#my neighbor's garden is a spot of beauty

[genderfreakxx]

The amount of dreams I’m having about kissing beautiful men lately is so upsetting like shut UP about it

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 1/3

where you’re just trying to make it through the day, and jamie thinks you’re his girlfriend (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

AN: hello i started this blog to post all of my writings that have been piling up! this has been sitting on my laptop for awhile, and i decided to post the first part to see how things go! lmk ur thoughts! btw this is not proofread oops

word count: 6k+

You think that the highlight of your day might be tending to your garden. 

It started as a bit of a de-stressing-after-your-job hobby. At first, you found joy in coming home and taking time to water the flower beds at the front of your home, faithfully tending to them with the sole purpose of making the exterior of the house pretty for passerbyers. That soon turned into your father helping you install a window box at your bedroom window, so you can wake up to the site of blooming Zinnias. You meticulously started planting more flowers in your yard, and soon the vegetable garden (a neighborhood favorite). 

Mrs. Dunphy from two houses down was the first person who inquired on the abundance of your radishes and carrots. Never one to turn down a request, you began to give her a generous amount of the vegetables you’ve grown. And she’s just too sweet of a woman, sometimes you will pick the best of your abundance to give. 

And once word got around the street that you were giving away free, fresh vegetables, more people came running. Mr. Taylor suddenly was wondering about any spare tomatoes for the sandwiches and salads he makes when his grandkids visit. Stevie likes to snack on cucumbers, and she’s one of the very few people you know around the block your age, so of course you’re gonna chop a few when she comes over to watch shitty reality TV with you (and pack a few for her to take home, of course). 

Your garden has become something to connect you with other members of your neighborhood in Richmond, thus making it a passion project of sorts. As well as a productive pastime—that might as well be a second job. You try to keep it a secret, but you’ve begun to talk to your plants. That one tip about how talking to plants is good for their health is pretty famous, right? 

You’re quietly humming to the acoustic radio station you have playing on your speaker, meticulously chopping up onions for your soup. You like the recipe you're doing—it’s creamy and rich and you have most of the ingredients in either your cupboards, or your garden. 

It’s one of those days where you’re off work early, and just looking forward to a day to yourself. It’s not abnormal for Stevie to come ringing the doorbell whenever she sees fit, but it’s a day where you know she’s going to be gone late for work. So unless you decide to call up one of your other friends, or maybe your parents, it’s just you. And you’d like to go that way: you’ve been waiting for a bit of a self-care day. Nothing can cure your stress like warm soup, some music, and the comfort of your home. 

You open your fridge, spotting the array of tomatoes before picking one to use. Though, nearly immediately, your mind wanders off to something. Your eyes instinctually glance out your kitchen window at the house next-door, seeing it empty of the typical car. 

A new neighbor had moved in recently next-door, and usually he’d be home by now. . . Is it weird that you know that? Maybe it’s a bit creepy. But, if you’re completely honest, you’re a bit hyper-aware of this neighbor. If it isn’t his status in England, it’s his wonderful personality. And if it isn’t his wonderful personality, it is the fact that he might be one of the most beautiful and fit people that you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

You remember the first time you met Jamie. 

“You need help?”

Your shoulder jolted slightly, and you nearly dropped the soiled crate of peonies from your arms. It’s hard to startle you, mostly because you think you’re pretty hyper aware of your surroundings. You can easily spot the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Michelin, as well as their boisterous voices. 

The voice that spoke, however, did not sound like a couple in their early-60s. You hadn't even heard the footsteps. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

You angled your hip around, adjusting the crate in your hands in a way that doesn’t hurt your fingers. 

Immediately, it was easy to recognize that the man is Jamie Tartt: not only the man who had recently moved in next door, but also the known striker for Richmond’s own Premier League club. It’d be easy to mistake him for a regular guy, though, if his pajama pants and jumper couldn’t make him look any more average. His hair parts evenly down the center with concerned brows raised up to nearly the hairline. 

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, seeming to mistake your quiet observation of him as you still being scared as balls. 

You huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“That’s my fault—no need to apologize.” He waits another beat before adding, “I’m Jamie. I just moved in next door. I kinda… saw you when I just walked out. Thought to introduce myself.”

You grin. “Trying to be on everyone’s good side?”

He returned your grin, looking less tense now that you had reciprocated the conversation. “‘Never had much of a good one to begin with in neighborhoods. I’m trying to change that.”

There was a beat of silence before you said your name, feeling surprisingly awkward in this situation. You’re by no means a social butterfly, but it’s hard to startle you—especially on your own home property. Every conversation approached to you has always been reciprocated evenly by you. If Mrs. Michelin from down the street wanted to tell a story of the old diner she owned, you did your work quietly while listening, chiming in when necessary. If Stephen from down the block wanted to stop by for tea and gossip (which you’ve never been into the gossip part of it), you sip your tea nonchalantly and ask engaging questions that won’t entirely give away your true opinion on the matter: Mr. Barnaby is rude? What makes you think that? 

But for some reason, in the presence of your new neighbor, you found yourself quite speechless. Maybe it’s because Jamie is basically a celebrity. You had no doubt that he had millions of followers on every platform he ran—and the paps love him (she sees it on the news and papers). 

That’s probably why. 

“Well,” you cleared your throat, smiling. “Welcome! Everyone around here is pretty nice, but you can make those conclusions yourself when they inevitably pay you a visit.”

“Is it a tight-knit group around here?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded. “Quite. A lot of them come over sometimes to get veggies, and they seem to know about each other’s lives well.”

His smile turned into a full-grown grin. Immediately, you were desperate to know which words you said elicited that smile, so that you could say the same thing over and over again.

“You sell veggies?”

You shook your head. “I just grow them for everyone!”

In the next few minutes, you’re setting an arrangement to give Jamie a crate of carrots for his morning smoothies. You hide the giddiness you felt from the possibilities of seeing him again.

You’re placing onions into a pot on the stove, mind now away from your neighbor’s whereabouts, when your phone rings. You toss the chopped onions into the sizzling pot before picking up your phone and placing it between your ear and shoulder. 

“Hello?” you say cheerily. It’s been a decent day and you’re about to make your favorite dish, so you’re in a good mood. You balance the phone in between your ear and shoulder and you go back to tend to your uncut tomato. 

A lady on the other end—in a voice that seems quite familiar, but you’re still unsure of—says your name questioningly, in an almost frantic manner that has you furrowing your brows. 

Placing your cutting knife down, you wipe your hand on a rag before holding your phone directly to your ear for more support. “Yes?”

“Um—I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to deliver this news to you, especially since we’ve never spoken before… which surprises quite a bit…” the woman’s voice on the other line trails off, leaving you more confused. Setting your knife down, you lean a bit closer to the phone. “But, Jamie’s in the hospital. He’s hit his head.”

Jamie? Your next-door neighbor Jamie? Premier League Jamie? The one you were just thinking about? “Tartt?”

“Yes,” the woman replies, “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know why the woman is apologizing to you. Jamie’s the one who’s hit his head! It’s still confusing as to why you’re the person who received the call, but concern immediately seeps into your bones at the thought of someone so lovely not being alright. 

“No, no. I-It’s okay. Is he alright?”

“He’s got a concussion. It’s quite bad, but not horrible. I’m sure the doctor can explain what’s wrong better than I can. Do you think you can come right now? He’s been asking for you nonstop.”

You frown confusingly. “Me? Are you sure?” You and Jamie are far from strangers, and maybe more than just acquaintances. Sometimes you give the man carrots, that’s basically friend status. But you both are definitely not close enough for him to ask for you after being concussed. He should be asking for a parent, or a relative, or just anyone who is much closer than you are to him. 

The woman on the other end giggles. “I’m quite sure. He’s been yapping nonstop to see you—gave us your number and everything! I know this isn’t an ideal circumstance for his friends to meet you, but we really are a bit excited and curious to put a face to the name.”

What the hell has Jamie said about you? 

“So,” the lady says on the phone, reminding you that she’s there, “are you able to come?”

You stare at the pot boiling on your stove. 

“Send me the address.”

—

The second your eyes meet Jamie’s, his eyes soften until a smile goes over his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry…” your voice trails off, unsure of how to go about talking to him. Your body has barely entered the room in full, but the attention goes to you immediately. You feel the need to give a justified response for why your arrival has been so delayed (you didn’t even know this was happening until barely half an hour ago!). “I was cooking when I got the call, it all happened so suddenly. Are you alright?”

The smile remains on his face. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

There’s a pause in the room. All eyes seem to be on you as you stare back in shock at Jamie's words. A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone is awaiting your next response with surprised, curious eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, trying to ignore how your heart lurches at Jamie’s words. A sentence like that seems like something you would conjure up in the back of your mind during times you’d like to fantasize about Jamie. You try to push those thoughts aside, because he’s nothing more than your neighbor—possibly friend. A double meaning has to be coming from the sentence, and all you have to do is act cool so that no one will know how affected you are by this. “Am I supposed to be bringing him back to his home?”

The nurse looks down at his clipboard. “You’re his neighbor, correct? You know his address?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you should be fit to bring him home. Unless, you think it’ll be more reliable for someone else to? I know all of this must be stressful.”

You quickly shake your head. “Not stressful at all. I’m just trying to grasp why I was called here.” Surely Jamie had a family member to ring up, or even one of the people currently in the room, who seem to care about him very much. You walk closer to Jamie’s bedside to see if there are any damages to his face that you might’ve not been able to see from afar. Your heart beats at a less-rapid pace when you see that physically, he looks fine. He catches your eye with a smile as you look down at him.

Ted Lasso speaks up. You never thought you’d see him in the flesh, just a person on your television that you see when you eat dinner alone. “Well, Jamie here has been hassling us to see his lady since he’s been up. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name! ‘Been a long hour of wonderin’.”

Before you can even retort, like how you didn’t even know Jamie had a girlfriend (like why would you be here if Jamie wants to see his girlfriend—your heart sinks lightly at the thought, but it seems all too selfish to care about that when Jamie’s in a worrying predicament), the blonde girl speaks up.

“You know, I will say that I was mad hurt when I found out Jamie has a girlfriend and didn’t even tell us.”

Yeah, you think. He didn’t tell you, either. 

A tall man grunts from beside her. “How long have you lot been going out, anyway?”

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide. 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the room, “For Christ’s fucking sake, can you all stop bombarding her with questions?” He reaches out a small distance to grab your hand and pull you closer to his bedside, your hip now resting against the bed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Your mind freezes. You look down at your joint hands, then back to his face. 

Surely this has to be some mistake. Jamie is telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not; if this is some sort of bit he wants to play on the very many people in this room that care about his well being. The only time you’ve gotten even close to touching Jamie was whenever his fingers would brush against yours to pick up a crate of carrots. You don’t even know what the inside of his house looks like! There are many facts about him that—though, you would like to know—you don’t know at all. And now he’s gone and told everybody that you’re dating!

The only thing you do know, is that you and Jamie have now got five pairs of eyes on you. 

And they all think that you’re in a relationship. 

“Jamie…” you say, tip-toeing through your next words to make sure you don’t say something that will put him into shock. “How hard did you hit your head?” His hand remains firmly in your own. 

He pouts, turning to a man who’s sitting on a chair in the corner. He’s pouting guiltily, still in his Richmond kit with dirt on his knee pads. 

“Pretty fucking hard,” the man mumbles. His fingers are fidgeting, and you recognize him as Richmond’s captain—Isaac. 

The nurse standing by you nods. “Essentially,” he says, shrugging. 

“Like—extremely hard?”

The nurse sighs. “I’m surprised it’s just a concussion. But nothing seems to be truly wrong; the X-rays would’ve shown.”

(Clearly something more than a concussion must have happened for Jamie to believe that you’re his girlfriend!) 

“Are there any medications, protocol that we should be aware of, Nurse?” Ted chimes in, leaning closer to the center of the room. 

“Recommended actions will be included in his discharge papers. I would say wait a day or two before taking any pain medication. Avoid bright lights, like the telly or your phone. I suggest wearing sunglasses outdoors—though I don’t think that’d be any different than usual. Other than that, I think you will heal just fine. But until then, it looks like your girlfriend has to be your nurse for a bit.”

You choke up again at the mention of that term, a dry cough riding up your throat. Eyes snap towards you, concern immediately filling each iris. 

“Love,” says Jamie, voice in clear pain over his misinterpretation of your emotions. “I’m going to be okay. I always get better. You know that.”

No, you wanted to say, I don’t know that. You wanted to close your eyes and count to ten—meditate maybe, and think of your next moves. You wanted to be back home, stirring broth in a pot instead of getting tangled up in a fiasco that you’re ill-equipped for. 

Unfortunately, none of those are an option for you. And, as you look at Jamie in his hospital gown, your heart constricts. Something plucks a small melody on your heartstrings as you stare into his glazed and hopeful eyes. Hopeful for you. 

You try to give your best smile. One that says, it’s going to be okay. If you worry, it’s clear Jamie will worry. It’s obvious by his expression that his sole focus at the moment is you. 

You’re not sure how convincing the smile is. You feel like a fraud, pretending to be something for Jamie that you’re clearly not. You’re far from being his girlfriend, or even someone Jamie could fancy if his head hadn’t been so fucked up. 

But maybe, though, the smile is convincing enough: his face is elated at your positive acknowledgement towards him. 

“Fucking gross.”

Your body snaps around, yet again acutely aware of the presence of multiple bodies around you, all looking at you and Jamie the same: confusion mixed with wonder (or disgust). It’s clear, though, that the voice had come from Roy Kent himself. 

(He’s known for these things, you guess.)

Frowning, you turn back to Jamie. 

“Oi,” snaps Jamie, eyes shifting gloweringly to Roy. “She hasn’t got a clue of your attitude yet. Pipe down.”

Not wanting to upset Roy Kent, you shake your head vigorously. “Don't even worry. I’m just a little caught off guard at the moment.” You clear your throat, “Um… do you suppose I can speak to the doctor quickly?”

“Doctor!” says Ted loud and eccentrically, no doubt in hopes that his obnoxious manner would lighten the mood. “Let her see the doctor!” 

“Get the fucking doctor here!” says Keeley to the nurse, who merely sputters in return. 

“I-I’ll fetch her right now.”

It only takes a minute for a woman to peek her head through the door. “I heard I am needed.”

Roy groans, and she smirks at him like they both know something that not many get.

“Jamie’s lovely lady wants to have a word with you,” says Ted with a grin when you take a beat too long to reply for yourself.

She turns her head to you, and you nod. 

“Yes,” you say. Prying your hand gently from Jamie’s, you follow the doctor. “I’ll be back,” you add softly.

Once the door is closed behind you two, a large and panicked breath releases from your lips. You finally get to feel how clammy your hands have gotten. “Listen, Doctor…” you look at her quizzically.

“—Doctor O’Sullivan,” she says. 

“O’Sullivan. Thank you.: You breathe in. “I’m not very sure how to say this, but I’m really fucking confused at the moment. Kind of freaking out confused.”

The woman in front of you doesn’t hesitate to place a comforting hand on your elbow. “Is everything alright? Roy had said you were Jamie’s girlfriend; I know how hard this could be on—“

“--That’s the problem!” you can’t help but interrupt, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. I’m just his neighbor! I’m not sure how him banging his head led me to believe otherwise, but—but I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor stares back at you, mouth agape. 

“Yeah,” you sympathize, nodding your head. “I know.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Um,” she begins, “out of all things you could’ve said… I wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth.”

You nod frantically, your voice going down to a worried whisper. “Is his head—like—okay? I’m worried that if he’s remembering stuff that isn’t true, then something may be very wrong with his brain, or whatever part he hit.”

Dr. O’Sullivan sighs, looking down at her clipboard before jotting something down. “Memory loss… things like that tend to happen with the concussion he has. I would be far more concerned if the X-rays showed any trauma, but he truly does seem to be fine. My guess is his memory will come back—maybe slowly, but it will certainly recollect.”

“But do I tell him now?” you ask, in a minor panic. If someone this morning had told you that your neighbor (the one you have been minorly crushing on, mind you) would suffer from a concussion that rendered him thinking you two are in an established relationship… well, you probably wouldn’t know what to say in that situation. But this certainly hadn’t even been in your mind for unexpected things that could possibly happen. 

“My recommendation right now would be no; don’t startle him. His concussion has only just occurred, and it’s best not to confuse him even more. The first and most important goal is to get him back home to rest. Just check in on your comfortability as you go through this, okay? I’ll give you my personal cell, in case you have any dire questions.” She writes down her number on a piece of paper before ripping it off and handing it to you. 

You neatly tuck it into your pocket, nervously smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies with a more assured smile compared to yours. She rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “I mean it when I say reach out. This will be difficult to navigate.”

You nod, giving her one last look before you re-enter the room apprehensively. It’s quiet when the door creeks and all eyes are on you, as if wanting to observe your next move. In the array of eyes, Jamie is looking at you with an expectant look, a large smile on his lips as you fidget with the rings on your finger awkwardly. You want to run out of the room, but you remember Dr. O’Sullivan’s words: Don't startle him. 

“Jamie,” your voice is hoarse. The entire group leans a little closer at the sound of your voice, awaiting your next words. You clear your throat. “I’m very worried about you.”

His smile dims. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I should’ve been more careful.”

Everyone else in shock by his quick admission to his wrongdoings, Isaac stands up suddenly. “It’s my fault, bruv. Your girl should be mad at me.” He bows his head ashamedly. “I’m so sorry.” 

You frown, shaking. “I think everyone in the room can agree that none of this is intentional.” You look around the room for confirmation. “Right?” 

“Jamie’s lady is right!” says Ted. And then, “—wait, does me referring to you at Jamie’s lady dehumanize you? I apologize on my behalf. You are your own woman!”

That manages a small laugh from you. It’s clear Ted’s good-naturedness isn’t just a personality created in the papers. “I’m feeling perfectly humanized, thank you. I don’t blame anyone, I’m just glad you’re okay, Jamie. But I’m very worried. You don’t … seem the best.” You think that we are dating, when all I do is give you fresh veggies. “I want you to get better.” I want you to get your own memories back, because this fabrication in your head is extremely, medically concerning. “But it could be worse!” you add at the end. You could’ve forgotten your own identity, so there’s that! 

The room is silent. 

“I don’t know about y’all,” begins Ted. “But I’m lovin’ the element of concern with added positivity! You’re right, it could’ve been worse! Jamie could be dead.”

“Too much, Ted,” says Rebecca softly. 

Roy grunts. “I thought that was a wonderful, brief visual.”

Jamie’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, man?” 

The older man grunts, angrier. “I said brief.” 

You can’t tell if his comments are a joke or not.

Jamie, appearing to sense your uncomfortableness, is quick to reply, “Oi! What did I say about her not knowing your fucking attitude?”

“It’s okay!” you squeak, not wanting to create more problems in the room. “Let’s focus on getting you home first.” Don't startle him. You need to ease Jamie into any shocks that he might face. You don’t know if there’s anything else Jamie might have misconstrued due to his concussion. For all you know, the poor guy might forget another giant aspect of his life. He needs to rest. “Did you lot by chance take his car here?” 

Keeley nods quickly. “I drove it from the stadium. It’s parked out front.”

“Perfect,” you say, turning back to the man of the hour. “Jamie, is it okay if she drives it back to yours?”

“As long as I get to ride with you.”

Your heart rate strikes at his reply. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. “Good with me. Let’s get you home.”

The arrangement to take him home is simple enough, maybe even the easiest thing you have had to face since arriving. Jamie had already signed his discharge papers, and was free to walk on his own. He manages to look normal enough, but it’s a unanimous agreement for him to not drive on his own. Keeley is off to drive Jamie’s car back to his place, already knowing his new address. He bids goodbye to the rest of the group, and they offer their own forms of condolences (Roy’s is just a grunt).

“It’s a pleasure meeting you!” says Ted. “You’re gonna have to stop by Nelson Road sometime. You know, introduce you to the rest of the team.”

You fight a frown, because you shouldn’t. You probably won’t. But, hating to be rude to Ted, you reciprocate his hospitality with a warm smile. “I appreciate that. It was wonderful to meet everyone, even in these circumstances. I’m glad that Jamie is in the right hands.”

Ted nods solemnly. “Always. Now, go take care of that son of a gun!”

—

“Don't ever think I’ve ever been in your car before,” mumbles Jamie sadly. You’ve never been in my car. Or my home. Nor have I ever been to yours. 

You fight the thoughts running through your head, about to comment on his dejectedness, when you remember what Dr. O’Sullivan had said about Jamie avoiding sunlight. “Wait!” You open your glove compartment, shuffling through the various coins and junk inside until you find what you’ve been looking for. 

The sunglasses may not be what Jamie prefers. They belong to your younger cousin, Jolie. Sometimes you’re tasked with picking her up from school when your aunts can’t. Along with the task of picking her up and babysitting the six-year-old for a few hours, you often find things that she had left behind, or forgotten. You keep the hot pink cat-eye sunglasses for whenever she’s in your car and wants to put them on (they make her feel older). They may be a little small on Jamie, but you don’t care. His concussion is going to be treated attentively on your watch, whether he is okay with that or not. It’s the least you feel that you can do, considering roleplaying as his girlfriend isn’t exactly ideal. 

“Here you are!” you happily exclaim, unfolding the sunglasses, putting them on by yourself before he can get a chance to protest. 

The thing is, you truly don’t know what Jamie is like. You’ve had multiple interactions, but all so surface-level that it’s hard to tell if it’s a front he’s put up or not. For all you know—and for what you expect—he’ll take the sunglasses off and question why he has to wear that pair (toxic masculinity, and all that bullshit that you’re accustomed to from men). 

To your surprise, he doesn’t even make a move to adjust them. Instead, he moves the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. You giggle lightly as he moves his face around to observe his look. 

The sound makes him smile. “I look good. These mine now?”

You scoff. “They’re Jolie's, don't even think about it,” you reply starkly, not even thinking about the fact that he doesn’t know who Jolie is. 

For Jamie, however, that appears to be the first thing he thinks about. Because there’s a moment-long pause, and it feels very thick, before he replies, “Jolie?”

“Oh—my cousin,” you say plainly. You begin to pull out of your spot, checking your side mirror to see if any cars are coming by. 

You might’ve been driving for a minute, silently. You aren’t sure what to say because, again, this is not the type of interaction with Jamie that you’re used to. Besides, you figure that maybe the silence will be good since Jamie has spent god-knows how long in absolute worry and chaos. Your mind goes back to the soup on your stove. You had turned the heat off, and placed the lid on your pot to finish when you get home.

Jamie is the first to break the silence. He says your name slowly, almost embarrassingly. 

You furrow your brows at his tone, giving him a quick glance before laying your eyes back on the road. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Am I—“ he clears his throat, “Am I supposed to know about Jolie? Have we spoken about her before? I just don’t remember anything about her.”

You’re in shock for a moment, not expecting that question to come from him. 

You realize, at this moment, the weight of Jamie’s concussion. Not only is it going to be physically taxing for him to avoid doing certain things until he’s better, but the mental toll of feeling like he doesn’t remember things will also certainly pain him. He thinks that the two of you are together—meaning he expects himself to know aspects about your life that you two had never discussed before. 

Not only is Jamie a blank slate to you, but you are to him. 

The only problem is he thinks that the blank slate is wrong. 

“I’ve never spoken of her before, Jamie,” you say softly. 

You hear him exhale. 

“You don’t need to worry about forgetting, okay?” you add. “If I’m very concerned by anything you don’t seem to remember, I’ll be sure to tell you. And I’m sure everyone at work will do the same, as well.” You take a left turn, following the GPS on your phone back to your neighborhood. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. Patiently.”

A less-tense silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive. Jamie has his head leaning against the passenger window. You don’t need to see under the glasses to know that his eyes are shut, likely to gain as much rest as possible. 

When you finally arrive back at your neighboring homes, Keeley is already sitting on the steps that lead to Jamie’s door, his car parked perfectly in his usual spot.

After parking as close to Jamie's home as possible (you’ll fix your spot later), you move to open his passenger door, but he gets out by himself. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you off the edge of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Keeley smiles softly at the pair in front of her, extending her hands to give you Jamie’s set of keys. “Hey, guys!”

You smile back, quietly using the keys she just handed you to unlock Jamie’s front door while the two converse behind you on his current state. She worriedly asks him how his head feels, to which Jamie gives a very detailed explanation on how it feels like a giant is squeezing around his head with a pressure that can pop his brains out. 

“Gross,” mumbles Keeley. “Please go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jamie, “that’s what everyone’s telling me. Thanks for bringing me car, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. My payment requirement is—sorry to jam it—get some fucking rest.” She stands by the doorway as you and Jamie enter his house. “Roy’s a couple of minutes away. I’m gonna wait out here and contemplate stealing those peonies from that house down there.”

You pause. “… That’s my place.”

“Oh shit! My bad, babe. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything.”

You laugh. “Please, go ahead if you would like. I’ve been told it’s practically a forest.”

She laughs. “Maybe next time. Stay safe, yeah?” She’s walking down the steps as you both bid her a goodbye.

You smile up at Jamie as he guides you further down his hallway, and into the kitchen. He immediately goes into his fridge to pull out some water, chugging it down.

You stand in your spot awkwardly, watching as Jamie pulls the sunglasses further up when his head finally levels from drinking. “...Um, if you don’t need anything else, do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” you ask. You feel better now that Jamie is in the comfort of his own home. “I had food on the stove, and wanted to finish it up. I’ll have a bowl for you as well, if you’d like.” You already make a plan in your head to put it in an isolated thermos to leave on his doorstep so that he can still access it and have his alone time.

“But you’ll be back, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the thing he’s most sure of. 

You smile. “Then I’ll be back,” you reply, mind scrapping the doorstep plan. “With creamy vegetable soup.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says. He closes the fridge and makes his way to you. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting… maybe a hug at most. 

But your eyes shoot up as Jamie leans down, his lips puckering slightly as his face inches closer to yours. 

You instinctively place your hand on his chest, quickly stopping him from going any further. “Woah, wait.”

Jamie pulls back further immediately, his brows furrowing from above the pink sunglasses he wears. If this were any other situation, you’d find his look comical.

“What’s wrong, love?” he says so sweetly that you may feel sick, if the nickname isn’t enough to nearly make you faint. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly. 

You try your best to conjure up words for this situation, as well as trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the soft ministrations on your shoulder. “It’s just—we’re moving too fast. You’re moving too fast.”

“Huh?” replies Jamie quizzically, “Do we not… kiss?” When your eyes hold more panic, he makes the conclusion for himself. “So, we’re dating and we’ve never kissed? Am I a fucking idiot?” The last part is mostly to himself, and you backtrack immediately, rewiring your brain into thinking of a half decent explanation. 

“I mean… I don’t know. I just feel bad,” you say. “You have a concussion and don’t remember some things. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and make you do things that you might regret.”

Jamie frowns. “Why would I regret kissing you?” 

You wince, making the edges of his lips turn down even more. 

He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...Would it make you uncomfortable? If I kissed you?”

“It—“ you think about it for a moment. You don’t think kissing Jamie would make you uncomfortable at all. It is something you fantasize about, but only when you’re alone. And not under these circumstances. So, you reply truthfully, “I think it would,” because you just can’t find it in you to physically reciprocate affection that was never properly established in the first place. 

“Is it because I don’t remember our first kiss?”

There never was one. “… Yeah.”

Jamie looks off before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do everything in my power to remember,” he says surely.

Well, shit. It’s going to be very hard for Jamie to try and remember something that never even happened. You wonder now if you should just alleviate the guilt right now, and break the truth to him: you have never dated, nor even kissed once. Maybe the interactions you’ve had with him when handing over a batch of carrots seemed delusionally romantic in your mind, that’s not how it went at all. 

There’s a feeling in you that makes you want to take care of Jamie and make sure that he’s okay. The thought of abandoning him now feels almost cruel, he clearly trusts you enough to keep you around. 

Normally, this would be no issue. 

But with what you know, a heavy weight fills your chest.

[pinkyqily]

Lauren James x reader

Lauren spots reader at every game and every time before final whistle reader leaves, one time she tries to approach reader because that one time reader had stayed till the end of the game but when she approached the seats where she was sitting reader had disappeared, the girl's thinks she's making thing's up because they've never seen someone of the discription until the last game at Stamford Bridge...

(my thought process ran out so the ending is up to you 😭)

𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙍𝙊𝙒𝘿 - laurel james x reader

Summary: in which your girlfriend teammates think she made you up until recent games were they finally meet you.

Contains: fluff, suggestive

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to complete your request, and hopefully you enjoyed reading as much i did writing it, my request are opened so if you have any send em'. And as always feedbacks,reblog,likes,comments are always appreciated as they motivates me 🫶🏿

You and Lauren had been talking to each other for over a year now before she had asked you to be her girlfriend.

It was a heartfelt proposal, the moment you walked in your favorite coffee place that she had reserved just for the two of you made you speechless from the luke warm lights to the well homemade pastries and drinks along with the beautiful garden view.

Which was one of your favorite things about the cafe. Everything felt perfect at that moment. so when Lauren asked you to be her girlfriend even before she could get those words out, you immediately connected your lips to hers.

Which brings you to now every time Lauren would try and introduce you to her teammates something always happened that makes you leave early than expected. You would be in the stands wachting your girl and her teammates play, but every time before the final whistles blows you had to leave because something was always coming up.

The first time that it happened, you were at chelsea home game but had to leave due to someone breaking into your house as you had gotten a notification. from your homes alarm system indicating unknown activity.

which was a false call, It was your neighbors cat that had gotten through using the kitchen windows. Which lj understood, but that didn't stop her from all the teasing you'd get from her.

The second time, it happened you had to leave early around halftime because of a wardrobe malfunction and getting called back into work as you worked for a high journalism company.

Your girlfriend understood, but when she got home, she was the reason for a full wardrobe malfunction with your clothes,body, and bed.

And we'll today would be the third time that you had disappeared and Lauren's teammates had been giving her a hard time telling her that it was okay if she had an imaginary girlfriend even though you were hundred percent real to lj.

Why wouldn't you when she would come home combine her body heat to yours.

But that was not the case with lj and her teammates because after searching for you in the friends and family section, it was a no go as you had already left.

You on the other had had to leave your section because of the nois as you couldn't hear the other end if your cellphone call. But you were able to make it onto the field with lauren's brother reece, who had been waiting for you.

Seeing lj getting picked on her teammates and her about to head inside you quickly called out to her.

"Lauren baby wait up". You said loud enough for heads to start turning your direction.

Millie was the one with a shocked face following in the others who had a huge look of disbelief.

"Hey there, you thought you left me."She told you

"Office called, and it was getting way too noisy, and I had to move it outside."You told her.

"Wait, so you're actually real, and this one right here wasn't lying all this time when she told us you were coming." Sam voice spoke up.

"Well, I was at your last two games but had to leave due to technical emergency, so it definitely wasn't a lie, and I'm as real as it gets."You told her.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober 2024: Day 05

Kinktober Masterlist rara avis - "the rare bird" John Price x f!reader Kinks > yandere, NC voyeurism, stalking, rough sex Full tags on AO3 - MDNI

When you move to your new home, you are totally swept off your feet by the amenities. There are so many beautiful, wooded trails and a gorgeous creek for you to explore in your own backyard. Your neighbor, an avid bird watcher, mostly keeps to himself. However, you start feeling like you’re the bird being watched.

If you don't like what's in the kink list, don't fucking click on this story. You're not invited. Block me, and then.... Get. Fucking. Lost.

You had picked this place because of the view. Your backyard overlooked the most gorgeous, fairytale-perfect creek that you’d ever seen. In the morning, ducks and their ducklings played in the shallow bends and curves of the whispering brook, and at night, frogs and fireflies sang and danced to serenade you to sleep. It was heaven. 

So, that’s why you practically lived in your backyard. You were always outside gardening or weeding, laying by the stream with a spicy book, or swinging gently in your hammock, letting your toes skim the cold water of your very own oasis. 

Your swimming had started as a summer habit. After you finished your sweaty chores, you loved stripping down to your bra and panties to cool off in the little creek. The deepest part only came to your belly button, so it was more like a sit rather than a swim, but you didn’t mind. In fact, if you remained still long enough, little finches would sneak along the bank, keeping an eye on you while they hunted for bugs and seeds in the muddy shoal. 

Autumn brought cardinals and bluebird that roosted in the low branches of your trees, and a very vocal whippoorwill, all competing for their own spot in this obvious paradise. 

You weren’t much of a bird watcher, but your neighbor was. 

Captain John Price was some sort of legend. He had served in the special forces, or still did serve, but that was all classified. Your other neighbors had let you in on his intense background, yet no one had anything but the highest praise for his classy manners and charming smile. And while he did flash a beaming grin to the Smiths and the Broussards across the wide lane, he looked at you with a different sort of smile. 

The way he looked at you made you melt like a popsicle on a hot day. 

You’d gotten closer to the captain over the last year or so that you’d lived here. He had come over one evening because your pipes had burst in the freeze, and he knew just how to fix it. Over the course of the season, he’d sit outside and you would make excuses to chat with him. Once he had your attention, he’d point out all the different types of birds that flitted between his trees and yours, helping you recognize their calls. He’d bring his binoculars with him some evenings while he sat to watch the avian traffic, and he even let you peer through the lenses to see a nest of baby chicks in your own backyard. 

Then, he’d had to go away for “work”, so he asked you to keep an eye on the mail for him. He was only supposed to be gone for six weeks, but six more weeks passed before he showed up with ten stitches over his eye and his arm in a sling asking for his key back. 

When he saw your face fall in reaction to his wounds, he chuckled, the corners of his eyes creasing at their seams as he told his lies,

“Clumsy, me. Fell down the bloody stairs at Heathrow. Dunno what hurts worse, my arm or my pride.”

The wink that he tacked on at the end of his quip was Cupid’s thick-shafted arrow, striking you right in your heart. You were in trouble. This man was some sort of secret agent contract killer, and yet you found yourself replacing old boyfriends’ faces with his when you made yourself come at night, imagining him spreading you open instead of whoever had been your flavor of the month back then. Price might be the most dangerous man on Earth, but goddamnit, you didn’t care.

Over the following summer, your dark fantasies continued. He started working on his own backyard, putting up birdhouses and sharing facts with you about some of the local species he was hoping to host when you passed each other coming and going. Each day that you got to see him was a true gift, even if you didn’t really care about birding in the least. 

One particular afternoon was especially fruitful. The captain was out there all day trimming trees, cutting brush, and hacking back old growth… shirtless. His muscles gleamed like a hirsute Adonis, snapping and rolling under his skin like a symphony of strength. The way his tanned flesh gleamed in the sun made him look like he was carved out of bronze. 

So, you thought, two could play at that game. 

You bought a white bikini online and lounged in it the first day it came in, rocking back and forth in your hammock, hoping that you could catch a glimpse of him watching you with that savage look in his eyes. When you spotted him glance over at you from his garden, you knew your plan had worked. He would peek over his shoulder as he raked or shoveled, almost imperceptibly, but you were watching him like a hawk and you noticed every little breath and movement he was making. 

As the afternoon wore on, especially when you needed to apply more sunscreen, he fed you juicier and juicer morsels of his lustful longing. He would stare, when he thought you weren’t looking, at the way your heavy tits strained the lycra of your triangle top, and when you bent over, his eyes would scrape and claw for every curve of your plump ass before righting himself again before you caught him scavenging. 

At one point, you pretended to fall asleep, letting your book fall limply out of your hand and onto the grass, making your mouth soft and slack, just to see what he would do. To your shock, he pulled out his phone and began to take pictures of you, quick and efficient, pocketing his device before he even looked at the results. His audacity was shocking. Your mind raced with all of the thoughts of what he might do with your images, of how he might touch himself thinking about you, hungering for you and your tender body. 

A few minutes passed, and he continued to try and work, but it was futile. John started to walk over to you, moving through your shared backyard and making a steady advance on your position. As he got closer and closer, you tried to control your breathing, reminding yourself to be dead asleep, forcing your mind not to obsess over his enormous muscle-bound body or the dark fur that covered his skin, becoming denser and curling as it trailed below his belly button, pointing you to where you wanted to focus. 

He stood a short distance away for a while, and he seemed to be locked in a silent battle with himself. The captain wanted to attack and retreat at the same time. All the while, you noticed him shaking his leg ever so slightly, bending the knee and widening his stance. But, his shifting wasn’t working, and to your absolute joy, he finally relented and had to use his hand to readjust his growing cock. He pulled the body of it up and over his left hip, lovingly squeezing the tip just a bit before letting it go. You marveled at his girth, praying that the outline in his pants was truly representative of the absolute monster he kept inside of them.

Your neighbor allowed himself to step forward. And again. Slowly, step by step, he closed the gap, his eyes never leaving your face, worrying that you would wake up to find him leering. Yet, he didn’t care enough to return to his side of the yard. 

Shame, it seemed, was not a deterrent for his thirst. 

When he was close enough to touch you, he knelt down, studying your face. Then, his eyes began to drink you in, gazing at your breasts as they hung slightly to the side, their round shapes being pulled by gravity into smooth teardrops of sensitive flesh. His hands fidgeted with the wooden handle of his rake he was holding, wanting to touch the silk of your skin and test its fineness. 

Then, he trailed his vision along the midline of your belly, chewing on the inside of his lip as he studied your thickness. When he looked down at the join of your legs, staring at your fat pussy hidden under the thin fabric of your suit, his whole body sighed. You watched his bones sag and reset themselves, his jaw working through its hinge once and then twice as if he was chewing on cold mastic. 

Just when you thought he would reach out to touch you, or maybe snap another picture, he bent down a little further and picked up your fallen book. As he crouched there beside you, he flipped a few pages back and forth until he seemed to find what he was looking for. A twitch of a smile pulled at his full mouth, and he laid the book back on the grass, open to the scene he wanted you to discover. 

His eyes gave you one last look, wistful almost, and then he returned to his yard. Now, you just had to wait for him to look away for long enough that you could pretend to wake up from your nap. Luckily, he ducked into his shed for a moment, taking out new tools to use, and while he was busy organizing his equipment, you roused yourself from your farce. 

You were soaking wet. You could feel the slide of your desire between your soft lips, and your mind was buzzing with adrenaline.  

As casually as you could, you reached over and grabbed your book, tossing your bookmark into the page he’d kept for you, forcing yourself to wait until you were in the safety of your own home to see what he had wanted to show you.

You got up from your hammock and stretched, gathering up your belongings and making a slow but deliberate trek back indoors. When you noticed him looking over, you turned to wave, giving him what you hoped was a typical, neighborly smile. He smiled back but didn’t return the gesture, resting his hands on the handle of a long spade, watching you as you sealed yourself back indoors. 

The moment you shut the door, you opened the book, desperate to read the scene he wanted you to see. It was a raunchy moment for the main characters with the hero burying his face between his paramour’s thighs, eating his fill of her. Just the thought of John Price wanting to perform this scene with you was enough to make you clench your knees together with lurid want. You let your hand slip over the top of your swimsuit bottoms, and you teased yourself to a quick, vicious orgasm right in the middle of your kitchen, sinking down to the floor in a wet, inglorious puddle.

The next few days passed without incident. You weren’t even sure if he was home. But, one afternoon, you were both getting the mail, and he was carrying in a long box. It was about half as tall as he was, and it didn’t look lightweight. 

“Wow,” you raised your voice a bit to get his attention, “You’ve got quite the package.”

You hadn’t initially intended for the innuendo, but you weren’t mad about it. You even gave him a knowing smile, acknowledging the line. He chuckled, the sound of it creating a churning feeling deep in your core, 

“Telescope. Your creek had a kingfisher in it last week, and I’m hoping to see him again.”

“Oh, cool,” you walked a little closer, making your conversation more intimate, pretending to be interested in birds for once in your life, “Is that a rare bird?” 

His warm purr turned to a suggestive growl, soft and trapped in his throat, and the fire in his eyes made your blood run hot, but he wasn’t excited about birds. He was excited about you. 

“Aye, the rarest,” he nodded, pointing up to his main bedroom’s balcony on the second level, “I think I’ve got a decent view from there. This thing comes with a camera attachment, so I’ll try to catch him for you.”

“That’s really awesome,” you grinned, noticing that his balcony also had a pretty damn good view of your own bedroom window, “I bet you’ll get some great shots. Can’t wait to see them.”

“You bet,” he grinned knowingly, dragging his huge package back inside. 

That night, you watched him setting it all up, spying on him from your own bedroom window. He was fixing the telescope on your creek, making sure the angle was just right. So, you decided to make it worth his while. 

In the purple dusk, you found yourself walking out into your backyard in nothing but a thin mesh cover-up. It was barely enough to be publicly decent, but as soon as it got wet, you knew it would show everything. It took all your power not to glance over your shoulder at him as you stepped into the creek, but you kept your cool. Face forward, sinking slowly into the water for a quick dip. 

You settled into the stream, kneeling on the soft rocks, playing in the babbling waters, pretending to relax after a long day. You started skimming for pretty stones, leaning forward to wet the top of your cover-up, feeling the fabric cling to your peaked nipples, knowing they would be very much on display through the tissue-thin mesh. 

Unable to stand it any longer, you dared to glance up at the balcony. There, sitting behind his brand new scope, was your hot neighbor, staring through the lens trained right on you. A rush of desire hit you like a drug, and you made yourself bravely gaze into the lens, peering through the dark glass, knowing he would see you looking. 

Then, when he didn’t react, you pushed the envelope. You dropped the pretty rock you had in your palm and scooped up a handful of water between your hands, holding them together like a bowl. Then, you poured it on your neck, letting the cool liquid soak the rest of your top, making your garment entirely transparent and sticking to your body like latex. 

Every moment that passed made you more brazen. You began to trace the outline of your collarbone, rubbing the side of your neck, pretending to massage away the stress. 

Your eyes kept glancing to his spot, looking at him as he stared at you. This time, when you looked back, his body illuminated by his outdoor light, you saw something magical. His hand was stuck down his black, athletic shorts, and he was slowly jerking his cock back and forth, pleasuring himself as he watched you moonbathe in your stream. 

Now, you locked eyes with the scope, and you turned your body towards him, making sure he knew that this show was for him. You moved your hands to your hanging breasts, circling them and pressing them together, holding them through the wet mesh. It felt so nice to squeeze them and feel the pleasure you were crafting, so you began to play with your nipples, plucking them and pinching the tips, being gentle and cruel, letting your eyes and mouth soften as you teased your own body.

You wondered if he was taking pictures or not. Maybe a video? You didn’t care. You wanted him to take them. You wanted him to take you, if he would have you. 

When he saw evidence of your want, he pulled his cock free from his shorts, and now he was very clearly jerking off, using his precome to shine his shaft to a wet gleam. You wished you could taste it. You wanted to study the fullness of his head, suckling on the drooling tip, and you wanted to trace the veins of his shaft like rivers on a map, blue and full of his warm blood. 

Just the thought of how his fat dick would feel inside of you was sending you over the edge. So, you sank one of your hands between your legs to relieve some tension, massaging your clit in frantic circles under the water. You must have gotten lost in your own ministrations, because when you snapped back to reality and focused on the balcony again, he was gone. 

At first, your heart sank, disappointed that he was finished with your display. Then, you heard the slam of a door and looked down into his backyard. There he was, a tight white tee shirt stretching over his broad shoulders, his cockhead trapped in the elastic of his shorts, the outline of it visible as he walked, barefoot, straight towards you. 

You stared at him in shock, not knowing what to do. He looked like he was in a rage. His brow was set in a determined line, and a frightened thrill writhed its way along your spine. Was he angry with you for being so indecent? For teasing him with your lewdness? 

He said nothing as he approached, and you thought he would stop at the bank of the creek, but he didn’t. He came splashing right through the water, making his way right over to the spot where you were kneeling, reaching out and grabbing you tightly around your shoulders, lifting you out of the water in a wet, chaotic mess.

You were pressed against his body, getting his clothes all wet, gasping from the shock of his aggression. You started to protest, trying to get your footing, but his mouth silenced your words. John pressed his lips to yours in a ferocious kiss, invading you with his long tongue, and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough for it to sting. 

He pulled away and began to bite and lick his way down your neck, stealing your breath and stumbling through the creek as he devoured you, marching you backwards, awkward and halting, all the way to the shallow near the bank. Then, just when you could feel the pebbles give way to the sand and mud of the shoal, you felt him shove you to the ground. You landed hard on your rump, gasping from the violence of it, trapped somewhere between terror and ecstasy. 

“John, I wa–”

He fell to his knees and kissed your words away again, tasting you over and over, committing your flavor to memory, fisting your hair to control the way you kissed him back, stealing you from yourself like a thief. 

You were being covered, inch by inch, with his heavy body, and he leaned over you, kissing and sucking and licking and biting whatever his mouth could reach. He moved to your nipple, suckling on you through the thin mesh of your cover-up, the warmth of his tongue a stark contrast to the chill of the wet fabric. He stayed there for as long as he wanted, groping and pinching your other breast as he sucked on you, making you whimper from the overstimulation. Then, he sat back on his heels, his knees still stuck in the shallow water of the creek, your bodies half-in and half-out of the span. 

He was peering down at you and panting. You were both breathing hard, your chests heaving, staring at each other like a predator with its prey, not knowing which one you were but dying to be the latter. 

John seemed like he was waiting for something, and when you saw his eyes move down your body to stare at your pussy, you knew what he wanted. So, very slowly, you opened yourself up to him, unfolding your legs from your center, blooming for him like a dew-soaked flower, ready to present your sticky nectar to him. The sigh of relief that rattled through his body made you want to come. 

He fell to his chest, clutching your hips in his huge, strong hands, lifting you to his mouth as he began to eat you from the inside. His tongue prodded and curled, searching for your favorite spots, finding them with a suspicious ease. Licking across your clit, his mouth created wet, pornographic noises, and he groaned as he ate, unable to hold back his expression of pleasure with every brain-breaking suck and lick. 

When you cried out from the immediate response your body sent slashing through your belly, he looked up from his work, but he didn’t stop. His eyes, pale blue and feral, caught yours and something inside of them forced you to stay on him, unable to look away, trapped like a rabbit in a snapping snare.

His steady, forceful suckling dragged you to an orgasm, making you tremble and wriggle against his jaws, your body sliding in the muddy bank of the stream. You felt him pull away, and you thought he was done, the spell broken by your keening completion. But, he stripped off his shirt and raked the band of his shorts under his enormous sack, presenting his engorged prick to you like a present. 

Looking down at you, his eyes hooded, the pupils blown, you knew he was waiting again. Waiting for you to let him in. You were already spread open for him like a wanton whore, barely clothed and filthy from the ground. So, you reached between your thighs to cradle the underside of his shaft, petting him gently, tugging him forward in invitation. 

His nonverbal viciousness was making you feel like you were under his spell, so you dared not speak lest it could be broken. Wordlessly, you pulled him toward your dripping hole, coaxing him in, letting him know he was more than welcome in your body’s sacral embrace. 

A deep, demonic moan fell from his lips as he let his heavy cockhead slot itself between your lips. You took your hand away, returning to your breasts, playing with yourself just as you had in his telescope, letting him see you bring yourself pleasure at your delicate peaks. 

Hungry, he thrust himself forward through your folds, slipping in your wetness, the weeping slit of his tip bullying your clit with every forward motion. Back and forth, he slid through you, slicking himself in your flesh, using himself like a toy in your sensitive petals. 

You couldn’t help but whine for him. It felt mind-numbingly delicious to be played with in this way, and his rocking undulations drove you to the point of madness. You began to hump his shaft like a naughty dog, eager for everything he was giving you and more. His cock was big enough to be a challenge, but you were up for it. You didn’t care if it hurt. You wanted to feel him invading you, claiming you like an animal out here in the stream. 

Finally, when John couldn’t wait any longer, he allowed his head to slip down and notch in the pliant sling of your quim, moaning just as desperately as you had been as he felt you swallow his tip inside of your hole.

“Nhgh,” he clenched his teeth as he pressed his hips forward, his hand grabbing your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place so you couldn’t escape him, as if you wanted to, “Bloody hell, you’re so wet for me.”

You cried out as he pried you open, his heavy shaft too thick for your unpracticed slit,

“John… it’s so big… oh, God…”  

His grimace morphed into a smile, and he slid himself out before pumping forward again, trying to fit his thick rod into your cunt,

“Thought you could just give me a fuckin’ show. Thought I’d just watch, that I’d let you get away with it.”

He shoved himself forward, forcing a shrill scream from your lips, laying himself over you and trapping you between his arms. As he began to thrust himself into you, dragging himself out and punching himself back in, you felt hot tears sting your eyes with their salt, overwhelmed by the blinding pleasure you were experiencing. 

“Fuckkkkk,” you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head as he cursed at the feeling of your body clenching around him, stuck in the feeding-bleeding cycle of your shared bliss, “Rub that pussy for me, love.”

You obeyed, following his eyes as he watched your fingers make their little ovals in the plushness of your flesh. He groaned, pleased, and set himself to his task. As he fucked you, he began in steady, pumping thrusts. You could have kept time with his momentum, shocked by his consistency. He never faltered, he never weakened; he simply fed himself to you, in and out, stuffing you full of his hard length and rubbing at your softest, deepest places. 

Between his steady sex and your familiar touch, you were falling over yourself in an embarrassingly short time, your pussy already primed for pleasure, horny beyond belief, tingling and eager to throb around his shaft in celebration. He bent to kiss you on your sensitive neck, sucking against your skin, mean enough to leave a mark, whispering a chaotic mess of messages to you as he was lost in the thrall of fucking you into the dirt,

“Feel you wantin’ to come, pretty bird. Sing for me, yeah? Let me hear you scream for me.”

This couldn’t be real. His filthy talk was pulling you deeper and deeper into your mounting orgasm, and you felt the line snap. Your body began to tense up, your muscles tight and shaking, and you could felt the rush of your come coating you both from the inside. You were feeling completely unbound, and you had to stop touching your clit. It was too much, but he wasn’t having it,

“Don’t stop. Don’t… C’mere.”

He shoved your hand away and took over for you, fucking you and rubbing you, refusing to let you escape from his efforts. His touch flung you back into an orgasmic whirlpool, making you dizzy, tricking you into thinking you had finally stopped coming and then proving you wrong. He was dragging them out of you, ragged and nasty, moaning from your screams and from the gripping, pulsating tightness of your pussy. 

“That’s it. Such a pretty song. Keep singin’ for me, love. Makes me wanna fuckin’ fill you up with my come.”

“I’m… John, please… Mmngh!” You fell apart, your orgasm turning you into a brainless little fucktoy for him, your body betraying you, defecting to his side, willing to listen to his every command. 

He took his hand away, and you sighed in relief until you realized he had new plans for you. He pulled away, sitting back and flipping you over with frightening ease, helping you to your knees before feeding himself back inside of you from behind. Your chest was pressed down into the mud, the cold ground stinging your swollen nipples, the smell of the wet dirt heady in your nose. 

“Pretty bird. Look at this fat fuckin’ arse,” he grunted, slapping you hard on your right cheek. 

“Angh!” You cried out. 

“Perfect,” he smiled, showing you his sharp teeth as you stared at him over your shoulder. 

He hunched himself over your body, humping his fat prick into you like a dog, grinding himself into your hole with wet, milking noises filling the night air as he fucked you in the dark. John was pumping himself hard enough in you that you thought you might bruise. You knew your pussy was helpless to his invasion, and it trembled with every thrust, trying its best to flood you with your own lubrication, doing everything it could to help you cope. 

Frantic, John wrapped his hand around the base of your neck, holding you beneath him, pressing his hips even closer so he could reach his crown to new depths. The angle forced you to arch your back and he rewarded you for it, rubbing his hand along your ribs before reaching under your cover-up to hold your breast in his palm, gripping you fiercely. 

“Holy hell, this tight little cunt’s gonna make me come, baby,” he purred into your ear, bending himself over you, increasing his pace and his power, watching the pleasure-packed tears roll down your cheeks, “You want it? You want my fuckin’ come? Want me to put it right here?”

You felt his hand reach around your leg so that he could press his fist against your womb, making your body feel every inch of him even tighter inside of you, allowing you to know exactly just how deep he was rutting into you. 

“Please, John… I need…” You tried to answer, but you were fuck-drunk and dumb. You were nothing more than his cocksleeve. You were made for him to pump his load into you. That was all you wanted. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed. Your whole world fell away, replaced by your neighbor’s pounding rod. 

“Tha’s it, pretty bird,” he rolled his fist against your lower belly in deep, massaging circles, flinging you into a rolling orgasm, “The louder you scream, the harder I’ll fuckin’ come.”

His groaning turned into animalistic grunting, shouting, growling despair, and he sank himself down into you, flush with his girthy base, fully sheathed in your hot core. You could feel him filling you with his creamy orgasm, letting rope after rope shoot into your body, trapped inside by his thick root. 

John’s breath was hot against your cheek, and he kissed his way down your body as he pulled himself away. The long retreat of his shaft made you feel like your soul was being ripped from your chest, and the wet, gooey noise of his spend sliding out of you turning your heart inside out. You collapsed to the ground, not caring in the least about the mud, nor its cold, clinging, filth; you just breathed and trembled, used and spent. 

You thought he would leave you where he found you, his cruel love shaming him into fleeing such a scene of terrible waste. But, he didn’t. He shucked off his shorts and pulled your cover-up off of you, letting it slap down into the shoal. Then, he scooped you up in his arms and waded with you back into the creek, laying you in the running water, black with the night’s dark sky above you, cold against your sensitive flesh. 

You shivered, curling into him, and you felt his hands using the clear water to wash you clean. He was clearing the sand out of your hair and off of your skin, gently as he could, caring for you like a precious pet, baptizing you in his own praises. Telling you how good you were for him, how you were his pretty bird, how he would take care of everything. 

When he was done, he lifted you out of the stream and carried you to the yard, heading for his backdoor. He nudged it open and lifted you all the way up the stairs, single-minded on his mission. You were in and out of consciousness, too weak to protest, and when he finally lay you in his own bed, he wrapped you in a towel he pulled from his bathroom, using another to dry himself off as well. 

You groaned, trying to get up, but he lay himself on top of you, fidgeting with the covers under you were under him and the sheet, locked against his naked body.

“I should go… “ You whispered, trying to fight the sleep that was seeping into your mind. 

You felt the prod of his cock, hard once more, and you whined from the absurdity of your sore hole being asked to stretch again for him.

He pushed himself inside with little resistance this time, and started the process again, taking your primed body like you were made for it. Like it was your one, true purpose. 

“I can’t,” you whimpered, panting and curling against him, “Don’t make me come again.”

“Shh,” John said, kissing you quiet, “Hush, love. I’m not fuckin’ finished.”

 You couldn’t remember how many orgasms he had pulled from you, but when you woke the next morning, his arm wrapped tight around your breasts, you felt like you had transcended. You were on a whole new plane of existence, and although you were bruised, used, and soaking in his milky seed, you were well and truly satisfied. 

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw a picture of yourself come into view. You were on his nightstand, dressed in your white bikini, pretending to sleep with your book by your side. It was trapped beneath a pane of glass, gleaming in the dawn, surrounded by a proud frame. 

That’s weird, you thought. Framing it was a little odd. But, then, you saw the rest. All over his wall, the one that faced your bedroom, pictures of you covered the sheetrock like wallpaper. You stopped breathing. All you could see were pictures of you from every different angle and position. Some were of you getting dressed in your bedroom, and some were of you shopping at the store. Some were close portraits, and some were taken in places you didn’t even remember. They were everywhere, floor to ceiling, pasted very meticulously to the plaster. And you were in every one. 

You hadn’t realized he was awake yet, but you knew he had been watching you examine his gallery when his palm covered your mouth stopping you in the middle of your scream.

[peachetteprice]

A headcanon for Price of annoyed neighbors/bully to lovers? Maybe she gets in the way of a nice bird he was scoping out and discovers he enjoys the chase of someone who has more domestic mama bear tendencies? Love your works by the way! Beautiful!!!

I took John, neighbours, bird-watching, and enemies-to-lovers and ran with it. This is not in headcanon format - it's a teensy-weensy fic! Thank you for your patience, my lovely - let me know if I did your idea justice!

After the death of your father, you relocate to a sunny townhouse in a small city in the midlands. There’s an ample-sized back garden, fenced, leading onto an enclosed lake with a sign that says ‘no fishing’.

When feeding your first load of washing onto the line to dry, you hear the shutter of a film camera, and peek over your fence to spot a gentleman reclined in a chair, spying a bird in the trees. He seems relaxed, and the birds pose in front of his lens with ease – you wonder exactly how delicate they appear in his photographs.

You think little of him – other than that the sunlight brings out the specks of grey in his beard – and flap your towel as the next item on the line.

It scares away the birds.

From that point on, to make use of the sunshine, you make a habit of drying your clothes via the washing line. It becomes routine. The man prepares himself for the photograph he wishes to snap, you flap your towels, the birds flutter away, and his resentment towards your presence in the house next door compounds, until one day, you get the urge to peek over the rear fence, to no avail. No beach chair, no man in the beach chair, no sign on the edge of the lake that says ‘no fishing’. In its stead, there’s a poster tacked onto the face of a tree, and you open your fence gate to view it – in bold Merriweather font, it reads;

‘Preparation for Demolition begins: 27/01/2024’.

When you knock on your neighbour’s door to ask about the sign, the man is the one to open it. His name is John. He’s dressed handsomely in a flannel gown and slippers, clutching beneath one armpit the morning newspaper, folded precisely down the middle.

The council wants to fill the lake in with dirt and modify the land directly behind it to make way for additional housing, he notifies you begrudgingly, and you question if that’s why he hasn’t been out to take photos of any birds as of recent. He doesn’t reply and instead hands you a leaflet. There’s a town meeting within the week, a chance for residents to oppose the new site.

You attend. John doesn’t. You deliberate with the attendees and the representatives of the council, yet no conclusion is brought about, so as a collective, you make an appointment to deliberate again the next week.

When not in heated discussion, the shower in your upstairs bathroom runs cold, and that’s when you learn, instead of using his time to photograph birds, he now uses it to take hourly showers at the exact time as you take yours, at eight in the evening every other evening, and you're certain it isn’t by coincidence alone.

Council meetings continue week-after-week, creeping into January when the site is set to be filled in. Your shower time decreases to five minutes on a Wednesday and Saturday, for it’s the only times John is out of the house for you to get a moment to yourself, and a silent rage festers within your soul, curated specifically for the man next door who likes fried eggs in the morning, late night reruns of classic films and midnight strolls.

John doesn’t show up at any of the meetings, which you find odd, and you take to his doorstep to confront him about the reason why. He says he doesn’t think it’s necessary. You question him on this. He says he doesn’t think he needs to give his time up to a cause that has sufficient backing from locals. You question him further. He doesn’t think it is right to support a cause that has already been taken away from him by ignorant neighbours.

You don’t speak to him for days.

He exits his house to leave for work at half-six in the morning, and you leave the house at six, just to spite the additional ten minutes or so he might otherwise be able to stay sleeping. The council calls for a vote on the new site. As a last-ditch effort, in a blind panic, not wanting the next four years of your life to be dedicated to the sound of jackhammers and cement mixers, you storm out of your front door, along the pavement and up the steps to his house. You desperately need his help – he has photographic evidence of the beauty the lake holds, which certainly must account for something. He isn’t sure what help you mean, but you ask for it anyway (and apologise for ruining his bird-watching in the process).

Twelve residents attend the meeting. You all await the verdict on tenterhooks. At the last second, right when the commissioner of the project himself calls time, John shows up. He brings with him his photographs and the rest of the town’s citizens. The young, the old, expecting mothers and elderly couples who have lived in the town from their own infancy are all in attendance, and each eligible one of them signs the petition to remove the greedy corporate hands of Westminster from your little town.

Success.

The demolition is opposed – in its wake, it becomes a horticultural ground for wildlife, the local church during ceremonies and school trips for little tots in Reception and nursery. The town even gets its own segment in Countryfile. John decides to take up bird-watching again, photography included, and finds you on his doorstep, one evening, standing exactly as you stood the first time you met him. He draws in a breath – ready for you to chew him out. Instead, you hand him a tray of cupcakes that spell ‘thank you’ in green frosting, and he jokes that he doesn’t like frosting or indeed, cupcakes, but takes them anyway.

He asks about your next project, somewhat amused – it's an expression you have never once seen on his face before. The rejection of the demolition was a success, the local paper is pleased, and the town is seemingly reinvigorated with a sense of wonderment at what the boundaries of their new-found power could possibly be. You tell him it’s a secret.

Your next project?

Find out exactly what kind of a man John Price is.

| Masterlist |

[tetskuro]

𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍

content: it's not every day that kita becomes the mother of a dozen ducklings

warnings: fluff, timeskip!kita, gn!reader, established relationship

character(s): kita shinsuke

word count: 431

a/n: for the anon who asked if i could post something for kita again, here you go! he's very dear to me so i enjoy writing for him a lot

Growing up, Kita had always possessed a green thumb. He often helped his grandmother water her crops and gather the harvests, his love for flora blooming like the flowers he so admired. Even now, one of his favorite pastimes was gardening. Near the back of your shared house, there was a beautiful garden—neighboring a small pond—filled with ripe fruits, vegetables, and other greenery that Kita tended to. He could usually be found taking care of the plants early in the morning just as the sun peeked above the horizon before he would head to the rice fields for the rest of the day.

Today was an exception; the sun had fully risen, yet Kita still hadn't returned back for breakfast. Confused by his unannounced absence, you stepped out into the garden and witnessed him in quite an unusual situation.

Help me, his eyes pleaded when they met yours.

The sight was so absurdly cute that your first instinct was to laugh. About a dozen small ducklings were following Kita, their fuzzy tails swishing from side to side as they toddled behind their newly claimed mother. They seemed to have imprinted on your farmer boyfriend after seeing him so often in the garden.

Unfamiliar with handling animals as he mostly dealt with plants, Kita was hesitant on how to approach the situation. A serious expression settled on his face as he tried to throw the ducklings off his trail while also being careful not to trip over them as they crowded around his feet. You thought he oddly resembled a duck himself as he half-walked, half-jogged around the garden's green space.

Chuckles subsiding, you began surveying the area near the pond for the ducklings' mother. After a few minutes of playing one-sided hide and seek, you caught a glimpse of mottled brown feathers behind a particularly large rock.

"Over here!" you called out to Kita, gesturing toward the mother duck's hiding spot.

In a couple of quick strides, Kita reached you, gratitude and relief visible in his eyes. At the sight of their real mother, the ducklings chittered and clambered over each other, the morning ending in a happy reunion. The mother duck let out a seemingly appreciative quack and waddled away with her children in tow. A fond smile graced Kita's lips when he saw the ducklings enter the pond, swimming and chirping merrily.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and cleared your throat, an amused look plastered on your face.

"So, when were you gonna tell me that you're raising a dozen kids?"

for more works, check out my masterlist

© tetskuro 2024. please do not repost or modify my work.

[ironladle]

Tarot Card Legacy Challenge

Generation 1: The Fool

Pack Focus: High School Years, For Rent

Goals: 

Active, Outgoing, Adventurous

Master the Fitness skill to Level 10  by participating in school sports 

Complete the "Outdoor Enthusiast" or “Body Builder” aspiration, going on outdoor adventures with friends and exploring hidden spots in the neighborhood.

Collect all types of fish and insects in the neighborhood as a beginner angler and bug collector.

Achieve 10 charisma skill by making friends and socializing at school events and parties.

Gather collectibles like feathers and crystals by exploring secret areas around the neighborhood and completing after-school activities.

Romance: The Fool finds romance during high school, developing a crush on their lab partner or a fellow athlete. They navigate their first love through shy glances, secret notes, and stolen moments in between classes.

Generation 2: The Empress

Pack Focus: Dream Home Decorator, Growing Together

Goals:

Green Fiend, Family-oriented, Nature Lover

Master the Gardening skill to Level 10 by tending to the school garden and helping out,and personal garden

Complete the "Freelance Botanist" or “Super Parent” aspiration, selling home-grown produce and flowers 

Achieve Level 10 in the Parenting skill by babysitting younger siblings or volunteering

Collect all types of flowers and produce to create beautiful floral arrangements and healthy meals for the family.

Participate in neighborhood gardening competitions, showcasing the family's garden and winning prizes for their beautiful blooms.

Romance: The Empress meets their significant other at a community gardening event or through mutual friends. Their romance blossoms over shared interests in nature and sustainability, with romantic picnics in the park and stargazing under the moonlight.

Generation 3: The Emperor

Pack Focus: For Rent, Home Chef Hustle Stuff

Goals:

Handy, Ambitious,Outdoorsy

Master the Handiness skill to Level 10 by fixing up the family's rented home and helping neighbors with household repairs.

Complete the "Outdoor Enthusiast" or” Master Chef” aspiration, going on camping trips with friends and mastering the art of outdoor cooking.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill 

Collect all types of fossils and crystals during outdoor adventures and neighborhood exploration.

Establish a successful food business, selling handcrafted meals made with locally sourced ingredients.

Romance: The Emperor finds love at a neighborhood block party or while volunteering at the local soup kitchen. Their relationship flourishes over shared meals and cozy nights in, with romantic dinners cooked together in their food truck.

Generation 4: The High Priestess

Pack Focus: Crystal Creations Stuff, Realm of Magic

Goals:

Bookworm, Paranoid, Creative

Master the Spellcasting skill and unlock all spells by studying ancient tomes and practicing magic rituals.

Complete the "Spellcraft & Sorcery" or “ Archaeology Scholar” aspiration, delving deeper into the mysteries of magic and mastering potion-making.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill by experimenting with magical elements and researching arcane phenomena.

Collect all magical artifacts and tomes by exploring hidden caves and participating in magical duels.

Explore all hidden areas in Glimmerbrook and Forgotten Hollow to uncover ancient secrets and mystical creatures.

Romance: The High Priestess meets their soulmate at a magical gathering or during a séance. Their bond deepens through shared experiences in the magical realm, with romantic moonlit rituals and enchanted picnics in enchanted forests.

Generation 5: The Lovers

Pack Focus: My Wedding Stories, Get Together

Goals:

Romantic, Outgoing, Charismatic

Master the Acting skill to Level 10 by participating in school theater productions and joining drama clubs.

Complete the "World-Famous Celebrity" or “ Soulmate” aspiration, climbing the ranks of fame and hosting extravagant parties.

Achieve Level 10 in the Charisma skill by networking at social events and building a large circle of friends.

Collect all celebrity memorabilia and awards by attending exclusive parties 

Host extravagant parties and events in luxury penthouses, showcasing the glamorous lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Romance: The Lovers meet at a high-profile gala or VIP event, instantly drawn to each other's charisma and charm. Their love story unfolds amidst the glittering lights of the city, with romantic rooftop dinners and spontaneous adventures in the nightlife scene.

Generation 6: The Chariot

Pack Focus: Horse Ranch, Werewolves

Animal Lover, Adventurous, Independent

Goals:

Master the Robotics skill and build advanced robots to assist with farm chores and household tasks.

Complete the "Renaissance Sim" or “Championship Rider”  aspiration, excelling in multiple fields of study and expertise, including horse riding and animal training.

Achieve Level 10 in the Handiness skill by repairing farm equipment and maintaining the family's homestead.

Collect all elements and crystals to craft potent potions and futuristic inventions for the family ranch.

Travel to all vacation worlds and explore cultural landmarks and local traditions, incorporating new techniques into the family's farming practices.

Romance: The Chariot finds love in the countryside, meeting their partner at a local rodeo or equestrian event. Their romance flourishes over horseback rides through scenic trails and cozy nights by the fireplace.

Generation 7: Strength

Pack Focus: Cats & Dogs, Seasons

Animal Lover, Family-oriented, Athletic

Goals:

Master the Veterinary skill to Level 10 by opening a veterinary clinic and caring for pets and wildlife in the community.

Complete the "Animal Enthusiast" or “Friend of the Animals” aspiration, fostering strong bonds with animals and participating in pet competitions.

Achieve Level 10 in the Wellness skill by practicing yoga and promoting physical and emotional well-being for Sims and animals alike.

Collect all types of feathers and notes in a bottle, to create unique crafts and decorations for the family's pet-friendly home.

Participate in seasonal festivals and competitions

Romance: Strength meets their partner at a local animal shelter or while walking their pets in the park. Their love grows through shared adventures with their furry companions, with romantic picnics and sunset walks along the beach.

Generation 8: The Hermit

Pack Focus: For Rent, StrangerVille

Paranoid, Bookworm, Loner

Goals:

Master the Herbalism skill to Level 10 by foraging for rare plants and brewing potent potions to unravel the mysteries of StrangerVille.

Complete the "Paranormal Investigator" or “Strangerville Mystery”  aspiration, investigating strange occurrences and uncovering hidden truths in the mysterious town.

Achieve Level 10 in the Logic skill by analyzing evidence and conducting experiments to solve the town's supernatural mysteries.

Collect all types of artifacts and relics by exploring secret labs and hidden caves, documenting strange occurrences and encounters.

Investigate secret conspiracies and alien encounters, uncovering the truth behind the town's strange phenomena.

Romance: The Hermit finds love amidst the mysteries of StrangerVille, meeting their partner while investigating paranormal activity or sharing theories at the local diner. Their romance deepens as they work together to uncover the town's secrets, with late-night stakeouts and passionate debates over conspiracy theories.

Generation 9: The Wheel of Fortune

Pack Focus: My Wedding Stories, For Rent

Party Animal, Outgoing, Ambitious

Goals:

Master the DJ Mixing skill and become a renowned DJ by hosting epic parties and events in the community.

Complete the "Party Animal" or “Fabulously Wealthy” aspiration, mastering the art of socializing and bringing people together through music and entertainment.

Achieve Level 10 in the Cooking skill by experimenting with new recipes and hosting seasonal feasts and gatherings.

Collect all types of rare and exotic fruits and vegetables to create signature dishes and cocktails for their events.

Participate in seasonal festivals and competitions, winning prizes and earning recognition for their contributions to community spirit and celebration.

Romance: The Wheel of Fortune finds love on the dance floor, meeting their partner at a lively nightclub or music festival. Their romance ignites through shared passion for music and nightlife, with spontaneous dance-offs and intimate moments under the stars.

Generation 10: The Star

Pack Focus: Get Famous, Dream Home Decorator

Goals:

Charismatic,Ambitious, High- Maintenance 

Rise to stardom as a celebrity in the entertainment industry, pursuing careers in acting, music, or comedy, and gaining fame and recognition.

Develop culinary skills to create stunning dishes and desserts, showcasing talents through cooking shows or hosting celebrity dinner parties.

Utilize interior design expertise to decorate lavish homes and venues for celebrity clients, earning acclaim for their exquisite taste.

Master the photography skill to capture glamorous moments on red carpets, at exclusive events, and during intimate gatherings.

Utilize gaming expertise to engage with fans through live streams and gaming events, building a dedicated online following fascinated by their celebrity lifestyle.

Romance: The Star finds love amidst the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, meeting their partner at industry events, through mutual connections, or even on the set of a blockbuster film. Their romance plays out in the public eye, with paparazzi capturing their every move and fans speculating about their relationship. Despite the challenges of fame, their love remains strong, and they ultimately tie the knot in a star-studded ceremony, attended by fellow celebrities and broadcasted to millions of viewers worldwide.

Complete World-Famous Celebrity or Master Actor/Master Actress aspiration

-Slay, I will be fixing this challenge little by little.

#TS4TarotLegacy

[teapartyprincess4two]

Vampire- J. Guilbert (prologue)

pairing: Princess!reader x Vampire!Johnnie

classification: SMUT, fluff, slight angst, vampire AU

inspiration: request1, request2, Vampire by Johnnie Guilbert

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex; mentions of mortality, biting, blood, parental death, death, killing; set in 14th-17th century Renaissance, pretty modern dialogue tbh, sub!Johnnie (kinda?), use of Y/n

summary: You take your relationship with Johnnie, your vampire lover, one step further.

Vampire PT.1

—

Autumn leaves crunch against your shoes as you walk through the castle garden. Beautiful red and white roses line the outer walls, each one beginning to die due to the cold temperature the season has brought.

You take a fleeting look behind you, footsteps quickening as you follow the row of roses to the garden’s outer gate. If anyone were to see or follow you, you’d have to save your escape for another day.

Luckily, no one is watching. The guards are too busy patrolling the front of the castle, your father is in a neighboring village, Bernadette is completing her chores, and your mother is deeply immersed in literature in the castle library.

Your hand pushes against the big, rusty gate. You hold your breath and wince when the metal creaks, examining your surroundings one last time before slipping through the crack.

The ground is soft, dead leaves and fog hiding your feet as they trudge through the mud.

“Johnnie?” you whisper shout, your delicate hand supporting itself against a tree. No response, just a howling gush of wind.

You decide to hike further, knowing that Johnnie hates meeting you close to the castle. After walking for some minutes, you find yourself in a clearing.

Moonlight shines through the gaps between the branches and the meadow’s bioluminescent moss glows with every footstep.

“Johnnie?” you try again, only raising your volume slightly.

You wait for a response, or to see his figure approach from within the forest, but all you hear is a coyote crying in the distance.

Every 3 days you venture out into the forest. Sometimes he shows, sometimes he doesn’t; it’s something that he’s explained to you time and time again. He’s a vampire, viewed as a predator by the rest of the world, and when he has villagers coming after him it just isn’t safe to meet you.

He’d never forgive himself if anything ever happened to you, and you know that, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

You’re about to give up and walk back home, when cold fingers swoop your long hair to one side. Johnnie’s lips find your skin, trailing kisses from your shoulder to the soft spot behind your ear

“I’m here, Princess,” he murmurs.

A smile forms on your face as your head falls back onto his shoulder. His arms have wrapped around your waist, holding you in place firmly as he continues feathering kisses all over your exposed skin.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” his breath fans against you, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve missed you more,” you reply, and it’s true.

You turn to face him, warm hands delicately landing on his face. He’s so beyond beautiful, especially under the soft moonlight.

Your eyes dance over his face, watching as his fangs twinkle when he smiles. Most women would be running away in fear at the sight, but it only makes your knees buckle.

“3 days is too long.” His voice is still quiet, almost like he’s afraid someone is lurking nearby, ready to save you from a monster like him.

“You could just come visit me in the castle after everyone’s fallen asleep,” you suggest. His face was slowly inching towards yours, but he stops in his tracks at your comment.

“Y/n,” he warns, using your actual name instead of a pet name.

“We’ve been over this.”

“I know— it’s just— I miss you.” The last part sounds more defeated than you’d like.

“It’s not like we have forever, you know,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around your waist for some comfort. He knows that your time together is limited, and he hates that you’re constantly reminding him.

“Don’t start this again. Please,” he pleads. You only have a few hours together before the sun rises and he’s forced back into hiding, he doesn’t want to spend those fleeting moments arguing.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking slightly at the end. You’re close to breaking down into tears and he knows it.

“Y/n.” He pulls your gaze to his by your chin. Your eyes are glossy, a heartbreaking sight.

“I promise it won’t always be like this,” he says, not breaking eye contact. You’re not sure you believe him, mainly because of the ticking time bomb that is your mortality, but you want to believe him.

“Promise?” Your eyes hold so much hope.

“Promise.” He pulls your face in, finally kissing you after what seems like forever.

It’s slow and passionate, your lips moulding together at a steady rhythm. His hand holds a firm grip of your face, the other resting on your hip and pulling you closer to him.

You’re wearing a simple dress that contrasts your usual, elaborate gowns. So, as he pulls you in, you feel his erection pokes your lower abdomen. Subconsciously, his hips grind against you and a strained sound escapes his throat. He pulls away from the kiss, forehead flush against yours.

“What’s wrong?” you asks. His hand still holds your face and yours travels up to hold it, caressing his skin with your thumb.

“I should just— you should just go home,” he says, attempting to pull away from you completely, but you manage to keep him there. It’s surprising how someone so strong can be so weak when they’re in love.

“What? Why? We still have a couple hours left before the sun rises.”

“Because it’s dangerous out here. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You roll your eyes. “No one is out here, Johnnie.”

He’s quiet. His mind his racing as he fights against his sinful thoughts. What he wants is to make love to you under the soft moonlight, but he’s worried that once he gets a taste of you, he won’t be able to control himself.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” you say, pulling his hand off of your face to place gentle kisses on his knuckles.

“I’m just… I’m scared,” he admits. It’s an embarrassing confession coming from him, someone who doesn’t have to worry about anything other than what his next meal is gonna be.

You urge him to continue with your eyes.

“You do things to me that I can’t explain. I feel things that I’m not sure I can control when I’m around you.” Confusion is written all over your face.

“Here.” He guides your hand down to his erection, letting it cup his member over the fabric of his pants. “That’s what you do to me,” he gulps, struggling to hold himself back.

The feeling of your small hand wrapped around him is already excruciating enough, and the images that his imagination creates don’t help either.

“Johnnie,” you begin, already sounding breathless. A wetness grows between your thighs, and they subconsciously press together to relieve some tension.

“You’re not going to hurt me.” He appreciates the reassurance, but he’s still uncertain.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he replies through gritted teeth. His eyes clench shut when you begin massaging him, dick twitching and begging for release.

“Let me make you feel good. We can stop if it becomes too much,” you whisper, inching your face closer to his until your breath fans against his lips.

Your lips are ghosting his, barely grazing as he replies, “What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t.”

Finally you close the gap between you two, opening your mouth to give him the access he’s been craving. It’s a sloppy, needy kiss fueled with passion and hunger. Your tongues battle for dominance, each lap mixed with moans and whimpers.

There’s a large tree stump in the middle of the clearing and you slowly guide Johnnie towards it by his hips. He walks backwards until his calves hit the bark, knees bending, causing him to sit.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you like you’re his most prized possession as he stares up at you in awe. “I’m in control, okay?” you say, kissing him again before allowing your dress to fall past your shoulders and onto the ground.

Immediately, he tenses, feeling his animal instincts overcome him. The hunger is painful, so painful that his grip around you tightens. You’re not wearing a bra or panties, a beautiful sight that causes his pupils to dilate.

“Hey, look at me,” you say gently. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Johnnie nods his head, allowing his eyes to dance over your body. You’re so beautiful; your round breasts bouncing slightly with your every movement and your curvy hips swaying as you position yourself between his thighs.

He can’t take it anymore, he needs to taste you. You gasp as Johnnie suddenly takes your left nipple in his mouth, gently sucking and licking on your sensitive nub.

“I really, really need you,” he rasps against your skin. “I know baby. I know,” you reply through a strained moan. Your hand finds his hair and pull him impossibly closer to you.

His lips travel from your nipple to the valley of your breasts, kissing licking his way down to your belly button. “You’re so beautiful.”

You’re about to reply but his mouth feverishly makes its way back to yours before you can, engulfing your lips in a steamy makeout session that has you whimpering. You can feel him trying to take control, and if you want this night to go well, that can’t happen.

So, you make work of his pants and underwear in between kisses, tugging at the fabric until it pools on the ground around his ankles. His penis springs free, slapping against his stomach.

“Remember who’s in control,” you remind him through the kiss.

He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead against your chest as he attempts to compose himself; to measure his strength as you two venture into uncharted territory.

You play with his hair, giving him the time he needs before pushing him back onto the tree stump until he’s laying on his back. Slowly, you crawl over him until you’re straddling his lap.

You lean down to his ear, placing a few open mouth kisses on the nape of his neck as you whisper, “We’re gonna take this slow, okay?”

“I—” he begins, cutting himself off.

“We can stop if you want to.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he says, “and that’s the problem because…”

“Because if I were to hurt you, Y/n, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself. I’m struggling to keep my composure and we haven’t even done anything yet. If I get too carried away, pull me back into reality with you. Please,” he pleads the last part, tentative hands coming to rest on your hips. His touch is gentle, but firm.

You don’t respond, instead you nod your head and take his cock into your hands, dragging it up and down your slick folds before lining it with your entrance. His grip on your waist tightens as you begin to sink down on him, he clenches his jaw and watches tentatively as you take him without complaint.

A small moan escapes your lips at the stretch, your hands falling onto his chest for support. His skin is ice cold, a sensation that you quickly welcome. Johnnie fights to keep his composure, teeth digging so far into his lip that he’s drawing blood.

“Ready?” you ask sweetly. Johnnie responds by bucking his hips upwards, ensuring not to get too lost in the feeling.

He’s amazed that someone as delicate as you can hold this much power over him. He’s putty in your hands, he can’t remember the last time he felt this submissive.

You take the hint and begin moving up and down on his cock, bracing yourself with hands on his chest and knees on either side of his hips.

Johnnie’s grip on your waist is getting impossibly tighter, and if you weren’t so immersed in the pleasure, you might’ve registered the pain.

Your boobs bounce with your every movement, placing Johnnie in a lust filled trance. Your hair falls over one of your shoulders, swaying back and forth under the soft moonlight.

“Sit up please,” you command, your voice strained. Johnnie does as he’s told, and immediately you guide his face towards your breast. He’s hesitant at first, but the look you give him is enough to convince him that he can keep himself from taking a delicious bite from you.

His lips wrap around your left nipple as you continue bouncing up and down on his member. He’s completely lost in the euphoric feeling of you wrapped around him, a strong arm tightening around your figure.

“Johnnie,” you moan, your voice bringing him back to reality. He loosens his grip and brings you in for a kiss, drunkenly moulding his mouth against yours as you continue whimpering into his mouth.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for entrance so he can taste you. One of your moans serves as the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue in your mouth, drenching you like his existence depended on it.

Your tongue grazes one of his fangs, cutting you just enough for him to taste your blood. You feel the prick, but continue bouncing on his cock without paying too much attention.

“You’re doing so good, just like I knew you would,” you speak into the kiss. He loves the praise, especially because he just tasted your blood for the first time and can easily say he’s already addicted to

The position you were currently in was amazing, but your knees were starting to hurt and you really wanted to see what he’d look like from on top of you.

You hop off of him, earning a wince from him from the lack of contact. You lay back on the tree stump, innertwining your hand in his as you guide him over you. He follows your lead, immediately returning to the heated makeout session from before.

Slowly, he positions himself between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly. This position gives him all the power, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself even if you try pulling him back to reality.

But you’re not scared of him, you never have been and you never could be. “Yes, my love. I’m sure.”

He looks beautiful on top of you, everything about his dark aura luring you in. Johnnie slowly sinks himself into you, one of his hands gripping the edge of the tree stump. The bark is rough against his fingers as he applies a pressure so powerful that it cracks the aged wood.

His thrusts are slow at first as he tries setting a manageable pace, but as he continues his eyes cloud with lust and desire and he begins pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping together and your moans echo through the forest, his tip kissing your cervix every time.

His forehead is flush against yours. Johnnie loves you so much and it’s evident in the way his red eyes never break eye contact, despite the intensity of his movements.

He’s fighting against his strength to stop himself from breaking you in half, because if he really wanted to he could.

You keep bucking your hips into his as you chase your pending orgasm. Johnnie’s head falls onto your shoulder, grunts and groans fanning against your neck as his other hand pushes your hips down.

Your skin was sure to bruise, but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the feeling of his pelvis rubbing against your clit, bringing you dangerously close to your climax.

“I’m close!” you squeak.

Johnnie continues to snap his hips into you, fangs grazing your skin ever so slightly. He wants to do it; to take a bite of you, but he’s willing himself not to.

You wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him in until all he can do is roll his hips against you. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm washes over you.

The feeling of your spongy, warm walls clenching around him is enough to send him over the edge. His unmatched strength breaks yet another piece of the tree. He needed to occupy his mouth, so he’s latching onto your neck and sucking until the skin is bruised.

“I love you,” he murmurs through his orgasm, repeating the sentence so many times that it’s engraved in your mind.

Your voice is choppy as you try catching your breath, “I love you too.”

—

The next morning you wake up on a comfortable mattress surrounded by expensive pillows and a billowy comforter, but you wish you were still in the forest with Johnnie.

The night replays in your mind as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. A yawn escapes your lips as you stretch.

Suddenly you feel a throbbing pain on your waist. Your fingers trail down to the sensitive skin and you wince once they make contact.

Slowly, you throw the comforter to the side and walk over to your vanity. You bunch the fabric of your nightgown up against your breasts as you examine yourself in the mirror.

Your skin was lined with bruises so purple they were almost black. Quickly, you adjust your dress and make a mental note not to let Johnnie see them. You wouldn’t see him for another three days anyways, that was enough time for you to heal, right? Wrong.

Three days have passed and your bruises have only become more sensitive. They’re easy to hide when you’re home, mostly because you wear dresses so big that no one would ever notice them. The hickeys on your neck were masked with makeup and hidden behind your long hair.

You decide to stay home, because you know that Johnnie will somehow find out about the secret you hide under your clothes.

Just as you’re getting ready for bed, a sudden gush of wind blows past you. Johnnie enters through your bedroom window, looking around your room in a panicked frenzy until his eyes land on your figure.

“Johnnie?” you question in surprise. “Thank God you’re okay,” he sighs in relief, immediately walking over to you.

“You didn’t come to visit me,” he whispers sadly, “Why?”

When he waited in the clearing, and you never appeared, his mind raced with every and any possibly. Did someone hurt you? Was your kingdom under attack? Did you regret that night?

“I’ve just been really tired,” you say. It’s a lame excuse, but you hope he believes it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Johnnie’s hands land on your hips. You immediately wince, but try masking it with a cough. It’s no use though, he notices right away.

Johnnie bawls the fabric of your nightgown in his hands, ready to expose whatever you’re hiding. “Wait! No, Johnnie—” you try pushing him away, buts he’s so strong that he barely moves.

He wastes no time in lifting your nightgown, revealing the bruises that he left on your skin just three nights ago.

“I promise they look worse than they are,” you try and reason, but he’s not hearing any of it. His jaw is clenched, eyes trained on the horrific colors that blend across your skin.

“Never again,” he grits, letting the fabric of your dress fall back down. It felt like a shameful curtain, you wanted to rip it off and crawl into bed.

“What?!” your voice cracks.

“You heard me. Never again. If that’s what I did with my hands, imagine what would’ve happened if I lost control.”

“But I can take it—”

“Yeah? You think you’ll be saying that when my fangs inevitably find their way to your neck?” he snaps, his tone so harsh that it slaps against your ears.

“So then turn me,” you reply. Everything always seemed so simple to you, but becoming a vampire wasn’t something he ever wanted you to experience.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“Why not, Johnnie? Huh? Why not? Are we just going to continue having this same conversation until the day I die? Do you think I asked for the bruises? All I wanted was to love you, but if I’m going to continue getting hurt then why not just turn me?”

He remains silent, watching as the tears brim your eyes.

“I can’t live in a world where I don’t get to love you, to properly love you,” your voice is hushed, tears streaming down your face as you sit on the edge of your bed. “It isn’t fair.”

“I’m a monster, Y/n. All I do is hurt everything and everyone I love. Trust me, you don’t want to love someone like me,” he spits. His words completely contradict what he truly feels.

“I didn’t ask to love you, Johnnie. I just... do.” You sound so defeated.

He sighs, kneeling front of you and trying to catch your gaze. “I love you too, Y/n. That’s why this hurts me so much. I don’t want to be the reason for your pain, even if it is accidental. I want to protect you so that I can love you for as long as possible. Do you understand that?”

“Then love me,” you plead, “What’s the point of protecting me if you’re not staying true to your promise? We’re running out of time, Johnnie. Everyday I wake up a little older and a little closer to death, so please just love me. Love me despite our differences. Love me even if you think I’m weak.”

You bring him in for a kiss, one that is so passionate that he can’t find it in himself to pull away. You lean back onto the bed, pulling him with you until he’s laying on top of you.

“Princess, please.”

“Just love me.” You murmur against his lips, and just like that he’s making love to you under the soft candlelight that illuminates your room.

From that moment forward, Johnnie has vowed to love you everyday like it’s your last.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: thanks for being patient with me guys, ily! Also I hope you enjoy this anon (requests are linked) I haven’t proofread this so be gentle with me guys 🥹 I’ll proofread it mañana

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Part 2 of the one shot.

Warning. Smut!

Yandere Norman Nordstrom x Younger Female Reader

Kidnapping and obsessive love.

Romance. Women loves romance. Norm smiled at the thought of you blushing and giggling. Maybe if he goes to the store and gets some fresh red roses. He doesn't use candles since he doesn't really care about perfume scented air much. So, he should get some too at the arts and crafts store.

Watermelon or strawberry scented candles. Both would be nice. Nodding in determination, Norm sat inside his Lamborghini and then suddenly an emergency alert came from his cell phone. Out of fear, it showed you running away from the mansion as you destroyed the bathroom window. All his windows were bullet proof except the window in the bathrooms because sometimes his security dogs would jump over them to come inside the mansion.

You slick cunning cock!

Gritting his straight teeth in anger, Norm drove as fast as he could while watching his cellphone screen. You were running across his large front garden so you can reach his neighbor's mansion.

He can make it. He then realized how dark it was and that the full moon gave him advantage to spot you from the distance.

Ungrateful bitch. He didn't rape you or hit you minus the times you attacked him. Like biting his tongue when he was trying to French kiss you. Or when you kneed him in the balls. Ouch. That Fuckin' hurt. It didn't hurt as much as the pain inside his chest. You broke his heart again.

You collapsed on your knees from all the running. Tch. Pathetic Norm thought. You were so damn spoiled and weak that you never exercised unlike him. You were not averagely healthy or athletic. He doesn't need his car. Norm turned off his car and jumped out and ran at full speed.

"Huh?" You looked over your delicate and frail shoulder to see your kidnapper! How did he find out?

You tried to get up but he tackled your lithe and supple body hard against the grass floor hard. You tried to scream but suddenly, he slapped you!

You yelped in pain and then stared up to see his handsome face looking at you in anger.

You clutched your face despite making the pain worse. You froze your resistance and then silently sobbed. You didn't want to make him more mad by crying loud so you tried to hide your hiccups but it was no use

Norm's beautiful blue eyes widened in shock. He stared at the back of his hand in disbelief. He hit a woman and not only that. The woman he loved.

He watched in pity as you slumped and didn't fight back as you cradled your injured cheek. If he wasn't sure ashamed of his harshness he would have thought of you trying to be quiet from crying oddly cute.

But, now he felt regret. Without a word, he slung you over his muscular shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you didn't kick or wiggled like the previous times you ran away but was captured.

You gave up.

And he knew.

He didn't mean to break your spirit. But, you were so scared to give him a chance. That was all he wanted.

He went to the entrance of his mansion greenhouse at the center of his front yard garden. He kicked the door open and slammed you down on the floor to sit on your ass. You hissed in pain.

You looked up to see his powerful figure fuming and looking down on you. "Why?" He hissed through his teeth. "I gave you all my love yet you reject me. Why do you resist me? I'd die for you."

Your lips trembled in fear. Norm wasn't having it. He clenched his jaw.

"Why!?" He roared.

You flinched. "I..." You hiccuped and felt tears down your beautiful sculpted cheekbones. "I can't love someone I fear."

You saw that your words hurt him. A Navy Seal was wounded by a weak and spoiled lady like yourself. How strange.

"You don't get it, do you?" Norm's voice cracked as he looked away for a second and then you saw his saddened expression. Your heart burned at the sight.

"I love you, Dammit!" He punched the glass wall of the greenhouse. You yelped. You saw the glass shatter and his fist bloodied. "My life was better before I realized you exist. You ruined my life!"

You sniffed. "I am sorry, Norm." You looked at the ground.

Norm sighed in exhaustion. He then crouched down on one knee to your level and grabbed your chin gently despite smearing your chin with his blood from his injured fist.

You blinked in curiosity. He smiled a little as he unbuttoned his shirt. You couldn't help but stare. His top body was carved like Roman sculptors of Ancient Greek Gods. Ares especially. The God of war.

Holy shit.

You ogled. Norm liked that look on you. He knew you were getting horny. But his body was not all he had to offer you.

There across his chest was bold calligraphy letters of your name. How long was it there?

He did all this for you? He was serious about you.

He grabbed your hand gently and placed it over his heart.

It was dominant and strong like his body and personality.

"I can't control the pace of my heart whenever I think of you. Pity me at least." He pleaded you with large puppy blue eyes.

You felt your womanhood wetten and your throat dry. Is this love?

Norm was waiting for your response. To his surprise and pleasure you leaned your beautiful face close to his pink dry lips.

"Same." You whispered.

Norm couldn't believe his ears. This was a dream come true. You kissed him. Holy shit.

Without a second, Norm kissed back with fever and he grabbed your head and lashed his tongue inside your mouth.

"You're mine now." He ripped your nightgown off. Surrounded by plants in the open air being watched by the full moon was a fairy tale where you lost your first time.

After done, Norm carried you bridal style to the bedroom he shared with you and while you were spent, he drove to the emergency room for stitches.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Planting

A/N: it's been a hot minute, but not dead! I hope you enjoy this. This is the first fic centered on darsas in the husbandry verse!

Link to darsas' husbandry fic collection page

Summary: You give your bonded death guard, Darsas, a little gift.

Warnings: none, ask me to tag if something bothers you.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

You find Darsas. As he so often is, arms deep in your garden, softly humming to himself, the bioluminescent stripes on his armor gently glowing and flashing in tempo to the song that he is singing.

He pauses in his singing, his armored gauntlets dirty from the rich, dark soil that you'd purchased for him to supplement the clay-filled soil that your home was built on. He's never removed his armor in your presence - and from what research you've done on Chaos Marines, he likely can't. But you can tell that he's smiling at you as you approach.

There is a soft buzz, as usual, as he speaks “Good morning, my flower. Did you sleep well?”

It is mid-morning, with the sun warm and high in the sky, with the occasional fluffy white cloud skating by, as a gentle breeze stirs through the immaculate garden that Darsas lovingly tends to.

There are flowers and bushes of every description (except for roses. For some reason, Darsas hates roses, despite their thorns not being enough to pierce his armored gauntlets) and the saplings he has just finished planting promises to grow into beautiful dwarf apple trees. Alongside them he has planted mint, chives, coriander and lavender. Several fennel bulbs lay on the ground next to him, waiting and ready to be planted.

You smile up at your kneeling marine - even at half his height, he's still so large… But he is a gentle giant. You smile and kiss his helmet before answering “I did sleep well, Dar. I've also got you a gift.” Your hands are behind your back, hiding the long green-stemmed, multi-white flowered plant with bright yellow stamen.

Darsas let's out a curious trill, his glowing green eyes brightening a little “A gift for me? Oh, you spoil me, my radiant blossom!” He shakes the dirt from his gauntlets and turns, still on his knees as he gathers you up in a tight but gentle hug. You hear the soft click of his lower helmet opening as he presses happy kisses to your cheeks and lips, a happy purr rumbling from his chest.

You giggle at his eagerness and kiss him back - his lips larger and more scarred, but as always, almost feverishly warm as you do so. “I love you too, my handsome garden bug.” You hum, leaning into his touch.

His purr only intensifies as his form curls around yours. His voice is ragged and nearly worshipful as he slides into a language you do not understand, pressing more kisses to your cheeks and neck.

You're happy to let him cover you in kisses, kissing him whenever his lips find yours. You gently prompt him as the chamomile plant in your hands grows heavy “Would you like to see your gift, Darsas?”

He pulls away just far enough to nod, content to hold you close and purr. His bioluminescent stripes glow bright when you bring out the chamomile plant “Thank you, my beloved. I will plant this in a place of pride and care.”

You smile adoringly at your sweet Death Guard as he gives you one last quick cuddle before he starts to pick a good spot for the chamomile to grow. Why your neighbors are so nervous of your large, friendly love bug you'll never know. Then again… Chaos Marines don't have the best reputation, and Darsas, bless him, hates bathing and is on the more obviously mutated end of the spectrum.

[rosebudprincess]

🪽royal musings

it’s the eve of the Queen’s birthday and a grand ball is in order. With this, plans to find the princess an eligible suitor is set as well. The dearest princess dances, one suitor after another. Only to get bored and retire to the refreshment table, sparing polite glances and short acknowledgments to nobles from all across the kingdom.

In the corner of her eye, she spots them. Her knight in shining armour, but only she is aware of this title. Her knight, always on guard and on watch around their princess. The knight spares their princess a glance, a subtle nod before looking back away into the ballroom.

The princess isn’t aware of how much they long for her, how underneath their armour they wish to be her last dance of the evening. The knight does not know how much she wants for them to whisk her away into the night, walk around the moonlit gardens and speak softly into each other’s ears.

Dearest princess returns to her throne, next to the King and Queen, releasing a somber sigh as she sits down. Her countenance drawn, her demeanor much more shy and reserved than when the night started. The Queen holds her hand, giving it a squeeze before getting up and slowly making her way towards the knight. Though the ball had been an opportunity to match her daughter with a suitable prince from a neighboring kingdom, she wasn’t blind to the pining that was shared between the two. She could see her own mother whisper down to the knight and watched as she walked back to the throne.

Moments later, the knight arrives to the her side. “Dearest princess, I am to escort you out of the grand ballroom at once. It is quite late in the evening, shall we?” Her mother gives her a knowing glance before she rises and leaves with the knight.

The evening is quiet, and from the large stained glass windows, one could see the moonlight piercing through. No words are exchanged till the princess sighs and turns to them. “I don’t find myself tired yet, may we walk through the gardens?” she asks, “the weather is nice tonight and I’d like to stare at the moon for a while.” The knight only complies, leading them through the castle halls, “of course, my princess.”

In the royal gardens, lined with rows of rosebushes and hydrangeas, surrounded by trees of wisteria, the two find themselves seated inside the glass gazebo. Arms interlinked, the princess sits quietly, watching the moon as if it was speaking to her. The knight watches her, examining just how the moon lights her skin. In this garden, she is the most beautiful flower of them all.

Mustering up their courage, they unlink their arm with hers. “Princess,” they clear their throat as they get up, “a lady of your status has no reason to dance with a lowly guard but…” With this, she looks over at them, standing tall and proud with a shy grin. “May I be your last dance tonight?”

Perhaps the moon had listened and to each other’s delight, find one another exactly where they wished to be. Taking their hand in hers and holding her waist securely, the two dance into the quiet evening. A midnight waltz for the two to enjoy.

[littlepadika]

Little Duck Goes to Market

Pero Tovar x Reader(Patitia), mention of ddlg, how they met

Hope you enjoy, my patitas! 😘 unedited just vibing :)

The first cool breeze of the summer slid in through the cracked window of the truck as you and pero went into town. It had been a particularly good harvest which meant you and pero were taking the surplus to the saturday farmer's market.

Home was a twenty minute drive into a small farming village. Every saturday neighboring farmers and locals would set up stalls with trinkets, clothes, produce, fresh bread, flowers. The make up of the merchandise would change as the season got colder. Fruits to vegetables to canned goods then sweet breads and jerky.

"Excited patita?" Pero reached over the seat and laid a hand over your thigh.

"Mhm. I love it!"

"I know you do, bebita." He chuckled.

"I think Elena will have flowers for our table, papi. And Rebecca told me last week she had some beads I can have! OH and Arturo should be back from the city with all new candies!" You rattle off this information which makes him smile more.

"Ay you will be so busy will you have time to help papi?"

"Of course!" You lean over and kiss his scruffy cheek.

You loved the saturday market. The idea you were seeing special treasures and food grown with love. It was endless possibility. It's where you first met Pero. You were new in town, hardly knew anyone. You had come across his stall and bought a honey stick from him...

Pero thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, wearing bright yellow rain boots and a white dress like a little duck. He hoped he wasn't blushing too hard when he handed you the little treat. He kept his lips in a tight line and head bent to avoid his scar from showing.

"How much?" You asked, reaching into your bag.

"No cost." He waved his hand. Such a small thing. You should have it.

"No I couldn't!" You shook your head, holding a bill out.

"It's my extra. I have plenty already." He crossed his arm, refusing to take your money.

"What about this?" You searched his stall before holding up a carton of tomatoes. "How much now?"

"No charge. Take it." Pero shook his head again, keeping his arms against his chest. You frown but it doesn't last long until it becomes a grin.

"Okay..." You set down the tomatoes and start to leave.

"No- take it. Take it." He held up the carton. "Please." As he leaned forward into the bright sun you could see his face more clearly. There was a prominent scar over his brow but it did not take away from his chiseled jawline and full lips. His eyes were brown and held no hardness even through his gruff demeanor.

You take the tomatoes with heat in your face.

You returned the next week and the next, stopping by his stall for a honey stick. Sometimes you'd indulge in his other items. The tomatoes were perfect in a sauce and you also loved his chard lettuce. It was always him by himself. A hulking man who seemed out of place in this small village. He always wore blue overalls with fraying pockets with a couple dirt spots over the front, with some sort of dark shirt underneath. Every time he'd refuse your offer of money. And a delusional voice said it was because he liked you though he never showed any other exeptional kindness towards you. He did not charge hardly anything for his products which told you he was generous. People in this town were struggling and already selling what little they had.

He indulged you in short conversation about the weather or the people in the village. You caught glimpses into his secluded life. He owned two chickens, a small bee hive, had a sprawling garden which provided almost all the food he needed year round, a horse which he spoke of fondly. He mostly listened to you talk, maybe out of nervousness you would overshare. But you told him about the city where you came from, what you studied at university, the latest house project that was keeping you busy, why you wanted to move to the country.

You perused the other stalls for something you might be able to give him in return for the free honey sticks. Old books, worn shoes, watches that did not work anymore. Settling on the only thing that really spoke to you, you wandered back to his stall one saturday and placed a small bouquet of crocus still in their bulbs next to his till.

When he looked up at you questioningly, you simply smiled shyly slipping back into the crowd. Little did you know how that made his heart melt. He watched you, always watched you as you walked from stall to stall. To the point it was distracting him from selling off any of his lot. His hands itched to feel the warm skin of your collarbone, to feel your sunkissed cheeks. He watched you jump with both feet into a puddle left from overnight rain. Not caring about your pretty dress. Almost like you were in your own little perfect world. He wished he could be part of it. He would think of you as the week went on, looking forward to seeing you again. Selecting the fattest honey stick to be set aside for you. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to be close to someone so alive.

You had grown close with the two women, Elena and Rebecca, who lived down the road from you. They told you Pero (his name was Pero) lived away from the village, keeping to himself. They gossiped that he had fought in a foreign war and came back with a massive treasure to keep him comfortable for all his days.

"If it were me, I'd move to paris and never work another day in my life."

"He must be traumatized from the war. That's why he lives alone and hordes his treasure."

Curiosity took hold and you found yourself lingering by his stall at the end of the market.

"Can I help you pack up?" You offer as he stacks the crates on top of each other.

"I can manage." He responds. Well, he didn't tell you go to away. You watch him hoist the crates onto the bed of his truck. There wasn't much left in them. They had been full a couple weeks ago. You busy yourself with folding up the off white sheet he had over the table.

"I won't be back next week." He says, turning and facing you.

"Oh." You feel your heart deflate a little. You'd miss seeing him. And your honey stick. "Are you traveling?"

"No. I have sold all my surplus." he gestures towards his truck. "I will not return until I have more to give."

"Ah." You say when you realize he was not going to explain more. "So... you don't come simply to look for things for yourself?"

"There is nothing I need." He shrugs though in the back of his mind there was something or someone new that may bring him into town. Summoning his best smile he said, "Gracias for the crocuses. I planted them the day you gave them to me. They continue to bloom."

"You're welcome." You smile, taking a step towards him. "I believe in repaying kindness with kindness."

"If only more shared your sentiment." He smiles slightly. "I should go." And at least he sounds sorry about it.

You saw no point in going to the next saturday market because he wouldn't be there. You had plenty of produce and really did not need to be spending more money on trinkets. Your new home was falling apart around you. No one had lived here in years. You threw yourself in the renovations and hardly noticed the sun sink lower and lower in the sky.

"Pollito! Can you help us move our stall? The damn wheel broke on that missing cobblestone."

"Of course." You set down your spackle. When you reach the street most of the vendors are paking up but standing in the middle of the street is Pero. His broad form easy to spot. Why was he here? He sees you and immediately starts walking towards you.

"Pollito! Here lend a hand-"

"Shhhh" Elena shushes her, watching Pero approach.

"Hello." He nodded, twisting a cap in hand.

"Hello." You reply, linking your hands behind your back.

"I was looking for you. I mean- I came to see you."

You feel your heart race with excitement and something rear up in you that wanted to dance around in the golden hour light.

"Here, for you, patita." He held out an object you knew well. A honey stick!

~~~~~~~~

[moralesmilesanhour]

my neighbor's a punk

summary: you move into a new apartment with a noisy neighbor. inspired by this prompt list! wc: 922 A/N: just wrote this for some practice. I'm getting better at writing longer drabbles, I think! As always feel free to reblog and leave your reactions in the tags or comments. As of the date this is being posted, my requests are also open! (pls check my pinned beforehand)

You had never seen a garden so beautiful.

Vibrant blossoms of yellow and orange greeted you as you hauled two medium-sized boxes carrying the last of your things through the entrance of your new apartment. Their fragrance wafted through the humid summer air, delighting you and confirming that they were, in fact, real. But for the past couple of days that you had been in the process of moving in, you’d never once spotted a gardener or seen the sprinklers turn on. Curious.

The modest apartment had only a couch to occupy the living room, which was currently still dotted with cardboard boxes. A freshly-ironed shirt and work pants lay neatly folded on top of one. You stepped over a few to get to the kitchen, where various unopened appliances were strewn about the counter. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, you made a note to finally put everything away in the cupboards tomorrow evening after work.

No TV meant your only sources of entertainment for the time being were your phone and your laptop. It was now evening, and you were slouched on your sofa in the midst of a harrowing ‘Game of Thrones’ episode when a violent guitar riff ripped through the air and made you jump.

These thin-ass walls…

Whoever was playing (very well, you might add) seemed to be next door, so it didn’t take long to follow the sound to the correct number. You knocked impatiently and rang the doorbell too, for good measure. It took a minute for the music to come to a halt before the sound of heavy footsteps approached the door and you heard it unlock.

Once the door creaked open, you weren’t sure where to look first.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the array of piercings on your neighbor’s face and dangling from his ears, the wicks styled to shoot out from his head like an explosion, and his bright red plaid pants before landing on a pair of large eyes set deeply within a dark, angular face.

Judging by the way his pierced brow quirked up in amusement, you weren’t the first to give him a weird look, and wouldn’t be the last.

You remembered how to speak.

“Oh, um- hey,” you began, “I live next door, and I heard you playing–”

The young man’s face lights up and he interrupts, “Oh, d’you like it? It’s a song I’ve been workin’ on for the past few weeks. Finally got the bridge down.”

You blinked. 

“I mean…it’s not bad. It’s great, even, but–”

“Say, I haven’t seen you around before,” he pointed. “You new here?”

The man spoke with a strong Cockney accent, you noticed, with a tinge of something else that made a couple of vowels run together.

“...Yes, I moved in two days ago,” you sighed. “Now that that’s out of the way, I was about to ask if you could maybe play a lil’ quieter? You’re very loud.”

The realization seemed to dawn on him that you weren’t here to applaud his sick guitar riffs, and he winced. You almost felt bad for disappointing him, but you had a show to binge.

“Ah shit, my fault. Got too used to playing on full volume after the last neighbor moved out,” With a hand placed over his chest, he promised, “Won’t happen again.”

You nodded with a tight smile. 

“Thanks. Goodnight,” you said as you turned to leave.

The next few days were quieter, though you could still hear the neighbor’s guitar through the walls at a much more manageable volume. Sometimes you would hear the man humming to himself in his baritone voice. Eventually, you were so used to it that you found yourself falling asleep to the sound.

One Saturday morning, though, you awoke to the peculiar sound of silence. Normally by now you’d be hearing the first few chords of…whatever the guy was working on, then he’d reach the end by mid-afternoon. Part of you wanted to check up on him, but reason held you back; you’d only spoken to him once. Maybe he was just taking an off day.

Unable to return to sleep, you decided to shower and take a walk outside while the air was still comfortably cool.

As soon as the early morning sun hit your face, a familiar head of hair came into view.

There stood your neighbor–band t-shirt and all–in the garden in front of the apartment. Watering the flowers.

Mystery solved.

“So you’re the reason the plants haven’t died yet,” you laughed, causing his head to snap up.

He grinned, and lifted his watering can proudly. “Sure am. Bring some color into the place.”

“I thought it was awful quiet around here,” you remarked. You toyed with the hem of your t-shirt. “How’s the, uh…song going?”

Something between delight and surprise graced his features and made him look boyish. 

He smiled, revealing a crooked front tooth as he replied, “Almost done with it, actually.”

There was silence for a beat, and the both of you shifted awkwardly where you stood. 

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. 

“Mind playing it for me when you’re done?”

The tall man seemed about ready to run laps around the block at the suggestion.

Quickly setting his watering can down, he replied, “Thought you’d never ask, mate!”

He jogged his way around the perimeter of the garden and over to you. “Can I get your name while we’re at it?”

“Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it.

“Hobie.”

[mayasaurusss]

I have an adult Lottie req!! Reader has a stall in the farmers market next to where the purple, sorry, heliotrope, people sell honey and reader has become sort of close with Lisa and is generally a very chill person until one day Lottie is there and reader tries to flirt but is miserably awkward about it so Lisa has to be like “basically they’re trying to ask you out” to Lottie. Thank you!

Honey.

Contains: fluff, idiots in love, legal age gap, florist reader, reader is a horny bastard, beekeeper Lottie (aka, Lottie is a nerd), suggestive, crack fic threated seriously, grammar mistakes, done quickly, not proofread, I used the word "realize" more times than I realized ( ;D ). 250k, about five pages.

Author's note: I am sorry anon but I had to write this faster than usual, since I have so much stuff to write from now on until the end of summer. So, there might be many more grammar mistakes, sadly. Also, unreleated, but this might get cringy at times. I hope it's still okay! Enjoy!

The floral smells of the flowers filled your nostrils while you are lazily resting on your chair. You loved your florist job but at times, it could get boring; spending your days selling flowers was more tiring than it seemed. The only days you had to rest were Saturdays and Sundays and even those were spent taking care of the many flowers and plants in your little garden.

During the afternoon, the marketplace was quiet; people had just finished their morning errands and were either going back to work or to their homes. Still, you had clients: an old granny with her niece, a young woman with a gardening passion, an old man with a walking cane, a woman in her mid forties with the most beautiful dark eyes you've ever seen. That last one struck you.

She had come around four pm, when the marketplace started to become lively once more before shutting down for the day. You had already seen her; in fact, you had eyed her all day. She introduced herself as Lottie, your "market neighbor".

Her words are distant, "....y, are you listening to me?".

You are brought back to earth when she waves her hand before your eyes. "Uh, sorry! I was... thinking. Can you uhm, repeat yourself?" she gives you a weird look. You hope she hasn't caught you fawning over her; "I said I would like to purchase something".

You jolt up from your seat and put on your gloves. "Sure! What would you like?", Lottie takes a look at the small paper in her hand, "I would like... chamomile, echinacea, aster, cosmos and heliotrope, if you have it". Her hands brush on yours while you hand her her purchase; you can distantly feel your cheeks heating up, but pay it no mind. "Would you like to come take a visit to my stall? Maybe I could even make you join our community" she says, but something in her voice makes you distrust her. "No thank you, I'm fine on my own. But I'll happily stop by later".

You are interrupted by the sounds of an old granny almost knocking over a few plants. "... as soon as work allows me".

You close the stall one hour earlier than usual. The marketplace smells of food, wood, flowers and honey. "Listen, young woman!" you hear an old lady yell while you walk towards the purple stall, "There is no way you will sell me chestnut honey as all-flower honey! I am old, but not blind!"

Lottie was unfocused, staring into the distance, but once she spots you she completely abandons her poor employer to the old woman's ramblings. "You've come!" her hands close on yours. She flashes you her beautiful smile.

Her stall is small, consisting of a counter covered in a purple cloth with countless jars of honey and honeycomb on it and a beehive on display. Near the end of a table you see a flier. "Join our vibrant community!" it reads; "We help you understand and overcome your traumas! Become the best version of yourself!" written in bold purple font. "So, are you guys like uhm... a cult?"

It seems like Lottie was prepared for your questions, as she answers right away. "No, we are an intentional community" -"It's a cult", you think to yourself- "that specializes in helping others and ourselves".

A uhm leaves your lips, "I like the purple shades" you say. "It's a heliotrope". Man she's so weird. But so hot.

She gestures towards the overcrowded honey stand, "May I interest you in some of our all natural honey?". Countless jars sit on the counter: some big, some small, some filled with a dark substance, some so light you can see through them. Hit by the warm light, they make for a beautiful golden spectacle. You analyze the different names written on them: chestnut, pine, all flower, thyme, acacia, wildflower, eucalyptus, clover...

"You seem to be very passionate about honey" you tell Lottie, not having realized she is very close, towering behind you. "Making honey and beekeeping is hard. But, with the right care and treatments" she picks up an amber coloured jar, moving it and reflecting light in its shades, "something like this can come to life".

Why don't you tell me more about honey while we're fucking?

"This honey is particularly tasty. It's acacia. Perfectly sweet, not too hard on the tongue and smooth". She takes a small flat wooden stick and dips it in one of the displays made for clients. "Here, try it" on the tip of the stick there is a drop of the same shade of honey. You are about to take it from Lottie's hand, but she keeps a tight grip on it.

Oh for God's sake...

Your lip closes on the tip of the stick, savoring the taste of the honey. She's right, it's sweet but not too much. It's clear Lottie made it with love and care. Your eyes avoid her intense gaze, trying to maintain your ego intact.

The old lady and Lottie's employer are watching the two of you. You see a flash of disgust in the older woman's face. "Ugh!" she grunts, sauntering away, "I'm never coming here again!". The employer tries to call the woman back, but is promptly shutted by Lottie. "We didn't need her money anyway" she says, but you see a look of hurt painting her face. "Lisa, pack everything. We're leaving".

"Are you... are you coming again here?" The question is almost stupid, of course she will come back, but Lottie smiles. "Of course I will. I'm not usually here, but another alcol- employer is feeling ill, so I will be in his place for some weeks". You look up at the woman, cheeks still hot after your little show. "You... you don't come here often?" she smiles at you and it takes everything you have to not combust on the spot. "I am the community manager. I usually attend to other matters".

Oh she has gone from a ten to a one hundred. I love women with power.

"Uh I... I see". Lottie gestures towards the girl who has begun packing up, "Lisa is almost always here. She likes the lively atmosphere of the market. Don't you, Lisa?" you hear the girl scoff, followed by a "As much as I'd like to see my fish again". Lottie looks at her with a mean 'I am going to scold you' face, "Lisa. Packing". The girl apologizes and starts to move the jars into boxes faster.

Lottie takes the jar she had shown you before, setting it in your hands. "On the house". You are confused for a moment, looking puzzled at the amber liquid. "But- but this is expensive! I can't accept this gift!" She walks back to the stand, moving to help Lisa pack up. "Consider it a gift. To make you remember me".

Oh you're gonna remember her alright.

Over the last few weeks, you've visited Lottie's stand over and over again, during work hours, during lunch, sometimes you closed the shop one hour earlier or opened it one hour later. Lottie had loved your company, but ever so worried, she was preoccupied with your finances. She had tried multiple times to give you money or to make you join her community, fearing that you weren't in the best economical situation. You had assured her that most of your income came from your shop, not the market, but she wasn't very easy to convince.

You had also become close with Lisa. Very close. One might use the word "besties" to describe you two. And, you had accidentally spilled about your little crush to her. "Lottie is such a nice person" she said, while the older woman wasn't present, "she makes me feel cared for". You had been very happy to talk about your crush. "Oh yeah she's so funny, smart and so, so beautiful but- you know in a- in a normal way..." needles to say, you got caught red handed.

And Lisa was more than happy to help her new friend out.

The first attempt had gone horrible.

Lisa was near you, coaching you into flirting with Lottie. She gives you a pat on the shoulder, a smile and encouragement, then, you walk over to Lottie, who was attending to the beehive.

"Hey..." you said, making Lottie look at you, "Hello. Something the matter?". She stands up, hands clutching together as you saw her doing so many times throughout the past weeks.

"Have you, have you always been so... symmetrical...? ", a dead silence falls over your shoulders. Lottie watches you, confused and tilting her head to the side, "What?".

" Nevermind!" you skip over to Lisa who watched the whole scene, cringing internally for you. "Come on, next time it will be better!" you look over at her with the most shameful look ever in your eyes.

"I am going to kill myself" Lisa looked at you with disdain, but kept most of it to herself, "Don't say that".

The second attempt was easier, but a helping hand aided you; well, aided Lottie.

You had tried multiple times to flirt with Lottie but to no avail, always either bailing out the second before flirting or straight up ruining your chances. "Hey" Lisa says, eyeing Lottie, who was cataloging the various honey jars. She looked over at her acolyte, who had an uncharacteristic teasing smile on her lips, "Yes?"; Lisa looked over at you, who were arguing with some old woman back at your stall.

Her thumb pointed towards you, "You see that thing?" Lottie is a bit taken aback by Lisa's words. "Yeah?" your voice rises, "That thing?" the client starts to call you names. "Yes I see her" she throws compost over your apron. "That gremlin?" you call the old woman a bitch, "Oh Lisa stop, she's a bit messy sometimes but she's not a gremlin" your cute pink apron is covered in compost and petals. "...Sometimes" Lottie says, looking at your tired figure. "I better go help her..." but Lisa's hands stop her in her tracks, she leans up and whispers in her ear "She likes you".

Now, Lottie is old. Older than she ever realized, but throughout the years, some words and tones of voice always had the same secret meaning. Lottie moves back, a hopeful but scared stare in her eyes, "She...she does?" Lisa giggles, having known about both yours and her manager's crushes long before you realized. "Yeah, she does. As in 'like you', you know?" Lottie takes a moment to understand and walk to you, with the intent on telling you about her feelings once and for all.

But when she looks at you, covered in compost, smelling and tired, she knows that it's not the right time. She can't fuck this up. "Here, let me take care of you" she takes your hand and guides you to her tent, where Lisa is peeking at you both. "Change into this" she gives you some purple -heliotrope- clothes, "It's nothing, really" she answers your silent request when you look at her. Seeing you change -after finding a public restroom and having washed off the stench- in her signature color made Lottie's heart skip a beat. "You are beautiful..."

The third attempt was the one. You had gone on your own to Lottie, having decided to tell her your feelings. Lottie was resting, as no one was at her stand. " Hey... Do you want to go on a walk with me?" normally she would decline, there was always work to do, however...the marketplace had been emptier than usual. With the start of autumn and the sky getting dark sooner, people preferred going back home. There's nothing wrong with taking a small walk, right?

A small breeze blows on the streets, freezing the tip of your nose. You and Lottie are both silent, letting the sounds of the closing shops fill the air. The silence is not unwelcome, it's calm, it feels right. You feel Lottie's fingers tangle with your own, spreading warmth from your hand to every corner of your body. You are tempted to tell her, to tell her your feelings, but only silence follows. "You are a nice person, you know?" Lottie speaks into the space, and for a moment you think she's talking to somebody else, until you realize you two are the only ones who are walking in this street, having stranded far from the market.

"I am?" she sighs, you are so hard on yourself. "You are. You are beautiful, smart, funny. You are..." she takes a deep breath, steadying herself, "You are someone I wish to be closer to". She stops, looking into your eyes. "I want to be able to... love you" and that last part takes everything out of her, lungs left empty of air and heart hammering inside her ribcage. "Can you let me love you?".

You can't believe what she's saying. Maybe you've died and your brain is just playing fantasies to make you feel less lonely. "Please..." but the grip on your hands tells you otherwise, that you're here, you're here and Lottie just confessed her love for you.

Lottie is sure to have messed up, to have destroyed the only chance she had ever had to form a meaningful relationship outside of that place, outside of the compound, outside of her head-. But the voices stops once you kiss her. It's so tender, so loving that she thinks her heart will break. Happiness and tranquility flow through her veins, into her brain and heart. She touches your arms, any inch of your body to feel closer, her hands fall to your hips. She feels as if all the oxygen in the world won't be enough for her lungs to take in after each kiss, as if all the years in human history won't be enough to love you.

Lisa has finally finished packing. After a long day of work, she truly needs a relaxing bath at the compound. But neither Lottie or you seem to have come back. It's beginning to get late, the sky is already darkening and the way back home is a long one. She leaves her's and Lottie's possessions unattended and searches for the both of you, following the street you have walked down on. There you are: kissing together, street lights shining down on the both of you, shading you in amber colors.

A florist and a beekeeper. A match made in heaven.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (VIII): You Belong With Me.

Imagine you fall in love with your neighbor, who happens to be your childhood best friend, unaware that he bears now a bad reputation and is Alys Rivers’s boyfriend.

Warnings: none; fluff and drama; silly, light reading to start our 2024 well and relaxed. :p

***

You are just going back from college. These are trying days, when you are about to enter your last semester before finally closing the course y/c. Not to mention the internship and tons of final paperworks expected to be done in what should be your vacations.

Such are your thoughts as you go back home. You share your household with your cousin named Lya Baratheon at King’s Landing in a nice neighborhood. But when you arrive at last after two hours traveling by bus, you are welcomed by Aemond Targaryen, your childhood friend who happens to have moved next to you.

“Hello, there!”, Aemond smiles at you.

You promptly leave your backpack down at the garden of your house before running to him before being fully embraced by his strong arms.

“Aemond!”, you hold on tight. “Long time no see! I missed you!”

As he places you down eventually, Aemond sees the woman you’ve become: your y/c hair is tied in a ponytail, there’s also a sweet bangs over your eyebrows. Your face has softened in delicate features and this time there’s a red lipstick painting your lips.

Although you dress casually, Aemond’s eyes can tell you’ve got bigger boobs last time he saw you—and that was 15 years ago, when you were both 12 years old.—, which earns him a smirk.

“Looking beautiful as I remember, Y/N”, he is pleased when seeing you blush.

Some things never change.

“Oh please”, you giggle softly. “So you are my neighbor now, eh? What a coincidence.”

“Yeah, indeed it is. I didn’t know you were living here. My mother recommended this neighborhood after I refused sharing a household with Aegon.”

“Oh. Are you two still not getting along?”

Aemond puts his hands on his pocket jeans and laughs.

“We always got along, but we have been following different roads now. I’ll tell you about it later. Are you coming home from a travel or something?”

“I entered college later than my fellow classmates”, you tell him. “I wanted to work a bit before getting into this academic world. So I’m still about to close it.”

“And what are you studying?”, Aemond inquires, interested in your independent spirit.

As you tell him about your college course, you notice how handsome he’s become. Taller, indeed, but stronger and with eyes so full of life. Your heart flutters foolishly, especially when you remember the old days where you two were so attached that Mrs Alicent used to joke about the day you’d get married.

“Do you want to come inside?”, you invite him after a few more minutes catching up.

“I wish I could, but I’m waiting for my girlfriend”, Aemond hates to break the joy of this reunion, even more so when your smile falters lightly, but he had to be honest with you.

“Of course”, you try not to look so disconcerted. And why, oh why, would I? “Even so you can bring her too if you like.”

Aemond ponders it, aware of your good intentions, but probably more conscious that you know nothing about his past and who his girlfriend is.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll see you around, though.”

As you turn your back to go inside your home, you miss Aemond’s sad gaze following you. Your absence soon leaves a hole where he thought an old wound was closed for good…

***

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said. 'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do…

The next day you leave your bed earlier, trying to distract your head you opt to have some running outside. The morning is inviting and you need to get yourself some exercises before starting your college’s stuff.

After having breakfast and dressing, you pick your headphones and phone, all ready to go when you open the door and spot a very angry Aemond outside, sitting in the sidewalk as he speaks on the phone.

You sigh, probably wondering the cause. It’s either his family or his girlfriend. You carefully approach him, not letting be noticed until he turns off the phone.

“Fuck!”, he curses, before spotting you at last. “By the Maker! Sorry, Y/N, didn’t see you here.”

“No worries. I didn’t mean to intrude, but you looked upset and I came here to check on you.”

As Aemond stares at you almost in disbelief, he remembers how often as children he protected you of the bullies at school, and how you did the same whenever he misbehaved—often excusing his behavior before his own parents.

“We…just had a fight, is all”, he shrugs his shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, you ask him gently, sitting next to him.

“Not really, no.”

But he eventually does. You don’t know the woman’s name, but come to find out she is temperamental and willful, at times difficult to deal with.

For the first time in a while, Aemond feels heard. You are there for him, not a mere physical presence—and here he cannot help a comparison with Alys. At times he wonders how the hell he got so lost.

Towards the end of it, he is surprised by your embrace.

“I thought you might need it”, you explain before the disconcert look stamped in his face, which reminds you how often you used to climb his back as children and he’d awkwardly take you around his household.

The same idea runs in the back of his mind, making Aemond smile in nostalgia.

“Always the optimistic. You haven’t changed a bit, Y/N.”

A laughter echoes the air as you two share a look.

***

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like. And she'll never know your story like I do…

You have finished your final assignments after all. Considering preparing something to eat, you do miss having a company. Your cousin is away, so this leaves you with your neighbor, who happens to be your childhood best friend.

It’s when you open the window that gives you sight to his house and scream out his name.

Aemond, who’s been busy reading a book, chuckles quietly when hearing you calling him a note above the heavy metal sound he’s been listening.

“Hey, girl”, he leans over the window. “What’s up? Listening to rock’n’roll today? I always figured you’d prefer classical music.”

You pull a grimace.

“What do you know of my musical tastes, Aemond Targaryen?”

He laughs quietly. It’s been a while since someone made him laugh like this.

“Well, hit me, baby. What do you want for me?”

“Have you dinned yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“I was about to cook some hamburgers. Do you want any?”

Aemond side smirks at you.

“I’ll be there in five.”

*

And here he is, eating with you late Tuesday night. Aemond soon knows about your college short break, how you are preparing for your last semester and your expectations for your graduation.

“Enough about me”, you say as you open two beers. “What have you been up to?”

“I have nothing interesting to say”, he shrugs his shoulders.

In truth, he is not willing to share the dark path he’s taken. Involved with the gang of his Hightower cousins, coercing those who owe Gerold some money, and doing other business on behalf of Aegon, he now believes to be a loser when compared to you.

“I doubt that”, you poke him. “Come now… What has your father forced you to do now?”

Mr Viserys is the main man behind the Targaryen Org., an advocacy office that has been working in politics behind the scenes and that has produced a few presidents of Westeros, the most recent of them being his daughter, Rhaenyra.

He expects his children to follow the same path, and that is why he and his sons—Aemond and Aegon, particularly—never really enjoyed a good and stable relationship. To worse it all, Mrs Alicent, his second wife, is facing a crisis in their marriage.

Aware of this background, you know how all of these quarreling have produced deep scars on Aemond.

“You should be whoever you want to be, you know”, so you say, holding his hand. “The world is yours if you so wish, Aemond.”

Reclining against the chair, he says nothing for a while, appreciating the song, the beer and… when looking at you, your company.

“You are too good for me, Y/N”, he murmurs, before taking a sip.

***

But she wears short skirts. I wear T-shirts. She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time…

You are coming back from jogging when you see her for the very first time. Taller than you, more gracious, prettier and sensual in the way she walks, Alys Rivers is dressing short skirts and a white top that reinforces her curves.

You feel embarrassed, not to say envious, when looking at what you are wearing by comparison. Blue t-shirts and black pants, your college hat and the same cute ponytail.

Insecurity hits hard and you hate yourself for it. But truth is, one is never too old to be hit by intern instability.

You also notice Aemond is having a wild barbecue at his household. At first you are hurt for not being invited, but when carefully noticing who is there, you realize it’s better for you not to get yourself involved in this kind of matter.

Exhibited like a trophy is his girlfriend, surrounded by Aemond’s Hightower cousins. You are not entirely ignorant of their illicit activities and considering Aemond’s rebellious nature, it does not shock you those are his new friends. It is more disappointing to feel overshadowed by that woman.

In the midst of this noise, Aemond feels the weight of your gaze. There is so much to be said. This is not the barbecue he wanted to do, he’s never been a lousy man, rather being introspective.

But one miscommunication, and you go back inside, heading to the shower as you carry disappointment with you.

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along. So, why can't you see? You belong with me…

It’s been two weeks. What was meant to be a surprisingly good reunion with your childhood best friend is proving to be another heartbreak you thought you’d not have to face since Jacaerys Velaryon cheated on you with his own cousin.

You opt to open a beer and throw yourself in the couch, watch some Netflix cliche, refusing to voice out your inner frustrations. What the fuck were you thinking again? Projecting romance to your life like you are the protagonist of some Christmas movie is old news.

It’s when a knock on the door scares you. Who might be in this hour?

Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry. And I know your favorite songs. And you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong. Think I know it's with me.

“Hey”, you are surprised to meet him.

Aemond is dressed in his old jeans and a white blouse. He stands before you not with the happiest faces.

“Come here, darling”, you welcome him with opened arms. “What the hell happened now?”

He is silent like always, but promptly accepts your embrace. Only then, carried to your couch, he slides to your side and takes your beer.

“I fucked shit up, Y/N.” He avoids your merciful and comprehensive gaze.

“I doubt it. But what you have done now? And where’s your girlfriend?”

“We had a fight”, Aemond rolls his eyes, sinking in the couch. You realize he’s still drinking of your beer, but you don’t mind it. “She’s very possessive. I was talking to Helaena… My own sister, and she keeps being demanding.”

Then he looks at you, expecting some answer. It takes you by surprise, though, when he changes topics abruptly by saying:

“Why did you have to go?”

“Uh?”, you barely flutter your eyelashes at it. “What are you talking about?”

“You moved out 12 years ago to High Garden”, and here comes the subtle resentment.

You take his hand and play with fingers, head resting on the back of the couch as you and him lock gazes.

“I had no choice upon the matter. I was transferred to another school because of my father. You remember that.”

“You never sent me an email.”

“Neither did you.”

For a moment there is silence hanging between you. And then Aemond says:

“I’ve heard you dated that Jacaerys lad.”

You scoff.

“How’d you know that?”

“He is my fucking nephew”, and for some strange reason this makes you two laugh. “I’m sorry about how things ended for you two. Harwin was pretty excited for having you as his probable daughter-in-law.”

“You don’t like this idea very much”, you smile at his subtle jealousy. “Something which we know wouldn’t work out well.”

Aemond’s eyes move to his hand intertwined with yours. A view that warms his heart.

“What happened?”

You opt to drink beer instead of responding him. As he studies you, Aemond spots some hurt behind your y/c eyes.

“He didn’t…”, Aemond cannot consider this option. Even so, the mere idea angers him. “Did he?! What a fucking asshole!”

To your surprise, he’s the one to hug you.

“I’m sorry, Y/Nickname. You deserve better.”

You sigh heavily, resting your head against his shoulder. For a moment, it feels like you are teenagers again and it’s you and him against the world.

“It’s all right. It’s in the past now.”

The rest of the evening is spent in between sweet talks, beers here and there. Until all breaks with a call.

“Ugh”, Aemond grumbles. “It’s her.”

As if you are reminded that this bad boy prince is nothing but a long time rebellious friend, you set your heart at easy with the crude dose of reality.

“You should better get going”, you help him stand. “After all, you have a girl waiting for you.”

Aemond rolls his eyes.

“I don’t like how this sounds.”

An intense stare.

“Am I lying, Targaryen?”

He laughs quietly.

“No, Y/LN. I hate you for it.”

For now you two follow separate ways. For now.

***

The more time Aemond spends with you, the more drawn he is to light. Whenever he’s with you, he can talk about his dreams—he wants to have an independent career, nothing related to law or politics, perhaps something related to humanities—, he is allowed to have hopes and become a better person. All of this is possible when he’s with you.

But now… far from his family and emerged in this bitter darkness that his temperamental cousins and his girlfriend aligned with his dark desires, he’s realized how wronged he’d been.

He is broken, he knows it.

“Where have you been?!”, she calls him out. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

And he decides he’s the author of his life. He let others broke him, but that’s enough for him.

When looking at Alys, Aemond knows now how he belongs with you. He just hopes it’s not too late to make it right.

“I owe you no explanations of what I do, or wherever I go. And you know what, Alys? I’m tired of this life. Just… go away.”

She wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any patience for it. The door is open and Aemond makes it clear with his deadly silent moves. He’s a winner now.

“Fine. But you’ll regret it.”

Empty words that the wind takes away after he closes the door. As he looks at the phone, he knows he needs to call the other woman whom he should have never hurt in first place.

His mother.

***

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor. All this time how could you not know, baby?

You are preparing to leave to your college when he crosses your path.

“Hey. Where the fuck are you going to?!”, Aemond asks you, paled when realizing that he, in fact, might be a little late.

“I told you I’ve only had a few weeks here, A. I’m going back to college”, you side smirk. “What’s that face? Why are you looking so serious?”

He swallows his pride and then takes your hands in his, clasping them together.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You swear you are about to faint. And maybe your sudden paling makes sure Aemond is holding you tight.

“Don’t pass out, woman”, he chuckles lightly, though you spot concern in his eyes. “I mean it.”

“B-But Aemond”, you say, struggling to understand. “I am going back to college for my final semester and I thought you were in a relationship?”

Cupping your face with his hands, he turns at you with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, saying:

“That should not be a problem. I’m on my way to be with you. I shall rent an apartment there and work at my father’s company all the whilst I start to study history. I’m getting my shit together, Y/N, and have all this to thank you for. As for my relationship, I broke up with her. Can’t you see I’m doing all of this for you?”

“Oh Aemond!”, you sigh in content before leaning to kiss his lips.

He smiles in secrecy as his hands slide firmly on your waist firmly, kissing you in return. It is as it should be. He belongs with you, after all.

***

• Epilogue.

Twelve months later…

“What are you reading today, my dear?”, you recline back in your chair and turn your head to look at him, heart melting before the sight of him all concentrated.

Lowering down his book, Aemond smiles quietly at you.

“The history of Westeros through the chroniclers. Quite an interesting reading”. He puts the book aside and pats a seat next to him at the large bed he’s in.

You leave your computer there and happily complies, soon adjusting to his arm, smiling as he plays with your ponytail.

“How’s work today?”, he asks you, in turn.

It’s winter and it’s snowing, but you’ve managed to work from home. A good excuse to be around your betrothed—oh yes, he proposed you recently, about six months after you two moved in together.

“Not very demanding today, thankfully”, you turn at him and smile fondly, caressing his cheek. “Your mother wants to spend Christmas with us.”

Your rogue prince, despite cutting his hair and dressing better, straightening his path, remains temperamental when it comes to his family. He rolls his eyes, before sighing.

“Really now? What did you say?”

You bury your head against his chest all the whilst Aemond wraps you around his arms, throwing blanket over you two.

“I told her to come. I think we might expect everyone, really. I hear she’s in good terms with Rhaenyra too.” Apparently, the two had had a bad fight last autumn.

“Oh no”, he groans.

“Look at the bright side, Leana, Aegon and Daeron are coming as well.”

“This apartment isn’t big enough for all of them, my darling”.

You raise your eyes to meet his. He’s so adorable wearing glasses, you thought.

“It is, it is. I’ll make sure everything is going to be perfect”, you smile warmly.

Aemond smiles back at you.

“Damn, I cannot say no to you. Fine, do your best. And since we are welcoming this big dysfunctional family of mine, how about inviting yours too?”

You tilt your head, smiling.

“Really?”

He scoffs.

“Of course, silly head.”

You lean to kiss his lips.

“I love how Christmas man you’ve become, sweet Aemond.”

He chuckles quietly.

“That’s only because you’ve made me one, darling.”

Leaving aside his book and glasses, he leans to kiss you deeply and you return it passionately. This afternoon is surely going to be warmer than expected…

[ink-flavored]

Anthology Blast Prompt 5: Reverse Shaping a Friendship

for the Tales from Athendrolyn Anthology Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast Tips are appreciated! Contains: passive-aggressive arguing, misunderstandings

It was a beautiful spring day in Athendrolyn. Parks blossomed with fresh leaves and bright flowers, the streets bustled with people, and a collective sigh of relief that the long winter had finally ended. Dhosseda took in the sights as she made her way down the sidewalk, an engraved blackthorn wood cane in one hand and a bulging purse under her opposite arm. It was a lovely day all around, and what better way to spend a lovely day than with her neighborhood?

In the distance, a Mid-Kingdom Elvish style building came into view. A dignified construction of polished wood, marble columns, stained glass, and an artfully slanted roof, it would have been a cathedral in nearly any other city. In Athendrolyn, the sign over the entrance—new, but styled to match the historic architecture—announced itself to all passersby as the Waterside Community Senior Center. Dhosseda turned down the street and through the entrance garden, a rainbow of plants greeting her on the way.

The enchanted doors slid open as she approached. A quaint reception desk sat in the center of a small lobby, but Dhosseda didn’t need to bother the volunteer behind it. She turned down the same hallway as always, and looked for the floor sign with “Weekly Knitting Circle” scrawled across it in big, looping chalk letters. It was the third room on the left, as usual, with its doors wide open to anyone who cared to join.

“Good morning, Miss Oakfall,” said the pleasantly soft voice of Fiadh, a young selkie with brown hair down to her lower back. She wore her velvety, spotted, sealskin coat as if winter had never ended, though that was no surprise.

“Please, dear, I’ve said it a hundred times,” she replied, waving a hand. “Call me Dhosseda—or you can even call me Eda, if you like.”

Fiadh took her cane when she offered it and held out her arm instead. “Sorry, Miss—Dhosseda. Old habits are hard to break.”

“You’re much too young to be saying that.”

“Am I?”

“Mark my words, Fiadh: when your hair goes as gray as my beard, you’ll remember this talk and guffaw until your heart gives out.”

She laughed gently. “I’ll take your word for it.” Fiadh lead her to the nearest low seat in the knitting circle, to accommodate her dwarvish stature. She set the cane against the wall. “Just call for me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thank you, dear, it’s a pleasure to see you as always.”

“Eda, is that you?” asked Vinthia, a blindfold secured tightly over her eyes. Her bullsnake hair twisted over and over itself, each snake flicking its tongue trying to sniff out the newcomer. Her hands worked at almost the same rate, knitting needles clicking burnt orange yarn into even rows.

“It most certainly is,” Dhosseda replied, opening her purse for her own project. “I didn’t mean to be late, but it was such a lovely day, I walked instead of taking the trolley.”

“It is pleasant today, isn’t it?” Crabapple agreed from across the circle, a stout dryad—closer to a shrub, really—with long, spindly branches tipped with springtime leaves.

“Hold onto your hats, everyone,” said Pimpernel, a halfling on their other side, “Ol’ Crabby has something positive to say for once.” The circle only laughed because it was true.

Crabapple brandished their crochet hook. “Don’t you start with me, or won’t bring my homemade jelly when my fruit starts to ripen.”

“A threat, indeed!”

Dhosseda chuckled into her beard, unfolding her latest blanket project onto her lap. There was nothing she’d rather do than be here among her neighbors. She’d gotten so used to the regulars, she almost felt like they’d known each other their whole lives. Vinthia, Crabapple, and Pimpernel, of course. Then there was Oloyra, an elf older than the building but didn’t look a day over six-hundred, Xilbeth, a minotaur with needles double the size of Dhosseda’s legs, and Tokea, the satyr who used yarn made of its own fleece. Yes, she truly couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. The only problem she’d ever had at the knitting circle was—

“Good morning, Miss Meldrish,” Fiadh said. Dhosseda snapped up.

A brilliantly purple dragonfolk entered the room in a frilly, square-neckline dress. The wide sunhat on her head had holes poked in it for her horns. She had a wicker basket over her elbow, stuffed with colorful yarn and different sized needles. Her sharp teeth flashed while she spoke with Fiadh, the picture of polite innocence. Dhosseda felt her blood pressure rise.

Meldrish squeezed between chairs into the circle. “Excuse me, darlings, I hate to interrupt.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Pimpernel said, scooting his seat over to let her pass. “All you’ve cut short is talk about the weather.”

“It is such a lovely day, isn’t it?” Meldrish had the gall to plop her scaly behind right next to Dhosseda, her tail slipping through the gap in the chair’s back. “I took a walk to get some sun on my scales.”

“That’s what Dhosseda said!”

“Oh, is that so?” Meldrish put her basket in her lap, and coolly turned her gaze. “How lovely, Dhosseda, we all need some fresh air from time to time.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, smiling through gritted teeth. “It’s hard to imagine a better time for it than today, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course, I feel the same.” Meldrish plucked a pair of needles out of her basket. “But of course, I’d never miss a meeting. Not even for an entire hoard of scrap fabric.”

“As if you need another hoard,” Oloyra teased.

Everyone laughed again, and Dhosseda pretended to join them. She picked up her own needles and yarn. She would ignore Meldrish, and focus on her project. Nothing this woman said was going to send her ranting today. Not this time.

Dhosseda assessed her next row. She’d been working on this blanket for a few months now, and it was in its final stages now. Her choice to use an alternating zig-zag pattern in forest green, bright lime, white, and gray required stopping to switch colors fairly often, but it was nothing she hadn’t done before. For this blanket in particular, all the hardship in the world was worth it. She picked up where she’d left off with her dark green yarn.

“What are you working on this week, Vinthia?” she asked.

“Now that it’s getting warmer,” she replied, “I thought I’d try a light shawl for the beach.”

“That’s a great idea! I love the color you chose, it looks excellent with your hair.”

 The bullsnakes writhed in her direction. “I’m so glad you think so! I was worried it would be a bit too bold.”

“Nonsense, there’s no such thing as too bold. Especially not for you, dear, it suits you.”

She smoothed her hair back and the snakes tangled around her fingers. “Oh, enough about me. What are you working on, Eda?”

“The same blanket I brought last week, I’m finally getting to the end of it.”

“Well, just make sure not to start a new blanket before you’re done.”

Dhosseda chuckled knowingly. “Oh, believe me, I’ve thought about it. But I’m on a bit of a time crunch with this one.”

“How so?”

“I have to get it done in two months for my grandson’s graduation.” She paused, sitting up taller. “He’s on track to be at the top of his class in Thaumaturgic Engineering at Cragshield University, and I want to surprise him with this.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“I agree!” interrupted Meldrish, sticking her snout where Dhosseda certainly didn’t want it. “Congratulations to your family! One of my grandsons graduated with high honors from Cragshield last year. It’s such a rigorous school to succeed in, your grandson must be very astute indeed.”

“Thank you,” Dhosseda said, forcing the platitudes past her tongue. “And congratulations to yours as well.”

She scoffed, waving it off with her needles. “Oh, it’s old news now. He’s no engineer like yours, but he did land an office at Montagar & Powell Law this year, and we’re all very proud.”

Before Dhosseda could reply—spit a reply—Xilbeth chimed in. “My granddaughter did an internship at Montagar & Powell!”

“What a small world,” Meldrish said. “How did she like it there?”

They continued to chit-chat, but Dhosseda couldn’t hear them over her blood boiling in her ears. How dare this overgrown lizard “congratulate” her grandson, only to sweep him aside to brag about her own.How dare she try to dismiss his success by name-dropping one of the most prestigious law firms in the country!

“Eda…” Vinthia warned. Even the snakes were giving her wary looks. She huffed, but knew Vinthia was right. She should just focus on her own project, let Meldrish gloat to Xilbeth until he keeled over instead.

No such luck—Meldrish put a hand on her arm. “But where are my manners?” she chided herself, and Dhosseda almost rolled her eyes. “I meant to say that two of his clutchmates are at Cragshield as well, perhaps the three of our grandkids know each other?”

“I doubt it,” she said, before she could stop herself. “My grandson is quite studious, as I’m sure you assumed, and lately he’s been working very hard to polish up his Master’s thesis—it’s his second degree.” Dhosseda shrugged, trying to hint for her to get those obnoxious claws off. “So unless they both happen to be engineers, I don’t think they could possibly know each other.”

“Oh my, that’s impressive.” She sat back, nodding into her chest. “It does sound like he’d be too busy. Maybe they’ll meet up if he goes back for his doctorate? At least one of mine is going back for a Ph.D. in—”

“Unless it’s in engineering, I highly doubt they’ll ever see each other.”

“Ladies,” Tokea interrupted with a sigh. “Do you have to do this every time?”

“Yes, do you?” Vinthia agreed.

“Do what?” Meldrish asked, blinking around the circle. “Don’t tell me none of you ever talk about your grandchildren.”

Dhosseda felt her eye twitch. “I’d hate to cut this short, but I would like to focus on my project now. Dear.”

“It’s not a problem at all!”

Meldrish cheerfully went back to her basket and the project in her hands, knitting row after row of light blue yarn. Dhosseda almost snapped her needles in half.

“I think I might try a halter top next,” Vinthia said, overly loud. “What do you think, Eda?”

Dhosseda a calming breath. “I think that sounds lovely, darling.”

Despite her best efforts, Dhosseda spent the rest of the knitting circle fuming. Vinthia, the kind soul that she was, tried to keep her occupied in conversation, but it only went so far. Weeks upon weeks of bitterness bubbled to the surface and simmered at the top of her mind for hours. When everyone packed up to leave, Dhosseda was shocked there wasn’t steam pouring out of her ears.

She couldn’t even enjoy the walk home like she planned. She stomped down the street, striking her cane against the pavement, and sulked. Birds chirped, people watered flowers in their gardens, and Dhosseda scowled at her feet. A gorgeous spring afternoon—wasted by that foul woman’s obsession with herself!

Dhosseda reached the door to her condo complex and took the elevator down to the basement levels. She was still grumbling by the time she reached her door, not even comforted by the familiar confinement of stone walls and fairy light lamps.

“I’m back,” she announced on the way inside.

“Well, you don’t sound happy about it,” replied Turel, her husband and much calmer half.

She sighed harshly, kicking her shoes off in the foyer. “You’ll never guess why!”

“Was it Mel—”

“It was Meldrish again!”

Dhosseda stomped into the living room. Turel sat on his favorite lounge chair, short beard tucked into his chest while he fed treats to their phoenix, Nora. The fiery feathered bird perked up and cocked her head from where she perched on the arm of the chair. If Dhosseda had been in any other mood, she would have joined them quietly, but she just couldn’t wait to get the off her chest.

“I was talking to Vinthia about Reiroc’s graduation,” she ranted, “and this woman has the gall to interrupt and talk about how her grandson is a big, fancy lawyer at Montagar & Powell, and that two of his siblings are at Cragshield doing their fancy degrees—”

“Eda.”

“—and just happened to mention that they’ll be going back for doctorates when I said Reiroc was busy with his Master’s defense! Oh, and when I mentioned what a lovely day it was for a walk—”

“Eda.”

“—she told me that ‘we all could use some fresh air’ and I just know she was trying to insinuate something—”

Turel waved his arms in desperation. “Blessings and curses, Eda, slow down!”

Dhosseda broke off, huffing and puffing. Nora raised and lowered the crest on her head, chirping in alarm. Turel stroked the back of her neck.

“You’re going to make the old girl burst into flames at this rate,” he chided.

“Well, I won’t be far behind,” she replied, and slumped on the chair across from his. She set her cane against the side and put her head against her fist. “I swear on all the stone in the earth, if I have to talk to that woman one more time…”

“Why do you talk to her?”

“I don’t! She talks to me first!”

“So ignore it!” Turel hushed apologetically when Nora chirped again. “Honestly, Eda, you’ve never had a nice word to say about Meldrish, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you go out of your way to speak to her every week.”

“It’s not—I don’t start the conversations, but I can’t just let her have the last word.”

“Why not? What are you actually getting out of entertaining these talks?”

She didn’t know, honestly. Dhosseda hated how Meldrish clearly craved to be the center of attention. She couldn’t let anyone speak well about themselves or their family without trying to counter it with a brag of her own, something that would inevitably turn the group’s praise and ears toward her. There was an undercurrent of challenge to her every rebuke, daring someone else to steal the spotlight back. Dhosseda couldn’t stand Meldrish or her antics, but she hated to be dismissed even more. Not that their terse conversations ever made her feel any better, even on the few occasions she had “won.”

“Nothing,” she admitted, with a sigh. “My pride gets the better of me, I guess.”

Turel nodded, a smile on his face. “That’s the Eda I married, no question. But you’re going to make yourself sick with all this hate you bring home. Just try ignoring her next time.”

How? she wanted to ask. How could she possibly ignore it when her own achievements, her family’s achievements, her joy was constantly under scrutiny like that? When there was someone like Meldrish in the room, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting conversations? It took everything she had not to fly off the handle. How was she supposed to sit quietly?

Nora flew off Turel’s chair and landed on hers. She cooed, eyes pinning in interest. Dhosseda ran a hand down her long back and wings. She took a deep breath.

If she couldn’t ignore Meldrish for her own sake, then she’d do it for her husband, who deserved better than to hear her rant about this unpleasant woman every week. She’d do it for Nora, who stressed so terribly easily. If Meldrish needed to tear others down to lift herself up, that was her business. Dhosseda didn’t want any part of it—would choose not to take part in it. Besides, they were both too old for these childish games. She didn’t want to poison herself with anger, or ruin the time she spent with her neighbors by dreading a single person.

“I’ll do my best,” she agreed.

Her mind was made up. Next week, she would protect her peace.

Dhosseda “making herself sick” was supposed to be a figure of speech.

The day before the knitting circle she felt a bit groggy, but on the fateful morning of what was supposed to be her new beginning, she could barely get out of bed. As the last straggling cases of the winter flu popped up around the city, Dhosseda was, unfortunately, one of its victims. Instead of knitting, she spent that day—and several days afterward—feverish and coughing. It was bad enough that she tried to convince Turel to wax her beard clean off, but thankfully he didn’t.

He and Nora were constants at her bedside, the darlings, and Vinthia dropped by with a pot of soup. While she ate, the two of them got to talking about what she missed at the knitting circle, and Vinthia reported that, while everyone wished she could have been there, Meldrish seemed particularly unhappy. Dhosseda couldn’t help puzzling over that.

“I thought she hated me,” she remarked to Turel that night.

“It could be that you were the most fun to argue with,” he suggested. “Hold still, now.”

He rubbed his hands together and a cool blue spark jumped between his palms. A little ghostly familiar in the shape of a mouse ran down his arm. A spell burst from his fingertips, and the mouse disappeared as the welcome relief of chilly air washed over Dhosseda’s face.

“Thank you, dear,” she sighed, relaxing into her pillow. “I think the worst of it’s behind me.”

“Hope so.” He scooted under the blankets next to her. “After all, I think you’d lose your mind if you had to miss two weeks of knitting in a row.”

She laughed, but it was subdued by her unanswered questions. If all Meldrish really wanted was a good argument, couldn’t she get that from anybody? Maybe Dhosseda was the only one who fought back as fiercely, but wouldn’t that be a detriment to her need for attention? As she recovered, the more she thought it over, and the less it made sense.

Luckily, her illness had since subsided by the time the next knitting circle rolled around. She took a bit of medicine and used the trolley instead of walking, just to be safe, but she was upright and stir-crazy from sitting in one spot for days on end.

“Miss Dhosseda! “ Fiadh greeted, rushing to her side. “Vinthia told us you were sick last week, how are you feeling?”

“I’m moving a bit slower,” she admitted, “but glad not to be hacking up my own lungs anymore.”

“We’re all glad too. Here, come sit down.”

Dhosseda took her arm to the usual seat. Vinthia was already there at her side, talking to Tokea, and Meldrish sat on the other. But this week was the week—she would not be letting her mood be dictated by petty, childish contests. She took her project out of her purse.

“Dhosseda!” Meldrish gasped, and she braced herself, “I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been ill, what happened?”

“Just a little flu,” she replied. She got to work on her blanket, counting the rows. “I’m feeling much better now, thank you.”

“I’m so glad to hear it, I was lonely without you last week.”

Dhosseda did a double take. “Lonely? Wasn’t everyone else here?”

Meldrish waved a hand. “Oh, it just isn’t the same without you, darling.”

“Oh.” That was a surprise. “Thank you?”

“Of course! And if you’re ever ill again, if you ever need anything at all, just let me know.”

“I—I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, again.”

Meldrish went back to her project. Dhosseda went back to hers—or tried to.

It was as if the months of arguments had been an elaborate joke. Meldrish was unflappably kind the entire time. They had a genuine conversation about their pets when Dhosseda brought up how Nora stayed by the bed while she was sick, and Meldrish mentioned she had a dog, Dori. They… got along for the first time. Vinthia was surprised, too, Dhosseda could tell, but didn’t have an explanation for her.

By the end of the knitting circle, she still didn’t have one. Dhosseda took her time packing up her things, half on purpose, and half lost in thought. Was this supposed to be another way of getting attention? Had her brief illness knocked something loose in Meldrish that convinced her to be kinder? Was Dhosseda’s new mindset all it took to prepare her for a completely different experience? There was only one way she could find out.

“Meldrish,” she asked, once they were the final two leaving, “I hate to come across rude, but you seem different today.”

“Do I?” she asked, a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong, I just missed our boasting session last week so terribly.”

Dhosseda blinked. “Boasting session?”

“Yes, is that not what dwarves call it? Our little verbal sparring matches, I love hearing about your grandson!”

A boasting session. Verbal sparring. This whole time, while Dhosseda thought she was being brushed aside, Meldrish had been trying to bond with her. She thought they were swapping stories, engaging in a friendly bragging competition. A flush of embarrassment ran through her, nearly as hot as her fever.

“It’s no trouble at all,” she quickly said. “How would you like to get tea somewhere this weekend, to make up for the meeting I missed?”

Meldrish clasped her claws together. “Oh, I’d love that! I know an excellent tea shop nearby, it’s called The Daughter’s Cup.”

“I can meet you there at two o’clock tomorrow.”

“Perfect!”

They said their goodbyes at the sidewalk and went their separate ways. Dhosseda thought about stopping by the library on her way home—apparently, she needed to learn a bit more about dragonfolk boasting culture.

-

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