#need to find me a local woman to join my wife and i

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.5

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

next chapter

“Tell me who you belong to.” She demanded, hand wrapping around your thigh, squeezing tight.

“You… I belong to you.” You could hardly speak but managed to get that much out between her hard licks. Tears of pain and pleasure started to form in your eyes.

“Say it! Who!” She shouted. “Who makes you feel this good?”

You moaned louder. “...mommy… only mommy fucks me this good…”

Your wife had your legs wrapped over her shoulders, licking and sucking as you moaned uncontrollably. Her fingers plunged inside you, as your soft, tight walls throbbed around her, as her fingers moved continuously on your clit, rubbing her tongue against it in tandem with her hand. Your body began quaking as you overcame your orgasm, screaming obscenities into the otherwise quiet room.

You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath as you lifted your head from the bed to look at her. She was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, face slick from your release, her cheeks a dark shaded crimson.

"Jesus... when you asked to come upstairs for a kiss, I didn't expect that..." you muttered, breathless and smiling.

-

Ellie was sat on the left side of the sofa, like she always did, her fingertips drumming lightly against the soft fabric of her black slacks. Louise, your couples therapist, sat adjacent to the couch, in her armchair tapping her fountain pen against a notebook. The two of them didn't share a word, save for greetings and awkward smiles of acknowledgment. Ellie glanced at the clock that sat on the wall and sighed, where were you?

It was now nearing 4, and you had agreed to meet Ellie at 3:30. Yet you still hadn’t arrived, to make matters worse your phone wasn’t going through which was strange, as you were always reachable.

"Mrs. Williams, I have a client coming in, in about" she looks at her watch and gazes back at her. "15 minutes, I'm always happy to reschedule" she smiles politely, as she gets up and walks to her desk.

"Sure, I apologise on behalf of my wife, I'm not sure what's going on" she says, as she rises from the couch then collects her coat.

"No need, she's a working woman again, we can't blame her" she smiles and walks Ellie to the door. She nods her goodbye as she exits the office, slightly glad she wouldn't have to sit through another session.

-

You were currently in the parking lot of a local bar, sat on the curb as Abby and Morgan, tried to fix your car. After finishing off work quite early, Abby had persuaded you into joining she and the rest of the team for drinks, seeing as you still had 1 hour before you and Ellie’s session you’d agreed reluctantly. After a single gin and tonic (to avoid going over the limit) you packed your things and bid the crew goodbye, but once you got to your car you realised you'd be stuck in this parking lot way longer than you'd like. To ensure Ellie didn't waste her time waiting for you, you quickly plucked your phone out of your purse only to find that it had died.

"So what exactly is wrong with it?" You ask, coming up behind Abby and Morgan who are stationed in front of the car with the hood popped open.

"Nothing, we've checked everything from the engine to the battery and it all seems to be okay, I'm not sure why it won't start" says Morgan as he scratches his head in thought.

"I think it's a problem with your key, the battery in it is dead so you're going to need an entirely new key... or do you have a spare?" Abby asks as she turns around to face you.

"Yeah, but it's at home" you reply.

"Well without that spare key, this car is not moving" Abby says, making you groan. This couldn't have come at a less convenient time. Ellie was either fuming or worried, you were hoping for the latter.

-

After your failure to show at todays counselling session, Ellie picked Lila up from Joel’s and went straight home. By now Lila was fully better and her irritability and clinging had thankfully come to a stop. That didn't mean she dropped the sass. Ellie prompted to make dinner, so when you returned, whenever that was, the three of you could eat together but Lila had other plans.

"No momma, tea party!" She yelled from the kitchen floor as she tugged on her legs. If she weren't her child, Ellie would've been tempted to step on her.

"No, I have to make dinner" her voice stern and decided, leading the child to roll her eyes, a habit she had very recently become accustomed to.

"Mean momma" she angrily toddles out of the kitchen with her pink and gold embellished tea cup, causing her to sigh and return her attention to the dinner she was trying to make.

-

Just when you thought your evening couldn't have gotten any worse, rain began pouring heavily. Morgan and Abby encouraged you to leave your car here for the night and have one of them take you home. Abby being more than willing to take you home, one could even say she was quite adamant. You didn't want to be stuck in the rainfall waiting for Ellie to pick you up and the short sleeved blouse and pencil skirt you sported didn't help so you accepted her offer.

"I've turned the heater on, I can see that you're freezing" She says as her hand strokes your thigh, for a lone second. You immediately shift uncomfortably at her advance. She knew you were married, she had met your wife and kid and yet her flirting never stopped. You whispered a quiet, “thank you” and kept your attention on your lap, as you played with your wedding band.

"Here, have this it seems the heater isn't working in your favour" Abby smiles at you, while reaching for a coat that was splayed on one of her backseats. You accept the offering not wanting to freeze, as you sink further into the warmth of the heated chair.

"Thank you, I'm not usually affected this much by the cold" you reassure her as you look outside the car window, lost in the buzz of traffic and the street lights of the cities boulevards.

"Well that's one thing we have in common” She simply smiles ahead, her eyes focused on the road. The car falls silent and you spend the rest of the ride sat in gentle silence.

-

"Where's mommy?" Lila has returned to the kitchen after giving her mother the silent treatment, in search for her other mother.

"I don't know baby, she's running late isn't she?" Ellie reaches down to pick her up when she hears a knock at the door.

"Mommy?" She questions, looking at Ellie in search for answers.

"Well let's go see if it is mommy" she states as she makes her way over to the foyer to get the door.

-

The doors to your home open and you are met with Ellie, who is stood in her usual band tee and a pair of sweatpants, with Lila sat in her arms. The first thing she notices is your freezing state and the oversized coat that clings to your body.

"Y/n, what the fuck happened are you okay?" Ellie questions as she hikes Lila higher and looks at you worriedly. Lila waves at you sweetly and you return the action making her smile.

"I'm so sorry I missed todays session, our team went for a drink and then my car wouldn't start so Abby was kind enough to drop me home" you say as you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

"Don't worry about that, come in you're freezing" Ellie ushers you into the house and immediately reaches for her phone, adjusting the home’s controls to turn the heat up.

"So what happened to your car?" She asks as she leads you to the kitchen and starts the kettle.

"I'm not entirely sure, you know I don't know shit about cars, but Abby thinks my key battery died" She looks at you as she drops a teabag of chamomile and stirs a small spoon of sugar into a large embellished teacup.

"Yeah, that shit happens you'll need to carry around your spare from here on out, I was worried" she says, placing the cup of tea on the island and leaning down for a kiss.

"I know I'm sorry, here can you put my phone in charge I'm just going to let Abby in, she needed to use our bathroom" you say as you place your cup down and make your way back outside. Ellie rolls her eyes, not wanting to be in the presence of that woman who so clearly wanted you.

"Hungry!" Lila whines and Ellie decides it's time she reheat the dinner she so graciously prepared.

-

"Still need to take a leak?" You question Abby through her rolled down window, she smiles and nods so you lead her into the house.

"You have a nice home" she observes the foyer in all its glory, the glossy orange hue from the midway entries, large vintage light piece glowing through her blue orbs.

“Thank you” you say, as you lead her further into the home.

-

"Abby, evening" Ellie says as she stands behind the island, a pot of spaghetti in hand, Lila is sat on a bar stool, colouring a rather hideous drawing she had made.

"Evening Ellie, sorry for disrupting your dinner but I have to use the restroom" Ellie nods and focuses back on what you're assuming was spaghetti and meatballs, one of very few meals she knew how to make. You show Abby to the bathroom and return to the kitchen.

"Did you cook, dinner?" You ask, coming behind Ellie who was grating a generous amount of cheese onto the meal. You wrap your arms around her waist, peppering kisses onto her neck and back.

"Yes, you know you’re not the only one who knows how to cook around here” she smirks as she plates some of it, opting to give Lila a smaller portion as her appetite was not quite as big as the two of yours.

"Mmmmmm, it smells really good, best way to end the night" you smile as you nuzzle further into her.

"Well there are better ways to end the night" she smiles, looking down at you and you know where this is going.

"Don't be dirty minded" you playfully smack her arm and she laughs at you. "Hey, to be fair you thought it" you can't help but push her again and then look to your left where Abby has now entered the kitchen.

"Oh Abby, everything alright?" You question as she straightens her suit and walks over to you.

"Yeah, thank you for your restroom, I'll be leaving now" she smiles.

"You can stay for dinner" you blurt out, unsure of where the idea had come from. Ellie physically tenses up at your words and turns to you.

"She can, since when?" She says out loud and you roll your eyes at her bluntness.

"It's fine Y/n I wouldn't want to impose, plus my cat is probably due a feeding" she waves off dismissing your invitation.

"Well I suppose another time then" you smile apologetically at her, embarrassed by Ellie’s behaviour. Abby simply nods. You expect her to make her way to the door when once again she walks up to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. Your body freezes up and you turn to gauge Ellie’s reaction.

"I'll see you out" Ellie spits through her teeth and you have to suppress a groan at the obvious strap off the two of them were having.

-

"What are your intentions with my wife?" Ellie asks as she and Abby walk through the halls towards the front door.

"Nothing, I find y/n to be a good friend, you’re lucky to have her" Abby says, trying to make Ellie feel small, or at-least that's what Ellie felt she was attempting. As she towered over her, smirking.

"Good, I'm glad you know your boundaries, just remember that she’s my wife, she belongs to me" they've made it to the door and Abby steps out of the house, Ellie’s left leaning on the frame of the front door, gazing at her with fury.

"Goodnight Ellie, pass my regards to y/n and Lila"

"I will" Ellie lowly spits, she attempts to close the door when Abby suddenly calls her name once more making her halt.

"By the way, tell y/n she can keep my coat for as long as she pleases" Abby is now smirking, as she walks away in the rain, making her way over to her car. Ellie wasn't sure what she was feeling but she sure as hell was seeing red, she was going to kill that motherfucker.

-

"Mmmm" Lila exclaims each time you feed her a mouthful of the spaghetti. Ever since the awkward encounter between Abby and Ellie, the two of you hadn't spoken a word to one another. You were upset that she couldn't be civil with your colleague, but also couldn’t blame her as Abby couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself. You however didn’t understand why Ellie was taking her anger out on you. It’s not like you were entertaining Abby’s advances.

"All done?" You question Lila and she nods, you pick her plate and yours up, place them in the dishwasher and pick up the messy child who was now covered in spaghetti sauce.

"Say Goodnight to momma" you tell her, as she was off to bed from here and you knew she took it very seriously whenever she didn't get to bid Ellie goodnight.

"G'night momma" she says as she leans down and places a kiss on Ellie’s cheek. She mutters goodnight to her daughter, placing a small kiss on her forehead and then proceeds to pack up the table.

After giving Lila a bath and settling the toddler in for the night, you head to your room, deciding it was about time you finally called it a day.

-

"I changed the sheets" Ellie mumbles as you enter the bed, fresh out the shower.

"Thanks" you mumble, as you reach into your bedside table to grab the book you were reading.

"Why did you have her coat on?" You hear her blurt abruptly as you are halfway through your page.

"What kind of question is that?" You now place the book on the side table and gaze at her.

"It's a question, now answer it"

"I know what your stupid question is insinuating Ellie, and I'm offended you would think that lowly of me" she shakes her head and sighs. Honestly you’d had a hell of a day, and weren’t in the mood for her accusations.

"This isn't about what I think of you, she fucking kisses you infront of me, she has no sense of boundaries. I don't trust her and I can tell from the way she acts around you that she wants to be more than friends and you're blind if you can't see that."

Her voice is calm and collected, she must've been utilising the tips Louise had given the two of you during your sessions, about settling conflicts.

"As my wife you should trust me enough to not worry when I'm in the company of those that you don't trust. To assume that I did anything with that woman is unfair and disrespectful" you counter.

"It's jus-"

"If we don't have trust we have nothing Ellie" tears begin to spill down your face and she can't help but feel guilty. You grab your book and phone and climb out of the bed, heading straight for the door.

"Y/n come back!" She urges, but you aren't hearing any of it and exit the room making your way to the guest room.

She felt like shit, she let her greed and selfishness push her into cheating. Not only was she doing that but she was pushing the paranoia she, herself manifested by her own cheating onto you. You didn't deserve this, any of this and she was running out of ways to make things better.

taglist:

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup

[thefederationfiles]

Uh? Hello?

/click/

Cellbit

Uh, hello? I’m not really sure how to start this... suppose I should introduce myself first, I am Cellbit, the new head archivist of the Federation Census Bureau. Still not entirely sure how I landed this position, but I’m not going to refuse it, a promotions a promotion in my eyes.

I was allowed to pick some assistants to help me out, they didn’t really give me a limit on how many I could pick (that they told me about) but I’ve decide to pick three, from various departments within the federation itself. Roier, from exploration, Fit from the clean-up crew and, Etoiles from security, all pretty chill guys, though sometimes ONE of them can get on my nerves…

But I digress.

My predecessor, Bagi, was a very organised woman, and everything, though weirdly done, is actually rather ordered when you think about it for more than five seconds. However, I personally enjoy audio recordings, if find them easier to listen back to if research is needed. For some strange reason however my usual recording equipment wont work, so here we are! With an old tape recorder I found in the desk here.

Anyways, suppose I should start the recording of the actual statement…

On then!

Statement of Phil… no last name given, regarding how he met his wife. Original statement given 23rd of February, 1934. Audio recording by Cellbit, Head archivist of the Federation, Census Bureau, recorded 27th of October 2023, recording begins.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck is HE of ALL people giving a statement, well, consider it a gift! Don’t get so annoyed mate, I only want to repair the relations between us, trust me, just let me tell you my story! It’s a good one.

I first met her when I had supposedly died, I know, very typical of her, but I was just another guy back then! Well, like any self-respecting gentleman, I introduced myself. To say she was confused was an understatement, turns out you’re not meant to be able to speak after death, you’re not even meant to be able to move! Personally, I like to say it was love at first sight, she says, she despised me at first sight. To be fair to her, I was a man who couldn’t die, and her a woman who fed on the dying wishes of men, but plenty of couples have WAY bigger fights when they first meet!

Well, she let me go, I mean she couldn’t really take me, I wasn’t dead. For some reason though, we kept on bumping into each other, always when we were working as well so we could never have a proper conversation. Annoying right? She had to properly prepare the person for consumption, and I always had to get rid of the body! Really hard to flirt when you’re picking up organs that have been thrown against the walls (very messy as well, had to burn that shirt, I liked that shirt…).

To be honest, I always knew that I wasn’t normal, I mean there’s plenty of circumstances I’ve been in where I should’ve died, plenty! I just thought I was a lucky guy, but well, when one survives a hanging, people start to question a bit too much, and well, to put it simply I had to go into hiding! It was rather lonely; I mean don’t get me! It was nice, I made friends with the local crows, they turned into my first murder actually!

Anyways, it was about 25 years or so into this when she visited me, turns out she’d been getting pretty lonely herself! And, well, apparently the other immortal people she knows kept on trying to either fight her or get her to join their own groups, which, just rude! That is not how you get a lady’s attention! So she came to visit since were both so connected with death!

Well, she kept on visiting and eventually I realised everyone who wanted me dead would’ve been dead, so I came out of hiding! That was about 45 years ago, we got married a couple years after and well, you guys know the rest! We started our own group, made a pact with one of the hunts avatars, gotten pretty powerful!

Also I’ve learnt about all the guys and all that, kinda hard not too when you have my job!

Come on now, that’s what you wanted right? A story? A peace offering? Well there you have it! Enjoy, I have a meeting to get too.

/click/

/click/

Well. That was certainly something, I found that statement in the drawers of this desk when I was looking for stationery and thought it a good place to start.

I guess you could say I’m in shock? I mean it really just reassured what I’d already known, I knew stuff existed, I kinda needed too…

Either way, kinda hard to get information on a statement that’s nearly 100 years old, Fit was able to get some information on some serial killings from the 1800’s that he reckons might be related, but I say it’s a bit of a stretch.

/sigh/

Well, better than nothing for the first one! I swear I also heard him talking about an old war buddy…

/click/

[fe-fictions]

Saizo x Corrin Commission (Corrin goes to the nearby tavern to do some recon...and Saizo is not pleased!)

The army had to gather new intel. The Vallites were ruthless, and everyone was exhausted. But to continue forward, you had to use every method of getting new information. Even if that meant scraping the bottom of the barrel. Which, at this point, meant goin

Saizo immediately objected when you volunteered. But you knew he’d be tagging along even if he hadn’t admitted it outright.

So naturally, within a few minutes of your trek into the village, you felt Saizo’s eyes on you, watching his wife’s every movement and making sure nothing bad could possibly happen to you on the walk there.

“You’re welcome to join me, you know. I’ve gotten very good at sensing when you’re nearby.” You glanced back, meeting the sharp glare hidden in the canopy above. The moment you blinked, a red-haired ninja loomed over you, arms crossed.

“This is a waste of time and you know it, Corrin. Why did you volunteer?”

“Because someone has to, and I knew you’d tag along.” You said, earning a flick to the forehead.

“You abuse my devotion. Wasting our time and resources like this is too much. Maybe I should let you go by yourself while I make myself useful at camp.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’d really leave your defenseless, beautiful wife to the whims of strangers in enemy territory?”

“Stop acting foolish.” He flicked your forehead again, “Otherwise I really will abandon you.”

“All right, all right. I’m sorry,” You laughed, before you linked arms and rested your head on his bicep. “Why don’t you be my date tonight? If you’re with me it’ll keep trouble away.”

“Feh. It’ll be a waste of time no matter how we go in, but I’d rather keep an eye on you from a distance. I need to be able to identify as many threats as possible.”

It wasn’t your first foray into the world of greasy food and overflowing mead, but this place was on a whole other level. The place was stuffed with rowdy people clamoring for food and drink, shouting slurred profanities at each other.

It was loud, but at least it was jovial. Nobody would be fazed by a woman with pricked ears in Valla, so your sense for potential danger was low.

“Do you wish for me to stay close?” Saizo murmured in your ear, close enough to hear despite the pub’s intensity. 

“No, I’ll be fine. Go see what you can find- I’ll stay at the bar and do some recon.”

“Be safe.” He squeezed your hand, and faded into the crowd. Reassured that your red shadow wouldn’t be far, you took your place at the counter, placed your order, and got to work.

Within thirty minutes, you were sure it was a failure. After having your shoulders bumped and being startled by boisterous laughter right next to you, it was about time to call it. But as you readied to leave, a large figure entered your peripheral.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?”

Your ears twitched at the unfamiliar voice, finding a man who was definitely too drunk  teetering in front of you. His smile was broad, but his eyes gleamed with mal intent.

“I’m afraid I have some urgent business to attend to, sir.”

“It can’t be that serious if you’re here, of all places- but if you insist, why not leave this shithole and have some fun with me somewhere else?”

“I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! Maybe you just need some more time to loosen up.” The man grinned, gesturing for the bartender. “Bring this pretty little lady another round!”

“Er…well, I suppose, if you insist.” You twisted a lock of hair behind your ear, inviting more intrigue from the heavily inebriated man. He plunked down onto the seat next to you, emboldened by your accepting his invitation.

“Of course! You’ve only just got here, and it’s always exciting to meet new people! Especially a fella as manly as me, buying a drink for a beautiful stranger like yourself.”

“You’re too kind.” You took a swig of the drink, “You’re a local, aren’t you?”

“As local as they come! Want me to show you around?”

“Actually, I don’t suppose you’d know anything about a small town called ‘Lumme’, would you? I was hoping to visit with some family who moved there, but Valla is difficult to navigate.”

“They moved all the way out there? I wouldn’t bother even trying to reach it.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Curiosity piqued, you pressed.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I heard the royal army’s setting up near there. If they haven’t cleared out the village, they’ve certainly blocked it off. You’re better off staying here rather than going that way.”

“But surely if it’s a Vallite citizen, they can make an exception, right? I mean, it is for family, and I haven’t been able to see them in so-”

“And who is this pretty little thing?” A new voice interrupted, this time a rather elegant woman. “You’re way out of this bastard’s league. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, instead?”

“Shut up, you crusty old witch.” The man laughed, throwing a heavy arm around your shoulders. You fought the urge to toss him. “You’re just jealous you didn’t spot her first!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t steal her away…besides, I’m not the only one interested.” 

It wouldn’t take long for it to become a group of three, then four, then five. The man wouldn’t release you from his hold. The noise and the heat was overwhelming.

While some information you pulled from the conversations was worthwhile, it wasn’t enough. You moved to get out from under the brute’s arm, pushing the pint away.

“Thank you for your hospitality, everyone, but I must be going. It’s past-”

“C’mon now!! We’re just starting to have fun!!” The arm you managed to slip from reached out again, this time grabbing your wrist. You took a deep breath, readying your fist to crack the drunkard’s nose. But before you could even turn around, a shadow cut in front of you.

“Let her go.” Saizo’s growl commanded attention, forcing his body between you and the man, and pulling you to his side in a single movement.

“What the hell is this, huh? We were just having a good time with my new lady friend!”

“She isn’t interested. Leave her alone.” He snapped, “I will not repeat myself.”

Saizo did not speak another word to anyone in that tavern. To be fair, he didn’t need to- when they tried to protest, a fierce glare was enough to silence them.

Your husband strode from the town, silently brooding until you were halfway home.

“Saizo, dear- you’re holding me too tight. Can you ease up a bit?”

“Why did you stay so long? It was obvious you weren’t going to get any new information an hour into the night. It was a waste of time, just like I said!”

“Not completely! The village we’re heading to is overrun with Vallites, and there was mention of an alternate route we might be able to take from that suave woman who was talking me up. She didn’t get far into explaining it, but-”

“‘Suave’.” He clicked his tongue, his pace quickening. “Those people were vultures, nothing more. Especially that bastard who wouldn’t keep his hands off you.”

“I mean, we got a lead out of it! And I’m sure you got good surveillance intel, right?”

“I didn’t bother,” He huffed, his gaze forward. “I was watching the crowd for potential threats. It was too dangerous for you to go at all, and to let those varlots close by was-”

“Time out, Saizo.” You tugged your wrist from his grasp, forcing him to stop. “I can handle myself. It’s not like you to intervene.”

“Because you were about to start a fight. I wasn’t going to let you get hurt by acting foolish.”

“Please, I would never lose a fight like that. But now I know why you’re upset.” You hummed, “I can hear your heartbeat is faster, and your body language is more rigid than usual. Your temper flares every time I mention my new friends-”

“-Obnoxious bastards-”

“-Who I was sitting with. You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“Jealous? Of them?!” He was aghast at the thought. “Why would I be jealous of a bunch of drunkards? They simply should not touch a Hoshidan princess with their filthy hands!”

“You didn’t want their filthy hands to touch your wife.” You corrected him, teasing.

“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbled, earning a laugh from his far less serious wife.

“Saizo, c’mon!! I was just kidding!” You hurried after him, closing the distance easily and catching his hand. You threaded your fingers together. “I was teasing, my love, honestly! I know you were looking out for me, like always. You wanted to keep me safe.”

“Of course I do.” He rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to conceal his reddening cheeks. “I care about you too much to let something bad happen to you. Seeing those insufferable morons get so close was right at my limit.”

“I understand. Thank you for looking out for me. I’m so lucky to have you by my side.” 

You stood on your tippy toes, kissing him over the mask. With a growl, his arms wrapped around your waist, the mask disappeared and you were caught in a searing kiss from your dearest one.

You gasped into the kiss, your hands flush against his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath your fingertips. He all but lifted you off the ground to hold you as close as he possibly could. 

It was dizzying when he finally released you, both of you trying to catch your breath. His hand fell to your waist, steadying you from his aggressive display. You laughed softly, leaning into his chest.

“So you’re definitely not jealous, huh?”

“I cannot be sure until we’ve returned home.”

“That’s fair. You need to be thorough in making sure they didn’t do anything untowards.”

“You will not be leaving our room for at least 12 hours. I hope you’re aware of that.” He said before he turned, resuming his march to camp with much more vigor.

Of course you happily trailed along, giddy at the thought that you had a very jealous husband to assuage. Saizo was always the cutest when he was jealous. It was rare to see him so riled up, but knowing it was because he was enamored with you made it adorable.

It also meant he’d be getting teased more…once he was placated, of course.

[bangtanhoneys]

Namjooning - Namjoon & Grace

It was cute to watch Namjoon buzz his little socks off in the passenger seat of her car. He already had accumulated a list of plants that he thought would be suited for her apartment and for her needs, especially since she was going to be getting a cat soon. He had extensively researched local shops and suppliers, had done his own research into each plant and how it needed taking care of, which ones could survive on their own essentially and which ones would bloom lovely with the right amount of care. 

When Grace had gone to Namjoon for some advice over what plants to get for her apartment (they literally lived in the same complex) and which ones wouldn’t be harmful to her future cat, she didn’t realise it would become a thing. She knew he loved plants, his little bonsai tree was proof of that and the amount of plants that used to live at the dorm as well under his care meant she was putting her trust in the right person. 

So he had got his list together, found a trusted shop to go to and arranged with the owners for a private hour for them to buy plants. It had amused her greatly at how serious he was taking this. 

After parking in the back and making their way to the main front door, it was clear that the shop in question was a plant lover's dream. Named the Gardener’ Wife, run by a gardener and his florist wife, it had been in Seoul for the past fourteen years. And it was clear they were going to be the experts in the field.

For Grace, she just showed her bank card and let them have it. 

She found a cart full of Pothos, zanzibar gem, areca palm, spider plant for the cat, and so much more. Her apartment was going to look more like the garden shop than it was an apartment. But at least they were easy to look after and she would only have to give them a water when they needed it.

“Thank you so much,” Grace said as she took her bank card back. “Namjoon is going to have fun now trying to find the right home for all these.”

Namjoon blinked from where he had been looking at a handmade pot, small enough to fit in his hands but large enough to hold a plant. “Isn’t this cute?” he asked, holding up the pot for Grace to see. 

“You’re cute,” she gave as a response and grinned when the dimples came out. “I guess we’ll have that as well.”

The pot found its precious place on Namjoon’s lap and all the plants were secured in the boot. It smelt like a garden nursery in the car, a mix of nature and soil, as well as plastic from the watering can Namjoon had made her get. 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she said as she put the car in neutral when they reached a heavy amount of traffic on the way back to their complex.

“More than welcome, Gigi. Thank you for my pot,” he said as he held it tightly in his hands.

“Just don’t break it. Maybe we should have got you a plastic one,” she teased as she glanced at the younger man next to her. He may be her leader but he was still five years younger than her and you could tell that by the way he glared at her. 

“If this is what you call Namjooning, then I might Namjoon a bit more with you,” she added once the traffic started. 

“I’d be more than happy for you to join me as I Namjoon,” he chuckled as he looked at the pot in his hands then towards the woman he had met all those years ago when he was an early trainee. “Thank you as well, Gigi.”

“For what?”

“For always believing in me.”

“Anytime Namjoon, anytime.”

[fruit-salad-ship]

Pirate AU, Plum and Peach are finally at a point where more personal questions can be asked, a quiet night in a port while the crew let loose and enjoy.

She's got to know, what exactly did peach do for 500 odd years? Tales are told sure but how true are they? Did she slay foul beasts and captain ghostly ships? Was she the one who robbed that barron the one time? Has she really travelled to the bottom of the ocean?

Peach laughs, she's heard the stories, they make their way back to her.

But truth be told, with the crew distracted and Plum becoming something she enjoys, if not even trusts a little, she briefly goes over it.

"I spent the first 10 years hunting the people responsible for my wifes death." she takes a drink, proud she got every last one of them and their familes. wiped the entire bloodlines off the face of the earth through sheer rage and fury. "After that I mourned, another 90-100 years just...coming to terms with it all. Once I could bare to leave the sea caves and start to do thing again, I stole a ship, it was 200 odd years of being a nightmare. Those years alone were what racked up the bounty on my head." A bounty with an unfathomable number attached to it. "I slept around, tried to find company in others to feel some small fragment of love or affecton again, but it was all meaningless. Fought things people didnt believe to be real, stole from the richest, killed the nastiest, became something to truly fear... I think looking back I was lashing out, I was angry at being alone. My crew feared me, not because I was stern and strict, but because I would often lose my cool and snap. There was no rationality then, I had no concequences, nothing to die for, nothing to be killed by, it went to my head. I tried to fill the void with anything and everything." She drinks again, the weight of that old tarnished wedding ring around her neck noticable now. "It didnt work. I grew tired of being the meanest thing out there, just...slowed down, stopped taking work until i needed to for money to drink, stopped hunting people, just kept to myself. Ever since then I just wandered around, waiting for...anything to happen that made sense, gaining more of a reputation every day I didnt age, didnt die, every time someone came to kill me and put holes in me, drowed me, tried to end it. But i just kept surviving, it only strengthened the stories told."

Plum was becoming increasingly aware that the worst rumours no doubt stemmed from that more violent period of time in the womans life, bloody, brutal, inhuman rumours, the ones that stuck in the history books.

"Then you showed up, demanded I join your crew, first person in hundreds of years who bothered to approach me with a proposition." The unspoken truth behind that was that Peach followed for the feeling of familiarity, not the money or her captains inspiring words. "Can't really turn down fates call like that."

"Huh. I'd have thought you'd have spent more time causing problems for people." The smaller woman laughed after saying that, imagining Peach in her prime, at the peak of her ferocity, knowing just how potent she could be when needed now, even though she'd become almost dismissive and docile with people according to the locals and tales about her.

"Well. I've always got time. Never know what the years will bring."

[uenodivision]

It was bright and cheerful on this lovely Christmas morning in Ueno, and Aranai Norikoru was lounging around the living room this Christmas when she heard a knock at the door. Standing up, the pink haired woman walked over to the door and opened it. Only to find a package addressed to her on the doorstep. Bringing it inside Aranai set it on the counter to open it. 

Inside the box was a new motorcycle tool kit. It was black and red and filled with all sorts of tools. Picking it up, Aranai was surprised when something fell out and quickly reached out to grab it. It was a keychain with a shiny pink cherry blossom charm on the end. Finally, she noticed a note, picked it up, and began to read. 

Norikoru,

Merry Christmas. I’m more than likely going to regret this, but here's a new toolbox for that motorcycle of yours. God knows how many hours my wife spent on hers, and I have the feeling you're the same. Also, the key chain is actually from my daughter. The minute she heard I was doing this Secret Santa, she wanted to give you a little something as well. 

– Seiji T.

Aranai had to admit, she certainly didn't expect to receive a gift from the Chief of Police, of all people. He had Boss Lady to blame for this. Ever since the D.R.B. started, more and more teams have been joining up. And for some reason or other, local law enforcement have felt the need to intervene as well. It's like they figured since one cop was already in, that meant that they all should join in.

Not surprisingly, Aranai didn't have a good relationship with the police. Aside from the fact that she was a former rebel without a cause, she hated how the police tended to push their weight around. Oh, she was perfectly aware that there was some good cops out there. The only problem is, the good tended to get mixed in with the bad, which made it hard to tell which was which.

As stated, she didn't really care much for the boys in blue. But because she was on a team with a prosecuting attorney, who worked hand-in-hand with the police, that, unfortunately, meant that she, as a proxy, was forced to work with the police, as well. She worked with them, but she didn't have to like it. And when the time came for her and her team to face a cop in the D.R.B., she was going to enjoy wailing on them.

Looking at the gifts that Seiji had given her, she had to admit, the cop had good taste. He didn't know his wife, but he sure as hell would like to meet her.

"I'd better keep this quiet from Boss Lady," Aranai said. "If she finds out the Chief of Police is giving me gifts, I'll never hear the end of it..."

[wandaluvstacos]

SEASON OF BLOSSOMS

THE THIRD CHAPTER IS UP! (It’s FREE)

Genre: Fantasy Romance Rating: 18+ Elevator Pitch: Bridgerton, but gay and with tieflings. Check out this story’s art under the tag Season of Blossoms

Includes: Mxm, mxf, and nbxm romance, sibling rivalries, romantic drama, fun sexy hijinks all around. This one’s lighter than most of the stuff I write, lol. There is a scene that takes place after an attempted suicide, but I think that’s the only thing that needs to be warned for.

In the nation of Tithly, it is custom that those of marriageable age travel to the city of Philsia for the yearly Season of Blossoms– four summer months of parties meant to provide youth the opportunity to find their spouse. This year will be the first year that all three of the Tsylgahra siblings attend: Mithleem, Anli, and Lisanth.

Three years after his wife’s tragic death, Mithleem has finally decided that he’s ready to start his search for someone new. As one of the top people in his class at the Academy and a successful doctor during his time in the army, he’s a household name and a hot commodity at parties, including one thrown by Tithly’s most renowned painter. There Mithleem is called to the bedside of the painter’s equally famous spouse, Ysaika Talorilau, and it may take someone of Mithleem’s skill to save their life.

Anli’s been to Philsia three times for the Season, but she hasn’t had much luck. This time she meets a young man above her station who shows interest, and despite her misgivings, she’s willing to give him a shot, even if the family’s new steward, Thyla Daschanhildi is quite insistent that Anli deserves better. Anli’s not sure about that, but she knows that Thyla’s only ever been supportive and loyal, sometimes to such a degree that Anli wonders if there’s more to it.

As the youngest Tsylgahra and wild child of the family, Lisanth is interested in racing horses, starting squabbles in the local tavern, and worrying his parents on the nights he doesn’t come home. However, he knows he can’t put off Philsia forever, and at the insistence of his mother, Lisanth grudgingly makes the journey with his siblings to the City in the Sky. There he meets a stranger who wields charm with just a hint of danger. Only later does Lisanth come to realize that the stranger is in fact a prince– Prince Jafkar A’nesh to be exact.

Excerpt:

            Anli chuckled and rolled her eyes before her attention was caught by another stepping through the front door. It was not the elderly Sir Gasil but someone in a similar uniform of black boots, dark brown trousers, tweed vest, and puffy-sleeved white shirt underneath. Sir Gasil’s wardrobe always looked about three stitches away from falling apart, but this woman—person?—looked much younger and much sharper in it. She looked like a woman and her silhouette implied as much, but she was probably as tall as Mithleem, if not more so, and she had the strong shoulders of someone who labored regularly. Her deep violet complexion clashed with the shocking pale lilac of her hair, which was curiously cut short in a fashion Anli had not seen on many others. She had horns rooted above each ear that curved upward, which, combined with her purple skin, made Anli think she was Tavuli, a group of people from a mountainous and hard-to-reach region just outside Tithly’s southern border.

            The woman headed down the steps and opened the wrought iron gate to join the crowd. When Mrs. Harpum spotted her, she let out a little oh! before rushing to the newcomer’s side and pushing her in front of Anli’s mother.

            “This is Thyla Daschinhildi, the steward you wanted me to hire! She comes with impeccable references and served in our armed services during the war as a corporal.”

            Thyla bowed to Anli’s mother. “It’s an honor to meet you, Madam Tsylandar. I know I can’t replace Sir Gasil, but I wish to assist you in any way I can.”

            “Oh my, aren’t you…” Anli’s mother cut herself off before giving Thyla a quick once-over. “You’re very tall.”

            Thyla smiled in a way that seemed genuine. “You’re not the only one who has thought so.”

[cosplayinamerica]

Not all heroes wear capes; however, in the appropriately comic book sounding League City, Texas, there’s one hero who certainly does, and his good deeds are getting noticed. That hero is Dash Gordon, alter-ego of gregarious, family man Timothy Glover, whose early attempts to connect with his community while DoorDashing morphed into a life of its own.

Glover recounted, “On November 21st, 2021, my wife was sick, and I wanted to take us on one last big vacation. I felt like I needed to do something proactive that would get her out of the house, get her moving around, and we could be a dynamic duo together in the process. So I said to her, ‘let’s DoorDash’”.

“We’d ride around together, and she’d help me find the numbers for the apartments and the doors on the houses. After two months of Dashing, I wondered why aren’t people coming to the door? There was no social interaction whatsoever, and I couldn’t deal with that. So I said “I’m going to call myself Dash Gordon, like Dash from DoorDash, and Gordon from Jeff Gordon cause he’s really fast, and I’ll combine the two and I’ll be Dash Gordon.”

“So I started sending GIFs and emojis using the Flash and Flash Gordon to customers as I was delivering, or right before I’d get to their door, and they liked it. They’d laugh back or send something funny, but they still weren’t coming to the door at the magnitude I was wanting.”

That’s when Glover decided to take it up a notch, and made a purchase that helped set up his entire journey.

Glover continued, “I turned to my wife and asked ‘Would you order this? It’s a Flash costume. It’s pretty generic, not really expensive, and I think people will come to the door more, they’ll tip more, and it’ll help with our goals to go on our vacation’. So a couple weeks went by, and the costume came in, and I put Dash Gordon on my uniform. And I started dashing like that and it caused quite a stir.”

Glover’s big gamble paid off, as he was meeting more people at the door than ever.

Glover recalled, “If I did 10 dashes, 9 of them would come to the door. They wanted to see the spectacle.”

What Glover did next though is what truly set his hero journey in motion, as he answered the call of someone not needing food from DoorDash, but help from their community.

“A woman posted in a local Facebook group saying she was struggling,” Glover mentions. “She was putting her feelings out there, and I felt really bad because no one was really giving her guidance, so all I did was type in that thread ‘Dash Gordon to the rescue.’ I then instant messaged her and asked ‘what do you need’, and she said ‘I’ve got a roof over my head, I’m in government housing, but I’m struggling to buy diapers and wipes for my child’. So I said ‘give me sometime and I’ll message you back’”.

“So then I put the costume on, I went through my neighborhood, I got donations to get diapers, wipes, and I even got some extra money to give her some for the next couple weeks,” said Glover.

This one charitable act then caught the attention of the local community. Dash Gordon was asked to join Helen Hall Library’s Pop-Up Storytimes, a storytime event for children, teens, and adults. Then he was also featured in a local documentary all about Dash Gordon. Leigh Kirkland wrote the story, and it went on to win a Savvy award.

Glover emphasized “It was a big deal.”

That’s when the Houston media market really took notice. Dash was on the morning news, afternoon news, and newspaper articles began to be written about Dash. What gave Glover a spark though for what to do next, was when non-profits and individuals in his community began to reach out, including special needs organizations, victims of human trafficking, and others needing help.

Glover then realized “We’re creating a community superhero.”

Like many heroes, Glover’s origin story was not always an easy one.

Glover recalled his childhood, “I’m a foster kid. I spent a lot of time in six foster homes. I was in two shelters and finally put into an orphanage. I was adopted at the age of nine by a family that didn’t really know how to raise kids. It was a little bit borderline abusive. I left at the age of 17 and headed to Rochester, New York, where I found my real parents. I got to spend five months with them before they passed away.”

Glover had to grow up quickly in the years following.

“After my parents passed, I was back on my own, got married at a young age, had four children, and went into the military. While in the military I went to culinary school, came out then got a job as a chef.”

Glover’s natural affinity with people propelled him into his next role where he hoped to be a beloved car salesman.

“I thought people liked them. I didn’t realize people didn’t like car salespeople,” Glover said.

Glover’s family grew to six kids, but then after a divorce, he moved to Houston. There he met his wife.

Glover remarked, “I’ve been married to my wife for 13 years, and she backs this Dash Gordon escapade. She keeps me grounded, because when you start achieving this level of popularity it's easy to get a real big head.”

What Dash Gordon has achieved in that time is rather incredible and speaks to the love from his community for his efforts and the outpouring support he’s received. And Glover understands that what matters overall is not the man under the mask, but how he’s able to use Dash Gordon’s abilities to provide platforms to speak for many whose stories don’t get such attention. In only ten months time as Dash Gordon, Glover’s focused on some incredibly important issues and underserved communities, including those with special needs and abilities.

“We’re partnering with Bitty & Beau's coffee shop. They are a coffee shop just for special needs employees. We’re getting League City a place called Howdy Homemade ice cream. They make their own ice cream, and they only employ those with special needs and abilities. They want to work. They want to do everything every other person wants to do. They don’t want to be [treated] differently. I don’t think people get that.”

Glover also connected with victims of human trafficking, and showcased the story of Nikki’s family and her daughter Mady’s story on his YouTube channel.

“Human trafficking is tough [to discuss], and the story I did with Nikki was very emotional and hard to get through. But that story was able to help get traction with Maddie’s movement.”

In addition to these causes, Glover also wants to highlight awareness of animal abuse, suicide prevention, veterans assistance, foster/adoption care, spouse shelters for women and children, autism, and mental health. All of which together help make-up the seven platforms that Dash Gordon tries to help and bring awareness to.

Glover remarked, “Those are huge things people don’t want to wrap their arms around. We want to put them in people’s faces, and we let a superhero do it. Because Dash has a voice now and people are using the voice to get what they need to get done.”

I asked Glover if he did anything himself for his mental health and to help him cope with hearing these heavy stories.

Glover replied, “A couple months ago I sat back and was frustrated. I thought to myself what are we doing here, and I told my partner Ben maybe I’d cut off social media for a couple weeks and take a break. He said “We cannot do that. There’s too many people depending on us. So I started meditating, taking small breaks, and getting good sleep. Everyone asks what I'm bad at, and it’s getting good sleep.”

That seems to have helped, as Glover’s found balance in his life and his purpose as Dash Gordon.

“I’m in a good mental place. I’ve gone through so much in my life that it’s hard to believe I’m standing here today where I’m at and I don’t have a lot of problems. I’m not on drugs. I didn't get wrapped up with a bunch of junk that ruined my life. I was able to somehow keep it together.

Glover’s faith has also helped carry him along these past months.

Glover remarked, “Whether you’re a believer of God or not, I just believe He’s had a hand on me and guided me through this whole journey. I finally had an epiphany while meditating that I’m just the vessel that’s delivering the goodness, the help, and the hope that people need. Someone else is driving the car, and once I relinquished that I’m not driving I was in a pretty good place.”

Glover spoke of his family often during our interview, and I was particularly curious how his children felt about their Dad dressing up as Dash Gordon.

“I have eight kids. Out of the eight kids I think I have two who are real supporters. The others either don’t follow it, don’t care, or hate it.”

Of course regardless of their feelings on Dash Gordon, Glover keeps his kids, and today’s kids, in his mind as he tries to make a positive impact on the world.

“I worry about the next generation. I worry about the kids being born now and what’s going to happen to them. But I don’t think they are lost at all, and in fact I think they’re really smart. But I think they’re fighting for things like freedom and to be different, much like the fights in the 50s and 60s. And is there anything wrong that? Is there anything wrong with being different? That’s why we are so diverse, because we are all so different. The world’s not a square and everyone fits in it. It just doesn’t work that way.”

I enquired further as to what advice Dash Gordon would give the next generation growing up today.

Glover said, “Never dream too little. Go big. Don’t ever strive for perfection. Strive to be excellent, just because you may slip and fall. Accept help sometimes. Especially for young people, I tell them to look internally. Where are you headed, and what do you really want out of life? Be respectful, and have a little bit of compassion, because in everything you set out to do people will give you advice when you need it. [That can help] take you to the [highest] level that you can achieve.”

One way this message has started to reach younger people is through a new series of books based on Dash Gordon created by local author Renne Siewers.

“The book covers the seven platforms we represent. There’s a story and it’s very easy to read for the special needs community, and all the illustrations were designed by the author. There’s a second book coming out in the series called Dash Gordon 2.0, which will tell how Dash Gordon came into existence.”

Glover is never one to let free time idle by, and as such he’s always looking for what more he can do. His wife’s suggestion last December led them on a path that’s allowed them to help hundreds more than ever before.

“I was looking for something more to do for the special needs community, and my wife suggested a winter formal. I said ‘there’s only three weeks till Christmas?’ and she replied “You can do it. You’re Dash Gordon’”.

Glover set about to create the event, and in part thanks to Glover’s familiarity with a venue, and the venue’s generosity to waive all fees, they were able to get the venue space for free. They got a flier created from a member of an Autistic mothers support group, and more assistance poured in, and they hosted the event the next day.

Glover remarked, “It was a smash hit. Way more people than we ever expected.”

This led to even more levels of exposure for Dash and the causes he’s been supporting. Ben, Dash’s partner and photographer/videographer, then suggested the next major step for Dash.

Glover recalled, “Ben said to me, ‘you need to start a Dash Gordon foundation’. I said ‘Really? You think so?’”

Glover was uncertain if they had grown to that point, but Ben emphasized how generous everyone’s been to the cause. “You did not have to raise money for the winter formal. Everyone helped to chip in to your cause to help the special needs community with the event.” Glover then agreed.

Word spread quickly of their plan and two days later they were contacted by a bank that stepped in to donate their time, and their services, to set up the Dash Gordon as a 501c3 non-profit. Now with the foundation created they’ve begun to set up other events, including their next one ‘Dash Into the 80’s”, which filled to capacity in just over two hours time.

Glover’s impact continues to be infectious. When asked about what he’s had to do to get further community involvement, he emphasized “I started just DoorDashing to go on vacation. I never reached out to anyone for any publicity. I never asked for money. I never made a phone call. Everything that happened was all organic.”

Ultimately I was curious if Dash Gordon could ever see ‘more Dashes’ in other cities.

Glover said, “What we’ve created is a real life superhero, and yeah he’s not out flying around, but he’s showing a genuine concern for people. He’s doing everything he can to make any moment of their life better, whether it’s a smile, a laugh, or showing up at an event, comforting a family, getting them food, or the things they need to try to get by. Anything we can do, we are going to do it.”

“Not yet,” Glover replied. “But it could definitely be bigger than Houston. It takes a lot to put on a leotard to walk around. I’m not in the most perfect shape, and to go out and be judged and people think it’s wacky [can be difficult], but I really didn’t care. I knew there’d be a shock factor, and people would take pictures, but I knew that there was more [I could do].”

Time will tell how many others will continue to be inspired by Glover and Dash Gordon’s incredible work in League City, but perhaps the next time you receive a friendly Door Dasher, or need help and ask for some through social media, maybe you too will see a friendly superhero near you step up to assist, or maybe you can become one.

—————————————————————

The Dash Gordon Foundation / IG / FB / YT / TikTok

STORY : Michael Miller  // PHOTO: Elizabeth Conley

[singledarkshade]

Curses

Part Three

“I can sense evil within these walls.”

Sophie, once again dressed in her Madame Zathustra costume, walked dramatically through the house with Moonflower watching her.

“It wants your energy,” Sophie continued, flouncing as she kept the other woman’s attention solely on her which allowed Breanna and Harry to get out of the house and back to the food truck.

“Can you stop it?” Moonflower asked.

“My dear child,” Sophie cooed, “I will do what I can. First, we need to connect you to the spirit of the house and find where this object is hiding.”

Moonflower frowned, “How do we do that?”

“We need to talk to the spirits within the house,” Sophie told her, “My assistant has brought the equipment necessary, and I have called an acquaintance to help me contact such a dangerous spirit, but we need at least one more person. Do you have any friends here in town? Someone close to you.”

“I just moved here but…” she paused for a moment, “I know someone I can ask.”

Sophie smiled, “They must be here before midnight.”

“He will be,” Moonflower replied, “I’ll call him now. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll make us some tea while we wait for them?”

Sophie nodded, “That sounds wonderful, and I’ll have the peach blossom tea please,” she said as she walked out the room.

Heading back to the living room, Sophie murmured, “And she’s calling?”

“Her friend the judge,” Breanna told her, before letting out an ooh, “They seem to be more than friends. Something his wife does not know about.”

Sophie chuckled, “That’s good to know. Hardison, are you joining me?”

“I am looking forward to this one,” Hardison chuckled before asking, “How weird do you want me to be?”

“Go big,” Sophie told him.

She heard him laugh in her ear and could see in her mind the childish grin on his face.

“Parker,” Sophie asked, “Are you watching the judge?”

“Yep,” Parker said, “He may be evil but the air ducts over his office are very comfortable.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, babe,” Hardison reminded her, “We need what’s in his safe.”

Parker huffed, “Fine. Even if he’s got one of the easiest in the world to open. Harry could have opened it when we first met him.”

Harry sighed, “Why am I still the low bar?”

“Just get the information on the judge we need,” Sophie told Parker before anyone could say any more.

                         *********************************************

 “What did you find out?” John asked Rip as they walked the streets of New Orleans.

“The woman that Zathustra is after is called Moonflower Watson,” Rip told him.

John snorted, “Moonflower? Please tell me her parents didn’t call her that?”

“Birth name is Marge,” Rip replied, “Looks as though she changed it herself.”

“In some ways that’s even worse,” John rolled his eyes.

Ignoring his friend, Rip continued, “Something off about the information in the local database, Geoffrey is doing a deeper check but from the basic details he found she’s just inherited a house and an antique collection from her late estranged father. Although again, something doesn’t sit right with me in this.”

John grimaced, “Like what?”

“Geoffrey has found multiple calls between Miss Watson and the judge who ruled on her case against the niece of the deceased,” Rip explained, he frowned, “It’s possible she’s stolen this inheritance.”

Rolling his eyes, John sighed, “Doesn’t matter, still can’t let the witch go after her. What one do you want?”

“I’ll take the magic one,” Rip stated sarcastically, “Nothing can go wrong that way.”

“Smug bastard,” John muttered before sighing, “Give me the address and I’ll make sure that she hasn’t managed to manifest anything yet. You check into the judge.”

Rip tapped his courier, and the address was sent to John’s phone, “Keep in touch.”

“You too,” John said catching his friend’s shoulder, “If you need to…”

“I will,” Rip cut his friend off before he opened a portal and walked through.

When Rip disappeared, John called to the empty air, “Oh no, I’ll walk.”

 -

 Stepping out the portal into the alley just behind the building, Rip looked around checking his surroundings. He paused, feeling a few tremors through his body and took a few deep breaths. Gideon was going to lecture him for at least a day once she found out he’d left the base for a mission before he had recovered fully, but he did owe John. Not to mention he knew how dangerous Zathustra and the Jade Child could be. And to do this, Rip needed to be at his best. Meaning Gideon was not going to be pleased at all.

A man left the building and Rip recognised him as the judge who awarded the inheritance to Miss Watson, part of him wanted to follow the man but another part felt it was a better idea to find out all he could about this inheritance case.

Walking into the building, Rip frowned when his courier showed the security cameras were not actively recording, instead they had been looped remotely.

“Intriguing,” he murmured, “Geoffrey, scan the system. Can you find me who has looped the security cameras?”

“Not directly, Captain Hunter,” Geoffrey informed him, “The systems have been infiltrated by an experienced and talented hacker.”

“Well at least we’re up against someone who is good at their job,” Rip sighed, “Where is the Judge’s office?”

“End of the hall and turn left,” Geoffrey told him, “Third door on the right.”

Rip walked softly through the corridors making sure that he would not be caught on camera, even though they were currently not recording live. Reaching the corner, Geoffrey suddenly spoke again.

“There is someone in the office,” Geoffrey told him.

Rip frowned, “Who?”

“Unknown but she is currently rifling through the judge’s safe.”

“Interesting,” Rip murmured, he moved and slid a small drone to the door activating it so he could see inside the room.

Checking the feed on the courier, Rip frowned as he watched the blonde looking through the safe, she was talking to herself, tossing things out her way that she wasn’t interested in before taking an envelope. Rip grimaced, hoping that was not what he’d been looking for, but he was almost completely sure it was. Confirmed when he heard her let out a soft cry of triumph before saying, “Watson.”

Heading out the building he had the drone follow the woman so he could run into her and retrieve the information himself.

Holding out his hand, Rip saw the tiny tremors and knew he needed to stop them for a while at least.

“Captain, is that wise?” Geoffrey asked as Rip took out a small silver tube out of his pocket.

“Possibly not,” Rip replied pressing the end to his wrist and injecting himself, “But right now it’s my only option.”

Rip reached the car park and spotted the blonde practically skipping out the building.

“Oh good,” Rip waved to her acting like Phil, but with his own accent, “A person. Sorry to bother you but I’m here on holiday, went for a walk, I got turned around and I’m lost. To add to the fun my phone is dead. You wouldn’t happen to know how to get back to the Lillian hotel?”

The woman looked at him suspiciously, but Rip knew his accent and Phil’s physicality sold the tourist bit and choosing the name of one of the more boutique hotels helped.

“You’re not that far away,” she said, “Head back the way you came and turn right when you leave the carpark, walk six blocks and you’re there.”

Rip shook his head, “I’m so glad my wife isn’t here. You have no idea how mocked I will be if she finds out,” offering his hand, Rip smiled when she shook it, “Thank you for your help.”

Heading away he made sure it looked as though he was following her instructions before he opened the portal and headed back to his base with the envelope he’d lifted from the blonde woman in his pocket.

 -

 Parker watched the man walk away making sure he was gone before she headed for the car to return to the offices and check the information that she’d taken from Judge Green’s safe. Annoyance, and indignation filled her to discover that the man she’d given directions to had actually picked her pocket.

Eliot was never going to let her forget this.

She vowed revenge against whoever he was but also began to wonder why this man had wanted the information she had and what his connection was to their marks.

“Someone stole from you?” Hardison asked slowly, after Parker explained what had happened as she headed to the car.

She pursed her lips together, easily able to envision Hardison’s bemused face and her jaw clenched even more. She swung the car out of the carpark making several other cars honk at her.

“Do you have any idea where he went?” Sophie asked before anyone could make another comment to irritate Parker.

“He asked about the Lilian Hotel,” Parker said, “But that could have been just a ruse.”

“Still best to check it out,” Sophie mused, “Eliot, can you and Jonas take the food-truck and go have a look for this man, try to retrieve the documents we need them to get the judge. Jonas, stay in the van. Parker, I need you here at the house to help with the séance.”

Parker let out an annoyed huff before saying, “Fine. But if you do find him, then I want him kept somewhere I can take a piece of him. I also want to steal his coat.”

“Coat?” Jonas asked suddenly.

“Fine,” Sophie said, “Back to work everyone.”

 -

 Hardison was dressed all in black and after Parker had mentioned a coat, he found a long black one which would give him an impressive entrance. Reaching the door, he knocked and stood waiting, he held his hands in front of his face with his fingers and thumbs pressed together.

“I am here,” he intoned when Moonflower opened the door, “The spirits have called me.”

Sophie stepped forward, “My dear friend, Phantasma. It has been too long.”

Hardison dipped his head, “Zathustra, you are still as beautiful and bright as your aura.”

“This is Moonflower,” Sophie introduced, resting her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, “She is the one I have called you here to help.”

Hardison looked at the other woman and giving a horrified gasp cried dramatically, “Your aura is dark, a shadow has covered it like oil. We must clean it.”

“Which is why I asked you here,” Sophie smiled at him before turning to Moonflower, “All we need now is your friend.”

“He’s on his way,” Moonflower told them.

Hardison nodded, “Excellent.”

                         *********************************************

 Rip sat on the couch gripping the arm as he waited for the painful tremors to stop.

“Captain Hunter,” Geoffrey said, “You should not have used the stabiliser, it has interfered with your treatment.”

“I get enough lecturing from Gideon,” Rip snapped through gritted teeth, “I knew what I was doing. We need this information.”

Geoffrey said nothing, the silence speaking volumes.

��I didn’t think any AI other than Gideon could do passive aggressive,” Rip muttered, sighing as the tremor finally subsided, “How long until I can get my next treatment?”

“Three hours is the best option,” Geoffrey told him, “But I can give you it within the next twenty minutes at the earliest although I advise against it.”

Rip nodded, “Prepare it while I look over what I have. Did you find any information on who looped the cameras and who the woman I lifted these from is?”

“I do, Captain,” Geoffrey told him, “The woman had multiple aliases, but I managed to find a record to confirm her true identity. The hacker is connected with her.”

“On screen,” Rip ordered, staring in amazement when he read the information. “Is this right?” he demanded.

Geoffrey’s hologram appeared before him, “Of course, Captain.”

“I stole something from Parker?” he laughed, “One of the greatest thieves of all time.” He paused as realisation sunk in, “This is Leverage, we’ve somehow ended up crossing paths with the main Leverage team.” He gave a laugh again as this was a group of people he’d never expected to meet before he grimaced, “Bollocks, John. Geoffrey, call him.” “Mr Constantine is not answering his phone.”

Rip sighed, “Of course he isn’t.”

“Captain, I have scanned the city for the communications web that the Leverage team used,” Geoffrey told him, “I have located two of their team at the Lilian hotel. I believe they are looking for you.”

Rip chewed his lip in thought, “Scan the documents, once I have my treatment then I’ll return the information. I have a feeling they need it to put away someone hurting people.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And keep trying Constantine.”

[quite-possibly-haunted]

My area of expertise is 17th-18th century England and America, so this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but:

The window in between “a bank account becoming a thing that the average person needs to have” and “women being allowed to have bank accounts” is smaller than a lot of people might think! In medieval Europe, a bank was somewhere you would go to get a large loan, or to exchange money into the local currency if you were traveling, etc—all things modern banks do, of course, but also things most people were unlikely to need. And the idea of having a bank *account* is much more recent.

Now, on to the topic of women. Unmarried women owning their own money/property is something that comes up quite often in 17th-18th century legal documents—specifically, widows. Legally, women were, essentially, considered an extension of their husbands, so widows could easily continue owning the land/businesses that their husbands had had. 18th-century Paris was chock-full of businesses run by widows (at least, if my memory of a book I read 4 years ago serves me). Legally, in England, a husband was required to leave his wife a minimum of 1/3 of his property in his will, but it was extremely common for a man to leave his wife everything he owned with the explicit instructions that she could divide things among their children however she pleased.

An excellent example of the whole “woman is an extension of her husband” thing, and how widows could use it to their advantage, is a woman named Elizabeth Warren whose husband Richard came over on the Mayflower. In 1626 he was granted the status of Purchaser (basically a privileged type of shareholder in the colony, any more thorough explanation of the concept would require a lengthy lecture on the economics of Plymouth Colony). In 1628, he died, and the other Purchasers voted UNANIMOUSLY to give his former position to his widow. Elizabeth remained a Purchaser for as long as the status existed, and went on not only to administer Richard’s lands, but to buy a considerable amount more and become one of the wealthiest people (not women, *people*) in the colony. She also got sued multiple times in Plymouth court, proving that she was considered a legal entity in her own right.

Of course, that’s just widows. What about women who simply chose never to marry?

In any Catholic country (aka all of Europe until the 16th century), the choice for a woman who doesn’t want to marry is obvious: become a nun. Of course, all nunneries were different, but some nuns were able to become highly educated and were well-respected individuals (the most famous example being Hildegard von Bingen). It was also possible, though rare, for an educated woman to remain single and unattached to any religious organization: Europe’s first female mathematics professor, Maria Agnesi, was supported by her wealthy family for her entire life.

Of course, in Protestant countries post-Reformation, becoming a nun was no longer an option. For the vast majority of women, this simply meant they had no choice but to get married. Marriage wasn’t simply about social pressure in this time, it was also pure survival—both “men’s work” and “women’s work” were utterly necessary, and any household that was missing one half of that equation was not going to last long. Financially independent women could just hire male servants to do the men’s work, but those were almost always widows, since there were few other ways to become financially independent.

And then, in the mid-17th century, the religious landscape of England EXPLODED. New sects were being founded left and right, many of which no longer exist, but some (like Baptists and Quakers) do. And women were right in the thick of it. Unmarried women joined (and sometimes led) these groups, finding community in religion in a way not unlike what their medieval forebears did in becoming nuns.

Some female prophets (like the Baptist Anna Trapnell) wandered England preaching the Gospel. More often, women attached themselves to groups led by men. Quaker preacher James Nayler notably had a group of female followers who were interrogated about his beliefs after he was arrested for blasphemy.

In America, the Great Awakening(s) allowed for even more unmarried women to join religious movements. Leaders of new movements took advantage of recently-colonized land to start entire towns from scratch, with society structured according to their (often unorthodox) beliefs. The Shakers, for example, believed that all contact between men and women was sinful. The Oneida Community went in the exact opposite direction, practicing communalism of both property and sex, with a doctrine of “free love” that did away with marriage entirely. According to modern studies of the community, women there enjoyed a lot of freedoms and opportunities they did not in the outside world. How enticing this was to other women can be seen in the case of Tryphena Hubbard, a young woman who joined the community against her father’s will (the ensuing court case nearly ended the movement).

I am personally of the opinion that a lot of the proliferation of “wacky cults” in the 17th-19th centuries can be chalked up to women who, in a past century, would’ve become nuns.

Anyway, that was a lot of information, and I’m not sure if any of it was what you were actually interested in. I just saw an opportunity to infodump about early modern women’s history and took it.

History side of Tumblr: What did unmarried women do back in the days before they could have their own bank accounts? Was their money just technically the property of their closest male relative? What if they didn't have any male relatives?

Could they own/be willed property or did that also belong to a male relative?

[chimerathewriter]

Blame it on the Palm wine

Okoye x Attuma

pt.2

Guerrero, a táan u kaxtik = Warrior I was looking for you

<........................................................................................................................>

After some weeks away from the Golden City, Okoye got called from M’baku and the council about her treacherous husband W’kabi.

“ Your Highness, you have called me, is W'kabi alright?”.I t had been two months and she had not received any news from her husband, and when she tried to visit him they would not allow her access.

“ Yes we want to tell, we have freed him two months ago, he’s in the United States with his wife and he’s asking for divorce” the leader of the Border Tribe M’Kathu, the room fell into silence, they were all expecting a reaction from her.

“ I’ve heard that many criminals have been given the grace, when?”

“ When what? My child” the leader continued to talk

“ When did he get married to another wife?” she asked

“ Exactly when he got released”

“ Wasn’t I enough as a wife?”

“ Okoye my child" the man tried to say something

“ I’m not you child, please answer my question I have other things to do”

“ Okoye you are the strongest warrior we have, we respect you but you are not anymore a young wife, and the border tribe need a new heir” the head of the tribe said, without making him continue she greeted the king and exited

While leaving the palace she heard her ex comrades calling her name, but the humiliation was too much, the shame was too much to stop. She was the Dora Milaje who let N’Jadaka ascend to the throne and let her husband betray and almost killed King T’Challa, and now the same husband left her because it seems she was too old to bear children. She went to the local street restaurant and bought two bottles of palm wine. She didn’t wait to go home, she opened one bottle and started to drink up all her feelings.

She didn’t care if people were looking at her, she had already lost her title as general, her honor and her husband, the alcohol was already making its effect, her head felt light and mind was cloudy, finally she came back home threw her phone on the couch and dragged herself in the backyard. 

“Bhast I’ve been your most loyal servant. Is this how you repay me?” Okoye whispered opening the second bottle, she started to remove her shoes and undress , she laid on the cold floor and look at the sunset, the sky was turning orange, young maidens were leaving the river after a long day of fetching water.

Mothers were calling their children to come back home and fishermen were collecting  their last fishing net of the day and check their results,and there she was all alone almost finishing two bottle of palm wine.

She sighed, she looked at the crystal clear water for a moment and decided to dive in, at that moment she wanted the river to drag her away and take her towards the sea

The sky was still golden; she no longer heard laughter, only the humming of crickets and the distant trumpeting of elephants, and like water his mind began to flow.

"Now that traitor and I are no longer connected, we have nothing more to talk about. What a coward, he didn't even come and say it to my face. Okoye I can't be with you anymore because I find you too old to give me a child. If I want, I can have any man at the snap of my fingers" she thought, she was swimming back to the porch when suddenly she felt two hands on her hips.

"What..." she stirred, a head emerged and the woman relaxed,

"Guerrero, a táan u kaxtik"  Attuma said, they reached the porch the man turned immediately blue

"Attuma you scared me, what are you doing here?" the woman asked flustered, putting on her pants in a hurry.

"You didn't come to training today," he explained, analyzing her reactions.

"The king and the council have summoned me, I'm sorry I made you waste your time" she said sitting down wetting her feet, the man joined her.

" What is that?" he pointed to the bottle

"It contains palm wine, it's alcohol" she explained, passing him the bottle, the Talokanil looked at the bottle and then at the woman.

"Warrior, you never drink alcohol" he said confusedly, after the battle their two rulers decided that every month Attuma and other warriors would come to Wakanda to train with Wakandian warriors. The ex Dora Milaje had always said that she drank alcohol only in difficult moments.

"Are you okay? guerrero," he asked, involuntarily jerking her thighs apart

"Yes I just wanted to drink" she tried to play down the moment, without taking her gaze away, he took off his mask

“You would never drink alcohol unless you were upset.” He leaned closer, making her heart pound, she assumed it was just the alcohol and its effects.

"My husband, no ex-husband received pardon for betraying the country two months ago, he left the country with his new wife without my knowledge" she said realizing her rival's, hands were resting on her thighs

"Why did he remarry?"

"Apparently I wasn't enough to satisfy him as a wife," she kept talking, avoiding his gaze. The two were silent for a while, it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable

"He let a great woman go," he said as he sipped his drink

"How's the taste?"

"Neither sweet nor bitter, but it's pretty strong, still you shouldn't be upset about a usurper"

"I know this but, I  failed Queen Ramonda, I lost my title of general, and now to top it all off my husband who tried to usurp the throne is leaving me for a woman younger than me only because I probably can't give him a son" 

She said trying to get up, but slipped and ended up in the water.

"I'm a lost case" she whispered to herself, the man looked at her and dived, he took her hips, they were about to go back up but she stopped

"Wait I want to stay like this a little longer" she said as she gripped his arms, their foreheads touching.

"It's his loss, not yours. I'd be honored to be your husband," he whispered into her ear, she sneezed.

"If we continue like this you'll catch a cold" she reached the door of her house

"I don't think I'll be coming to practice tomorrow," she said

"All right" and he dived, leaving the warrior alone.

She went home, changed and lay down in bed, trying to forget what had just happened. She couldn't, she couldn't forget how close they were, and she wished his hands had held her tighter. That night she had promised herself that she would never drink palm wine again.

[helloalycia]

a new life [two] // layla el-faouly

summary: you need to start making changes in your new life, but you're not sure you can get used to being 'just friends' with Layla, no matter how hard you try.

warning/s: none.

author's note: here’s part 2 to the few people reading this haha, hope you like it!

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

It wasn't easy to accept that my life wasn't how I remembered it to be. In fact, it was a lot harder than I ever could have imagined.

After my breakdown following Layla's visit, I kept to myself. It wasn't intentional, but leaving my room would only remind me of what I'd lost out on, what had changed, so it was just easier to isolate myself and wallow in self-pity. It didn't help that my boxes from almost moving out were still stacked in the corner of my bedroom, constantly reminding me of what could have been.

At one point, I figured I should probably pack everything away since moving out was no longer my reality anymore, but it was probably a silly move since everything in there brought back bittersweet memories from my life with Layla. Photos, mementos, things she'd given me... I even found my phone, which I must have packed by accident or someone had thrown in here after I vanished. After charging it up, all I found were more painful memories of my old life. Photos of Layla and I, videos of us together at university, plans of our new place together.

I hadn't spoken to Layla since she'd visited and I was glad she was giving me the space because I had no idea what I would have said to her. It wasn't her fault, none of it was, but I couldn't bring myself to face her when I felt how I did. Even being with my mum hurt, watching her worry about me when I should have been a grown woman with a life of my own. There was something wrong with me and I didn't know how to fix it.

All the self-pity and isolation must have worried my mum more than she'd let on because after two weeks of it, she encouraged me to join a support group. Apparently she'd seen something about it around town when getting some groceries. It was a dedicated support group for people like me who had come back from the snap and couldn't deal with it. I didn't want to go, not at first, but after giving it a bit more thought, I knew it would be for the best. I wanted to get better and not feel so shitty, so I agreed to attend.

So, that's how I found myself sat in a circle of strangers at my local community centre. The attendees were a mixture of people whom I hadn't met before, all different ages. The person leading it, some qualified therapist, was patient with all of us and never pressured anyone to speak if they didn't want to which was lucky for me because I wasn't inclined to air my dirty laundry to a bunch of strangers.

Others seemed to like to speak though, and shared stories of how they were struggling to reintegrate back into society. It was comforting to know there were others like me who had missed out on so much, but it also hurt to know we were all going through it.

Everybody was experiencing different things – missing major milestones in their families lives, grieving over lost loved ones, being confused at what they would do next. I wasn't sure I was even supposed to be here because my problems seemed so small compared to, say, the guy who had returned to find his wife had remarried in his absence. But I stayed because of my mum and because I hoped it could help me, even a little.

"We've had a few newcomers in the past week which is great to see," Jayne, the lead therapist, was saying one session, "and I would never force anybody to speak if they don't want to, but I thought that it might be nice to have someone new share with the group."

Everybody stayed quiet as Jayne looked around at us all, eyes flickering between everyone. It felt like I was back in a lecture hall, waiting for the lecturer to pick on someone to answer a question. Talk about déjà vu.

"Y/N!"

And here it goes...

"Why don't you give it a go today?" Jayne asked gently, offering an encouraging smile.

I uncrossed my arms awkwardly as I straightened up in my seat, suddenly feeling everyone's eyes fall to me.

Clearing my throat, I shrugged. "Erm, I'm not– I– what do you want to know?"

Jayne spread her hands out. "Anything you want! What have you got on your mind?"

Chewing on the inside of my cheek nervously, I glanced around, seeing everybody staring at me. "Erm..."

"Maybe you can start with why you decided to attend," Jayne offered, and I was glad because I genuinely had no idea where to begin.

Nodding awkwardly, I tried to form a coherent thought. "Right... well, I came here because my mum wanted me to. She, er, she thought that it would help me to feel less shitty." Realising I swore, I looked up at Jayne apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to– sorry."

"No need to apologise, Y/N," Jayne assured me. "Why do you feel that way?"

I gave her a questioning look. "Seriously?" She played dumb, and I'm not sure why, so I continued, "I lost five years of my life in seconds. I was supposed to move into a new apartment, start a life with my girlfriend, find a new job after graduation, but instead I'm back at home with no job, no girlfriend and no friends."

Jayne frowned. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, me and you both," I mumbled, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I just– it's not fair. Everything moved on and I'm still stuck."

"You're not stuck," somebody in the group said, and I looked up to see a young man watching me with sympathy. I think his name was Zain, but I couldn't be sure. "It feels like that, but you're not. It's just an adjustment period."

I shook my head at him. "It's not though, is it? I came back and my life is completely different. So are the people in it. My girlfriend isn't my girlfriend anymore. She's got a life of her own, one that doesn't include me. And my mum is basically the same. It's almost like I shouldn't have come back. It would have been easier on both of them."

"That's not true," Jayne said with certainty.

"Isn't it?" I asked, crossing my arms again. "All I'm doing is disrupting everything. My mum is always worried about me. My ex had to drop everything to come and see me, only for me to break down at the fact that she moved on without me. It's stupid."

Jayne gave me a knowing look. "Do you really think that they would be better off without you? Your mother is worried because she cares about you, Y/N. Do you think that the past five years have been better for her? Better without her daughter?"

I pressed my lips together, unsure what to say.

"And by the sounds of it, your ex girlfriend sounds like she cares, too if she was willing to drop everything to see you," Jayne continued. "I know that it must feel like you're disrupting everything, but as Zain said, it's an adjustment period. For you and for them."

"And how long is that gonna take?" I asked with a frown. "How long until it makes sense again? Until my life is my own again?"

Jayne sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Well, that's down to you. Of course things aren't going to be the same as they were before the snap, but it doesn't mean everything has to stay different. You said you were looking for a job? You can still do that. You said you have no friends? Put yourself out there. Contact old school friends. Sad that your girlfriend has moved on? I'm not going to sugarcoat it, it's gonna hurt. But she still cares about you and you don't have to lose her in your life altogether."

"You make it sound so easy," I said, swallowing hard. "It's not."

Jayne began to smile with amusement. "Of course it's not. But all you have to do is start somewhere small. Nobody said to take it all on at once."

I looked down at my hands, trying to understand how I could do that, where I could begin.

"You don't have to listen to me," Jayne said, and I glanced up to see her looking my way, before she looked around at everybody. "None of you do. But starting small will do wonders."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start small. Maybe Jayne wasn't wrong.

I tried to take Jayne's advice on board. Even if it felt stupid, I started to make a list of all the things I wanted to work on for myself so I had a starting point.

The first thing was to make things right with Layla. Even though I knew what the outcome would be – us no longer being together anymore – it was something I needed to fix because it wasn't fair on either of us. So, after finally buying a new phone and adding Layla's number, I arranged for us to meet up at a coffee shop. Thankfully, she agreed.

I found her sat in the corner table when I entered. She hadn't noticed me yet since she was slightly angled away from the front door, but she stood out to me instantly. A small smile appeared on my lips when I saw her, feeling that comforting warmth spread through me that I always felt whenever I was with her. She was stunning, even when she looked nervous, and I had to remind myself what I'd come here to do before my feelings got the better of me.

Clearing my throat, I approached her from behind and earned her attention. Offering her a small smile, I paused as she stood up, looking over me with a guilty expression. When she didn't say anything, I leaned forward and hugged her, glad when she hugged me back just as tightly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered when we pulled away, but I shook my head at her frown.

"You don't need to be," I assured her, squeezing her arm before taking a seat at the table. She did the same and I added, "Thanks for meeting with me. I'm sorry it took so long for me to ask."

"No, it's okay, I get it," she said quickly. "I mean, I understand why. It was a lot. I shouldn't have– you needed time. I shouldn't have come so quickly and interrupted your– it was a lot."

She was trying so hard to say the right thing, second guessing herself with every word, and I could see the concern on her face as she constantly looked between my eyes for any sign of discomfort. If I wasn't already deeply in love with her, I would have fallen there and then.

"I know that everything is different now," I said, trying to disguise my sadness so she wouldn't feel bad. "It's hard to believe still because it seems like I only graduated not long ago."

She frowned but, thankfully, didn't interrupt.

"I know that you're living your life, Layla," I said as calmly as I could, remembering all that I had practiced beforehand, "and I don't want to get in the way of that."

"You need to know that I never stopped loving you, Y/N," she said suddenly, interrupting my train of thought. "I always will. But I... I had to move on. I couldn't wait forever."

Though her words stung, I smiled sadly, knowing she was right. "I wouldn't have wanted you to. And it's– it's okay. I'm sorry that I ran out last time. It was too soon, but it's not now. I get it. I'm coming to terms with what this new reality looks like for me, and I know that it isn't the same anymore. And I just– you don't need to stay in it–"

She opened her mouth to interrupt, but I shook my head before she could convince me otherwise.

"No, Layla, it's fine," I said with understanding. "I get it. We're not together anymore and there's no need for you to–"

"Stop it," she said authoritatively, shaking her head with a clenched jaw. "No. I'm in your life no matter what. We were friends before we dated, remember? I still care about you, Y/N. I'm here for you."

I pressed my lips together, sighing inwardly. As much as I appreciated that sentiment, I wasn't sure I could be her friend when I was still in love with her. But I also missed her too much to push her away completely, and if she was fine being my friend, then who was I to argue it?

"Thanks," was all I could say without giving away my true feelings.

She exhaled with relief, a beautiful smile appearing on her lips. "Now. How are you doing? I tried to keep my distance, but I've been so worried. I just want you to be okay."

I returned her smile, a little less enthusiastically but still there. "I appreciated the space. I've been going to a support group. Trying to sort my life out and figure out what it means for me. I guess, starting with you has helped."

Her smile widened. "Y/N, that's great! I'm so proud of you for getting help."

Whether it was friendly or not, her words meant the world to me, and I felt my face heat up at the compliment. Only Layla El-Faouly could have such an effect on me.

Another month passed since I officially got demoted from girlfriend to friend with Layla, and apart from the fact that I couldn't be with the woman I loved, life was slowly starting to feel like normal. I guess that was thanks to Jayne and the support group.

I was still attending, listening to others and even sharing my own progress in life, which included finding a temporary retail job to start making some money whilst I got my shit together. It wasn't anything special – just at a clothes store in town – but it gave me something to focus on whilst I reviewed my resumé and qualifications to apply for real jobs following graduation.

Having a job gave me a purpose again and it was one step closer to feeling normal. Plus, I had Layla. Even though she wasn't my girlfriend anymore and I had to push my love for her aside, I still had her as a friend. She would text me like she used to, visit the house to see my mum and I, hang out with me. It was just like it was before we started dating, but of course, that was when I fell for her, so I couldn't see this going any better the second time. Still, I valued having her in my life.

I enjoyed getting to know the older version of Layla, the one who wasn't a fresh graduate with a hope to be just like her father. I appreciated discovering her new interests whilst she still revelled in her old ones. And I especially enjoyed being with her, even if it was in a friendly setting. Though, sometimes, I'd be reminded that we were much more.

We were going shopping together one day when I was meeting her at her apartment so we could go together. It was the first time I was seeing her place, so when she let me in and pardoned herself to finish getting ready, I took that as my chance to explore her place and get a further insight to the new Layla.

Her place was clean and organised, just like she'd always been, save for a few corners and bookshelves which were total messes. It brought a smile to my lips, knowing she was still passionate enough to forget to put her shit away when she was working on something good. There were a few knickknacks dotted about – mementos from trips she'd been on, artefacts that she no doubt had kept from her many experiences exploring, photographs from memories I hadn't been present for. It was hard not to think about what our place used to look like, and what our new place could have looked like together.

We were so damn close. And being here in her apartment right now was bringing everything back up. No matter how much progress I'd made in accepting my new life, my old one still haunted me.

Trying to not let it get to me, I continued perusing her many bookshelves until I spotted a framed photograph on the end. I instantly recognised it and began to smile with disbelief, picking it up and studying it carefully.

in the photo, the two of us were stood side by side, my arms hooked around her shoulders as hers laced around my waist. Massive grins were on our faces as the landscape of a carnival was framed behind us. It was our first date – she'd asked me to go to the carnival that was happening in the park near our university, thinking I'd love it, and she wasn't wrong because I did.

I swallowed hard, smile fading as I remembered how perfect that day was. We stayed there for hours, playing all of the games, riding the bumper cars, eating all the food we could find. We watched the sunset together on the ferris wheel and she kissed me for the first time, right at the top, smiling with embarrassment when I accused her of planning the whole thing. It was one of the best moments of my relationship with her, of my life. I didn't think she'd keep the photo, especially not after all this time.

"Okay, so I finally found my purse, so I'm ready to go if you're– oh."

I looked up when Layla entered the room, her eyes drifting to the photograph in my hand. Clearing my throat, I awkwardly returned it to its spot on her bookshelf.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop," I said, hoping all the effort I'd made to be her friend hadn't immediately been thrown down the drain. "I just– I saw it and– sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. It's–" She paused, stepping forward cautiously, eyes glancing at the photo before looking back to me. She offered me a small smile. "It was a good day. Wasn't it?"

I hoped my surprise wasn't obvious when she said that, as I definitely didn't expect her to acknowledge it at all.

"Yeah," I agreed slowly. "It was."

She pursed her lips, beginning to chew on her lower one as she stood beside me to get a better view of the photo. I glanced at her profile, wishing I knew what she was thinking.

"I hope you don't mind that I kept the photo," she said quietly, and I realised she was embarrassed, a faint pink blush dusting her cheeks. "It was just a way to keep you around when you weren't."

Her words warmed my heart, and then it set on fire when her brown eyes met mine in a softened glance.

"I don't mind," I said, not meaning for it to come out in a whisper.

She swallowed thickly, lips tugging into a half smile before she looked down at her shoes. I couldn't look away from her as she ran a hand through her curls before walking away.

"C'mon, we should go," she said, grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter. "You ready?"

I nodded. "Yeah..."

The weird energy between us remained when she drove us to the shopping centre, though maybe it was just me who felt it because she looked unfazed. I tried to push it to the back of my mind, not wanting my feelings for her to ruin the day and our relationship in general.

We looked around at a few stores, buying some clothes and catching up at the same time, and it was just a great feeling to be able to spend time with her. She always made everything easier.

"I like this for you," she was saying as we were shopping, and only when she looked my way did I realise she was talking to me. "What do you think?"

I cursed inwardly, telling myself to stop getting distracted by her, and looked to the jacket she was holding. It was a hooded red, blue and black jacket and she seemed really excited about the idea of me getting it.

Trying not to laugh, I quirked a brow at her. "Are you trying to make me look like a crayon or...?"

She shoved me in the shoulder before waving her hand at me impatiently. "C'mon, don't knock it until you try it. It'll look good!"

"Layla," I whined, but she ignored me as she was already unzipping my current jacket.

"Try it on," she said with a stern voice and knowing look.

I sighed dramatically and removed my jacket before putting on the one she chose. Once it was zipped up, I looked to her with narrowed eyes, feeling like a child trying on a school uniform for their mother. She let out an excited squeal as her hands clasped together and her eyes looked me up and down.

"Yeah, this looks awesome, I was right," she said before putting her hands on my shoulders and walking me to a nearby mirror.

"Layla–"

"Just look," she insisted, and I looked up to see the jacket still looking very much like a crayon set.

"I'm not so sure," I said with a raised eyebrow, turning around to get a look from behind, too. "I'm not sold."

She unzipped it for me and then stood behind me, forcing me to stand in different angles so I could see it from all sides. Now I definitely felt like a child with their mother.

"Okay, you're totally buying it," she said, having made up her mind. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, an amused smile on her lips as she added, "And if you don't, I'm buying it for you."

I didn't hate the jacket, but it definitely wasn't my favourite thing. But Layla looked so excited and my insides were turning into jelly as she watched me with glowing eyes, so I caved.

"Fine, I'll buy it," I gave in reluctantly, making her smile widen.

She began talking about how I needed to buy more things for myself, a familiar topic between us when we'd been a couple, but I don't think she realised. I was only half-listening because I grew distracted once more, eyes studying her face as she helped me take off the jacket and put my other one on.

Would I buy an ugly jacket just because she asked me to? It seemed so. Though I guess I knew that already. I'd do anything she asked me to.

After buying the jacket and browsing a few more stores, we got some food from the food court and enjoyed being off our feet. Layla was talking about a trip to Egypt she had coming up for work, something about unfinished business.

"So you lay low every time you go there because...?" I asked curiously, recalling her telling me how she had to be careful whenever she went.

An embarrassed smile appeared on her lips. "Well... let's just say that I haven't exactly been making friends whilst being over there."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously? Is it safe?"

I knew she dealt with illegalities in her line of work, which I didn't care about since she was doing the right thing, but it still worried me that it concerned dangerous individuals. Layla could take care of herself and she was far from careless, but it still worried me.

"Look, it's nothing to worry about," she assured me nonchalantly, before silencing herself by taking a bite of her burger.

"Oh, yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious," I said with a knowing look before having some fries. "Maybe I'll let my mum know what you're up to if it's nothing to worry about, huh?"

She gave me a warning look, but a smile was threatening to break out on her face. "Don't you dare. I am an angel in Y/M/N's eyes. You're not ruining this for me."

I tried to hold in my laughter. "Better be careful then."

"I'm always careful."

I maintained her gaze, smile fading slightly. "I know you are are. But still."

Sensing that I wasn't joking anymore, her smile faded, too. "I'll be careful," she promised. "I'll even bring you something back. A souvenir."

I pursed my lips, tilting my head towards her. "I'm not five, Layla."

Her smile widened once more before she began to laugh, stirring a flutter of butterflies in my stomach as she always did.

God, this was going to be hard.

[queenshelby]

The Policeman’s Daughter – Part Three

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mention of Assault and Sexual Abuse, Mention of Suicide, Murder, Fluff, Slow Burn Smut, Drugs

Words: 5,245

Please comment, like, engage if you like it xo 😘

Shelby Company Limited, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

At around 10 o’clock that day, Tommy had a meeting with Moss, Michael and Arthur at his office in order to ensure that the plan he had hatched in the previous two days came to fruition.

‘So, we are all good for the rallies this evening?’ Tommy asked as Moss, Michael and Arthur sat down with him in the conference room.

‘All this for a fucking woman, eh?’ Arthur asked, causing Tommy to chuckle. Of course, he had more than one motive for organising extensive rallies across Birmingham. Sure, he wanted to see you but he also needed to get a shipment of cocaine out of the city unnoticed.

‘The rallies are going ahead as planned. All but three policemen will be dispatched and busy breaking up the fights’ Moss explained before handing Tommy a list of names of policemen who had recently joined the force.

‘All but three, eh?’ Tommy asked surprised, causing Moss to nod. ‘Are you sure that this list complete?’ Tommy then went on to ask, noticing that none of the men on the list carried the same surname as you.

Moss nodded again before breaking some more news to Tommy.

‘Three of the men have been called into London, investigating a few killings. You may have heard in the news this morning that a High Court Judge had been killed last night’ Moss explained.

‘I’ve heard’ Tommy said before taking a short pause while reading over the list again. ‘Can you tell me who the three men are’ Tommy then went on to say while pointing at the list. In his mind, it was unusual for local coppers to be called to a different district and the killing of the judge was going to be a high-profile case, unsuitable for most small-town policemen to investigate.

Moss was quick to highlight the three names for Tommy before taking his payment and leaving the office just as requested by Tommy.

‘I need you to find out about these three men. Where they have transferred from and why they are here. Get me their addresses and see if they have any skeletons in their closet, eh’ Tommy said, handing the list to Michael.

‘Why?’ Michael asked, unsure about Tommy’s motives.

‘If these men investigate a murder of a judge in London, they aren’t just coppers’ Tommy explained before confirming with Arthur that he has dealt with the security guards at your property.

‘Blackmailed them and paid them Tommy. Just as you ordered’ Arthur confirmed and it was at this point that Tommy called the end of the meeting, allowing Michael and Arthur to get on with their business.

Just as Arthur and Michael left the office, Tommy’s secretary Lizzie walked inside, asking Tommy to sign off on some of the paperwork she had prepared for Shelby Company Limited.

Without acknowledging her, Tommy read the paperwork and signed it. As usual, his thoughts were elsewhere and it wasn’t until Lizzie asked him about his plans for the evening that he acknowledged her.

‘Would you like me to stay back this evening Tommy?’ Lizzie asked while she seductively ran her hand over one of his upper thighs all the way towards his crotch.

‘I’ve got plans this evening Lizzie’ Tommy quickly responded, removing her hand from his thigh while signing the last piece of paper she had given him.

‘It’s been a while since we’ve fucked’ Lizzie then said, looking at Tommy with her dark eyes.

‘It has’ was all he responded with before clearing his throat and getting on with business matters.

Your Residence, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

Meanwhile, earlier that day, your father had told you that he had business to attend to in London. As usual, he didn’t tell you what this business was about but you expected that it had to do with the killing of the high court judge and the three men who, several years ago, caused you so much pain and suffering.

Your father seemed pleased about their killing when he called in at 10 o’clock that morning, asking you whether you had read the paper. Nonetheless, there would be an investigation and, knowing your father, you knew that he was desperate to know as to who did the killing and, more importantly, why.

When you asked him when he would return, he advised you that he wouldn’t be back until Sunday afternoon and you couldn’t help but chuckle before wishing him safe travels.

At around 7 o’clock that evening, you had a quick bath before picking out your clothes for the evening. You were excited to see Tommy again. But you were also slightly nervous, knowing that you might be spending the night with him.

You had only ever been with one man who was nothing but cruel to you in the end. Intimacy didn’t come naturally to you ever since the night you were hurt and abused.

But you knew that you had to get over all this eventually and, for some reason, you desired Tommy like you never desired any man before. There was something about him that not only made you feel at ease but also attractive and worthy.

He had an aura about him which no one had ever matched and, deep down inside, you knew that you both shared struggles no one else could comprehend.

When you told him about the night your life changed for the worse and your thoughts about ending your own suffering many times in the past, he told you that he understood how you felt.

He told you about France, he told you about the death of his wife and how, on many occasions, he didn’t think it was worth it to carry on like this.

But, he had a son he loved and cared for and assured you that, one day, you would have someone who makes life worth living for.

Of course, you wanted him to be right and, until then, you were determined to try and enjoy life and indulge on what was at offer.

‘Fear nothing Love. Everything after is extra’ was what Tommy had said to you when you told him that you had nearly died that night. And he was right, everything after was extra.

With these thoughts running through your mind, you slipped on some nice lingerie, a nice dress and applied a generous amount of make-up.

At exactly 8 o’clock, you heard a car pull up in front of the property and you looked around for the guards who, miraculously, had disappeared.

You quickly put on your coat, grabbed your handbag and walked outside into the cold autumn air.  Without second thoughts, you walked to Tommy’s car and, as soon as you opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat, he pulled you close for a kiss. You didn’t even get a chance to greet him before his lips were firmly connected to yours.  

His lips were warm and soft, just as you remembered and you immediately parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter and explore. His hands were caressing your face as he kissed you for what felt like an eternity.

‘You look beautiful’ he eventually said, quickly gazing over you after your lips drifted apart before putting the car into gear and driving off.

‘How did you know that my father would be going to London?’ you then asked without worrying about where Tommy was taking you.

Without answering your question immediately, Tommy swallowed harshly, realising that your father must be one of the men he asked Michael to research which, yet again, would pose another hurdle for him and you.

‘I didn’t know that he was going to London but I did know about some rallies in Birmingham tonight, keeping all the coppers busy. I was certain that he would have to work’ Tommy explained before asking you for your father’s name.

‘It’s James and he will be in London all weekend’ you smirked, causing Tommy chuckle.

‘All weekend, eh?’ Tommy said while realising that none of the three men on Moss’s list who were travelling to London were named James.

‘Are you alright Tommy?’ you then went on to ask as you became to notice how quiet Tommy had gotten after you told him about your father.

‘Yes Love, there is just some business on my mind’ Tommy explained before changing the topic.

‘Since your father is gone for a while longer than I had expected, how would you like to spend the weekend with me at my house?’ Tommy then went on to ask before realising that this might make you uncomfortable after what you had told him the last time you saw each other and, before you could answer, he qualified his proposal. ‘Separate bedrooms of course and you are free to leave whenever you choose’ he added quickly, taking your hand and running over it gently while trying to concentrate on the road.

‘I would love that Tommy’ you answered equally quick while your hand searched for his thigh.

Tommy’s Residence, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

After a thirty-minute drive filled with interesting conversations, you finally arrived at Tommy’s house and, when he pulled up in the driveway, you were speechless.  

‘How many people do live here exactly?’ you asked while looking at the large mansion.

‘Just me, my son Charles and some maids’ Tommy said as he parked the car and before walking around it, opening the door for you like a gentleman.

‘Right’ you said, clearly lost for words.

‘Common. It’s warmer inside’ Tommy said with a warm smile as he reached for your hand.

As soon as you walked into the door, you were greeted by one of the maids who took your coat and provided Tommy with a list of messages received via phone during the day.

Tommy quickly skimmed over the list and decided that he had to make a quick phone call before he would join you in the reading room.

You were impressed by the decoration in the house, looking around and into each and every direction while Tommy’s maid Francis walked you to the reading room.

‘Miss, would you like a glass of wine, or champaign perhaps?’ Francis then asked and you quickly shook your head, thanking her for her offer.

From the reading room, you could hear Tommy talking to someone in quite a firm tone and you began to wonder how he came into possession of such wealth and position of power as a gypsy.

While you waited for Tommy to return, you walked around the reading room, looking at the books and artwork and, just as you did, a young boy walked inside wearing pyjamas.

‘Hey, you must be Charles’ you said with a friendly voice and the boy nodded shyly.

‘Are you one of the new maids?’ Charlie asked and you quickly shook your head just as Francis walked in behind him.

‘No running away, remember’ Francis said and, just as she did, Tommy finished his phone call and quickly gave Charlie a hug before telling him that it was time to go to bed.

You said goodbye to Charlie and couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he looked just like Tommy.

‘You are very lucky. He is a beautiful young boy’ you said just after Francis carried Charlie to bed.

‘I am sure you will be just as lucky one day, eh’ Tommy said before pouring you glass of whiskey which you chose to decline.

‘I cannot have children’ you explained, holding your stomach momentarily and, immediately, Tommy sat down next to you and took you into his arms.

‘I am sorry’ he said quietly as you leaned against his shoulder.

‘It’s alright. I made peace with it a long time ago’ you said, still glancing around to take in the artwork and décor.

‘Now, tell me, what is it that you do’ you said, looking into his deep blue eyes.

‘Lots of things’ Tommy responded before pressing his lips onto yours.

‘Lots of things? Right’ you giggled before asking Tommy how he managed to get the security guards your father had employed to turn a blind eye on you leaving that evening and not returning to your home until Sunday.

‘I paid them a substantial amount of money’ Tommy said bluntly.

‘You paid them?’ you asked with surprise and Tommy nodded. ‘Yes, I paid them. Like most things these days, their loyalty was for sale’ Tommy said with a cheeky smile.

‘You know, it seems to me that everyone does what you tell them to do’ you then said, biting your lip as you did.

‘Perhaps’ Tommy then said with a chuckle before causing you to lean against him.

As you did, you could his heart pound and smell the scent of his aftershave. It was divine and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him tightly.

As you held each other close, Tommy gently kissed the top of your head causing you to feel relaxed a little more.

‘Did you want to get some rest? I had Francis prepare one of the guest rooms for you’ Tommy said as he noticed how quiet you had gotten. But the truth was, you simply enjoyed his closeness, his smell and listening to the sound of his beating heart.

‘No Tommy. I also don’t want to stay in the guestroom’ you said shyly but with a slight smirk on your face as you looked up into his deep blue eyes.

‘Where do you want to stay then, eh?’ Tommy smirked, his voice low and gentle, as his hand was slowly feeling down your side, causing your heart to skip a beat when his fingertips brushed against the side of your breast.

‘I thought I could stay in your bedroom…with you’ you said shyly as your eyes met again and he smiled warmly at you, as if he was assuring you that he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want him to do.

‘I think that could be arranged’ Tommy said before kissing you gently as his fingers continued to traverse your body, slowly walking onto your thigh.

You watched his hand intently after you lips parted from his, feeling frozen like a doe in the headlights but still safe and secure somehow.

You knew that he would stop if you asked him to, so there was no harm in enjoying the pleasant sensations.

You scooted a little closer to him, looking into his eyes with your head on his shoulder and smiling up at him. He had such amazing eyes. And hands. One of which slowly smoothed down your thigh ever so gently.

Your breath caught in your throat as those fingers delicately brushed up your inner thigh and you lifted your head to say something, but you didn’t know what. Your body begged him continue but your mind fought it.

He whispered softly, his lips brushing against your ear and his warm breath causing little goose bumps on your neck. ‘If you would like me to stop, let me know’ he said and your lips quivered as you tried to make a decision.

Logic was fighting a losing battle against libido. You had never been touched this way, not even by yourself and the man you had been with in the past was far from being gentle.

Your internal monologue was shattered when he finally reached beneath your skirt slowly and gently. You leaned into him and buried your face in his neck to stifle a whimper as two more fingers joined the first, casually stroking your through your panties. He smelled wonderful too.

Your body moved seemly with a mind of its own as your hips rising gently with each soft caress of those wonderful fingers. His other hand joined in, his fingertips caressing your cheek and playing across your neck. You couldn’t focus on anything more complicated than that thanks to the stimulation down below and the warmth of his fingers moving along the V of your blouse.

You quivered with desire from his manipulation, one hand now running over your breast and the other dipping his fingers just feeling along the edge of your panties. You looked up at him as he leaned towards you, his lips slowly moving towards yours but teasingly sliding along your cheek instead to whisper in your ear again.

‘Would you like to continue this in my bedroom?’ Tommy asked and you mumbled something in the affirmative.

Tommy smiled at your shyness and took your hand and helped you to your feet. You held onto him for support, your legs still shaky from the experience. He gallantly gave you his arm and you held onto it as you left the reading room and made your way upstairs to Tommy’s bedroom.

When you arrived in his bedroom, Tommy guided you all the way to the front of his large bed which is where he stood before you, reaching out to gently caress your cheek.

You smiled softly and looked at him through half-closed eyes, leaning your face against his hand slightly.

‘I am nervous Tommy’ you shuddered.

‘We don’t have to do anything Y/N’ Tommy said reassuringly.

‘I want to. I just don’t know if I am ready to go all the way…you know’ you said nervously, biting your lip again as you did.

‘We won’t. Just let me make you feel good, eh’ Tommy said gently as he winked at you and you literally had no idea what he meant by that, but nodded anyway.

Tommy then trailed his fingertips down your arm before he kissed you again gently. But this time, his lips moved from yours to your shoulder and neck in no time. You felt yourself start to tremble again. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe. All your being was focused on Tommy and you wanted him so badly.

He looked into your eyes with his piercing gaze, placing his hands on your shoulders, whispering softly with his lips almost touching yours.

‘Turn around’ he said and you complied with his request. His hands moved your hair out of the way gently before his lips started to kiss the back of your neck all while his hands started to unzip your dress.

Your dress fell to the floor almost instantly and you stepped out of it slowly before turning around to face Tommy.

You covered your stomach with your hands, covering up your scar as you stood in front of Tommy nervously. Tommy smiled at the sight before him, drawing another blush from you as he traced his finger down the strap and along the edge of the material of your bra, gliding lightly over the gentle swell of your breast.

You stiffened again at feeling a warm gentle touch where you hadn’t let anyone touch you for a long time, but forced yourself to relax and enjoy it.

Tommy then moved your hands away from your stomach gently. ‘Don’t hide it. You are beautiful and I want to see all of you’ Tommy whispered as he traced his finger up your cleavage slowly, drawing a line up along your neck and across your jaw to your chin, tipping your face up to meet his gaze.

He then leaned down and made your head spin by flicking the tip of his tongue along your cleavage. You shuddered and moaned softly, holding onto his shoulders as your knees wobbled under you. You tangled your fingers in his hair as his lips and tongue teased your skin, eventually wrapping around one strap and slowly pulling it down your shoulder, then doing the same to the other. Unsure of how to react but filled with desire, you kissed and nibbled at his neck as he had done with you. He tasted good too. His fingers flicked briefly behind your back and you felt your bra clasp fall open. You let the bra fall and felt your cheeks flush slightly as your breasts were revealed, almost covering them with your hands before remembering what Tommy had told you.

‘Lie down Love’ he then instructed while he took off his vest and shirt, leaving him wearing nothing but his black suit pants.

After he got partially undressed, he joined you on the large bed and, yet again, guided your hands away from covering yourself up and kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your nervous giggle turned into an elated sigh as he pulled away and, almost suddenly began to trail kisses down your chest and breasts. Your sigh then turned into a moan when his tongue slowly flicked your nipple before mimicked the circular motions of his fingers with his tongue. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your head fell back, your eyes fluttered as he made you feel alive.

You whimpered softly as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tenderly sucking on it and lashing at it with his tongue, fondling your other breast with one hand as the other smoothed down your belly. Following his lead, you felt down his body to find his belt buckle, keeping one arm wrapped around him for fear that you might faint. But, his hand covered yours quickly and placed it back on his shoulder, causing you to eye him curiously.

‘Tonight is about you Love’ Tommy said with a grin and you gasped as he caressed his way down to your hips, softly kissing down your belly. Was he going to kiss you there too you wondered as you watched his progression intently.

You arched your body against his lips as they softly pressed against your belly button and Tommy shifted his hands to brush against your inner thighs, smiling up at you as your body reacted to his touch. He then slipped his fingers under the edge of your panties and pulled them down slowly, letting his touch linger on your long legs. She blushed profusely as you lay there beneath him completely naked, the night air teasing all your sensitive spots.

His hands slowly moved up your legs, gently caressing your thighs before parting them gently.

He traversed your body with agonizing slowness and you tensed as he kissed the inside of your thighs.

He wasn’t really going to kiss you there, was he? You blushed even more and whimpered softly with desire as Tommy traced little circles with his tongue slowly towards your centre until, finally, his face hovered between your legs, pausing to enjoy your arousal.

‘Is it alright if I kiss you there?’ Tommy asked, looking up at you as you twitched at the feather light touch of his lips followed by the hot air of his breath.

‘Are you serious?’ you forced out with a moan.

‘Yeah’ Tommy said with a low voice and you shyly nodded, thinking it was a strange request until, suddenly, his lips touched your wet mound.

‘Oh Jesus’ you moaned at the sensation as he placed gently small kisses over your mound but your moan soon turned into scream of pleasure when, suddenly, Tommy darted his tongue and licked through your slit.

His teasing had already brought you to the brink and you felt like you would explode. What was this feeling, you wondered? It was new and unfamiliar to you.

You inhaled sharply at the pleasure coursing through you as Tommy’s warm tongue traced slowly up your slit and then slowly back down. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pressed his face between your legs, your whole body seemingly on fire as he licked up and down, moving a little deeper inside you with each pass. He used his soft lips to tenderly nibble on your folds, triggering another incoherent outburst of encouragement. Then he ever so gently pressed his lips to your clit.

Your entire body writhed with pleasure from his touch, fireworks going off in your mind. Slowly Tommy smoothed his tongue over your clit, back and forth, up and down. You moaned loudly, all thoughts gone from your mind save for his tongue. He then caressed your thigh briefly and brought his hand to your slit, where he began to gently glide his finger in and out of you. By this point you let go of his hair and dug your nails into the sheets, shuddering as his finger moved within you. Then he added a second finger and your moans became even louder as he stroked a special spot on each pass, lighting up all of your senses.

‘Oh my god Tommy’ you moaned loudly as, finally, you began to experience your first orgasm, convulsing as the pleasure washed through your like a wildfire.

You were a shaking mess after as little as ten minutes of Tommy pleasuring you with his tongue and finger, crying and whimpering for him. Screaming his name for all the maids in the house to hear.

After you finally came down from your high, Tommy gently withdrew his tongue and fingers from you and rose, kissing his way back up your body gently.

You wrapped your arms tight around him, nuzzling his neck as your body quivered from your experience.

‘You taste fucking amazing Love’ he then grinned, clearly satisfied by what he had just achieved.

‘Really?’ you chuckled, still surprised by his actions. You didn’t realise that anyone does things like that, kissing and licking intimate places like this.

‘Yeah, really’ Tommy smirked before he kissed you again, gently but yet passionately and, as he did, you could taste your juices on his tongue and on his lips.

‘See’ Tommy smirked after your lips had parted and you couldn’t help but giggle.

‘Now can I taste you?’ you asked as you slipped your hand over his crotch, feeling how hard he was, straining against his pants.

‘There is no need Love. I can wait’ Tommy said reassuringly, not wanting to push you farther than you were really prepared to go. It was also obvious to him that you had never done this before.

‘Please’ you then said shyly, raising up over him slightly and he nodded, giving you permission to proceed with whatever you are comfortable with.

You began to place little sucking kisses on his neck, then on his shoulders. Then you began to kiss down his chest, occasionally adding a little lick here and there just as he had done with you. Tommy smiled down at you as your fingers and tongue slowly walked down his body.

Your hands were trembling with anticipation as you unbuckled and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then you pulled his pants down along with his briefs and freed his cock. His erection stood proud before you, begging to be touched.

Tommy let out a quiet moan as you reached out and gingerly brushed your fingertip along the head, feeling it respond to your touch. You then began to gently stroke up and down his shaft, watching his expressions to try to find what he liked best. You slipped your finger between your lips briefly to wet it, then drew circles around the head before bringing your mouth down towards his hard member.

Experimentally you extended your tongue and brushed it against the tip, smiling as Tommy let out a sexy growl of approval. You began to circle the head with your tongue, smiling up at him each time you made him twitch or moan. Then you closed your lips around the head of his shaft, hungrily lapping and sucking.

‘That’s it Love, fuck’ Tommy moaned while brushing his hands gently through your hair. He seemed to like this best of all, judging by his growls.

You soon began to taste small amounts of precum which had escaped from his shaft and you were savouring the taste and texture and the pleasure you were giving him.

‘Come up here Love. I am close’ Tommy barely managed to force out after you bobbed your head up and down his shaft for the past ten minutes, your lips closing and sucking around him firmly while your tongue explored every inch of his hardness.

‘Cum in my mouth Tommy’ you demanded while disconnecting your lips briefly, causing Tommy to growl even louder.

‘Fuck’ Tommy growled within seconds, causing you to smile all while you could feel his shaft pulsate inside your mouth.

Then, another few seconds later, he bucked his hips slightly and involuntarily, while, with one loud groan, he began to fill your mouth with his sweet and warm cum.

Another curse word soon escaped him as he let rope after rope of his warm seed flow into you and you were quite surprised by how much there was of it.

After you collected at all in your mouth and Tommy slowly began to come down from his high, you looked up at him with your eyes full of questions.

Unsure about what to do, you swallowed, causing Tommy to groan again briefly as he watched. Quite obviously, it turned him and you were quite satisfied being able to pleasure him the same way he pleasured you.

‘Come here, eh’ Tommy then ordered with a gentle voice and crawled back up on his body and leaned your head against his chest, listening to his still somewhat racing heart.

‘So, people do that kind of stuff’ you huffed out with shy but cute giggle.

‘Yeah’ Tommy chuckled, adoring your shyness in sweetness.

Tommy’s Residence, Birmingham, 18 September 1924

After having explored your sexual desires with Tommy and some more gentle intimacy and pillow talk, you eventually managed to fall asleep at around 11 o’clock with your body pressed firmly against Tommy’s.

Together, you only needed about half the bed as your bodies were intermingled with each other and you loved feeling his closeness.

But, unfortunately for you, it was around 4 o’clock in the morning that yet another one of your nightmares ripped through you, causing you to kick and scream in your sleep.

Your nightmares always felt real, causing you to wake in a state of panic and anxiety.

Just as your dream was worsening and you let out a loud cry, you could hear Tommy’s voice, calm and deep.

‘Y/N, shhh, it’s alright’ you heard Tommy say gently, his hands running through your hair as he held you close just as you woke from your nightmare.

‘It’s just a dream. You are safe, eh’ he said as he held onto you, realising that you were close to having a panic attack.

‘Tommy’ you said with a small cry as your breathing was easing almost immediately.

‘I am here. It was just a dream’ he said again calmly and reassuring before kissing your forehead.

‘I am sorry Tommy. I must have woken you’ you said, looking at him through the dim light of the small lamp which Tommy had left on upon your request.

‘No Love, I have trouble sleeping and I get those too, the nightmares’ Tommy then said as you rested back against him but this time with your eyes wide open.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ you then went to ask after a few minutes of silence.

‘Yeah, common. I know just the place, eh’ Tommy suggested with a warm smile and off you went into the cold spring night.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Run to You Part Three

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 1758

Part 3 of 3

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands. 

Notes: Is this procedurally correct? Probably not. But here it is! The last part to my Derek Morgan imagine! I hope you guys enjoy this and never forget that replies mean the world! This one kinda feels jumbled, but I hope you still like it. (I’m sorry it took forever! I got caught up with other projects, which I hope to be sharing soon!)

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

The swarms of cops were overwhelming. You watched teams and teams of people surrounded the block Dr. Reid was the one that figured out that Lance had brought Angelica to the church that you got married, especially upon the discovery that it was going to be torn down in a few weeks. The idea of losing the one connection to you he had left was likely a trigger. 

No one was allowed to get too close. They worried that cornering Lance would make him panic and kill Angelica, so you were forced to stand back and watch. They made sure you weren’t alone, of course, though you weren’t sure if it was to comfort you or to make sure you didn’t try and run in alone. With all of the standing around you were doing, you felt ready to break down the front door. 

“Alright, so we’re sending a team around to the back to get in as quickly and quietly as possible. That’ll be me, Prentiss and a couple of the local P.D.” Derek explained, keeping his eyes locked on yours to make sure you understood that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to your baby. 

“He wants me, Derek. What if he knows you’re in there and he panics and he-”

“Hey, listen to me,” He put a hand on your cheek. “I’m not gonna let that happen.” Despite the eyes of his coworkers, he pulled you in for a gentle, reassuring kiss. It did little to calm you down, but just having him there made the situation that much easier. That moment, however, was cut short by the ringing of your phone. 

“God, not again.” You cried, pulling the device from your pocket. This time, Derek held out his hand. You gave him a confused look, but handed it to him. 

“Mr. Booker.” 

“You must be Agent Morgan.” Lance spat. “I know that you and your gang of federal pigs are coming after me. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Y/N will see she’s wrong. I’ll show her she’s wrong.”

“Mr. Booker, we just want Angelica to be safely returned to her mother.” 

“What about her father, Agent Morgan? What about me!” 

“I want to make this as easy on you as possible, Mr. Booker, but you’ve got to help me out here.”

“Just bring my wife to me and nobody will get hurt.” 

“I can’t do that, Lance. You know I can’t do that.” Derek could tell that you were starting to panic from the way your eyes kept darting to the church and you slowly crept closer. He took your hand to keep you from bolting in there. 

“If I don’t see her in the next half hour... I’m taking my baby girl with me.” The call ended, but Morgan was already prepping his team to go in. 

“Derek, what did he say?” You kept your grip on his hand, following him to join Prentiss. 

“Nothing that he hasn’t already said.” He gave you the most reassuring look he could, but he knew that they had to act fast. 

“I’m going with you.”

“No. No, baby, you can’t.” He took your face in his hands. “Y/N, I need you to stay here. I need you to be safe. I can’t go get your little girl if I’m worried about you too, okay?” You shut your eyes, feeling more frightened tears slip down your cheeks. 

“What if he… what if you don’t get her in time? I need to see her, I-I need-”

“Don’t even think like that, baby.” He looked over your shoulder and motioned to the younger agent to stand beside you. “Now Reid is going to stay here with you, okay?” Reid gave him a small nod and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. Derek kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right back and I’m bringing Angel with me.” 

As he walked away, you could feel your body start to shake. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. You shut your eyes tight, the foolish part of you hoping that when you opened them, Derek and Angie would be smiling in front of you. But when you finally opened your eyes, all you saw was him walking away.

-

Morgan moved silently, followed closely by his team. Prentiss was right behind him and the other officers were ready to go. From what they could tell, Lance was in the chapel, keeping Angelica towards the back. The church had multiple entrances with one leading to the basement. This was determined to be the best point of entry since Lance was least likely to hear the team coming. 

While you couldn’t see him anymore, your heart beat more with every second. Dr. Reid stood by your side, his presence serving as a small comfort as he listened to the situation through his earpiece. He shifted suddenly and gave you a small, if not nervous, smile. 

“They’re in.” 

Derek directed the officers to one staircase while he and Prentiss crept up the other. The old floors creaked as they walked, making him wince. He could only hope that Lance couldn’t hear them. They moved fast and efficiently like they would any other raid, but his body was buzzing more than usual. He focused on the image of Angelica and kept going. 

“Morgan,” Prentiss stopped suddenly, looking around the corner. 

Angelica was seated on top of the old alter, swinging her small legs back and forth while she colored in a tattered psalm book. Booker was nowhere to be found. Morgan and Prentiss approached her slowly, double checking to make sure Lance wasn’t waiting for them. As soon as they were sure, Morgan ran to the little girl. 

“Derek!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“It’s alright, Angel. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” He cradled the back of her head, holding her closed to his chest. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell us where your dad went.” Prentiss said gently. Angelica just gave her a tearful look and pointed up. The two agents exchanged a look, reaching the same conclusion. Derek motioned to one of the officers and reluctantly handed her a crying Angelica. 

“I wanna stay w-with D-Derek!” 

“I know, sweetie, but this nice woman is going to take you out to your mama, okay? I have to go find your dad with Emily. I’ll be out before you know it, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that?” 

She nodded, but held onto his hand until he had to pull away. Prentiss put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Morgan if you need to-”

“No, I want to finish this. I’m not letting that son of a bitch take the easy way out.” 

As they made their way to the roof, you were desperately watching the door of the church, gripping Dr. Reid’s hand a little too tightly. Time was ticking and your heart beat faster every second. 

Suddenly, a group of officers exited the church. You didn’t see Derek, but at the back of the group, a female officer held Angelica. Immediately dropping Reid’s hand, you sprinted towards her, taking her from the officer’s arms and holding her closer than you ever had. You cried as her hands clung to your shirt, promising yourself to never let her out of your sight again. 

On the roof, Derek stared down Lance as he prepared to jump. 

“Don’t do it, Mr. Booker.” Prentiss said, carefully taking a step towards him. 

“There isn’t a point anymore.” The man swayed back and forth, almost losing his balance. “I just wanted us to be a family again.”

“Killing yourself won’t fix what you did all those years ago, Lance.” 

“I loved Y/N. I swear I did. But I kept hurting her. I kept hurting her and now my daughter doesn’t even know who I am.” 

“Is this how you want Angelica to remember you? The man who hurt her mom and took her away?” Derek inched closer, careful not to provoke him into jumping. “If you die now, that’s all she’ll know.” 

“Don’t come any closer!”  Lance screamed, but he had stopped swaying. 

“Lance, you can spend the rest of your life giving her something good to remember. You owe her that much.” A darker part of Derek wanted Lance to know the pain that he inflicted upon you and your family, but the words he said now were true. The best thing Lance could do was try to redeem himself after everything he had done. 

“I...I… okay.” Lance seemed in a daze as he stepped off of the ledge. Prentiss cuffed him and the two led him back downstairs. 

Lance left the church first, making your heart sink. You almost didn’t recognize him. He was just a shell, nothing like the man you knew all those years ago. Maybe, one day, you would learn to feel sorry for him, but for now, as you watched him be loaded into the patrol car, you only felt relief. 

“Derek!” Angelica squealed, reaching out her arms. You whirled around and felt another sob escape your throat. 

The team watched Derek run to you, taking both you and Angelica in his arms. Prentiss finished getting Booker into the car and joined Hotchner, Reid, and Rossi. 

“That’s not something I thought I’d see.” She whispered with a smile. 

“Did you not think we’d get to the little girl on time?” Reid asked. 

“No,” She motioned to the trio in front of them. A family. “Derek falling in love.” The rest of the team smiled and separated into their designated vehicles. 

-

The crowd shouted and cheered as Angelica sprinted towards home plate. Visitors 3, Home team 6. You cheered louder than anyone. Well, maybe not anyone.

“That’s right! You can’t touch her!” Penelope screamed at the other team’s players. Everyone from the BAU had shown up. Over the past few months, you’d gotten to know all of them pretty well, even earning Penelope’s approval.  

“She’s good.” Emily smiled at you. You nodded. 

“She has a good coach.” You looked down at the dugout where Derek was waiting to give Angel a high-five. You must have caught his eye because he beamed up at you with that knockout smile. You grinned back. 

“You guys seem really happy.” J.J. mused, giving you a supportive smile. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Derek. 

“Yeah.” You waved down at him and your daughter as she came in for her victory. “We are.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Series: @ weasleytommy, @ lowsodiumfreaks67, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @ literallyprentissstwin, @ yallgotkik

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen. 

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error. 

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully. 

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering. 

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice. 

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter. 

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?” 

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle. 

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless. 

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.” 

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask. 

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper. 

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly. 

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space. 

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?” 

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven. 

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.” 

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do. 

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about. 

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper. 

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.” 

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer. 

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine. 

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk. 

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows. 

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth. 

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide. 

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers. 

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 1, Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] has been living in Westview for more almost a month now and yet to properly put down roots. What they hadn’t been expecting was to work so much, have unpacking be so hard, and for a new couple to move in the other house for sale, directly across the street.

Word count: 8,425

Warnings: Sit down and grab a snack because this one’s a bit long! Otherwise nothing, really. Maybe second-hand embarrassment caused by a thirsty Reader.

~~~

    Ever since you left both home and family behind some years ago, you’ve always felt a little out of place in the world. It was a hard time for you, leaving everything you knew behind and instead branching out and trying to find your place in the world. Actually, not only was it a difficult time in your life, but a confusing one; when you attempted to reflect on those memories, all you get is a head of foggy feelings, including a particularly sick sensation that leaves you out of commission for the rest of the day if you’re not careful.

    When you settled in Westview, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finding a home in a nice neighborhood was easy and the moving was done in a pinch thanks to a local moving company helping you get the boxes to your door, though you couldn’t afford to pay for them to do more. You were even lucky enough to find a street with not one but two open houses to pick from; you chose the smaller, more modest abode, as you had no family in town and no intention of getting married or starting a family any time soon. Despite this lack of them nearby and generally solid memories, though, you knew you had a good relationship with your family because as soon as you found a place, you were receiving housewarming gifts and postcards and letters from not only your family but close and extended relatives alike. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for your new house’s already installed fridge to be covered in pamphlet-worthy pictures of places across the nation and kind words from your mother, grandmother, and cousins. 

    There was still unpacking, now of both the furniture and gift variety, that needed to be done before anything else. Then there was the question of a proper source of income—while the money you received from your relatives would cover a month or two while you got yourself settled, you suspected there wasn’t going to be anything else for a long while and, either way, you wanted to be able to fend for yourself. Finally, after the necessities were dealt with, there was the matter of making your house and the neighborhood your home and by making some connections; while you were perfectly content living alone, it would be nice to not feel like such an outsider, to have friends to go out on the town with or take the occasional trip with on the weekends. These were normal goals, you figured, and, with as easy everything else has been so far, they should be simple enough to complete.

    Right?

    Well, at least getting a job was easy enough, you thought as you sat on the stack of boxes that, over the last month, had become a chair by the door that you used to pull on your shoes before work, as you were doing now. It also functioned as a coat and hat rack, as proven by your growing collection of jackets and headwear piled on it, and the occasional bookshelf after a trip to the local library. It used to be a place to hold your keys but you have yet to make that mistake again after sitting down one day and getting a sharp jab to the backside. 

    You were right that getting a job was easy enough—you received a callback for a secretary job at a computational services company only after a week of job searching—but you had yet to follow through with your other aspirations. It’s not like you haven’t tried, but when it came to unpacking, your job left you with very little energy to do much other than collapse on a couch-shaped collection of boxes when you get home and only a semi-decently decorated bedroom to show for your work. In terms of bonding with the locals and making some friends, let’s just say that Dottie is convinced you purposely spilled red wine on her perfect white parlor gown—who wears white when drinking red wine?—and now all you received from the neighborhood husbands were side-eyes and grumbling after telling them you found their attempts at humor in poor taste. At least you’d managed to charm your boss and his wife when they came over for dinner and now Mr. and Mrs. Hart invited you over for the occasional drink and gossip; Agnes, a woman from across the street and down a house, was also among your few successes, and she was a hoot to be around in a big sister or wine aunt type of way, despite her loudness. 

    Speaking of which—

    “Hey, [Y/N],” Agnes hollered from somewhere outside, “haven’t seen you out of the house yet! Better hurry up, the streets are antsville today! Or, at least, you could come with me to say welcome the other new neighbors!”

    Agnes came knocking on your door the same day you moved in and since then, she’s apparently committed your daily schedule to memory because if you’re not heading to work right on time, you get a holler from across the— Wait. New neighbors? You hopped up from your boxy perch after making sure your shoes were secure and peeked out the nearest window. Sure enough, the other house that you had considered moving into, the one immediately across the street from your own, no longer had a FOR SALE sign stuck in its yard and the yard and curtains appeared to have been decorated. Your heart lept into your throat as you wondered when that had happened; you desperately hoped that it hadn’t happened too long ago because you’ve been on a work rampage for the past few days and haven’t noticed much else. Yet another thing you haven’t done correctly. 

Agnes was also by the front yard, leaning against the fence and chatting with the mailman as he walked by. After he passed, she looked up and caught your eye, grinned, and waved. “Come on, [Y/N], no time like the present!”

You wanted to join her and introduce yourself to the new neighbors, you really did. Unfortunately, you would definitely get to work late if you didn’t get a move on, especially if the streets were as crowded as Agnes mentioned them to be, and you definitely didn’t want to greet the neighbors without a housewarming gift in hand. Perhaps you could stop by a shop on the way home and pick up a plant or a pie and welcome them this evening.

“Now, don’t flip your lid, Agnes,” you teased back with a smile as you walked outside. This response earned you a mock scowl, then Agnes’s smile again; you walked over to your vehicle and tossed your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I wish I could join you but you caught me; I am in fact looking to wind up late and I’ll be cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if I don’t leave now. I’ll try to stop by after work!” 

“Well alright then,” came Agnes’s reply, while you hopped into the driver’s seat and started your chariot up. “I’ll tell them you say hi. Congrats on no longer being the new guy!”

Too bad I still feel like the new guy, you mentally grumbled, rapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You took a breath, checked that your hair was in place and your shirt wasn’t wrinkled in the mirror and headed on your way.

“Oh, hello dear; I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right! My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

Wanda watched the woman on her doorstep, visibly a bit perplexed but smiling either way. She was confused about what special event she and her husband were supposed to be celebrating tonight after seeing a heart on the calendar but now that she had an unknown woman—no, not unknown; one of her neighbors—here, Wanda couldn’t possibly be a bad hostess and turn her away. 

Not that the woman, Agnes, would have let her do so anyway. She shoved the plant she was holding into Wanda’s arms and walked inside, talking without giving Wanda any space to chime in. “So, what’s your name, where’re you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Wanda quickly shut the door and trotted after the woman. She was newly stressed over the unknown event but now also giddy; this was the first neighborly welcome of many, she was sure of it! She reached Agnes’s side and stretched out a hand with a big smile. “I’m Wanda.”

“Wanda,” Anges repeated as if to see how the same felt on her tongue, before taking Wanda’s hand in a solid shake, “Charmed.” She paused, glancing around the house—Wanda felt an odd pang of anxiety—then continued, “Gol-ly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

Wanda struggled momentarily for an answer. Of course, she didn’t; she’d used her powers to unpack and decorate quickly, but she couldn’t say that to this stranger. She decided to go with an affirmative answer as it was the easiest route. She went to reply—

“If you did,” Agnes went on, “I should get the name from you. Our other new neighbor across the way still has a house full of boxes!”

Wanda blinked, her head tilting to one side out of curiosity. “Other new neighbor?”

“Why the house directly to your front!” Without waiting, the other woman walked to the front window and yanked back the curtains; she gestured to the house in question. “[Y/N]. They live on their own, you see, and probably could have done well with the help. Actually, they were going to stop by with me but they were running late for work. I told them I’d tell you hi for them—Hi for them!”

The loud car Wanda had heard a few minutes earlier must have been this other neighbor rushing off to work. It was nice to know that even though it hadn’t happened, there had almost been a party of two to welcome her and her husband to the street; it’s too bad that he had left for his own job only a while earlier.

Wanda made her way over to the window as well and took a look. It was more modest in size and build than Wanda’s own home, much more suited to house a single person. Despite Agnes’s claim of them having not unpacked, a few lawn decorations were set up and a pair of [F/C] curtains hung neatly framing the home’s front window. Wanda could make out various boxes leaning up against the window, evidence to Agnes’s statement, but otherwise, the place seemed well-kept. The yard was taken care of, though Wanda wondered if it was because the person had moved in just as recently as she and her husband did or if they just enjoyed garden work.

Apparently, she’d wondered this aloud because Agnes responded, “They’ve been here for about a month, just been too busy making a good impression at work and making a fool out of themselves to the other neighbors to make their house a little more homely. Poor thing’s a darling but struggling in the social department.”

Wanda continued to watch the house as if this other, slightly older newcomer was about to drive back up the street to home. Consider her interest piqued. Wanda wanted to know more about [Y/N], all of her neighbors really, but more importantly, why there had been multiple houses open and if it was common. She hoped this neighborhood was as friendly as it seemed and that it wasn’t danger or unkindness that had made multiple people move out. She opened her mouth to ask—

However, Agnes had moved on to a different subject, as well as a different part of the house. “So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

“Oh no,” Wanda, sighing softly, switched gears with her and replied, “I’m not single.”

You gulped down a gasp of air as you tumbled out of the elevator of Computational Services Inc, which earned you a few odd looks from unknown coworkers passing by. You’d bumped into one of them while skidding to a halt and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks and ears and you stepped away, apologizing profusely. You tried to reach your desk in a quick but professional manner, only stopping briefly to make sure your clothes and hair were still in order in the reflection of an office window. As you got closer to your desk, a small thing in an area separated from other employees, you heard the comforting sounds of typing and radio music. You got to your desk, pulled out your chair, sat your bag down, and began to sit, only for a voice to catch your attention.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Would you be so good as to tell me what exactly we do here?”

A British accent? Not something you hear every day around here. You pushed your chair back into place to prevent another worker from bumping into it and walked over to peer around the corner. You recognized Norm, a kind and well-mannered employee that filled out computational forms in this section of the building, standing and chatting with a taller, paler, glasses-wearing man that you didn’t know.

The British voice spoke again and now, at least, you could put the voice to a face. “Do we make something?”

The British gentleman was very tall indeed and quite handsome. He had light wavy hair in a side part, with a sliver’s worth that looked like it could fall into his eyes at any moment; you felt the strange urge to push it back before the idea of running your hands through a stranger’s hair made you blush again. His suit fit his lanky body well, though you’d expect nothing less as Mr. Hart was very strict about his workers’ appearance. His tie was interesting, a dark color with a simple, lighter print of four spots, two larger ones encased in a rectangle, and his glasses framed his curiosity-ridden face very well. Above his lovely-looking, light-colored eyes, his brows were furrowed as he looked animatedly around, as though his workplace was a puzzle he was trying to solve. You noticed he talked with his hands quite a bit and you also noticed that his large, long-fingered hands seemed slightly out of place compared to the rest of his body. They seemed like nice hands, though, and they probably did their job well.

Goodness, [Y/N], now you’re just being ridiculous. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your head against the wall you were hiding around. No, not hiding, because that would make your creeping seem even more bizarre. Definitely not creeping. Investigating.

You shook your head to refocus and looked towards the men, listening again. He is a bit of a dreamboat, isn’t he though?

Norm was answering the man. “No and no.”

“Then what is the purpose of this company?” the stranger continued.

“All I know,” Norm replied with a smile, “is since you’ve gotten here, productivity has gone up three hundred percent!”

Three hundred? That was a startling thought, almost enough to give you a headache. So you’re the reason I’ve had more files on my desk.

The stranger picked up one of said files and flipped through it. “Yes, but what is it that we’re producing?” 

He’s quite interested in figuring out the answer to that question, isn’t he? You felt another pang in your temple. How strange.

Your brows knitted together as you, curious, leaned into the pain a bit. The pain seemed to follow the British employee’s questioning, so you focused on it.

What did they do here anyway?

The harmless pangs quickly turned into a full-blown migraine, similar to what would happen if you thought too hard about your past. You grimaced in pain and reached for your head, only to lose your balance completely and fall forward, into the room you were observing. You hissed as your knees hit solid ground and you braced yourself with one hand while the other gripped the hair closest to your temple. You tried to look around for something else to focus on but your vision was blurry and you couldn’t tell if you were even moving your head.

Then there was shouting, which didn’t help the throbbing pain at all, and you felt what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands grasping at you. You couldn’t understand the yelling other than recognizing the voices as male; you tried to tell them you were alright, shake the hands off and get yourself some space, but nothing in your body seemed to be working quite right. Because of this, the voices and the various hands—or was there just two hands?—didn’t know what you wanted and instead of space, they crowded you. You felt grips on your shoulders and arms, even on your back— Then you were being lifted. Completely off the ground or only to your feet, you couldn’t tell.

Then the hands—only one on your back and another pair holding your arm now—guided you to a place where you could properly sit.

It was quieter now and you could feel the floor beneath your feet and an office chair holding your weight. You realized your eyes were closed so you opened them and you found your vision beginning to refocus. You looked around. 

“Goodness, are you alright?”

You could feel how red your face was—it was probably bright enough to be used as a neon stop sign—when you found yourself staring into a man’s torso. A torso that was quite close. You looked up and directly into the face of the British man, who no longer looked troubled by curiosity but rather quite concerned by you. 

Oh, yes, definitely a dreamboat, you thought without really meaning to.

Then Norm came rushing over, a cup in hand. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

“[Y/N],” the stranger repeated. He took the water cup from Norm, who hovered nearby, and squatted down to be at eye level with you. 

You wouldn’t mind hearing him say your name again.

Good Lord, stop it, you almost passed out!

“That is my name,” you managed. You even managed a definitely awkward smile, a couple of seconds of definitely awkward eye contact.

“Here, you should drink this.” He offered you the cup and once you took it, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up!”

I would imagine so, with how I feel. You sipped the water. Maybe you didn’t look as bad as you thought you did.

“Looks like you’re about to throw up too,” Norm very helpfully added.

Thank you for the commentary, Norm.

“[Y/N],” the other employee said, drawing your scowling gaze back from Norm, “do you have someone you could call? You look ill; perhaps it would serve you well to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. He did not look convinced but you pushed on, whipping up a quick white lie to cover up your jarring headache. “I didn’t eat this morning and I rushed to work to escape the antsville. I must have gotten overheated on the way and I’m sure an empty stomach helped that. Sorry for worrying—”

“What is going on out here?”

You both jumped to your feet; you moved too fast for having just recovered and stumbled but luckily both Norm and his colleague caught you and straightened you up before you fell over. No one wanted to be seen out of place by the boss and you were currently both out of place and sorts. Even though you knew Mr. Hart already saw you—hell, he was standing directly in front of you three—you glanced around for a place to hide. Instead, you saw files and papers scattered across the floor, the result of your migraine-induced fumbling. You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. 

“Well?”

There was a moment of silence. You felt Norm take a step away from you and you expected the other man to do so as well. He didn’t but you raised your head and squared your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“Sir—” you started.

“Sir,” the British gentleman interrupted, taking a step forward. “[Y/N] here was walking back to their desk and tripped, and in my haste to help them, I knocked over a pile of files on my desk. I apologize for the racket and the mess I’ve caused; I’ll deal with it right away.”

Mr. Hart looked from him to you to Norm, who was quaking in his nice shoes, then back. There were yet a few more moments of quiet before he spoke again. “Vision.”

Vision?

“Yes, Sir.” 

You glanced at the man to your right. Vision. What an interesting name for an interesting person.

“You better hope dinner tonight goes well after this charade,” Mr. Hart barked. “This better be cleaned up by the next time I come out here.”

Rather than looking upset or stressed, Vision looked relieved. He made a heart with his hands and muttered, “Mr. Hart. Of course…”

“And you,” the boss’s glare now settled on your face. “You were late this morning. In my office. Now.”

“Dammit,” you muttered after Mr. Hart had turned his back. 

“Sorry, don’t think I can help you that one,” Vision chimed in. He was rubbing the back of his head and squinting at Mr. Hart’s back. “You’ll be alright?”

“Promise, it was just a bit of the spins.” You gave him a friendly pat on the arm and made your way to hopefully not get fired. “Nice meeting you!”

“You as well, despite the unfortunate circumstances. Good luck!”

    Mr. Hart was waiting for you by his desk when he entered. He gestured for you to shut the door before he sat and as you did, you saw Vision beginning to clean up your mess before the phone on his desk started ringing.

    “Ugh, I’m exhausted.” You were exiting a shop downtown, squinting against the light of the setting sun. You held the door open with a toe of one shoe while you adjusted the bags on your arms, then moved around to properly hold the door for Agnes, who strolled out after you. “Hart was an absolute villain today! Barks at me for coming in late and not getting work done but then does it for an hour! Well now who’s keeping me? Then this British gent—I swear I’ve never seen him before but he’s apparently the cause of my last few busy work days!”

    “The looker?”

    You blushed a bit; Agnes will never you live it down now that you’ve slipped up and said you’d found the man attractive. “I may have mentioned that earlier—but I digress! As charming as the man was, helping me out even after I knocked over a bunch of his things, he’s still a powerhouse of an employee. Tripled my load of work with his own; now I get what Norm meant when he said productivity has gone up by three times! Imagine, being yelled at by my boss—who was one of the few well-off relationships I’ve had since moving to town—for an hour, and then, when you finally get back to business, your desk is buried in files! I’m barely breathing at this point! Ain’t that just a bite.”

    “Who’s flipped their lid now?” Agnes said with a cheeky grin. You responded with a tired glare and she scoffed. She moved her own bags to one arm so she could give your shoulder a good pat. “Just teasing you, dear! We can’t all be superhuman, unfortunately. Although you’re damn near close; thank you for helping me home, by the way. Ralph had a last-minute “meeting” with some “coworkers” tonight and I’m helping out our new neighbor plan a very important date!”

    That’s right, you had a new neighbor across the street. You’d almost forgotten. You knew there was a reason you’d felt the urge to pick up a small houseplant on your way through the checkout.

    “You have the mouth of a sailor, ‘Nes,” you quipped, cracking a grin.

    “And a drinking tolerance that would put any soldier to shame!” Agnes agreed with a short laugh. After a quick pause, she added, “It’s not like I said ‘fuck.’”

    That time both of you laughed and for the first time since your disastrous day, you felt yourself relax. After bringing up sailors and soldiers, Agnes lept into one of her half-complaint, half-stories about how, one time, her husband Ralph got drunk and tried to fight an entire bar—“Everything including the stools!” While she talked and you escorted her to your car, your mind wandered, curiosity about your new neighbors piqued again. You reached the sidewalk’s curb and helped Agnes stepped down, then opened the vehicle’s passenger door and took her bags. 

    Instead of sliding inside, Agnes watched you as you moved around to the other side of the car and put the bags in the backseat. “You’re a bit of a flutter bum yourself, dear. Look at those manners; you’ve been out and about all day and still came to help me with the groceries! And that voice! Absolute apple butter sometimes, when you want it to be. I’m surprised you aren’t already circled with a couple of children along the way!”

    You snorted as you opened your door and slid behind the wheel. “Just not in my plan, I suppose.” You gestured for her to join you in the car and started it up when she did so. “You didn’t see me today either. Creeping around corners, then these annoying headaches got to me and I was stumbling around knocking down everything! Not to mention the new guy, sweet as pie, saw me do all this and go absolutely red just from looking at him. Sweating, cottonmouth, everything. I must have seemed bonkers! It was awful.”

    Agnes offered, “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

    “I’m sure if he ever sees me again, he’s going to turn heel and walk in the opposite direction,” you stated. Then you shifted into gear, pulled away from the sidewalk, and turned towards home.

    You were in the one room in your house that wasn’t a part of the United Boxes, your bedroom, standing in front of one of the few pieces of furniture you’d managed to unpack since moving in. You fussed over your reflection in the mirror, pushing your damp hair from one side to the other, adjusting your tie one moment then readjusting it the next, holding up various hats and cardigans.

Your casual wardrobe was much more unique than the business attire you kept for work, which was generally neutral in both color and style. Tonight, you wore a collared button-up in a bright pattern of your favorite color paired with a tie that was darker in shade but equally bright in color, and you were debating between various cardigans in complementary colors. The pants you wore were more muted, a neutral color to go with the shiny black dress shoes and good quality belt that you usually only broke out for special social occasions. For a little more pop, you also wore a few colorful bracelets on each wrist and a ring or two. You even added a little more color to your still tired-looking face, despite you feeling much better after a nap, shower, and change of clothes. 

You finally settled on the combination of a brighter colored cardigan a more muted hat to pull your entire look together. Slipping the cardigan on and flattening out any creases, you flashed your mirror self your friendliest smile for practice’s sake. Then you gave yourself a twirl, craning your neck over over your shoulder to make sure everything looked just as nice from the back as the front. 

Now we’re cooking with gas, you thought. Hopefully, the neighbors think so too.

Satisfied, you made your way out to the living room where your outfit-appropriate handbag and housewarming gift waited. The young plant, a pachira, sat in a pot whose color accented the color of the house you were going to visit this evening as opposed to the simple white it’d come in. The pot itself wore a big ribbon bow that you’d attached yourself and sticking out of the soil was a card welcoming the neighborhood’s newcomers. 

Perhaps you’d finally make some friends tonight.

You picked up the plant-based gift in one hand and placed it securely in the crook of your arm, then picked up your handbag in the other and made your ways outdoors. It was a quick walk across the street and once on the neighboring house’s doorstep, you steeled yourself with a deep breath. You smiled, then frowned, then smiled again and repeated this a couple of times to make sure the first smile your neighbors saw wasn’t a strained one and raised your hand to use the oddly realistic-looking lobster door hanger.

Much to your surprise, however, the door opened before your hand ever reached it.

And there, in front of you, looking just as shocked as you felt, was your boss and his wife. 

“Mr— Mr. Hart?” you stammered, stumbling backward and almost dropping the plant under your arm. Remembering the last time you and your boss “conversed,” your friendly face twisted into more of a deer in the headlights look. “Mrs. Hart? What are... What are you doing here? You didn’t just move in, did—?”

“Is there a problem, Mr. and Mrs. Hart?”

Not only did you recognize the Harts but you recognized the British voice that came from behind them and the face that appeared with it. 

“Vision?”

“[Y/N]?”

The two of you stared at each other in surprise. That is until Mr. Hart cleared his throat; he and Mrs. Hart still stood directly in front of you, with Vision unintentionally blocking them from stepping back inside. You yelped an apology and stepped to one side, then had to catch yourself on the doorframe as you almost tripped down the front steps.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Hart said slowly as he stepped outside, giving you a particularly unpleasant look, “[Y/N] here lives in the neighborhood as well. Say, you live directly across the way, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately with a tilt of your head in the direction of your home. Then you glanced over at Vision and raised the pot you held slightly for him to see. “I was just coming over to introduce myself and offer a housewarming gift.”

Mr. Hart gave a strained nod, clearly still out of sorts about your work performance today. “Well, we were just out the door after the first dinner with the Maximoffs.” He made it sound like having dinner with your boss, while important, was something more of a religious experience. 

You hoped Vision did well. 

“He did just fine,” Mrs. Hart piped in.

There you go, accidentally wondering things aloud again.

“Congrats!” you chirped in Vision’s direction. You noted that he seemed as uncomfortable being in this situation as Mr. Hart acted and you felt. Perhaps you should have just visited in the morning.

Out of the group, Mrs. Hart seemed to be the only one unphased. She gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze and complimented your outfit—the one that her husband eyed distastefully—then lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I heard about your little brawl at work today. Don’t get bent too out of shape about my husband’s behavior; he has to work the weekend and he’s about excited as a cat that doesn’t get fed on time. We’re still on for bridge this weekend, right?”

You always liked Mrs. Hart. She was a good counterweight to her ever so charming husband and she always made sure to make you feel at home here in Westview, even if you struggled to do so yourself. You gave her a smile and a nod. “Of course, ma’am. You look stunning tonight, by the way.”

“Charmer.”

As you were talking to Mrs. Hart, Vision settled things with the mister, and things finally seemed to be calming down. However, Vision was wishing the Harts a safe way home, and you gave them a “Good night!” and a wave while wondering if you should just go home yourself, when a clatter came from inside the—what was it?—Maximoff household.

A voice followed, “Vis? Is everything alright out there, dear?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit; you already forgot that Mr. Hart had mentioned Maximoffs. Maximoffs, not one Maximoff. You were somewhat disappointed that, from what it sounded like, your new dashing British acquaintance had a partner, not that it was a surprise. He must have had people throwing themselves at him at one point in his life before he settled on The One and they immediately got married and moved into their cozy-looking, bigger than your own, house. Or, perhaps, maybe he was the awkward one falling all over himself to impress the person of his interest and when they finally picked him, he felt like his heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that found their home in his stomach.

Of course you were the only one on the block who was single and living alone.

You wondered if they had kids.

“... come in!”

You zoned back in from being lost in your thoughts to catch only the end of what Vision was saying. He stepped back from the doorway and held the door open for you and looked at you expectantly and, not wanting to make more of a fool of yourself that you already have in front of him today, you made your way inside, just hoping he hadn’t said anything important while you had been wondering about his romantic life. You felt heat on your ears and cheeks.

Vision, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Now that the Harts were gone, he appeared much more relaxed, leaning on the door with one leg crossed over the other and even smiling at you as you walked into his spacious and already unpacked living room. 

That was the first time you’ve seen him smile, you noted. He had a very charming smile, one of those that made his eyes smile too and seemed much more in place on his face than any other expression. 

Vision closed the door behind you as you looked around the space with mild surprise—how long have they been moved in? How had they gotten unpacked so fast?—then he gave you a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. It was then that you noticed more clattering coming from behind a door that you assumed belonged to the kitchen.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” he said, making his way to said door, “As you know, my wife and I just finished dinner with the Harts, and my darling Wanda is doing all the dishes. I’ll tell her to wait a moment and come join us! Do you drink fluids?” You must have looked at him oddly because then he stumbled on his words a bit before clarifying, “Alcohol? Or would you like water, juice?”

He certainly did talk with his hands a lot. You liked the way he clasped his hands and fiddled with his fingers while trying to untangle his words.

“Water’s fine,” you replied with a friendly smile.

Seeing that you weren’t bothered by his slip-up, he smiled back and made his way into the kitchen. Halfway through the door, he chirped over his shoulder, “Please feel free to take a seat! I’ll return momentarily!”

Being alone again for only a few minutes still had you beginning to feel the weight of the day’s chaos again. You placed your housewarming gift on the coffee table and rubbed where the pot had been digging into your arm, then wriggled your toes; because these were shoes for special social occasions only, something you didn’t go to very often, they weren’t very well broke in and your feet were beginning to hurt. 

The clattering in the kitchen had stopped but now the muffled voices of Vision and Wanda, which was somehow comforting. You looked around, taking in the classy but simple room. How on earth they’d managed to get unpacked so fast unless they used a company or stylist or somehow bought the place pre-furnished, you had no idea—well, you had a few, clearly. It was still surprising though. However they managed, you hoped your own living area looked half as nice. When you got around to it.

You perked up again as you heard the kitchen door creak… and then felt like your heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that immediately found a home in your stomach.

If Vision was a dreamboat, his wife was a, well, literal vision. Wanda wore a dress that was just as simple and charming as the house she lived in, paired with a pretty necklace and pair of heels. Her curled hair perfectly framed her face and despite appearing as frazzled as Vision had when you first showed up at their doorstep, she wore a smile so gorgeous that your heart, which had apparently recovered from its explosion of butterflies, decided it preferred to do somersaults in your throat.

The pair of them were standing hip to hip with Wanda carrying a set of glasses and Vision a pitcher of water. They were chatting lightly about how well dinner went as they walked into the living room before turning their set of beaming smiles in your direction. 

Your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to melt, tie itself in knots, or spontaneously combust. You decided to make it stand to properly introduce yourself instead.

Just living in the same neighborhood as these two was going to be cataclysmic. 

“Wanda, darling, this is my coworker [Y/N], the one I told you about earlier this evening.” Vision detached himself from his partner’s side and began snagging glasses from her hands to fill and place on the coffee table as she walked closer. “And [Y/N], this is my wife, Wanda.”

You and Wanda watched him hop around from her to the coffee table and back two more times with amusement, then Wanda looked at you and gave an incredulous shake of her head, offering her hand. “Hi, hon. Don’t mind him; he’s not usually this dancy but dinner with the boss was a bit unexpected on both our parts. I had to pull something together last minute and he’s trying to make up for it.”

“You did so much in such a short amount of time,” Vision added, finally settling on the couch beside Wanda after the two of you shook hands and got seated. “You deserve a break. I can handle filling a few glasses and doing up the dishes.”

“Speaking of which, I hope you got a break yourself, [Y/N].” Wanda’s comment and concerned look made your eyebrows raise with confusion. She elaborated, “Vision mentioned covering for you at work today.”

You flushed slightly and rubbed the side of your neck. Vision noticed and gave you an apologetic look.

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I get these awful migraines sometimes. One just happened to hit me at a particularly bad time today and I fell and knocked over a bunch of files. Your husband was an angel, did something he absolutely didn’t need to do and said it was all his fault.”

“And yet you got punished anyway,” Vision said, still looking apologetic. He wrung his hands a bit as well; you wanted to hold them to make him stop.

Wanda did instead, giving him the sweetest smile in the process. 

“But if it weren’t for you,” you chirped, “I may have just gotten fired. So I have to thank you for that. And I can’t imagine how that may have affected your dinner tonight, if I had known you were having the big boss dinner tonight, I wouldn’t have let you. I’m so sorry, by the way, for barging in immediately after your dinner, too; you two must be exhausted!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Wanda piped up again. She patted you on the wrist; you kind of wished she’d left her hand there but she went to pick up her water instead. “Dinner went quite well actually, if not a bit ill-planned. We had a bit of a misunderstanding of what the calendar said.” She gave Vision a playful glare and he responded with a bashful smile that he tried to hide by running a hand over his face.

“I drew a heart, for Hart,” he explained. “We forgot and thought we missed an anniversary instead.”

You thought back to when Mr. Hart mentioned the dinner at the office and Vision had made a heart with his hands, then tried to suppress a grin of your own. “That’s an easy misunderstanding. Happy to hear I’m not the only one good with planning, though, no offense.”

“Well, maybe you two should be married.” Wanda glanced between the two of you, the playful look in her dark eyes paired with her suggestion making your throat dry.

“You couldn’t remember it either, darling,” Vision countered, giving her a peck on the forehead, “If that’s the case, maybe all three of us were meant to be.”

You went to swallow and ended up having to suppress a choke. You reached for your glass, only to see it empty—when did you do that?—but Wanda was quick to refill it.

You gave her a sheepish smile and soft “Thanks” in return, took a drink and decided to play along. “That would explain why we ended up living directly across from the street and why I’ve been single almost my entire life.” 

You mentally kicked yourself for mentioning that last part and coming off way too desperate. However, when you glanced the couple’s way, Vision was chuckling, and Wanda was giving an understanding nod with a pleased look on her face. Maybe she thought her joke was going to hit wrong? Maybe it hadn’t been a joke?

Don’t get your hopes up, you thought.

Then Wanda spoke again. “You must be joking. You’re living on your own in that house?”

    You shrugged and responded, “I have a fish.”

    “I’m sure they’re wonderful conversation,” Wanda quipped back. 

    “No romantic interest in sight?” Vision asked. 

    Well, I wouldn’t say that but I’m certainly not going into that right now. You shook your head and decided to shift the conversation to a topic that was less likely to make you feel, if either or both of them did happen to ask you to marry them at that very moment, as if you would immediately throw yourselves at them. “Speaking of houses and all that, what a coincidence that we happen to find each other living next door the same day we meet. That’s what I originally came over to do, introduce myself to my neighbors and give you a housewarming gift.”

    You gestured to the pachira on the coffee table and Wanda reached over to touch its leaves, then used Vision’s still-full water glass to water it. “That’s right. It is a lovely plant, thank you very much. I think it will look nice in the kitchen, or perhaps over by the window.” 

    “It’s supposed to bring good luck to the house,” you offered, “and red ribbons are often associated with it but I’m not sure why.”

    “Well here’s to good luck then,” Wanda said, clinking Vision’s empty cup with your half-full one. She read the card you’d attached, smiled, then picked up the plant and offered it to her husband. “Here, dear. Since you’re taking on the role of house-husband tonight, why not take this and see how it looks over by the window.”

    Vision was already standing and taking the plant from her hands before she finished her sentence. “Of course, darling. Tell me where you think it looks nice.” Then he added to you as he walked by, “I may be skilled many things, like filling out computational forms, but the interior decorating is all her. I’m practically color-blind. And furniture-blind. And generally design-blind. Possibly blind-blind, if I’m being honest.”

    Wanda rolled her eyes but she still giggled, then pointed out where she thought the plant would look best. It was off to one side of the window and she explained that she thought it would be visible from your window as well, and thus give both houses good luck. 

    “Maybe it will give me the luck to finally unpack and decorate like you two already have,” you pondered allowed, finishing off your water a second time; Wanda promptly offered to fill your cup again but you politely declined. “The two of you have been here, what? At least a few days now and your home is already made in the shade. I’ve been here in Westview a month if not more and I usually spend my time lounging on a couch made of crates and boxes.” 

    You noticed Vision glance oddly at his wife as he sat back down but Wanda didn’t seem to catch it. Still, she answered quite quickly, “We used a company.”

    “Ah.” You glanced between them but the strained energy that suddenly appeared just as quickly as it came when Wanda gave you another sweet smile and offered to write down the company name for you. “No need, I couldn’t afford it anyway. Thank you, though.”

    That response didn’t seem to please Wanda all that much. She pursed her lips in a way that looked partially pondering and partially pouty—it was a very cute pout—before leaning over to Vision and muttering in his ear. His attention was immediately drawn to focus only on her and they chatted quietly among themselves for a few moments.

    You suddenly felt awkward again and took to looking around a bit. You first looked at your feet and noticed how close one of Wanda’s own was to yours; in fact, the three of you were sitting so close together that her dress poofed out over your leg. Then you happened to look over at where your arm was resting across the back of the couch. Vision’s was too and you suddenly became keenly aware of how, if he were to start talking with his hands like he does, his would most definitely brush your own. You wondered if it already had while you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, then you wondered if you should move farther to the other side of the couch.

    You began shifting to do so when Wanda suddenly leaned back to her normal spot and grabbed your wrist. “Why don’t we come over sometime this weekend and help you unpack?”

    You blinked. She seemed closer than she had been earlier, or maybe it was just the fact that hand hadn’t pulled away yet. Her eyes were as bright and welcoming as they had been since you first saw them, eyebrows raised in what you could only place as eagerness, and you officially decided that if you were to look up the word “sweet” in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of her smile.

    You were so suddenly flustered that for a moment all you did was stare while you figured out how to talk again. When you did, you were surprised at confident your voice sounded when you replied, “Sure.”

    “Great!”

    Wanda and Vision looked equally excited when you looked at them both, which confused you before you remembered that you were only the second person from the neighborhood to visit them since they moved in. Thinking of it now, you were also feeling energetic from the conversation and not just because you happened to be sitting next to a very attractive-looking pair. This was the first time you sat down with people from the neighborhood and it did not only go well but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself; you also enjoyed spending time with Agnes but Agnes was just outwardly friendly to everybody and even if you ran out of things to say, she had enough stories to add filler to seven different conversations at the same time. Wanda and Vision seemed to be just as awkward as you, making unusual jokes that might not make it through and fumbling over themselves and on occasion just being awkwardly silent at times, but it was a weird kind of awkwardness that also felt comfortable, comforting. You felt like you were among friends. 

    Conversation flowed easily for the rest of the night. The three of you made plans to spend the next day at your place, unpacking and decorating and just getting to know each other better, then conversation shifted smoothly from one random topic to another. Wanda had a lot of questions about the neighborhood and the people in it and she and you swapped stories of first meeting Agnes. You were somewhat fascinated with Vision’s almost eidetic memory and couldn’t help quizzing him on random subjects but luckily, he seemed to be just as eager to answer. Wanda mentioned Vision’s ability to play ukulele at one point and he felt is was absolutely necessary to perform and after mentioning Wanda’s breakfast cooking ability—and your stomach grumbling in curiosity—she brought you to the kitchen and made the best breakfast you’d ever had, despite it not being morning, while Vision kept to his word and washed the dishes. Eventually, though, the night caught up to the each of you and you said your goodbyes, hugs included, at the door and you headed back home with a goofy grin on your face. 

    Upon getting home, you kicked off your shoes that you’d long since forgotten were causing your feet pain and went to your bedroom. You quickly stripped, put on your bedwear, and faceplanted onto your sheets. You laid there for a moment in comfortable bliss before turning your head and catching yourself in the mirror. Though looking utterly exhausted, it was mixed an almost childish happiness. You finally felt content in Westview, like you’d finally found your place. 

    You scrambled around to get under the covers and curled up. Quickly dozing off and still grinning, you muttered, “I think I’ll like it here.”