#she is the white bread of music

[esdeaths]

For the site that likes to hate on taylor swift, so many of yall go crazy whenever the littlest thing happens with her

[tranquilitybasehotelcasino]

Hey, I just wanted to say I noticed you’re being really negative about the Taylor swift collab. Can I ask why you’re so upset about this?

yes of course you can ask. the answer is “i hate taylor swift”

[muirneach]

only the good die young is such a funny song like okay so some christian girl turned you down but trying to paint yourself as some bad boy is so funny to me. as if billy joel isn’t the most inoffensive goody two shoes ass guy around

[emacrow]

Selina adopt a new stray.. well almost ghostly cat like stray.

Selina had just finished her heist to steal some valuables cat related jewelry, even though their weren't very high in valuable, she just wanted them as a decoration.

Only to hear the most desperate yowl of a cat above between the alley that she was about to leap over.

Only to see a tiny meta cat like toddler all caught and tangled up in a gothams clotheslines screaming bloody murder was happening upon him. His desperate yowling and frantic moving getting more tangled up then isn't helping was going to alert either batman or his robin spawns any minute if she didn't do something.

So she caught the clotheslines string and caught the kid whom immediately froze upon being held. The toddler look like a batman's adopt-bait except for the white cat ears, glowing cat-like eyes, whiskers and white two tail?

Yea.. she keeping him after she untangled him.

By the time she got him with her newest stray without actually alerting any bats was surprising. She have to come up with a name after she bathe him and feed him because he is much lighter then a normal toddler should be..

Once he was clean (ignoring the multiple scars, precision cuts and v line on his tiny chest until she get her phone for photo evidences later), and clothed, she temporarily put him in a box for just 5 minutes so she can fixed him up a temporarily bed next to her bed using the numerous amount of soft pillows she have.

Only for the blood curdling scream to be heard a she panicking ran back to the living room only to see the kid stop when she noticed she was in his sight.

OH, oh no, his isn't orange cat dumb..

She decided to do a little test which was pull up the a random spare blanket from her living room, lift it up to not show her body and drop it as she seemingly disappeared.

Blood curding yowling began once more.

Yep. He is dumber then orange cat dumb..

She brought the box in her room as she fixed him up a nice temporarily bed. She brought him to her kitchen for meal time. Checking his mouth to see those pearly white teeths and fangs.

Damn she didn't had much groceries beside a couple eggs, a soda can, red strawberry wine for girls night, salmon dish she was planning to eat later, and the half eaten bread loaf she brought 3 days ago..

Selina smiled a bit as she sip her soda watching her new kid nommed the pieces of salmon that she cut up into bit size pieces. Listening to softest loud purr coming from him was music to her ears..

Part 2

[luveline]

Hey Jade!!! I was just wondering if you could do a soulmate au with Spencer please? Maybe something along the lines of those cheesy ones like the first words are tattooed on or they have the same tattoo idk, whatever you u feel like 😊

—Spencer meets his soulmate. You’re as lovely as he’s always pictured. fem, 1.3k

Someone will love me one day.

Spencer must think it a thousand times. When he has to put his mom in the sanitarium and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life, he knows one day someone will love him anyways. When he gets called ugly, too skinny, nerd, dork, and a handful of words that are even worse, he knows one day someone will say the opposite. He won’t be alone forever.

He was two when they appeared, dark black cursive words tucked against his pulse. Spencer felt ugly nearly every day of his life, wrong and weird, but the words on his wrist have never changed, ‘You’re so handsome I can’t believe it’s you.’

One day someone’s gonna look at him and see handsome.

Today, he feels pretty good. He’s back home in Washington, D.C., the grocery store he loves is open again after a long reconstruction, and they had a bunch of fruit from South America that he’s never tried before. He carries a white plastic bag full of fruit, bread and cheese back to his apartment, each step in the sunshine, the kiss of it warming his cheeks. A busker plays music near the mouth of the subway station. Nobody has yet to scowl at him for being in the way.

He’s wondering what he forgot when he sees you. You’re smiling, the sun on your face and arms, which are strangely full. Books slide against your chest, but besides a little huff and a shift of your elbow, you don’t seem to notice the slim paperback working its way through the crowd in your arms. It drops down onto the sidewalk but you keep walking. You must be in a hurry.

Spencer darts forward to your dropped book, thumb under the title. Charlotte’s Web by E. B White. The spine is flaking and soft from use.

He should call out for you. You’re already getting too far away.

Spencer crosses the road and dives deeper into the city with you. Washington, D.C. isn’t without grandeur —it’s the capital of the USA— and so he finds himself surrounded by potted trees and stretches of well tended grass. School’s broken for the day, children weaving around on bikes and scooters or holding hands with their parents taking up altogether too much space. He loses you in the crowd.

Spencer stops in defeat.

Maybe if he puts the book back in your path you’ll see it on the way back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t. Spencer keeps your book and starts to walk home. This isn’t how he’d usually get there, but he can manoeuvre around the park.

He keeps an eye out for you. Ridiculously, he’d thought about giving the book back to you and making you smile. He hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a cashier in two days.

“Hi.”

Spencer looks down. “Hi,” he says, spooked by the little girl in front of him.

“Is that for the library?”

He shakes his head regretfully. “No, I– I found it. I’m trying to give it back.”

“Okie dokie. I never read that one before.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not my book to give away… Where’s your mom?”

The little girl points at a mom and a younger child playing on the grass near a circle of benches. There’s a huge dark cabinet with its doors skewed open in the middle, and when he squints he realises it’s full of books. “Oh, is that the library?” he asks.

“Yes!” the little girl insists.

“Okay, well, here’s what we’ll do,” he says, looking desperately for you, disappointed when he can’t see a sign of your nice blue shirt or your sunny smile, “let me go see if I can find the lady who dropped this book, and if she says it’s okay, I’ll keep it for you to have. But you can’t run off from your mom again. Deal?”

The girl grins, thick hair shiny in the sun. “Deal!” she says, running in a burst toward her mother, who startles when she realises she’d left in the first place.

Spencer creeps toward the library. He can’t leave the book here now, he’s promised he’ll try to find you.

You come around the back of the library cabinet with a smile. Free Library, the sign says. Take one if you want, leave one if you can.

You stop in your path when you see him. You smile again, you’re prettier for it, lovely with the sun on half your face, your slight squint. You open your mouth to speak.

Spencer beats you to it. “Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you,” he says, raising your copy of Charlotte’s Web to his chest. “You dropped one of your books.”

You take a half step back.

Spencer grimaces. “I promised a little girl I’d ask if she can have it, I’m so sorry. I get stuck and I don’t know how to say no.”

Your eyes flash down to your hands. “You’re so handsome,” you say, and Spencer’s heart stops dead in his chest, your lips shaping each word without measure and somehow the prettiest anyone’s ever looked as they move, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

His shoulders sag with a deep breath.

You raise your arm to show him the contrasting font laid against your pulse. Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.

Spencer shows you his. You’re so handsome, I can’t believe it’s you.

“It’s you,” he says.

You press your hand to your mouth. “I was walking too fast, right? When I was a kid I thought if I made everybody chase me that eventually somebody would have to say it, but then it stuck, and I rush everywhere I go.” Your voice turns breathless. “But you’re the person who was supposed to catch up to me.”

He smiles softly. “I think so.”

“And I just told you you’re handsome. I’m sorry, I bet that was embarrassing to… carry around, all this time.”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says honestly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so pretty,” you explain.

“I knew you would be.”

You hold your hand out. He’s about to tell you he doesn’t shake but he finds he really wants to, and you’re not shaking his hand anyways, you’re holding it, looking at the cursive on his arm with a disbelief he echoes in his own smile. You rub the tip of your thumb over the word handsome.

“Do you like books?” he asks.

You nod distractedly. “I love them,” you murmur, looking up.

His entire arm is alive with tingles.

“Do you read much?” you ask.

Every word you trade with one another has this shy longing he’s never felt, like you’re desperate to know about one another but worried you aren’t allowed to ask. Spencer’s about to tell you all about it, how he’s always reading, how books have been with him through everything, but there’s a tug on his shirt that stops him.

“Hi,” the little girl says.

Spencer laughs. “Hi.”

“What did she say?” the little girl whispers.

Spencer looks to you for guidance.

“Of course you can have it. It’s an amazing book,” you say.

“Thank you!” she says, holding out her hands.

Spencer doesn’t mind handing it over. If she didn’t ask him for it earlier, he might’ve never had the courage to look for you. He could’ve left the book in the cabinet and turned around, but he didn’t. And now he’s met you.

You step into his side. “Did you– do you want to get coffee?” You peer down at the bag now slipped from his elbow down to his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Do you want to have a picnic with me?” he asks.

You nod for so long he has to laugh. “I’d love to,” you say, offering your open hand.

Spencer threads your fingers together. That one day he always dreamed of seems a lot closer than it did before.

[millersfinest]

untethered² | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.2 k

series: chapter one, chapter two (you’re here!), chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie flirting/teasing each other, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf, the millers, r is a writer, horndog ellie, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut, some corny time period song drops.

note: okay, i tried to fit a lot of stuff into this but it was getting too long wink wink. i’ve introduced rich!abby, she’s literally a generational surgeon purr. when i was writing this i was listening to some early 00s music and burn from usher came on… that’s ellie’s anthem ya’ll (for cat) lmaooo. i may not post another chapter before the new year, soo happy early new years to my moots, readers and followers (pookies) <3

After spending an extra hour, or so, with Ellie in the kitchen—laughing under your hands, stuffing bread into your mouths; you set an alarm for 6am. The same time clock that sat on your bedside table from your youth. Surprisingly, it still worked—waking you up with that same traumatic sound it used to for school.

You efficiently got ready; as in, you put on hearty jeans, cowboy boots, and a throw-away sweater because you had an obligation to fill on the farm. Every time you came back home, it was habitual for you to resume the responsibilities you used to have when the farm was your primary residence.

Around 6:45, you met your parents downstairs to begin prepping and planning who was going to go where. There was usually only three of you, but as you hovered over the black coffee on the counter—in your favorite antique mug—the screen door pulled open to reveal a sleepy-looking Ellie Williams-Miller.

She had a thick, black headband pushing her hair back from her forehead, and a low bun. The whites of her eyes were a little irritated and low-hanging, like she was exhausted. “Mornin’, Ellie.” Tommy spoke, rasping slightly. You and Maria parroted him—you standing up straight, instead of leaning over the counter.

Ellie settled across from you, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a comfort. She rarely ever knew where to put her hands. “Didn’t think you’d jump in so quick.” You commented, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee in your hands.

“The sooner the better.” She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Is there any coffee left?”

Before your mother could leap to helping her out, you set down your mug. “‘Course there is. Hazelnut or Vanilla creamer?” You walk over to the pot, not forgetting to pull down a mug from the cabinet. It was offhanded, unintentional—but the ceramic mug you grabbed happened to be hers from the past. An off-white color with her initial on the front in maroon. Ellie used to come over so much, she had her own mug.

She was the first to notice, a blush blossoming on her freckled cheeks. “Hazelnut…”

Pouring the hot coffee a quarter of the way, you added the creamer and dropped a spoon inside to mix it. Ellie wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee, so it was more creamer than coffee. Behind you, your parents began explaining and refreshing the jobs they usually do in the morning. They plan to handle the cows, goats and shipments; while you and Ellie can handle the chickens, horses and garden. “Now, Bug, she’s gonna be taking over your job— so, instruct her well, please.”

“You got it, dude.” You curtly nodded, after making a cheesy Full House joke, sporting a thumbs up. The only person to chortle was Ellie, while her lips were still parted over the side of her mug.

Tommy and Maria put their hands in the middle, slapping on top of each other. “Lets break out—“

“Come on, dad, do we have to?” It was so natural for you to complain at his antics, calling him dad, that you didn’t realize who you were doing it in front of company until much later.

When you were a teenager, every morning your broke out like a team—because, basically, that’s what you were. Splitting to conquer more ground; it took teamwork. “Honey, we always break out.”

Ellie set her cup down, amused. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, y/n.” She put her hand on top of theirs, raising her thick eyebrows. “Come on, break out.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your hand over her’s. “We’re the Miller’s on three.” You dragged, shaking your head. They all grinned around you like hyenas, and it amusingly pissed you off. One. Two. Three.

“We’re the Miller’s!” They exclaimed, along with yourself. Unable to remove the mirroring grin from your lips.

“All right, team. Let’s get to work.” Tommy asserted with a smile, drinking the rest of his coffee.

The four of you dispersed on the back porch. You scribbling on notebook paper to keep track of your duties. Ellie leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms, with her eyes trained on your focused expression. “Okay… We’re starting off with the chicken’s— do you remember how?” You glance up, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehm,” She clears her throat, pushing off the railing. “Uhm, yeah, totally. We get the food, right? The pellets?”

“Yeah, and…” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing smirk on your lips.

She chews on her lip, averting her eyes. “Scoop it into troughs?” Ellie questioned, slowly, knowing she was incorrect. The young woman just wanted you to correct her.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself a bit mixed up, Els.” The nickname slipped from your lips sweetly, but unpredicted. You were both shocked and did a bad job of hiding it. Your lips opening and closing like a gaping fish; Ellie licking her lips, still rocking on her feet. But to be fair, you were friends before everything—it shouldn’t have been weird. “Sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? It’s my name…” Ellie shrugged.

“Let’s just get to the chicken coop.” You chuckle, hiding the nervousness by trotting off the porch. Her name was Ellie, not Els—people who were close to her called her that, and they weren’t close anymore. It was just an example of muscle memory, really.

Ellie tapped her hand against the wooden post, following in your footsteps. “Feels good to be back…” She mutters, walking with her hands behind her back.

“You’re always welcome here.” You respond, approaching the shed that held the chickens food and such. Your fingers worked at the metal latch, pushing open the door. It creaking loudly from the rusted hinges. “Help me fill the buckets?”

She nodded with tight lips, crouching down where you were in front of a large bag filled with their food. You dug for the scoop, frowning at the smell. Ellie had grabbed a bright orange bucket, placing it beside you. Her eyes watching you, intently. Taking in all of your movements while scooping the pellets into the bucket.

Feeling her eyes on you, it was easy to start conversation—transition from that pier of tension. “You looked pretty tired… I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

Ellie hummed, switching an empty bucket with the one you just filled, putting it to the side. “Oh, no, of course not. I had an idea for a sketch… So, stayed up and worked on that.”

You grinned, peering at her. “Hey, the farm’s already workin’, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She chortled, averting her eyes.

Now, that was a clean cut lie. Ellie was a very smart girl—quick on her feet; she always has been. As she stood in that woody kitchen, munching on microwaved biscuits and giggling with her childhood ex-girlfriend… She had realized a fundamental truth. Or, more so, she was considering it. Perhaps, it wasn’t the farm she needed to sponsor her creativity.

It was you. In all of your self-made, manufactured glory. All it took was a glance for her to blossom with ideas—you were her muse.

That’s why she was up all night. She had propped herself on a stool, while her girlfriend slept, and began sketching where the both of you stood—by the shed. Ellie had drawn, scribbled, and shaded until the charcoal pencil fell from her fingers. Forcing her to rest, and by that time it was four in the morning.

Not without covering her work with a sheet, though. Your features were etched onto the canvas, that was too precious and vulnerable. Intimate. Telling.

Pulling her from her obsessive thoughts, you spoke. “Ellie, the bucket.” You bunched your eyebrows, with a tone insinuating that you’ve asked her more than once.

“Shit, my bad.” She stood up, picking one of them up by the metal handle. When she lifted it, she realized that she should consider weight lifting as a hobby—it was heavy. But, you held it in your hands as if it weighed no more than ten pounds. Ellie wasn’t right; the traits of a country girl never left you.

You began to walk out of the shed, toward the chicken coop, which was only a few steps away. “You know, I can let you off the hook if you wanna go take a nap, or something. We have, like, five more days for me to show you the ropes.”

“Really, it’s fine. You know I get a little spacey sometimes.”

“Yeah, when there’s a lot on your mind.” You pointed out, arriving at the coop. Opening the gate, you walk to another, slightly shorter gate to release the chickens. “Your breakfast has arrived!”

You set the bucket on the ground, Ellie doing the same, and you began to scoop out the pellets onto the dirt. They clucked and hopped around, pecking at the small pieces of food littered around. “Is there a lot on your mind?”

She hesitated to answer, dumping the rest of the pellets onto the ground. “Little bit…”

“Well, let this be a release from whatever you’re thinkin’ about. Not a distraction, but a release— it’ll keep you focused.”

Instead of pressing for what was on her mind, you responded with more thoughtful words. The fact that the both of you allowed your closeness to disintegrate or untether; you didn’t have much of a place to inquire. Asking too many questions could lead to fighting—if she were anything how she used to be. And you didn’t want to pry, even though a part of you assumed her exhaustion had something to do with Cat.

Ellie hummed once more, with her hands on her hips, watching you scratch their little heads. “Horses are next, right?” She questioned, blinking at you as if she were in a daze.

You chortle. “Yep. Excited to see Shimmer and Tokyo, huh?” A grin spread across your lips as you approached the gate. You paused, gasping, before you turned back to the auburn-haired woman. “Fuck, I have a surprise for you— almost forgot!” Rushing to grab her hand, you pull her out of the chicken coop. Keeping a firm grip on her palm; Ellie’s lightly holding yours as you pulled her toward the horse barn, glancing at her hand being embraced. It was a little ways so, despite the cool, morning air, sweat beaded between your palms.

But, since she was so enamored by your excited spirit, she held on.

When you arrived, that’s when you released her hand, unlocking the latch. Before your opened the door, you turned toward her faux lax expression. “Shimmer is, now, a mother…” You began, pushing open the door. Ellie gasped, grinning wide like a child before an arcade. “To a beautiful foal Tommy named Sarah.” You introduced coming up on their division.

“Holy shit,” She cursed, still grinning ear to ear. Her white teeth sparkling against the rays of the morning sun that peaked through the wooden panels in the barn. Shimmer peaked her head over the gate once she saw Ellie—like she never forgot about her. Nobody had. “Congrats, Shimmer.” She ran her hand along her strong jaw; the horse nuzzling into her touch.

Her olive eyes peered down, noticing the much smaller foal. Her coat was the same color as her mothers, but her hair had a blonder touch. “Can I?” She looked over at you.

“You don’t have to ask— she’s your horse, too.” You waved your hand. “I’ll go ahead and grab their food.” Leaving them alone, you hear Ellie marveling at Sarah. Causing a chuckle to leave your lips. You pet the other horses—Tokyo, Hamlet, and Ophelia—on the way to the other end of the barn.

Packing the buckets with differing pellets and chaffs, you filled their troughs and opened up their gates. Saving Shimmer and Sarah for last.

You walked over, leaning against the open gate. Sarah had nestled between Ellie’s crossed legs as she sat in the hay. Leaning into her gentle caresses. “I’m assuming she’s named after Joel’s daughter?” She asked, looking up at you from the ground.

“You assumed right.” You nodded, pressing your lips into a line.

“Does Joel know?”

“Not yet. It was a surprise for both of you.” You told, taking the liberty to join her on the ground. “I’m sure Tommy’ll say somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your fingers nestle through her course blonde hair. She was only about a week old, and the softness of her hair was already leaving. A sigh falls from your lips, glancing up at your old friend. Her eyes were already trained on your features, intently. Like she was trying to remember the intricacies of your face. “You think he’ll like it? Naming Shimmer’s baby after her?”

Ellie blinked, running her tongue over hr lips. “Uh, yeah— I think he’ll love it.” She chuckled, boyishly. The side of her lips curling up, as her eyes cast back toward the happy foal. “He’d probably want pictures of her everyday…”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking the pictures…”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t.” She affirmed. “If I didn’t, he’d blow up my cell.”

You laughed, backing up against the wall, leaning your head back as you peered at her. “He would wouldn’t he?”

A pair of footsteps caught your attention, and for a moment you thought it was your parents. You prepared to get up, but a new face came around the corner. Her brown eyes were sleepy, and she still was dressed in her pajamas. Hay clinging to the hem of her plaid pajama pants. “I was told that I’d find you here…” She spoke, mostly to the auburn-haired woman beside you.

“Mornin’,” You smiled, awkwardly. Standing up from where you sat. Cat smiled at you, but her eyes quickly moved back to Ellie.

“Ellie, can we talk?” She softly asked, fiddling with her fingers.

From the ground, she sighed, unmoving. “I’m kind of busy… Can it wait?” Ellie lifted her eyebrows, squinting at her girlfriend because of the sun’s rays. Her olive eyes practically glowing as the sun reflected through them.

“No. It can’t wait.”

“I can step out…” You offered, placing a hand on Shimmer. “She’s missing out on some grazing time, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine.” “Thanks,” Both Ellie and Cat spoke, causing you to pause in your steps. You bunched your eyebrows at Ellie, making an expression that read: talk to her! Ignoring the pleas of her beautiful features, you pulled Shimmer from her space. Leaving the two to talk.

It was always about saving face for you—you didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Cat. It was obvious that she knew about your past; you hoped that she did. Maybe, in a possessive way—in a way of I know her more than you. Or, in a way of context. That was something you were still trying to figure out.

Either way, your feelings for Ellie was private; something you were battling, as if it were a disease. Because it was wrong to hold onto a fragment of a memory—loving someone who was taken. It was childish. Letting them talk was putting a leash on yourself. There was nothing like some good ol’ fashioned self control.

While you contemplated, watching the horses meander around, getting their fresh air—conversation happened in the barn. Around the innocent, nuzzling foal, Sarah. “I just wanted to let you know… That I’m not mad at you.” Cat spoke, genuinely, leaning against the wooden gate. Her voice was firm and far from soft. “You know how I can get easily overwhelmed—“

“Cat, overwhelmed? You got pissed with me because I was asking her questions. That’s it.” Ellie retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fucking years. Do you expect me not to be interested in what she’s doing?”

“Okay, Ellie. My fucking bad!” She slapped her hands against her legs. “My bad for considering your history with each other— I’m being a jealous bitch. There. I said it for you.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Can we just stop acting weird? I don’t wanna fight. Not here.”

Ellie allowed Sarah to stand, walking from her space to where her mother was. Around the corner, entertaining you, although your peeving ear was open to their conversation. Even though, you couldn’t hear much.

She stood up, dusting herself off. “I’d never call you a jealous bitch…” Ellie muttered, approaching her, settling her hands on her jaw. “You have nothing to worry about, kitty Cat.” She spoke like a wish, leaning into the place a chaste kiss on her lips. Cat had shut her eyes, not noticing the glance Ellie made out the open barn doors at you—the back of you. Just before her lips met hers. She tried to keep Ellie, moving her lips against hers, but she pulled away, swiftly. “I have to get back to work, all right. No hard feelings?”

She sighed, pouting. “None at all… See you later?” Cat wondered, letting her hands drift down to her belted hips.

“See you later.” She smiled, pulling away from her.

Cat left the barn, waving at you on her way out. “See you, y/n!” She waved, wiggling her fingers. Her voice was sweet, but for some reason you didn’t like how smooth your name came from her mouth. But, regardless, you smiled back.

Ellie emerged from the barn with her hands in her pockets. She stopped where you were, watching the horses—mainly Sarah. “How’d it go?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You remember Dina and Jesse, right?” She changed the subject.

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, peering over at her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re going to a bar later… The Tipsy Bison, If you wanna—“

“Oh, I don’t know.” You interrupt, shaking your head. Chewing on your bottom lip, keeping your eyes trained on the trotting horses. The moment the relationship between you and Ellie was severed; that severed whatever bond you had with them. Jesse tried to stay in contact passively—when MySpace came out, he friended you. However, Dina was nowhere to be found. She must’ve hated your guts, right?

“What? You don’t drink either?” She chuckled, covering her nervousness.

Pressing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at her. “It’s been too long…” You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” She drawled, like a youthful plea.

“This is peer pressuring. Did we not learn about this is school?” Your feet carried you away from the horses, toward the garden. She followed after you with a sickening grin.

You pulled out your checklist, checking off the box by chickens and horses—clicking your pen with a smirk on your face. “Peer pressure… Shmeer Shressher.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, I don’t know. I might have something to write for my editor— let me think about it.” You made up an excuse on the spot, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if you opened up your email to see several messages from Isa Raymond.

“Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic, too?”

“I’m not.”

“Kind of seems like it.” Ellie shrugged.

You hit her arm with the back of your hand. “Whatever, Ellie. Think what you want.” The both of you arrive at the greenhouse. It smells of fresh soil and misty air—fairly comforting. When you were younger, it was the second best part of the farm for you. The horse barn being the first, of course. “This part is the simplest; just make sure all the veggies and plants are watered accordingly.”

You pick up a gallon half-full tin watering can, handing it to her. She took it from you with both hands, fingers grazing, lightly. “Oh, shit— I wasn’t paying attention with the horses. What do you feed ‘em?” Ellis began to stroll down the aisles, watering the soil.

“No worries, it seemed important.” You shrugged, mentioning the conversation between her and Cat. “I’ll just show you on the way back. It’s pretty simple— woah, not too much!” You place a hand on her wrist. She was pouring too much water into one of the potted plants. Her eyes locked onto yours, opened wide. “Sorry, I should’ve said this before… The potted plants need less water than the veggies.” She kept looking at you, the ends of her lips curling. “Carry on,” You urged, walking past her—in front of her, holding your own hands in front of you.

She couldn’t help but watch you go—hell, that’s all she’s been doing since she saw you. Watching. There was nothing wrong with that. Even if her eyes drifted to the way your hips were hugged in the jeans your wore. The sliver of skin that exposed when you bent down, or crouched, or even swayed your hips.

“So…” Ellie began, heading to your word and carefully watering. “Are you seeing anyone in Manhattan?” She asked, shamelessly with a perked eyebrow.

You pivoted, leaning your back against one of the aisles of vegetation. “Off and on…” Shrugging, you surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. “Dating in New York is like setting yourself on fire… And I don’t like getting burned.” You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes from her and the tomato’s. “Why? Is there someone you’d wanna set me up with—? I could use the help.” You joke, beginning to fiddle with the waxy leaves.

She snickered, approaching you with the tin watering can. Pouring nutrient liquid onto the carrot sprouts. “Dina, maybe?”

“Awe, you’re so funny.” You clap your hands together, sarcastically, leaning your chin on your hand.

“If you come out tonight, you can see just how funny I am.” She set the can down.

“I don’t have to go to a bar to see how funny you are. I’m laughing right now, aren’t I?” You mock a fake laugh, pointing at your mouth. Ha Ha. Ha Ha.

Wrapping your hands around the handle of the watering can, you pulled it from her to take over her job. “Just come, y/n! Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?”

A scoff fell from your lips. “It’s been a while since the gang was together, Ellie.” Occupying your attention with plants you watering. You fought to fight the frown attempting to grow on your lips, pressing them together and turning your body enough for her not to notice.

Ellie dragged her feet, following you. “It’s been eight years…”

Sighing, you slightly slam the can down, not enough to make a fuss but enough to signal your irritation. “Have you forgotten about what happened eight years ago?” You questioned, sternly.

She paused, inhaling, sharply. Ellie scratched her jaw, nodding her head. “Nope.” While she was taken aback by your sudden sternness; there was something that excited her about that pinched look on your face. The auburn-haired young woman has grown a lot since her youth.

“Okay, then.” You pouted. “Let’s just wrap this up, so we can reconvene with my parents— make sure all this stuff is done.”

And that’s exactly what the both of you did. The jokes and silly conversation ceased, and you basically finished in awkward silence. On the way back to the house, you showed her which foods to give to which horse, clinically. That playful look on your face was replaced with the one that exposed your unnerved feeling—from the horrifying mention of what happened eight years ago.

At the front porch, the pair of you separated. She waved a fiddly hand, peering over her shoulder as she walked back to the guesthouse. With a pair of shoulders that were slumped lower than they were from the morning.

Ellie didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—she should’ve never pushed you to hang out with her later. Perhaps, she got too comfortable too fast; but that’s just the type of person you were. Easily acclimatizing. It didn’t matter how much space could be between you and another person—you always found a way with making them feel at home. However, when you pull back, it’s a cold feeling. She just wanted to look at you some more, talk to you some more; be around you some more. Ellie couldn’t deny how refreshing it was.

You met with your parents assuring them that everything was done. They asked about Ellie, but you said she took all the information fine. She’ll probably just need a few days to really lock it in—but, you couldn’t stay long to chat. It was about nine in the morning, and you had to check your email and cell for messages.

First, you showered to get the smell of animal off of you. As much as you loved them, the stench was awful and you’d rather die than let it get stuck to the comforter of your bed. Then, you hopped onto your reading nook, and began going through your emails.

Scroll, scroll, Isa Raymond. Scroll, scroll, Frank St. James… Frank St. James—that was your editor! “Fuck,” You swore under your breath, clicking the bolded words, your heart grew nervous. What if he didn’t like it? You always took criticism much harder when writing the essay’s for your book because everything comes from your experience—your spirit.

Your eyes panned over the words, seeing nothing but: phenomenal, and powerful, and effective, and most importantly, this will be the perfect addition to your bigger work. “Fuck, yeah!” You shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

A head peaked through your door, dark brown hair crowded with grays, and aged brown eyes. “Are we celebrating somethin’?”

Looking up, you smile at Joel, pushing your laptop to the side. “Yeah, actually. One of my chapters got approved by my editor.” You sighed, happily.

“Looks like that book really is comin’ along…” Joel hummed, sporting a proud look on his face. “Good thing Ellie and I made some breakfast— hot and ready! Do your parents have any champagne, so we can celebrate with some mimosa’s?”

Standing to your feet, you waved a hand. “It’s not that serious, Joel.” You chuckle, letting your hands rest on your hips.

“You think mimosa’s are serious? Whew, you need to come back home more often.” He joked, leaning on the threshold of your door.

Rolling your eyes, playfully, a chuckle leaves your throat. He was always so supportive. For a moment you though you lost the opportunity to see that side of him a long time ago. “There might be some in the fridge… And some cranberry juice.” He nodded, pumping his fist—him and Ellie were so much alike. “Give me, like, five minutes and I’ll be down. I have to respond to some messages.”

“Of course, workin’ girl. But don’t let your mimosa get warm… Or your food get cold— we worked hard on it.”

“I won’t.” You smiled, watching him leave your door. Quickly, you pulled out your cell, checking your messages. Some complaining messages from Sierra, Isa Raymond complimenting you—which she didn’t do often—and, a message from a past love interest, Abby Anderson.

Abs: I’m gonna be in your hometown for a few days, seeing some friends. We’re going to a bar later, you should come!

You hesitate to respond, but you do.

You: Oh, nice! Which bar?

There weren’t many bars where you came from, it was fairly small. But, you were getting an inkling that it was the same bar Ellie had invited you to—the Tipsy Bison.

Abs: Tipsy Bison, I believe.

You: I’m totally in. Could definitely use a drink right now.

Abs: Want me to come by and pick you up? I drove the Jaguar ;)

You: As tempting as that sounds, I already have a ride. See you then, Abby.

You slapped your phone shut to meander downstairs to the breakfast that awaited you. On a hot plate, made by Joel and Ellie themselves—which, typically, was delicious. They were both wonderful cooks.

Stepping down the stairs, you heard a sound come from your silver cell. You flipped it open with a sigh, seeing Abs highlighted by a green line.

Abs: Oh, damn… Abby. We’re not on nickname basis anymore?

You pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached the bottom step.

You: Be normal about this, because I could’ve said no.

Shutting your phone, you slid them into the pocket of your pajama shorts. To purposefully ignore the rest of her texts until later. Everyone was still building their plates, walking to the dining table—including Cat, dressed in jeans and band t-shirt. Muse. “Joel, where’s the mimosa’s?” You arrived in the kitchen; Tommy hand you a ceramic plate was already plated with food.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Bug, the champagne in there has lost its bubbles— there’s no point.” He then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna congratulate you for the chapter approval!” Your father clapped his hands, causing the others to join in—Maria, Joel, Cat, and Ellie.

You kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad.” A blush frosts over your cheeks—face heating up like a furnace. “I hope we can get some by tomorrow. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

“I’m actually running downtown for a work thing…” Cat began, setting her plate at the dining table, preparing to sit. “I could grab some on the way back.”

“That’ll be perfect, Cat!” Maria exclaimed, smiling, brightly.

Why the fuck was she so nice? You almost wanted to mock your mother—even though they all just celebrated you a moment ago. Of course she’d offer to get the champagne. “Thanks, Cat.” You gave a toothless smile. A smile that plastered and could easily be noticed as fake by those around you. When you heard a snicker come from Ellie’s mouth, you knew that she noticed.

You shot her a glare, but that only made her lips spread into a wider smile. Toothy. Trying. As she settled into her chair, fork in hand.

Conversation over breakfast was light, and lovely. Slight jokes were made about Ellie’s farming skills, but nothing too much. You interacted with each other by mainly through looks and offhanded comments—enough for your mom to take notice. Nudging you under the table with her leg, but you gave her no mind.

After breakfast, you offered to clean up. And, of course, so did Ellie. You argued for a bit on who was going to wash the dishes, and who was going to dry them—settling on you washing and her drying. Cat took a taxi to wherever she needed to go, kissing the auburn-haired woman on the way out. Maria, Tommy and Joel settling in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wall, catching up on sports. Your mother was oddly into that kind of stuff. Leaving you and Ellie all to yourselves, once more.

“Thanks, Cat. You’re so full of it.”

You handed her a wet, clean dish, rolling your eyes. “You have no idea what I’m full of.” A scoff falls from your lips, slightly curling at the ends. It’s not like you were upset, you were amused—you found her amusing. There was time between the scuffle from earlier and now; plus, you had a bit of a distraction for later.

You lathered the plate, running it under the hot water to rinse it off. “Your poker face is the absolute worst. Some things just never change— be okay with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Some things never change. You’re still so fucking annoying.”

“And, I remember you also saying… Corny?”

You drop your hands in the sink, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Frankly, you missed this so bad. Meeting her eyes was like the tide rising on a beach—it always happened in way that was intertwining and overcoming. This was how Ellie Williams flirted; she was incredibly insufferable! Her voice dropped an octave, becoming a bit raspier than it already was. You were familiar because, well, she used to be yours. And, like she said, some things never change.

The only way you could respond was by peering at her. Inspecting her. Handing over the wet dish without sparing a glance at the ceramic plate. You watched as she primed her lips to speak. “All jokes aside…” She began, wiping down the plate with a turquoise towel. “I wanna apologize for the pressure earlier— coming out with me.” Finishing up, she set the dishes on the rack, leaning her lower back against the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest, the tattoo on her forearm coming into view—something you didn’t fully notice before. “I totally get the hesitation. Dina can be a… Handful at times.”

“About that…” You dried your hands, wiping the water off the counter. “I’ve actually decided to go. I could use some hometown socializing— and Jesse’s still pretty sweet.”

Her earthy eyes sized you up, squinting her eyes. “Oh, is that who you want me to set you up with?”

“Seriously, Ellie, keep your day job.” You rolled your eyes, fixing everything around the kitchen so it could look clean. “We kind of keep in touch on MySpace.”

She gasped, deepening her eyebrows. “MySpace! I don’t even have you on MySpace—! I’m friends with Jesse, I would’ve seen this.”

“Well, my username isn’t quite my name… It’s BugsWritersRoom, and my icon is a picture of a latte— I can understand the confusion.” You shrug, nonchalantly.

Ellie subtly clenched her jaw at the idea of Jesse keeping something like this from her. It was fucked up to keep her from BugsWritersRoom—Ellie needed to be in on that. Whether she was going to friend you or not. “I’m about to start writing a bit… What’s you username, so I can stalk ‘ya?” The tone of your voice insinuated that it was a joke, but you weren’t joking at all. However, it wasn’t that you couldn’t find her before; you just didn’t want to. Twenty-four hours ago you were keen on keeping your distance—that also meant watching her online.

But, since the rekindling of this stomped out fire, you might as well catch up. And she was planning to do the same.

“StarlighterWilliams…” She muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but wonder how she could shape shift from a semi-confident joker, to a bashful blusher within a few minutes—Ellie was one of a kind, certainly.

You hummed, lips curling at the sides. “Still a Savage Starlight fan, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least all those comics and merch I bought for you didn’t go to waste.” You glance at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, huffing. Before you went out tonight, you wanted to get some words out of your head—there was plenty of time, as it was only nearing one in the afternoon. But you wanted some alone time, too.

She wanted to respond with how she’d never toss the items you bought for her—something cheesy like that—but, you spoke before her. “I guess the next time I’ll see you, I won’t be in old-as-shit pajamas. What are you thinkin’—? 9:30?”

“Yeah, 9:30s fine…” Her eyes ran over your frame. The tight strappy top that clung to your adult figure, and the loose satin shorts that hung low on your hips. A water stain had grown on the middle of your stomach from washing the dishes, and because the shirt was white your skin peeked through. If only it was a little higher—

“Cool. See you later.” You walked around the island, toward your parents and Joel. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be upstairs working. Just call me.” Ellie watched as you bent down to kiss their temples, including Joel from an old habit. She watched you laugh if off, but your pace quickened toward the stairs. Your eyes flickered to hers, a causal finger pointing in her direction. “That goes for you, too.” You winked.

It was like everything was in slow motion as she watched you. Especially, that fucking wink! Yeah, Ellie understood that wink was probably for weed—it couldn’t have been anything else. “I’m getting myself into some deep trouble.” She spoke under her breath, hanging her head low.

“Hey, guys!” She spoke to the three Miller’s on the couch, stalking toward the front. “I’ll be at the guesthouse.” She waved a few fingers, with her mind occupied completely elsewhere. In the gutter, as many called it.

Joel turned around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch. “You don’t wanna see the bets for the thanksgiving game?”

Ellie didn’t even pause at the door, she responded while walking through. “Absolutely the fuck not. You kids have fun, though!”

She basically ran to the guesthouse, leaning her back against the door once she was inside. In short, she was horny. Oh, so horny—Ellie was without a muse in many different parts of her life currently. And, don’t get her wrong; her girlfriend was smoking hot, but she wasn’t you! She couldn’t be happier that Cat was out of the house. So, she could lay her back against the bed they shared, with her pants off and her hand between her legs. Mind trailing with images of you.

Meanwhile, you sat crisscrossed on your made-up bed, searching for Ellie. StarlightWilliams, she said. You clicked and scrolled until you saw her user icon. It was a picture of her playing guitar. Her short side-bangs covered her face, arms draped over the guitar she’s had for years. At least, it looked like that one that you were familiar with. The one you carved your initials into the back when you were sixteen. Somebody had taken the picture, and you hoped to God it wasn’t Cat. That was your first thought.

You were beginning to make peace with the fact that you were an asshole. Your parents raised an asshole who’s jealousy raged in a passive manner.

With hesitation, you clicked the her name. Her account popped up and was coded to absolute hell. Did she do all of this herself? The side panels had a bunch of Savage Starlight png’s floating around. And, there was a silly picture in her bio of Kenny from South Park—of course, she liked South Park.

Her mood was recently updated: Conflicted.

Her bio was very concise: i’m ellie :3. Which is then preceded by a couple music videos: Hella Good by No Doubt and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

You found yourself smiling as you scrolled down her profile, causing you to click the friend button without a second thought. Skipping over the photos of her and Cat, which wasn’t that hard to do—considering there wasn’t many. There were photos of Ellie cuddled between Jesse and Dina, looking happier than ever. Some mirror photos taken with a camera in her bathroom. Her hair mussed and choppily cut, but nonetheless, she looked good. Small nerdy shirts and low-hanging jeans, accessorized with studded belts and carabiners.

Hot.

Breaking you from what felt like a spell, your roommate began ringing your cell. She caused you to shut your laptop, and roll all over your bed talking to her. You paced around your room, playing with little knickknacks, glancing out your window to see the view of the guesthouse.

Sierra demanded to know the details about being around your teenagehood ex-girlfriend, and you told her enough. Not the intrusive thoughts about being a homewrecker, but how easily they got along. How the past had only come up once, but not in the way you thought it would. You bickered and joked and teased like nothing happened.

Now, your roommate back in Manhattan, laughed at that. She claimed that she had psychic tendencies, saying: you guys are gonna fuck nasty! You refused, feigning sounds of disgust. That wasn’t the case—that could never be the case. To change the subject, you mentioned Abby being in town, and she grimaced on the other line.

It was girl talk like no other.

After the call, you decided to quit daydreaming over Ellie’s MySpace account and actually start writing.

The next chapter you were working on was following moments after the breakup—the sorry attempts at moving on, college, moving from home.

You spent hours outlining and rough drafting, cursing at yourself because nothing was coming out right. Sooner or later, eight o’clock came around—meaning it was time for you to get ready.

Sifting through your luggage, you threw clothes over your shoulder trying to piece together an outfit. You wanted to look good, but you didn’t want to appear like you were trying too hard. Abby was gonna be there, so you couldn’t slack. And, Ellie hasn’t seen you in anything other than comfortable clothes since you reconnected.

Jeans were your safety, and a black jean vest you were going to put over a white v-neck—not forgetting the leather jacket to cover your arms and a pair of boot heels to give you some height.

You were ready by 9:15, adding perfume to the pressure points on your body. Dressing your lips in a sparkling lipgloss that complimented your skin. With a baggy purse on your shoulder, you clicked your finger on the buttons in your phone, descending the staircase.

Abs: Always so feisty, babe. See you later.

Seeing her message from earlier, you puff a frustrated breath from your lips. Babe. God, that woman needed to pipe it down—it’s like she knew you were gonna give it up, or something. That was actually something you were still unsure about.

When you appeared in the living room, your heels alerted your family to your presence. Ellie leaned against the couch, coolly, swinging her keys around her finger. She wore low-hanging jeans, a plain top with a striped long-sleeve under it with a thick jacket layered on top—probably Joel’s. “You ready to go?” You raised your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip—nerves wracking through you.

Either because of Ellie’s soft eyes on you, or the anticipation of seeing Abby. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, y-yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” She stammered, standing to her feet.

Maria sipped on a glass of wine, eyeing your clothes. “You look cute, Bug— for any reason in particular?” She raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Mom, I’m going to a bar… Why wouldn’t I look cute?”

“She’s a single woman in her twenties, Maria—“

“Let’s not.” You wave your hand, cutting Tommy off. “Ellie,” You spoke, subtly pleading.

She nodded, catching the keys in her hand. “All right, we’re going.” Ellie opened the door for you, allowing you to push toward the screen door—the one you held for her.

“Be safe!”

“Of course!” The both of you responded, glancing at each other with semi-stern eyes.

Heels clicking on the porch, you walk down the steps into the gravel. “Where’s Cat? Is she not going out with us?”

Ellie unlocked her truck, clicking the button on the remote in her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”She snickered, peering at you, unable to hide the glimmer in eyes from taking in your appearance. “Her work thing took longer than she thought. She didn’t feel like comin’ out.”

Yes!

“Ah,” You responded instead of jumping up and down, cheering. Getting into the car was a lift, hopping into the passenger seat.

Her copper truck had aged, but had that same old feel to it. Feeling the stitched seats, shamelessly, brought you back to when you were younger—sitting in her truck those first few times. It was kind of claustrophobic and intimidating being this tightly bound to Ellie.

She was less tense, shutting the door behind her. Ellie put the keys in the ignition, starting the car and turning on the radio. Blink-182, I Miss You, played low—the silence between the two of you speaking up. She scoffed under her breath, switching the radio to another station. “Too slow,” The auburn-haired woman muttered.

“I liked that song, though…” You look at her from the corner of your eye.

Hesitantly, she glanced at you, reached her hand back to the number to switch the station back to the alternative one playing Blink-182. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, putting the truck into drive.

The trip was no longer than ten minutes to the Tipsy Bison. A trip filled with radio music and glances back and forth. To occupy yourself, you played Tetris on your cell until you felt the truck slowing down in the parking lot. When she shut the car off, that’s when your nerves really picked up.

“They should already be inside.” Ellie pointed out. She inspected you the passenger seat, rigid shoulders and a clenching jaw. “You look good— great, even. It might be a little awkward, but—“

“How about this…” You run your tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry flavored gloss on your lips. “You go on ahead inside— I’ll meet you.” Pulling the handle, you hop out the truck. Your fingers rustle through your purse for the yellow pack of American Spirits and your lighter.

Ellie bunched her thick eyebrows, following you out the car. Locking the doors behind her. “What?”

“I can’t smoke inside… So, go ahead.” You popped out a cigarette, placing it between your lips.

“You sure? I feel like it’ll be easier if we walk in together.” She furrowed her eyebrows, seeing the uncomfortableness written all over your face.

“I’m sure, Ellie. Just go.” You avert your eyes, lighting the tip of the nicotine stick. Waiting for that first inhale to calm your nerves.

She stuffed her hand into her pockets, nodding her head. “I will see you inside, right?” Ellie questioned, fearing that you’d run off. Your only response was a released of smoke from your lips, and a pair of narrowed eyes. “Fuck,” She cursed. “Fine. See you inside.”

Ellie disappeared into the bar. You kicked a leg up against the wall, tapping the ash from your cigarette. Who knew what the feelings of one person could do. In your head, you played through every possible outcome of the situation—seeing Dina again. She could either be really sweet, like she used to be, or still be that grudging person that you familiarized yourself after that day.

The high beams of a shiny, black Jaguar came into your sights—blinding you. You hold up your hand, covering your eyes with arched lips. They were so bright, you didn’t realize who they belonged to until she got out. The blonde wore all black in the sleekest way possible—letting everyone know in this town that she was better than them. That was just the aura she had.

Her long blonde hair was pushed behind her ears and shifted against her black leather jacket. The high beams blinked off, as she approached you, pushing up a a pair of black sunglasses over her head.

“It’s dark out. How do you even drive with those things on?” You raise a skeptical eye, taking a drag from the cigarette between your index and middle finger.

“A hi or hello would be a preferred greeting.” Abby teased, lips spreading into a movie-star smile.

Pressing your lips into a line, ashing the rest of the cigarette out on the wall. “Hi, Abby.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder, really. Her strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. It was firm, but most importantly, warm and comforting. Your arms stretched around her back, nuzzling more into her embrace.

“I hope the cigarette’s the only reason why you’re standing out in the cold.” She pulled back just enough, to keep your bodies pressed together and to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You purse your lips.

Abby’s hand massaged your tensed shoulders. “Then, let’s get inside. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”

Ellie already had a drink in hand, and a water for you, unsure of what you wanted. Jesse and Dina had visited her many times in New York—this wasn’t a rekindling. It was just a couple of friends meeting for some beers and a few laughs. Her olive eyes kept glancing at the door waiting for you to come through in all of your glory. And, you were being timed. If you didn’t push through those doors within the next ten minutes, she was going to come out and drag you inside.

As she were about to tell them that she was going to get you, threatening Dina to be nice, you walked in. But you weren’t alone. A tall, muscular blonde had her arm around your shoulders, pulling your tight to her side. And, fucking hell, she looked so much cooler than Ellie did.

She watched as her blue eyes danced around the bar, looking for someone. They widened, and a smile spread on her lips. Hand raising to the ceiling to wave at her friends occupying a booth behind Ellie, Jessie, Dina. “Who the fuck is that?” She spoke, arching her lip in disgust—which wasn’t entirely purposely.

You noticed Ellie, standing from the table she sat at. Waving your fingers, you gave a small smile. Until your eyes landed on an obsidian-haired young woman, with a resting bitch face worse than your own. Dina was leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. You allowed Abby to guide you to the bar, ordering your usual—a double vodka cranberry.

Something about this night was going to be very, very long. Good thing Cat didn’t come out.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt

[quarterlifekitty]

cooking was mentioned but I kind of wonder how the cod men would react to reader bringing them cookies/some sort of pastry they know they like. Ive also had the idea of price getting turned on watching reader knead bread dough stuck in my head for some reason.. or ghost coming home to the smell of freshly baked pie (or something similarly wholesome) with blood still caked under his nails.... wrapping those large hands around my waist while i'm making the crust.. ughhh..sorry just- housewife reader who bakes treats and takes care of and dotes on a big military man and gets fucked senseless in return is so stuck in my head.

So I’m going to use this opportunity to speak gratuitously about Ghost’s relationship to food. Others have spoken of it at length before, but hopefully I will be able to add something new!

So we all know that Ghost did not have a happy childhood. He did not grow up in a secure home. He did not grow up with means. He was not nurtured, nor was he nourished. He enlisted at the first opportunity, and I think he nearly cried from being able to eat three, full meals a day that weren’t even that bad.

The next section of his life is a bit better in regards to eating, but not great. He knows where his next meal is coming from, and he doesn’t have to worry about there being enough to eat. He’s a grown man with a paycheck, he can buy food if he likes. But we all know the cafeteria food and MREs are demoralizing. They’re edible, but nothing more than that.

The first time he has leave, has to stare at the walls of his own empty studio and live for himself with the means to go grocery shopping as much as he likes— he’s at a total loss. No one ever taught him what he should be eating. No one ever showed him how to wash mushrooms. How to cut against the grain of a cut of beef. How to separate an egg yolk from the white. How to reduce a sauce. How to make sure scrambled eggs don’t overcook by taking the pan off of the heat.

So he starts very small. Eats like a college student. Lots of microwave shit. Works up to cooking himself some eggs. Almost moans at how good they are when it’s freshly cooked, on toast, and there’s no eggshell in it, and no one is yelling at him while he eats, he doesn’t have to hurry and get moving— it’s a really beautiful feeling he’s never gotten.

And maybe he had a neighbor at this time. Some older woman who noticed that the apartment that sat dormant most of the year had an occupant. One that still looked like a kid. Wore fatigues. Clearly didn’t have a family to go home to, if he was hanging around here on his shore time.

So she starts feeding him. Giving him a portion of what she makes for her own family. Casserole, cakes, stroganoff— anything. And Ghost will never forget that. The unparalleled joy of being given food from someone’s own home. Something they made. Something good. The food always tastes better when it isn’t mass produced. It always tastes better fresh. And it always tastes better when it was made by someone who cares.

The trajectory of his life and career don’t afford him much time. He spends most of his leave time cooking. Experimenting with recipes and learning. But that’s still such a small minority of his life.

When you, the fresh face in the 141 start bringing in food regularly, Gaz jokes that you’re buttering them up— trying to get in their good graces. You’re warned that Ghost is a hard won man. The truth is that no one has really tried home made lemon bars on him before. And they work like a charm.

Maybe a year or two later, you’ve gone on leave for maternity. You’re moved in together. It’s his first deployment without you working at his side. His first time coming home, and actually having someone to come home to.

And the house is alive. He can smell the currant and blueberry pie in the oven. You’re playing music in the kitchen. The house is so warm. There’s an unfolded blanket on the couch. The couch has a spaghetti stain on one of the arm rests.

And you. In loose pants and an even looser shirt with your bump visible. There’s blood under his nails. He smells like sweat and hot old dirt. But here you are, making the perfect nest for him. Not minding when he lays his head on your shoulder, embracing you from behind while you idly check the sauce simmering on the stove.

So are you getting fucked tonight? Baby, you’re getting fucked while that pie is on the cooling rack. You are getting railed after dinner and then you’re getting railed after dessert. And then you’re getting pounded in the shower and then he’s taking you in your fucking bed. And if you weren’t pregnant before, you definitely would be now.

[yappaccinocookie]

the strongest version of you.

yn cookie who awakens theirs fullest potential (like golden cheese and dark cacao)... ancients and beasts react to? (maybe gingerbrave and co too if u want!!)

of course you can! i did the same layout as the last request i made, since doing full oneshots for each cookie might actually kill me. I LEFT FOR A WHOLE 1 MONTH, IM SO SORRY. listen, this did not specify anything romantic, thus it's not romantic. the beasts are cruel, and it's obvious in their lore no this is not yandere is plain truth. sorry if some are short, I haven't gotten back into crk, and yk that's not rlly good!

LOWERCASE INTENDED!

ANCIENTS —

— White Lily

"Amazing... You found the strongest version of yourself!"

white lily cookie is overjoyed, she's always sensed that you're not to your fullest the first time she's seen you. she's very supportive and tries her best to help you get used to all of your new powers! don't expect any fights though, she's quite cautious. she trusts you that you can fight, but white lily doesn't trust herself.

her friends had an awakening like yours before, it all still feels unreal to her. you will definitely have those buddy–buddy sleep over conversations where there is no sleep, just psychology questions that make you wonder if she really is sane or if dark enchantress took all the sanity with her too.

— Golden Cheese

"Really? Does this mean we can battle!"

the shine in her eyes when you said that was absolutely priceless, tell her everything about it! power always amazes no matter no matter who its form, foe or ally! golden cheese has also awakened her fullest potential like you, and she's proud you were able to do it! saying how you guys are the coolest duo ever.

and of course, she's battle hungry! since she's unlocked her fullest potential and you've unlocked yours, it's only logical you guys battle right? it's to see the difference your strength. imagine how longer battles would last (and how many natural disasters it could cause in earth bread) don't worry you can entertain her shenanigans, but you shouldn't let her go overboard.

— Dark Cacao

"Well done."

dark cacao cookie doesn’t openly gush about your newfound power, but his respect for you deepens tenfold. he acknowledges your growth with a firm nod and a simple, “well done.” behind the scenes, he ensures you have everything you need to master your abilities, from intense training regimens to personal advice on staying disciplined.

he might test you in combat, not to belittle you, but to see how far you’ve come. don't worry, he won't mock you if you won't land a hit! he's got the patience of a snail. dark cacao will keep training and training with you until you're able to do more than your simple basic attacks.

he sees you as a vital pillar for the future of earthbread, he's seen you grow into this strong cookie with their own life ahead of them! more heroic duties to come, he's more than proud of you.

— Hollyberry

"Never hold back now! Cookies need more of us!"

hollyberry cookie is your biggest cheerleader. the moment your powers manifested, she was already planning a celebration in your honor. dialing everybody to come to your party, dialing fine arts to paint you 500 paintings to post as relics for guild museums. hollyberry throws a massive feast, complete with stories, music, and enough food to feed an army.

she insists on sparring with you, but it’s less about testing your strength and more about having fun. she laughs heartily every time you manage to surprise her.

she brags about you to anyone who will listen. “did you see them? that’s MY friend! stronger than ten hundred cookies combined!" she makes sure everyone knows how proud she is of you.

— Pure Vanilla

"My dear friend... I am so proud of you."

if you thought the others were so sweet, then you haven't seen the purest cookie of them all speak. they aren't even close to what our kings got! pure vanilla is absolutely overjoyed and emotional about your transformation. he probably tears up when he sees the extent of your growth.

he becomes even more protective of you, not because he doubts your strength, but because he knows the burden that comes with such power. he spends a lot of time talking to you about balance, reminding you to care for yourself as much as you care for others. pure vanilla is your go-to for advice on controlling your powers. he offers patient guidance and reassures you during moments of self-doubt.

he's not one to give you an extravagant celebration, because it's not his right to do such things. he'll buy you celebratory gifts on his own though, but considering this cookie is absolutely rich idk how many small gifts becomes one too many. purevanilla won't even talk about the awakening to anyone if you tell him not to!

BEASTS —

— Shadow Milk

"Oh, so you've decided to stop pretending you're ordinary?"

sure you've gotten your strongest potential, but for beasts it isn't really a problem considering they are much stronger than normal cookies. hes not impressed at all. he thrives on making others doubt themselves, and your newfound strength is no exception. (do not bring up golden cheese vs burning spice he could've won she got plot armor and although I'm happy she's alive him winning made more sense)

despite his dismissive attitude, he’s intrigued. he watches you closely, studying your every move, though he’d never admit it. “you’re an interesting little puzzle,” he mutters, half to himself. being all supernatural and ultra powerful doesn't protect you from this beasts horrifying teases, he'll ask you if you're a princess now or if you can talk to animals, that's like 2 from the several nonsense he's asked you daily.

he's actually quite hittable, hit him he won't hit back honestly, but if you ever call him unfunny? he's weeping and rolling on the floor (as a joke) saying "YOU MAY HAVE GOTTEN A LITTLE BIT STRONGER, BUT UR SENSE OF HUMOR WILL ALWAYS BE WEAK"

— Burning Spice

"That's it? I expected more!"

he actually gets intrigued fast, just like his counterpart he is also interested in strength. considering how he got wrecked by his counterpart because of her awakening, he might actually use his time to train with you.

burning spice is all about fighting everything until there is nothing left to fight, he'll push his limits. even yours! just say when u need a break, he'll say something corny like "I expected more!" and then run off and wait until ur done doing weak cookie stuff. hes not inhumane, hes just like you. it may feel unreal be he was once just a bunch of dough until the soul jam was created.

— Mystic Flour

"the world remains unchanged."

wins the idgaf war, she lost from that guy, but does not wish to prove herself again. mystic flour does not want to pressure herself with more nonsense, and probably doesn't want to for you either.

she recognizes your strength with a simple "impressive" or "fascinating" without putting much emotion into her words, then never look into it ever again.

Silent Salt and Eternal Sugar do not seem to be here, try again later?

[amirasainz]

Can you write some Gladiator!Carlos and Goddess!Reader? Maybe Charles is the priest that helps Carlos contact Reader and Carlos falls in love with her? Please, please, please♥️♥️♥️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

Goddess

The arena roared with life as Carlos emerged into the light, his bronzed skin gleaming under the harsh sun. He raised his gladius, saluting the adoring masses of the Capitol. Every movement of his body, every flick of his raven hair, was calculated and captivating. The people loved him as much for his victories in the arena as for his charm outside it. Yet, beneath the surface of his confident smile, there was a gnawing emptiness, a longing for something he could not name.

In stark contrast to Carlos’ boisterous life, his friend Charles lived in quiet reverence. Charles was a high priest, his life devoted to the goddess Yn, the deity of beauty and sanctuary. He was a man of elegance and grace, clothed in simple but fine robes, his voice soft but commanding. The two had been friends since childhood, their bond forged in moments of shared wonder and mischief.

This particular evening, they sat together in Charles’ serene garden. It was a quiet refuge, full of blooming flowers and soft, tinkling fountains. The sun was setting, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink. A small table laden with fruit, bread, and wine sat between them.

Before they ate, Charles clasped his hands, closing his eyes. “Goddess Yn, radiant light of perfection, we thank you for the sanctuary of your beauty and the peace you bestow upon us. May your grace guide us always.”

Carlos watched, amused but respectful, as Charles plucked a perfect white blossom from a nearby bush and placed it on a small altar dedicated to Yn. He poured a trickle of wine into a shallow dish as an offering.

“You really do take this goddess seriously, don’t you?” Carlos said, his lips quirking in a teasing smile. “You’ve mentioned her before, but I’ve never seen you like this. What makes her so special?”

Charles opened his eyes, his expression serene but passionate. “She is everything. Yn is not just a goddess of beauty, but of sanctuary. She is the place we turn to when the world becomes too much. Her presence is perfection itself. Those who feel lost find solace in her gaze.”

Carlos leaned back, folding his arms. “You speak as if you’ve met her.”

“In a way, I have,” Charles replied, his voice lowering as though speaking a sacred truth. “I have stood in her temple, basked in her light. She has no equal, Carlos. Not in the arena, not in the Capitol, not anywhere. You think you understand beauty, but until you have stood before her, you do not.”

Carlos raised a skeptical eyebrow. “She’s that perfect, is she?”

Charles leaned forward, a knowing smile on his lips. “Come with me to her temple. See for yourself.”

---

The Temple of Yn was unlike anything Carlos had seen before. It stood atop a hill, surrounded by pristine gardens that seemed to glow under the moonlight. The building itself was constructed of pure white marble, its columns etched with intricate designs of vines and flowers. Soft music seemed to drift through the air, though Carlos could not see its source.

Charles led him inside. The interior was quiet, the air thick with the scent of jasmine. At the far end of the temple was a statue of Yn, a figure of striking beauty carved from pale stone. She stood with one hand outstretched, her expression serene yet commanding.

Carlos was about to scoff at the statue’s perfection when he felt a sudden shift in the air. From behind the statue, a figure emerged.

It was her.

Yn walked forward, her movements so fluid it was as if she were gliding. Her form was human, yet ethereal. Her hair cascaded like molten gold, and her eyes held galaxies within them. She did not speak, but her presence spoke volumes.

Carlos fell to his knees without realizing it. “Yn,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He fumbled with the pouch at his belt, producing gold coins and laying them at her feet. From his pocket, he drew a crimson flower, offering it alongside the gold. “Take these, goddess. Take anything. Take my heart—it’s yours.”

Yn’s gaze fell upon him, and he felt as though the world had stopped. She stepped closer, the faintest smile gracing her lips. Then, to his astonishment, she bent down and kissed his cheek. Her touch was like a spark of fire and ice, leaving him breathless.

She turned next to Charles, her most faithful follower. With infinite tenderness, she stroked his face, her fingers lingering as if in silent gratitude. Charles closed his eyes, a tear escaping down his cheek.

Without a word, Yn turned and disappeared back into the shadows of her temple.

---

Carlos remained kneeling long after she had gone, his mind spinning. When he finally looked up at Charles, his expression was one of pure devotion. “She is… everything you said and more. I understand now.”

Charles placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, his own eyes still shining with emotion. “I knew you would. It is a gift to find faith, Carlos. You have seen her. You are changed.”

“I am hers,” Carlos murmured, clutching his chest as if to steady the storm of emotions within him. “Forever.”

Charles smiled, his heart swelling with pride. His dearest friend had found what he had always hoped he would: devotion to the goddess who had shaped his life. Together, they sat in the quiet temple, the lingering presence of the goddess Yn wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

[apiswitchcraft]

altars for greek gods (pt.2)

this post includes zeus, hera, poseidon, hestia, hephaestus, dionysus, ares, demeter, and athena. for part 1 including hades, persephone, artemis, apollo, aphrodite, hermes, and hekate click here, for the titans and protogenoi click here.

keep in mind that this is largely UPG, new age stuff, and historically accurate offerings to the gods include meat, wine, grain (specifically barley), honey, and incense (myrrh and frankincense).

colors can be used for candles, banners, decor, whatever you want

ZEUS

Colors: white, blue, and grey for association with the heavens, yellow and black for association with storms. gold because he's the King of the Gods

Offerings: rain water, oak, olives/olive branches/olive leaves, vervain, cinnamon, laurel. images of himself or lightning bolts are particularly recommended for Zeus

Crystals: diamonds, gold (i think pyrite, aka fool's gold, would be offensive), turquoise, lapis lazuli, celestite, iron/steel, any quartz

Animals: eagle, bull

POSEIDON

Colors: blue and white for association with the seas, gray for association with storms, brown for association with the earth/earthquakes

Offerings: coffee, mint, ocean water, salt, seashells

Crystals: coral, petoskey stone, abalone, opal (especially water opal), blue calcite, aquamarine

Animals: horse, bull, dolphin, hippocampus

HERA

Colors: red, pink and white for association with love and marriage. gold because she's the Queen of the Gods.

Offerings: iris, rose, patchouli, coconut, cypress, maple, peacock feathers, pomegranate

Crystals: pearls, garnet, citrine, diamonds, lapis lazuli, topaz, opal, moonstone, rose quartz

Animals: peacock, cuckoo, cow

HESTIA

Colors: red, orange, and yellow for association with fire, brown or white for the hearth/home.

Offerings: tea/coffee (especially if you drink it with her), pine, bread, cider, apples, anything on fire, cinnamon

Crystals: amber, jade, garnet, ruby, carnelian, sunstone, amethyst, honey calcite

Animals: donkey, pig, crane

HEPHAESTUS

Colors: red, orange, and yellow for association with fire, metallics for association with metalworking.

Offerings: spicy things, hot beverages, handmade things, dragon's blood incense, seashells, anything on fire

Crystals: metals, fire opal, honey calcite, obsidian, hematite, carnelian

Animals: donkey, dog, crane

DIONYSUS

Colors: purple and green for association with grapes/wine, leopard/tiger print for his holy animals

Offerings: grapes (or any derivative), alcohol, cinnamon, ivy, pinecones. there's a particular emphasis on non-physical offerings with dionysus, like playing music, partying or sex/masturbation

Crystals: grape agate, leopard jasper, crazy lace agate, tiger's eye, garnet, rose or rutilated quartz, amethyst, jade

Animals: panther/leopard, tiger, bull, serpent, dolphin

ARES

Colors: red and purple for association with war

Offerings: spicy things, yarrow, chocolate, basil, cinnamon

Crystals: bloodstone, garnet, red jasper, smokey quartz, black tourmaline, hematite, metals, obsidian, carnelian

Animals: eagle owl, barn owl, poisonous snakes, boar, vulture

DEMETER

Colors: green, brown, and yellow for association with the earth/harvest. black for her ruthlessness

Offerings: oats and grain, anything baked, flowers, spices (like cinnamon or cloves, allspice is good too), leaves that have begun to change colors for fall, mint, poppy

Crystals: jade, tree/moss agate, carnelian, amber, aventurine, rutilated quartz

Animals: serpent, farm animals (especially pig), gecko, turtle-dove

ATHENA

Colors: white and grey/silver for association with wisdom. red for association with war

Offerings: anything handmade, olives/olive oil/olive branches/olive leaves, snake shed, cedar, cypress, cinnamon

Crystals: metals, celestite, fluorite, lapis lazuli, bloodstone, obsidian, iolite

Animals: snakes and owls

[houseofripley]

Save A Horse Ride A Cowgirl

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, Cunnilingus, Strap-On, Riding, Orgasm Denial, Fingering (for like 2 seconds. don’t blink), Light Degradation, Spanking, Backshots, Lil bit of a mommy kink.

WORD COUNT: 2,736

A/N: -panting and out of breath- honey! it took me 800 hours but your oneshot is finished!

seriously tho sorry for the mid! writers block was beating my ass during this for no reason

Survivor Series, the day the wrestling community waited months for. You were sat at the edge of the bed in your hotel room, staring into the loud TV, waiting for your girlfriend to make her appearance for her match against Zoey Stark. 

You were supposed to be there but of course Rhea’s magment had fucked up their dates, leaving you without a pass to the event.

It killed both of you knowing you wouldn’t be backstage to cheer on Rhea. 

Anytime a pay-per-view even came around you’d clear your entire schedule just to support and help Rhea prepare. She took such good care of you it was the least you could do. Although you couldn’t physically be at the arena you still flew out to Chicago to at least be able to spend a little bit of time with Rhea.

You were pulled away from your train of thought as Rhea’s music soon started blaring through the stadium, “And her opponent, representing The Judgment Day, she is the women's world champion, Rhea Ripley!” The announcer yelled out as Rhea made her entrance, wearing what was possibly the sexiest gear she has ever worn.

“Holy shit-” You mumbled to yourself, leaning forward trying to get a closer look. Rhea looked insane. Her hair was in a faux mohawk, stripes of eyeliner ran over her eyes in a lighting strike pattern, black lipstick was smudged onto her right cheek. 

Rhea’s eyes never broke contact with the camera lens as she made her way down the ramp, she knew you'd be right on the receiving end of her gaze.

Once Rhea made her way into the ring you were able to catch a good glimpse at her gear. She sported a black vest over a black and white plunge top that was split down the middle, her shorts following the same theme while her boots displayed a cow print. But the bread and butter of this outfit was the black assless chaps. 

This outfit had to have been the reason Rhea was so protective over her suitcase these past few days. 

You sat eagerly watching the match, which was short yet action packed. Rhea had thrown Zoey around like she was nothing the entire match, your mind couldn't help but wonder what it’d look like if Rhea had manhandled you in the same way.

Rhea had retained her title with ease, barely breaking a sweat during the length of her match. You were quick to pick up your phone and congratulate her,

Y: YOU DID IT LOVEEEE!!!! and you looked good as hell while doing it….

Rhea replied about ten minutes later with a full body mirror selfie to show off her look, this time with an addition of a black cowboy hat and her hair out of the faux mohawk.

R: thank you baby, my hair wouldn’t fit in my hat so we had to ditch that plan :/ 

Y:  god damn! ditch wrestling and become a cowboy! 

Y: it’s so unfair i don’t get to see you like that rn urghhh

R: i know baby, i promise i’ll make it up to you tonight. look, i gotta go do a few things, i’ll see you in an hour or two okay?

Y: you better…now shoo and don’t keep me waiting for you all night

You huffed as you dropped your phone down onto your lap. The wait for Rhea had officially begun. 

There was one match left before the main war games match. Knowing Rhea would make an appearance in that last match you decided to rile her up a bit beforehand. 

You made your way to your suitcase and began searching for the new lingerie set you had bought just days ago while Rhea was training. You pulled out a bra made of intricate lacing along with the matching crotchless panties and garter belt. 

Once you had slipped into the lace you stationed yourself in front of the mirror. You used your free hand to grope your breast as you snapped a photo and sent it to Rhea.

Y: excited to see mami on my screen.

R: naughty girl…

R: are you really trying to get yourself into trouble right now?

Y: well i just figured since mami sent me such a sexy pic earlier i’d return the favor. i can send another one if you'd like…

You didn’t give Rhea the opportunity to reply before you snapped another picture, this time slightly rotating to your side to catch the curvature of your ass.

Seen at 9:36 pm.

You stared at your phone waiting for her reply but attention was pulled away as you heard The Judgment Day being announced, Rhea was nowhere to be seen as they made their entrance. You pouted as you laid down in the bed, your knees slightly spread as you watched in anticipation for Rhea’s appearance.

After a long match, intense and still no reply Rhea finally arrived at the end of the match, she came barreling down the ramp, this time wearing her cowboy hat with Priest’s MITB briefcase clenched in her hands.

You quickly took the opportunity to send Rhea a picture of your hand resting in between your thighs as she paraded on the screen in front of you. 

Y: just remembered a quote, something about save a horse, ride a cowgirl…

Another waiting game began. As much as you loved seeing Rhea clearly flustered on the screen you couldn’t wait for her to get to the locker room and see the message you left for her.

After a failed cash-in and two surprise returns from Randy Orton and CM Punk the main event finally came to a close, meaning Rhea was finally able to return to her phone. You picked up your phone to view your previous message exchanges with Rhea.

A text bubble appeared, indicating Rhea was on the other side drafting up her response. You chewed down on your cheek eagerly watching your phone. 

The text bubble disappeared.

Seen at 10:24pm.

You whined to yourself, a wetness growing between your legs. You attempted to make multiple calls to Rhea, only for each and every one of them to be ignored. You slumped into the bed, giving up on making contact with the woman.

Just moments later a banner popped up at the top of your phone,

R: face down ass up. you have two minutes.

Rhea had finally given you the attention you were craving. You needed her touch badly, so you gladly obeyed her demands getting into position in the center of the bed. Your face sunk into your pillow while your bare cunt peeked through the gap of your crotchless panties as you took in the sensation of the crisp hotel air that kissed your wetness.

You soon heard the quiet unlatching of the door followed by shuffling fabric. You peeked over to see Rhea, in that damn cowboy hat, discarding her streetwear to reveal the gear you’d been fawning over all night.

Rhea’s gaze was fixed on your arching back as she crept her way towards you. 

“Such a little slut for me,” Rhea husked, her weight sinking onto the bed as you waved your ass in the air. She took a moment to admire the sight of your wet cunt glistening in the dimmed light. 

“Just the thought of Mami has you all worked up.” Rhea relished, her hands skimming over the delicate skin of your ass before dropping a slap down onto you, causing a muffled yelp to leave your mouth.

Rhea moved her pointer finger to your heat and began to trace the skin around your wetness. Her finger took its time inching towards your hole before being pushed into you at a painfully slow pace, making you whine out into your pillow“Mami, please.” 

“What a needy girl.” Rhea taunted, watching you squirm against her finger, “Such a wreck already...” She hummed in response to your whining when she pulled her finger out of you. 

Both Rhea’s hands took ahold of your ass cheeks giving them a squeeze before she brought her face just centimeters from your aching heat. Shivers snuck up your spine as her heavy breaths brushed against your wetness. Her lips wrapped around you, her tongue beginning to draw circles perimitering your clit.

Rhea then pulled back and spat onto your cunt causing a high pitched ‘fuck’ to leave your mouth. She hummed to herself in satisfaction while she took you back into her mouth. Her hands still clenched to your ass as she began devouring you, acting as if she was having her final meal. 

All you could do was cling to the bedsheets and cry out into your pillow as Rhea took as much of you as she could in her mouth, her tongue piercing reaching brand new places. Due to your current position the tip of Rhea’s nose was repeatedly brushing against your entrance, adding fuel to the fire that was burning inside you.

“Gonna cum, Mami!” You pulled your head up from your pillow and moaned out. 

You could feel Rhea scoff against you before prying herself off your cunt, “No you’re not,” She groused, withdrawing all touch from you. “Such a spoiled girl, thinking you get to cum after teasing me when I’m working.”

“Please Mami! I’ll do anything- Just touch me, let me cum.” You pleaded, turning your head to look back at her with scrunched brows.

“You can beg all you want…but we both know that you won't cum until I say so.” Rhea’s tone was smug as she stood up from the bed. “Now…stay there and don’t even think about moving.” She growled on, making her way into the bathroom before closing the door behind her. 

You humphed to yourself, letting your head fall down to your pillow. It took everything in you to restrain your hands from touching yourself, but you knew if Rhea ever caught you pleasuring yourself she would push you to your breaking point. 

Several minutes had passed, your orgasm that was once near had seemingly wandered off. Your eyes were focused on the bathroom door as the knob rotated and Rhea emerged. Her shorts had disappeared and been replaced with a black strap-on…yet her chaps were still on. The sight alone had you arching your back as she lurched towards you.

“Look at you…all ready for Mami’s cock.” She murmured, crawling up behind you. She spat onto the silicon and slowly began jerking herself off, spreading her saliva over the toy before prodding at your slick coated entrance.

“Mami-” You purred out as the tip of Rhea’s toy pressed into your needy hole. Your walls were soon engulfing the entirety of her length. 

You had little to no time to adjust to her girth before she started ripping into you, leaving you at a loss for words. One of her hands was clamped to your hip while the other delivered a sharp slap to your ass before grabbing a fistful of your hair. “This is what you wanted isn’t it-” She groaned out while your cunt pulsed around her toy. “Sending me pictures of you whoring around the room, you were just begging to be ruined.”

The only sounds leaving your mouth were jumbled vowels mixed in with moans, she had you completely unable to form a sentence. You were powerless as Rhea pulled you up by your arms, bringing your back to press against her chest. 

You threw your head back against her shoulder as her hand trailed down to your clit, massaging quick circles against your swollen bud while continuing her merciless strokes.

“Don’t even think about it.” She whispered as you squirmed against her, letting out constant whines. Her free hand reached to wrap around your throat as you began rolling your hips back against Rhea. “Already fucking yourself against Mami’s cock?” She harshly questioned, her fingers adding more pressure against your clit, forcing a scream to come from your mouth.

“Such a slut.” Rhea lowly stated, letting go of the hold she had on you before pushing you back down to the bed. Her thrusts came to a halt as you rocked yourself on her cock. Her hand dropped a bitter spank on your skin, signaling for you to quicken your pace.

Rhea allowed you to fuck yourself on her strap while she caught her breath and admired the view she had of you. But your motions were abruptly cut off by Rhea’s hands firmly gripping your hips. You whimpered as she pulled herself out of you, leaving you empty.

Rhea flipped you onto your back before pulling you to sit upright. “You wanna ride Mami’s cock don’t you,” Her hoarse voice spoke, her hand moving to place her hat onto your head. You nodded, looking up to her with needy eyes while shifting to sit on your knees. “Use your words, princess.” She warned as her fingers gripped your jaw, taking control over you.

“Please, I've been waiting all night, Mami.” You swallowed, your breath shaking in anticipation as your hips wiggled with excitement.

“That’s it, good girl.” She hummed in approval, dropping the grip she had on your jaw. She brought herself to the head of the bed, resting her back on the headboard. You crawled up to her lap and situated your entrance to hover over Rhea’s tip. 

Your hands clutched Rhea’s shoulders as you began sinking yourself onto her length while moaning her name. As your hips started gradually bouncing, Rhea’s hands found themselves resting against your waist.

Meanwhile the pairs of your lips collided into a sloppy kiss. You whined into Rhea’s mouth, the piercing on her tongue brushing against your lip as her hands trailed to cup your breasts. Your eyes were glued shut as swayed yourself up and down Rhea’s length.

The overwhelming sense of pleasure was already washing over you. The combination of Rhea’s lips wandering to your neck, her digits toying with your nipples, and her cock being swallowed by your insides had your stomach contracting. 

Your pace picked up in speed as you tightened yourself around Rhea’s girth. As you focused on the movements in your hips Rhea’s attention was centered around your neck and collarbones, working on scattering reddish-purple marks against your skin. 

“Please-Can’t hold on any longer.” You pleaded with the woman through whimpers, your nails beginning to sink deeper into her shoulders. 

Rhea pulled herself from your neck, her hands moved to force your hips all the way to the base of her length. “Just one more minute, can you do that for me?” She questioned, her hands guiding you to rock back and forth.

“Y-Yes Mami,” You whimpered out at the sensation of your clit rocking against the leather band at the base of Rhea’s strap.

As the end of the excruciating sixty seconds neared your motions got sloppier with each motion. Rhea was sure guests in the other rooms  could hear your moans but you didn’t care, your mind was only focusing on not cumming at the exact moment.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl.” Rhea’s accent was thick as she spoke. “I want you to look at me while you cum all over my cock.” She added on while her fingers softly danced around your jawline.

Your eyes darted open once you heard Rhea finally give you permission to release yourself. Your vision was blurred by tears as you stared into Rhea’s oceanic blues. “Fuck-Oh! Mami!” You had barely managed to choke out, just seconds away from your climax. 

“C’mon,” Was the last thing you hear Rhea egg on before your orgasm flooded over you, leaving you crying out moans. Rhea’s hands moved to stabilize your twitching and shaking lower half. Quiet praises left your girlfriend's mouth as she helped you come down from your high. Your swollen lips placed a gentle peck against Rhea’s cheek as insignificant tears fell from your eyes.

“You okay, Princess? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Rhea’s gaze softened while her hands hurried to cup your face. 

You shook your head, giving her a weak smile, “Mm-mm, just felt really good…” You quietly replied as your arms wrapped behind Rhea’s neck. You gave Rhea a gentle smooch as she carefully pulled you off her length, the once black strap was now covered with scattered strings of whiteness.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, pretty girl.”

[oosleepyfaeoo]

A Kiss Is All I Need

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two

Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.

Warnings: Nothing much yet, just little fluff.

Words: 1,167

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Taglist: @zenka69 @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen-shy-elf @aemondsdelight @shari-berri @kckt88 @watercolorskyy @dae7tina @saturnssrings @dixie-elocin @arabis-world @tulips2715 @reedmurdock @ladythornofrivia @tssf-imagines @eeeeeevesstuff @venmondiese @bellaisasleep @darylandbethfanforever9 @snh96 @liv-cole

Aemond took a deep breath as he stood in front of your bakery. ‘The Faun Cottage’ was the name of your store. The display window was decorated with beautiful green leaves and antique books which served to hold cakes and baskets of bread.

He was dressed in a light white shirt with a leather jacket, black jeans, and super comfortable Doctor Martens, which he wears almost every day. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail.

Looking down at the watch on his wrists, he saw it was 2 pm already. “Here goes nothing,” he murmurs as he walks into the bakery. “You better be right, Aegon.”

The scent of fresh bread and coffee along with a sweet herbal smell hit his nose like a train. Inside the shop, it was warm and cozy. Green vines are climbing the walls into the ceiling and some ancient runes are painted on the stone walls which looks like a mix of cottage core with Celtic/Viking vibe. A faint medieval music played in the background. It looks like something from an ancient era.

There are some people seated eating their food, others reading or working while drinking their tea or coffee.

“Mommy! Mommy! My Prince is here!” Emily’s voice echoed through the shop, grabbing his attention. This time she was dressed in a simple brown dress with some hand-painted runes on it. Her black hair was braided, and two small antlers rested on her head.

Aemond smiles down at her and kneels to shake her tiny hand. “Hello, Emily.” He greets her gently. “And what do you suppose to be today?”

She gives him a little twirl and grins. “I’m a druid! I talk to animals and cure people's booboos with my magic!” The girl grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door behind the counter, saying a quick hello to the guy who was attending to a client.

Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him. “Hmm, I see.”

Emily opens the door and leads him inside. It was an office by the looks and by the desk full of papers and a laptop, stood a very stressed woman.

“Mommy! Look who’s here!” Emily chirps happily.

You looked up from your papers and gave him a tired smile. “Aemond... I’m happy to see you. Please take a seat.” You try to make your office table more presentable, putting all the paperwork in cases. “Sorry for the mess. It’s been a busy day. Maria needed the day off so I took over her work and... it didn’t go well.”

Aemond sat on the wooden chair in front of you while Emily went to the corner to play with her plush animals. “It’s no problem... Here’s my papers, all the training I did.” He gives you the case. “By the way, you have a lovely bakery. Very creative.”

The grin you gave him made Aemond’s heart almost burst out of his chest. Your eyes brightened at his compliment and how the dimples on your cheeks made you look so cute and innocent.

“Thank you! It was a lot of work to make it the way I imagined but it was worth it.” You say taking a seat on your chair. “So, shall we start with the interview?”

Aemond nods.

“Okay! So, your brother said you had experience with children. Your nephews, right?” Aemond nods again.

“Yes, my sister's children. Twins, a girl, Jaehaera, and a boy, Jaehaerys, of 8 years old, and toddler of 2 years old, Maelor.” Aemond smiled gently at the thought of his nephews.

You took notice of his gentleness as he talked about his nephews, which made you feel more relaxed with the idea of him taking care of Emily.

“They all have beautiful names.” You speak. “I’m not going to lie but it seems you are perfect for Emily. You have basic first aid training and CPR certifications.” You look down and read his papers. “Also, it seems Emily is already attached to you.”

You nod towards your daughter, who has her gaze fixed on Aemond while she plays. Aemond grinned at her which made the girl giggle and run towards him, showing him her favorite plush animal.

You pull up the documents for him to sign and put them in front of him. “It seems you got the job! You can read the agreement and then sign down here.” You smile. “I drive her to her school every morning. So, 3 pm you can go pick her up and she is all yours until 7 pm when I get home.”

Aemond nods and signs the paper. Opening the drawer beside you, you take a small notebook along with a key.

“Here.” You give him the book and key. “In here you will find all her allergies, her school, and our apartment address. That’s the key to our home.”

Aemond takes the book and the key from you, his pale fingers brushing gently against yours. “Thank you, Y/n.”

The way your name rolled through his tongue made your loins curl in a familiar feeling. You cough and look down to your laptop, a faint blush adorns your cheeks. Get a grip, Y/n!

There’s a small pregnant silence between you too. Aemond admires the way your face flushes so easily. Even tired, you look beautiful.

“Huh... Well! Ready for your first day?” You stand up and smile, trying to end the awkward silence.

Aemond also stood up, looking down at a very excited Emily. “Ready as I can be.” He gently grabs the girl's hand while putting her backpack on his shoulder and walks out of the office with you following close behind.

You kneel and give a big kiss on your daughter's cheek, making her giggle excitedly. “Have fun and behave.”

“Yes, mommy.” She grins and kisses your nose.

As you stand up, Aemond quickly pulls his wallet out and takes his business card. “I completely forgot to you give my card.” He says with an apologetic gaze. “My phone number is there in case you need something.”

You nod and take his business card. Emily pulls Aemond’s hand and jumps up and down. “Can I have an ice cream on our way home? Pretty please?”

Aemond looks in panic at you to which you laugh. “Yes, but only this time. Alright?”

“Yippe!” Your daughter squeals happily and pulls Aemond’s hand again. “C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go!” Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him while waving a small goodbye at you.

You waved back and watched them turn around the block, disappearing out of sight. You feel tears stinging in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of your daughter's absence drives you to panic.

“Deep breath, Y/n.” You whisper to yourself. “She’s going to be okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at the business card in your hand. Your eyes widen as you see a familiar red logo. A three-headed dragon.

“Wait! He’s THE Aemond Targaryen??!!”  

I hope you guys like this chapter!! Feel free to like, comment or reblog!

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing

1.01

The great hall was alive with the sound of fast-paced music, played by the kingdom's finest musicians. Torches flickered along the walls, casting dancing shadows across the ornate tapestries that adorned them.

Making your way through the crowd, you nod and say thanks to the lords and ladies who congratulate you, while your mind races with the thought of what urgent excuse you could come up with to leave your own wedding early. The news of the sudden wedding between King Viserys second-eldest daughter and Ser Gwayne Hightower, the brother of the queen, had spread like wildfire. A magnificent feast has been made, with the finest foods and wines from across the kingdoms being laid out on ornate golden platters. The scent of roasted meats and baked bread filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of freshly cut flowers. The walls are adorned with banners of House Targaryen and Hightower.

Salt in the wound.

With a cup of wine in hand, you manage to place yourself by the edge of the hall, on the outskirts of the crowd. Your gaze falls upon Rhaenyra; the sight of her elaborate red gown with the outlines of black dragons sewn into it takes your breath away. She looks utterly beautiful—a true Targaryen princess chosen by the gods themselves.

And in comparison, you felt invisible.

Your hair is meticulously braided and woven into an intricate crown atop your head, adorned with gleaming gold threads and shimmering gems. The luxurious white fabric drapes gracefully over your form, its skirt flowing outwards in a lavish cascade of emerald green that seems to move with a life of its own. The gown's intricate design features delicate embroidery and beading that shimmer in the candlelight, highlighting the regal bearing of the woman who wears it. The corseted bodice hugs your curves gently, accentuating your femininity without being overly revealing.

You hadn’t lived in Kings Landing for so long that you felt like an outsider. Saying goodbye to the loyal friends you had made over the years, along with the family unit you had built, was devastating.

A knight from the king's guard bows before you, “princess.”

“Ser Criston, isn’t it?”

“Ser Criston Cole.”

The knight glares at something behind you, and you’re mortified to see it was Ser Gwayne. You let the first glimpse of your real emotions show when you observe your new husband getting a little too handy with the lady he was dancing with. Ser Criston opens his mouth to say something, but a member of House Hightower approaches before he has the chance to say, “Congratulations, princess; this truly is a grand affair.”

“Thank you, Ser Hobert; I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Hopefully you will be blessed with another child soon, a male heir, just as Queen Alicent has been three times.”

Your nostrils flare as you take a large gulp of wine. Ser Criston locks eyes with you and clenches his jaw. It seems he didn’t appreciate the unwanted comments either. When you say nothing back, Ser Hobert swiftly leaves, spotting another member of his house and going to join them. It wasn’t just the added pressure of having another child that offended you; it was the complete disregard of Alicent’s daughter, Princess Helaena, who was just as important as your brothers.

“There is little good to say about Ser Hobert Hightower, princess,” the knight says. “Pay no mind to him.”

“I believe he has a tendency to overshare his thoughts. Earlier, he was saying, Otto's daughter holds the king's ear and cock, and now a Targaryen girl will take his son’s cock to produce more heirs House hightower.”

“You want me to kill him?”

Feeling an unstoppable smile pulling on your lips, you raise your cup to your mouth in an attempt to hide it. “It’s not often I turn down such an honorable offer,” you giggle. “But unfortunately, you would be a very busy man if you cut down every man who spoke about a woman as if they were broodmares.”

“I shall be at your beck and call from dusk till dawn, princess.”

His playful tone has a calming effect on you, helping you drown out the worries inside your head. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to think of something clever to say, but you’re overcome with excitement when you spot your uncle Daemon walking towards you. You smile at him brightly but become concerned when the frown on his face deepens.

In High Valyrian, he states, “I’ve told that Hightower cunt if he tries to insist on a bedding ceremony again, I’d have his head on a fucking pike by sunrise.”

You stare at him, speechless.

“My brother is a fool. He is so oblivious to the High Tower's blatant power grab that he’s allowed you to marry below your station. You are a princess, and he is a—”

“Uncle,” you cut him off when Daemon's voice became louder, attracting attention from others in the room. You kiss him on the cheek, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by the Hightowers. “We shall speak further about this in the morrow.”

—

Feeling your feet starting to throb from dancing for so long with Rhaenyra, you go and sit at an empty table. Once your legs are under the fabric, you lift your feet up in a very unladylike fashion.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, princess.”

Knotting your fingers together, you look up at him. “In truth, I’d much rather be reading a bedtime story to Meera.” The small laugh he lets out makes you think the night doubts your sincerity. “You think I jest?”

“No, I believe you, princess,” he smiles. “Although, most brides would be delighted to be the centre of attention.”

“I was never one for attention,” you say quietly.

Growing up, you were practically a ghost living in the shadows of Rhaenyra, but in truth, you enjoyed it. Your elder sister was confident, intelligent, rebellious, and confrontational. You always did as your father asked, and only after entering motherhood did you start sticking up for yourself. Life away from the Keep did wonders for you.

“It must be strange for you to return after all this time. Princess Rhaenyra speaks very highly of you.”

You glance over at your sister, who was dancing with a knight named Ser Harwin Strong, then back up Ser Criston. “I’m glad to hear that; I’ve missed her terribly living so far away. I just wish I had more time to settle in before…”

“Getting married.”

“Yes,” you say. “I’d never even met Ser Gwayne before today.”

“Well, he is a lucky man. I’m sure the king had many suitors to choose from.”

“Hmm,” your opinion on the matter of who you wished to marry meant very little to your father. “In the morrow, my father is going to pick up a personal sworn shield for me.”

Grinning, the knight leans in a little closer, saying, “Hopefully the king will make a better match.”

“Hopefully, Ser Criston.”

[giuseppe-yuki]

when the clock strikes 12'

baker!yuki tsunoda x princess!reader

w.c.: 2.9k

warnings: a sprinkle of fluff, slight allusions to sex, curse words, angst, mentions of death

summary: every night, you flee to the baker's son to receive the love you never got from your own family.

picture credits from pinterest :)

every day was unchanging. wake up at six am, breakfast of exactly one apple and a cup of oatmeal with a sprinkle of cinnamon, then onto history, etiquette, dancing class, horse-riding, brief pause for lunch, embroidery, languages, government, military tactics, dinner, then finally music. as the next brightest queen on the throne, you had to be perfect. you couldn’t be your little brother, running carefree in the woods, playing with wooden bows and arrows, or your younger sister, who spent all her hours gossiping and playing cards with the ladies of the court. trapped in a gilded cage, you had no choice but to endure all the classes your parents put you through and to your credit, you seemed to be the best daughter and heiress they could ever ask for. 

however, when the clock hit 12, you would routinely slip on your black cloak, pull the torch lever in the corner of your room, and flee down the steps out of the palace. the second your foot touched the soil on the other side of the towering stone walls, you could shed your disguise of being the powerful, multi talented crown princess of your kingdom. when you flew through the beaten path in the woods, cloak flapping behind you, and past the empty cobblestone courtyard, feet echoing quietly on each brick, and up the leafy vines, hands easily grasping the familiar branches, and into the arms of the boy you loved the most, you finally felt at home. 

he would unclasp your black cloak, fold it neatly, and place it softly on the singular wooden chair next to his bed. then, like always, he would flourish a covered plate towards you, pretending he was a fancy chef in the castle, serving you the finest food in the kingdom- dishes that average village people could only dream about. you knew, of course, that underneath the piece of tattered cloth, there sat two slices of warm bread, topped with your favorite golden honey, and a cup of milk from his family cow in the shed behind the bakery. no matter how many times you scarfed down the handmade bread, it tasted way better than any of the food you had at home. perhaps it had tasted so delectable, because he had made it with his love, something that you never felt in the castle. you would whip off the cloth like you always did, gasp shockingly at the worn, hand-carved dish and its contents in front of you, and pepper the boy with kisses until he was a giggling mess. then, you would each share a slice of bread (he would always purposely slide you the bigger piece when he thought you weren’t looking) and talk about your day together, as if you were just another average couple who were most definitely not a princess and a simple baker’s son. 

he would then tell you about the day’s customers, about the mean old grandpa named mr. horner who would yell at him for ‘lazing around all day,’ or his best friend pierre who always would buy three baguettes, cut up into fourths, or the kind blacksmith’s wife, susie, who would buy loads of pumpernickel for her husband, and sometimes his classmates, like carlos and charles, who would beg him to give them a sliver of cake. you pretended you understood what he meant when he would describe searching for wild potatoes in the forest with his friends, when the day’s bread was sold out. 

in return, you would tell him about your day, like when one of the lord’s sons, ollie, stepped on your white wool socks and ruined them during your dancing lessons, or when your friend dorianne told your french teacher that she ate un mur (a wall) instead of une mûre (a blackberry) for lunch, or how you galloped across the field on your horse faster than max, a duke’s son. he nodded like he knew the feeling of how ridiculous it was when the chef gave you one whole roasted chicken when you had requested a lamb chop and asparagus. 

later, when the soft bread was reduced to crumbs on the wooden plate, and you both had nothing left to say, you would kiss the honey off his lips, and he would laugh and shove you into his wood-and-straw bed. he would then lean over to the singular tallow candle on the patchy floor next to his bed and blow the flame out. underneath the glow of the stars, with the wisp of candle smoke wafting in the air, he would tuck you into his sheets, ‘like a princess deserves,’ and shuffle himself in the slot next to you, one arm around your waist. 

sometimes, you would both fall asleep immediately, one of your soft hands laced in his rough calloused one, your face nuzzled in the crook of where his shoulder meets his neck, breaths syncing together, and blankets swirled around like the hazy night mist outside the window. other times, you would look up at his face, where he looked down at you with lovestruck eyes. your gaze would drift down to his pretty pink lips that seemed to always be slightly chapped and you would forcefully pull him down into a heated kiss. those nights always seemed to end with your sweaty bodies tangled in his linen sheets, with you falling asleep on his naked chest listening to how his racing heart slowed to a soft pitter-patter and him gently caressing the length of your back. 

whichever night it was, you would always be the first one up at exactly five am, smiling at the sight of the baker’s son still sprawled on the bed, a drop of drool running down the corner of his mouth. you would get dressed in your black cloak, leave two gold coins that was worth more than a typical villager’s weekly pay (the baker and his wife never did understand how their son constantly produced such massive sums of money when their business was in a tight spot), and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. he slept soundly, knowing that you would always be back, like you promised, near midnight every night. 

quietly, you snuck out of his window, down the leafy vines, past the empty cobblestone courtyard, though the woods, underneath the stone walls of the castle, and up the stairs into your room, half and hour before your maid was to fetch you for breakfast. by the time the birds outside chirped their tunes and the maid knocked on your gold-embossed door, you would be back in your silk pajamas, underneath your thick hand-weaved cotton blankets and sunken into your soft feathery mattress. she would gently nudge you awake, and you would pretend-yawn, as big as you could, to make it seem like you had the best sleep in the world. and you did, but just not in your bed- it was in the arms of the boy you loved all but a half an hour ago in his bedroom on the second floor of his family’s bakery. 

very rarely did you ever see that boy not under the glow of his tallow candle that threatened to die out way too often, compared to the smooth beeswax candles you had lined throughout the rooms and hallways of your castle. once a month though, the royal family would pay a visit to all the towns in their region of rule. his village would always be the twenty second that you visited, and he would put on a knowing smile when you walked through the woods, down the cobblestone courtyard, and towards the building with the leafy vines on the side in your regal gold and white skirts and petticoats, procession in tow. the rest of the village would be gathered around the cobblestone courtyard as well, each individual working sector presenting a gift of gratitude to you and your family for blessing their town with your presence. your father accepted from the blacksmith a fine-crafted iron sword (which he threw into a box that contained the twenty one other similar swords from past villages), your mother accepted from the dressmaker and carefully stitched dress (that she immediately made plans to be turned into washcloths- the material of the dress was too rough!), your little brother accepted a little toy music box from the sales merchant (he would probably accidentally ‘break’ it on the way to the next village just to see what it looked like on the inside), and your little sister accepted a pair of sparkly gold shoes from the shoemaker (shoes that she would give to her maid, because a princess would never wear something so atrocious as shoes with fake pieces of gold on it!). and to you, the baker’s son would flourish, like he did the night before under your watchful eyes, a weaved basket with a full loaf of soft wheat bread, a pot of honey, and a big jar of cold milk. you would thank him profusely, hand lingering on his a smidgen too long, and softly place the item in your carriage to enjoy later. before you left the village on your horse-drawn buggy, you would glance out the window to see the boy give you a wink and a wave, because he knew, when the moon came out and the clock struck twelve, you would be back in his arms once more with the basket of food, and you both would feast like kings. 

it was like clockwork, through spring, summer, fall and winter, that you journeyed to the village bakery. years passed, and your schedule never changed. you would always be there, a little bit after twelve, with your black cloak and a smile on your face, and he would welcome you with a kiss and honey bread. it was like that until it wasn’t.

your father had gotten suspicious with your actions one winter. his first clue was how you always seemed tired in your lessons- how you dozed off a little bit in history class, how you accidentally pricked your fingers way more than normal in embroidery class, how you would skip dinner more often than not, and then rush through music class as if you were in a hurry to go to bed. his second clue came more by accident, when one of his guards had caught one of the dukes, jos’, son sneaking off from a side exit to meet some random stableboy named charles in a nearby town. your father’s rather aggressive guards had caught them embracing in the shady corner of some cobblestone courtyard. they had nearly beaten charles to death right then and there, but was stopped by max at the last second when he tearfully pleaded to them he would do whatever they wanted him to do, even if that included adhering to his father’s jos’ lifelong wish of turning him into the best equine racer in the kingdom- even if he hated racing. trudging back to the castle with a sobbing max in tow and charles’ broken and feeble body left in the courtyard, they could have sworn they saw a figure in a black cloak that was too high-quality to be a villager’s dart by the leafy vines. his third and final clue was when he ordered the guards to check your room at precisely 1am to make sure you were still snuggled in your bed like you were supposed to be, snoring away.

alas, you weren’t. you were listening cautiously, with wide eyes, as the baker’s son described how a stable boy was found half-beaten to death and frozen in the courtyard a day ago, and all he cried was strings of ‘maxmaxmaxmax’ when the village doctor finally nursed him back into a barely-alive state. that night, when you whimpered the baker’s son’s name into the crook of his neck and he muffled his cries of ecstasy into his pillow, you made sure to hold him just that little bit tighter in the afterglow as if you never wanted to leave. when the sun peeked through the leafy vines at the edge of the window, you gathered your things, and gave the boy a kiss on the lips. this time he awoke, unlike normal, and sat up on the bed. he looked at you with his head cocked to the side and bleary eyes, then laughs when he sees you put not two, but six gold coins on the singular wooden chair next to his bed. he whispers a soft ‘i’ll see you tonight’ and blows you a kiss before collapsing dramatically back on the bed. you can’t help but giggle to yourself and lightly skip all the way back to your room. you fail to notice how the stems of the vines have been hacked slightly, or how the snow on the cobblestone road had one too many sets of footprints, or how the pathway through the forest had deep imprints way bigger than possible to be from your feet in the slushy watery brown sludge, and how the torch-lever-door was slightly ajar when you arrived in your room. 

when you are awaken by the maid, you brightly hop out of your soft bed, unaware of the pitying looks she gives you. 

you attend your history, etiquette, dancing class, horse-riding, scarf down your lunch, embroidery, languages, and government. you are in your military tactics class, learning how wheels could perhaps be attached to open boxes and go on a circular track to gain speed and agility when the son of a baker is dragged rather unceremoniously into the dungeons below. 

he stays mostly silent; he knows that no one will be saving him now. he waits for a bit in the dim holding cell, watching as the beeswax candle smoothly burns on the wick. it’s funny how even the dungeons of the castle was the teeniest bit more fancier than his bedroom in the room above his family’s bakery…oh yeah, the bakery. he just hopes that his family will survive with the gold coins he had piled on the wooden plate that he typically served the princess on. he had shoved the plate under his covers just as the guards came barging up the stairs and dragged him towards the castle, his parents wailing in confusion and despair. his mind can’t help but drift back to your body, laid out so prettily beneath him the late night before. it lingered on his mind when the executioner led him to a dirty, bloodstained, block and forced him to hold his head over it. and when the swoosh of the blade fell down, the last thought in his head was that if you’d miss the bread that he would make, drizzled with honey with a glass of milk on the side. 

when you sneakily tiptoe past the castle walls, through the forest, across the cobblestone courtyard, and up the vines, you expect to see your lover waiting on his wood-and-straw bed next to the tallow candle, a teasing smile on his pretty face and rumpled black hair all messy on his head. there should be the usual wooden plate on his bed, and his singular wooden chair ready for your folded cloak. but what meets you is a wailing couple, a woman that seemed to have the boy’s shade of hair, and nose shape, and the man that seemed to have his eyes and his chin. the candle is broken in half, unburning, a wooden plate overturned with gold coins spilt everywhere, and a singular wooden chair that has its back board splintered in two. 

ten years later, when your father and mother have passed on, leaving you queen regent, and the military generals look up to you for your orders, and when you are forced to be betrothed to a so-called prince who spends all his time in brothels, fucking women who aren’t you, and your talentless brother and sister have wasted away in the castle, only alive to spread gossip and eat your food, you still wonder what had happened the the baker’s son that wintery night a little past midnight. yuki, you remember his name was. a name that means snow- like the snow that was falling around you when you climbed down his window for the last time, never knowing you would never see him again. you hoped that yuki had a good life. maybe he ran away, and got with a some pretty little commoner that didn’t have the same responsibilities you did, someone who could be with him day and night, someone who didn’t have to arrive at midnight and leave at daylight. or maybe he ran away to become a famous cook or baker- you knew he always had that talent within him. maybe he was in a far-away kingdom, cooking up the most delicious meals that were made with love. you remember those honey bread slices and milk that yuki always made you. but when you requested it from the chef, it never tasted the same. she would always give you three slices instead of two, warm milk instead of cold, or drizzled way too much honey on the slices. wherever he was, you hoped that your paths would meet again. maybe then, he could fold your black cloak nice and neat, make you the honey bread exactly how you liked it with cold milk, and you could talk about your day, and you could kiss the honey off of his lips, and he would tuck you into bed, and lay there with you until your breaths synced up once more.

a/n: ummm so idk what happened it kind of just flowed out of me... it's my first attempt at angst though so lmk if y'all like it :)

[taelophone]

Fresh Linen૮ ․ ․ ྀིა₊⊹

Joost Klein x Reader! TWs: RPF, the softest romance ever!! I made Joost after lucky blue lol W/C: 3,604! A/N: Reader is implied to be something other than white, but its not major. + Some music I found that really matches the vibe methinks!! <3

When Joost first garnered fame, he could never imagine slowing down anytime soon. He was like a rolling boulder ; starting off slow and inexperienced with his rough, jagged edges. But now he’s been rolling for years, refining himself into a smooth stone down the hill.

He said all his life that he had a pretty good idea of things he liked and didn’t like. Kids, cats, feet, all of those icky things.

But here he was, slouched in an ivory arm chair as he brushed his daughter, Adessa’s hair. His life had managed to compress itself down into a tiny, squirming little baby and rest itself on his knees.

You smiled to yourself, lying down on the couch opposite of Joost as you watched him experience pure unbridled adoration. “You’re gonna look sooooooo pretty, Dessie!” He cooed, gently working the bristles of the brush through the long, chocolate brown curls.

He took his time, gently working his fingers through the soft hair before using two blue rubber bands to tie it into two sleek twin pigtails. He fluffed her hair out a little, smiling eagerly as Adessa giggled, clearly excited to see how her hair turned out. 

You loved seeing Joost dote on your baby girl. When you first started dating, he was very firm about not wanting any type of children. But Adessa managed to have him wrapped around her little finger.

“Daddy, why do I have to brush my hair?” Adessa asked, squirming around slightly as Joost struggled to tie the little lace bows around each pigtail.

“So it won’t get all tangled and messy.” He hummed, gently tying the last bow.

You smiled, watching as Adessa began to ramble Joost’s ears off with her little voice. Joost seemed to cling to every single word, leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands on his knees as he nodded. “Ja, natuurlijk.”

“I’m gonna make some bread, do you two wanna help?” You offered, standing up from the couch. “We haveeee...4 hours before we head to the park, so that’s enough time to make a loaf and lunch.” You smiled.

“Yes, I can help!” Joost smiled, standing up slowly from the arm chair as to not knock Adessa off of his knees. “Des, wil je brood maken?” Joost asked, scooping Adessa up from under her shoulders and tossing her up in the air.

Adessa shrieked and giggled, eagerly lifting her arms up as she nodded. “Ja! I wanna help mommy!” She beamed.

You smiled, making your way into the cozy little kitchen, Joost following behind you with Adessa in his arms. You got everything you’d need to make your bread and laid it out on the counter in front of the window.

Joost sat Adessa down on the kitchen counter, leaning against it as well as he watched you set everything up to make sure it would take as little time as possible. 

“I’m…not a good cook.” He chuckled, grabbing the measuring cups and spoons for you in a heartbeat.

“I know, Joost. That’s why I said help.” You giggled, setting the large bowl next to Adessa, who kicked her little legs back and forth off the counter.

“Alright, Dessa! I’m gonna let you pour the dry ingredients in the bowl and mix, okay?” You murmured, filling each measuring cup with its corresponding dry ingredients, and handing them to Adessa one by one.

You supervised her carefully, admiring her with a soft smile as she carefully added the flour, sugar, salt, and dry yeast to the bowl.

“Do I mix now?” She asked, staring up at you with her electric blue eyes. She was such a cute girl, with those beautiful pools of blue she had inherited from her dad. But of course, you could see yourself in her face as well.

“Yep! Daddy’s gonna help me add the water, and then we can all knead the dough together!” You explained, handing Joost the one cup, and half cup measuring cups.

“Could you fill these with warm water, my love?” You smiled, turning your head to face him.

He nodded, taking the cups from your hands and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yes, baby.” He hummed, filling the cups with warm water and adding them to the bowl of dry ingredients.

“Alright, you two,” you began, stepping in front of Joost as you picked up the silicone scraping spatula, scraping the dry ingredients off the sides of the bowl. 

“There’s a certain way to mix bread. You don’t just go in an aggressive circle,” you showed, aggressively mixing the flour and water together. “Nah. You kind of like…fold it in. Stay from the bottom, and bring in to the top til’ it’s all combined.” You nodded.

“I wanna try!” Adessa gasped, immediately grinning ear to ear as she clasped her hands together in wonder.

“Of course you can!” You smiled, sliding the bowl over to her and handing her the spatula.

She did her best to mix, trying to copy the motions you showed her earlier as her brows furrowed in concentration.

You smiled, placing your hand over Joost’s as he leaned down, leaning his head on your shoulder and placed his hands on your hips.

“I love you.” He murmured, pecking the side of your head.

You smiled, leaning your head against his lovingly. “I love you too.” You hummed, holding his hand gently.

You chattered away with Joost and Adessa, finishing up with mixing the dough before dusting the counter with flour and tranferring the slightly sticky dough onto the powdered, sleek, and wooden surface.

“Alright, cover your hands in flour, and then you kinda just…knead it. Don’t be too hard, but don’t be scared of it.” You explained, kneading the dough gently.

You let Adessa try, letting her smack and poke the dough while she snickered and chuckled.

“Joost, roll up your sleeves and knead this for me please.” You requested, watching as Adessa hopped off the counter to go play her iPad. 

He nodded, reluctantly pulling himself away from you and rolling up the sleeves on his white collared shirt. “How do I do it again…” he snickered. “Show me.”

You sighed, smiling softly as you pushed him aside gently with your hip. “Like this,” you instructed, kneading the dough again.

He nodded, shifting behind you again and placing his hands over yours, kneading the dough with you as he hummed quietly to himself.

You kept going until the dough was smooth and matte, grabbing the little baking tin and slotting it into the pan and scoring a little heart into the surface.

“All done!” You smiled, holding up the pan to get a better look.

“You want any herbs on the top, baby?” You asked, craning your head upwards so you could look at him.

He brushed his hands off with the kitchen towel before placing them on the counter on either side of you. “Maybe some sage and rosemary.” He smiled, nodding subtly.

You nodded, slowly pulling away from him to find the sage and rosemary, plucking them from the fridge. You gently sprinkled the herbs on top of the bread before drizzling a little bit of olive oil on top and sprinkling a bit of black pepper as well.

“Put this in the oven for me?” You smiled, handing him the pan. 

He smiled, taking the pan from your hands and walking over to the already preheated oven. He swung open the oven door, wincing slightly at the gust of heat before gently sliding it onto the bottom of the rack.

“There you go, babe.” He smiled, his cheeks going a rosy pink from simply gazing in your direction. “I’ll go get Dessa dressed, and you can do whatever you want.” He smiled, whisking his way over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek and making his way to Adessa in the living room.

You smiled, feeling your sensitive little heart clench and vibrate at how he loved you so gently. Ever since you met Joost, he treated you like the most precious of gems. He wanted to make things easy for you; to dote on and pamper you like you were his most prized possession.

In Joost’s eyes, you and Adessa were his heart walking around outside of his body. When humans first thought of the word love, they described it as an attempt feeling of deep affection. But when Joost thought of love, he thought of laying down with you and Dess, listening to your soft snores as time passed you by second after second.

It was those painfully slow days that reminded him that love has no time limit. Even when he was long gone and miles underneath the earths crust, his spirit would make sure the sun kept shining and the earth kept spinning for his baby girl.

You used the time Joost gave you to prep a small breakfast and pack a little snack bag for Adessa, knowing she would ultimately be hungry after playing in the park. After you finished that task, you tugged your sleeves down on your sweater, fixing your  jeans and leaning against the counter to have a sparkling water.

Joost and Adessa emerged mere minutes later, with your daughter now in a blue and white gingham dress and frilly white socks and cute little Mary Jane’s.

“Mommy, look!” She beamed, running up to you eagerly to show off her outfit. She did a fast little spin, grinning from ear to ear as she gazed up at you for approval.

You gasped, making sure to set down your can before kneeling down to be eye level with her. “You look so pretty, Dessa!” You cooed, giving her a big hug and peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled uncontrollably, trying to push your face away and squirming away from your love attack. 

You sat her back down, giving her one last kiss before patting her head gently. “Daddy did a great job.” You nodded, looking over at Joost and smiling.

He nodded back at you, giving you a thumbs up and blowing you a brief kiss.

What a cute nerd.

You stood up, standing in the kitchen and watching as Joost walked over towards you.

“I made you guys a little charcuterie board.” You smiled, gently wrapping your arms around Joost’s neck as he held your waist and gazed into your eyes.

“Oh thank you, mijn liefste!” He smiled, turning his head briefly to munch on some blueberries. “You’re so sweet, I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled, resting his head on yours.

“Not true!” You fake-gasped. “You’re the best, too.”

“…we the best music..” he whispered, immediately giggling after. 

“Bye.” You giggled, moving to walk away from him, only for him to pull you back gently.

“No, dance with me.” He pouted, swaying with you slowly in the kitchen.

“You’re so corny!” You giggled, swaying with him as well.

“People are afraid to be corny, but I was born on the cob.” He recited, chuckling in your ear. You could really see where Adessa got her laugh from whenever Joost giggled. You recognized that ‘hehehe’ anywhere.

“Daddy?” A little voice asked, Adessa staring up at you with her big round eyes.

“Yes, little one?” He hummed, still swaying with you as he glanced at Adessa.

“Are you and mommy in loooove?” She asked, leaning forward and smiling at the two of you.

“Of course! I’d move planets for your mama.” He nodded.

You snickered, smiling just a little harder at his shameless admission.

“And I would for you, too.” Joost smiled.

Adessa nodded, clinging onto Joost’s leg as she giggled. She couldn’t understand slow dancing, but she wanted to be included in anything her parents did. So she danced along with the two of you, eagerly twirling around beside you.

You smiled, watching her with nothing but love. 

“Jojo?” You hummed, resting your hands on either side of his neck gently.

“Ja?” He smiled.

“You wanna watch a movie after we take Dess to the park?” You muttered, pecking his neck gently.

He smiled, stopping in the middle of the kitchen floor before walking you back into the counter and setting you down on top of the smooth wood. 

“Of course.” He smiled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You stayed together in the kitchen for an hour or two, chatting away with each other happily about anything and everything until the oven dinged, prompting Joost to remove the fresh loaf with your pink little oven mitts.

“The bread is finished!” He smiled, placing it on the table.

“Great! Thanks.” You cheered, hopping off the counter to stare at the loaf. You fought off both Adessa and Joost, desperately trying to explain that the bread needs to cool before you cut or eat it.

“Mommy it’s ok, the bread won’t know!” Adessa grinned, standing on her tip toes in an attempt to see above the counter. Joost scooped her up, setting her down on the counter beside him as he admired the fresh baked loaf as well.

“It looks very good! Good job.” He praised, giving Adessa an approving high five. She nodded firmly, crossing her arms at her job well done before suddenly gasping.

“Mommy helped, too! Say good job to mommy!” She squeaked, pointing a finger at you.

He giggled, turning over to you and smiling.

“Thank youuu, amazing beautiful great gorgeous fiancée!” He beamed. 

“You’re welcome!” You chirped, kissing his cheek. “Alright, we can head to the park while that cools.” You nodded, heading into the living room to slide on your shoes and grab your keys.

Adessa followed behind, smiling happily as she toddled behind you, grabbing onto your fingers as she followed you out the door.

“Kom op, papa!” She called, turning her head around to pout at Joost, who was tying his shoes.

“Yeah, hurry up grandpa!” You teased, putting your hand on your hip. “You’d really make a child wait to go play at the park?” You snickered, watching as Adessa mirrored your pose.

Joost looked up, raising an eyebrow at the two of you as the picture finally panned out. He saw just how alike you and Adessa were, and suddenly all the noise in his head stopped. He was happy where he was, and couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Hold on, I’m done I’m done!” He giggled, stumbling out the door behind the both of you and closing the door.

“You got some flour on your nose.” You chuckled. “Coke allegations pending.” You whispered, motioning to the upper bridge of his nose.

He laughed, quickly clearing the flour away from his face.

“I’m not Charli.” He giggled, following behind you and Adessa closely.

“Are you sure? You seem to be bumpin’ that…” you joked.

“Nee, nee nee nee! I’m not.” He giggled.

You walked in the warm sunlight towards the park, taking steady breaths of fresh air as you admired the beautiful scenery.

The Netherlands was a bit of a change from the atmosphere you grew up with, but more grass was definitely a plus.

When you made it to the park, Adessa had set off to go play with the other kids in the grass.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around Joost’s arm and walking with him through the grass. Since Friesland was really small in retrospect, you had no doubt people recognized him, but you were grateful nobody made the move to bother or approach you with your child.

“I never thought I’d be getting married soon…” Joost suddenly blurted, holding your hand gently.

“I know, this all feels so unreal to me.” You smiled.

“I used to just say I was ok with my bloodline stopping at me…and now look, I’m engaged with a daughter.” He giggled.

“Nobody knows where they’ll end up, and that’s ok.” You shrugged, allowing Joost to pull you down and sitting in the grass with him, just far enough to supervise Adessa.

He nodded, smiling softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

You stayed at the park for a good hour, running around with Adessa in the grass as she chased you with a magical leaf that would make you go “boom!”

“Alright, Dessa, let’s go home and have some lunch, okay?” You smiled, scooping her up and spinning her around. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around your neck as she waved bye to her park friends.

The walk back was relatively quiet, and you could tell that Adessa had fallen asleep. You chuckled, gently shaking her awake so she could stay up long enough to eat, have a quick little bath and then go to sleep later.

“Here, I got her.” Joost murmured, gently taking her from your arms. You smiled, thanking him wordlessly as you reached the front door and pushed it open.

You sat your bag and keys down on the side table, slipping your shoes off by the door and heading into the kitchen. You made a quick little sandwich for Adessa with some smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomato, and red onion. What a non-picky baby.

You headed into the living room, handing the sandwich to a very sleepy looking Adessa whose head kept drooping onto her dad’s shoulder. Joost chuckled, watching as she perked up momentarily to eat her food.

“I like your bread, mommy.” She murmured, finishing up her sandwich with a little smile.

“Thank you!” You smiled, patting her head softly. “Im glad you like it. I made it with lots of love, just for you!” You explained, booping her little nose. 

She smiled, leaving the crusts on her plate and placing it down on the coffee table. “All done.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes as she leaned on Joost’s shoulder again.

Joost sat up slowly, ensuring she wouldn’t fall over on the couch before picking her up. “Bed time!” He beamed, dancing and twirling up the stairs with Adessa.

“I got her, just go get comfy!” He smiled, turning back to you briefly before disappearing upstairs. 

You cheered quietly, quickly setting up downstairs for movie night. You laid out the blankets, snacks, and drinks before shuffling upstairs to your shared room to change into some pajamas.

You decided on a matching pair of pink fuzzy shorts and a pink fuzzy hoodie. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing out the hoodie delicately and making sure you looked ok, even thought you knew Joost wouldn’t care even if you didn’t, because in his words “it’s okay to not be okay.”

You smiled, giggling at yourself briefly before making your way to the bathroom to check on the two of them, only to see a tub overflowing with bubbles and an Adessa with a soapy Mohawk.

“What the actual hell, Joost.” You murmured, eyes widening at the height the bubbles had managed to somehow reach. Adessa was lost in the midst of it, blue eyes just barely visible through the forest of bubbles.

Joost smiled, instantly freezing in place before slowly turning to you.

“Hello!!” He waved, slowly putting down the bubble bath solution.

“How much of that did you use!” You half-chuckled, half-scoffed, watching as the blue coloring practically spilled over the floor.

“Mommy it’s okay, I’m the bubble princess!” Adessa giggled, raising her arms up through the hoard of suds.

You sighed, but smiled softly. The cleanup would eat you the fuck alive, sure, but at least she was happy.

“Of course, sweetie.” You giggled, heading back out the bathroom slowly. You retreated downstairs to the couch, taking in the warm, orange-y yellow lighting that consumed the room. It reminded you of fall, with the sweet spices and crisp days that brought you so much joy.

You waited for no more than 5 minutes on the couch before the little pitter patter of feet came down the stairs. 

“Mommy!” The little voice whispered from the top of the stairs. “You gotta come say goodnight to me!”

You chuckled, standing up from the couch and jogging over to her. “Of course I do! C’mon!” You whispered, heading upstairs to her all pink princess themed bedroom.

Even though she had sworn her allegiance to nothing but pink time and time again, she still had the cover art for her dad’s beloved albums up on the wall next to her bed, courtesy of her father.

She scurried into bed, giggling as Joost pecked her little forehead gently. He had to completely sit down to be close to her bed, which was almost comical to see, but you didn’t wanna laugh at how massive he was just yet.

“Alright, goodnight sweetie.” You whispered, gently tying a little scarf around her head so her hair wouldn’t look crazy in the morning. “I love you!” You cooed, peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled, leaning up to kiss your nose before laying back down and rubbing her eyes. “I love you too…” she murmured, trying her best to keep her eyes open as she watched you and Joost turn off the lights and slowly leave.

You closed the door behind you two, smiling at Joost before giggling and scurrying down the steps like eager children. You crashed onto the couch together, cuddling up as Joost snatched the remote off the armrest and turned on the TV.

“This parenting shit is easy. W’s in the chat.” He giggled, pulling you as close as he could.

“I don’t know about easy, but you’re definitely a great dad!” You smiled, resting your hand on his chest.

He rolled his eyes, snickering quietly as he kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

©Taelophone<33

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Homebodies

A little fluff for your TTPD weekend.

~~~

“No I promise, just sit down, I’ll be done in just a minute, mom.” she says firmly in response to her mother asking if she needs any help in the kitchen. Travis just gives Andrea that one look she’s grown to know too well. His eyebrows raised an inch and a smirk on his face that tells the blonde woman he’s got her daughter all figured out.

Leave it to me.

She giggles quietly at Travis, then slowly walks back into the living room to sit down next to Scott. Travis looks at all the different dishes on the counter behind her. The California sun is slowly setting. He should’ve known this morning when she announced that she’ll cook ‘a few Italian primi piatti’ that the ruthless perfectionist lurking inside of his girlfriend would finally make a come back on this Friday. After running around all day, going to the gym, completing her cardio challenge, baking cupcakes for her parents, finishing a work meeting, discussing a music video concept with her team and signing a few new contracts, she of course decided to hit the delicacy shop she loves out here in LA, just to buy all the ingredients she needs for a total of six different Italian dishes that she wants to make for him and her parents tonight. He knows too well by now that whenever Taylor is in this state of mind, there’s no stopping her. If she sets her mind onto something, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make her loosen up a little. Even if that would involve her actually enjoying this quiet evening with him and her family instead of standing in the kitchen for a solid two hours now, not having had a single conversation with any one of her parents yet.

“What else needs to be done? I can cut veggies? I’m good at cutting stuff.” he tries one last time, steals a carrot stick from her cutting board and starts munching. While stirring the big blue Dutch oven in front of her, she looks back at him for a second, stressed, clearly not amused that he’s eating her uncooked food.

“No, all good. I just need to make sure the risotto won’t thicken too much and once that’s done you guys can sit down and eat the carpaccio before it gets soggy because I need to take the bread out of the oven and quickly scrap together the bruschetta sauce..”

Travis just sighs deeply, takes a step closer towards her. She’s too stressed whipping up the food in front of her to even notice him trying to get closer.

“How about we just let the bruschetta be? We’ve got so much food, babe. It’s just us four. It’s also really late already.”

She shakes her head, not responding to him and he knows that if he pushes her any more now, she might actually get mad at him tonight.

“How about I start cutting some tomatoes for the bruschetta then?” he says with a sigh, finally gave into her obsession with the tomato bread. For a moment she looks up at him, a weak smile on her face. It immediately lights up his entire body.

“That would be great.” she just says, still a bit hesitant and he knows why. She’s not sure if she should be happy that he’s offering to help her, or if she should be worried about the fact that he might cut off his fingers while doing so.

“Sure.” he says, can see the washed and perfectly ripe tomatoes sitting in the drain by the sink right next to her. He grabs one of the tomatoes, holds it up in the air with a question mark on his face.

“Little cubes?”

She nods, a smile on her face.

“Thanks, Trav.” she says then, still busy stirring the risotto in front of her. She doesn’t even notice that he gets closer to her, and fast enough has stolen her cheek a gentle kiss. She giggles all surprised about his gentleness, then feels him lean in again after a second.

“You’re very welcome, crazy.”

Another kiss leaving her cheek. She just giggles, continues stirring her risotto.

_________

“Taylor, that was absolutely incredible.”

She smiles proudly at her father sitting across from her, takes one last sip from her white wine.

“Thanks so much. So glad you liked it.”

“Honey, it was delicious but you didn’t have to put in all this work just because we’re visiting.” Andrea says, her tone a bit more dunning than Scott’s was before. Taylor just rolls her eyes, a bit annoyed that everyone around her acts like she reinvented the wheel with this Italian dinner. Yes, it was some cooking time to prepare this meal, but she loves hosting and loves being a cook. Her mom should know that better than anyone.

“Tay loves spoiling our guests.” Trav says then, and Taylor looks up at the big man sitting next to her. She starts smiling. Our guests. It was a simple sentence. But it made her feel a certain way. He’s home. This has become his home, too.

“I do. Also, this is Trav’s favorite dish. So..”

“Hey, don’t put this on me now.” He says quickly, jokingly holds up his hands in an innocent gesture that makes the whole table laugh. Taylor can’t help but giggle, too. She playfully hits him in the side.

“I gained fifteen pounds since December, Scott. Fifteen pounds.” he says dramatically to both Andrea and Scott, who amusedly witness the interaction between him and Taylor.

“That’s a good sign, though.” her father laughs, especially because his daughter starts hitting the man’s upper arm some more, looking deeply shocked from him, to her mom and back at Travis again.

“Do not even start blaming me for that. Every time I have food laying around he eats it. That’s not on me.”

Andrea starts laughing, and so does Scott. Travis just rolls his eyes playing pretend, sips one last time on his wine glass before looking at the blonde woman in the black top sitting next to him, giving him a playful side eye. She looks absolutely gorgeous as always, but there’s something in her eyes that gives her away. She’s exhausted. Deeply exhausted and tired, but he knows she won’t ever admit to it.

Without countering her some more, Travis just places his wine glasses in front of him, then wanders with his right hand to her head. He starts gently caressing her hair, wandering down to her neck then, where his thumbs draw some soft and slow circles. He can see her eyes getting smaller and her smile getting softer. His touch helps her let her guard down slowly. But she’s not the only one sitting around this table smiling quietly. Both of her parents witness his gentle gesture silently, a smile on both their faces, unsure if they’ve ever seen their daughter look as loved and taken care of as she does right now.

“You had three hours of sleep last night. How are you even still upright?”

She giggles, his hand now leaving her neck and reaching for her cold left hand.

“Jetlag and being tired is a choice.”

Andrea starts laughing. She knows just as much as Travis that this is the most ridiculous saying her daughter comes up with whenever she’s urged to slow down a little.

“Mhm. Sure.” he just says laughingly, knowing damn well that there’s no arguing with her tonight. Within less than two seconds, she gets up, starts cleaning the dinner table.

“How about you start picking a movie and we do the dishes.” Andrea now takes initiative but before she can even finish her sentence, Taylor shakes her head and makes sure to grab the used plates quicker than her mother can.

“Absolutely not. Trav will go pick a movie with you guys, I’m gonna quickly clean up and feed the cats and join you then.”

“I can feed the cats, babe.” the man who just got up right next to her tries once more but she shakes her head.

“No, please pick a movie with mom and dad.” She asks him with a serious look on her face and he sighs, just shakes his head in disbelief, knowing damn well that he’s got to let her be her obsessive self tonight.

“Alright guys, what do you want to watch?”

_________

“Why is it so quiet in here…”

“Because we are waiting for you, honey.” Scott says from the living room couch, looking at Taylor who stands in the now clean and shiny kitchen preparing the bowls for her cats.

“No, just start the movie already. I’ll be there in a second.” she says, really doesn’t want them to have to wait any longer. After all, it’s past nine already now. The view onto her little backyard is pitch black, and she knows her parents are still jet lagged, too.

“Absolutely not.” Travis says from the very right couch on which he sits, giving her that look she loves so much. With the remote control in his hand, as comfortable as he can be, he smiles at her, looking right into her eyes somehow even though this massive living room is dividing them.

“You can’t miss the beginning. It’s the most important part of this movie.”

“Alright, alright, give me one second.” she says, places the bowls in front of the three impatient cats waiting for their dinner, and washes her hands with her favorite lavender soap in the big kitchen sink one last time.

“Do you guys have drinks? Do you need any snacks, or ice cream? Trav, do we still have the…”

“We have everything, honey. Now enough with all this madness. Sit down on your ass. Now!” Andrea says in a new tone, which Travis hadn’t experienced before. It makes him smile though. Suddenly, Taylor just nods, turns off the lights in the kitchen and finally, after what felt like an eternity, makes her way up to her family lounging in the living room. Travis smiles at the beauty in front of him, immediately opens his arms for her to sit down next to him.

“Come on, babe. Lay down.” he just mumbles, gets comfortable on the big couch himself, a pillow in his neck, and enjoys to feel Taylor cuddle up to him, becoming the little spoon to be able to face the big flat screen.

“Alright, are we ready?”

“Yes.” Both Scott and Andrea answer annoyed from their seats and it makes Taylor laugh. Travis hits the play button and the movie starts. His right hand securely around Taylor’s small body frame, slowly wandering onto her stomach. She places her hand on top of his, and with his head on the pillow behind him, he leans over to her once, breathing in her incredible smelling hair, and steals her neck one last kiss. She moves a bit more, trying to get comfortable, and he can feel how fast her heart beats. He knew it. She’s been running around all day, not even allowing herself a single moment of rest. She’s rattled up, and her inability to just lay still in his arms is proof enough. Sometimes, he feels like whenever she’s not playing a show she needs to run around all day to compensate for her lack of adrenaline rush. It’s not good for her though. It’s not good to be in a constant state of stress.

The movie has just started and he catches himself every so often just staring at her instead. Her silhouette in the darkness, lid up by nothing but the flickering tv light. She’s the most beautiful person he knows. Not a single ounce of badness about her. It terrifies him sometimes, how deeply he loves her. How pure his feelings really are for her. His thoughts manifest themselves once more as she starts laughing about a scene on tv and he realizes that he was way too distracted to follow the storyline until now.

A few moments later, Travis can finally feel her become more and more still in his arms. Her hand still firmly over his, her thumb drawing the ever same slow circles on the back of his hand. She’s slowly coming down from her day. And half an hour later, he knows she’s fighting sleep. Whilst both of her parents are still awake watching and enjoying the movie he chose, the blonde woman in his arms has grown unusually quiet. It takes another five minutes and he feels her spasm once. She’s fighting sleep when really, she shouldn’t. Travis slowly lets go of her stomach, moves his big hand over her cold and naked upper arm instead. Nothing but the tv light lighting up her sleepy face.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?” she answers in her half sleeping state, of course pretending to be fully awake.

“Can you reach for the blanket next to you?”

She slowly sits up, grabs the blanket and just hands it to him, too tired to fully recognize the fact that she’s freezing in her top, and that she needs the blanket more than he does. She just lays down again, her head this time getting comfortable on his upper arm. He opens up the soft blanket over her, feels Taylor finally giving in. With her eyes half closed and the same tired disoriented look on her face whenever she wakes up at night to go to the bathroom, Taylor turns around, signaling him to open his arms for her some more. She’s now fully turned away from the tv, her sleepy face facing his chest. He protectively wraps the blanket around her cold torso, feels her little hand placed on his chest over his sweater. With her wrapped in his arms, and the blanket, Travis looks down at her closing her eyes, finally allowing herself to fall asleep. He leans down to kiss her forehead once, his arm around her, stroking her back up and down.

“Sorry, I’m just..”

He doesn’t know whether her mumbles are an apology to him or her parents about the fact that she falls asleep twenty minutes into the movie. But he’s having none of it.

“Shh. I’ll tell you later what happened.” he whispers, and she doesn’t even nod. Instead, he can watch her breathing get slower and slower and steadier and steadier. It takes less than a minute and she’s fully asleep in his arms. A little sigh escapes her throat. Her toes between his legs move once. In his arms, she slowly lets go. And Travis can now face the TV again, and actually enjoy the movie knowing that the woman in his arms is finally getting some well deserved rest. But his gentleness doesn’t remain unnoticed. Both Scott and Andrea watch Taylor drift off in his big arms, his left hand securely on her head, his right one around her waist, stroking her back over the blanket up and down every so often. Not one of the two can recall a time, in which they’ve witnessed their daughter more effortlessly safe, feeling loved and able to be herself more than in this moment.