bottom lip. He sucks on your tongue, and your knees buckle.

You pull back suddenly, putting three feet of distance between you.

“We need to go.”

Your hair is tousled, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you try to regain your composure. Bucky smirks at you, laughing when you flip him off.

“Come on. My parents and paella await us.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your Mom has done it again.

Golden lights adorn the beams of the deck, the table littered with flowers and wine glasses begging to be filled. There’s already a few people scattered around the yard, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.

“Oh baby, you look so beautiful.”

Your Mom engulfs you in a hug, pulling back to look at you from a distance. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, form fitting in all the right places. The skirt blows in the gentle breeze, fanning around you like an angels halo.

“This place looks amazing, Mama. I made you a tropical tart - it’s pineapple and coconut, with a mango coulis.”

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ll put it in the fridge and get you some wine, honey. Buck, you want wine or beer?”

“Wine, please Lori. You need a hand?”

“If you’re offering,” she winks, laughing when he pokes her in the side as they leave towards the kitchen.

“Your father says you’re moving back home.”

You turn around to see Cora looking at you expectantly. You haven’t seen her since the incident that evening months ago.

“Uh, yeah. I love California, but I think I outgrew it after culinary school.”

She nods at you in faux sympathy, overbearing and sickly sweet.

“Aw, sweetie. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we hoped, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

You look for an exit, but she rubs your arm in support, pulling you back.

“I saw you today, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! Down on Maple, by the corner. You were with Bucky.”

You freeze suddenly, blood running cold. You and Bucky are always affectionate, whether you mean to be or not. It’s just the way it is, being alongside your soulmate. Of course, Cora doesn’t know this. All she’s seen is you, out in town with your Dad’s best friend, looking cosier than platonic.

Your ears are ringing. You wonder, for a second, if you’re experiencing deja vu.

“Yeah, he… he has contracting experience. Just needed a second opinion. I’m no builder, after all.”

You force a laugh, willing the ground to swallow you up.

“You two are friends? You seem pretty close.”

She’s watching you, waiting for a reaction. You don’t give it to her.

“I’ve known him for a while, I see him often. He’s a good friend to my Dad, so you can imagine we know each other pretty well by now.”

“Yeah. It sure looked like it.”

You’re wracking your brain, trying to understand what she saw. Then it hits you.

On the corner of Maple is a florist’s, alive with blooming flowers and plants of every colour. You’d been admiring the tulips when Bucky had wrapped his arms around you from behind, whispering in your ear about how you’re the prettiest flower of all, honey.

There’s no running away from this. She’s caught you, in broad daylight.

“We’re friends,” you reiterate, praying for mercy.

You shoot her a fake smile before turning on your heel, making a beeline for the kitchen to find your Mom. When you get there, you gulp down your entire glass of strawberry wine, begging the sugar to lift your mood and calm your nerves.

The rest of the night goes off fairly smoothly.

You eat paella and fruit tart, drink wine, laugh with your parents and their friends. Bucky occasionally slips a hand beneath the table, squeezing your thigh in silent reassurance. You tangle your fingers with his for a moment before letting go, praying everyone else is none the wiser.

Every time Cora opens her mouth, your chest constricts a little. But she seems to have learnt her lesson somewhat, only speaking to tell obnoxiously long and tangent filled stories and offer comments no one asked for. Eventually, you all disperse from the table, making conversation elsewhere.

“What’s on your mind?” a low voice rasps in your ear.

You’re sat on the swing in the corner of the garden, watching the world go by. Bucky snakes his arm over the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

“Cora saw us today. Think she knows.”

“She’s a fucking nuisance.”

You laugh, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s bones.

“Yeah, she is. She’s also a gossip. She won’t keep her mouth shut for long if she thinks she’s sitting on something newsworthy.”

He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“So we tell them.”

“So we tell them.”

You lean back into Bucky’s arm, inhaling the familiar scent of peace.

“We should do it as soon as possible.”

“How about tomorrow?”

You nod, biting your glossy lips.

“Yeah. We need to do it sometime, and we’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Bucky nudges closer to you, so your sides are pressed together.

“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, honey girl.”

You smile gently.

“I know. I don’t think I believed you the first time you said that to me. But I do now.”

“You and me against the world, baby.”

“You and me against the world, Buck.”

It truly feels like it, at the moment. You and Bucky against the world.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara  @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[penwieldingdreamer]

A Shot in the Dark ~ Prologue

Well, welcome to my latest obsession - FBI and OA Zidan. This is a crossover between FBI, FBI: Most Wanted & Blue Bloods. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in any future chapters.

I do not own any of the characters of the FBI Franchise and Blue Bloods, they belong to their respective owners

Summary It's said, you'll always meet twice in life. But you never thought it be in a hostage situation with a gun pressed against your head.

Warnings: hostage situation, canon typical violence, coarse language, smut in later chapters

The human mind is really the scariest thing of all.

Life in general is scary, and yet you step out of your home each day and face it. You imagine how a situation might turn out if you just changed one thing in your day to day life. Sometimes it’s the sandwich they didn’t have at the bakery and sometimes it’s the choice you make on the job.

“Andrew, drop the gun and let my sister go!” Detective Danny Reagan called, his own weapon trained on the former NYPD officer, voice shaking as he looked at you, seeing his own fear mirrored in your eyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this. You want me. Let the kids and her go.”

Shaking his head, former police officer Andrew O'Sullivan pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against your temple. "They are all the leverage I need to get you to do what I want."

"O'Sullivan! This is Agent Scott and Agent Bell with the FBI. Surrender your weapons and let the hostages go. We will make sure that your demands are met, but you need to let the kids and Miss Reagan go."

You could feel the tears running down your cheeks, but you knew you had to be strong for the children. Their parents put you in charge and you, as their teacher, needed to make sure they'd get out safe. “Please Mister O’Sullivan, you got me, let the children go home. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

Your heart was hammering in your throat watching your brother desperately trying to get Andrew to drop the weapon, the ground feeling like it was going to be pulled from underneath you. And here you thought it was going to be a good day today.

Five hours earlier, 9:15 Bluestone Lane Tribeca Café

"So, heard anything from tall, dark and handsome? You looked cute together."  

“Erin!”

“Mom! You’re embarrassing her.”

The lawyer grinned into her coffee mug as the three of you sat together for breakfast. "What!? I saw pictures from way back when. It's been more than four years now, just thought maybe you'd have a run in with him again."

"Nope, haven't seen him since before he started training at Quantico and you would know that. I'm practically living with dad and pop again after those idiots living above me wouldn't have smoked weed and forgot to shut off the water."

Nicky only rolled her eyes at her mother trying to play matchmaker – as always. “You should leave Y/N alone. Danny would have a field day if she came home with him.”

“Thank you, Nicky, I knew why you were my favorite niece.” You took a bite from your chocolate croissant. Usually you’d be getting the breakfast sandwich the café was famous for but today they were all out.

“I’m your only niece, so that’s not a hard feat to do.”

“Yet.” You pointed a finger at the younger woman. “And I don’t even know where he is. I’ll not be running after him and use dads resources to find him.”

“All I’m saying is that you should get laid, you can’t just stay a single workaholic forever." 

Sending your sister a disapproving look, you could see the disgust on your nieces face. She was old enough to be part of that conversation and already had one boyfriend, yet you knew she was absolutely embarrassed by her mother's choice of breakfast conversation.

"Mom! God! I'll be heading off to work or you'll start talking about dad and yourself." Nicky, so much like Erin grabbed her purse and to-go cup, leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek before she moved next to you. With her arm draped over your shoulder, she leaned in as if to whisper into your ear but still spoke at normal volume. "Don't let her bully you into looking him up. You do you, Auntie, but she's right, you need to get laid."

Slack jawed at her gall, you turned accusatory eyes on the lawyer. "That's definitely on you, Erin. You taught her to be like that."

"Well, she's definitely got that from me and she'd make a great lawyer like that."

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back in your chair.

Damn, they were right.

Quickly apologizing to God under your breath, you try to anchor yourself to your mug. It had been years since you had seen Omar. You had met him outside a bar in the Financial District, after a date had dumped her right before dessert, telling her she wasn’t worth his time.

“He’s a dick, he wasn’t going to know what to do with you anyway.”

You sat together at the bar and talked about random stuff – friends, hobbies, only things that wouldn’t compromise him as you later found out he was undercover for the DEA.

“You’re quiet, what are you thinking about?”

Blinking, you watched your sister with a small, wistful smile, something she had seen so often when you had gone out to have breakfast with Nicky and her every Saturday morning. “Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, but the secret smile that barely turned up the corners of your mouth was still there and the lawyer knew that one, she had seen it often enough.

Erin took a sip from her coffee, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t give me that shit, Y/N. It’s Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You admitted quietly, looking down at your fingers, busy playing with the white napkin under your croissant.

“You should get Eddie to look for him, maybe he’s in town.”

Shaking your head vigorously. “No, I’ll not be looking for him. We would have seen each other, probably...maybe.”

“New York is huge, you think you’d just walk down Broadway and bam! There he is? Y/N, I can assure you, that’s not how it works.” She laughs, knowing all about it with her ex-husband Jack. “You want him, you need to look for him, he’s not just going to turn up if you snap your fingers.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look for him, maybe it wasn’t meant to be if I haven’t run into him by now. Or maybe he’s somewhere in D.C., happily married with 1.93 kids, living in the suburbs and chasing the bad guys.”

Chuckling, the lawyer shook her head at you. “You got it all figured out now, huh? Maybe he’s still single, thinking about that maybe with you. He was really nice when he came around for lunch that day.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Eddie wouldn’t shut up about him for a week straight.” Just then your phone chimed, letting you know that you needed to get ready to get to your Junior High class for their field trip to the museum. You would meet them together with their parents right in front of the museum. “Shit, I’m late! Sorry Erin, I got to head off.”

“We’re not done talking about him!” She called after you as you raced out of the cafe to the next Metro station.

An hour and a half later you remind your seventh grade students to be nice and listen closely to the lady showing you around the National History Museum. “There’s going to be a test on Monday next week, so you guys should take notes on all of this.”

A groan ripped through the hall and I knew they hated me for this. “But Miss Reagan, you said we could have fun today.” Jimmy calls from the back, a frown on his cute face. 

Giggling, you shook your head. They were still thinking it was just going to stay easier from there on out. “I did, but it doesn’t mean you guys can slack off on your school work. This is going to help you with your Science project.”

Groans, followed by sighs from your students were the end of that conversation. You and the group of thirteen-year-olds followed Mrs. Langdon as she talked about the museum, which exhibitions had already been part of the building and what was waiting for the boys and girls of Lower Manhattan Middle School. They were in the Early Adolescence stage and it was absolutely normal for them to act like that. With Nicky, Jack and Sean you had been exposed to that stage early on and you loved them for it.

You entered the Saurichian Hall of the museum, awed by the skeletons, the hairs on your arms starting to raise from the goosebumps at the imagination of having lived back in time, 66 millennia’s ago. But somehow, it wasn’t the only thing that gave you the shivers. At the entrance of the museum you had seen a guy, dressed like everyone else. But you had been around police your whole life and listened to your bothers to know that something was definitely wrong with him. His head was down but you saw his eyes darting about like he was searching for something – or someone.

Getting to the next section, you slightly turned your head away from your students excitingly listening to the tales of each dinosaur exhibited at the museum.

There he was again, the backpack slung low on his shoulders and it looked like he was sweating. Was he sick and needed help? If so, wouldn’t he have asked the people at the front desk or even stayed at home.

Danny had always told you to be vigilant about suspicious people roaming about and this guy fit the description. Should you text Danny or Jamie? They were probably busy with their cases and if he was just a creep you’d make a fool out of yourself and maybe your dad in extension.

Police Commissioner’s daughter accuses visitor at the National History Museum to be a creep and makes a laughing stock out of the Reagan family.

Now that would be the headline of the week.

Turning back to listen to Mrs. Langdon and your students with a sigh you missed him pulling out a gun from under his jacket, pointing it at your back before slightly lifting it up and pulling the trigger.

11:40, Joint Operations Center

“Alright guys, we've got a hostage situation at the National History Museum. Twenty-two students from LoMa Middle School and their teacher. This is high profile. Detective Reagan with the NYPD called it in about fifteen minutes ago.” ASAC Jubal Valentine’s voice rang out through the JOC. He motioned to Elise, one of the Analysts to put every information on the screens. “This is Y/N Reagan, she’s a teacher at the school and also the daughter of New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan.”

Your picture popped up on the screens, a happy smile on your face as you sat together with your father and your brother Jamie at a city function.

“You know, now that I’m done with my trainee-ship as teacher, we could make it official. Dad wants me to tag along at this function or other and I’d like to take you as my plus one.” You smiled at him, your arms slung around his neck as you lounged together on his bed.

Omar ran his fingers from your shoulder to your elbow and up again. He loved the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, slightly roughed from the army. “It would be nice, I’d love to finally show you off to my family as well. Erin has been nagging me like a hen to know who the guy is making me smile all day.” He smiled, nuzzling her neck and listening to her giggles as his nose and beard rubbed up and down against that point where her neck met her shoulder.

"I'd like that. I bet your sister isn't the only one nagging." He chuckled, burrowing closer and pushing his lower half against yours earning a soft groan from you.

Your fingers raked over his head, feeling the short cropped hair tickle the palm of your hands. “Pop and dad are already giving me those penetrative looks, you know the ones where they are acting like cops and trying to read a suspects thoughts.”

Closing his eyes, the former army ranger breathed in your scent. It was the one thing that grounded him on days his mind sent him back to Iraq. “From what you told me I’m more afraid of your brother, not your father and grandpa.”

Omar moved next to Maggie, a soft Shit leaving his lips as his eyes swept over the screens. It had been a few years since he’d last seen you, only a few days short of leaving for his training at Quantico. Seeing your face, tear track staining your cheeks with the suspect pressing his gun to your head.

The brunette watched her partner, the fingers of his left hand anxiously playing with his ring. A sign that he was nervous. A sign Maggie had learned in the beginning when they first were partnered up.

“You know her?”

He sighed, “We, ugh, we dated for a while before, before I went into training. I...broke it off, because I thought she’d be better off without me.”

“Gosh, OA.” Maggie murmured, scratching a fingernail along her eyebrow thoughtfully. She knew her partner had been in relationships before – he was Muslim, not a virginal saint, but she had never seen him this distraught or anxious. 

It was clear as day that you were still important to him and it took everything in him to not run out the door and drive off toward the museum.

"What do we have on the suspect?" Isobel questioned, coming to stand next to her 2nd in charge. 

"Suspect is 40 year old Andrew O'Sullivan, former police officer with the NYPD, 54th Precinct and bomb specialist with the Marines. Detective Daniel Reagan, Y/N’s older brother was part of the investigation against him.” Kelly Moran, an analyst at the JOC spoke up, tapping hastily on his keyboard and sending the pictures of their suspect to the bigger screens. “He took drugs from evidence and tried to sell it on the street. O’Sullivan needed it for his daughter, she has leukemia and he was going to take the money to pay for her treatments.”

The analyst pressed a key to show the picture of a little girl, maybe ten years old, grinning at the camera. “Lena O’Sullivan, she”

“His daughter died two days ago, that’s why he’s doing it. He wanted to save her from it and we took the money that would pay for her treatment. Andrew has been angry with me for a while and called me after Lena died.” A new voice sounded from behind them, strong and authoritative, yet they could all hear the pain laced into his words. “He has my sister and if you guys don’t get a move on, Andrew is going to kill them all.” Detective Daniel Reagan had made his way to the JOC, knowing he couldn’t make a move against O’Sullivan without the people of the FBI. You were his little sister and he’d be damned just sitting around at the precinct when he needed to get you to safety. More so when Erin would have his head for being the reason the former officer had you and your kids as hostages.

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Gentle Hands (Part Three)

Stalker Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: Fights, make-ups, another fight, a badly arranged foreplay and cameras. What does good for Ilsa really look like? And what cost does it come at?

Warnings: Allusions to a physical fight between R and Ilsa, angst, losing Mario Kart because of Toad, brief panty sniffing (Ilsa you creep), bad foreplay that results in hurt feelings (brief), consensual SMUT (oral Ilsa recieving, masturbation via partner (Ilsa touches R), sweet talking, breast fondling, Ilsa being a creep with cameras).

A/N: Took a break mid-smut sequence to complete tasks for the big green bird. He is sated (for now).

Word Count: 5.4k (Eat up gremmies)

It had been a week since Ilsa had abducted you. Ilsa, not Lisa. She insisted that you call her by her ‘correct’ name now that it was just the two of you. Ilsa was horrendously efficient at erasing your past life. She sent in your urgent notice of resignation the morning after she’d taken you into her apartment. She’d also installed brand new locks inside your home, all electronic, finger-print coded locks. They were high-tech, you couldn’t fake it with a thumb print on a piece of tape. She allowed you to move between her house and your home, mostly to move your things into her town home. You were never allowed outside without her knowledge. You also couldn’t open any windows without an alarm going off. Every single exit in the home was barred, and every single moment of your life was spent with Ilsa.

“Darling, can you make us a cup of tea?” Ilsa asked, brow furrowed as she cracked into another bank account. 

Ilsa’s new hobby was re-establishing her wire transfer network. By this point you knew she was a former intelligence operative, or more likely a seasoned criminal. She had connections and skills that didn’t make sense otherwise. Your new hobby was Mario Kart and baking. You cooked incessantly, as it was the only thing that felt ‘normal’. That and making lattes. You could really only make two for yourself in a day. Ilsa wasn’t fond of you increasing your caffeine intake more than what she deemed ‘healthy’. She was so fond of ‘healthy’ endeavours. So you worked out with her in the mornings. She was teaching you how to box. It was therapeutic, getting to take out all of your frustrations on the person who was the root of them. Mostly. Ilsa had a nasty habit of getting too into it and treating you too roughly.

“Darling?”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m on it.”

You moved into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and preparing the two mugs. Ilsa liked her coffee bland. Cream. Zero sugar. In Ilsa’s mind, sugar was the devil. Mostly because she made up for it in alcohol. With the cup of black tea with just a splash of cream, Ilsa was back at work. You left her side, hoping to skip out on the mandatory ‘morning couple time’.

‘Ah, ah. Not so fast. You come back here.” Ilsa chuckled.

You sat back down next to her.

“Why so frigid, hmm? Come, sit in my lap for a bit.” Ilsa gave a sly smirk.

You remained put, and Ilsa sighed, giving a playful pout.

“You’re no fun.”

Crossing your arms and ignoring her comments felt like second-nature at this point. You were upset with her, as was reasonably so. She’d abducted you and disconnected you from the outside world. It was infuriating, watching her snip off the connections you had to society, to your family bit by carefully timed bit. But last night was the worst. Your Mom had called. You’d tried to send her some sort of message that things weren’t fine, that you were being held against your will, but Ilsa wouldn’t have it. 

‘Are you still upset about Bella?”

At the sound of her name, the cat let out a soft ‘meh’ sound, stretching out her fur-encased arms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Holding a knife to my cat’s throat? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isa sighed softly, giving you a soft glance that said, ‘I know, I know’. Her eyebrow and lip were still taped up.

“I paid for it, I knew that it wasn’t fair to you, and I paid for it.”

Moreso, she’d let you hit her. You’d lost count of how many punches you’d given before she finally restrained you. There was a bruise on one of your knuckles. You didn’t feel vindicated, the contrary. Hitting her felt weak. She was stronger than you, quicker, skilled in a thousand ways that you weren’t, and she’d taken the punches until she deemed that it was enough.

“I’m angry.” you huffed. “Why couldn’t you have used a different method.”

“Like what? Holding a knife to your throat? We both know I’d never mean it. I couldn’t intentionally harm you, but if it came down to it, I’d do a lot of awful things to keep you around.”

“I thought you liked Bella!”

“I do, princess, I do. It’s just that I needed you to not raise suspicion.” Ilsa sighed.

“Yeah, not tell the fucking truth about what’s going on.” you spat back.

“I know you don’t like this life, but I have given so much to ensure it’s better than your old-”

“Better how? It was my life before! Mine! It wasn’t perfect, but at least I was working towards a better future with honest work!”

Ilsa laughed.

“Oh, and what I do isn’t honest?”

“I don’t steal.”

“No, you were stolen from. You were spending hours working one of the most difficult, draining jobs for sub-par pay and zero safety net aside from the government’s shitty one.” Ilsa scoffed. “I steal, sure. But it’s from people who steal from people like you. And I steal a small amount from a lot of wicked, evil people. And I’m using it to protect something good.”

“Exhausting, isn’t it.”

“Oh come off it.” Ilsa groaned.

“Your personal fable is maintained at the cost of morality-”

“Do you really think I have what society considers to be ‘morals’?” Ilsa cut you off.

“No.”

“Then stop wasting your time. You’re upset, you’re angry, and I’m not doing anything to make it better. You’re not getting your old life back, accept it and move on.”

Ilsa reached for her desk, grabbing a cherry vape and inhaling slowly. She pushed out a series of rings, momentarily focusing on vape tricks.

“I’m not in the mood for couple time.” 

You made it about three paces out of the office before Ilsa’s arms were around your waist and restraining you. She pulled you back into her office, attaching a handcuff from her chair to your wrist.

“This is supposed to make me hate you any less?”

“Forced proximity does wonders for the mind.” Ilsa mused, taking another hit off of her vape.

“So Stockholm syndrome?”

Ilsa chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“The academic.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“And look where it got me? Working at a damn coffee shop.”

Ilsa hummed, amused by the interaction.

“You know what you need?”

“My freedom.” you cracked back.

“Day drinking.” Ilsa rolled her eyes. “This little mood swing would just fade away with some alcohol.”

“I’m not getting drunk so you can fuck me.”

The former agent groaned, turning off her computer. She wouldn’t deny it. She did want that, but not while you were intoxicated. She had some morals.

“I can’t work in such a hostile work environment.” 

“Wasn’t your entire thing working in hostile environments?” you smirked, poking at her ex-operative past.

“And I’d never go back.” Ilsa sighed. 

She was nice enough to unfasten your cuff, giving you free reign, or so you thought.

“No, no, no.” Ilsa chided, pulling you back into her body. “You and I are going to do something fun.”

You were out of one-liners at this point. In all honesty, it was exhausting being angry with her. That’s all you were, angry with her. She led you through the kitchen, and then she opened the door to the garden. It was a decent day, but chilly. Ilsa shoved a sweatshirt over your head, which you begrudgingly put on all the way. The fresh air felt good.

“Bella, goddammit!” Ilsa swore, the fat tuxedo evading the dirty blonde before she could catch her once more.

“Just let her outside. She deserves it as much as I do.”

Ilsa sighed, shaking her head. 

“Only because you’re upset with me.”

“Kills you, doesn’t it?” you snarked back on instinct.

But the barbed jab you expected in return never came. There was just silence, which Ilsa broke by clearing her throat. You’d inadvertently hit the nail on the head. She was upset, and she was anxious. You’d forgotten how much she did care. Ilsa didn’t just abduct someone because she could. She wasn’t a ‘because I can’ person. And the arguments you’d been having all morning, all week really, they were upsetting.

“I’m not going to feel bad just because you’re playing the victim card.”

“Stop. Just fucking stop.” Ilsa’s voice broke. “Get your ass back inside.”

“Ilsa, I’m-”

“No, nope. Inside.”

You walked inside the house, shutting the door behind you. You never did get a good glance at Ilsa’s face, but you didn’t need to. Through the screen door, you saw her slump to her knees on the back door steps, and her shoulders heaved. And there was that guilt again. Bella had slunk inside with you again, pawing at the door in confusion.

“I can’t let you out.” you whispered.

“Meh.” she protested.

“It was your own fault, you should’ve stayed outside.”

The walk upstairs to yours and Ilsa’s room felt a lot harder than was reasonable. You knew that it wasn’t all that rational to feel guilty about tormenting someone who was equally, if not exceeding you in torment. But you could empathise with her pain. She was doing a lot for you. And even though you couldn’t go outside without her, even leave the garden, she was doing a lot for you. The food in the fridge, you didn’t pay for. The furniture and games you wound down with hadn’t been out of your pocket, and the skills she was teaching you, the boxing, the german, the little tricks for hacking, those were all things she’d given you for nothing much, other than a few small requests.

Out of the second story hallway window, you could see Ilsa leaving the garden, slipping into her Benz. She’d be gone for hours, probably. And your time felt… Hollow. Mario Kart was repetitive and infuriating. Language learning with help from the green bird didn’t amount to shit, even with Ilsa’s super membership. Nothing you did was fulfilling. So you did as your cat did, slumping into the bed and taking a nap. But still, that didn’t feel right. With great mortification and a small degree of realised irony, you picked up Ilsa’s pillow and buried your face into it. Then, and only then, did you sleep.

<->

Ilsa didn’t do anything but drive. She ended up in a farmer’s field, sitting behind a hedge and just fucking fuming. She was mad. Mad at herself, mad at you, mad at her life. In another life she could have pursued you normally. In another life where she could walk into a supermarket at rush hour without fear of an anxiety episode, she could have struck up a conversation with you there. But she wasn’t normal. And so she’d resort to abnormal methods to get you, because something with you was better than nothing. 

“Bella, you silly girl.” Ilsa sighed as she walked into the house, blocking the fat tuxedo from getting out.

It was quiet, too quiet for Ilsa’s tastes. She rushed through the house, looking for you in every room until she eventually burst into the bedroom. You were curled up, sleeping. Ilsa slumped against the doorframe, letting out an audible sigh of relief. And… Was that her pillow? Jesus Christ, you were precious. Ilsa took off her shoes and her overcoat. She was wet from the rain, so everything came off, aside from underwear and a sports bra. Slipping into bed with you felt so right. Ilsa needed that physical contact with you, and she’d sneak it where she could. The pillow was replaced by her arms, a delicate act of shifting. You smelled so good to Ilsa. 

“Oh… Princess.” Ilsa whispered, almost ready to cry again.

This week had been the most infuriating week of her life. You almost never touched Ilsa, unless it was in a boxing set-up. Training you had been a lovely way to break tension. She could guide your posture, adjusting your body with her hands. Showers were the best thing for Ilsa. She’d let you finish up a few exercises while she showered, using the head to relieve the ceaseless aching that came when she was too close to you for too long. And the emotional whiplash. Ilsa was fatigued of the constant bickering, arguing and overall tension between the two of you; not the sexy kind. Drugging you again was a thought that flicked through her head daily. Just long enough to cuddle you, to breathe in the smell of your skin without the threat of you waking up.

“Mmph.” she heard you softly complain.

You shifted your body, wiggling deeper into her arms. With every exhale, your breath would ghost over her neck and it was driving her insane.

“Princess, don’t tease, I know-”

“Shut up.” you mumbled, clumsily pawing at her face to get her to stop talking.

Ilsa let out a startled laugh. She’d forgotten you were a light sleeper.

“Shh… Let me sleep.” you continued to complain.

Ilsa rolled her eyes, holding you closer, half-listening to your complaints. 

“Let me hold you.”

And this time you didn’t push her off. She was warm, body temperature raised from her run, or wherever she’d been. She smelled like hay, for whatever reason. Bella, sensing the cuddle puddle, hopped up on the bed, sniffing around the two of you, turning about four or five times before she slumped into the bed, yawning. 

“Are you still upset with me?” Ilsa eventually asked.

“A little.” you admitted. “It would be hard not to be. I don’t like feeling guilty for making you upset.”

“Because you want to hurt me for what I’m doing to you?”

You let a frustrated sigh. When she put it like that, it made you sound like an asshole. It was complicated.

“I don’t like that I can feel myself starting to like you. Because you’re not mean, you don’t hurt me, and you take so much of my shit. I’d be lucky to find someone like you, but you’ve taken my entire life.”

Ilsa hummed, shifting you in her arms. She took another deep breath, and you felt her thigh graze your pant leg.

“Are you just in a bra and panties? Seriously?”

And just like that, whatever understanding you were going to reach disappeared. She was a constant voyeur. When you baked, when you read, and you suspected when you were changing. You’d never seen one of the cameras, but you were sure they were there somewhere. Hence you hadn’t been masturbating at all. It was infuriating, the lead up to your period didn’t make it too difficult, but still. A week with nothing? 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ilsa sat up, trying to pull you back. “Stay on the bed, I’ll go change. My clothes were wet, Jesus Christ.”

Ilsa grabbed a change of clothes, shutting the bathroom door behind her. She stripped completely, mumbling something under her breath about ‘not catching a damn break’. That’s when she saw them. You never left your clothes out anymore, shoving them in the hamper. You were religious about home cleanliness with nothing else to do, so most laundry was collected and washed. You’d left your panties out after your morning shower, probably because you still had Bella on your mind.

“I think I’m just going to take a shower, my hair’s all wet.” Ilsa called from inside the bathroom. 

“Yeah, whatever.” you called back.

Ilsa turned on the shower, stepping in the water for a moment, then stepping right back out. She needed her body wet to maintain the lie, long enough for her to enjoy the remnants left in your panties.

“Oh my.” Ilsa whispered to herself.

Her body heated up almost immediately, nasty thought after more damnable nasty thought flicking through her head. She wanted to pin you to the bed so badly. What would you smell like at the source? And the taste? How rich it would be, how debaucherous and unsoiled. Not these cloth remnants. She dropped the cloth garment to the floor, staggering back into the shower. She needed to focus, to breathe, to run her fingers over the dripping wet seam between her labia. It wasn’t enough. When had this stopped being enough?

<->

You hadn’t seen Ilsa since she’d gotten in the shower. You were fully awake by the time she had left the bed, and there was no sense hanging around. Not for her, anyways. By this point in the mid-afternoon, day drinking seemed excusable. So you slipped into the basement and found one of Ilsa’s wine bottles. You weren’t a wine drinker. Especially dark wines. But alcohol was alcohol. A glass of wine and Mario Kart on a weekday afternoon? The lap of luxury, truly.

“Hey.” you heard a breathy sigh near your ear.

“Hi Ilsa. I’m busy.”

The woman sat next to you. She smelled nice. Vanilla cashmere lotion. How long had she been grooming for? Not that you cared.

“Can you be a little less busy for me?” Ilsa asked.

You turned, looking at her full on as you paused the game. You opened your mouth to snark at her, but she looked… Good. Her hair was a little damp and she’d taken pains to get herself clean.

“Umm, what is this about?” you gestured to her sweats that were just a little too tight.

Ilsa took a deep breath in. 

“I want to spend some time with you. Do you mind if I pour myself a glass of wine?”

“It’s your house and your wine, don’t ask me for permission.” you shrugged.

Ilsa chuckled, a breathy sound. What was up with her. You didn’t care, you just unpaused the game, returning to the high stakes race that was ‘Rainbow Road’. Ilsa busied herself, pouring herself a glass of wine. She settled beside you, eyeing the glass of wine you’d barely touched.

“I keep thinking…” Ilsa whispered in your ear. “About that night you came over with my friends…”

She was distracting, and you had to fight to stay on course.

“Ilsa, please, I’m trying to get a trophy right now.”

Ilsa had other plans. Better plans. Plans that involved you paying attention to her. So she scooted closer, using the distraction of your hands on the switch controller to place her hands on your waist.

“Just wait, I’m almost fini-”

The former spy leaned in, her mouth meeting your neck. Wet, sinful kisses placed one after the other on your rapidly accelerating pulse, tongue slipping out just past her lips, tracing lines and patterns over the sensitive skin.

“I can’t get your taste out of my mouth, I can’t unhear your little moans.” Ilsa whispered, a distinct reediness to her voice, like she was speaking with a sore throat.

“I have one more lap, please, Ilsa.” you groaned, searching for anything to get away from the woman, even briefly.

But was it her you were trying to get away from, or yourself? You couldn’t deny how hot it had been to makeout with her, how sexy and commanding she had been. And her hands were slipping lower, squeezing and releasing your hips in time with those kisses trailing up your neck, to your jaw, to your ear.

“You said you didn’t do hookups, but I think we can both agree that it wouldn’t be a one time thing.”

There was a lump in your throat. You had to cough to dislodge it. You were in first, you could let down your guard for a-

“Fucking toad!” you growled, all of your senses back in gear to win rainbow road.

“Toad can wait.” Ilsa growled.

She swung her leg over your lap, settling her pelvis in the space created by your crossed legs. This time her mouth was hungry, nipping, sucking licking. Over your neck, your jaw, biting and sucking your earlobe into your mouth. The grip on the controller grew lax, and you shut your eyes, not even caring that it caused your car to slip off the race track right before the finish line.

“I’m listening, I’m listening, Jesus.” you swore. 

Ilsa looked into your eyes, nibbling on her lip with mixed desire and anxiety.

“One night.” Ilsa begged. “Just one.”

You opened your mouth to say no. But that look in her eyes… One night couldn’t hurt. She was a good kisser, she’d treat you right… And then you could go back to hating her in the morning. But a little steam. Just letting loose a little.

“... Okay. Just one night.”

Ilsa didn’t delay. She didn’t wait. Her mouth was on yours, and she let out a sound in between a hum and a huff, like she was relieved and yet still frustrated that it had taken this long. Placing your arms around her waist felt right. She had a firm, muscular backside, but in the jumper she was wearing, she had a softer feeling. And though her mouth was demanding and needy at first, Ilsa slowed down, pressing her lips against yours slowly, tongue lightly gracing your bottom lip with every soft smooch. You opened your mouth just a little, gracing your tongue with the feeling of her bottom lip, her tongue. Ilsa held your head steady, leaning in and drawing your tongue out, just long enough to divert it so she could slip her tongue in. She tasted like red wine, and… She’d been chewing that cherry tobacco again. She tasted like sin. One of your hands slipped beneath her jumper, tracing those abs that were always peeking out below her sports bra. She had a soft layer of tissue above the muscles, like a padded layer making her harder points comfortable.

“Princess, take off that t-shirt for me.” Ilsa whispered.

You chuckled.

“I will, but you’ve got to tell me why I’m ‘princess’ in the first place.”

Ilsa smiled, kissing your jaw softly.

“Innocent, gentle, and those hands.” Ilsa smirked, cupping one of your hands against her bare waist. “Princess hands, so dainty and gentle.”

You blushed, and you didn’t resist as she brought one of your hands to her mouth, gently kissing your palm, your knuckles, and then eventually, enveloping your fingers in her mouth entirely.

“Mmm…” Ilsa hummed, a wrinkle relaxing around her eyes. “Finally.” she whispered, kissing your hands again, one after the other.

There was a gentle beat, and then she reached for your t-shirt, pulling it off as you raised your arms. Ilsa spent a good minute just looking at your bare chest. She reached out, aiming to touch one of your breasts, but she paused.

“May I?”

There was irony here in her asking consent, but you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on those soft eyes and how they twinkled with excitement.

“You may.” 

She reached out with both hands, cupping your breasts, humming softly. She didn’t stay in one place for long, massaging your sides and gently kissing your collarbone. It was easy to relax, even as she lowered you to lay sideways on the couch, it was easy to relax. You helped her take off your pants and your panties, and Ilsa was quick to pull off her sweats, leaving her in nothing but a sheer, see through bra and panty set.

“I didn’t know we were dressing up.” you flushed, trying to hide your arousal.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d have ripped off whatever you were wearing anyway.” Ilsa husked, settling atop your hips, crossing her arms.

“... Do you know that Ankah meme?”

Ilsa rolled her eyes, not giving two shits about you and your little memes. Her lips attacked your neck again, urging you to just get lost in the moment. Her hair was soft under your fingertips, and her back… You wanted to take a moment to just admire every curve of her spine, of her trapezius, her deltoids, her latissimus dorsi. She made you smarter, you realised. It was her training, her attention. She’d taught you the names of these muscles, and she’d teach you more, you realised.

“I can’t be slow, honey, I’m so sorry.” Ilsa whispered.

You met her eyes. She looked so… 

“What do you need?”

Ilsa tugged off her panties, then the bra. You watched in shock as a literal string of arousal extended from her entrance to the cloth of the panties, before eventually snapping back.

“Oh.. My go-”

Ilsa wasn’t in the mood for talking, rather only in the mood for one thing. She shoved the soiled panties into your agape mouth, nearly causing you to gag.

“No talking, none.” Ilsa huffed.

She slipped one leg over your hip, the other leg slipping beneath one of yours on the opposite side. Ilsa was going to press your bodies together, but the shocked look on your face gave her pause.

“Sorry, I’m not thinking.” Ilsa sighed, pulling her panties out of your mouth. “Do I have your consent?”

“Can we maybe slow down?”

Ilsa let out an angry noise. You weren’t expecting her to just… Get up and leave.

“Woah, woah, this isn’t effective communication, you’re not telling me what you need!” you ran after her, noting how her ass would jiggle a bit with every step.

“I’m too frustrated, and it’ll be better for me if I just do it myself.” Ilsa spat.

Now you were confused. She’d begged you to have sex with her, and now she didn’t want it.

“Hey, hey, let’s talk about this.” you tried, snagging her elbow.

Ilsa had tears in her eyes. Now you felt like an ass, and it must have showed on your face, because Ilsa blubbered out reassurances immediately after.

“I just… I am so frustrated, it hurts.” Ilsa stammered.

It was those eyes. It had to be those eyes, because you wouldn’t have done what you did next without some explanation. Taking her hips, you pushed her against the hallway wall, falling to your knees in front of her, hooking one of her thighs over your shoulders.

“Just let me take care of you, hmm?”

Ilsa groaned, tangling her hands in your hair, tugging at the roots. The tension in her body evaporated as your arms glided up her thighs to rest on her hips. Your eyes looking up at her, so glassy and reassuring. Your mouth open, wet, hot, air ghosting over the mess that was her core. And then those lips, closing over her entrance, tongue parting her labia, drawing steady strokes up and down, igniting pleasurable sensations that slithered up and down her spine. Ilsa relaxed, letting out a long, satisfied moan. All these months of stalking, of monitoring, of tirelessly working to get you here… And now you were on your knees, gently servicing her with those wet, warm lips. She nearly cried when you wrapped your lips around her clit, licking and sucking, drawing steady circles over the buzzing nerve. 

But for you… This was a different experience. You were nervous, anxious to please, anxious to bring her relief, and almost too focused on the process… That was until her fingers drew up and down your scalp in little scratching motions. You moaned into her, to which she gasped, and whimpered. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. You trailed your hands down, parting her outer labia and pulling the clitoral hood up, only to let out a deep moan around the nerve. 

“Fuck!” Ilsa cried out, her hips bucking. “Oh my god, pleaseeee.”

You hummed again, licking and sucking at her clit with full abandon. Her hips canted in circles, grinding herself into your mouth, against your chin. You felt a mix of saliva and her own arousal slipping down your chin, to your neck.

“Just like that, oh goddd.” Ilsa whined again, struggling to stand. 

She grabbed the hallway cabinet to her left for leverage, her muscular thighs rippling as she focused on the sensations of your blessed mouth tracing patterns over her hyper-sensitive clit. You pressed your face deeper into her, spelling out sentences with your tongue, letter by letter, suckling in between the messages. ‘Lover’, ‘Sexy’, ‘Needy baby’. Whatever you could think of, whatever her whines and moans stirred in you, that was what you wrote.

“Oh.. Oh.. Oh, oh oh!” Ilsa panted, the motions of her hips growing desperate.

You knew better than to stop, so you doubled down, drawing your tongue in steady circles, even as your jaws ached, as your head buzzed, as your neck screamed. Both of her hands flew to your head, shoving you into her. You moaned as she tugged on your scalp again, and that is what sent her over the edge. Ilsa’s back bowed, her thighs tensed, and she threw her head back in a silent scream, followed by intermittent pants. She held on for as long as she could, but her legs were too wobbly to safely remain standing.

“Coming down.” Ilsa warned, sliding down the wall and into your arms.

She was panting and flushed, you were panting and massaging your jaw which ached like a bitch. Ilsa took several moments to just commit the image to memory. 

“Turn around.” Ilsa rasped.

You sat down on your back, giving your sore knees a break. You’d have tender bruises there soon, visible or otherwise. Awkwardly shuffling around, you managed to slump into her back, to which Ilsa let out a sound that almost sounded like a purr.

“Hike your legs over mine.” Ilsa cooed.

You flushed, placing your knees on either side of her bent ones. Her lips returned to your neck, her hands sliding up and down your front. One of her hands found a breast, gently toying with one of your nipples again. 

“Ilsa…”

“Shhh, princess. Let me make you feel good too. You deserve it after loving me so spectacularly.” Ilsa murmured, pressing slow kisses to your jaw.

Her other hand travelled lower, parting your glistening labia. Two fingers held your labia taught, the middle finger drawing slow circles over your clit, a gentle stimulation. 

“... Oh.. Ohhh.” you hummed.

It felt better than when you touched yourself. She wasn’t doing anything unusual or otherwise groundbreaking, but it felt so good when it was her hand. Ilsa smiled against your neck, gently kissing over your neck. Her lips attached themselves right above that flickering pulse of your artery, sucking, leaving her mark. You shut your eyes, letting her just work you over.

“Moan for me, let me hear how good it feels.” Ilsa whispered, kissing your ear.

The spot on your neck where she’d sucked an angry hickey throbbed, electrifying the other senses her hands were creating on your body. You let out a tentative moan as she sped her fingers up just a little.

“Can you talk to me?” you whispered.

Ilsa chuckled, nibbling your ear.

“Of course I can, princess. I’ll tell you all about how wet you are for me, hmm? And how good you’re doing, sitting so pretty with your knees in place…”

You whimpered again, and you were rewarded with a bit more pressure from her finger.

“Oh, good girl. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Having your body loved like this?”

A head lean into her and another needy moan was enough assurance that Ilsa was doing what she needed to do. 

“Mhm, just like that, are you feeling yourself getting close?”

A shuddering breath and a soft head nod was enough for Ilsa. She gently sped up her fingers, drawing harder circles over your clit until your thighs trembled and your hips bucked.

“Ilsa!” you moaned, arching your back against her hand.

Ilsa cooed softly, continuing to roll her fingers at that steady pace until your hips relaxed, and her hand with it. Her arms wrapped around your sides, and she kissed you up and down your face, your jaw. She smiled, cuddling you to her. In the dark light of the hallway, Ilsa looked up, noting the little red dot that flashed. Once was enough for now. She could replay this on her laptop as many times as she wanted to now, she could see the angle of your body from the front as you bucked into her arms. She’d recorded this, after all. And she’d save it for as long as she needed to. 

This was just the beginning.

Tags (For previous askers and people who might want this): @lakita-fisher, @ilovehotactresses, @gay-and-sad-tm, @needyformilfs

[ofstoriesandstardust]

but it's golden like daylight (k.c.)

a/n: kylie wrote fluff who is she?! this was my short and sweet treat to myself for grad school curb-stomping me. you don't need to read the can't take the home out of oklahoma series for this but it does pick up almost immediately after the fourth part. as always, comments and reblog fuel me :)

summary: You and Kate start the rest of your lives together.

warnings: swearing, engagement, buying a house, alcohol mentions

word count: 3k

You hum as Kate hands you your cup of coffee over the console before she turns the key in her truck. The sun is barely rising, your tour of the house scheduled for early morning. 

Kate hadn’t let you see the listing, suddenly apprehensive that you wouldn’t like the place and kept insisting that she wanted you to see her vision once you toured the physical space. 

The house is a short twelve minute drive from Cathy’s farm, eight in the opposite direction from Tyler’s small place. The country music is turned low as you sip the coffee, Kate’s hand on your thigh. “I’m excited.” You say softly and Kate chances a glance at you as she flicks her blinker on. 

She’s really pretty like this, in the early morning dawn, hair still slightly sleep-mussed, but eyes eager and bright. “I hope you like it.” She says softly as she turns down a gravel road. 

“I’m sure I will.”

The real estate agent for the sellers meets you at the front porch, an older lady with a warm demeanor, touring you through the space. 

From first glance, you could see how one could write this house off. The house, six bedrooms and three baths, sits on a 3,600 square foot lot that is mostly run down. The exterior of the house seems to be newer but instantly from stepping inside you can tell that the house is outdated. The carpet is dingy, the appliances old, bathrooms dark and dreary. Every bedroom wall is a different color with the same dreadful carpet, but every step takes you farther into what you can already sense Kate’s vision is. 

It’s the perfect off-season fixer-upper. 

The living room is vast, wide-open. The kitchen is spacey and you can already see your friends gathered around the kitchen island. The master bath desperately needs retiling and new wallpaper, but it’s huge and the master bedroom has two large doors that lead straight out into the backyard. The house all-around has massive windows, perfect to let in all the light. The lot behind the house is overgrown with weeds but nothing Cathy couldn’t help you with and you can already see a chicken coop and a stable Tyler could help you build and a place to keep cows and horses, your inner country gal really coming to life. 

At the end of the tour, the real estate agent lets you know that the owners, a daughter who inherited this place and her husband who currently live in Indiana, are willing to negotiate and she’ll sit out front for you guys to have time to talk it over, though she assures you both that you don’t have to make a decision today.

“So?” Kate asks, a hopeful look in her eyes as you turn around in the master bedroom downstairs, eyeing the space. 

“It’s definitely a fixer-upper.” Kate looks a little nervous as you grin at her. “But it could be our fixer-upper.” 

“Yeah?” She breathes out, a grin growing on her face. You nod. 

“Oh yeah, I think Boone will have a blast ripping the tiling up in the bathroom and I am dying to go pick out paint samples. It’s like our perfect little off-season project. Your Mom could help us build a chicken coop and I already know where Peaches will curl up to take her naps in the sun.” 

She steps closer, taking your hands. “We’re so redoing the backsplash in the kitchen.” 

“Oh fuck yeah.” You mutter, before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Talk sexy to me baby, I love it when you tell me about house renovations.” 

She lets out a loud laugh, hands finding your waist as she loops her fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. “I’m already thinking of the washer and dryer set we can go buy.” 

You snort. “We’re so adult. Like, the best adults. Like I can’t believe I’m excited to go shop for a stove.” 

“You wanna put our offer in today?” She asks softly after a minute. 

“Let’s buy a house baby.” 

-

You and Kate come home with a box of pastries and two smiles even a tornado couldn’t take from you. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Javi asks around a bite of eggs and Kate shakes the box of pastries at him.

“You are a saint.” Boone praises as he lifts the lid of the box open, already reaching for the bear claw. You snicker as he bites into it, not missing Cathy’s look from over her coffee mug. Truthfully, the pastries had been as much of a treat for you and Kate for putting in an offer as it had been a distraction from your absence for your friends. You and Kate had agreed to not say anything about the house until you had your keys in hand, afraid to jinx it or disappoint them.

That hadn’t stopped Cathy though, who finds the two of you on the second floor of the barn, tucked away as the two of you chat, making an extensive list of what you’ll need to get and what’s highest priority in remodeling the place. 

So much for not getting your hopes up.  

“It’s too damn hot for the two of you to be hiding out up here.” Cathy calls as she pulls herself up the last step. “So I’m going to take it that it either went really well or really bad.” Neither you nor Kate can hide your smiles, which only makes Cathy smile as she tugs a stool over. “Really well then?”

“I mean-” Kate cuts herself off, glancing at you. “It’s a total fixer-upper. The place doesn’t even have a stove. Or a microwave.” 

“But you like it?” Cathy asks, directing her look to you now. 

You nod. “I already have paint ideas. Do you want to come to Lowe’s with us?” 

Kate snorts, shaking her head. 

For as much as Cathy was Kate’s Mom, Cathy had also become your maternal figure, treating you as such long before you and Kate had started dating and she had been treating you as her daughter-in-law long before you and Kate ever got as serious as you were now. 

It wasn’t something you took for granted and not something you wouldn’t ever treasure, loving just how much of a role Cathy played in your lives like this. Which meant she was the perfect one to help you pick out flooring and paint and appliances for a new place, already knowing what you and Kate would both love and could afford. 

You pull your phone out, quietly explaining the vision for the home as you show her the pictures, Cathy listening thoughtfully. 

“What do you think Mom?” Kate asks quietly, eager for her Mom’s approval. 

She sighs. “I think the two of you better get real comfortable spending a lot of money.” 

“But?”

“But I can’t wait to see how this all turns out. You said there was space for a chicken coop?” 

-

In the end, you and Kate close on the house, keys in hand, two days after the Wranglers, Javi included, leave to spend two weeks in Arkansas. 

The owners had been willing to negotiate to an even five hundred thousand and between you and Kate’s savings and a loan, you and Kate had begun signing papers just three days after putting in the first offer. 

While you and Kate are both disappointed the Wranglers aren’t there to celebrate, you and Kate take Cathy by the house with a cheap bottle of champagne and solo cups you’d picked up from the store on the way over. You sipped warm bubbly as you took her through the house, Cathy watching with fond amusement as you and Kate talked over one another in excitement of what you’d do to the place. 

And then you guys get to work. 

Kate changes the locks on the door the next morning, the two of you spending far too long at the key copier at the hardware store, picking out special designs for each of your friends. 

The three of you drive out to what Cathy deems the good Lowe’s out in Tulsa and probably become the salesman, Rob’s, favorite customer of the year as you list out the new appliances you need. 

The husband of one of Cathy’s long-term co-workers at the hospital where she works as a nurse offers to install all of them for free in exchange for a night of Cathy’s barbecue, an exchange she makes happily with the assurance the two of you would help her. You set out with setting up the electricity and gas (and the wi-fi, Kate reminds you late one night after shooting up in bed in a panic, four days after you begin), calling all the appropriate places and scheduling installation visits. You and Kate make more trips to pick out paint than either of you care to admit, testing out different shades of greens and purples and blues. 

As exciting and fast-moving it is, it’s not easy either. Kate comments, a bit sadly, one night as the two of you sit on your kitchen floor with Chinese takeout that she wishes Addy had been here, because she loved to paint and would’ve done the most gorgeous artwork on the walls of the house. She says another night, atop your staircase, that she wishes Jeb could see how far she’s come. She mentions in the Lowe’s that Praveen would’ve probably been the best to take appliance shopping, since he would’ve just known what worked well in the space. 

It’s a sad bit of melancholy, a wound you can’t fix. You can’t bring her friends back and it’s all you can do to love Kate through it. Her grief is real, never-ending, no matter how much she grows with it. 

Before you know it, the two weeks (not even, Kate reminds you as she stocks the fridge) have flown by and the Wranglers are rolling down the dirt road, you and Kate awaiting them out in your front yard.

They’re only in town for three days this time, before Tyler flys back to Arkansas for a month and a half. Dexter is flying down to see his niece, one of his last pieces of family, for a few weeks in New Orleans and Javi and Boone would be in Miami for three and a half weeks to see Javi’s family. 

Dani and Lilly are all yours for the next month though before the four of you regroup with the rest of the crew in Arkansas for two weeks and it’s taken everything in you and Kate to not spill the news to them early, already eagerly awaiting their help and hands. 

“Okay, you two. What is this place?” Javi asks as he shuts the door to the van. Kate grins at him as he sticks his hands in his pockets, the rest of the Wranglers climbing out after him. 

Kate jerks her head back towards the house, letting them inside as they take the space in. The downstairs isn’t in too horrible of a state or chaos, save for the many boxes scattered throughout the place, and the two of you even have a vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen island. The upstairs… that’s a different story. 

“Kate…” Tyler trails off, eyebrows raised. 

“We bought a house.” You say finally and the group lights up. There’s various exclamations, all excited as they congratulate you and Kate. “Six bedrooms, three baths, and in need of serious work. I have specifically picked out keys for everyone and uh, Booney baby, you up for helping us pull the tile and carpet up?” 

“Oh fuck yeah!”

-

“A house, huh? All you need is a ring on that finger and you’re all set.” Dani teases you that night as the two of you drive back to Cathy’s with pizza for the whole crew. 

You take a deep breath as you climb out of the car after it rolls to a stop, crowding Dani by the drivers door. “Can you keep a secret?” Dani nods a bit, frowning as you thumb through your phone, knowing specifically what it is you’re looking for. You flip the phone around, showing her the snapshot and her eyes go wide. “Cathy helped me pick it out.”

“No fucking way.” She whispers. “You have a fucking ring?!” 

“Are y’all coming in with that pizza or what, man? I’m starved!” Boone shouts from the front porch. 

“Come get it yourself Boone!” You shout back and you can hear the man move towards the car even if you don’t see him. Dani giggles a bit, shaking you. 

“I am so happy for you guys. Oh my God, now you’re really stuck with us California. No running away from this one.”

-

You end up proposing to Kate a week later.

You’re driven a ways out from Sapulpa, an open field before you as the wind whips Kate’s hair around. An end of summer lightning storm thunders off in the distance, electric purples lighting up the sky as you and Kate watch on, laying on top of the hood of your car. 

Well, you were watching at one point but now you can’t help but watch Kate, the way her face lights up in awe, the way she squeezes your hand and asks did you see that one? 

Kate Carter loves storms, would follow them anywhere. Kate Carter was her own type of storm, blindly beautiful and ever-changing, magnetic and wild. And you loved that storm, would follow that storm anywhere. 

“You keep looking at me like that.” Kate says, turning her face to meet your eyes. A bashful smile tugs at her lips, a bit lopsided, like it always does whenever she catches you staring. Usually you tell her you can’t help it, that you’re just in awe that you get to be with someone as pretty or as kind or as wonderful as her, but today, the words tumble past your lips. 

“Kate, I want to get married.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you- are you asking?” 

In lieu of answer, you slide off the hood, opening the passenger door to the back, digging around in the pocket on the back of the seat as Kate sits abruptly, curious eyes following you. You pull out a small box before climbing back onto the hood and Kate’s breath hitches as she catches sight of the velvet box. 

“I’m asking. Kate, I want to marry you more than anything else in this world. You gotta know, my love, there’s nowhere in this world I wouldn’t follow you.” 

“Yes, oh my- yes!” Kate exclaims, hands finding your face to pull you into a kiss. You narrowly dodge it, a laugh bubbling over. 

“But I didn’t ask yet!” You giggle, feeling a few raindrops splatter down on the top of your head. 

“Close enough.” She waves off, turning her attention to the box still clutched in your hand. You open the small box, slipping the ring on her left hand and she holds it out to examine as the rain picks up, her sweatshirt dampening. 

It’s gold, small and dainty, a small pearl set in the middle of a small cluster of diamonds but it slides on perfectly (thank you Cathy, you think silently). Kate wipes away tears (or rain, you aren’t sure) from her face as she looks down at it before glancing back up, hand resting on your knee. 

“I have a ring for you. It’s back at Mom’s. I hid it behind a bunch of fabric in that closet in the guest room.” She admits quietly. “I’ve- maybe I wasn’t always as sure about us, me, as you were but I love you just the same.”

-

Kate gets three minutes back in the house, darting up the stairs to dig out her own ring, sliding it on your finger with a chaste kiss, before she darts back down the stairs to show her Mom. 

Cathy cries, Lilly screams, Dani does a little dance, and the joyous feeling that burns bright in your chest threatens to never leave, not that you’d want it to. 

You spend a lot of time the next morning looking at it, the small diamond set in a row into the small golden band, twisting it this way and that way, admiring the way it looks on your hand, intertwined with Kate’s own hand. 

You and Kate elect to wait until you get to Arkansas in a few weeks to tell the boys, knowing this is something Tyler and Javi should learn in person. And then Dani suggests through laughter that you don’t mention it, seeing how long it takes for them to notice. You and Kate both laugh, the four of you setting a bet. 

Nine days. It takes nine days of the fifteen day trip for any of the boys to notice. 

You had gone from amused, to concerned, to amused again the longer it took and Kate was starting to threaten to just drive away, shouting the news out at them as she did. 

“What is that?” Boone asks abruptly, grabbing your hand as you pass Dani the pepper. Your ring glints in the orange glow of the setting sun, filtering in through Tyler’s kitchen. “What is that?”

“Oh man.” Kate says through a snort, her own left hand reaching up to cover her mouth. 

“What is that?” Boone demands, attention now sliding over to Kate. Javi and Tyler have both paused, Javi licking his lips as they stare Kate down. Dani lets out a loud laugh, turning to hide her face in Lilly’s shoulder as you give them a soft smile. 

“Kate- is that-” Javi starts. 

“Are you-” Tyler asks, before looking to you. “Are you really?” 

“Who asked first?” Boone demands, already tugging your hand closer to examine the ring. 

“I did.” You admit as Javi’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Kate, you’ve only been sitting on that thing for seven months! She still beat you to it?” 

“Seven months?” You ask, eyes wide as you turn to Kate. 

“Hey man, when you know you know.” Boone says and your eyes flash over to Lilly and Dani, who are still giggling to themselves. You hear Tyler and Javi’s quiet congratulations, Tyler and Javi both standing up to give you hugs but all you can do is lock eyes with Lilly as she laughs, tears streaming down her face.

“I can’t believe it took you idiots so long to notice!” 

[oosleepyfaeoo]

How could you be so blind? - Part II

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Blind!Reader

Summary: Aemond sees you as the most beautiful woman in the world but you can't see that. (sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: angst, reader is a female, slow burn, eventual smut

Words: 2k

A/n: English is not my first language. Also, I'm freaking happy like the first part!! Thank you so much for the reblogs and kind comments.

Part one / Part three

“The First Men.” Aemond's voice sounds through the large kitchen. “What is this?” He asks as he pulls his shirt on. 

Alys turns to him with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Oh... I bought you that yesterday. I was out shopping and saw that book.” She says while resting her head on his shoulder, taking a sip of her hot coffee. “Thought that you might like it.” 

Aemond frowns, pondering how she knew that he like historical books. He never shared his interest with her since they weren’t exactly a thing, just fuck buddies. 

“Thanks.” He hums as he goes put away the book to read later. 

Alys wraps her long arms around his waist, resting her head on his back. “I was thinking. Maybe I could go with you to your company party this weekend.” She says with excitement. “You know that your mom will freak out if you go without a date.” 

Aemond pushes her away, scowling down at her. “I already have someone in mind. Sorry.” He walks towards his bedroom, wanting to get ready for his busy day. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to go get ready. I’m gonna have lunch with Helaena.”  

Alys huffs and grabs her purse. “Whatever.” She says as she slams the front door, making Aemond roll his eye.  

Grabbing his phone, he writes a sweet good morning text to you and then hops to his shower. 

//// \\\\ 

“Is everything okay?” Helaena asks, frowning softly.  

Since Aemond arrived at the restaurant, he couldn’t stop checking his phone. Hoping to see a text from you.  

He puts his phone back in his pocket and nods. “Yes...” He takes a bit of his meal and sighs. “It’s just... Y/n hasn’t said a thing since yesterday and you know that we talk every day.”  

Helaena hums. “Yeah. You two are inseparable.”  

Aemond blushes a little at her words but was quick to hide it from Helaena. “Have you talked to her?”  

She shakes her. “No. The last time I was with her was yesterday. She needed my help to choose a book for you-Oh! By the way, did you like it?” She says excitedly, jumping a little on her sit. 

“Book?” Aemond tilts his head to the side, confused by her words but quickly disappears as he started connecting the dots. Thinking about the book that Alys said she “bought” for him. That she-devil! She lied to me! 

“Yeah! She wanted to give you a gift after you spoiled her so much.” Helaena giggles as she takes a sip of her water. “Actually, she said she was gonna pass by your penthouse this morning to give it to you before her classes.”   

Swearing under his breath, Aemond stood up quickly. Throwing enough money to pay for both their food. “I’m sorry Helaena! I need to go.” He says as he walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a confused Helaena. 

//// \\\\ 

“Are you sure that she hasn’t been here?” Aemond asks one of your classmates.  

After leaving Helaena at the restaurant, he got in his car and drove as quickly as he could to your university. How could he be so stupid?! During the year he knows you, he never felt so happy in his life. You never judged or used him for his wealth or fame. You simply like him for who he is. Something that it's hard for him to find in someone. 

The feelings he had for you were confusing. He never felt this way towards someone, not even towards Alys and he knows her for years. Aemond never was good at talking about his feelings, especially to the person that he might think he was in love with.  

So he buried and tried to use Alys as a distraction which didn’t work since whenever he was in bed with her, he always imagine you lying underneath him, a whimpering and moaning mess, instead of Alys. One time, he almost moaned your name instead of hers.  

Helaena and Aegon always joked about him and you make a cute couple, well Aegon’s jokes weren’t very pleasant but that was something Aemond was used to.  

Aemond always rolled his eye whenever they start talking about you and him, knowing fully well that someone as beautiful and cheerful as you would never end up with a person like him. 

“Huh...yes. She didn’t come to the classes today.” Your classmate says, afraid to anger him even more. “Look, maybe go to her apartment. She might be there.” 

Aemond sighs and nods thanks, walking towards his car. 

//// \\\\ 

A loud yawn escaped from your lips as you rub the sleep away from your eyes. “Alexa, what time it is?”  

“It’s currently 16 am.”  

You hum, sitting up on your bed and grabbing your walking stick and your phone. “Didn’t mean to sleep that long.” You sigh as you walk towards your small kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.  

The morning events are still live in your head. Tears still prickle the corners of your eyes but don’t fall down. You can’t be mad at Aemond. He didn’t do anything wrong since you both aren’t together but still hurts. 

Grabbing your phone, you unmute it and order Alexa to read the messages that you might have. Alexa starts reading the messages, some from your mom asking you when you come home to visit them. Then there was a message from your professor and some classmates. 

Just as you thought it was the last one, Alexa reads a message that made your heart drop.  

“Message from Aem <3 – Good morning, Darling. Hope you had wonderful dreams. See you soon.” 

Your bottom lip trembles as tears tried to break free from your eyes. You took a deep breath and close your eyes, thinking you will not cry again.  

Taking a sit on your comfy sofa, you grab your phone and start looking for a dog trainer. You have been blind since you were little and you were trained to use a cane to see but you always wanted to have a guide dog.  

Your parents couldn’t afford it at the time so you stayed with your walking stick. But now you can get a guide dog, you have been saving money for years and finally have enough money for it.  

Alexa read all the advertisements from several trainers and breeders but a certain one got your attention.  

A breeder of wolfdogs. They breed and train them for a fair price, still very expensive but you had enough for it. You start making a search for this breed, studying carefully so you can be prepared.  

You hum happily when Alexa says that they are extremely large and very protective of their owners, making them a perfect loyal dog. You will feel safer now walking around in the streets.  

Dialing the number from the breeder, you mark an appointment for this weekend.  

Your smile dies a little when you heard a knock at your door. Standing up, walking slowly towards it. “Who is it?”  

The voice that responds to you made your heart beat rapidly. “It’s me... Aemond.”  

There’s a long silence. You stood frozen by the door, afraid to open it.  

“C-Can I come in?” His voice was small and vulnerable.  

You quickly open it and put a fake smile on your lips, trying to act as normal as you can. “Of course! Sorry, I just woke up from a nap so I'm still half asleep.” You say with a chuckle, letting him enter and closing the door. 

You heard him take a sit on the sofa as you go make some tea for both of you.  

“You didn’t go to your classes today.” He says as you give him his cup. 

Sitting beside him, you take a sip of your tea and nod. “Y-Yeah... I was feeling a lil sick.”  

You both stood there in awkward silence. Not knowing what to say. You couldn’t see the guilt on Aemond’s face but you could feel it through his body language. The way he couldn’t stop shaking his leg or how his fingers were tapping loudly on his cup. 

“Y/n... Sorry about-” 

“Did you get the book? I hope you like it!” You cut him off. You know that you should let him explain but right now, you can’t hear the truth. That he’s with a supermodel. 

“Huh... Oh, yes. Thank you for the book. It was very kind of you, Darling.” That nickname always makes you a blushing mess but now you try to ignore it which, unfortunately, Aemond notices. 

“Look, Y/n.” He starts. His hands were sweaty from the anxiety that he was feeling right now. “About this morning-” 

Again, you cut him off. “Oh yes! I met your girlfriend.” You force a smile, trying to pretend that you are happy for him. “She seems really... charming. She’s very lucky to have you.”   

Aemond sighs and rubs his hand on his face. Not knowing what to say to you. Of course, Alys isn’t his girlfriend but at the same time, he doesn’t want you to know that he has a fuck buddy. Afraid of what would you think of him if you knew the truth. 

Grabbing your hand softly, noticing how you jump a little at the contact. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”He starts, rubbing softly his thumb on your smooth skin. “This weekend my family company will have a party. I want you to be my date.” He states confidently. 

You know about the party since Helaena told you. And about the dress. Tilting your head to the side, confused by his invite.  

“What about your girlfriend?” You asked. 

He cups your jaw softly in his hand, his thumb dangerously near your lower lip. “Y/n she’s n-” 

“I’m busy this weekend!” You blur out. “I have an appointment with a trainer.”  

Aemond frowns. “A trainer?”  

You nod, turning your head away from his warm touch. “Yes! I finally saved enough money to get a guide dog.”  

“Darling... You know that I could have helped you with that.” He sighs softly. 

You huff and cross your arms in front of your chest. “Aemond I know very well that your help would be a dog fully trained at my door the next day.” You hear him chuckle which made you smile a little. “You know very well that I like to pay for my own things.” 

“Stubborn as ever.” He says with a warm smile. 

You two sat there in silence. Still feeling a strange mood between you two. Grabbing the 2 cups of tea, you stood up and walk to your kitchen, putting the cups in the sink.  

“Well... I need to finish some important paperwork.”You say while fiddling with your fingers.  

Aemond stood up, gets the cue, and walks to you. “Very well, Darling... See you later.” He leans down and kisses your forehead gently. He then leaves you, closing your door softly. 

//// \\\\ 

The weekend arrives quicker than you thought. You and Aemond barely talk since the last time you saw him. He still sends you good morning texts or asks you how was your day, but it’s not the same as it was. 

As you walk out of the bus that you took to meet the trainer, two girls behind gossip about the Targaryen party.  

“Did you see Aemond’s date?” One said. 

“Alys Rivers?! Yeah, I saw it. They make such a sexy couple.” The other response with a high pitch squeak. 

“For real!! I didn’t know that they were dating.” You walk faster, not wanting to hear about Aemond and his girlfriend anymore. This is supposed to be the best day of your life. Finally get a guide dog that will help, protect you, and most importantly, he’s gonna be a companion.  

When you arrive, you ring the bell and wait a little. Feeling a little nervous about the interview. The door opens and a soft, sensual masculine voice sounded before you. 

“Hi! You must be Y/n.” The man takes your small hand on his larger one.

“I’m Cregan Stark. It's nice to meet you.” 

Ehehehe a new love interest? Aemond may have competition >.> Also I need help to choose a name for the new puppy. Feel free to share your ideas!

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @cryptid-l0ver @papichulo120627 @thewintergoddess @bellameshipper @sweet-sunflower64 @bbyaemond @zenka69 @immyowndefender @dc-marvel-girl96 @deltamoon666 @uniquecroissant @melsunshine @sugarrush-blush @pineapplechuncks @heirofdemetra @sarcasticsweetlara @malynn @yentroucnagol @puffycreamcakes @kravitzwhore @kyla44 @leef-leech @iloveallmyboys @aemondswifeisme @powellssaturn @judgementdayfan1 @mariamxdxd1212

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[middlingmay]

Recruiter!Gale x College Student!Bucky AU

Keep reading under the cut.

There were many things Gale was proud to do in the name of the US Airforce He would work with charities and could talk to vets all day long. He lent new recruits an ear when they struggle to settle in. He had flown headfirst and steady into warzones time and time again.

But he would not force anybody into the service.

He could never keep the distaste from curling his lip whenever someone at the base mentioned recruitment drives. And Gale didn't pull his rank for much; pulling teeth from him was easier. But he wielded it with zealous fervour whenever the PR and Recruitment Teams looked for someone to go to this high school or that college to boost numbers.

But then he'd become friends with young Ken Lemmons and before that he'd been born with a soft heart that betrayed him something fierce when Ken had come running to him in a desperate panic.

"She's leaving him, Gale. My mom's finally leaving him!"

Ken's mom had him young, and they were incredibly close in a way that made a highly unwanted jealousy curdle awful inside of him. But unfortunately, her judgement of character could be way off, according to Ken. The second he'd signed up and shipped out, some guy had come along and planted himself into Mama Lemmons' life and her house and refused to leave. Ken, Crosby and Rosie had been coming up with a plan to help her, but nothing had been working and Miss Lemmons had become more and more withdrawn.

One day, Gale had interrupted their solemn silence as they contemplated what to do, and said low and calm, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand and his hip cocked lazily against the counter, said, "I'll go get him, if you want."

Him. Not 'her'. Because of the four of them Gale knew best how removing the problem often meant removing the man.

Rosie had blinked. Crosby had paled. And Ken had looked wondrously fond and said, "Not quite yet, Sir."

But it seemed she had finally come to her senses.

"But she wants to go tonight. And it'll take me four hours to just get there, and her sister stays like another three hours away in Rockford, but I've got the start of the recruitment circuit tomorrow-"

By this point Ken was turning purple and Gale cut him off out of fear of him passing out.

"Calm down, Master Sergeant," he squeezed Ken's shoulder with a firm grip. "Now don't you worry. I'll get your leave approved."

"No Major," Ken flushed. "Colonel Huglin said it was fine so long as I found someone to step in."

"To step in for what?"

"The recruitment drive! We start the Wisconsin circuit tomorrow."

Gale suddenly felt like he'd been endeared into a trap.

"I thought it was going to be a bust but then Major Rosenthal suggested you!"

That ballsy son of a bitch.

"And I know it's a lot to ask, but it wouldn't be for the whole thing - just a couple of days while I get her settled and get the guy out of there."

Under the full force of Ken's baby face and the absolute trust he had that his Major and his friend would come through for him, Gale hadn't been able to do anything but hang his head, sigh, and curse this child to high heaven.

"Alright, Lemmons. I got you."

So there Gale stood, decked to the nines in his uniform, scowling at some pamphlets, and ignoring the smuggest Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal he had ever had the displeasure to be around.

"You're going to have to talk to me at some point, Cleven."

And damn you could tell Rosie had been a lawyer in a past life, the way he could goad you into talking.

"Why?" Gale snarked. "You've already been recruited."

Rosie rolled his eyes with such force he threw back his head. Put his whole body into it, in fact. "You're not hog-tying anyone and throwing them into a van, Gale."

Gale gave him a flat look he'd been told could level buildings and felt the 'yet' sitting on his tongue could go unsaid.

Rosie pointed a stack of pamphlets at him. "Stop it."

Gale just shook his head. "It's not like people don't know who the Airforce is, Rosie. Tryin' to get folks to enlist by sellin' them only the positives? It's dishonest."

Rosie got that glint in his eye Gale recognised from when the younger recruits pushed that inch too far and he'd started to consider violence.

"Or, it's a few days off base, and I know you need that."

Gale's face twisted.

"Ah-ah!" Rosie scolded him. "Don't you dare. You're becoming a workaholic hermit, Major Cleven. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't resort to subterfuge to derail those kinds of plans, huh?"

Gale just rolled his eyes and let the matter rest. He let Rosie do most of the talking anyway, but answered any question put to him fully and honestly.

By the time the afternoon had settled over them good and proper, it was getting hot. Gale took his hat off and swept his hair back where it fell over his eyes.

"-sus fucking Christ, Curt. Is he real?"

Gale swivelled at the voice behind him. Standing there, like a deer caught in the headlights, was a tall, athletic, freckled man. He wore a baseball tee, white with red sleeves, that showed off the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms. Gale idly wondered if that baseball tee was actually functional with a frame like that. His head was a tumble full of brown curls, with glints of auburn in the sun.

Next to him, where Gale barely managed to spare a glance, was a shorter, stocky fella with a gleeful grin and a little crook to his nose - Curt the other one had called him.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Gale asked and the curly-haired fella cursed under his breath, "Really?!" as Curt elbowed him in the ribs and said, "Yeah, I'd say he's real, Bucky."

Rosie wandered over. "You fellas interested in a career in the US Airforce?"

Bucky's demeanour changed as he shifted his attention from Gale to Rosie. It got shaper like his friend as he smirked.

"What'dya think, Curt? You want a career to repress the queer? The military's still unofficially Don't Ask Don't Tell, right?"

Gale didn't like that at all. Not about the boys under his command. He strapped on his Major-voice fit for public, the one that reminded people he knew what he was about quick sharp.

"It most certainly is not."

Bucky eyed him, head to toe, and narrowed his eyes considering. "And you'd know, huh?"

"Yes sir, I would."

And any troublemaking Bucky had been planning was woefully undermined by the fierce blush that blossomed across his freckled face when he heard Gale say yes sir.

Bucky took a few brave steps forward, urged on by a boot to the back of his knee by Curt. Standing before Gale, he noticed Bucky's eyes were dark blue, not brown like he'd though. Bucky put both his hands in his back pockets, stretching the thin material of his shirt across the wide expanse of his chest.

But Gale was military. Gale had iron clad self control. He'd trained for this. He would not look down.

"So, uh," Bucky bit his lip and looked down and rocked on his heels and it was not cute. "If I signed up, would that make you my superior officer?"

Gale heard a thud from Rosie's direction.

"It would."

"And I'd have to report to ya and call you sir and what not?"

"This is not happening."

"Shh!"

"You-you don't shush a Major in the US Airforce!"

Gale ignored the bickering going on behind him, and fought the smile Bucky was nearly bringing out in him. "You would."

And he should shut this down. He should. He was workin' for God's sake. But.

"And as, uh, tempting as that is," he said to Bucky, dropping his voice lower that it already was, "I think you'd look much better in a baseballer's uniform than a military one."

Bucky's eyes sparked up in delight and Rosie took that moment to thwack Gale with his own hat.

"Major Cleven," he said, thrusting the hat into Gale's hands. "These young ladies from the Engineering School have some questions about the Ground Crew. Care to enlighten them?"

Gale dutifully donned his hat. "Sure thing, Major Rosenthal." He turned to Bucky and touched his cap. "Y'all have a nice day, now." And if he put some extra drawl in there to see if it would fluster Bucky, that was his business.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly after that, and by six pm they were loading up the jeep and preparing to head out to their digs for the evening.

When the last box was secure and the rear door shut, Gale turned around to check they hadn't left anything behind, when he saw a familiar face a few feet away.

Lord don't ask him how, but he managed to keep his smile small and in no way indicative of the hot, thrilling jolt the sight sent down his belly.

"You change your mind after all?" he asked Bucky.

Bucky laughed and sauntered over to Gale and Christ did that man have dimples.

"Nah," he grinned. "I just, uh, saw you packing up and thought I'd say hey."

Then Rosie began his muttering. "Seriously? The guys I've tried to set you up with and this?"

"Well, hey," Gale murmured.

Bucky stepped right on up, his confidence incongruous with the damn near bashfulness on his face. "Hey."

"One was a partner in a lawfirm-"

And a conservative jackass.

"Then there was the chef-"

Who thought the secret to good cuisine was goddamn eggplant. In everything.

"And the teacher! But this? This is what gets you going?!"

"Alright, you got me," Bucky said. "I, uh, came to see if you were doing anything tonight?"

Gale's tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Bucky's eyes locked on it like a target. "Am I?"

"Are you flirting?!"

And Bucky got mischief in his eyes and his hands got brave and came to curl over the lapels of Gale's coat. Strong and dextrous fingers skimmed down the sharp lines of his uniform, down to the catch of his button, and playfully toyed and traced the smooth metal stud.

When Bucky spoke, Gale fancied he could nearly feel the vibration against his mouth. "I have spent a frankly pathetic portion of the afternoon coming up with a lot of...creative ideas of what you could be doing. If you're open to 'em."

Gale slowly and deliberately plucked the keys of the jeep from his pocket and watched Bucky perk up as they jangled. Like a dog knowin' a treat was coming.

"Major Rosenthal-"

"Don't you dare, Cleven."

Gale didn't take his eyes off Bucky. "You better call a cab, Rosie."

Bucky's smile was satisfied and wolfish, and when Gale jerked his head towards the jeep, John bounded over to the passenger door, leaving Rosie stunned and gaping in his wake.

"There are no civilians in military vehicles, Gale!"

Gale shrugged and turned towards the driver's door. "Gonna report me, Rosie?"

Rosie swore up a storm and called after Gale as he got in the jeep and started the engine.

"I damn would!" he yelled as the jeep peeled away. "If I knew the write up for abandoning your fellow officer for some dick!"

[galaxysupreme17]

Lazy Sunday Morning

Y/n = Your Name

Y/n/n = Your Nickname

Agathario x daughter!reader

The sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains of their cozy Westview home, casting a warm glow on the wooden floors. It was one of those perfect, quiet mornings when the world outside seemed to slow down, offering a rare sense of peace. No missions, no magical crises-just the three of them: Y/n, Rio, and Agatha. They had lived here in Westview for years now, embracing a life of simplicity, even as witches. Today was special, though. It was a day without obligations, a day where they didn't have to be anything other than a family.

Y/n lay sprawled across the couch, cocooned in a plush blanket. The house was still. The faint sound of Rio humming drifted from the kitchen, where she was already preparing coffee. But Y/n wasn't quite ready to face the day. She sighed contentedly, burying her face deeper into the blanket, savoring the rare feeling of being able to stay in bed-or on the couch, in her case.

In the kitchen, the familiar sounds of pots and pans clinking together mingled with the smell of brewing coffee. Agatha was up now, too, and Y/n could hear her soft voice carrying through the house, lightly bickering with Rio over breakfast preparations. It was their Sunday tradition-a lazy morning where they made breakfast together, sat around in pajamas, and enjoyed the calmness that only a day off could bring.

"Mi amor, don't use too much butter," Y/n heard Rio's voice tease from the kitchen.

Agatha scoffed in mock offense. "Butter is the foundation of any good meal, hun. You can't just 'cut back' on butter. That's heresy."

Y/n smiled under her blanket but made no move to get up just yet. She could listen to her mother's playful banter all day. These moments were the kind that Y/n cherished more than anything else-the little things that made their house a home.

The aroma of breakfast finally lured her from her cozy cocoon. Groaning slightly, Y/n shuffled to the kitchen, still wrapped in her blanket, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. "Morning, Mama. Morning, Mom," she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning, sweetheart," Rio said with a soft smile, her hair still messy from sleep. She was leaning against the counter, coffee cup in hand. She always moved slower in the mornings, especially on days like this when they had nowhere to be.

Agatha, standing by the stove with her signature apron on, turned and smiled at Y/n. "Look who's finally joined the land of the living. Pancakes will be ready soon."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Homemade pancakes? Again?"

"Of course. It's tradition," Agatha said with a wink, expertly flipping a pancake.

Rio, with a mischievous grin, slipped a box of store-bought pastries onto the counter, trying to be subtle about it. "But, you know, it never hurts to have some backup options."

"Mom," Y/n laughed, shaking her head as she slid into a seat at the kitchen table, pulling her blanket tighter around her. "You're going to get in trouble with Mama."

"Too late," Agatha said, eyeing the pastries disapprovingly but with a hint of amusement. "You can't sneak that processed nonsense into my kitchen."

Rio just shrugged, unbothered. "Hey, I like variety."

Y/n grinned, feeling the warmth of home settle into her chest. It was always like this-Agatha sticking to tradition and Rio introducing her own brand of chaos. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Y/n had learned to appreciate both sides. She rested her chin in her hands, watching them with sleepy affection. "Honestly, I'm with Mama on this one. Homemade pancakes win every time."

Agatha beamed proudly as if she'd won some great culinary battle. "See? Our daughter has good taste."

"Alright, alright," Rio laughed, raising her hands in surrender. "I'll save the croissants for later."

Breakfast soon filled the table-piles of fluffy pancakes, fresh fruit, and yes, even the sneaky pastries Rio insisted on bringing out after all. Y/n, still wrapped in her blanket, dug in without hesitation. The first bite of pancakes melted in her mouth, reminding her of every Sunday morning they'd spent together like this.

"This," Y/n mumbled through a mouthful of food, "is perfect. A day of absolutely nothing."

Rio ruffled Y/n's hair as she passed behind her, grabbing a plate. "You've earned it. You've been working yourself too hard lately."

Agatha nodded in agreement. "Even witches need rest, darling. Besides, today's about us. No magic practice, no schoolwork. Just... family."

Y/n smiled softly at her mothers, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this relaxed. "I needed this," she admitted. "A break from... everything."

Agatha reached across the table, her hand resting on Y/n's arm. "We all do love."

After breakfast, they returned to the living room, and the remains of their meal were left on the table to clean up later. Y/n flopped onto the couch, pulling her blanket up to her chin and groaning dramatically. "I'm not moving for the rest of the day. You can't make me."

Rio chuckled and slid onto the couch beside her, tucking a strand of Y/n's hair behind her ear. "Who said we were doing anything today? I plan on being just as lazy as you."

Agatha, having settled into her favorite armchair, crossed her legs and smiled. "Shall we watch something, then? Maybe one of those 'modern classics' you two love so much?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "No black-and-white movies, please, Mama. Anything but that."

Rio laughed, picking up the remote. "Let's compromise-something light, something fun. How about a rom-com?"

Y/n grinned. "Perfect."

The day passed in a haze of cozy blankets, laughter, and movies. The three of them lounged around the living room, the warmth of the fireplace adding to the snug atmosphere. As the afternoon stretched on, Y/n found herself sandwiched between her moms on the couch, their soft breathing and gentle presence comforting her in a way that magic never could.

It was halfway through the second movie that Agatha leaned over and kissed Y/n on the temple. "You know we love you, right? You don't have to do anything to earn that."

Y/n glanced at her, surprised by the sudden seriousness in her voice. "I know, Mama. I love you both too."

Rio smiled from the other side, nudging Y/n's shoulder. "We're proud of you. Just for being you."

Y/n felt a lump rise in her throat but swallowed it down, feeling the warmth of their love settle into her. She snuggled deeper into her blanket, resting her head against Rio's shoulder, her eyes drooping. "This is... this is all I need," she mumbled sleepily.

And before long, they had all drifted off to sleep, the movie forgotten in the background. Y/n was sandwiched between the two women who had been her constant, family, and everything. In this house, in this small town, they weren't witches or powerful beings. They were just three people, content to be with one another.

As Y/n drifted in and out of sleep, she thought about how much they meant to her. How every little thing they did, even bickering over breakfast, made her feel safe. She smiled to herself, the last thought before falling into a deep sleep being one of pure contentment.

And with that, their peaceful Sunday carried on in the warm, quiet comfort of home.

[illarian-rambling]

Thank you everyone who participated in...

Illaros Illuminated: Mortal God Edition!

Below you will find Astra, Mashal, Ivander, Elsind, and Avymere answering the questions you all have so kindly sent in. Buckle up, as I'm sure it's going to be quite the ride ;)

Thanks again!

[The camera pans in on a smartly decorated studio where several people sit in comfortable seats and lounge on couches. Astra DuClaire, a human woman with vitiligo and a richly embroidered, circus-looking coat, whispers into the ear of Mashal Darezsho, a large bronze and steel robot wearing baggy clothes and looking anxiously at the camera. Ivander Montane, a blue-skinned man in an expensive suit, sips distractedly on a cup of coffee. Elsind Cavernsight, a somewhat alarming creature with damp mauve skin and a featureless face ringed by five fleshy petals, does their best to keep up a professional posture. Avymere Spearsong, a pale, white-haired elf wearing glasses and a breathing mask, does the same in a far more effortless manner]

Interviewer: "Welcome back, folks, to our second installment of Illaros Illuminated! Today we have in the studio the... well, I wouldn't call them heroes, but they've certainly saved the world a lot of trouble. Everyone give a hand to the cast for Mortal God!"

Immediately, Ivander side-eyes Avymere and Elsind to a catastrophic degree, mouthing into the camera, "I don't know them." Right as he does, Elsind makes a face that conveys the exact same emotion.

Interviewer: "Right! So, our first question comes to us from @melpomene-grey. For the whole cast, but Elsind specifically: What are the top three happiest moments of your life?"

"Wait, me specifically? Why me specifically?" Elsind's headfins do an odd sort of ripple motion as they turn to Avymere. They whisper to the elf behind their hand, "Why me specifically?" "You have a fan, it seems," Avymere replies without missing a beat. They seem thoroughly nonplussed by the whole experience thus far. "Oh!" Elsind's headfins go purple as they blush. "Wow, okay, I think my top three happiest moments.... Uh...." Astra rubs her temple with a harrowed expression. "Ace, we've gotta get you into therapy or somethin'." "I'm getting there!" Elsind crosses their arms, thinking a moment longer. "Okay, my happiest moment was probably pulling off my first mission for the Salis Legion of the People. It was the first time where I really felt I belonged - like I was making a difference. Second happiest was.... Okay, this isn't really one single memory, but all the times my mom would read to me when I was little. I just felt so safe, and even though I already knew the world was dangerous, nothing could make it past my mom back then. My third happiest memory was when I finally got my hands on The Ravishing War: A Dance of Passion and Fire box set." Mashal's brow furrows. "A what of what and what?" "The fifth book was a little slow for my taste," Ivander adds, not glancing up from examining his nails. Avymere pats Elsind's hand as their headfins droop a bit. "Your mother sounds like a lovely woman." "She is." Elsind's face melts a bit in their version of a nostalgic smile. "Anways, fan favorite over here went, it's your turn now, Trauma Number Two." Astra points with her chin over at Ivander. "Start spittin'; what's your top three memories?" Ivander gives a bitter scowl. "Cheesy rice, righteous embezzlement, and about two seconds before the worst memory of my life." "Context?" Astra raises an eyebrow. "No." "Damn. Regardless," Astra continues with a wave of her hands, "my top three're buildin' the Extraordinaire, meetin' Mashal - 'pologies to the rest a' ya - and givin' that eikorodo to my folks so they could pay off their contracts. That last one is probably the thing I'm proudest of overall in my life." Mashal smiles and though metal can't blush, the feeling is there. Off to the side, Ivander rolls his eyes, though the gesture doesn't have its usual venom.

"I only remember, like.... Oh gods, like three months of things in general." Mashal winces. "But probably my favorite three memories are when Astra gave me a new face, when I learned there was a way to get my body back, and, uh...." "You can lie, love," Astra whispers under her breath. "And I don't remember," Mashal says loudly, only to cringe. "Fucking fit for the stage, I am.... Fine, fighting Vermir. That's one of my favorite memories. I'm not proud of how the violence made me feel so content, but there it is." "Naw, that bitch deserved it," Astra grunts. "Agreed." Ivander itches at his solar plexus with a bitter expression. "Seconded," Avymere echoes. As all eyes turn to them, they straighten their cravat with a huff. "Fine, I suppose I'll take my turn under the spotlight. My favorite memories are my father taking me to my first martial arts competition, preventing the assassination and usurpation of Queen Silverwind, and finally realizing that I was capable enough to truly begin assisting my father in the running of our city." Astra and Elsind exchange a fraught and somewhat guilty glance. "You have a good relationship with your father?" Ivander asks, his eyes keen with curiosity. Avymere nods. "He raised me alone. We were always very close." "Must be nice." Ivander huffs a bitter laugh, but says nothing more.

Interviewer: "Damn, you people can yap. Anyways, our next question comes to us from @mk-writes-stuff: What is a small thing you wish existed that would improve your life a lot?"

"Easy - some way to tune in to music constantly so I don't just gotta wait for whatever they've got playin' down at the Yewbury Concert Hall." Astra flicks her earring with its many audio runes. "Somethin' a little louder to listen in on would do nicely as well." Avymere raises an eyebrow. "Like a portable gramophone of some sort?" "Pre-fuckin'-cisely." Astra sighs longingly. "A little music in the wee hours a' the mornin', at a bit more of a danceable volume - is that too much to ask?" "Yes," Mashal deadpans. The tiredness in his glass-lens eyes is palpable. "I would rather enjoy a way to know someone's location exactly," Avymere says. "Yes, there are tracking runes, but those are bulky and hard to maintain. I suppose a more streamlined tracking rune is all I'm asking for. It'd save me so much hassle." "I don't think I know you well enough for that to be anything except worrying," Ivander mutters under his breath. "I'd want some way to sleep," Mashal pipes up. "Not that I don't enjoy brass band jazz at one in the morning, but I also just really want to take a nap. Even if my body can't get tired, my brain definitely can. I just want a way to, I don't know, power off for a little while. Actually power off - not get stuck without my senses in a little black box until I start hallucinating." "Ditto." Ivander stretches with a wince. "Some quality, uninterrupted sleep - that's all I want. One of those levitation runes would be nice, like the one you gave me on Laben, Astra." Astra raises an eyebrow. "I can make ya another one, you know that, right?" "Really?!" Astra gives him a thumbs up. "We'll chat after the show." "I'd want some kind of minor telekinesis." Elsind leans back on the couch, melting into a more comfortable position. "Tell me this; have you guys ever been curled up in bed with a good book, but then suddenly, you get really hungry? You don't wanna get up because it's cold and you're really comfy, so wouldn't it just be nice if you could float a snack over into your hand?" Ivander nods in appreciation. "That's a good one, I must say." "Or you could get up and get a snack." Avymere's mouth twists in confusion. "It's not that hard. You could ask a servant." "Gods a'mighty, bright, and beyond...." Astra sighs. Fiddling quite obviously with the head of his cane, Ivander smiles coldly at the elven noble. "We'll chat after the show."

Interviewer: "Next up, also from @mk-writes-stuff: Also for Elsind: I hope this isn’t super insensitive of me but I’m desperately curious, is it comfortable to just go full ooze in an empty bathtub and just kinda chill there?"

Elsind brushes back their headfins, blushing. "Wow, lots of attention for me today." "Why wouldn't you be the fan favorite, though," Mashal says, "you're fantastic." Elsind blushes even more. "Oh, stop. Okay, but to answer the question: Yes, actually! I prefer to sleep in, I don't know, bowl-shaped things? Is that... Yeah, we'll go with bowl-shaped. I don't know, it's just more comfortable than a flat surface to me since I go liquid when I sleep. Bathtubs are nice, so are hammocks. A bed is also fine, but a hammock is my top choice of sleeping spot. And no, I wouldn't say that's an insensitive question."

Ivander leans back in his seat. "I heard somewhere that changelings are amphibious - is that true?" "Able to breathe on land and underwater," Avymere whispers as Elsind looks to them for clarification.

"Oh, no, I'm not. Or, I suppose I haven't tried." Elsind's tail flicks pensively. "Maybe, I am? I can't swim either way, so, wouldn't that be a little useless? Being able to breathe underwater but not able to swim?" "I think we're gettin' a little in the weeds here," Astra says. "But pick a day, pick a lake, and we'll test it out."

Interviewer: "Formatting is hard. Anyways, coming in from @wyked-ao3: What's your least favorite food?"

Mashal sighs sadly. "It was cherry pastries." Astra gives his hand a sympathetic pat. "The ones ya bake are real nice, at least, even if ya can't taste 'em. You know what ya cook even better, though? Potato stew! That's my favorite food." "Really?" Avymere's tone is dubious. "That's like... thin mashed potatoes?" "Fuckin' rich kid...," Astra mutters under her breath, though her expression is more bemused than anything. "Naw, it's... Well, ain't not thin mashed potatoes, but it's got other stuff in it. Cheese, chives, lots a' bacon. Come inside after a long day in the fields and there ain't nothin' better to find waitin' on the table. Lemme guess, your favorite is caviar?" Avymere's ears flick in slight irritation. "It's lavender scones, thank you very much. With lemon zest on top. They were a bit of a comfort food when I was young." "Aww!" Elsind presses their hands to their chest. "I bet you were a cute kid." "More like deeply off-putting and willfully obstinant," Avymere corrects. "But back to the question - what about you?" Elsind pauses in a moment of consideration. "Oh gods, what was that fruit called? There was a parcel of them we found in this raid once - some lord's resort, if I remember. They had a green rind and were about the size of a person's head. Ugh, they tasted divine!" "Honeydew," Ivander pipes up. "You must've got a perfectly ripe one. They taste like mush if you're too far in either direction." "Oh, it's even got a tasty name!" Elsind's face melts a bit in happiness. "My favorite is jevee yoy," Ivander says, sounding bored. "It's a hobgoblin dish Ceyrel introduced me to. It hurts my stomach something awful, but the taste is worth it." Astra nods. "Respect. Taste is always worth it, damn the next morning. Lots a' hot sauce, I'm guessin'?" Ivander grins slyly. "You know it." "Wait!" Elsind shouts. "They asked for least favorite!" Everyone pauses for a second before Astra shrugs. "Ah, well, bit's already done."

Interviewer: "Next up, from @seastarblue, for Astra and Avymere: How does it feel to be the coolest ones here?"

"Oh, these people have no taste," Ivander huffs. "Ay, that's what I'm fuckin' talkin' about!" Astra pumps her fist. "It feels damn good is how it feels!" "I mean, cool is relative," Mashal murmurs. "Avymere and Astra are definitely cool, though." Elsind pokes Avymere on the side of the head. The elf looks distinctly embarrassed. "Okay, you've got that right." Mashal smiles softly as he flicks Astra on the shoulder.

Interviewer: "@seastarblue again: Okay actual question: what’s y’all’s biggest pet peeve?"

"Gossips," Astra deadpans, staring straight at Ivander. "Braggarts," Ivander answers without missing a beat. "Oh good gods, you two." Mashal shakes his head. "People who get snippy. How about that? That's my pet peeve." "Liar - your pet peeve is when I play my music too loud," Astra says. Mashal makes a face. "Hm, okay, that too. Just cause you're half deaf doesn't mean you have to ruin my hearing also." "Love, ya don't have eardrums." "It's the principle of it, okay?" "People who can't whisper," Avymere says unprompted. Ivander raises an eyebrow. "Pardon?" "People who can't whisper. That's my pet peeve," Avymere clarifies. "It's inconvenient." "Ah." Ivander nods. "Hard agree." Elsind huffs a sigh. "Mine's gotta be people who don't return the money they borrow. And then call you broke for asking them to pay you back. Like they weren't the ones borrowing money." "Another hard agree." Ivander grins.

Interviewer: "Here's a stunner from @leahnardo-da-veggie: For Ivander: How do you feel about Elsind & Avymere? (And vice versa)"

"Well, they both have very relatable pet peeves," Ivander says. "And I must say, Avymere, I do find your taste in attire to be rather exquisite." "You can thank me for that," Astra mutters under her breath. Avymere straightens, dusting off their jacket. "You seem to be a well-mannered man, Mr. Montane. I can't say I know you all that closely, however, that can be remedied." Ivander raises an eyebrow. "By conversation or surveillance?" Avymere shrugs. "Both is best." An evil grin creeps up Ivander's face. "I like your style." "Anyone who's made it to book five of The Ravishing War has my respect," Elsind pipes up. "Have you checked out the author's prequel series?" Ivander's eyes flash as he glances abruptly up. "No. I didn't know there was a prequel." "It's about Captain Minthandra's rise to power," Elsind explains excitedly. "I won't spoil anything more, but suffice to say, that subtext between her and Empress Imrain is very much text." "Now, that is worth a read." Ivander's smile grows hungry. "Avymere, you've gotta read it too, we can start a book club!" Elsind exclaims excitedly. Avymere makes a face. "Give me a smut to war politics ratio." "Oh, ninety to ten," Ivander chuckles. "And those ten are mostly discussed in bed." Avymere rolls their eyes as Elsind and Ivander giggle to themselves, both looking terribly pleased.

Interviewer: "Another from the wonderfully skilled question-asker @leahnardo-da-veggie: For Astra: If you hadn't gone into book magic, what would you have done? Can you even picture yourself in a non-magic field?"

Astra blinks with a start. "If... If I hadn't gone into book magic? Why in the hell would I have done that?" "It's a hypothetical," Mashal whispers. "Well, yeah." Astra huffs, a little flustered. "If I didn't have book magic, I reckon... I reckon I woulda gone into seamstress work. I'm a dab hand at embroidery and I enjoy the design aspect." "You're good enough that I hired you," Avymere agrees. "You, working in a hoity-toity boutique?" Ivander shakes his head with a laugh. "I can't see it. You'd spit on someone before the hour was out." "Heh, probably." Astra makes a face. "I don't think I'd get the same fulfillment as I get outta magic either. Sewin' is fun, but it ain't my passion, ya know?" "Well, it's a good thing you do have magic," Elsind says. "Otherwise, we'd all be screwed." "Yeah, I doubt I'd be doin' all that runnin' around and fightin' robots with a needle and thread," Astra laughs.

Interviewer: "From @kaylinalexanderbooks: What is everyone's most embarrassing moment with each other?"

A collective groan works its way through the five of them. "Probably that time you walked in on me crying into a pillow in the Devaris mansion." Avymere sighs heavily. "Sorry about that, Elsind..." Elsind's headfins curl, giving the impression of a raised eyebrow. "Avymere, I'm going to explain this to you one more time. Your leg was broken, you'd just gotten the time to process losing the person closest to you, and you were facing the prospect of going back to rule an entire nation literally days after all of this. Crying over that isn't embarrassing - it's eminently reasonable. Me asking you why you were carrying funeral incense with you, though... That was pretty embarrassing." Avymere chuckles softly. "It was a little oblivious of you." "Mine was probably freaking out over those bugs." Mashal tugs at his collar sheepishly. "Heh, yeah, you were doin' a whole dance tryin' to get 'em off n' everything," Astra teases. "It's not like they can bite you r' nothin'." "It's the principle of it," Mashal sniffs. "And, ugh, doesn't just watching how they move freak you out? All those legs..." "Wait, you're scared of bugs?" Ivander asks, both amused and incredulous. "Yes, they give me the shivers," Mashal answers gruffly. "All bugs or just, like, spiders and stuff?" "Anything with too many legs." Mashal crosses his arms with a huff. Ivander jots something down in his pocket journal. "Duly noted." "Mine's gotta be that time I stuck myself to a wall for 'bout ten hours." Astra chuckles with a proud look on her face. "Those gravitation runes were top a' the line, even if the auxiliaries were kinda busted." "I had to feed you soup with a straw because your hands were stuck," Mashal says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I barely got the reversal rune done in time for you to not piss your pants." Astra flicks him on the arm with a grin. "Fun times, right? Alright, Ivander, you've been awful quiet. Spill." The blue-skinned man sighs heavily. "Must I? Really?" "We swore to tell the truth before we went on," Avymere says. "I'm sure it can't be that bad," Mashal encourages. "Ugh, fine." Ivander crosses his arms. "I was fifteen. I wanted to get really ripped, you know?" Astra nods. "As fifteen-year-olds do." "So I asked my bodyguard for some workout tips, and he gave me a whole list of stuff, only half of it I understood. The first night of my 'fitness project,' I decided to start with sit-ups. Because I was a cocky shit, despite never having so much as run a mile or done a push-up in my life, I grabbed a heavy book to use as extra weight since I thought a regular sit-up would be too easy. That night, I stripped off my shirt, sat down, and promptly dropped the book on my chest hard enough to dislocate a rib." Astra stifles a laugh, while Elsind and Mashal wince in tandem. "My scream brought my uncle and about three maids running," Ivander continues, his face having gone a touch purple. "I had to explain what happened to the doctor. My poor bodyguard got fired and I never touched sit-ups again. Not to mention I overheard the youngest maid, who I always thought was sort of cute, talking to one of her friends about how my nipples are a particular shade of indigo." There's a pause before Astra asks, "Well, are they?" Ivander shoots her a dirty look, but doesn't refute the statement.

Interviewer: "Continuing with questions from @kaylinalexanderbooks: What is one topic that you could give an impromptu speech about for an hour?"

Astra snorts in amusement. "What couldn't I talk about for an hour? I could talk about a godsdamned history of orcish textiles for an hour!" Avymere raises an eyebrow. "Do you know anything about orcish textiles?" "No, I just like to lie," Astra replies. "Okay, but what would your actual speech be on?" Elsind asks. "Easy - necessary educational reforms the Skolan schoolin' system needs to make if they wanna have a functional workin' populace in the comin' decade. Next!" "I could definitely talk about workplace drama for an hour," Ivander admits. "Okay, probably longer. Saldana in accounting and Resha in corrections have been in the process of getting a divorce for two years now and I know way too many details." Avymere raises an eyebrow. "I think you'd enjoy some of my stories from the court of Salis. I could talk for an hour simply on what I've found in nobles' sock drawers." "Books, that's mine," Elsind adds. "I love giving people book recommendations. I swear I've got like a psychic feel for it!" Mashal rubs the back of his head. "I'm not sure if I could talk for an hour period. Maybe comparing styles of horse training? Or art? I could probably talk about art for an hour." "We can do a double-talk about the influence of runes on art!" Astra says excitedly. Ivander raises an eyebrow. "That's a thing?" "Oh, we chat about it all the time, it's really cool." Mashal grows more animated as he continues. "So, it kinda goes back to one of the founders of the Republic, Cardor Dular. He was this renowned book mage, but he was also close with another of the founding generals, Agita N'Jogu. Historically, the N'Jogu family had this tradition-"

Interviewer: "Okay, home stretch! Here's the first of three questions from @rumeysawrites: To Astra and Mashal: What made you realize you liked each other?"

Astra cocks her head. "But I've always liked 'im?" "Like, romantically," Masha whispers behind his hand. "When did we realize we liked the other romantically." "Oh! That makes more sense." Astra pulls Mashal close and kisses him on the cheek, causing his glowing eyes to jump in brightness. "Like a dumbass, I realized right when you admitted ya had feelins' for me. I reckon... I reckon I probably loved ya for a while before that, but I'd never been in a serious relationship before - hell, I ain't even had that many friends - so I didn't recognize the feelin' til you put a name to it." Though it's physically impossible, as they lack anatomy, the impression of hearts in Elsind's eyes is undeniable as they smile proudly. "I, well, I think I realized I liked you all the way back in Salis," Mashal admits. "Something about the way you smiled, the way you'd swooped in to rescue me when I'd been working to rescue you, just made my heart feel warm for once." Avymere raises an eyebrow. "Back in Salis when I was actively trying to kill you?" Mashal nods, a dreamy expression on his face. "Yeah.... Anyways, I have to give Elsind some credit for being the one to actually talk me into admitting my feelings. Insecurity's a bitch, especially when your body has been quite literally stolen away and replaced with a solid ton of unfeeling steel." Elsind bows lightly. "I am but a humble romance enthusiast. All I did was give a pep talk and set up some flowers." Ivander shakes his head in wonder. "Damn, now that's something I wish I could've seen. I always thought you two would make a good couple, you know?" "I thought you were both gay, if I'm being honest," Avymere admits. "Bit of a shock, really...." "I mean, back in the army-" Mashal abruptly cuts off. "Nevermind, actually." "I kinda thought I might be too, but naw, I'm just slow to romance and my one other stint happened to be with a lady," Astra says. Avymere sighs in relief. "Oh, that makes so much more sense."

Interviewer: "Okay, here's our second from @rumeysawrites: For Elsind: What's the most negative thing you've ever said about someone?"

"I tried to murder Avymere's father." Elsind stares directly into the camera. "I was a soldier in an organization accused of terrorism and violent uprising. I kidnapped people and stole their identities on multiple occasions." "Answer the question, ace," Astra prompts with a grin. "The backwards spawn of a goat's rotting cunt!" Elsind exclaims. "Just because I try to be positive and kind to everyone doesn't mean I don't know swear words!" Ivander lets out a low whistle and jots another note in his journal. Avymere blinks in surprise. "Whoever warranted that?" "It's okay to let your anger out sometimes," Mashal reassures. "I'm sure whoever it was deserved it." "Parking cop," Elsind mutters. "The cart I was using to transport other rebels into Salis got ticketed while I was out for five minutes. It'd been... a long day." Astra chuckles under her breath. "I knew ya had it in you."

Interviewer: "And lastly, from @rumeysawrites: What is everyone's most fun memory with the others?"

"I don't know if I've ever had fun with any of you," Ivander says without missing a beat. "Oh, come on, camping on Laben was kinda fun." Astra grins as she pokes him lightly on the shoulder. "I mean, it was creepy as shit, but I got to watch you eat pocket jerky for the first time." "Okay, fine, playing cards while Mashal was out was entertaining," Ivander admits. "Astra, I'll never forget going to a concert hall for the first time with you," Mashal says with a smile. "Music is so much bigger in person." Elsind and Avymere exchange a glance. "Okay, hear me out-" Elsind starts. Avymere makes a face. "I don't want to" "-but I thought traveling to the Sarytas was a lot of fun." "I was hiding in a suitcase during the day for a week!" Avymere exclaims. "And we got to hang out at nights!" Elsind counters. "It was like a big extended slumber party." "Except we were facing death at every moment and, again, I was hiding in a suitcase for hours at a time every day. Do you know how badly my back hurt?" Elsind makes an exaggerated sad face. "Weren't our chats fun, though?" Avymere hesitates before answering with a sigh. "...Yes, they were fun."

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @ray-writes-n-shit @evilgabe29

@trippingpossum @tragedycoded @halfbakedspuds @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman

@wyked-ao3 @thecomfywriter @mysticstarlightduck @rumeysawrites @the-golden-comet

@cowboybrunch @gioiaalbanoart @theink-stainedfolk

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Baby Steps Part 6

Larissa x pregnant!reader

Summary: Larissa and Reader's life as parents

A/N: Final part bitches!!! Hope you enjoyed it!

Read Part 5 here

You were completely and utterly exhausted–and sore. But you couldn’t remember a time in your life when you were happier. 

Laying back in the hospital bed, you watched with a dazed and sleepy smile as Larissa held Ramona in her arms. A bright smile was plastered on her face, accompanied by eyes that were almost equally as tired as yours. 

“I love you,” you mumble, your stare at her unwavering. 

Larissa, with the baby still in her arms, walked over to you and pecked you on the lips. “I love you too, darling. And may I just say, you made quite a cute baby.”

“I have many talents,” you giggle, accepting another kiss from Larissa.

“How the hell do people use these?” you groan as you try to buckle Ramona into her carseat. “Larissa, can you help me?”

It was like magic. Since getting the carseat a few months prior, you had practiced unbuckling and buckling a babydoll into it, and every single time, only Larissa could do it.

“What the fuck??” 

“Language!” Larissa joked. “There’s a baby right here!”

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the hospital bag, double checking that you had everything and more. “Oh, please. She’s two days old, Larissa. All she does is eat and poop.”

“Go lay down. Larissa and I have this.” 

It was the third time you were being scolded by your sister to rest. 

“Mia, no, I have to feed–”

“There is milk in the freezer,” she countered. “Trust me. We’ll be fine. Go rest.”

So, begrudgingly, you listened to her and went to bed.

With Larissa back at Nevermore and you on maternity leave, you had quite a bit of time to yourself when the baby was sleeping. This led to quite a bit of online shopping while binging seasons of new shows when you were bored. However, some of the items you had bought weren’t just for you.

It was eight when you put Ramona to bed, sleeping soundly with a full belly in the nursery. You snuck into your room, shutting the door quietly and completely ignoring Larissa who sat in bed reading her nightly chapter of the book she was reading. You made a B-line for the bathroom, excitement coursing through your veins as you dug through the cabinet under your sink.

You pulled out a skimpy set of red lingerie, knowing damn well how it’d affect Larissa. After throwing it on quickly, you opened the door to the bathroom and posed seductively. And to your satisfaction, she looked up and her mouth instantly dropped. 

Larissa tossed aside her book. “Where did you get that? When did you get that?”

“Well,” you said, creeping closer, “I’ve had quite a bit of free time…” On your hands and knees, you crawled into bed and up to Larissa. “And I thought, you’ve been so helpful lately that you deserve a little…treat.”

“Three more weeks,” Larissa muttered to herself. “Three more weeks…three more weeks…”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Just because I have to wait three more weeks doesn’t mean you have to wait. I’m not the only one here who’s able to have a mind blowing orgasm, Larissa.”

And with that, she pulled you in for a deep and passionate kiss, holding you close and breathing heavily when she pulled away from your lips to get a few words out. “You, my love, will be the absolute death of me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The past five years had flown by almost too quickly. With Ramona’s fifth birthday just a few days away and her starting kindergarten just a week after, yours and Larissa’s life was absolute chaos.

“Mom and Dad said they’ll be able to come over for the party,” you said from the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in your hand. “Mia said she can bring her boys over for some cake and almost every kid from Ramona’s daycare class will be here. So that’s…thirteen people coming over.”

Larissa, who was at the sink washing dishes, sighed. “Okay, so I guess we could just order a few pizzas. The kids will eat anything sweet, so we could just get a sheet cake from the market bakery. We have the pool, so that should keep everyone occupied most of the time.”

“We still need to get the decorations, though,” you said. “Ramona wants all pink. We could go tomorrow…have her pick the stuff out…take her to lunch. We need to get her some school supplies too. She starts on the 26th.”

Larissa turned the water off and dried off her hands, turning around and pouring herself a glass of wine at the island. “I think that’s a good idea. She could pick out some snacks too. Maybe a thing of soda. Between that and cake, though, these kids will have a world record sugar rush.”

“Oh, my darling,” you said, grinning into your glass. “The sugar rush will be bad, but think about the sugar crash.”

There were children everywhere and you were thankful for the backyard renovation you did a couple years prior. Multiple times, Ramona had insisted Larissa throw her in the pool and when she asked why you couldn’t do it, Ramona whined and said, “Cuz you’re taller so it’s funner! Please!!”

It was complete domestic bliss. Watching Larissa play mermaids with your daughter filled you with more joy than you could’ve imagined–especially when Larissa actually shifted a mermaid tail and all the kids went berserk. 

The sun was setting when the pizza arrived and mermaid-Larissa was completely forgotten about when the kids found out it was stuffed crust pizza. The three large pizzas were absolutely devoured and the cake was practically torn to bits. 

You met Larissa’s eyes across the patio, and noticing she looked horrified by the kids’ sugar rush, you mouthed, ‘Sugar crash,’ and she rolled her eyes and smiled before cleaning up empty pizza boxes and used paper plates.

Larissa groaned as she got into bed beside you and pecked you on the cheek. “I am exhausted. I don’t know how your sister does it with two kids. I could barely handle throwing Ramona in the pool twenty times.”

You paused the typing on your laptop where you were finalizing summer-school grades. You didn’t know what to say. The nausea would come and go, but you truly thought you were just sick with something a student gave you, and then you counted the days back to June. Your sister had taken Ramona for a week to give you and Larissa a little break. And that break led to a little road trip to a beach further south, which led to…a lot of sex–to put it bluntly–and a lot of experimenting. 

Well it’s sooner or later, you thought. Without a word, you shut your laptop and went into the bathroom. You came back out with your hand behind your back and an uneasy look on your face.

“What is it?” Larissa asked, looking up at you.

“Well…” You let out a deep breath. “Remember in June, when we went to the beach, and we did that…thing?” Larissa still looked confused. “You know…the shapeshifting thing…That we both really liked…?”

Larissa’s eyes widened. “Oh! Yeah…What abou–” 

Her words were cut short as your hand came out from behind your back, fingers clasped around a positive pregnancy test. You handed it to her, and the second she saw it, she gasped. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not mad, are you?” you asked.

Larissa beamed like the morning sun. “Mad? Darling, how could I be mad?” She got on her knees and pulled you into bed, laughing with you and pressing kisses all over your face. 

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “It’s just so sudden and…unexpected.”

 Larissa shook her head and kissed you firmly on the lips. “My love, some of the best things in life are sudden and unexpected.”

Tag list: @gwenistheloml @barbarasstar @gwendolinechristierulez @furrysharkfart @yourgaeyisshowing

[yenqa]

GLUE SONG!!

synopsis : love songs were definitely your favorite song to write. but with little experience it’s hard to get the right words out, so you search left and right for any opportunity. until you realize, he’s been hiding in plain sight all along.

warnings : uhh theyre so awkward Lawl, i dont think theres any tho?? just fluff

wc : 606 words

003 : great minds think alike

Being productive on a Saturday morning was something you didn’t expect would happen. But your mom just couldn’t get out of bed this morning and forced you to buy ingredients for dinner.

Though, she let you use her money to go shopping as a reward for the fact you probably had to go to three groceries stores just for her special surprise of a dinner was truly a karma itself coming for you.

So you didn’t mind the fact you had basically gotten free money, even if you had to take a little detour on the way home.

Deciding to try a new cafe today, you pull open the heavy door admiring the calm atmosphere of it.

The cafe wasn’t busy, but still had a few people sitting around, a majority with eyes glued to their laptop and an empty coffee cup sitting next to them.

You walk up to the cashier, waiting for the tall man to notice you as you make sure they have the drink you want to order.

He looks up to you, eyes widening as he quickly puts his phone down, walking up to the cashier.

“Sorry, not many customers have come today, surprisingly, what can I get you?”

Before you can even realize, you say “Do you have a recommendation? I don’t know what to get.”

That's a lie. You always drink a latte.

“Oh, that’s okay, I always get the iced americano.” 

He has a faint smile on his face, and a slightly bigger one grows on your face. His smile is cute, You think, admiring how his hair is styled or the few moles on his nose.

“This is awkward, I don’t really like strong coffee flavors, do you have anything lighter?” You let out a chuckle while saying it.

“Oh—sorry um, you could get a latte? The weather is getting colder, can't have you catching a cold, can I?” He blushes slightly while saying that, making sure to look everywhere but you.

You want to curl up in a ball and roll away. Can you believe this gorgeous man is flirting with you and can’t even look at you? 

Quickly glancing at his nametag, you let out a grin, “Wow Sunghoon, we just met and you already care so much for me? And yes I’ll have a latte, please.”

He nods, adding the order to the machine.

“Sorry—Um I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, is that all for you?”

You let out a breathy smile, “Don’t worry Sunghoon, you didn’t. Yes that’s all.”

“Oh okay, sorry—Your total is four dollars and ninety-five cents, you can insert the card here.” He points at the small black box in front of you, you quietly thank him, paying and leaving to sit down.

Soon after you sit down, he places your cup down in the order station, unsure of how to get your attention as he looks at you awkwardly. Chuckling, you walk up to him, taking your drink.

“Thank you!” You glance at the glass doors you walked in, “I’ll see you around, yeah? I’ve got to run some errands for my mom.” 

“Oh—yeah see you around.” He waves goodbye as you happily take your drink.

The second your out of view Sunghoon sits back down, why does he have to be so awkward around everyone? Especially pretty people like you?

He thought he was crazy for flirting with you out of nowhere, he probably made you uncomfortable and now you’ll never come back to the cafe again. He sighs, going back on his phone to distract himself.

Little did he know that you’re thinking the same thing.

back masterlist next

YENQA > first meeting what do we think 🙏

taglist : @nicholasluvbot @latriii @wtfhyuck @wonqr @enhastolemyheart @luvistqrzzz @jiawji @yswon @fakeuwus @xharisrealm @yeokii @xrvrqs @wonfied @redm4ri @keikeu @melsjy @enhaz1 @wvnkoi @noascats @mrchweeee @collectaed @noirxraa @jakeists @sngvhs @yuemvi @delulu4-life @envirae @heelover5 @kjrcrz @darly6n @girlokarina

sorry if i missed u (if i did dm me!)

[melodramaticatheart]

Buy Me A Coffee? - Lyra x Grayson

word count: 798

book: the grandest game

ship: lyra kane x grayson hawthorne

“You’re not going to say anything?” “You’re the one who wanted to meet up” Me and Grayson Hawthorne had been sitting in a cafe outside of the city for half an hour and none of us had said a word the smell of coffee and pastries was getting to me. We sat in the corner of the shop staring down into our coffees.  He had called me last night and made an offer for stupid enough coffee. I slowly recall the late-night call.

“What do you want blondie?” I answer the phone tired after a long study session “Well, Lyra Kane the truth is what do you want? You’ve been calling my number for three months now and I’ve just now learned your name and location.” I’m quickly taken aback at the sound of him using my full name “You know what I want Hawthorne boy. I’m hanging up now bye bye.” I say anger creeping into my voice. I just wanted this asshole to tell me what his family did to my father. I never once wanted him to get involved in who I was. I was going to hang up when he asked “Buy me a coffee?” God, why was he so confusing? “What, you’re serious right now? I am not taking you out to a cup of fucking coffee.” I was pissed now “Fine then I’ll buy you a coffee. Tomorrow the little cafe near the outskirts, I know you know which one I’m talking about. I’ll send you the time.” I was about to counter him when he hung up the phone. That little son of a bi- “Lyra?” “Yes,” I say looking at the boy sitting across from me I can tell he was speaking while I was zoned out. 

“Sorry, Hawthorne I would rather your voice not be the first I hear in the morning, probably not the last time I zone out during our conversation.” “What you’d rather I sing to get your attention.” I cock my head to the side and give him half a smile. He was amusing. Very amusing.

“Look unlike you I have a job the get to, so if you’ll tell me why I’m here drinking a cold coffee at 8 in the morning I’d be very pleased” I had work in a bit and class in the late morning if he didn’t hurry I would have to leave. But maybe that was a good thing. “Right because my one mission this morning is to please you.” He smiles, then says “It’s been three months and I have not been able to figure out your riddle.” He looks at me as he says it waiting for any sign of a reaction. He continues when I don’t say anything “Not even my brother who speaks in tongues can figure it out. So I’ve come to bring you a proposition: I think we should team up.” But by the time he’s finished, I’m laughing into my hands “No.” I shake my head not even hiding my smile “Why not? tell me what could be so bad about working with me to figure out your father's suicide.” I flinch my face falling at his words. I always knew my dad was dead I just never knew how, it was only until two years ago that the memory of his death started visiting me in dreams. It made the grief feel brand new.

 “Why would you even need my help you don’t think that if I had any way of figuring it out by myself I would, instead of asking a bratty rich heir who doesn’t know anything about real life?” I thought that would get a reaction out of him but he just set his hands on the table and looked at me “First if you don’t know the story I am not an heir and second we wouldn’t even have to work close, you can send me some photos of him to pass through my grandfathers' files. Some information that you can acquire from your mom-” “No, we are not bringing my mother into this” 

I interrupt him my mom and dad had divorced a couple of months after I was born but she still cared about him. I couldn’t imagine bringing up the raw pain of my father's death. “Fine, I’ll work with you but you will never show up to my city unannounced ever again,” I lift a finger to prove a point. “Nor will you keep any information from.” I lift a second finger up and wait for his answer. “Deal, can’t wait to work with you Ms. Kane,” He says with a smile and I have to look away. I get up and start to walk away, wondering what I’ve just gotten myself into

⊹‿︵‿୨ི୧‿︵‿⊹

requested by @reminiscentreader hope you like!

@art-of-fools

sorry this is kind of long btw

[freckleslikestars]

March 6th

a look at some of Mulder and Scully’s anniversaries throughout the years, spanning from mid-Season One to post-Season Eleven

I wote this for the philefest zine and then completely forgot about it until right now.

2411 words, read here on AO3

March 6th 1994

She arrives, as usual, ten minutes early, a sweet smile and her hand tucked behind her back as she places two disposable coffee cups on the desk and drops her briefcase to the chair that’s unofficially become hers, ‘gotcha something.’

The twinkling mirth in her eyes is infectious, and he kicks his feet from where they’re resting on the edge of his desk and leans forward, elbows on the desk, ‘oh yeah?’ He’d called her in on a Sunday to go over their travel plans to Tennessee, and given that, he was mildly surprised that she was in such a good mood.

‘Mm-hm,’ she pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a cupcake with a single candle in it. After a quick rummage in her pocket, she pulls out a disposable lighter and sparks a flame to life, ‘ta-da,’ her soft murmur, suddenly shy as she presents the little confection to him.

‘My birthday’s in October, Scully.’

‘Yeah, I, um...’ she swallows, clears her throat. ‘Today’s the- it’s March 6th. It’s been a year since I joined you on the X-Files. I figured...’ she shrugs and sighs, ‘I dunno, it’s stupid.’

‘No,’ Mulder shakes his head rapidly, smiling disarmingly, ‘no, it’s not stupid,’ he thinks about the box on his bookshelf at home that he’d agonised over whether to give her as he wrapped it the night before. ‘May I?’ he points at the candle, and she nods, clearing her throat again after he blows it out. ‘I, uh, I think I’ve got a knife here somewhere; we can split it?’

‘Sure,’ she ducks her chin, hiding her smile, as she passes it over.

On closer inspection, a grey fondant alien face tops the buttercream, and he grins up at her as he hands over her half, ‘happy first anniversary, Scully.’

March 6th 1995

He’d almost lost her. She’d been taken, and he almost hadn’t been able to get her back, and for three months, he’d been wracked with guilt and lost without her. But she was alive. She was still right there by his side, and he could see the determination that lined her face as she stuck by him, refusing to budge, refusing to leave him.

Their first year together was tame in comparison to the insanity that had befallen the two of them in their second year as partners, and he wonders idly if it was only going to get worse. He can’t imagine anything worse than sacrificing his sister for her.

He’s bought a cake, just a little one, from the grocery store round the corner from his apartment, and he’s stuck two candles wonkily in it. It’s less personal than the little alien cupcake Scully bought last year, but the store didn’t have anything more appropriate, and he knew how much Scully loved chocolate and how she wouldn’t have chosen it herself for some misguided belief that she needed to maintain her figure. So a decadent chocolate cake for six with wonky candles is what it’s going to be.

Her face lights up when she walks in and sees it, her grin widening further when she looks up at the shy smile on his face.

‘I think it’s your turn to blow them out this year,’ Mulder says as he strikes a match and lights the candles.

She nods as she sits down, blows them out and props her chin in her hand as she gazes longingly at the cake, ‘Mulder, do you think we’ll still be doing this next year? In five years’ time? Ten?’

He grins and cuts into the cake, daubing chocolate frosting on her nose before handing her a slice, ‘I think, Scully, that we’ll be doing this for another thirty years. Minimum. You’re not gonna get rid of me that quickly.’

March 6th 1998

‘We’ve got a detective coming in to talk to us about a dead drug dealer at ten,’ he says as she pushes through the door, a tray of cupcakes balanced in her hands. She’d been up most of the night trying to bake them, her mom on the phone as guidance. It was chemistry and physics, things she excelled at, but somehow baking was not her forte, and it had taken three attempts to get them right. But her mother’s pink lemonade cupcake recipe was always a crowd-pleaser, pink frosting and all, and she had wanted to do something special.

Five years. Five years in his basement office, chasing unbelievable things. Five years of missing time and abductions and cancer and sisters. Five years of surviving. That was something worth celebrating.

She nods in acknowledgement, depositing the tray on the desk and whipping out a pack of candles from her pocket, ‘well, that gives us two hours to enjoy cake, then.’

‘They look...good,’ he hesitates, and she rolls her eyes.

‘They’re rustic, okay. I’m not the most...artistic. Next year I’ll get my mother to make them.’

‘No, really, they look great. I’m sure they taste delicious.’

She smiles, lighting the candles, ‘I should hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this.’ They’d skipped cake last year, her appetite waning and neither of them in the mood to celebrate. With a flourish, she presents the candles to him, waiting for him to blow them out, and frowns when he hesitates.

‘I think you should be the one to blow them out. You missed your turn last year.’

She gives a small nod and breathes in, extinguishing the five flames in quick succession.

‘I, uh, I got you something,’ he says, clearing his throat and rummaging through his desk drawer.

‘Mulder, you didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘Actually, I got it for you a long time ago, but it never felt like the right time,’ he shrugs, pulling it out with a quiet ‘a-hah.’ He hands the box over, nervously biting his lip as she delicately opens it. ‘It’s, uh, it’s a snow globe.’

‘I can see that.’

‘It’s got a UFO in.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it does,’ she smiles softly. She shakes it, watching glitter swirl around the little cartoony spaceship. ‘Thank you, Mulder, I love it. Happy five years.’

‘Happy five years, Scully.’

March 8th 2003

She’d been working the graveyard shift in a bar two towns over from the motel they were staying at that month, bringing in what little cash she could to fund their constant running, and time had started slipping. Neither of them had looked at a calendar in more than a month, her birthday having gone unnoticed and unrecognised, and it was only because he’d grabbed a paper from the motel reception that he even noted the date. So, whilst she was sleeping the day away, the curtains drawn and the rattly heater struggling to take the late-winter chill off the room, he donned his coat and baseball cap and headed out to the nearest store.

With gas station cookies and a disposable lighter, he perches on the edge of the bed and gently shakes her awake, brushes the back of his forefinger across her cheekbone when she stirs, ‘hey, Beautiful.’

‘Mmm, time is it?’

‘Just gone noon,’ he murmurs, smiling when she groans and rolls away, ‘it’s March, Baby.’

‘March?’

‘Yeah. We missed our anniversary.’

She buries her face in the coarse motel pillow, mumbling, ‘our anniversary was months ago, Mulder.’

He gives a sad chuff, nodding at the other anniversary they missed, ‘no, not that one. The day you came in and turned my life upside-down. We’re a couple of days late, but...’ She drags herself up, rubs her eyes and smiles blearily at him, cupping his scruffy cheek. ‘I couldn’t get cake or candles, but I got cookies, and you can blow this out,’ he flicks the lighter on, holding it out for her to blow out, and she gives a quiet chuckle.

‘Ten years, huh?’

‘Ten whole years. Happy anniversary, Baby.’

March 6th 2013

It’s dark out when she phones, and he’s been staring at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time. He’s numb, unable to muster the energy to lie convincingly when she asks how he is; if he’s eating properly and getting enough sleep. He tries to feel something when he hears her sniffing and stifling a sob, tries to summon enough emotion to make his voice not sound flat when he tells her he misses her.

It’s not until he looks at the phone screen when she hangs up that he realises it’s twenty years since they met.

March 6th 2018

Her hair’s short again, almost the length it was twenty-five years ago, and though the laugh lines and the crease that permanently furrows her brow these days have deepened, her eyes still hold that same disbelieving mirth they twinkled with that first day as she held her hand out for him to shake.

‘You’re staring,’ she says, peering over the top of the case file she’s studying.

‘Am I?’

‘Mm-hm,’ she nods over at his laptop, ‘that expenditure report was due with Skinner yesterday – lingering over it isn’t going to help your case any.’

‘What makes you think I haven’t finished it?’

She smirks, ‘because I know you, and I know how much you hate expenditures. And because I’ve heard you type no more than ten words in the last two hours?’

He nods, still not taking his eyes off her, and shuts the lid of his laptop, ‘did you ever think, all those years ago, that we’d still be down here a quarter of a century later, filing motel and gas receipts?’

‘Honestly?’ he nods, and she sighs, shakes her head, ‘I don’t think I ever allowed myself that fantasy. We’ve overcome so much; the fact we’re even still talking is a miracle some days.’

He nods contemplatively and stands up, idly noticing the crack of his knees and creek of his spine, and holds his hand out to her, ‘come on, Scully. There’s cake waiting for us at home.’

March 6th 2023

He lets her sleep in, turns her alarm off and leaves under cover of darkness, intercepts Sammi as she comes barrelling across the landing towards their bedroom, ‘woah, Kid, not today. Mommy’s sleeping in.’

‘She sick?’

He chuffs a laugh as he swings her up onto his shoulders, shaking his head as he lopes downstairs with her, ‘no, it’s just a special day today.’

‘Like Christmas?’

‘Not quite, Honey,’ he sits her on the kitchen counter and gets to work making pancakes, ‘today’s our anniversary.’

The pre-schooler mulls that over, her sleep-mussed curls bouncing as she tilts her head in contemplation, ‘what’s an anibersary?’

‘An anniversary is when we celebrate a special day in our lives – your birthday is an anniversary.’

‘My birthday’s in October.’

‘It sure is, Kid, like mine,’ he nods, ruffles her hair as he passes her a tumbler of milk, ‘but today is special, ‘cause we’re celebrating the day Mommy and I met.’

‘Was it a looooong time ago?’

‘It was. A super long time ago.’

‘How long?’

He smiles and starts flipping the pancakes, ‘you guess.’

‘Ummm, I don’t know. Three years ago.’

‘Three years ago? Nope. Shall we work it out together?’

‘Yeah,’ she bounces on the counter, and for a moment, he marvels at the little being he and Scully created, all life and energy and fluffy pyjamas with rubber duckies on.

‘Okay, well, how old are you?’

‘I’m four.’

‘Okay, so we have to have known each other for more than four years. And do you remember what Mommy said about how long it takes to make a baby?’

‘Nearly a whole year!’

‘Yeah, that’s right. So let’s round up to five years. What else do you know?’

‘Umm...’ she sticks her thumb in her mouth as her brow furrows, and he gently removes it before pointing to the picture of Jackson holding her on the fridge, ‘Jack-Jack!’

‘Yeah, you’re brother. So, do you remember how old Jackson is?’ she shakes her head and he smiles, ‘that’s okay. He’s twenty-one – nearly twenty-two. So we add a year onto that and we get...?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Good job. So, Mommy and I have definitely known one another for at least twenty-three years-‘

‘That’s a really long time.’

‘It is, but I’ll tell you a secret – it’s been even longer than that.’

‘How much longer?’

‘Seven years longer. Can you do that math there? What’s twenty-three plus seven?’

She counts on her fingers, her jaw dropping when she comes to an answer, ‘you’ve known Mommy for thirty years?’

‘Mm-hm. And meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘Even better than chocolate cake?’

He barks a laugh, stacking the pancakes onto a plate and sticking a candle in the top, ‘even better than chocolate cake.’

~  X  ~

She wakes to a wet kiss on the nose and musical giggles, her daughter’s wide blue eyes pressed close to her own, ‘whatcha doing, Baby?’

‘It’s your anibersary.’

‘Mm, it is. Do you know what that means?’

‘It means Daddy’s got you a surprise,’ she whispers, and Scully cranes her neck to look over at Mulder sat at the end of the bed, giving him a coy smirk.

‘Oh, yeah? Daddy’s good at surprises.’

‘It’s pancakes.’

‘Pancakes?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Sammi sits up, dragging Scully to sitting, too, clapping her hands when Mulder presents the breakfast tray, complete with pancakes, hot tea and a flickering birthday candle. ‘Can I blow it out, Mommy?’

‘Sure, Baby,’ she smiles over at Mulder as their daughter huffs at the flame, mouthing ‘I love you’ at him.

‘I’m gonna get her dressed in a minute, then Jackson’s coming over to take her to school and bring her back later for dinner, which leaves the whole day just to ourselves.’

‘The whole day, huh?’ she spears a small triangle of pancake with her fork and holds it out for Sammi to take, finger-combing the tangles from the soft, downy hair of her baby bird.

‘The whole day, no interruptions, to do anything your heart desires.’

‘Whatever shall we do?’

‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ he grins, his smile softening as he watches his girls sharing their syrupy breakfast, thinking back all those years ago, trying to remember if he knew – if he had even an inkling – that day she walked into his office in a too-big suit, just how important she was going to be to him.

tagging @today-in-fic

[mercy-burning]

(preface) the letter. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor sets our scene. content warnings: N/A word count: 759

series masterlist || main masterlist

———

Dear Mom,

It feels strange to do this knowing that you're not actually here to read my words, but writing to The Idea of You somehow feels more comforting and less dorky than writing out "Dear Diary". Besides, I wouldn't be able to send them out to you anyway. No-contact with the world outside of Sardinia is my one condition to, truly, the best option I have.

It isn't the island in the Mediterranean, though. I've been sent to live in Sardinia, Alaska as a call-in doctor for its residents, even though I have no professional medical training whatsoever. I'm qualified enough to figure it out and be at least semi-proficient at the job, but it's not something I'm particularly eager about. Mostly because it's completely out of my control and I'd also rather not do it alone. I know it's for my safety, and my team is the best at what they do. In no time at all, I'll be back home and doing the job that I'm actually qualified for. I'll have my friends back... My family...

But I can't think about them like that right now. If I'm going to get through this "assignment," we'll call it, then I'm going to have to detach and move forward. When there's news, it will come, but until then I plan to do exactly as I'm expected to, and lay low. It shouldn't be too hard, though. All I really have to do is come when people call and give them the treatment to make them feel better. It's geographically the smallest, and physically the least-populated town I've ever visited, anyway. How hard could it possibly be?

The hardest part I'm sure will be boredom, but if that's the largest worry I'll have, then so be it. Being bored is better than being dead.

Until then, I have a semi-secluded cabin to myself right on the edge of town, with approximately seventeen warm knitted throw blankets (I'm still finding new ones here and there the more I explore the home) and a small painting of a cardinal above the front door. I look at it every morning over a cup of coffee and wonder about what Gideon would do in my shoes, until I laugh to myself and realize that he'd probably just do it every day with a smile and genuinely never want to leave. I'm like him in a lot of ways I think, but... I'll admit that I've been a bit too spoiled with my life in the city to even think about enjoying my time here to the fullest like he could.

For instance, I've come to realize that I don't like the snow as much as I thought I did. It's tolerable and sometimes even pretty when there are city workers who magically plow the sidewalks on your commute to work. And perhaps growing up in Nevada and wishing for a snowy Christmas morning all my childhood had tricked me into believing that it was magical, but I'm of the firm belief that snow is only 'magical' when you don't have to tend to it nearly every day. Some days are better than others, when there's only a light dusting for a week or two, but I've only been in Sardinia for two weeks and three days, and I'm utterly exhausted on physical labor alone. I could call my landlord to do it for me, as she'd so wryly offered to when I moved in, but I already feel like an outsider as it is. So rather than asking someone to teach me how to fix and use the rickety old snowblower in my shed out back, I have promptly decided to suffer in silence and keep my dignity intact.

Who knows, by the end of this Alaskan venture, I may also just be strong enough to take Derek Morgan in an arm-wrestling match... Well, okay, definitely not, but at the very least I'd be able to catch him off-guard for a second or two before his inevitable victory.

Anyway... Aside from greetings from my landlord and the Mayor, I haven't officially met any of the people in town yet. I think they're all still a bit worried about immediately bothering the call-in doctor and not giving him enough time to settle in first, but he's also not really made an effort to do much exploring outside the perimeter of his cabin and its backyard... To his credit, he doesn't do well with change. Never has.

Perhaps the quaint community of Sardinia doesn't, either, and perhaps that's something we'll have in common.

[overleftdown]

angsty farleigh start blurb

hello hi fanfiction! mostly character study with a lot of sad hehehah. what else would one expect from me!

There are things that Farliegh took for granted. 3 months after leaving Saltburn, he realizes that money isn't really one of them.

Instead, he finds himself folded over a mug of lukewarm coffee at 2am, staring down a collection of postcards mounted on the far wall of his local diner. He had just finished working a double, unwilling to decline an offer that would bump both his pay and reputation. Farleigh has 8 hours until his next shift. He's staring at a postcard from Greece, a name hastily penned onto the front; the edges are worn, and the corners bent. He's wondering what's written on the side pressed to the yellowing popcorn walls. Almost absentmindedly, he lifts the rim of his mug to his lips and thinks, I wish I told them how much I wanted to see Mykonos. The coffee is bitter.

It becomes a constant, after that. Walking through the American snack isle and passing his favorite cereal brand, thinking I wish I had told them how good Reece's Puffs were. Catching the eye of a boy around his age with a piercing through his left nostril, thinking I wish I told Felix to get that one. Going, alone, to a movie theater and thinking I wish I told Venetia that I loved Rocky Horror Picture Show. On and on it went. 

I wish I told them I saw the Grand Canyon, and that it was so gorgeous I lost my breath. I wish I told them that I always preferred white wine over red. I wish I told them that my silk bedding was so my hair wouldn't dry out, tangle, or tear. I wish I told them about the friendship bracelets I once made for us; that I kept all three in a box under my bed. I wish I told them I was scared of being insignificant.  I wish I told them that I missed my mom and dad, that I'm farther from myself every day, that I might hate myself despite my arrogance. 

Farleigh has spent his life hiding. There were dinner party invites that didn't extend to his father, yet somehow included him. Farleigh remembers sitting secluded, for once wishing he kept his hair short. Older women who wanted so badly to be young, gravitating towards him with greetings like "You're Frederica's son! I always wondered what you'd look like. I never expected a handsome young man like yourself." And the men; rough yet unworn hands that sometimes gripped the nape of his neck. "You're unique, Farleigh. It's hard to find someone who looks quite like you. You're maturing quickly." On and on it went. Despite the itching, Farleigh never cut his hair short. The Cattons would ask him why he insisted on such messiness, contrary his otherwise sharp fashion. Silk pillowcases. Five shampoo bottles, an array of hair creams--all kept out of eyesight. Better to let them believe his hair was a casual affair, and intentionally so.

The cocaine had been the least of his hidings (and look where that landed him). People are always sequestering the sunburnt, raw-rubbed, defective pieces of themselves. The things they so desperately clung to, bad habits like a bright red blemish on a ledger, or a lifeline. The first time Farleigh saw the inside of a teacher's lounge had been 30 minutes past the final bell, with a head of tangled hair that he had styled perfectly just 7 hours ago. He remembers accepting the offered cup of tea and thinking Felix won't notice I'm gone. He had told Felix what he did that evening, anyways. This, Farleigh had never thought to hide. Better not to. Better to tell Felix, who was so prone to flippancy, that he would do anything for a good grade. 

"What, you're that shit at school, mate? Jesus. You better not tell anyone; you'd get ousted in days." Felix had said, a painful looking blush to his face. They had only been 16, after all. "I mean, seriously! I never took you for a pillock." At that, Farleigh had raised his eyebrows skeptically. There are some things that were abundantly clear. Uncle James had insisted that Farleigh required a higher education than whatever American dumpster he would be learning his times tables in, and the rest of the Cattons had quickly glued themselves to the idea. They liked to think that they were saving him from stupidity.

In the end, it had been Felix who told someone Farleigh's secret. Namely, his new friend that had been sitting in Farleigh's seat for the last 2 weeks. After countless meetings and scoldings, and significant attempts to publicly humiliate him, Farleigh was sent back to Saltburn before his transfer. When Elspeth and James asked, frantically, what Farleigh had been thinking, he had told them that he needed a better grade. They'd just have to try harder to save him. In truth, there were some things that never really went away, like a teachers lounge and a fresh cup of tea. Something secret, something just for him.

The things that Farleigh insisted on hiding were good things, already half-stained by the bad. A family photo album inside of a shoebox inside of a pillowcase inside of a duffel bag under his bed, next to the ornate little chest where he obviously kept his drugs. Photo strips, polaroids from New York City, his mom's peach scented powder blush, his dad's discarded tie clip. If you keep what really matters just far enough to the side of what people consider a secret, they'll never look any harder. Farleigh has always believed that your worst mistakes only marginally define your humanity. Really, it's what someone loves, isn't it? It's who they would change for. It's who they would make bracelets for. 

Back to the diner, back to the present, back to a time and place where nobody really cared to distinguish a secret from a statement. Back to the postcard from Greece that Farleigh wants to rip off the wall, just to read what is obscured. Saltburn was so large of a life that it was impossibly surreal, too many millions of dollars past tangibility. Whatever was written on that postcard was touchable. A small piece of an even smaller existence. Farleigh was terrified of what it meant to be alive. To stash pieces of himself in dark places like stowaways on the Titanic. To carry what was left after the rest capsized.  

I wish I'd given them those bracelets. I made them so they'd think of me, even when I wasn't there. 

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

The Eclipses Show

Pairing: None

Word Count: 1,579 Words

Summary: A good wake up and a bad feelings day for Phase. Crescent has a tantrum.

Warnings: Cursing, Past Death (mentioned), Grieving, Abuse, Trauma, Near-Death Experience (mentioned), Harassment, Minor Violence, let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 5: I’m Nothing Like You

Solar woke up with weight on his shoulder and chest like a body on top of his own. What the hell? He was sure it was probably Crescent bothering him again so he simply didn’t respond until-

“Dad…” Phase’s soft voice whispered against his shoulder and Solar opened his eyes as he suddenly remembered the previous day. Umbra was nowhere in sight and Phase was laying tucked up on top of him asleep still. Solar put a hand to Phase’s back and held him there. He did promise he’d stay by them and make sure they woke up.

“Good morning.” Umbra greeted him as he came back with three plates of food. Solar’s body had the function just like their new ones did to turn food into excess battery life but it had been so long since he used the function. It had also been a long time since he was greeted so nicely.

“Morning.” Solar groaned.

“Hold on.” Umbra took a fork full of pancakes and held it up under Phase’s nose. Phase’s nose twitched and then his lips before his eyes cracked open and he craned his head and bit the fork, half awake but obviously simply following the scent of food.

“Mowmim.” Phase greeted around the fork and piece of pancake as best he could.

“Time to stop crushing Solar, sleepyhead. He’s gotta eat too.” Umbra chuckled at Phase’s tired antics.

“Do I get coffee?” Phase asked.

“I got you one better. You get a Red Bull if you stop laying on Solar…for now.” Umbra showed Phase the cold 20oz can and waved it around a little like a prize. Phase almost instantly sat up off Solar and grabbed the Red Bull from Umbra.

“I love you!” Phase told Umbra.

“Love you too, brother.” Umbra patted Phase on the head as Phase framed the plate missing its fork, the fork Phase still had in his mouth. “And I got you iced coffee, Sol. Wasn’t sure how you like coffee so I just went with the maple pecan thing in the Faz-Pad.”

“Can’t go wrong with maple.” Solar smiled a little, sitting up and taking the coffee and plate Umbra offered him.

“I’m more of a peppermint person.” Umbra sat across from the two on Solar’s bed with his own plate and a cup of tea.

“You’re a tea person?” Solar asked, drinking some of his coffee.

“I’ll fall back asleep if I have coffee or energy drink so tea is my main source of caffeine.” Umbra told him.

“Rest in pieces.” Phase told him, stuffing a whole pancake into his mouth.

“‘Rest in pieces’.” Solar snorted at that.

“I pity him.” Phase said, mouth stuffed full of pancake.

“Please chew your food, Phase.” Umbra sighed.

“You’re not my mom!” Phase whined but did as he asked anyway, chewing and swallowing the pancake.

“We don’t have a mom.” Umbra rolled his eyes.

“Technically Sun would be your mom in a way and Corona would technically be mine?” Solar told them.

“Oh hell no. I’d rather not have one.” Phase complained.

“Yeah, no. I’ll be motherless, thanks.” Umbra rolled his eyes.

“Realistically, if we think about it, our respective Moon is our mom, our Kill Codes are our dads, and Sun and Corona were like surrogates.” Solar told them.

“That is…horrifying, thank you.” Umbra sighed.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll stick with just having a dad and no mom.” Phase told him but paused. “Had a dad.”

“Are you okay?” Solar asked, holding onto Phase’s hand.

“I miss him. And Bloody.” Phase looked down, eating a bit slower as he tried to mask the guilt and regret he felt.

“It’s okay to miss someone. I’m sure he misses you too.” Umbra told him, patting his shoulder.

“Thank you. It’s just a bad day, I think. I’ll be alright.” Phase gave them a little smile to reassure them.

“Well, when you’re ready to come out, if you want to, I’ll be in the daycare setting up. I have like ten check ins today and I feel like I’ll have more walk ins. You two can do whatever you want today as long as you behave.” Solar told him as he finished off his pancakes and took his plate and fork to the kitchen and stuck them into the dishwasher to be run after dinner tonight.

It was surprisingly easy in the daycare, eight of the ten kids were the well behaved ones with the two rowdy ones playing tag near the ball pit. It was simple to give the eight calm kids some drawing activities and just letting the the other two chase each other with his monitoring to make sure neither killed themself.

Umbra eventually ventured out and helped once the walk-ins began with Phase deciding to stay in their room for the day, too overwhelmed today to really get out of bed or do anything. Solar was sure eventually he’d come out of his grief of his family, they’d help him with getting comfortable with his new family.

Family. Solar already thought of them as family? As brothers? He smiled a little thinking about it. It was nice to actually consider someone his brother.

Phase looked up at the door opening, not turning around since he thought it was either Umbra or Solar telling him it was lunch time. He wasn’t up to getting out of bed. He wasn’t feeling the best today and Umbra had stayed with him for a while, assuring him that feeling like that was fine and that he could take his time adjusting to the new environment.

“Yeah?” Phase asked.

“Worthless extra parasite, get up!” Crescent growled. Phase sighed and turned around to look at Crescent with a bored expression.

“What, backup?” Phase asked.

“Why you little-!” Crescent snarled at the reminder that he was a backup of this universe’s original Moon. “So useless! Can’t even get up and do your job cleaning things during naptime!?” Crescent spat.

“I don’t have to do shit. Just because you’re a prick doesn’t mean you get to bully people into doing things you should be doing.” Phase told him but, realistically he felt a bit of fear pooling up. He could remember that it was Moon who had almost killed him not even two full days ago and Crescent looked like Moon enough that it was making his near death play back in his head.

Flare was gone, he had given himself up and allowed Phase to barely live. Flare had given his life because he had decided Phase deserved a real second chance to change. And he wasn’t going to let Flare’s sacrifice go to waste. But having the visage of your almost-murderer yelling at you was scary.

Crescent stepped more into the room and grabbed Phase by the rays, making him yelp at the pain in the head they created as he gripped them tight.

“You are a mistake! Nobody has ever wanted you just like the other two parasites. If you knew what was good for you, you’d keel over and die like your fucking brothers. Maybe then your daddy would care about you again.” Crescent hissed at him.

“Hey!” Umbra snapped in the doorway, grabbing Crescent’s hand holding Phase’s rays and gripped it tight enough to make Crescent release his grip after a sharp crackle, eyes glowing a crimson that tinged his purple eyes, his bits of the kill code showing through as he was pissed.

Umbra practically threw Crescent from their room onto his ass in the walkway. Phase couldn’t breathe, not that he needed to. He curled up in his bed as the words sank in and he hid his face into his arms, black oil leaking from his eyes as he tried to keep his tears silent.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult my brothers!” Umbra spat at Crescent, shaking with rage. Crescent glared at him as he got up before stalking off, pissed.

The crimson tinge disappeared from Umbra’s eyes as he turned to sit with Phase and pulled him up to hold him.

“It’s okay. Don’t believe him. He’s just an asshole. Never believe someone like him, Phasey. You aren’t a mistake, me and Solar want you. We love you.” Umbra assured him as Phase buried into his arms, hiding so he could cry against him.

“But Dad and Bloody. He said Dad would love me if I died like…” Phase hiccuped.

“Your Dad loved you, he wasn’t the best but he was trying as a new dad. You don’t have to die like your brothers for him to love you because he already did. He’s like us. We’re not the best as expressing ourselves. But he loved you, I know it.” Umbra promised him, rocking him a bit as Solar came to investigate the strange sounds during naptime, keeping track of the kids with his internals.

“What happened?” Solar asked.

“Your asshole tried to harass him and poked at some very raw nerves.” Umbra explained.

“It’s okay, Phase, everything will be okay. I promise. I’m sorry about him, he’s just a prick. Please don’t let his words hurt you too much. He’s just a bully, he likes to hurt people. I’m sorry he targeted you.” Solar sat with them, rubbing Phase’s back.

Before long, Phase was sleeping and holding Umbra hostage with his hands tangled into Umbra’s ruffles, unwilling to let go. Solar went back to the daycare, letting Umbra snuggle Phase while the youngest AI slept.