#some laurie angst for the soul

[bugsinshoes]

please don't bother trying to find her, she's not there

[goldencherriess]

Soulmates.

Masterlist || Main masterlist

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x McKinnon! Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Y/N McKinnon and Remus Lupin are the definition of soulmates. Best friends since forever, they know each other to the smallest detail. But a Wizarding War threatens to tear them apart.

Warnings: canon-compliant, major character death (oops!), angst, fluff, best friends to lovers, love confessions, soft eyes, lots of hand holding, Jily

"What's a soulmate?"

"It's, uh, well it's like a best friend but more."

Y/N McKinnon was a soft soul. Remus knew this much, from the twinkle in her eyes to the shy smile on her lips. He knew that she was quieter than her sister, Marlene, but was never afraid to voice her beliefs. He knew that she liked to read classics, burrowing them from him. She always returned them as though they hadn't even been read feverishly. And he also knew that she was a lover of jasmine tea and of stars. 

And she was also his best friend. 

“Do they end up together?” she asked one morning as she sat beside him in The Great Hall. 

Remus frowned. “Who?” he replied, putting down the still steaming cup of tea on which he was sipping. The sweet aroma of jasmine still lingered on his tongue. Her tastes were rubbing off on him.

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes as she did so and thrusting a book in front of his eyes. Curved, intricate letters spelled Little women. “Jo and Laurie.”

A crooked smile blossomed on his lips. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No,” she said, as she turned to put some toast on her plate along with a few eggs. 

Comfortable silence settled between them as Remus resumed enjoying his tea. 

“I think they should,” she eventually voiced, after biting down on a toast.

“What?”

“Jo and Laurie. I think they should end up together. They’re best friends.”

Remus’ throat tightened and it seemed as though the world stopped moving. Best friends. He told himself that he shouldn’t read too much into it, they were just discussing a piece of literature, but then Sirius’ voice popped up in his head (“You’re really thick, Moony. She fancies you!”) and he was suddenly hyper aware of his thigh touching hers, and of his elbow touching hers and he slid away a few millimeters just to breathe. “Right,” he croaked out. 

Maybe Sirius was right after all. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.”

Y/N could tell from the wrinkles in his eyebrows and the dark circles under his eyes that Remus didn’t sleep the night before. It was often that she found him in this state, staring blankly at the flames dancing in the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room. She never questioned him, she figured that if he ever felt the need to support his weight he’d come to her, letting his tears fall onto her shoulders. 

She was patient, sitting beside him on the couch and watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. She counted them, listening in to his breathing and to the crackling of the fire. 

At the tenth one, he spoke up, his voice resembling that of a broken glass. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N let her eyes roam across his side of the face. There were a few new scars slashing across the freckles. “What for?” she replied quietly. 

Remus’ shoulders slacked. He opened his mouth to reply but no word came out. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re going through something.” She let her cold hand fall against his warm one. He was always the one with the warmest hands.  “Take all the time you need, Rem. I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here. Always here.”

Remus thought at that moment that he was lucky to have her. He wanted to tell her that, but words failed him. So, he settled on giving her a kiss on her forehead. A waft of roses tickled his nostrils and he immediately recognized her shampoo. Sweet and soft. Just like her. 

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I brought you something.”

Remus chuckled, turning his hand to wrap his fingers around hers. He was pretty sure his heart would burst out of his chest anytime now. “Really?”

She hummed, getting something out from her pocket. A silver wrapper rustled in her free hand, glimmering against the orange of the flames. A saccharine smell rose and enveloped them both. Chocolate. “I know how much you love chocolate and I saw how down you looked this whole day, so I just bought some from Honeydukes.” 

Remus felt his blood rushing to the top of his head, his hands got all clammy and he feared that Y/N would figure him out. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. She bore a soft smile on her lips. “Wanna share?” he asked.

“I’d love to.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

 “It's someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself - because they inspire you.”

More than once, Y/N found that being with Remus made it all so much easier. Being with him erased the tumultuous barriers of the approaching Wizarding War. The Daily Prophet brought dark news every morning. She usually skimmed through those, before giving the newspaper to Remus, knowing he’d read it thoroughly. She’d then turn to exchange some girly gossip with Lily, Marlene and Dorcas (“Potter asked me out again,” Lily would say for the fourth time that week). Afterwards, Y/N would turn to throw a smile towards Remus, just so he could know she was still there with him. 

This time though, she gripped the newspaper until her knuckles turned white. More than three muggle attacks occurred in the past few days and she was growing anxious. Remus got ahold of the newspaper, lowering it before lightly touching her hand. “Hey, you alright?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll turn out like him?”

Remus dropped his gaze to the headline of the Daily Prophet: “He Who Must Not Be Named strikes again, dark forces on the rise.”

“No. Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she sighed, slowly letting the newspaper fall into Remus’ hand. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

The newspaper was now on the table in front of them, the headline screaming at her, black letters taking up most of the page, a moving picture with houses on fire staring at her. “I’m just afraid that one day I won't be able to recognize myself. That I will look into the mirror and see a stranger, that things beyond my power will change me.”

Remus’ voice reached her ears in the form of a soft whisper. “I’m sure that’ll never be the case, Y/N.”

She turned to look at him, eyes glossy. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiled, meeting her gaze. “Because I know you. You’re one of the kindest people I know. If you are ever to get lost, I’m sure you would find your way. And if you don’t, I’ll be there to guide you.”

Her smile mirrored his, cold hands meeting warm ones. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.”

Years passed and soon enough, Y/N received the wedding invitation of James and Lily. The redhead delivered it to her in person, insisting she had to tell her something. Marlene was off to the Ministry with some work that day, while their parents were taking the tea in the back garden. She was just putting another kettle on, intending to make jasmine tea for herself, when Lily apparated at her doorstep. A knock was heard at the door, and Y/N was pulled from her wandering thoughts. She took wide strides, passing the moving pictures on the walls of her and her sister from when they were little, and opened the door. A kind smile and a mop of red hair greeted her. 

“Lily! Hi! Come in, I was just making tea!” she said as she hurriedly hugged her. 

“Thank you,” replied Lily entering the house and taking a seat on the couch. 

“I’ll be right back! You sit here, alright?” said Y/N, just as she took off towards the kitchen. She pulled out two cups from the cupboard, intricate flowers gleaming on the porcelain. The kettle whistled and she took it off the stove, pouring the tea in each cup. The sweet aroma of jasmine enveloped her in warm embraces. “Would you like sugar or milk for your tea?” she yelled, hoping that Lilly heard her.

“Just sugar for me, please! Two cubes!”

“Coming right up!” She put two cubes in Lily’s cup and three in hers, before she turned to leave the kitchen, hands holding steaming cups. 

“How’s Marls?” Lily asked as she saw her entering the living room. 

“Oh, she’s alright. Busy with work. How’s James?” Y/N smiled as she took a seat across from her, in an old armchair. 

At that, Lily blushed and gave her the envelope she was hiding in the pockets of her dress. Y/N threw her a confused look, before opening it, sparkling paper soft against her hands.

James Potter and Lily Evans cordially invite you to their wedding

Y/N gasped, before looking up at Lily, meeting her emerald gaze. “Oh, Lily! This is amazing! Congratulations!” Her gaze slipped towards Lily’s left hand, wondering how she didn’t notice the ring sparkling there. The stone had the same colour of her eyes. Emerald. 

“I want you to be my maid of honour, Y/N,” Lily replied with eagerness, taking ahold of Y/N’s hands. “Please, will you be my maid of honour?”

“Of course I will!”

And this is how Y/N found herself giving the Maid of Honour speech in front of one hundred people (most of the guests were from James’ side, family and relatives. Lily only invited her sister, who unfortunately didn’t show up). She was growing hot under the attentive gazes of everyone, her dress starting to itch. Her eyes slipped across the crowd, until they met with honeyed ones. Remus. Her best friend. He gave her a reassuring smile. She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to say much. There isn’t really much to be said, when everyone can see how hopelessly in love they are with each other. I’m only going to say that I had the honour to see how their love blossomed, it took James six years to finally get a date with her, and another three to marry her but he did prove to be successful.” The crowd roared in laughter. Y/N’s eyes didn’t stray away from Remus. “Here’s to forever!”

The guests whooped and clinked their champagne glasses together, while Y/N got off the stage, knees buckling. Remus met her halfway, touching her arm. He was bearing a wide smile, his eyes twinkling under the low light. “That must have been the shortest Maid of Honour speech I have ever heard.”

She rolled her eyes. “How many did you actually hear?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“None. Yours was the first.”

She smirked before a slow song started to play, couples shuffling to the dance floor, champagne long forgotten. James was bowing to Lily, asking for a dance and she laughed before getting ahold of his elbow and dragging him to the dance floor. Y/N smiled at the sight before turning to look at Remus. 

He looked so achingly beautiful. His sandy hair was ruffled from the many times he ran his hands through it, honey eyes shining under the fairy lights, white shirt unbuttoned at the top and tie loosened. He was softly smiling at her and she felt herself melting. “Would you like to dance?”

She blinked before nodding. “Yeah,” she whispered, but she was pretty sure he heard her nonetheless. His warm hands touched her cold ones, guiding her towards the dance floor while walking backwards, not once taking his gaze off of her. They stopped at the edge of the dance floor, one of his hands slipping to hold her waist, the other still gently touching hers. He started leading them in a slow dance, humming under his breath. 

It must have been the champagne getting to her head, because she found herself boldly asking the question that’s been plaguing her mind for years now. “Do they end up together?”

Remus twirled her before holding her closer. “Who?”

“The best friends.”

“You mean Jo and Laurie?” he asked, remembering their conversation from a few years ago.

“No, I mean us.”

Remus’ breath was caught in his throat. His hand tightened around her waist. “Do you want us to?”

She sighed, before meeting his gaze. “I thought I made this obvious, Rem.”

He blinked in an attempt to clear his mind. “When?”

“During our school years. Everyone caught on, except you.”

He suddenly felt out of focus. The lights were blinding him and he felt his feet dancing on nothing. The only thing grounding him was Y/N. “How long?” he found himself speaking up, his voice foreign to him.

Y/N remained silent for a second in his arms. “I think it must’ve been the third year.”

Remus almost choked. “Oh, love, we could have saved so much time,” he replied, before leaning down to capture her lips with his. She was softer than he ever imagined, her signature roses shampoo reached him in waves, getting him drunk and lightheaded. There was a hint of jasmine lingering on her lips and he almost melted when she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He pulled away to catch his breath, before leaning his forehead against hers. He was still drunk on jasmine and roses. “Forever?”

She smiled against him, pecking his lips. “Forever.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It's the one person who knew you and accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did, or when no one else would.”

Dawn was just breaking through when Remus Lupin stumbled through Y/N McKinnon’s front door, blood seeping through his shirt. She was awake, thoughts and worries of The Wizarding War weighing her down. She was just putting a kettle of jasmine tea on the stove when she heard Remus’ harsh breathing and screaming of pain. She stumbled out of the kitchen, knees melting at the sight of him so disheveled. “Merlin, what happened?!” she said as she rushed to him, supporting his weight on her shoulders and guiding him to the couch. She gently lowered him on the soft pillows. 

He breathed in through his nose, wincing when his back made contact with the pillows. 

“Stay right here, I’ll bring some water and a towel to clean those wounds for you, alright?”

He nodded in response but she was long gone. He let his eyes wander through the living room, gaze catching sight of several moving childhood pictures of Y/N and Marlene. There was one in which little Y/N was biting down on little Marlene’s golden hair. The sloshing of water and the rapid steps of Y/N brought his attention back to her. She knelt beside the couch, unbuttoning his crimson shirt and wetting the towel into the bucket of water. Her hands were shaking. She was trying to hide it, but Remus still saw. “This is gonna sting,” she mumbled, a tremor in her voice. 

The wet and cold towel touched his slashing wounds on his chest and Remus felt as though a thousand needles pierced his skin. He hissed through his teeth. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” said Y/N worriedly. “How did this even happen?”

He shyly met her gaze. “It was a full moon last night.”

Remus expected her to react differently, to widen her eyes and back away from him, to kick him out of her house, to break up with him. Instead, her eyes saddened considerably, casting down to the wounds. “Oh.”

He was surprised he found the courage to speak up. “Do you– do you think less of me now?”

She raised her head in a whiplash, eyes wide. “Why would I? You’re still my Rem, are you not?”

Remus’ lips parted and he stared at her, taking in her wild hair and noticing her tired eyes. Somehow, she still looked beautiful. “I love you,” he blurted out. “I love you, Y/N.”

She released a breath, leaning down towards him. Her lips met his in a short lived kiss. “I love you,” she replied just above a whisper. “I always will.”

The smell of jasmine traveled all the way from the kitchen to the living room, embracing them both in a sweet blanket of aroma. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“ And no matter what happens, you will always love them. Nothing can ever change that.”

The Order of the Phoenix was meeting for the third time that month. Remus bore a skipping in his steps, despite the weight on his shoulders.  He would see Y/N again after a whole two weeks of not seeing each other. He left for a mission, while she remained in London, a promise held between them. He apparated at the Order’s Headquarters, before knocking on the door. 

“Password?” Alastor Moody's voice came through.

“Lemon sorbet.” Albus Dumbledore was in charge of the passwords.

The door was opened for him and he greeted Moody with a smile. The man just acknowledged him with a nod of his head. “Come on in. The rest are inside.”

Remus advanced through the dark, dingy house before entering the rather poorly furnished living room. His smile weakened at the heavy atmosphere in the room. Everyone looked sullen at best. His gaze searched for Y/N but he didn’t find her.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, a worry starting to seep into his voice. 

“You haven’t heard?” a glossy eyed Lily asked him.  

“Hear what? And where’s Marlene? I don’t see her either.”

“The McKinnons are gone, Moony,” James spoke up, coming near him.

Remus awkwardly laughed. “Gone where? They stayed in London, didn’t they?”

“They’re dead, mate,” a tired Sirius said. “Voldemort got to them.”

Remus felt as though someone stole the earth from under his feet. The room was darkening around him, spinning in circles. His chest tightened and his vision stung and clouded. “No, that can’t be. Just two weeks ago, they were here. I talked to Y/N, she promised we’d get a house somewhere in the countryside and I promised her I’d buy her a proper ring and we’d–” his voice left him. “And Marlene too?”

No one answered him. It was understood. 

He fell into a dusty armchair and cried. He let the darkness cloud his mind. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1995

Harry Potter was following his godfather in an abandoned waiting room at the station. “Sirius, what are you doing here?! If somebody sees you–”

Sirius turned to look at Harry. “I had to see you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want to see you get shut in Azkaban,” Harry replied, taking a seat beside him on an old, tattered bench. 

Sirius waved him off. “Oh, don’t worry about me.” He reached into the pocket of his old coat, which reeked of naphthalene. “Anyway, I wanted you to have this.” He handed him a yellowed photo. Familiar faces smiled up to him. Harry took it in his hands and studied it, recognizing his parents. “The original Order of the Phoenix,” Sirius went on explaining. He pointed to a blonde in the corner of the photo. “Marlene McKinnon. She was killed two weeks after this was taken. Voldemort wiped out her entire family. That’s her sister right there, Y/N.”  Harry’s eyes took notice of a petite woman, holding onto Remus’ hand and smiling up to him, before turning towards the camera. Remus leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead before posing for the camera. 

“Did Remus know her?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. 

He heard Sirius sigh beside him. “Oh, yes. They were the best of friends. Soulmates. It broke him the day she died.”

Harry’s gaze slipped towards a couple in which he saw too much of his housemate and herbology enthusiast friend. “Neville’s parents,” he acknowledged. 

“They suffered a fate worse than death, if you ask me,” replied Sirius. He then smiled sadly, looking at the photograph image of Lily and James Potter. “It’s been fourteen years and still a day doesn’t go by when I don’t miss your dad.”

Harry regarded the photo a few more moments, a pang in his heart at the sight of his parents happily together and still alive. “Do you really think there’s going to be a war, Sirius?”

His godfather pondered the question, before replying slowly. “It feels like it did before.”

The raven haired boy went to give him back the photo, but Sirius beat him to it. “You keep it! Anyway, I suppose you’re the young ones, now.”

Harry smiled, looking down once more at the forgotten faces of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix, his eyes again catching the sight of a red faced Y/N and a smiling Remus, before putting the photograph in his pockets. The Hogwarts Express was announcing its departure.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading! Just for reference, the soulmate quote isn't mine, it's from a TV show called Dawson's Creek, which I found interesting and sweet so I kinda built this fic around it.

The last scene of this fic used for inspiration is from the fifth Harry Potter movie, even though Alastor Moody is the one who shows Harry the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix, not Sirius, but it was more accessible to me this way because I haven't reread the books in a long time.

Let me know your thoughts! Every kind of feedback is highly appreciated!

Also, if you'd like to be added to my tag list, just comment under this post or send me an ask! Lots of love xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

[feyofmay]

The Righthand Man

Laurie x March!Reader Summary: Assisting in making the costumes for Jo's upcoming show, Y/N, who is love with Laurie, is forced to spend time with Laurie, who is in love with Jo. Angst ensues. word count: 2.8k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, angst, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3.

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

A trickle of syrupy scarlet begins to pool and form a bubble on the tip of the young girl’s finger. However, the sight of blood does not squeeze even a squeal out of her. Rather, all she does is sigh and place the finger between her lips. Between her lips, a row of pins rest beside her finger like a line of spiked fences, a warning to wandering souls. With her free hand, she guides the loose fabric to curl around her waist. 

“I must be the prettiest. I am the princess,” her younger sister declares like true royalty as she remains still under the middle March’s touch. Humming in agreement, she pulls her finger from her lips and leads the needle down a familiar trail. Although the house is always a little bit of a mess, in the most recent days it has grown into a beast of its own. Pieces of fabric are strung about everywhere, and loose pages of noted and edited scripts cover the floor as a gray and white layer of snow in autumn. A sheen of dust and the stink of old paper and musty fabric smothers in the autumn air. Without a knock, a boy enters, carrying the autumn breeze on the edges of his footsteps. Lost in her work, the middle March doesn’t pay any mind to anything outside of the glimmer of her needle as she works to avoid the wrath of her younger sister. If the needle is to even brush against her skin, the younger March will inform the whole neighborhood of the atrocity her sister has committed. Adorning a heather gray wool skirt, of which some other sisters have surely worn in seasons past, her heather purple bolero pinches around her collar and floats over her white collar shirt and black bodice. 

“I’m sure you will-” She begins, speaking around the pins in her mouth.

“Ducky, how’s the costume coming along?”

“- be. Just don’t paint the fabric without asking me first again,” Ducky continues while their older sister speaks around her. Like a knight in battle, the eldest of the three forces through the chaos of their home.

“Jo, you better have removed the part where I have to kiss a toad!” the youngest of the present sisters yells out to Jo. Ducky places her palm against the youngest’s stomach as a way to calm her and tell her to refrain from moving.

“Amy, you have to stay still, or I’ll poke you,” Ducky reminds her before returning to sewing the draping robin blue fabric. All of their conversation overlaps and forms a symphony of dissonant harmonies.

“I’m nearly finished with Amy’s, and all I have of Meg’s is final fittings, she’s putting hers on right now -” Ducky begins as she begins looping the thread into itself, forming a knot. 

“Perfect, we’re just behind schedule!” Jo continues her own tangent while she stations herself besides Ducky and begins to digest Amy's appearance.

“- and then all I have left is to make your jacket, and figure out Laurie’s ensemble, and I’m unsure what you want for me, regarding ‘my part’ in the show, itself,” Ducky trails off as she picks up her scissors and frees her needle from the taut thread caught in the knot of Amy’s dress. A heap of  tulle the color of a robin’s egg and a mellow baby blue silk cascade from underneath her beaded white bodice like a waterfall. Hours and hours have been spent on beading the bodice, alone, and, with sweat, time, and a minimal amount of blood, the middle March has managed to piece together the costumes for Jo’s newest and best show. 

“You’re going to be the wise old witch who lives in the forest -” Jo starts to fall into her tangent as she waves her hands. In her right hand, the newest version of her script resides.

“I’m only acting because Marmee’s done getting involved in your shows,” Ducky confirms.

“- Well, yes, but that doesn’t make your role any less important,” Jo reminds her as Ducky rises to her feet and brushes off her skirt. Blood rushes into her legs and feeling finally slips back into her feet after sitting for hours on the rickety wooden stool. As the teen boy discards his jacket, Jo is alerted of his presence and her attention shoots over to him. Rushing over to him, her arms shoot out to greet him. 

“Teddy!” Jo shouts when she’s engulfed in a hug. The two prattle on in a quick back and forth of banter and quips, and Amy waddles off to the mirror so she can properly admire herself. Leaving Ducky all by her lonesome, she sets down the pins between her lips and straightens up her makeshift sewing station. As she collects the spools of thread that had attempted to escape the nest of odd bobbins and spools of an assortment of colors of thread, she can't prevent her eyes from glancing over at the teen boy who’s attempting to swallow Jo in a hug. While she’s too young to wade deeper into her own emotions, she’s perturbed by the small pest named Envy that nips at the walls of heart. She’s not mad, not angry at either her sister or the boy, but she wants to be hugged like that. She wants to be seen & touched with the same feeling of “I feel you, and, therefore, I know you”. For a brief moment, the stories of far fetched courtship and romance are a faint taste on the tip of her tongue, real and tangy. Seeing her younger sister and being old enough to swim in the depths of her own feelings, the eldest March strolls over as a wreath of wisdom hangs around her head. With a knowing gaze and sturdy smile, she bends down so her lips are the same height as Ducky’s ear.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” she whispers to her younger sister as her words bubble up into a giggle. Ducky’s head shoots around to look at her older sister. A similar shade of red to the wound on her finger soaks into her entire face. Her nails dig into her palms, and her chest shutters from the pounding of her heart.

“Shut it, Meg!” she mutters out while gathering the last bobbins and placing them back into the small heap of thread. Laughing over the embarrassment of a young lover, Meg presses a hand against Ducky’s shoulder before gliding over to assist in admiring Amy’s dress by the mirror.

“Ducky, what have you planned for the right hand man to the hero, the protagonist, of my tale?” Jo enthuses as she rushes over to the younger sister’s station. Scooping up a pile of concepts and measurements all messily scrawled across different sheets of paper in looping, unfocused handwriting, the middle March digs through the loose scraps of paper until pulling out several ideas all scribbled on with a stick of graphite and colored pencils. Jo leans over to peer at the drawn figures, and the teen boy mirrors her movements. Sketched onto the paper in coagulating shapes, a drawing of a man clad in a puffy nectarine orange jacket in gold trim and forest green waistcoat dawns the garments over a pair of orange slacks in a matching shade and white high collar shirt with a forest green and orange striped cravat. 

“Perhaps the costume will make up for the fact that you can’t act,” Jo quips out as the two gaze at the young girl’s sketches. Teddy whips his head around to glare at the elder sister as she begins to leap away. Never does Jo simply “walk”, rather, her spirits carry the heels of her weathered leather boots just an inch above the physical Earth. To Ducky, Jo is beyond what any human can promise to be. After all, no mere human of flesh and blood could survive carrying the weight of tenacity and creativity like her sister does. Jo flings her body around and contorts it like a hanging rag left to dry in the wind, and the taupe skirt of her dress wrings her as she flips around to face Teddy.

“You wound me so,” he replies with a filling smile. Jo’s hand flies up to smack Teddy’s forearm. 

“Good, make use of that anguish in scene fourteen,” Jo quickly snips back as she starts to float away with the spirit of genius, her true paramore, “Now, stand here and do whatever Ducky tells you to do without any complaint.”

“What if she stabs me?” Laurie whines while he finds his place where Amy had recently stood before him. 

“I don’t want to hear any of it! You most likely deserve it, anyways,” Jo declares before rushing away to join her two other sisters by the mirror. A squeal of delight leaves Amy’s lips as she scampers away, chasing a distant thought that rattles around in her head.

“I’ll paint my shoes to match!” Amy giggles as she rushes off, leaving the two other sisters to follow her in quick pursuit. With a small smile, Ducky attempts to silently apologize for her sisters’ behaviors.

“Never a dull moment, eh?” Teddy eases her with a knowing glance, and she shares the look while flipping to a blank page in her notepad. Grabbing her measuring tape from around her neck, the middle March brushes back a few strands of hair that had escaped from her makeshift updo, kept together only by a single piece of loose, pale pink ribbon. Lightly gripping his forearms, her fingers sink into the billowing fabric of his watery gray shirt. 

“I’ll need to take your measurements. If I touch you in any way that’s discomforting, let me know,” she explains to him as she guides his arms up to extend out like a child’s when they’re pretending to be an airplane. The tips of his fingers brush against the fading cream and pink flowers that orner the sage green background of the wallpaper that, over the past years, has been dented and scraped from calloused yet tender fingers of youth. Nodding in reply, he stands stalk still as she wraps the measuring tape around his arm before jotting down the measurements in her small notebook. 

“Jo told me that you're some sort of expert seamstress,” Laurie informs her, speaking to try and swallow the silence that the two of them are sinking in. As the tips of her fingers brush against his, a pursed smile tucks itself into her lips. 

“I’m nothing close to that, but I do sew,” Ducky corrects him while she slips the tape around his neck, continuing her work. 

“Is that your big dream? Jo will be a writer, Meg will act, Amy will paint and Beth plays, and you’ll sew?” he asks with a sense of genuine inquisitiveness, tilting his head back as she leans in to better see the faded numbers, leaving about a hand’s width of space between his face and hers. However, as she’s consumed by her work, she isn’t sent awry by the lack of distance between the two. Whispering the measurement to herself, she ushers back to her notepad and copies down the digits, pausing from the conversation to focus on her craft. 

“No, no, that’s Jo’s dream for me,” she admits while shuffling to loop the tape around his bust. 

“Well then, what will you be?” Laurie continues as he raises his hands above his head to allow Ducky to reach around him comfortably. She pauses for a moment, both engulfed in her work and unsure how to answer his question. Tendrils of sunlight begin poking through the window as the sky starts to fade to a rusty hue. 

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins as she turns to copy more digits before adjusting the tape to next measure his hips, “Far. Free, not depending on any man to live how I want to.” Listing off her floating aspirations, Teddy gazes down and watches her precise fingers whisper a secret against the rippling powder blue, silk fabric of his waistcoat.

“What about you? What’s your dream?” she swings the question back to him, and he’s slightly taken aback by her forwardness. Often entranced by Jo and her wild acclaims of the future, he’s yet to think about what it is that he wants. Pursing his lips, the boy considers several archived visions of an ideal future that he’s contemplated in the past. 

“Well, I want to marry a woman. I want to spend my days free from tutoring, content to do whatever I please whenever I’d please. Maybe I’d settle down and put my musical talents to some use, as they’re the only talents my grandfather thinks has worth,” Teddy admits, and, as he discusses his aspirations for his future, a dull ache washes over Ducky, and she’s faced with an answer that’s unfamiliar to her. When her sisters are faced with the question “what do you dream?” every single one of them has a secret truth that is inlaid in the very foundation of their mind. They dream of safety. Of a home that is good enough, and a husband that is kind enough. Of a life that is fulfilling enough. They dream of the brink of enough, of simply a little more than bearable. A man can dream of happiness, but a woman only hopes for enough. Only has Jo honestly strayed from this path, as even Amy, with age, begins to share the three other March’s mindset. Jo continues to strive for greatness, and Ducky can do nothing but admire her for it.

“I sincerely pray for a safe and speedy recovery to any woman who falls for your ‘charms’,” Ducky retorts, and, for a second, her own tone reminds her greatly of Meg. The eldest sister always spoke with a sense of grace and intellect that Ducky found surreal. How could one speak like a bubbling brook flows? For a moment, as the words dribble out from her lips, Ducky is filled with the same rush of ease that she often feels when Meg is teasing Jo. As if called on by a greater divinity, just as Ducky finishes her measurements, Jo and Meg rush back over, with Meg sporting a new, oily black mustache painted onto her face. 

“Teddy, come quickly,” Jo commands to her companion, snatching his arm and dragging him along before he has time to digest her words. There’s no goodbye or reply as he follows behind Jo like a puppy on her heel. As he’s hurried away, Ducky’s eyes linger on his stumbling frame as the timid smile from her lips falls. The middle March begins to curl into herself as the eldest ushers across the dining, over to her sister. Meg rests her cheek against the side of Ducky’s head as, with her embrace, she shields Ducky from the world’s eye. 

“Ducky, tell me plainly and you mustn't lie. Do you fancy him, Teddy?” she asks her younger sister, but both of them already know the answer without speaking. Closing her notepad, Ducky doesn’t even glance up at her sister as she presses her weight into her older sister’s frame. The younger March curls up into her sister’s embrace and folds herself into the young girl that used to hide in Meg’s nightgowns as shrieking thunderstorms raged through the night.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. He’s already in love with Jo,” she mutters into her sister’s chest as she wallows and wades in her own misery. Of course he loves Jo, who couldn’t fall in love with Jo? When she’s basking in the light of her own flowing talent and erudition, everyone falls in love with her. Jo is everything every mother never wants her daughter to be, and, in that right, she is what every mother prays her daughter becomes. She has never changed and, yet, is constantly born anew with each day. Never a lady, but yet an adult, wise yet naive to the weight of the world, everybody is in love with Jo, and this love holds no romantic intention. Rather, it is a deep well of devotion to a person that fills a lover’s stomach and renders one completely whole. To love someone entirely is to find peace within yourself and be content with one’s nature when in the presence of the one you love. So, in this manner, Ducky is entirely in love with Jo.

“It matters a great deal to me how you feel,” her older sister reminds her while strands of Ducky’s hair begin to curl around and hug Meg’s finger, “I’ll always want to hear about your feelings, no matter how large or pointless they may seem.” Silently, the two of them bask in each other’s embrace, and, without a word, Ducky knows her older sister understands her emotions inside & out. In her arms, she feels protected from everything, come snow or hail. In her arms, she is safe to be a young, scared girl.

Please comment & repost, & check out the whole fic :)). If you want me to add u to a taglist, lmk, & please send any laurie x reader drabble/fic requests my way!! I'd love to hear y'alls ideas! Have a lovely rest of your day, friends! <3

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cautious/Brave ~ Andy Barber

Summary: After the events surrounding Jacob's murder trial and the car accident, Andy finds himself lost as he grieves next to Jacob's bedside. Coming to terms with everything he has lost, waiting for Jacob to wake up, he finds solace with the one person in charge of Jacob's care. A sweet nurse who cares not just for her patients, but their families as well...

Word Count: 1.9K

Song: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCarthy (performed by Boyce Avenue)

Warnings: spoilers for the end of Defending Jacob; angst; fluff

Part One of Two

Main Masterlist

Cautious Part one

TWO MONTHS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

Andy Barber walked into the hospital room, a defeated look on his face, a manila envelope in his hand. He stopped just inside the doorway, taking in the image of his son. Jacob was still comatose, hooked up to machines to help him breathe and keep his systems going. He sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. He missed Jacob's smile, his humor, his laugh.

Laurie couldn't deal with what she had done. She left after spending a couple of weeks in the hospital. The divorce papers were delivered this morning. Andy couldn't bring himself to open them yet. He moved over to the side of Jacob's bed and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Hi buddy." He sat in his usual chair, talking to his only child, willing him to wake up.

You were Jacob's nurse. You came in every day, checking his vitals, changing the IV bags, making sure that he was comfortable. You walked into Jacob's room, distracted by a page you were getting that you missed his dad sitting with him. "Oh, Mr. Barber, I'm sorry. I'll come back."

"No, YN, its ok. I'm early. Please do what you need to do. How is he doing today?"

You checked Jacob's vitals. "He's holding steady." You looked into Andy's sad blue eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have better news."

"It's ok, YN. Thank you for taking care of him."

"It's my pleasure. I try to visit when I have time. I've been reading him this." You hold up your book.

"The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Interesting."

"My niece recommended it. She knew Jacob from school." You chew your bottom lip, nervous about your admission.

"Oh." He looked down. "Tell her thank you."

"I will." You got another page. "I'll be back. See you later Mr. Barber."

"Andy. Call me Andy."

"Ok. Andy." You smiled at him and he smiled back, the first time you had ever seen him smile. It beautiful. You walk out of the room still smiling.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

You are making your rounds on your patients. You hum along with a song in your head and head into Jacob's room. You look to see if Andy is there but he isn't. Slightly disappointed, you check on Jacob, changing out his IV and making sure that he is stable.  You had become friends with Andy, talking every day, getting to know one another. You got to know the real Andy not the one the media likes to portray.

"I brought you a coffee," a voice behind you says, startling you. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Its ok Andy. I was just focused on this IV bag connection. Thank you," you took the coffee from his hand. "How was the case today?"

"Pretty easy. Cops mishandled the evidence and my client walked. Joanna was right, I am kinda good at this." Andy smiled. He had taken a job with Joanna Klein's firm instead of going back to the district attorney's office. He helped those he could, hoping for redemption to bring back his son.

"That's great Andy. I'm proud of you." And you are, really. Andy was a good man dealt a horrible hand.

"How was today?" He asked as he sat next to Jacob.

"The physical therapist was here, moving him around so he doesn't get stiff. I think the doctor wanted to talk to you about some of the test results. He should be here in a few minutes." You update the chart.

"Thanks, YN. Reading anything new?"

"We moved on to Harry Potter. I wanted a comfort read."

"Good choice. You can't go wrong with Harry Potter." He sipped his coffee with a smile. "Do you think he can hear us?"

"I like to think so. I like to keep that positive thought." You smile at Jacob. "He looks like a good kid."

"He is the best. He was always positive. Even during everything." You could see a tear forming in Andy's eye. You grabbed a tissue box and handed it to him. "Thanks."

"You know, it's not just the patients we care for on this floor. We care for the family as well. If you need to talk, just let me know." You patted his hand. He grabbed it and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. "You are the sweetest. Thank you."

You blushed and had just moved away when the doctors came in. "Hi Andy. We got some updates."

"I'll just step out," you say, walking quickly out but glancing back at Andy, who smiled.

You make it back to the nurse's station and your friend Renee notices your flushed cheeks. "You ok YN?"

"Yeah, just had moment is all." You grabbed the next chart you needed to work on.

"Nothing to do with the handsome worried father in there would it?" Renee said with a twinkle in her eye. You didn't answer, your blush answered for you.

"I got another patient," and you walked away.

FOUR MONTHS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

"You've never been outside of Massachusetts?"

"I've never had a chance. Went from school to school to become the nurse you see today." You smile at Andy. "I've been a busy girl."

"I see that. But if you could, where would you go?"

"First thought, New York. I really want to see a musical or something. Then London."

"Ah, a romantic. I like it," he says with a chuckle.

"A hidden one but yes. My minor in school was English lit. I love to read, obviously but I always wanted to visit the places my heroes were. But the call to help was greater." You leaned against the door frame, enjoying your time with Andy.

"That's sweet." Andy swallowed, unsure if he could say what he wanted to ask. "YN, you never talk about your home life."

"Oh." The statement took you by surprise. "Well, I live alone with my dog, Punkie."

"Punkie? Like the TV Show?"

You blush, "yeah. It was one of my favorites."

Andy throws his head back laughing, his hand on his chest. You huff slightly, annoyed at his laughter. He sees your face and calms down. "Sorry, sweetheart. Its just, you look a little young to have seen Punkie Brewster."

"I watched the re-runs." You finished updating the chart and started to walk out, your feelings hurt. You felt a hand on your arm.

"I'm sorry YN. I didn't mean to insult you or anything." Andy's eyes pleaded with you not to be mad.

"Its ok Andy. I should go." You left the room. You walked pass the station, needing a moment to yourself. You didn't know why Andy's comment hurt you. Yes, you were younger than he was but that didn't mean you were immature. You wiped your face and took a couple of breaths before walking back to the nurse's station.

Renee never missed a beat. "You alright YN?"

"I'm fine Renee. Reality just hit me hard right now."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Just realizing that maybe having a crush is a bad idea." You look at the next chart. "Especially since it's against hospital policy."

"Oh, honey. Andy, right?"

"God Renee I'm so stupid. He sees me as the young kid nurse. And I just realized that I like to spend time with him, but he doesn't see me as anything more." You sigh. "I'm just setting myself up for heartbreak."

"You never know, sweetie." Renee sympathized. "Sometimes you can't help it when you spend so much time with someone."

"Thanks Renee." You walked away to your next patient. You hadn't seen Andy standing close by, having heard everything you said.

He went back into Jacob's room and sat down. Did he think of you as just the nurse? Maybe at the beginning when he had to deal with the divorce. He hadn't told anyone that Laurie relinquished her parental rights and left everything to Andy. It was a comfort to have you talk to him about anything other than real life. He liked getting to know you. He loved that you cared about Jacob so much. He hadn't meant anything by his comment. Now, he didn't know if everything was going to change.

FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

You walked into Jacob's room and found Andy asleep in the chair. He had been throwing himself into work since you started to pull away. You didn't want to have your heart broken over a stupid crush. But the sight of him, legs propped up on the edge of Jacob's bed, arms crossed as he slept tugged at your heart. You grabbed a blanket and carefully covered him, protecting him from the cold air that the air conditioning pushed.

You went to check on Jacob. While you worked, you whispered to Jacob, "I wish I knew you. You seem sweet. But you keep fighting. I'll be here every step of the way."

Andy woke up as you were talking to Jacob. Even if things were off between the two of you, you still cared for his son. He watched as you brushed the hair from Jacob's face, almost motherly. You kissed Jacob's forehead and headed out quietly.

Andy realized that he started to fall for the sweet nurse who loved his son.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

You arrived at the nurse's station for your shift. It was early in the morning, and you yawned as you gathered your charts.

"This is for you."

You turned to see Andy with a cup of coffee.

"Thanks Andy. You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. Do you think you have a moment to talk?"

"Sure, of course." You headed into Jacob's room for some privacy. "What's up?"

"I don't like what happened to us. We were getting close and then you pulled away. I know I upset you when I laughed but I don't understand why you pulled away."

"Andy, I..."

"Look, I know that its probably against some ethical thing but can I take you to lunch?" His eyes were hopeful.

"Andy, if I could, I would. But why? I'm just your son's nurse."

"YN, you are so much more than that. You care about Jacob. I know you talk to him, not just read. I saw you that day, caring for him. You put the blanket on me."

"I care for my patients and their families." You look down, not wanting to admit the feelings that were still there and growing for Andy.

"YN, sweetheart." He put his finger on your chin and gently lifted you head. "You're not alone. I feel something for you too."

"I can't Andy. I could lose my job." A single tear fell. "I'm sorry." You started to turn away.

"Please don't go. YN, please."

"What am I supposed to do Andy?"

"Just tell me I'm not alone in this. Please?"

You looked into his blue eyes. You could see the hope in them, the longing for the answer he knew was there. "You're not alone," you whispered. You pulled yourself away from him and went back to the nurse's station. You tried to calm yourself but nothing worked. Renee saw your face and pulled you aside.

"Honey? What happened?"

"He likes me too. But I can't. The hospital would fire me."

"Oh, sweetie." She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry. You felt your heart break into a million pieces.

Brave - Part 2

[helpwhatsthis]

remember pt.2- e.m./001

after lots of requests and a month-long account glitch, here’s part two! 

part one! 

summary: your nightmares become real when you finally see henry again.

warnings: dark fic, vampire eddie, violence, eddies death but not really, henry is an asshole?, asphyxiation, gore, angst, body horror, horror themes, language, demogorgans, detailed descriptions of pain, not much s4 plot i think, allusion to mind manipulation, vines

let me know if you think i missed anything! 

the first thing you recognize as you come to is the pounding in your skull. the pain is not unfamiliar to you, but this time it’s different. this time, it’s from blunt force; not the manipulation of your psyche. 

the second is the pain on your wrists, ankles, and neck. something is pressing, squeezing, holding you. 

the third, and maybe most horrifying, is that everything feels cold. so fucking cold. and wet. the realization sends you into a panic. “eddie?” you try to cry out on instinct, but the thing wrapped around your throat squeezes tighter. you wonder momentarily if the darkness around you is from your location, or the lack of oxygen to your brain. 

“baby?” a choked, wet sputter causes you to clamp your eyes shut, memories playing behind your eyelids like some sick horror movie. is this how cheryl felt, when the tree limbs started to attack her before her possession? or laurie, when michael was breaking into the closet to get her?  no, this is worse, because it was real. you had been losing him, right before your very own eyes. 

the pain of the claws digging into your scalp goes nearly unfelt as the monster’s face opens up, unleashing a terrible cry and holding your head in place. it’s making you watch-

it’s making you watch as those things swarm your lover, ripping him apart. you know you’re screaming, begging it to stop. it goes unheard over the sounds of skin ripping and eddie’s ear splitting, heart retching, nauseating screeches. 

“don’t torment yourself, my dove.” vecna’s- henry’s- deep growl pulls your eyes open. he’s standing above you, the limbs of dead trees and blue-red hues of the sky creating a beautifully sinister backdrop to his figure. “he’s alive, that’s all that matters.” his malformed hands come to move your hair from your face. 

“please-” you gasp, though you’re not quite sure what you’re pleading for. to see him? to leave this place? for the restoration of your ability to take in oxygen? 

for this nightmare to be over, you decide. 

the pressure on your windpipe lets up minutely, and you greedily suck the tainted air into your lungs. your chest rattles with the force of it, but he smiles. 

“i do hope you appreciate the changes i’ve made to him.” he grates, grabbing your shoulders as softly as his taloned hands are capable, and lifting you to sit up. 

the sight causes you to let out a harsh sob. the things, your bindings, which you now realize are vines, tighten around your bruised skin. eddie is being held up against a tree by them, but his body is sagging. he looks sick, weak, and oh so pale. the image of the monstrously delicate wings trailing from his back is almost enough to distract you from the mahogany irises piercing into your soul. 

“what did you do to him?” you practically scream. you try to crawl to him, and shockingly, henry lets you. trembling legs carry you to him, protesting when you begin to stand. you ignore the ache, cupping eddie’s jaw and pressing your forehead to his. “my love, what did he do to you?” you cry, thumbs stroking away the tears from his icy skin. he doesn’t speak, simply pushing his head harder toward you. 

“simple changes, little one.” henry grits, hand resting on you shoulder. “think of them as adaptations, to accommodate your new home.” eddie whimpers at his words, more tears running onto your hand. 

“i’m a monster.” he sobs, casting his eyes to the ground. 

“no, eds. no, you’re still my beautiful boy.” you breath, tucking a strand of blood caked hair behind his ear. he shudders at your touch but nuzzles into it all the same. 

“i’m glad you think so, y/n. he’s in desperate need of feeding.” henry growls. before you can begin to consider the implication of his words, a claw runs over your chest. a scream rips from your lungs as you begin to wringle in his arms. blood runs beneath your shirt, and a deep groan from eddie forces your gaze back up. his eyes are suddenly alert, both with fear and hunger. 

“oh god-” you gasp, the vines holding eddies straining limbs beginning to loosen. 

“run.” eddie begs, the sound of breaking bone filling your ears as new, sharper, far more dangerous canines force the old ones from his gums. you don’t hesitate, ripping yourself from henry’s arms and taking off into a sprint. 

your combat boots slap the ground, carrying you as fast as you can muster. “you can’t outrun him, darling!” you hear the false voice, the way henry sounded before, call from behind you. 

you don’t get far before eddie’s chest is knocking into your back, forcing you to the ground once again. “no! eds, please!” you scream. he grips your hair hard, knuckles leaving new bruises on your scalp. 

“i’m so sorry.” he whines, other hand griping your jaw and forcing your neck to an agonizing angle. your shriek echoes through the desolate, decaying version of your home as the full extent of his teeth rip through the soft and bruised skin of your jugular. 

the fingers on your skull trail down, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles on your spine. it’s so painful but it’s still eddie, causing you to go slack in his arms. you’ll let eddie takes anything he wants from you. your heart, your love, your body, and now your blood. 

the pain seems to lessen the blurrier your vision becomes, but you can still see when henry kneels before you. your mind flashes back to that night, when you’d first realized he was trying to reach you through your nightmares and sent you running to eddies safe arms. now he’d made eddie into one of them. you don’t want to wake up though, because if this is how you have to keep him holding you, you’ll do it. your eyes start to droop in lethargy. 

tags: @katlovesall @gothicmitsuri @vanthrefrigeration @comfortlibrary @reblog-potato 

“sleep, little one. i won’t let him take more than you can give. when you wake, we’ll still be here.” 

(some of you didn’t ask, so i hope you don’t mind the tagging! sorry!)

[sweetminx]

Chapter 8 of GOH. All chapters currently released and up to date on my AO3! 🥰

Thank you again for your continued love and support and I hope you enjoy the chapter and all others to come! If you didn't catch it before, I painted a portrait of our lovely Michael without that pesky mask to hide his sweet face. Go check that out if you haven't already, it's the 📌 post at the top.

Michael's headed for the one place that calls to him, but not before he decicdes to make a quick stop along the way for something that we all know he loves to use on his victims and some unfortunate soul will pay for such a visit.

Taglist: @megafrost4 @dead-bxtch @sugarstarxoxo @ireallyhateithere2 @necas7325 @michaels-orange-mask @vapurrrrwave @myers-meadow @goosecadet @liv-victoriano @mz-bats @myersobsessed @chaotic-am @utena-akashiya @macabrecakes @eldaryan Ask to be added to the taglist 💜

Universe/Fandom: Halloween 1978 (Non-RZ)   Rating: Mature/Adult. Minors keep your distance. Chapters: 8/?                                   Chapter Triggers/Warnings: Strong language, Strong depictions of violence/gore, angst, knifeplay, blood-play/consumption, masochism/sadism, marking, possessive behaviour. Overall themes: Tension, Drama, Slow burn, Abuse, Strong Language, Past trauma, Manipulation, Strong depictions of Violence/Gore, Phsycological/ Physical trauma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mental Illness, Murder, Romance, Angst, Loss, Death, Comfort, Mild humour, Romance, Friendship, Fluff, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, mild Non-con themes, Knifeplay, Stalking, Marking, Obsessive/Posessive behaviour, Choking, Explicit Sexual content.    Reader details: Female, first-person perspective.   Characters: Female reader, Michael Myers (Non-RZ), Samuel Loomis, Laurie Strode, Jed Perkins  (Non-canon OC), Jamie Harris (Non-canon OC), Parker Reed (Non-canon OC), Josh Hewit (Non-canon OC), Erin White (Non-canon OC)

Ghost of Haddonfield: Chapter eight

Night has fallen. The streets are quiet and empty, lit by the subtle white-orange glow of street lamps steadily growing brighter the darker the velvety black sky turns, dusted with bright glimmering white stars. Although, it's just a typical night for Michael Myers. There's one thing on his mind and he's headed straight for it, one single place, and he's known its comfort his entire life even from the solidarity of a small yet clean white cell. To him, it's home. To everyone else, it's just a rundown and abandoned old house now that once held a lively and bustling young family, cut short by the twisted mind of a sick young boy. It's the place where he ended his sister's life, the place he would forever become known as Haddonfield's most infamous psychopath. 

Legends would say the heart of such beings died in their chest cavities long ago, that they putrefied and made a heavy slime about their lungs as thick as underworld tar. That's how they became killers and perhaps why. Some say their emptiness is their madness, that they take life over and over as if they may possess the hearts and souls, yet never so, and to be healed someone pure has to love each of them, to reform their heart as if it was the finest of clay, then set it to beating with pure nature's essence. So until they find such a being to forgive all that they have done and all that they might do, to break the universal scales and set them free to begin anew, the killing goes on and on and on. True evil has no mortality though, no weakness. It has no feeling, no emotion, no limit and no shame. Nobody knows what fuels it though, just as Loomis could not understand nor explain what sick pleasure Michael derived from such savage and uncontrolled bloodlust. 

Samuel Loomis. He remembers that name and face so vividly. How could he forget? He spent years assessing and observing him, listening with deaf ears and a gaze as dead and emotionless as one could remain in the presence of an obsessed old man who could not fathom the inner workings of Michael's mind. Nobody can. Nobody ever will and it will always remain so because he likes it that way. When the time comes, the crazed doctor will meet his end at the hands of his sole obsession; on his knees with a stomach full of blood, but not before he makes Loomis his human pin-cushion first.

Over the dry fall leaves each of his heavy boots crackles upon, and then to the sound of crinkling grass as he stalks and weaves through the back of shaded properties, his steps equatable to someone who has not yet learnt to walk quietly or much rather has no care for it, instead relying on the verges to muffle the sound. Each footfall is evenly spaced from the last with the most perfect rhythm one after the other. Michael prefers to stick to grassy pathways where the shadows of the night may easily conceal his movements, an even wiser decision now seeing that police would be on high alert. He has no intention of returning to the wards anytime soon. His fingers coil and uncoil at his sides just from the thought of preparing for yet another killing, all the brutal ways he could discover to slaughter another living and breathing being just to feel the life drain from their body.

Michael paces onward but stops abruptly in the shaded back garden of a random house. Its back porch lights are on, dimly illuminating the back door entrance. The muffled sound of a TV playing from within can be heard even from where he stands, and it's the perfect night for some bloodshed. He stands in the darkness as a cool breeze rustles the trees and bushes around him, plucking frail leaves from their branches and whisking them through the air, so very alive and moving compared to his otherwise completely unmoving frame. After a moment of simply observing he begins to slowly approach the door, his footsteps lighter and more precise than moments ago, before silently peering into the window. His eyes search through the murky darkness, only faintly illuminated by the glow of the television from the room opposite and establishing quickly what seems to be the kitchen.

He steps away from the window to glance around stiffly as though evaluating a way inside. He reaches for the door handle in the hopes that perhaps the owner hadn't been bright enough to lock it, but upon turning it comes to find it locked. Although prying the window or door open with brute force would be a simple task for someone with his strength, it was far from quiet. Just as he turns to find another route in, something catches his eye. On the ground beside the porch steps is a small spindly, dried shrub with a red brick nestled snugly within it, yet it's placed at a strange angle and slightly raised. Upon bending down, he promptly pushes the brick aside, only to discover a silver key beneath it, which he removes before moving the brick back into place with the key, slipping it into the keyhole and twisting it. With a brisk click, the door unlocks and Michael pushes it open, enters and silently shuts it behind him. Glancing around, his eyes search the small kitchen.

Despite the absence of food, the lingering aroma of a previously cooked roast dinner drifts into the orifices of his pale mask, filling his nostrils with the delectable scent and urging him to inhale deeply, but food isn't what he's come for.

Throughout the dimly-lit kitchen, Michael paces with slow, light steps, opening and rummaging through various drawers and cabinets as he goes. Then he stops, casting his eyes to the nearby knife block on the counter to his right. The sound of the television in the lounge is loud enough to keep whoever is watching it preoccupied if they weren't otherwise somehow asleep, leaving Michael free to scour for whatever he was in search of.

His fingertips land on the first knife out of a total of six, unsheathing it from the holder to reveal a rather disappointingly short and unremarkable blade that was clearly well used before slipping it back into the cork. Taking hold of the fifth knife, he slides it from the block, as he would expect that each would be larger to a previous one. His fingers tighten around the solid black handle and proceed to rotate it in his grasp as though carefully inspecting it. It's the ideal shape and length that would prove utterly lethal without being too bulky or large. Its silver blade shimmers brilliantly, virtually untouched yet fully prepared to rip through flesh and spill rich red pools of blood-a most magnificent weapon to use to his heart's sick and twisted content. Of course Michael could be far more creative with his weapon of choice, but just as his heart and mind held an inseparable connection to his home, as did the very simple yet effective kitchen knife.

One final glance over the glimmering blade is all Michael needs before padding silently into the lounge. A few moments ago, it might have been just a little bit of noisy comedy from the television, but is now quickly replaced by the bloodcurdling, terrified screams of an old woman as Michael hacks and slashes at her without hesitation. The knife cuts cleanly through her frail arms braced so hopelessly in front of her as he stabs in swift repetitive motions over and over and over again.

Despite not being entirely calculated, each stab is controlled enough not to be fatal. It's brutal, feral even. With every stab sends the crying old woman stumbling further back, clumsily throwing items such as a vase or even the nearby telephone which Michael swats to the side aggressively before lurching at her and viciously throwing her through the antique coffee table perched beside the armchair. Michael stands idly for a moment simply savouring the sounds of yet another victim, watching her writhe and wail helplessly on the floor. His fingers remain tight around the knife handle and his masked gaze stern on her wounds, how her arms are littered with deep, bleeding gashes that had already dribbled throughout the lounge and soiled the soft woven ivory rugs, soaking through to polished pine floorboards.

The floorboards squeak and bend as he paces forward with slow, heavy steps. In one fluid motion Michael's knife swiftly pierces through the woman's outstretched hand; the sheen of crimson coated metal glints in the light before it is ripped from her and elicits a horrifying scream from her lungs. He plunges the knife through her palm a second time, a third, a fourth before snatching her wrist and driving the knife through her arm. There's blood splattered all over the wall, staining the armchair, the rugs, pooling on the floor and reflecting his pale white mask.

There is no end to the screaming, and neither will it come until Michael is satisfied. The events in the institution were tame. It was simply child's play, a demonstration of what he had planned. This was just the beginning of the havoc he would wreak, and he'll gladly contribute to watching each and every one of these people drop like flies until there's noone left.

Michael's coming home and Haddonfield is simply his playground for a bloody massacre.

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 (𝟭)

𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || Do not fall in love with your clients. It’s the first rule they teach. But Andy is not sure he can follow it anymore after meeting you.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF, MYSTERY, heartbreak, (this is gonna be a wild ride.) 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘿𝙉𝙄!

This chapter is just world building.

I do not know shit about law.

This story is gonna have a lot of MCU characters and Andy barber. In this Andy doesn’t have a previous family (neither Laurie nor Jacob exist).

Also thank you for 700 followers. I love you people! 

series masterlist || masterlist

BREAKING NEWS: The vengeful scientist, who burnt down the Pierce Industries’ lab, denied bail.

Andy placed his coffee on the table and sighed as he read the news headline. This was the most sensational news of the moment and was plastered from news channels to Twitter.

Y/N L/N. The scientist had been fired from Pierce Industries and as a revenge she had allegedly set fire to the whole laboratory she previously worked in. Gladly there were no casualties.

Truth be told, he was tired of listening to the same old thing over and over again. The case wasn’t going anywhere and all the evidences were against her; there was no way she was going to win.

She had pleaded not guilty but with the way the case was going, she most likely was. And the poor soul didn’t even have a lawyer.

When the case had first come up, Neal had decided to defend her. But then had chickened out at the last moment. Neal sure was a pain in everyone’s ass, Andy scoffed to himself.

He once again glanced at the news channel and stopped right in his tracks. The tv screen was showing a video of the scientist walking towards the courthouse.

Her eyes were downcast as she pushed through the crowd. But then she had taken one glance up and seen straight through the camera.

And that glance had captured his heart. It was filled with sadness, disappointment and.... innocence. And Andy’s gut was never wrong.

Andy had seen enough culprits and innocents, to see in someone’s eye whether that person was guilty or not. And you... weren’t guilty.

There were enough wolves wearing sheep’s skin in this business. But there rarely were any sheep who were forcefully dressed in wolves clothes. You seemed to be one of them.

That one look at the camera was enough to make him change his mind. He was going to take the case.

~~~

You awkwardly stared at the two guards’ back as they led the way through. You had no idea what was happening.

Just that the guards had come up and given you your clothes and told you to get dressed. You were glad to ditch that ugly prison uniform but it would’ve been better if you had a idea where you were going.

Prison was well.... worst than you’d expected. It was brutal and ruthless and you hoped to god you wouldn’t ever go back in; though you were sure god won’t hear you.

What you didn’t expect though was the guards taking you to meet a man dressed in an expensive navy blue suit. He radiated confidence, assurance and authority.

“Mr. Barber.” One of the guards gave a knowing nod to that man. They then shared a hushed conversation you couldn’t hear as you stood quietly in the corner.

You almost got a heart attack when the guards left you alone with him without another word. Was this some prank? Who was he?

“Andrew Barber. I am your new lawyer. Your bail plea is accepted and you are no longer expected to stay in the prison...”

Your mouth hung open at his words and your brain stopped comprehending. He was saying more, but your poor system could only digest the beginning.

“I don’t have any money.” You interrupted him with the first thing that came to your mind. The previous you would’ve introduced yourself just as politely and with a charming smile. But after what life had given you, you weren’t interested in any pleasantries.

You talked straight to the fact. Andy was definitely a lawyer who would dry up your bank accounts and that was if you had any. You didn’t want to get all excited only for him to leave you hanging.

“I’m taking this case pro bono.” You instantly liked this man. “Also may I ask why you said you don’t have any money.” Andy knew you weren’t rich, but you weren’t penniless either.

He had ran a thorough back check on you. And boy, had he been surprised. You were a law abiding citizen to begin with; you hadn’t even broken a traffic signal before all of this.

He had tried contacting some of your colleagues and had failed. But from what he had gathered, you weren’t minutely like what the media painted you to be.

You weren’t scheming and cunning, you were kind and caring if anything. You weren’t an irresponsible researcher who deserved to be fired, instead from what he had gathered, you really loved your work and were exceptional good at it.

When he had first seen the news, he himself had been convinced it was definitely done by you. Now though, he wasn’t quite sure.

“That son of a...” you almost shouted. Lowering your voice once again you began, “Mr. Neal Logiudice’s fees were quite high. I sold my house for it and then, he fucking left me alone on the hearing day.

So now I’m absolutely penniless and homeless and on top of that, falsely accused.” Andy liked the fire shining bright through you.

Life had been cruel, yet you hadn’t submitted. With your head held high, you were still fighting. Also he got an overwhelming urge to punch Neal.

“And wait. My plea was rejected just last week. How am I bailed?” You had always been thirsty for answers. You were a scientist after all.

“I pulled some strings.” His reply answered your question but didn’t exactly answer your question. He was a lawyer after all.

“Why are you doing this? To get famous?” Your face was plastered everywhere and your story was the hot topic. The lawyer defending you would definitely end up on the screens as well.

“I don’t know.” That was true. Since the day Andy had seen your eyes, he had been restless. Something in him was screaming at him to help you. And after researching almost everything about you, he was even more adamant about helping you.

After doing quite a lot of work and collecting favours he had finally gotten you a bail. He had expected the warden to tell you, but apparently you were very clueless.

You didn’t know if you should be trusting this man. It was all so sudden. Just half an hour back you were wondering if you’d get the laundry duty and now you were... free?

Well, anything was better than the cold stench of prison. “So, can we leave?” You didn’t want to stay here for a moment more and you didn’t care where Andrew took you. “Oh, sure.”

~~~

You barely had any belongings as you left the prison. The first thing you did was bath in the warm sun. It was nice being free. Rather it was the best thing ever.

As you approached his sleek Audi, you still didn’t understand what he saw in you. Why was he doing all this? Hell, he wasn’t even getting paid.

You wanted to sob as you sat back comfortably in the cozy car. You knew you were going to cry soon about everything happening. You just didn’t want to in front of this helpful stranger.

The first thing Andy did when he entered the car was look at you seriously instead of driving. “I need you to tell me one thing before we begin. And I need you to tell me the truth. Are you guilty?”

Your voice was raw with emotion and you choked on your words, “No. I haven’t done anything.” Tears left your eyes without your permission and rubbed them off quickly.

“I need you to tell me the truth. You can trust me. If you have done it, tell me. So that I can find a way out of it for you. That’s what lawyers do. If you keep me in the dark I won’t be able to help you.” Andy said with a sigh.

You didn’t know why but you wanted this man to believe you. You wanted to shout and scream till he realised you were saying the truth.

“I am telling you the truth. I’m innocent.” Your vision was blurred due to the tears accumulated in your eyes. Yet you noticed how blue his eyes were. “You know the evidences are against you, right?”

You nodded your head slowly, “I know. But they are all false. Every single one of them is lying. That’s what I’ve been shouting since the they came to arrest me.”

Your lips were trembling and tears accumulated in your eyes as with a broken voice, you finally admitted. “I… I really haven’t done anything. I didn’t even leave my house that day. I…. I was never fired.”

[retvenkos]

newfound love | t.l.

Little Women - Laurie Laurence x Reader, slight angst, fluff

tw: mentions of a dead mother

word count: 1.9k

A/N: i’m apparently incapable of writing fluff without first mentioning crushing loss, so that’s fun.

prompt: we’re going out in the cold for a walk, and I know you don’t want to get wet, but I’m trying to convince you to make a snow angel with me

The first thing (Y/n) knew was the cold. From the moment they had been born, they knew the icy touch of frigid air and the bite of snow. Winter babies were often babies who didn’t survive, but it had been their mother that didn’t last the night. Their family had mourning during the most dangerous of seasons, snow falling on their cheeks and melting at their hot tears.

Ever since, (Y/n) knew that winters often brought more problems than they were worth - from the cold, to the lack food, to the bouts of sickness that always seemed to follow, and the tight grasp of melancholy that held their heart hostage. Times were hard enough without the troubles of a changing season, and to have winter come early was simply cruel.

Already the winds had changed, and sometimes, when (Y/n) looked around at the people who surrounded them, they thought they could tell who was already blown away.

Laurie had always been rather good at convincing them that it was just worry, but the feeling never left, just gnawed a little less. 

Now, with the war being what it was, there was more at risk, and more that ate at (Y/n), devouring the very root of their being. It hadn’t taken long for Laurie to notice the strength of (Y/n)’s grief, that year, and he had grown intent on trying to show (Y/n) the beauty of winter, even with it’s hardship and death.

“You can’t just have one,” he had said, sounding much older than he usually did. “Everything is good and bad.”

“Are we?”

And Laurie had laughed unabashedly, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. (Y/n) hadn’t admitted it, then, but they resolved that if naivete was the worst of Laurie’s offenses, they could fall in love with all of him - the good and bad.

In his attempts to demonstrate the enchantment of winter (because Laurie was a true romantic, and he did insist winter was enchanting), he had exhausted every effort he could think of.

He had taken (Y/n) out to ice skate, had taken them to a winter dance, and had even stolen some of his grandfather’s seasonal wines for them to share. Although that last one was largely a success, before they were caught, (Y/n) still couldn’t shake the idea that winters brought nothing but misery. It was an instinct set deep in the fibre of their soul; something created the moment they were born, when the ice and cold had stolen them from the warmth of a mother.

It seemed, even with Laurie’s efforts, that there was one inescapable truth about (Y/n)’s experiences:

Winters were bleak and their frosts were long, lingering well after the snow had melted and the sun dared to peek out once more.

When it neared the end of winter, (Y/n) had assumed that Laurie had let his little project go. It had been a while since he asked them about their opinion of the winter months, and while (Y/n) still caught him staring every once in a while, he made no effort to speak of what he was thinking.

On a day when the cold seemed to be letting up, (Y/n) and Laurie made plans to meet the next day. He had some books he wanted them to see, and (Y/n) was in the throes of  a crisis - finding themself unable to oppose Laurie’s good, if often too forward, nature.

When (Y/n) woke to find that it had snowed sometime between night and early morning, they had sighed, but steeled themself to the reality of it. The day prior they had promised Laurie they would go over, and when Laurie had smiled, they had even promised to be in a better mood. Laurie had said that they needn’t hide their feeling for his sake, but (Y/n) put their hands over his and told them they wanted to.

“It won’t be winter for much longer.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time (Y/n) managed to speak too soon.

Bundled in their warmest clothes, (Y/n) had set out in the cold, intent to walk to Laurie’s house, no matter the weather. The snow crunched beneath their boots, and the rising sun made a blinding glare against the white expanse, but they journeyed forth.

Laurie didn’t live too far away from (Y/n). In the summer months, walking to his house was a welcome distraction and the view of the world in full bloom never ceased to amaze them. (Y/n) looked around at the snow covered world around them and tried to appraise it in Laurie’s eyes - what enchanting beauty could be found, when everything was frozen in time?

Perhaps there was something beautiful in the vastness of it - when covered in snow, the world didn’t seem to end at definite horizon. The clouded sky met the snowy land in a sort of haze - one color mixing with the other and never quite distinguishing itself. And the icicles hanging from trees seemed to shine like diamonds when the sunlight hit them, just right. The ice was sharp and deadly, yes, but it was also delicate and easily broken. 

(Y/n) stopped beneath a tree and when they looked back at the way they came, there was almost something poetic in the way their steps had made a trail - like their existence in the world left a mark, no matter how small.

(Y/n) looked down at their shoes, shaking their head at their own thoughts. If only Laurie saw them now - he might think all of this was his doing.

Perhaps it was.

(Y/n) scuffed the fresh layer of snow with the tip of their shoe, revealing some of the grass beneath - a dark green that reminded (Y/n) of the decorations Laurie had insisted on putting up, claiming that the atmosphere alone would be enough to convince them of the beauty of winter.

(Y/n) was careful to admit it, but all of Laurie’s antic - from the most simple to the elaborate - had made them feel better. Most of the time. Laurie’s presence alone was enough to coax happiness out of them, pushing down that melancholy that stubbornly clung to their being.

“(Y/n)!” A voice brought them out of their thoughts, and it took a moment for (Y/n) to realize they had been smiling.

Laurie, wrapped in a thick coat, was running over to them, his expression a blur and hair flying wild. The sun was rising with him and made it hard to focus on his nearing figure for long, but when he was close enough, Laurie blocked the glare with an amusement that seemed to shine brighter than his heavenly competitor.

“I didn’t think you’d come out for a walk.”

(Y/n) brought a hand up to tame his hair. “Well, I did promise you, didn’t I?”

Laurie nodded his head, dark hair flying once more. “I just thought that with the snow, you might have changed your mind.”

“If it was anyone else, I would have.”

“Do I really mean that much to you?”

(Y/n) felt their cheeks get hot and burrowed their face deeper into their scarf. Laurie hummed in acknowledgement, neither triumphantly nor disappointedly, just markedly.

“You wouldn’t be admiring the weather, would you? I was trying to compose a poem on my way here - something that would capture the essence of a final snow.” (Y/n) scoffed and Laurie’s teasing eyes caught their gaze. “Perhaps you have a line or two to add?”

“Maybe,” (Y/n) conceded, “but only if I can write it somewhere warm - preferably in front of a fireplace, with those books you mentioned.”

The two set off in the way Laurie had come, (Y/n) making it a point to step in his footprints from earlier so that they might avoid getting wet anymore than they already were. Despite having consented to the idea that the winter might be slightly beautiful, in its own, haunting sort of way, (Y/n) was still averse to the cold, and there was nothing worse than the kind of cold that stuck to your skin after getting your clothes wet.

It was when Laurie’s house was in sight, and closer to them than the distant horizon, that snow started to fall from the heavens, sprinkling through Laurie’s dark hair and settling on his scarf. A snowflake fell on (Y/n)’s eyelashes, and they took in a breath, preparing to sigh, but stopped themself short. Laurie looked at them from the corner of his eye, just barely managing to suppress a smile from creeping onto his lips; there was affection in his eyes, though, sweet and pure.

“(Y/n),” Laurie grabbed their hands and the party in question turned to them, snow collecting on their head like the soft down of a duckling. “Do something for me?”

“What?”

Laurie fell back into the snow, letting go of (Y/n)’s hands as he dropped so that he wouldn’t pull them with him. He fell back with an “oof” that seemed to knock the wind out of him, but he quickly recovered started moving his arms and legs, fanning outwards to create a snow angel.

(Y/n) scoffed and shook their head. “Laurie, you’re going to get all wet.”

“And so will you, when you join me.” Laurie’s smile was convincing, making up for his lack of persuasion skills. (Y/n) was able to resist, if only barely.

They opened their mouth to refuse, but no sound came. Laurie seemed to notice the falter in their resolve because he held out a hand, sitting up carefully as to not ruin his angel.

“The house is right there. We’ll be inside before the cold seeps through the layers of your clothes.” 

“Is this another attempt of yours to get me to fall in love with winter?”

Laurie smiled devilishly, despite what he had created just moments before. “You’ve already fallen in love. My schemes are over.”

Laurie was right - (Y/n) had fallen in love - but whether it was with winter or the boy who pointed out it’s beauty, was hard to tell. Maybe a snow angel would help them decide...

“Fine, for you.”

A moment after the words left their lips, Laurie reached for their hand and tugged them downward, pulling (Y/n) with such a force that they stumbled in their fall and landed half on top of him. (Y/n) shrieked and screwed their eyes tight.

They were awfully close, when dared to peek. Lauries cheeks were flushed scarlet, although whether it was from the cold or their position was hard to determine. (Y/n) shuffled away and lay down in the snow, hesitating before putting their hands out. Laurie lay back down, a little breathless, and the two stared at each other for a moment before laughing, not minding the wet snow beneath them.

(Y/n) eventually pushed their arms out and made their frozen angel, their fingers grazing Laurie’s arm. 

When the two stood up, they both looked at their creations with a critical eye.

“We ruined those pretty well, don’t you think?” 

“You were the one who pulled me down!”

“You didn’t give yourself enough space to make wings.”

(Y/n) and Laurie looked at the other challengingly before breaking out in chuckles.

“Let’s get inside. I wouldn’t want your newfound love of winter spoiled by catching a cold.”

(Y/n) nodded, but it wasn’t until they were sitting in front of a fire, books between them and blankets draped over their shoulders, that (Y/n) told Laurie, in just above a whisper, that it wasn’t winter they had discovered their affections for.

[stripper-patrick]

China Love 🎎Andy Barber

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, dom!Andy, angst, protected, this is a 2 parter

Ima try my best to do a 3rd person POV

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Andy Barber x black plus sized reader

~Andy’s POV~

2:46am and all I can think about is her moans and how good I made her feel. Her smile when I walk into the room, how strong she is, especially strong-minded. Laurie stirs in her sleep resting her arm on my chest and that’s when I look at her. I don’t find the same love I had for her before Y/N. It’s not to say I don’t love her as a person. I do dearly and I love her as the mother of my child but I don’t love her as my wife anymore.

I sigh closing my eyes finally drifting to sleep not wanting to think anymore.

...

Y/N has been avoiding me for about 3 weeks and I can’t help but feel bad. The truth is I don’t know how to tell her I want her. That night is all I can think about. I’ve been so stressed out these last few weeks because my son might be a suspect in a murder case. That’s really been weighing on my shoulders especially since I’ve been kicked off the case. Laurie has been growing cold against me and I think she believes our son did it. There’s no way he did it. And I’m scared to ask just in case she thinks I’m trying to accuse her. I just need to know we’re on the same page as a family.

I’m sitting at my desk when I’ve finally had enough. I press the button for my assistant and she walks in with a smile “hey Lynn can you bring Y/N in here to me please?”

“Yes sir” she leaves and I take a deep breath standing up. I watch out of the glass as Y/N pushes her chair out and walks with Lynn. She opens the door and sees me folding her arms. Flashbacks hit me hard and next thing I know I’m having to shield my boner. She looks so gotdamn good with her beautiful mahogany hair placed into a neat puff on top of her head, her shapely body concealed into a short tight floral skirt and an olive green top with nude sandals with gems on them. Maybe it’s because I was drunk but I’m just noticing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist that says ‘breathe’ in intricate letters

“You wanted to see me” she doesn’t even make direct eye contact with me. I nod towards the seat and she shuts the door and sits down. I lean on the front of my table watching her cross her legs and move back.

“Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding me? And don’t lie”

“Because I feel absolutely terrible about what your wife will say when she finds out you fucked your intern and further more I don’t wanna be fired for fraternizing with my bosses boss” she cuts right the the chase

“Understandable but you won’t get fired” I reassure her

“Andy I already have people that don’t like me in this office and I don’t need our business getting out and I’m scared”

“Don’t be Y/N but if you wanna stop I completely understand” I nod “I just want the old us back” I’m referring to how much we used to be. Like 2 peas in a pod. Bound at the hip. Going from best friends to not even speaking is different for us.

She stares at me with her big daunting brown eyes “I bought you a coffee it might be a lil cold but you’ll be ok” I chuckle dropping my head while she stands up to get it. Honestly I don’t wanna stop what we’re doing because I can’t get enough of her but if that’s what she wants then I won’t argue it.

Y/N comes back with the coffee in her hand and hands it to me. “Have you talked to

Laurie about it yet?” She cross her arms looking at me and it’s just something about her stance that makes me wanna place her over my knee and smack her ass red. Laurie never really enjoyed when I spanked her or pulled her hair or even choked her.

“Absolutely not” I take a sip of the lukewarm coffee. She nods in approval.

“Well back to my never ending paperwork to file”

“Just do these for me and fill this out and have it back to me by the end of the day” I watch as YN scans the paper I gave her skipping the other papers. “This is an official hiring worksheet” she states as a matter of factly.

“I’m aware”

“You wanna hire me?”

“Yea and plus you’ll make more money that what you’re making now as an intern so fill it out and you’ve got it” I smile. She bites her lip and I know she said we should stop but I could fill that pretty pussy one more time.

“Thanks” she smiles. I watch her walk away before taking a deep breath. I sit back behind my desk and continue working.

....

Another late night at the office. I sigh rubbing my hands over my face. I look out and see Y/N coming in here. I believe it’s only me and her in here. I watch as a tall man stand up and walk to her. It’s Neal. He slams papers on her desk startling her yelling throughout the office.

“You dumbass bitch. You filed the wrong fucking stack” she stands up in protest. Anger fills me half way and I’m about to slap the dog shit out of him for talking to her like that.

“Don’t you ever in your gotdamn life say some bullshit like that Neal. I’ve dealt with your shit long enough. That stack was getting filed regardless right? Ard then chill out with the fuck shit” there’s her Baltimore accent. He rises above her with intimidating power and I stand up jogging to the door. Anger washes over me as I swing the door open and stomp towards the pair. I didn’t even notice the shocked scared expression painted on Y/N’s face. I grab Neal by the collar seething like a rabid animal. Without saying a word to him I give him a death glare as a warning.

“Andy” Y/N peeps out. Neal cracks a smile and I press him against the wall watching the humor drain from his face replaced with sheer terror.

“You think this is a joke? Do you?” I scream

“Andy” Y/N screams louder and I come to my senses. I let him go watching him scramble to gather his things leaning collectively. I let out a deep sigh and she’s comes to my aid rubbing my shoulder “calm down I’m ok he didn’t hurt me”

“He wouldn’t have gotten the chance” I take a deep breath

...

It’s been a few weeks since the ordeal and unfortunately after that I was let off my sons case. To make matters worse me and Laurie got into an argument that I’m sure puts us close to the brink of separation. I believe that she thinks Jacob murdered Ben and she won’t admit to it and keeps trying to switch the narrative.

I’m sitting on the couch drinking a beer at 10:30 at night when I get a call. It’s Y/N.

“Hey Y/N” I swig the last of my beer

“Hey Andy are you busy?” She asks. She sounds nervous

“No why?” I ask smiling at the sweet sound of her voice

“Can you come by the office I have something for you”

“Y/N you know they’re gonna lose their shit if they see me in there especially after hours”

“Please it’ll be worth it” she pleads. I can already envision her bottom lip puckered out and her arms crossed. I sigh standing up stretching my back

“I’ll be there soon”

“Yay” she perks up and I laugh hanging up. I grab my coat and hear the footsteps of my basically estranged wife approaching.

“Where are you going? It’s 11:30”

“To handle some business at work” I lie. I’m not even sure what Y/N is up to. If it’s what I think it is then of course Laurie can’t know.

“I thought you were kicked off the case”

“Just some important files I forgot to log into the system. No big deal” I pull on my coat placing my hood on my head and exit swiftly. The heavy rain patters hard on the concrete splashing upward with each step I take toward the car.

I get in and press the start button watching Laurie observe me through the curtain. I reverse out of the driveway pulling off into the night.

....

I open the doors and see YN standing there with a trench coat and some heels on and a bottle of champagne. She doesn’t notice my movements as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her coat trying to perfect herself. She doesn’t realize she’s already perfect.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure Ms. YLN?” I inquire placing my hands on my pocket and leaning on the door frame. Her smile is bright when our eyes lock.

“Well I have made a change of my mind on something” I walk towards her where she sits me down in the chair standing before me. My heart is racing and my dick is starting to get hard.

“I bought the champagne just in case you need some extra convincing” she laughs. YN opens her coat dropping it on the floor revealing a beautiful 2 piece LINGERIE set. Her body compliments the piece beautifully and that’s when I really take her in. Not just for her sex appeal but for her in general. She kisses me leaning down and straddling my waist where I hold her hips and grab a handful of what’s really mine.

<3rd Person POV>

Andy can’t help but moan as YN grinds down on his thick throbbing boner just waiting to be released from its shackles. Her dominant side takes over and she grabs his face planting an open mouth kiss on his neck. She works on his pants getting on her knees. Mouth salivating as his dick finally springs free. She wraps her acrylic nails around the base swirling her top around collecting the precum.

Andy sinks in the chair ravishing in her skills. He presses her hair out of the way watching the way her pretty brown eyes stare back at him while she sucks and slurps her way to his soul. His head falls back guiding his hips into the back of her throat never breaking rhythm. She pulls his penis out of her mouth rubbing her thumb and palm over the tip while she takes one of his balls in his mouth. A loud moan escapes his lips. Andy has never experienced this before. Not this detailed to say the least.

All the while he’s receiving glorious pleasure, Laurie is home rocking and sobbing on the shower floor. She’s come to the conclusion that her husband doesn’t love her anymore and than her son is a murderer. While one of those is true she can’t help but feel rage and insanity boil within her.

Laurie collects herself and dries off grabbing a pair of jeans and a a shirt. She places her wet hair up letting it air dry. Her long legs stride to her sons room where he’d playing his game but pauses it and looks at her “are you ok mom?” Jacob asks

“Come with me honey we’re gonna go for a ride” before he can respond Laurie leaves the room going downstairs grabbing her shoes. She’s out of her mind. It’s like she’s watching herself complete this indescribable action and she can’t stop it. But she knows deep down in her heart Jacob murdered this boy and she can’t live her life knowing her son is a murderer.

Andy pulls YN up by the neck dragging his tongue along the bottom of her mouth holding her captive in his spell once again. He pulls her panties off collecting her wetness through his fingers. She’s more than ready. Andy pulls YN down on top of his dick watching her gasp as he fills her up.

“Feel that?” He rasps “that’s all yours”

“It’s mine. You’re mine” she utters rocking and swirling her hips electrifying her heated body. Her hands grip the arm rests of the chair as Andy starts pumping up into her.

Her sweet moans. Andy could listen to her moans all day. Laurie was never loud or pornographic like this. Not by a long shot. He watches her ass bounce on his lap as she licks and nips as his ear. The clapping and slushing sounds of their juices makes music to YN’s ears.

“My dirty little slut so fucking wet for me”

Meanwhile Laurie has just downed her second glass of bourbon while waiting for Jacob to approach. She places her glass in the sink when she hears his footsteps.

“Mom where are we going?” The young boy asks watching his mother look so far gone it looks like it’ll take her aged to return.

“Just for a drive” is all she says before she grabs the car keys walking past him and to the car. Jacob shuts and locks the door placing his hand on the car door and instantly gets this gut wrenching feeling that he needs to stay home.

“Maybe I should stay?” He asks

“Nonsense just get in” she starts the engine and Jacob takes a deep breath getting in the passenger seat. He grabs and locks his seatbelt as Laurie pulls out of the driveway pulling off. She takes an unfamiliar road of what looks like dark road. The sound of the rain was always Jacobs favorite. Only this time it dreaded him even more. The rain was heavy, loud, and unforgiving to any car that would step forth on the slippery slope with a daring intention to overcome it.

“Jacob I’m going to ask you one question and I need you to answer honestly” oh no. Jacob knew this question all too well “did you kill Ben?”

“Mom I already told you no” that wasn’t the answer Laurie had damn near given up her marriage for and she knew it wasn’t the truth. She just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was lying. Before she knows it she starts speeding up to 30 miles an hour when the speed limit is 35 but of course driving slow in this nasty weather is imperative but she didn’t care. It was imperative for Jacob to tell her the truth and she was convinced he wasn’t doing that.

“Jacob I’m being very serious tell me the truth”

“I am mom slow down” he pleads with her trying to understand why he isn’t believing her. Her foot presses on the gas even more going 45 miles an hour He goes on his Apple Watch sending a quick text to his father praying to God he answers immediately.

Andy’s wrist buzzes but he doesn’t even bother looking at it as YN whimpers his name. Her hands shake as they try to find something to grab onto. Andy grabs her arms wrapping them behind her back as he holds her waist down thrusting upward hitting her sensitive g-spot making she cries out and squeeze his thick hands. The black hole soon to swallow the two up at the same time.

By this time Laurie is screaming at Jacob and has reached 70 miles an hour down the long road. Jacob pull on his seatbelt which locked for his protection. “Jacob I know you did. Your father may believe your lies but I don’t. You’re just like him. He lies to me and says he’s doing work and I just know he’s screwing someone else” Laurie is fed up. Tears pool both of their faces. Hers in despair and Jacobs in fear. She reaches 90. Jacob has been trying to call Andy and to no avail, no answer. He’s weighed all the possible outcomes of throwing himself out the car but with his locked seatbelt it won’t work.

“Jacob tell me the truth” before he can answer she presses on the gas going to 100. His chest is tight and Jacob has a feeling he’s going to die.

YN’s legs shake as Andy keeps drilling into her relentlessly wanting to make the biggest mess of her. “Neal can’t have you. No one can have you your mine. Fuck this tight pussy is gonna make me fill you up”

“Andy I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me darling” As the pair reach their climax grasping onto each other for dear life Laurie reaches hers screaming at Jacob continuing to incline the accelerator as he continues calling his father on his apple watch. The teary eyed boy sees that the speedometer has reached 104 Mph and all attempts to try to stop his manic mother have faded. He silently prays as she yells one final statement “I know you did it”

Andy clutches YN’s quaking body as she whines taking the thrusts of his dick with no other option. The duo moans out loudly just as Laurie and Jacob scream before black consumes the both of them. She crashed the car head first into the side of a brick tunnel.

YN looks at Andy who has a small smile on his face. His hands unwrap from her lower back where he held her in place and she looks at his Apple Watch seeing the 7 missed calls from Jacob and one text reading: “mom losing shit”. YN glances at the time displaying 1:22am. Why is Jacob awake and why did he call 7 times.

“Andy you need to go. Jacob called you 7 times” his eyes go wide as the brown skinned mistress pulls herself off of his deflating member as he tries calling Jacob back. It goes straight to voicemail. Andy can’t think of anything but the worst.

[padme-amitabha]

Do you have any Anidala or vaderdala FanFiction recommendations?

 I do! Another anon was asking for recs too so I’m answering for you both.

Frankly, I haven’t read most of the popular fics because either they are too long and I never completed reading them or because I think they are based on TCW’s and now Disney’s interpretation of the characters (which is fine, of course, just not my cup of tea). I mostly read one-shots or completed short fics. As for Vaderdala, you’ll find lesser-known ones in my list (mostly angst) and most of these are vignettes and canon-compliant (where Padmé is dead) but some of them are AUs where she is alive or resurrected. I haven’t read that many fics either since I got into the fandom this year but I’ll add on these once I read more fics.

I’m sure there are more well-written fics out there and other Anidala blogs would be happy to recommend them. Anyways, in no particular order:

Anidala

1. Across the Centuries by skywalkersamidala

2. Our Sky Full of Stars by eternal_optimist

3. In the Eye of the Storm by Gemmaaaaa

4. Will You Fake Marry Me? by skywalkersamidala

5. And Baby Makes Three by QueenMeep

6. Second Chances by skywalkersamidala

7. Scars by skywalkersamidala

8. Lullabies by enmudecer

9. Three by skywalkersamidala

10. Someday by skywalkersamidala

11. Five Weddings and a Funeral by skywalkersamidala

12. Nos Cedamus Amori by skywalkersamidala

13. Welcome Home by skywalkersamidala

14. Persephone by Vader's Fallen Angel

15. Whole by Elana

16. Never Gone by Lilac Moon

17. Fascination by Lady Aeryn

18. Purity by Girlbender875

19. A Boy and a Girl by  Adin the Conqueror

20. The Wolf and The Fox by WritingOnTheWall

21. Heart and Soul by WingletBlackbird

22. Wait for Me by  CatiiaSofiia, MissChrisDaae

23. Learn to Fly by  mellodramatica

24. A Rose in the Deeps by devilinthedetails

25. Ballad of Angels and Sparrows by Vox_Panica_48

26. Drops of Mustafar by Ewok_Poet

27. When he Feels Lonely by WingletBlackbird

28. Godflowers by GoldenS0422

29. Let It Rain by Rilwen-Shadowflame

30. A Song Across the Stars (series) by CatiiaSofiia, MissChrisDaae

31. Also-Ran by metanoia-in-bloom

32. Tangle by Lady Aeryn

33. Baby Just Say Yes by Anya25510

34. Love at first sight by ebonyXivory777

35. Summer Rain by LVB

36. Tell Me a Story by LVB

37. A (Not So) Lovely Surprise by trashforanidala (MyBleedingSapphireHeart)

38. All our Futures; Past's Presence by asparagus_writes

39. oh, what a thing to do (my love) by asparagus_writes

40. The Lost Jedi by HomeAgainRose

41.  What's In A Name? by brightestorangedawn

42. Untitled by Rogue Darth Skywalker

43.  Her by shelivesfree

44.   infinite by shelivesfree

45. i saw you in a dream by ruinedwords

46. Shadows in the Briar by starbirdrampant (ineasako22)

Vaderdala

1. The Ghosts on Coruscant by numphet

2. Beloved Nemesis by  TheRealThing

3. Against Nature by  What-Ansketil-Did-Next

4. Drowning by Mistress Eden

5. Gratefully Dead  by Vader's Fallen Angel

6. Afterimage by garnettrees

7. The Cruel Unsaid by vanives

8. Ghosts in the Tower by Judge the Worthy

9. Brown Eyes by Christy T

10. Atonement by The Sith Virtuoso

11. Something Very Special by Gemmaaaaa

12. Memoirs of a Sith Lord  by stevenrbrandt

13. Remains by Lady Aeryn

14. Resurrection by J3di Jad3

15. The Portrait of Senator Amidala by  Blacknayami

16. The Smart One by FernWithy

17. Moments Like These by SweetSinger2010

18. Messages from the Grave by VA-Parky

19. Mausoleum Gates by Scarlett Wren

20. Reunited in the Force by MSquared79

21. Beautiful by SkItZoFrEaK

22. Echoes and Dreams by Laurie Jupiter

23. Ghost Protocol by J3di Jad3

24. Hear The Rain Cry by Lereniel 

25. Last Breath by Lereniel 

26. Padmé by  Isa_Faradien

27. Until Christmas ... - Day n ° 23: Warrior & Xmas by Isa_Faradien

28. Phantom Pain by VA-Parky

29. Cold Blows the Wind by  AceQueenKing

30. Traces of Human by Huntress of the stars

31. Lights in the Valley Outshine the Sun by Elizabeth7

32. Reconciliation by JediSenoj451

33. He Dreams of Her by DarkGoddess2002

34. Regrets by emmi7thp

35. You Love Too Much by swan-scones

36. Forever by Siaynoqsbride

37. Mortal Trappings by avatar-ahsoka

38. Set in Stone by Sally the Sunflower

39. My Dearest Ani, by domesticzelink   

40. Homecoming by SpellCleaver

41. Learn The World Has Teeth by violentdarlings

42. The Five Time Vader Sees Padme by nspx

43. Things are made to be broken by Queengoddess

44. She Was My Wife by LVB

45. What Might Have Been by tantive404

46. Reunion by SpiderMansUnfriendlyNeighbor

47. Slipped Away by don't-look-for-me5

48. Of Snow and Stars by Rheya-StarPhoenix

49. Impasse by  stuffilikeiwrite

50. Reunion by stuffilikeiwrite

51. Pawn of the Enforcer by stuffilikeiwrite

52. stars rearranged by missbeatriz

53. Regret of a Machine by  LanaBenikoisBestGirl

54. Vinculum by  fragile_thoughts

55. A Wrong Sort of Miracle by  Kyra_Neko_Rei

56. Here With You by  ohgodmyeyes

57. Dinner on Mustafar by  salamanderinspace

58. Fates Rest in Wood by Alligatorsenator

59. Whatever it takes by CasieyFran

60. saturn devours his children by tridentarius

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  

Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦ ��✧  ✦  ✧  

The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[bugsinshoes]

here !!! have some angst-filled laurie doodles. for the soul !!

(more under the cut !! i just dont wanna clog anyones dashes lmao)

OKAY SOOOO these two here are concepts i had for the laurie mindscape thingy !!!

dipper, mabel and ford enter laurie's mindscape (FOR SOME REASON IDK YET) and they explore a bit. ford ends up walking deep into her subconscious, entering her repressed memories. he finds a picture frame that catches his eye and that he feels weirdly compelled to, and enters the memory, only to find laurie on her bathroom floor, shaking, crying, with blood dripping out of her right eye. ford is extremely concerned and he's all: "... laurie?" but laurie SHOOTS UP and instantly PANICS !! shes extremely confused and afraid, as she's got no idea whats going on. she tries to get AWAY from ford, but the bathtub is behind her so she can't MOVE, and so she tries to stand up and grips the shower curtain for support, but the force she was pulling at dismantles the pole from the wall and the shower curtain comes CRASHING DOWN and that scares her even MORE and its all too overwhelming and all she can do is just sit on the floor, staring with wide, petrified eyes at ford, her breath coming out in short gasps.

the worst part is she THINKS ford is trying to hurt her because she doesn't realize this is a MEMORY and shes so paranoid and afraid I CANNNTTTT

also laurie had more frequent nightmares after weirdmageddon. she was finally healing after 27 years, but the apocalypse rolls around and it completely DESTROYS all her progress. she tries to calm down by telling herself that bill is gone and that hes dead and that he cant hurt her anymore. alsooo shes got more experience with handling nightmares and stuff now, so that does really help

this is based on the lyrics from the song "shakin' all over" by the guess who !!! (theyre a great canadian band i thought fit laurie well !)

AAANNND a mini comic idea thingy !! this is when lau and jossy are still together and jocelyn is mega concerned for her gf because she isnt acting like herself anymore and things are different and i just dkjfhsjfhurih

my girl is Going Through It :(

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam

summary: second part to the andy barber sugar daddy fic

warnings: smut, choking, hair pulling. that sugar daddy shit. angst, someone else asked for angst so blame them for this really

word count: around 10,160

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: part 1 x imagine, halloween with andy barber. i could die. anyway, i was him from the power puff girls this year, what were you guys?

Andy wasn’t your boyfriend.

You may have been the younger one in the relationship, but that didn’t mean you were naïve or delusional. If there was anything traditional that he was, it would be a friend. Yes, you guys had sex—disgusting sex that you couldn’t tell your other friends about without feeling like you were blushing from your head all the way down to your toes—but it was more than that.

It wasn’t romance, it couldn’t be. So, it had to be friendship. Trust, communication, common interests—ignore the physicality. So, yes, you would call Andy your friend and you hoped he felt the same.

You guys talked. A lot. He’d grown comfortable enough with you that he would text you if he couldn’t sleep, and if you were awake, you called him. It had been happening for a few months and you found that you loved these conversations. You loved all time spent with Andy, but these were special. You loved it when you were curled up in bed, listening to his deep voice get just a little deeper, heavy with exhaustion that he couldn’t satisfy with sleep.

These were the times when he let you in more than he probably should have.

Two nights prior, he’d called without texting. He’d woken you up, so you figured it was important, and it wasn’t like you truly minded. You’d made the decision to finish your last year of school online, to make yourself more available for one Andrew Barber, an insatiable lawyer that always made your toes curl. It simply wasn’t a point of stress for you.

He told you that he was going to have lunch with Laurie. They were arguing about where Jacob would go after he finished high school. Laurie wanted to get out of Massachusetts, move to Oregon where she had some family. You knew Andy intended to die in Massachusetts; he loved his home and he didn’t want to leave it for anything. It was quite the situation. Honestly, he just needed to talk to someone, and you were happy that he let you be there for him. Even though you knew you couldn’t help, not really.

He was terrified of losing Jacob, and it was coupled with this bitterness that came from knowing that if he was still married, this wouldn’t be a conversation at all. But it was a conversation, and that was a point of stress for you.

If Jacob did decide to go, you were afraid of how Andy would take it. You were scared that it would change everything about him. You didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, you were there to be unwaveringly supportive—Jacob would never! He loves you! He loves this place! But you honestly had no fucking idea what Jacob felt—you’d said maybe twenty words to him the entire time you’d known Andy.

So, come the day that they were set to meet, you were a nervous fucking wreck. You’d been trying and failing to calm yourself with Netflix and cookies. When Andy texted you, you swore you were going to have a heart attack.

Instead of news, he informed you that your history textbook was in his office. Again. It was never a big deal when you left things over there because you were over there often, but this wasn’t just any normal day, was it? You had an idea and you couldn’t let it go. You’d typed out the text seven times and erased it six.

I need it. I’ll be over in a minute.

Are you sure? I could drop it off later.

Need it now. Essay due soon.

I could send a car for you.

Andy.

Okay, sorry. I’ll see you soon.

Still, he didn’t like making you drive. You pretended that it was a tad annoying, but fuck no, it was not. Your life without having to drive was nearly limitless. Running late and still haven’t done your makeup? Do it in the car! Wasted time with Andy before a huge deadline and every minute counts? Homework in the car!

You put on a matching pink lace set, and a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt over it. You didn’t bother with makeup or brushing your hair—you just wanted to see him. It had been three entire days since you’d last seen him in person and nine since you’d been at the Barber house—it was due to a case, of course.

You found him waiting on the porch for you. You jumped into his arms because you wanted him to know that you weren’t liking all this distance. He held you so tight that you thought he might not let you go.

He kissed your head. “I know it’s been a while, baby.”

You pulled away, arching an eyebrow. “It’s been three days since you fucked me.”

Smirking, he glanced at the phone in his hand. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Why, not at all,” you argued, feigning innocence. “I’m here for my history textbook, I told you that I needed to write an essay. It’s due Friday.”

He nodded. “Then you don’t want distractions.”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “That would probably be for the best…but I could be convinced otherwise, if you had something in mind.”

With another smirk that was so Andy, he confidently reached down and pulled you up by your thighs. You instantly wrapped yourself around him, basking in him carrying you inside his home to his bedroom.

He set you against the door as soon as he closed it. Your shirt was gone before you could blink, and his mouth was all over your neck and shoulder. You shuddered, surprised by how much you had missed his beard. He leaned down and your bra was the next to go, his mouth claiming one of your nipples.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him there as your back arched for the door. “Daddy, that feels good.”

He switched to the next and his hands began working your pants out of the way. He pulled them from your skin slowly, fingers lingering at your hip bones for a moment, and you had to suppress your shiver. He shoved the denim down and got on his knees before you, his gorgeous blue eyes looking up at you.

Shit. You were sure you looked wrecked and bewildered as you stared down at him where he was sitting on his heels, hands clasped around your hips, mouth waiting to taste you. You leaned down to touch his face, kiss his forehead, over his nose, his cheeks. “Daddy, please, I need to feel your tongue inside me.”

“Against the door,” he ordered. “Hands at your sides, now.”

You obeyed quickly, legs rubbing together at the dark tone he was using with you. You weren’t sure but you liked to tell yourself that tone was reserved for you. You could never ask, of course. You just had to delude yourself into believing whatever reality was best for you.

His fingertips slid down, lace panties getting caught along the way. As soon as your pussy was exposed to him, his mouth was on you. He kissed you all over, small teasing touches that you couldn’t get enough of because they were so completely Andy. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he stared back and made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want you looking away.

The tip of his tongue slipped inside your entrance and you shook. He knew how to eat your pussy, but he was a man who didn’t like wasting time. More often than not, you missed out on that blissful feeling of his tongue inside you, in favor of focusing all his attention on your clit. You had no complaints, but you would die to feel his tongue like this.

You hissed, “daddy, fuck.”

He pulled his tongue out to lick over your clit several times, but he soon returned to dipping in a little—just to taste you, just to keep you frustrated. You shook and spasmed against the door pathetically, trying to keep your gaze on him the entire time.

He pulled back only to tell you, “grab my hair and ride my face, princess.”

You somehow managed to peel yourself off the door to oblige. Your fingers locked onto his hair tight because that was your only source of support. Your hips rolled slowly at first, clit brushing his tongue, but mostly just his beard. By the time you had found your footing, your body moved without any instruction from your brain. You did exactly as he asked, you rode his face, you used him. The noises he made, the ones that vibrated against you, were an indicator of how much he enjoyed it.

When he knew you were close, he took hold of your hips and shoved you into the door. It was his turn to take over and he did so enthusiastically. He rose onto his knees, lips sucking your clit mercilessly through all your screaming and pleading. As soon as one of his hands disappeared from your hip and he pressed his fingers inside you, you were coming.

He didn’t let you down easy. No, instead he told you to hold your arms against the door, over your head. Once you had listened, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and continued letting his tongue run through your sensitive pussy. Your body jerked with aftershocks and he didn’t care, he watched you with eyes that told you he had zero sympathy. He wanted another orgasm out of you and he was going to get it, no matter what.

It was rough, he built you up so high, he wound you so tight. Mere moments later, you crashed, snapped. You were shaking, whimpering, crying out for him. His attention never left you, eyes eagerly eating up every expression that crossed your face, repeating the touches that made your mouth drop or your teeth pull at your lip.

He pulled your legs onto the floor carefully, standing hurriedly to catch you. There was no way that you could stand on your own. You were the one that turned away, falling against the door for support, still a little fuzzy and a lot satisfied.

He set himself against you, arms around your waist, and you pressed your ass back, teasing his erection over his pants. “Baby…”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

He hummed shortly, unsure. His hand was spread out, flat to your stomach, one of those little reminders to how big he was, how strong. He pulled you back a little harder and you rolled your ass like a good girl. He sighed gently, turning his head to kiss the side of your face.

“Please, fuck me.”

“You want daddy’s cock?”

“I need your cock, daddy,” you corrected. “Fuck me hard, make it hurt. Stretch me out, use me, use my cunt, fill me up with your cum, daddy, please. Three days is too long.”

He growled, “God damn it.” He kept a good hold on you even as he was pulling his pants out of the way. After some shifting, he used one hand to spread your pussy and you shivered when you felt the head of his cock touching you, sliding through until his shaft was flush against you. His thrusts were hard, a promise of what was to come, his hips crashing against your ass, the tip teasing and pushing and spreading the arousal that was still dripping from your cunt.

He pressed in, you felt every second of the tip of his cock stretching you out, he was so slow about it. Then, he pulled out and went back to running his length up and down your slit.

“Daddy,” you muttered. “Please, daddy.”

He grabbed your ass, pinching until you yelped. “Be patient.”

“I’ve been patient,” you felt inclined to remind. More than patient. Three days? Three god damn days? How had you not gone insane?

“Keep talking back,” he challenged. “I’ll make you wait longer.”

That was the last thing you wanted and the last thing he needed. He needed you, you had the great honor of being the body Andy was going to use to forget his problems for a moment or two.

“Did you say something?” he pressed.

You refrained from huffing about it, but you did roll your eyes. “I said I’m sorry, daddy.”

Once more, his cock pushed into you. It was a bit more than before, but not nearly enough, not even half his length. He pulled out once again and resumed that tortuous teasing of letting you feel the shaft of his cock sliding over and over.

“Daddy,” you whined. “We don’t have time for you to do that.” He had an impressively long cock, if he were going to give you a little more each time, it would take the entire night.

He scoffed. “You’re not wrong…but I haven’t made you wait for it in so long. I’ve been spoiling the hell out of you. That’s why you’re here, distracting me when I need to be focused.”

“Make me wait tonight,” you bargained. “Right now, you need to fuck me. Don’t you wanna feel me coming on your cock, daddy?”

He took your hands, pulled your arms up completely and pressed them flat against the door. “Keep them there.”

“Yes, daddy.” Your body was pressed flat until he grabbed your hips and pulled you toward him. Your back was bent at an uncomfortable angle but the noise he made at the sight of you was sufficient consolation.

He felt over your ass before he pushed it up until you were just on your toes. You knew your calves would be sore for days after he was through with you.

His tip pressed against you again, slowly sliding into your pussy. Given how close your legs were, it created a tight fit that had both of you making a lot of noise. As his hips sat flush against your ass, he took his hands and let them roam, forcing them between you and the door to squeeze your breasts painfully. He felt your pussy clench when he pinched your nipple, so he did it with the other and kept doing it as he began to fuck you.

It was slow but so hard, so angry, frustrated, desperate, scared. Everything that had been on his mind for the past few days, those things that stopped him from spending time with you, he was trying to fuck all of it out of his mind.

The door was moving with you, something you felt more than heard over all the noise you were making. Your nails pressed against the door painfully, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. You were so close and he was too, you could tell when his hips began to move erratically.

“Is daddy making you feel good, princess?”

“So good, daddy,” you promised breathlessly. “I’m close—”

“Just wait a second, baby. Be a good girl and wait for daddy.”

You whimpered, knowing in seconds you were going to be filled up with his cum. You were going to get to drive home with it dripping out of your cunt. Each time he thrust back in, he hit that spot deep inside you, the one that made your body spasm, the very one that made you see stars.

He pulled out so suddenly and turned you to face him before you could voice your complaint. He picked you up without warning, simply pressed you flat to the door, set his body so deliciously close to yours, buried his head in the bend of your neck, and started fucking you again. He was grunting into your skin, holding you tight enough that you would bruise.

All you could do was cling to him, a stupid, weak attempt to keep him there forever. You didn’t want to have to leave, you didn’t want him to have with Laurie, you didn’t want him to be upset.

“Daddy,” you warned. You felt him nod gently.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

Only seconds later, you were tightening around him, hips stuttering as you tried to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing more. More sensations. More Andy. This triggered his release and soon, you were held against the door as he slowly, gently rolled his hips.

He kept you there for a long while, just breathing, thinking, silently standing together. You didn’t want to move, so you stayed still and quiet and waited for him to break it.

He kissed your collarbone. “Thank you.”

You ran your hand through his hair, sighing a tad shaky. “Don’t thank me.” As this continued, you knew you would need to instigate the separation. He had things to do, you had things to do. “Andy,” you said softly.

“I know,” he promised. “Just a little longer.”

You wouldn’t argue with that, couldn’t because he was perfect and you were obsessed with his skin, his body, everything about him. You would hold onto him for as long as he would let you.

You weren’t Andy’s girlfriend.

There were things you liked about that and then things you fucking hated. He hadn’t told you what happened, he hadn’t said a single word, and you weren’t allowed to ask. That much was clear. He canceled on you that night, told you he had a headache and when he heard the disappointment in your voice, he told you he wanted you to focus on your homework. He ended the call claiming that he would reward you later.

He might have rewarded you. Thrown some jewelry at you or something, but it didn’t feel the same this time. It didn’t matter at all because it shattered this illusion you had about the amount of trust you two shared. You hadn’t thought it was a large amount to begin with, so reality informing you that you were going overboard, it sucked.

He’d only let you pout about it for two weeks before he stopped indulging your bratty behavior—but those two weeks came after an entire week of not seeing him, so you felt justified. It started simple and he probably would have let you get away with it longer had you not continued to push it further and further.

You simply weren’t doing things that you were supposed to be doing. He wanted you to text him when you woke up and when you were turning in for the night. You stopped texting him in the morning after the fourth consecutive morning text that he didn’t directly respond to. You hadn’t noticed it, honestly. Normally, you would text him something along the lines of ‘good morning’ and he would respond almost immediately. Unless he was busy, so you hadn’t been too caught off guard when it happened the first three times. He’d texted you later in the day, just to make sure you were okay, but nothing beyond that.

So, the fourth text didn’t say good morning. It said ‘I miss you. How have you been?’ And he didn’t respond again. He texted four hours later and told you that he was just given a case that was a big deal. That didn’t seem odd. He always told you which cases he got, which cases he wanted and were hoping for if another DA was taken off.

The next morning, when you were about to text him, you didn’t like the feeling in your stomach. You didn’t like that it felt like that was him telling you that he was going to need more space. Fine—he could have space. You were an adult and you could take him needing space, he should have just come right out and said it. You hated that he was treating you like an overly emotional child who couldn’t be told the truth. So, you didn’t text him.

But you were too scared not to tell him when you were going to bed, not until the sixth day. He sent you a bag. A fucking bag. He thought that was a sufficient apology for pushing you away. He ended up calling you at two in the morning and you just let it ring. You sat there, watching, not at all itching to answer. Though, you did want to hear his voice.

You had decided to deal with it in the morning. He called twice more, and you knew that if he had called just once more, you would have answered. You didn’t like how you were feeling. You didn’t like how the bag made you feel, how the secrecy made you feel, how you felt not taking his calls, not getting texts from him.

It was confusing, but also black and white. You knew why you were upset, but you were lost on what you were supposed to do. You were helpless, and you hated yourself for letting this become more than it was supposed to be. He was your fucking sugar daddy, why did you even care if you weren’t seeing him? He was still putting the money into your account. So, why did it matter?

Your solution was to act like not texting him wasn’t a big deal. You could tell he was concerned because you never did that, but you tried to brush it off. He told you it was, and as nice as Andy was, he let you know in very certain terms that it better not become a habit.

Meaning your tactics had to change. Your texts were cold, if you sent them at all—minus the obligatory morning and night messages that you decided were not going to be the hill you died on. It was like he had become aware of your existence again, he would text you throughout the day and ask how you were, ask what you were doing, ask if you needed anything. You responded about thirty percent of the time and the answers were all the same. You were fine. You were doing nothing, or maybe cleaning, maybe homework, maybe you were about to work out and you couldn’t talk. And no, you didn’t need anything.

That must have been hard for him to hear. He liked spoiling you, he liked showering you with expensive gifts, but the bag must have been the only hint he needed. He scaled way back, sent you flowers a few times, cupcakes here and there.

After three weeks of not seeing him, he called and said he wanted to take you to dinner. You didn’t entertain the idea of saying no. You were tired, you figured it would just cause something huge, so, you were going. He told you what to wear.

You didn’t. You wore what you wanted, or well, just the opposite, of what he told you to wear. He’d wanted to see you looking sweet and delicate because he truly missed that. He missed his sweet girl, blushing when he kissed you everywhere, or just clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough of him. You decided to wear black—a funeral was fast-approaching anyway, you assumed.

He took you home after dinner because you claimed you just didn’t feel well. You claimed you were stressed about school, that midterms were coming up and had a few things that you needed to spend a little extra time on. He didn’t argue, he just kissed the top of your head and waited until you were inside before driving off.

It was smaller things after that. Wear a jacket. Don’t wear those shoes, you know you can’t walk in them. Get some rest. Don’t eat chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. Anything he told you, you would proceed to do the opposite. Sometimes, you didn’t make it known to him. It was just you trying to regain some type of power that you were lacking.

You knew that this behavior had him completely baffled and to talk about it was an invitation to talk about everything. If you managed to ask him something before he asked you and he didn’t want to answer, that would set a tone that you could also withhold information from him as well. He knew he was tight rope walking with this, so he was going to continue without trying to solve anything until he had the full solution.

Which, apparently, came to him on a dreadful Sunday morning—the fourth Sunday, as a matter of fact, after you had gone to his house to fuck him all so he would feel less stressed; if you sounded bitter, good, you were.

He called—and woke you up—and you answered it because he never ever called in the mornings. “Hello?” You quickly sat up in search of another device that would tell you the time.

“Be ready in an hour.”

“What?” you sighed. There was no panic in his tone, so nothing bad was happening. In fact, he didn’t have that ‘we need to talk’ Andy tone either. “Why? Andy, I’m sleeping. Haven’t you been telling me to sleep more lately?”

“Changed my mind,” he explained. “An hour.”

“Andy,” you huffed, “I don’t feel well.”

“Are you sick?” His tone changed from that firm, non-compromising one he had been speaking to you with since you stopped behaving to an overly concerned one that made you heart ache just a little.

“No,” you blurted out. Because then he would come over and you didn’t want that. You didn’t want him picking and choosing aspects of this relationship. It was all or nothing. It was an equal arrangement meaning essentially just a relationship with the added, little rules he put in place for your continued income, or it was just a sugar baby, sugar daddy thing and he didn’t get to take care of you. Ever.

“Then what’s the problem?” he pressed.

“I…I’m just tired.”

“I’ll get you coffee.”

You weren’t getting out of this, not without a fight. And as much as you were backing away right now, you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want a fight because you were sure that he would leave. For real and for good.

“Okay…what should I wear?”

“Something simple. We’ll be outside.”

“Eww.”

He scoffed. “Leave the attitude in your apartment, understood?”

You very much understood. You knew that he knew this was different, that was why he wasn’t reacting with sex. He knew something was up and you could either just drop this and let things go on or you could push and push until he broke and resolved the issue—the issue probably being you. “I understand.”

“Great, see you soon.”

Jeans, sweater, no makeup—he said simple. When he came up to your apartment, he was also dressed simple but looked a hell of a lot better than you. And he was wearing a white sweater, any fight you had left in you was right out the window.

He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. He kissed the top of your head briefly before tucking you under his jaw. He was good at making you feel bad. You didn’t like being mean to him. You didn’t enjoy it, no matter how upset with him you were.

So, you apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You scoffed. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “But I am curious…”

“I just miss you sometimes,” you claimed. “And I try to create distance because I hate missing you. I guess I just don’t want to get used to seeing you every day, it’s hard to adjust when you’re busy.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He tightened his arms around you. “It’s my fault, there’s no excuse for not making time for you.”

“No, it’s fine. You have a family—”

“I have an ex-wife and a son that’s legally an adult.”

“You have a job.”

“I have you,” he insisted. “And you are so fucking beautiful. Anyone in this world would call me an idiot for not getting every second I possibly can with you.”

“Ugh,” you buried your face in his chest, “stop. Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, right. Well…” He took your shoulders and pushed you away slightly. “I know you’re a little weird about spending time with me…when I’m with Jacob.”

“Andy,” you warned.

You must have looked so panicked because that man had the audacity to laugh. “Listen, you like Halloween, I like spending time with my son. Additionally, I like spending time with you and vice versa… In short, we’re going to a pumpkin patch.”

You slowly narrowed your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“I don’t want to…force myself into his life, Andy.”

“I know. He knows. Trust me.”

“You promise he won’t be upset? You don’t have a lot of time and you spend most of it with me, I don’t want to take you away from him. Ever.”

“Baby, he’s eighteen. He doesn’t want time with me.”

You scoffed.

“I promise he will not be upset. I asked him almost fifty times just last night, in total, it’s probably three times that.”

The car ride wasn’t silent, but it was quiet. You didn’t talk much because Andy and Jacob were, all you did was watch the trees. You didn’t get out of town much and as beautiful as most parts of Massachusetts were during the fall, there was something particularly comforting about the areas outside.

Upon arriving, in mere minutes, you discovered how popular Andy was. He was stopped every few seconds by someone new, some people that you had seen around town, others that you had not. It was probably the seventh time when Jacob tapped your elbow with his and nodded you off to the side.

You followed mostly out of curiosity. Jacob was like his father in many ways. Particularly, you noticed that they were both…if you were being kind and not too blunt: detail-oriented. Because of this, Jacob needed to find the perfect pumpkin and he didn’t want to stand around while his dad was talking.

You tried to help but it was clear after a few suggestions that you were not as serious about this as Jacob. You’d only ever been to a pumpkin patch once before and you had been beyond drunk. “So…” you began after an extended amount of silence, “Last year of high school.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it…fun?”

He scoffed. “Fun?”

“I don’t know, man. I didn’t finish high school.”

“Really? My dad says you’re smart.”

“It just wasn’t for me,” you explained. High school sucked, the people sucked. College was way more in line with your interests—less rape culture, more educated discussion. That sort of deal. “Got my GED and then started college when I felt like it.”

“Oh… Well, it’s okay. Has its moments, I guess.”

“So, are you going to college?” You were not trying to be sneaky. You were just trying to talk to Jacob because it was clear that this was something that Andy felt was important. If you found out some information that had yet to be shared with you, fine. But that was not why you were talking to Jacob.

“I applied, I’m just not sure yet. My dad wants me to stay here.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, understatement.”

He smiled a little. “We could be going to the same school.”

You lifted your eyebrows at him.

He smirked. “Come on, that’s kind of funny.”

“It’s kind of weird.”

He laughed.

You glanced back to make sure Andy wasn’t lingering. He so would. “Look, I’m not asking you this because of your dad. I’m just nosy—do you want to go to Oregon? I mean, personally, I think there’s something wrong with anyone if they want to leave Massachusetts for Oregon!”

“Right?” he scoffed. “It’s insane… I’m sure I’ll stay. My whole life is here. Maybe it doesn’t need to be in Newton, but this is where I want to settle down, I think. Get married, have kids…my childhood was perfect. I just hate that my mom is going.”

“Right, yeah…that sucks. I’m sorry.” You pointed to a pumpkin and he gave you a pitiful look. “So…does your mom, like…know…”

He lifted his eyebrows. “About you?”

“Yeah…”

“A bit. I mean, she’s asked me some questions even though I didn’t bring it up to her. Questions I couldn’t answer because I don’t know anything about you…”

“Yeah…yeah, sorry, that’s my fault. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m kinda glad my dad is dating again. I didn’t think it was ever going to happen. But my mom dated, like, six months after the divorce was finalized, probably before that.”

You couldn’t imagine how much that had hurt Andy. You hated even thinking about it. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her, though.”

“Probably not. Some people get married because they just want to, but I think my parents thought they were going to be together forever.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling whenever he talks about it.”

“He likes you, though—”

“Oh, my god,” you blurted out. Now you were uncomfortable. “We do not need to talk about this.”

“I’m just saying, it’s cool and I’m not uncomfortable. And you didn’t hear this from me…but I think my dad is going to ask you to move in.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “He’s being weird…I don’t know how to explain it.”

Okay, that was completely not happening. After all this time, him pushing you away, the absolute last thing he was going to suggest was that you live with him. No, no way, Jacob was mistaken. Maybe Andy had another sugar baby that Jacob was thinking about. That would make more sense than him asking you to move in.

Absolutely not.

Jacob found his perfect pumpkin and listen, you loved Halloween, but they all mostly looked the same. When he figured you had no “vision” when it came to this, he took the liberty of finding you the perfect one and then another for Andy. Since Andy was still being the most popular man in Massachusetts, that left you and Jacob carrying all three pumpkins to the car.

Your grand plan was to set the pumpkins on top of one another, he would hold one, you would hold another, and if you guys just stayed together close enough, you wouldn’t drop the one in the center. When Andy found you, you both had given up and were covered in dirt from having fallen several times. You were sat on the ground, facing one another, the pumpkins between you two as you spoke about favorite scary movies.

The drive back to the house consisted of Andy talking about his favorite horror films, most of which neither you nor Jacob had heard of. That was the setup for the movie nights that occurred nearly every night up until Halloween. Which you knew would make Andy possibly the happiest man in Massachusetts.

Spending time with Jacob wasn’t as scary as you had convinced yourself it would be. He seemed to like you a little, at least enough that he didn’t mind you dating his dad. He also seemed a lot more willing to share things than his father was, which you never took advantage of. Anything Jacob told you was unprompted and only in response to you sharing about your life after he’d asked you to.

Which was how you found out about…a lot. There was always this gap in Jacob’s life that Andy never spoke about. Ever. You’d realized it early on, maybe from years thirteen to sixteen. You had thought it was weird but of course, you weren’t going to bring it up. And still, you wouldn’t bring it up to him that you knew about some things he probably didn’t want you knowing about.

Andy knew how to spoil you during this season and not in the traditional way. It was probably a reward for getting along with Jacob so well, but when he told you that he was taking you to the Halloween store and that you could decorate his house, it was better than most things he’d given you.

Jacob was amused because apparently, they didn’t decorate for Halloween beyond a few pumpkins. So, all while lecturing Andy about the importance of decorating for Halloween and how the holiday was going to die out if people didn’t fucking decorate, you both made up the front yard. You insisted on spiders, everywhere, on the yard, on the house, in the trees. And against Andy’s strongest wishes, you wanted animatronics. There were creepy, laughing zombie-children and your absolute favorite, a doghouse with a dog that jumped out if motion was detected. Andy had forgotten that a couple of times…and would promptly glare at you after he was given the reminder.

But even though he pretended this was nothing, that this was just him indulging you, he was happy with how happy you were. It had been quite a while since he last saw you smiling or laughing, save for the few pictures of you he’d managed to take and liked to look at on days you gave him nothing of the sort.

On the night of Halloween, Jacob had plans. A party, Andy told you. You arrived when Jacob was leaving, and had no idea what his costume was supposed to be but you didn’t want to ask because you were sure he would just make a joke about how you were spending too much time with his old father.

Andy had long ago established one major rule. You weren’t allowed to text when you were with him. It wasn’t so much this weird thing where he was forbidding you from something you wanted, it was more that he was paying for your time and he wanted to be present. You didn’t think it was crossing a line, so often, you obliged.

Tonight, however, he was anything but present. He didn’t mind that your friends were filling you in on the party that you had to miss, he didn’t start any conversations, and most of your attempts were met with, if anything, short responses.

You were on the floor, sitting with your legs lengthened out under the coffee table. Andy was on the couch, staring at the television screen, or the wall maybe, but you could tell he wasn’t seeing anything. Well, there was one thing he wouldn’t miss from a mile away.

“Stop eating candy, you’re not going to want dinner when it gets here.”

That was = the most aware thing he’d said all night. You glanced at him as you sneakily tried to toss another bite-sized Snickers into your mouth without him noticing. He did notice and gave you one of his tired, lawyer looks.

Scream, that was your pick, and you were sure he hadn’t paid a single second of attention. That was just about enough for you. You set your phone on the table and crawled to Andy. He eyed you almost suspiciously as you grabbed onto his arm and used it to pull yourself onto the couch. You draped your back over his thighs. “Pay attention to me.”

He scoffed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m so distracted tonight. I’m just thinking about Jake.”

“More about Oregon?”

“No, not that. He’s just…on a date tonight. His first date, actually.”

You sat up, staring at Andy incredulously. “His first date? He’s eighteen!”

“Yeah…I don’t know, there just wasn’t a lot of time for it before. He was…pretty busy for a while.”

Right. You just nodded and settled back against the couch. All things considered, Jacob was a fairly normal kid. And Andy was a fairly normal dad, save for the part where he was around and liked his kid—but by perfect, television terms, he was fairly normal.

“What?”

You looked at him, shrugging. “Nothing, I’m just…surprised. I mean, he’s your son, so he’s perfect. He’s a complete sweetheart—”

He shrugged. “Girls that age aren’t interested in that.”

You snorted. “Oh, they aren’t?”

“You aren’t.”

“You are sweet.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m not a religious person, but sometimes, after the things I do to you, I’m sure hell has to exist. If only for men like me.”

“You’re sweet after,” you reminded.

He pulled you back down, setting your back to his legs again. He began touching your face, tracing your cheekbones, jawline, your lips. “I think I like taking care of you. A lot.”

You hummed. “Is that what this is? Jacob’s too old, so you’re coping with an empty nest by getting a sugar baby?”

“I guess.”

You laughed. “Most men just get a dog.”

He gave you a look. “You asking me for a dog?”

“No!” you scoffed. “Andy, don’t. You know if you tried to get me just one, you’d bring home an entire shelter.”

He took one of your hands and kissed over every knuckle. You couldn’t stop watching his lips, the way they pursed just slightly.  “You know, we’ve almost been doing this for a year.”

Not entirely, but close. Very close. The holidays always went by so fast; you were going to blink and suddenly, it would just be here. But you hadn’t forgotten what Jacob had said, it was usually on your mind because you needed to be ready to stop him before he as much as mentioned it.

No, you didn’t suddenly believe Jacob, but you were terrified. You were constantly worried about losing Andy and this would be a guaranteed quick and messy end. It couldn’t happen. You scoffed. “A year? Soon enough you’re going to have to trade me in for someone younger.”

He smiled a little, it wasn’t sincere. He didn’t want that comment, he wanted something else. He wasn’t sure what, nor were you.

You sat up, averting your gaze to the screen. Neve Campbell was being chased by a murderer and you still would have traded spots with her in that moment. “A year’s not really that long.”

“Longer than most people with our…arrangement.”

“Yeah, probably.” It wasn’t like you would know. You didn’t have friends who did this, you didn’t do it before Andy. You just went in blindly, which you were now realizing, was stupid. You should have set more boundaries; you should have been more careful.

“You want out?”

Your head snapped back to him. “What?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, I don’t.” You were irritated that he would suggest something like that. Had you done or said anything that would make him think that? You were sure the answer was no. Because that was the last thing you wanted.

When it came down to it, what you wanted was this. Exactly this. You wanted to stay. Right in this spot, right in this date, right in this dynamic. If nothing ever moved, you were sure that you and Andy could be just fine forever. But soon, time was going to take its toll on the two of you.

“Do you?” you pressed.

“No,” he promised. “Not even a little.”

You turned away again, crossing your legs and turning just slightly away from Andy.

“Hey.”

You were so done with this night; it was not turning out at all like you’d hoped it would. It was Halloween—why all the emotional bullshit?! Couldn’t you both just sit down and watch a fucking movie?

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to him again.

“I don’t,” he insisted. “You are so god damn beautiful. I would be out of my mind if I wanted out. You know how I feel about you…and if you don’t, if you need the reminder, let me know right now, I’ll show you.”

You shook your head, taking his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. You leaned into him, curling up in a ball and getting as close as you could. “I don’t need a reminder, just…don’t ask me that.”

“I just want to make sure I’m giving you everything you want.”

“I’ll let you know if I want out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of your head.

You laid your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him. “Who’s Jacob out with?”

“Her name’s Sarah. She’s sweet…she’s been a really good friend to him over the past few years.”

You smiled. “Yeah, he mentioned her.”

He hummed. “Well, aren’t you two getting along quite well?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re least attractive when you’re so smug. Obviously, we’re getting along. Our star signs usually do.”

He smirked. “So, what else has he told you?”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “I’m just wondering. You don’t want to tell me?”

“No, that’s not it…it just doesn’t matter, not really. It doesn’t change anything for me.”

Andy’s gaze moved forward, toward the TV once again but still not watching any of it. “He told you about the murder.”

“A little. Just…the basics. He didn’t know I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine, it’s his right to talk about it. I’m sorry, I wasn’t keeping it from you, if you had asked me about it, I wouldn’t have lied.”

“Well, I never would have,” you admitted.

He looked at you. “You can.”

“It doesn’t matter, Andy.”

“I was scared, I guess. That you would have a different opinion than the court.”

“No,” you promised. Not possible—not with Jacob, not with Andy. “I trust you, Andy.”

He kissed your head again. “I know, I’m just paranoid. Believe it or not, though I’m not very good at it, I do want you to feel comfortable asking me about my life, including all the boring parts before you. I want you to feel like you can talk to me.”

You scoffed only because the reality of it made you feel awkward. “Okay…I do.” That was probably the first time you ever completely lied to him. You bent the truth sometimes, but never as much as this.

If he didn’t believe you, he didn’t say it. Instead, he just leaned into you and kissed your temple.

Okay, tension aside, you did miss him. You liked hanging out with Jacob, he was funny, and it always made Andy so happy, but wow, you missed him fucking you. To create boundaries, you rarely spent the night on movie nights, only when it reached AM hours and you knew Andy wasn’t going to let you drive home. But on those nights, you merely slept next to each other.

It had been a while. Something he was obviously feeling as well, proven by the hand sliding up your bare thigh.

“You ordered food,” you reminded. And yeah, you were just trying to play hard to get. You wore a skirt; you honestly hadn’t thought he would last this long without fucking you.

“Don’t care.” His hand continued but instead of touching you where you needed him to, he abruptly grabbed your hip and jerked you up so he could position you on your knees.

You pressed your hands to the arm of the couch, trying to quiet your breathing. Maybe this night could be salvaged.

Hands on your hips, he let them roam over your body as he pressed himself to your back. He kissed your face again before whispering, “What does my good girl want?”

“Your cock, daddy, please. Just fuck me.”

He hummed. “You don’t want me to take my time tonight—?”

“Please, no,” you whined. “It’s been too long, daddy.”

He reached down and you felt him shoving his pants down. “You remember what you did last week?”

So…you might have been feeling particularly bratty one night. You’d ended up heading to bed before Andy because he had some emails he needed to respond to before the weekend. In waiting for him, you got bored. You stripped completely naked, got yourself off, and then went to bed. You knew damn well he was going to be able to smell it when he walked in, and it wasn’t like you tried to hide that you were naked. Then, you were gone before he woke up to punish you for it. You hadn’t spent the night since then, intentionally, of course, and he knew it.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t remember.”

He scoffed. “You don’t remember trying to tease me?”

“I don’t remember that,” you insisted. “I would never try to tease you, daddy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, an exhausted sound because if there was anything that you were down for at any given moment of the day, it was teasing Andy.

You turned over your shoulder, looking at him with the most innocent eyes. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

For a split second, it looked like he wanted to believe you, that he wanted to believe that you were as innocent as you looked. Then you smirked and he remembered that there was not an ounce of innocence in you. Rolling his eyes, he delivered a half-hearted smack to your ass.

You yelped in surprise, turning forward again to make sure you had a solid hold on the couch.

“You’re lucky I ordered food, or I would spank you until that apology was sincere.”

Oh, you could stop while you were ahead, but… “Daddy, if you ever spank me and I apologize, it’s not sincere. I just want you to fuck me.”

He was silent for a long time, probably shocked by your boldness. “Baby girl…”

His tone was full of warning, you should have been scared, but… You bit your lip to stifle your laugh.

“Baby,” he tried again, sounding just about completely fed up with your shit. He set both hands on your ass and you startled, that was when he knew you were just playing with him. You knew who was in charge and it was not you, not when you were here. “You’re not going to be able to walk after I’m done with you.”

Anything you wanted to say was instantly forgotten when he pressed his fingers to your core. You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into the couch.

He started to run his fingers in soft, agonizingly slow circles around your clit. He didn’t say a word as he coaxed you toward your first finish of the night, not until you were almost. “You gonna come, baby?”

You hummed unintelligibly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Instead of letting you, he pulled his hand away and folded his body over yours. You could feel his cock against your leg, so deliciously hard. He circled his arm around you, sliding his wet fingers into your mouth.

He took no time before he shoved them in too deep, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged but he continued to press his fingers in more, more, more, until you were choking around them. “I love that sound, baby girl.”

He kept his fingers down your throat as he started to press his cock into you. You eagerly spread your legs as wide as the couch would allow, silently pleading for more. Slowly, he fed you his cock by the inch, you were shivering, high and mindless. It was when his hips were flush against yours that your arms gave out.

This angle was new, a new sensation, a new stretch. You had missed Andy, his touch, the looks he gave you when he fucked you, the looks he gave when you had your mouth or hand around him. But that ache you felt between your legs long after he pulled out, that was one of your favorite things, one of the only things that could comfort you when your mind wouldn’t stop overanalyzing every little thing about Andy.

You pressed the side of your face to the arm of the couch and he began thrusting hard. His free arm curled around your hip, fingers seeking out your clit. You were instantly back at that high, wound-up place, body screaming for an orgasm. His fingers slipped over your skin clumsily because of how wet you were, but well enough that your body was arching and your eyes were rolling back.

You only knew Andy was close because he pulled his hand from your pussy and grabbed a handful of your hair. He yanked you back until you were standing on your knees, your back to his chest. You cried out for him, a sound muffled by his fingers still sliding back and forth along your tongue.

“Touch your clit, princess,” he directed, voice so soft and so quiet.

Your hand shot to your cunt, messy swipes around your most sensitive skin. His cock was pounding into you, hard enough that you could barely keep your hand pressed to where you needed it.

When he hit that blissful spot, made the bright spots appear behind your eyes, you started to suck on his fingers. You did whatever you could to stifle the pathetic moans and pleas that would be falling from your lips if your mouth weren’t so preoccupied.

The noises of him pushing and pulling, his cock driving up as deep as possible, filled the room. You hummed around his fingers, he pressed his mouth to your shoulder and groaned.  You were both so close, so painfully wound up and eager to come.

Once you tightened around him, it triggered his finish. Though he moved erratically, he never stopped, even as he began to sit back down and brought you with him. His thrust turned slow, almost soft as he pulled his fingers from between your lips.

You thought he would undress you, finally lay you down and take his time—but no, of course not. He let you sit on his lap, but one thing was clear, his cock was going to stay inside you until he wanted.

He gabbed your jaw and turned your head back to him, lips sweetly pressing against yours. There was no urgency in his movements—he kissed and touched you slowly, like he had all the time in the world for it.

You were confused why he kept you there, at least until the doorbell rang. Then, it became clear what he wanted from you. He got you onto your feet with both hands on your hips, enjoying the way his cum was already spilling out of your pussy.

“Go answer the door, baby.”

You gave him a wide-eyed look. No, no way.

He nodded. “Get the door, gorgeous, I’m not going to tell you again.”

You were humiliated as you walked to the door on shaky legs. The man delivering your pizza probably had no idea why you were so red and why you sounded like you just ran a mile, but it was still mortifying. With each second ticking by, you could feel his cum dripping onto your thighs.

You couldn’t sleep.

After Andy fucked you, generally, you slept like a baby. This time, your mind was too busy despite your body being utterly exhausted.

It was raining, you could hear the steady patter on the roof of the house and the porch by Andy’s bedroom. He had suspected it would so he brought in the animatronics because he knew how upset you would be if they got damaged. You liked that about him, that he was so practical. You never would have thought to do it yourself.

You went to the kitchen first, just to get some water and more candy without Andy’s judgmental gaze. You checked the driveway to see if his car was back, he’d let Jacob borrow it. You didn’t understand how Jacob was so well-behaved—he was 18, yet still had a curfew. Those Barber men were a different breed.

The moon was out, shining bright enough that you could see most of the backyard. You sat on the floor in the doorway of the back, listening to the sound of the rain. It was comforting enough that your brain finally stopped moving. For a moment, your relationship wasn’t so scary, you didn’t feel like everything was about to go wrong. The rain was falling heavily, once it hit the pavement, it splashed back onto your skin.

Andy found you after almost an hour, immediately fussing about what you were doing. “Baby, you’re going to get sick.” He wrapped a blanket around you and closed the door. “What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He sat down next to you, leaning close to adjust the blanket around your shoulders. “Everything okay?”

No, not really. This had been coming for a long time and there was no reason why it shouldn’t happen tonight. “Everything’s fine… I’m just wondering, what happened with Laurie?”

He was quiet for a long time, contemplating something. “Well, I’m pretty sure that Jacob wants to stay—”

“Yeah, obviously. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know until recently.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me that? That’s what the attitude was about, Andy. It wasn’t only that I missed you. It was that you told me about it at all and I didn’t ask you to, I wanted you to, but I did not ask you to let me in like that. That was your choice. Then, I come here and let you fuck me and then you don’t tell me what happened. It felt like you didn’t want me to know, like I was only important to a very certain extent.”

“I didn’t want you to feel that way at all—”

“Then why?”

“Because I said something I didn’t mean.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“To Jacob and Laurie.”

“About me?”

“No, not…entirely. I was scared, okay? I thought he wanted to go. So, I told him that if he wanted to, then I would go, too.”

You only sat there for a few seconds, dumbly staring at him. Then, you were on your feet and throwing the blanket onto the floor. You weren’t mad, not initially. It was that gross fear feeling that you’d been experiencing far too often for your liking lately. That was what made you angry. “What the fuck?”

He looked exhausted as he stared up at you. “Baby—”

“Don’t.” He was not going to start using pet names and talking to you in those deep tones just to get you to forget about this. You’d never felt disposable to Andy before that moment, but now you did and you couldn’t just get over it.

“I did not mean it.”

“You did,” you accused. “You didn’t tell me because you meant it and you thought Jacob wanted to go. You were going to leave, and you weren’t planning on telling me that you wanted to leave—”

“I did not and do not want to leave—”

“But you were going to. Willingly, you were going to move to Oregon. No one was forcing you to move, Andy! You’re the one that offered it. I’m sure Laurie didn’t want you to go and Jacob wasn’t considering it, because moving out of this state is just insanity, but you were going to because no matter what, at the end of the day, it’s all about you holding on to this idea of your perfect fucking family.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“You have a job here, a fucking house, but you would just pack up and leave because your ex-wife and your adult son want you to. That’s a problem, okay? That’s completely unstable for me. And I need stability.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that we did this wrong. We should have been a lot stricter about what we were. We got too comfortable with one another, and we should have kept it more professional. If you had left, I’d be completely fucked. You just made this huge decision, and that’s fine, it’s your life, but you didn’t tell me.”

“Because I did not mean it,” he repeated slowly, finally standing up so he could reach out to you.

You shook your head, turning away from him. “Don’t.”

“Stop making this a big deal.”

It was a huge deal, that he didn’t see that was utterly frustrating. However, you were done. You had to start being practical. This was anything but. Continuing with the relationship at this point was just stupid. You couldn’t do it anymore. You would have to be an adult and go back to acting like one — the job, the pills, all that bullshit.

He sighed. “Baby girl, please—”

“I’m going home,” you announced.

“No, you’re not,”

You took a deep breath before you looked at him. You’d made up your mind and the finality was clear on your face. “I’m going home, Andy.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I need some space.”

“Please.”

“I have to go,” you decided. “I’ll see you around.”

His eyes widened slightly at that. Around? No date? No time? That was all you were offering, and he knew that it wasn’t just space you were asking for. He wasn’t worried about your ability to keep it going, he knew he was going to wear you down eventually. But how long would that take?

He didn’t want space. He wanted the exact opposite, he wanted you so much fucking closer. He wasn’t sure why you were doing this, why you were pulling away, but you weren’t going to budge tonight. Any attempts he made would just be added to his debt. He longed for the earlier times when he could just buy you off.

tag requests: @donutloverxo​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @onetwo3000​ @youwilllove​

[blkgirl-writing]

To Leave A Broken Soul

Laurie Laurence x F!Reader Smut

Summary: Laurie can't help falling fast for you, a woman who can only stay for a month or two. How will the last day together end?

Warnings: SMUT! ANGST! oral (male receiving), Fingering, some fluff, basically fulfilling all the requests I got in one fic.

1.5k words

°°°°°°°°°

The way Laurie looked at you was something you had seen by many of men. A deep, internal longing.

You sat on the floor, leaning against the end of Laurie's wooden bed. Admittedly, the you had been sitting there in silence for what seemed like hours. Fiddling with each others fingers, him shamelessly lifting your shirt off so he could touch his "favorite part of your body"

Laurie had been staring at the blank wall for quite some time now, sighing dramatically every few moments. Eventually, he reached into his pant pocket, coming up with a hand rolled cigarette of some sorts, and a lighter. His loose poet's shirt, with a few buttons undone, fell ever so slightly off his shoulder, exposing the pale, glowing skin.

"I heard it makes time slow" he suggested, turning the item in his fingers a few times, before taking it in his lips, and lighting the end. His head leaned back against the wooden board. And lord, his profile was one of the gods. Hair messy and eyes low, effortlessly beautiful.

After a minute or two, he handed it to you, lazily looking over to your face, then eyes drawing to your bare chest. The way he licked his lips didnt go unnoticed by you.

You willingly pushed the joint into your lips, a somewhat familiar smoke flooding into your mouth, and flowing out just as soon as it entered. Laurie watched as your lips parted for another puff, intent on how your eyes fluttered shut. The way the sunlight caught on your lashes, dancing around you skin, the illusion of a greek goddess appearing right in front of him. Aphrodite. The sight of you being of pure sex, pure beauty. Love.

"Take a photograph, love. It will last longer," you tilted your head to the boy, offering the joint back to him, lips pressed into a sly smirk as his cheeks grew a rosey pink. Ah, how you loved to tease the witty, charming man.

"Why do you call me love when you insist on leaving me," laurie muttered, like a outing child denied of candy. He took a long drag, letting the smoke rest in his lungs for a few long moments. "It doesnt make any sense."

"There's worlds out there I have yet to see, love. People I have yet to fuck. Theatres I have yet to perform in." You smiled weakly. He could never understand. You knew this from the day you get him. To him, you were an unsolved mystery he dedicated endless works to unravel. "I'm a natural nomad as much as a lover, as much as a performer. I love a man or woman with each place, and call it by their name from that point on. Memories can mean so much more than reality."

"I don't think I can see any womans breast without thinking of you," Laurie stated.

"Surely you'll sleep with enough women to forget my body,"

"A man never forgets perfection." You hummed at that, lips pressing into a smile.

"Why don't we create a memory right now?" Your movements were slow, calculated, sensual. A leg draping over his hips, your crotch pressed against his, as you slowly pressed kisses from his jaw, down to his neck.

Laurie's breath was heavy in his chest, hands frozen like the first time he had been with you. But he said your name like a prayer, to keep going, to never stop.

Your fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, carefully running the tips of your nails down his chest, lips trailing not far behind.

His hands finally went to touch you, as you undid the buckle of his belt, and pushed aside the fabric covering his cock. He was already painfully hard for you, precum leaking hopelessly down. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Quite needy, hm?"

"Always," he muttered, impatiently. But fast cut off by the intense pleasure that wrapped his whole body as you took his cock into your wet mouth, bottoming out and gagging ever so slightly. So wet and warm, and tight. Fuck.

Your head bobbed at an agonizing pace, hands rubbing his thighs. Eyes fixed on his, though, admittedly wandering to his lips occasionally, seeing the way he bit into them, fighting the urge to tell the whole world how fucking good you were at this.

It didnt take him long until he grabbed you chin, lifting your lips away from him in a desperate plea to stop before he came down your throat. Oh, you had taught him well. Always pleasure the woman with the same about that she gives you, if not more.

He lead you lips to his, tasting himself on you, bucking his length into your covered heat. Slyly inching his hand down into your underwear, slipping a finger gently into you. Pumping slowly into your pussy with a blessed "come here" motion.

Shamelessly, you moaned into the ever lasting kiss as he added another finger. Rocking your hips into his touch, grinding down into his palm.

"Fuck, f-faster. Laurie, you have to go faster" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting down on the pale skin.

"Hmm, quite needy." He repeated your words, teasing with a fox like grin on his face. Knowing you'd be annoyed at his cockiness. But you were far too turned on to care at this point.

The lust was thick in the air. His barely covered chest pressed against your cold, exposed one. His lips biting and nipping at your collar bone, that sweet, delicious spot that sent you over the edge, moaning in pure bliss as he pumped his nimble fingers through you high, purring sweet nothings as your body shook.

His eyes were blown when you looked down at him,

"I dont want this to end," he said, kissing your shoulder as you kicked off the remaining garment hanging from your hips. "I want to fuck you forever. I want to sip your sweet wine."

You didnt answer him. You didnt have an answer. The air hung dry with his wants, his needs. They wouldnt come true, both of you knew that. It had been obvious from the start of your friendship, relationship, thing. You were here for two months, then off to the next country. And yet Laurie still felt somewhat slighted. Like he wasnt good enough. And maybe he wasn't. He was childish and needy. But he was enough.

His lips caught yours again, devouring your essence like he had been starving for years. Hands digging into your hips like you would float away if he let go.

Laurie groaned as you grinded down on his cock, kissing you harder, bringing along with you, a plea to be able to be inside you.

Something you could easily comply with.

You snaked a hand in between you, grabbing his cock and leading it to your entrance, pausing for a moment, just to tease, before sinking down on him.

Laurie whimpered, a truly sinful sound. his teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he made short thrusts in you, craving your warmth, the movement.

Slowly, you grinded up and down on his dick, taking a fistful of his thick hair as you bottomed out. His hips shortly meeting yours, bucking further into you. A gasp fell from your lips as his tip pushed against your cervix, an uncomfortable yet so fucking good sensation.

"La..laurie. keep, keep doing that," you muttered, voice breathy and weak. He hummed, obviously pleased by the power shift. His short, unbelievably deep thrusts had tou both moaning each others names, lost in the moment of sharing each other, climaxes seconds away, before breaking in a harmonic beauty. Laurie spilled inside you for what felt like ages. If you didnt know better, you would've thought he hadn't had sex for years, and finally we was able to cum. The air was thick with sex, weary breaths and hot skin. His head now nuzzled in your neck, hands gently resting on your waist, your own fingers playing with his hair.

He didnt pull out of you until you both were able to look each other in the eyes.

"I'll miss this," you whispered, suddenly feeling empty without him inside you. "You're...really something, Laurie."

"If you don't leave right now, I won't be able to let go," Laurie's eyes pleased with you. The look of helplessness, saddness...it was too much. Tears trickled down his cheeks. You let out a forced laugh, kissing the trail of tears.

"If that's what you wish." Just like that, you threw back on or clothes lazily, and slipped out the door. Looking back for a split second, seeing his slumped body, eyes boaring into your form with fire and ice. A true Passion unknown to most.

"Goodbye, love."

[angelharness]

serious forewarning that this did not come out wholesome at all and is. pretty much entirely angst. heed the warnings!!

BLOOD AND ASPHALT

WARNINGS: plenty of blood, violence, medical inaccuracies 

LAURIE STRODE

Lampkin Lane.

You fall to the ground, a square of damp, flattened grass shielded by a picket fence; your fingers are shaking horribly but move with intent as you force open the plastic clasp of a medkit. You dig blindly through its contents which clink coldly — medical scissors, rolls of gauze, wound dressings, septics. You’re not familiar with these instruments and feel a new, fierce wave of anxiety setting in your system.

Your blood is hot, blooming fast across the fabric stuck to your side with a sick red. Adrenaline has muddled the pain mostly, but you can feel it wearing, subsiding to a gradual burn. 

There’s the damp squelching of muddy turf, footsteps, and you sit up straighter. 

You nearly scream when a figure rounds the corner, but your eyes settle quickly and your heart stills from its momentary fright. A strong face mellowed by tired blue eyes, gently tousled blonde hair. Laurie.

She exhales your name in a breath of relief, though that same breath is sucked back in when she sees your wound, raw and burning, glinting in the weak moonlight.

“Oh, oh no,” she starts, and falls to your side, already gently peeling your shirt up. The cold air stings at first, though its icy breath is soothing on the searing flesh. Your fingers curl around her wrist, “Laurie.”

She looks up at you questioningly, eyes gentle, caring, but sparking also with a will. 

You’ve only been here a short while (however that translates into this realms dubious system of time), but you know you can’t rely on others.

Bill pressed you on it, then David, mockingly, which still stung, and even Yui with a cold, “there’s not always gonna be someone around to help you.”

That’s true, of course, and such an unforgiving environment as this seems to favor selfishness for the sake of survival. That’s not to say altruism can’t bloom in these drab conditions, for you’ve seen it, sparse in occurrence but certainly present. But it certainly doesn’t thrive, and the climate of this realm is unfavorable. 

You don’t want to become reliant on your teammates, though — you don’t want to be a burden. Don’t want to weigh down your peers. 

“I’m fine,” you say after a pause for thought. “I can do it myself.”

Laurie looks uncertain, and rightfully; she’s been around much longer than you have, you’ve gathered, and you’ve seen how expertly she utilizes a toolbox. You, however, are clumsy and uncoordinated with your tools. Your fingers are inelegant, graceless, work sloppily over the exposed wires of a generator. Her hands move purposefully, familiarized. 

You don’t want Laurie to think you’re weak. You’d hope at that she’d scamper off so she wouldn’t have to watch you struggle to tear off a strip of gauze with your teeth, but she lingers, concerned.

“Just let me,” she insists. This time her voice is firmer. 

You suck in a shaky, pained breath. You’d rather not burn time quarreling while you bleed out at a concerning rhythm, but you don’t want to be rude, either. You turn away from her, lip caught painfully under your teeth to force down agonized whimpers. 

Laurie hisses your name, her hand on your shoulder. “Stop being so stubborn! Please, let me help you.”

It’s not anger when you swat her hand away and recoil. Not anger or malice the way you glare at her, but it must hurt. She retreats, then recomposes herself, brows lowering.

“Don’t worry about me,” you plead, softer. She’s moving her mouth, saying something, but it’s drowned out in a sudden, ripping scream. A mass of dark crows flit upward, disturbed, squawking chattily as they dart into the sky. Jane. 

You wince in sympathy, knowing well you never truly get used to the intrusion of the hook. It hurts to hell the first time and hurts still the hundredth time around. You collect yourself though, and take this chance.

“Go help her, I’ll heal up.”

It’s a fair plan. Laurie hesitates initially, then nods shortly and starts off in the direction of the dying wail. 

You watch after her for a moment then return to tending to your wound. The dregs of guilt set in your mind.

Laurie’s a veteran. Over the endlessly burning campfire she tells you about the ghoulish life she led even before the horror of the fog. She always eases it with jokes, “you know how brothers can be,” but you can tell it weighs heavily on her. She’s a tired soul. 

You don’t want her to look down on you, you don’t want her to see you as a teammate. You want something more, tangible and clear, stable, a taste of normalcy.

You pause. You know better than to think like that and try not to dwell on it, busying yourself with the medkit. Tearing open a set of cotton rounds, you unscrew the lid to what you make out to be a disinfectant. You’d prefer to clean the wound properly with warm water first, but you’ll have to make do.

It doesn’t hurt as much as anticipated, though it stings like high hell, but you can bear it through gritted teeth. You dab gently, don’t rub, then wait briefly for it to set in. You carefully apply an ointment over that, then dress it with gauze. Unsure and afraid of cutting off circulation, you wrap it loosely with some room to breathe. A bite of uncertainty tells you you’ve done something wrong, and while you know the pain won’t subside immediately, it’s worrying that it still aches. Throbs, almost. Burns. Your breaths are still unsteady.

It’s quiet. A crow perches on a picnic table beside you, observing you blandly. 

You stand and nearly cry, hand shooting to tentatively cradle the clothed wound. You’ve definitely done something wrong, but you can’t afford to waste more time redressing the skin. Blindly, you grope for the fence, using it to keep yourself upright as you trudge out to the sidewalk.

Jane’s on the hook, still, her hands clawing at the protruding hook, the steady current of blood blackening the pavement below her. Her makeup runs in muddy streaks down her wet cheeks. Where’s Laurie?

You don’t think to look around. The Entity’s system of hooked tendrils web above her, twitching in wicked anticipation, descending. Time is plentiful and endless but somehow there’s never enough.

You start across the street — through slight cries she says something. Your name, then, no, no, no. You don’t connect the dots in time.

A knife in your back, weaseling past the bone of your spine, splitting muscle. Hot, vivid pain, slices of white in your vision.

You can’t scream. Jane does for you, though it’s interrupted. The monstrous purr of The Entity. She grunts with effort, prying away a claw to gasp for air, its dark fingers stabbing at her sides. Your name again, strained.

The Shape looms above you, admiring his work wordlessly. Or perhaps he’s taunting you; it doesn’t translate well onto the mask, if so. You see the wet glint of a blue eye behind the pale rubber, and though it’s a familiar shade (Laurie, you realize) it’s not compassionate like her. It’s dead, dim. You choke.

Above, the dark sky splits, torn open by the spidering talons of this realms unsightly god. Stars wrinkle, the blue expanse folding over itself. Jane’s body is hoisted upward and swallowed into the canvas above, which pours back into place after her.

Michael doesn’t pick you up, to your surprise. You lie there, blinking through tears and grime, sweat on the hot skin of your cheeks. Realizing, frustratingly, he doesn’t want Laurie getting the hatch. He moves, almost entirely silent, along the rows of lawns. His form against the strobing lights of the police car casts a shadow onto the porches of houses as he passes by. He disappears into the brush.

He’s waiting for her. That’s why he left you in the street, your blood spilling slowly out onto the cracked asphalt. A trap, and you’re the unwilling bait.

The night is cold but the ground is hot on your injuries. You try not to move, squeezing your eyes shut. Bleeding out like this may be worse than the hook, you think hatefully, and you suppress little sobs, teeth carving into your bottom lip with how tightly you bite it. 

Laurie’s not dumb. In your head you beg, don’t come for me, just hide, hide, wait it out. You’ll bear the steady agony of a drawn out death if it means she can escape. Laurie’s not dumb. She’s familiar with his tricks, more than anyone else would be. 

You cry when you see her appear on the porch of a house, starting down the stairs, stumbling slightly, tearing across the turf to reach you. 

“Laurie, no,” you sob out. You don’t know if she can hear you; your heartbeat is squelching in your ears. You shake your head but it burns. 

She’s softened by empathy. An empathy unique only to you. It’s sweet. But stupid.

The Shape moves. His knife flickers, a slice of white, the reflection of his mask, a pale crescent, the moon. It slices down.

You cry out again hoarsely. Laurie dives, plunging into the dark concrete, skinning her palms and knees horribly but missing the wide strike of the blade.

She doesn’t make it in time for the second, corrective swing, which catches first in her wrist. Flesh tears. He yanks it out and it descends again, over his head, now colored with blood.

You shut your eyes fiercely, almost painfully, but her scream is horrible. It paints the scene all on its own, the knife, the open muscle.

Mercifully, it’s brief, then he’s lugging her limp figure over his shoulder and starting off in the direction of a hook. 

“Laurie,” you sob. She doesn’t move, mouth agape, sputtering, but her eyes flick in recognition. “Laurie.”

You say her name again and again till it’s painful. Your vision is darkening considerably, but it’s almost comforting. Relief, albeit temporary, is soon. The familiar crackle of the fire. You try to crawl, manage a few inches before you collapse on yourself and breathe shallowly into the floor.

Another scream. It’s worse than the first and you’re taken again by sobs. You force your breathing to even out but can’t help hiccuping and whimpering.

When you struggle your eyes open again, he’s standing in front of you. You can’t make yourself look up, don’t bother trying. You know what comes next and don’t fight when he picks you up and slings you over his shoulder.

Perhaps unintentional, or just to spit in your wounds, he grabs you by the side, fingers sinking into the torn flesh, still tender. It hurts but you’re drunk off of blood loss and can barely register that new flash of anguish. 

“Laurie.”

He stops for a moment. Or maybe he doesn’t (the worlds doing somersaults around you and your vision is reduced to vague shapes), but there’s hesitation. Then he continues. 

You hear the hum of the hatch, a continued note nearly heavenly. Another sob drips out of your throat.

He drops you a few feet from it, makes sure it hurts, leaving you winded and sputtering. He steps back, then, and watches blankly.

You’re not stupid. He’s pulled this stunt before. 

Your hands tighten into claws, raking handfuls of grass, streaking dirt under your nails. You glare at him between coughs, still shaking.

Does he find amusement in it? In gifting you that taunting sliver of false confidence? He’s never expressed it, if that’s the case, though it seems rather that he finds satisfaction in observing his work, the pain it wells.

You crawl toward it, ribs aching so vividly, blades of pain driving up your flesh as you weasel your way forward. Behind you you’ve left a wide streak of blood, almost glittering under the glare of the moon. 

It’s right there, the welcoming roll of black mist exhaling from its depths, the ascending chorus inviting. You don’t react when he slams the hatch shut. The siren gates sound. The collapse begins. 

You chuckle loopily. It spirals into sobs. Bloody and wet and choking. 

Oh, Laurie, you think fondly. She was trying to help. 

You watch Michael step around you, appear again at your side. It’s her blood on that knife. 

Weary, numbed by apathy, you squeeze your eyes shut once more and wait for the fog to roll in. 

[the-great-imagines-of-1812]

Mystery of Love~ A Jo March x fem!Reader imagine

This is for @my-morning-straightjacket , to hold her over until i publish the next part to ‘To Love Another’ :)

Song Used: Mystery of Love, by Sufjan Stevens (lyrics in italics)

Summary: Jo and Reader’s relationship, from beginning to end.

A/N: fluff, ANGST, then fluff again. happy ending. also, i highly recommend you listen to the song while reading for more effect. :)

~~~~~~

Oh, to see without my eyes The first time that you kissed me

 First Meeting: December 25, 1861.

You remember the day you met Josephine March so very well. Being a childhood friend of Laurie’s who moved to France to further your education in art, you visited your best friend as often as you could, often several times a year. He and his grandfather always welcomed you with open arms; his tutor less, as you often had a habit from distracting him from his studies to go to the music hall or some party.

Ever sine you had moved across the sea, away from your family, Laurie always kept up his letters. He had practically begged you to come visit for Christmas, staying a couple of weeks through the new year. 

You, of course, said yes. You were long overdue to visit the Laurence household, and your own family. It wasn’t your fault; this semester at the University had been a tough one, and you were glad to have a two month’s break. 

You arrived in Concord, Massachusetts, on the mid morning hours of Christmas Eve. Laurie had practically run to you, sweeping you into his arms and grabbing your luggage off the port. Both of you spent the entire day chattering, catching up on one another’s lives.

Boundless by the time I cried I built your walls around me

After you spent hours by the fire place talking about your semester at the University, it was Laurie’s turn to speak. He told you all about the March family next door, and the loveliest of the sisters, Jo March. By the way he spoke of her, he was practically in love. You could see it in his eyes. 

You will always be able to tell by someone’s eyes. 

The next morning, you talked away with Laurie’s grandfather, telling him all about Paris. 

It all happened to fast. One minute you were eating, and the next you were carrying your breakfast to the March Family’s house, since they had given up theirs to the poor Mrs. Hummel and her children. The family greeted you all as soon as you entered.

You stood in the corner, awkwardly, since you didn’t now anyone, with the exception of Laurie and his grandfather. That was until a blonde, bright-blue-eyed girl approached you, to introduce herself.

She held out her hand to you, and she was oh so welcoming and her voice sounded like home. You wanted to hear it for the rest of your life. 

“I’m Y/N Andrews, it’s nice to meet you. You must be Jo. Laurie’s told me all about you.” 

White noise, what an awful sound Fumbling by Rogue River

She grasped your hand firmly. “Oh, it so nice to meet you. I hope Laurie has said all good things. Is your family by any chance the publishing Andrews of New York?” she questioned.

You nodded. “It’s my Uncle’s business.”

She kept her gaze on you. She thought you were beautiful. “Interesting. How come I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I live and study in France, furthering my education in the art field. But Laurie’s a childhood friend of mine.”

“How intriguing! A woman with a career?”

You blushed and nodded. “Indeed. I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation between you two flowed so easily, and soon enough she introduced you to the rest of her family. You and Amy got along great, with you telling her all about your art career. You and Meg talked about your favorite dresses. And Beth was the most quiet, but shyly showed you a song on her piano. 

Feel my feet above the ground Hand of God, deliver me

You had to go back to France a few weeks into January, in order o go back for the new semester. But before you had left, you and Jo had exchanged addresses, and had sent so many letters back and forth. She would send you original poems and stories, all about - you. It was strange and new, and beautiful. She always made you blush. You couldn’t wait to see her again. 

That May, you had finished your time at the university and planned to move back to Concord to stay with your family, until you got your own job and were able to move out. 

Therefore, you and Jo were able to spend much more time together. Oh, you remember the day she kissed you in so much detail. She took you to a field of lavender, and confessed to you as you both were sitting down, enjoying the sunshine. 

She covered your hands with her own and you brought your face close to hers. You heart was beating so fast. She traced a gentle hand along your face. 

“Jo I-”

“Shh. Relax, my love. Let me try this, why don’t you?”

You nodded, and she slowly leaned in, capturing your lips with her own. It was sweet. Having someone care for you in such a pleasant way; your soul almost left your body. 

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The first time that you touched me Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love 

You had never been happier in the time you shared with Jo. The sun seemed to shine just for you, and the stars at night, too. You grew closer to her sisters, too. You and Meg gossiped often. You would teach Amy an art class, free of charge. Beth was like the little sister you never had; she would often lay on you as you read her a story. Sometimes Shakespeare, sometimes Charlotte Bronte. 

Oh, but the time spent with Jo. You two would sit in the couch in the attic when no one was home, with your head upon her chest, and every once in a while, she kissed your forehead lovingly. After the story was done, she would bring you into a deep kiss, and the sunshine shined on both of you. 

You wished for moments like these forever. 

Lord, I no longer believe Drowned in living waters Cursed by the love that I received From my brother's daughter 

Among the both of you, there was talk about the future, a future where you two could live openly, free of judgement. 

“I’d marry you, you know.” said Jo one day as she kissed the shell of your ear. Both of you were cuddled up in front of the fire place at your house. 

“But, Jo-”

She kissed your nose. “Ah ah ah. No buts. We’ll be together under the eyes of the lord, he’ll bring us into his grace for eternity. We’ll live in happiness.”

“Sounds perfect to me, love.”

Like Hephaestion, who died Alexander's lover Now my riverbed has dried Shall I find no other?

But you were both so naive. Thinking that the world was made for you. That the sun would shine for the pair of you. 

“Mother, you can’t possibly do this to me. Father, tell her!”

“No, Franklin. Don’t speak. You will marry Alexander Cores by next week. No more discussions.”

You sobbed. “I wanted to have a career!”

“You will. As a housewife. Back in Spain.”

“Helene, you can’t possibly expect her to-”

“She’ll learn to be a proper lady, Frank. No more discussions. You’ll be married next week and straight off to Spain the day after.”

You ran straight out the door, no coat or anything. You had to go see Jo. You burst into the March home, with no regard for anything. She was talking with her sisters and fell into her lap, crying.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?” Amy said, putting a hand on your back. 

“They’re-They’re-” you said, your cries cutting you off.

“It’s alright, take your time.” Said Meg. You could feel Beth wrap her arms around your waist. No words needed to be said from her. 

Once you had gathered yourself up. You were able to explain. “They- my parents are forcing me to marry.” you felt tears come up in your eyes again. “And he’s taking me off to Spain!”

Jo felt her heart clench and drop in her stomach. She couldn’t lose you, not like this. She leaned down to kiss the side of your head. “Isn't there anything you can do? There must be something!”

“No there isn’t. The wedding is scheduled for next week!”

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me I'm running like a plover Now I'm prone to misery The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder And what difference does it make When this love is over?

It was the night before the wedding. The fireplace in your room crackled and popped as you stared at the room. There were no thoughts in your head. You had given up.

You heard a knocking on the window. You got up and opened it. Jo. 

And just like that, you had burst into tears. Her face dropped at this, seeing your unhappiness. “Oh my love. Oh my sweet. It’s going to be alright.”

You trembled in her arms. “No it’s not! I’ll be away from you and never see you again! And I’ll be in pain, and it will be horrible!”

“One last night.”

“Jo, what?”

She fully crawled through the window, now in front of you. “Let me spend one last night with you. We’ll make this our forever. I’ll be gone by morning.”

You had  never nodded quicker. You brought Jo into your bed, letting her wrap her arms around you. “Oh, love of my life. Rest.”

She kissed the tears running down your face, and you soon fell unconscious. 

This would be your forever, after all. 

Shall I sleep within your bed? River of unhappiness

You had been in Spain for almost seven years now. You missed Jo more than you could fathom. Sure, there were letters exchanged back back and forth nearly every day, but it was nothing like kissing her or laying your head on her chest and having her read to you while basking in the sunshine and enjoying the privacy of the attic. 

In other words, you were miserable.

And as for Alexander- you really tried with him. You tried to love him, but you couldn’t. She was always on your mind. 

As for Jo, she could possibly be worse. She fell into a depression, and she couldn’t explain to anyone why, with fear of judgement. Believe it or not, she rote some of her best work during this time. 

All artists have to go through something tragic to create their life’s work.

Hold your hands upon my head Till I breathe my last breath

It was then that you prayed for a miracle. It was as if the Good Lord has heard your cry and decided it was time to align the stars for you two.

Alexander was caught in an embezzlement fraud from work, and was charged and put into prison for 6 years. His lawyers advised that you divorce him.

And so you did. Packed your bags, and booked boat tickets for Concord. 

It was then that you received the letter from Marmee. She detailed of Beth’s sickness, an advised you to come, in case anything should happen. You were more than happy to permanently stay in Massachusetts. 

You arrived early on a cold January afternoon in 1869. On the same port that Laurie picked you up on so many years ago. It now seemed dull.

But you were here to stay, no matter how glum it may be. 

You quickly made your way to the March house, without a single thought. You set your bags down as you came in, Meg’s twins coming to greet you. “Auntie!”

“Hello, my lovelies! Where’s your mother?”

“Hello, Y/N” Meg said, with a said with a sad smile, peeking out from behind the wall. You set the twins down and went over to her. 

“She’s passed, Y/N. Beth. She’s gone.” You could see the tears running down her face, the ones she was trying to hide. 

You brought her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, Meg. I’ve got you.”

She cried into your shoulder before puling away. “Jo’s upstairs, you know. Just be careful. She’s fragile.”

You blushed. “How’d you know?”

She gave you a wink as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I always know. You can tell by the way you looked at one another.”

With that, you gathered your skirts and made your way up the stairs. Nearly tripping over the many skirts. Jo always said you wore too much. When you reached the top floor, there she was. 

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The last time that you touched me

She was hunched over Beth’s bed, crying silently. She didn’t notice you come into the room. You nearly broke down at the sight of her. 

“J-Jo?”

Her head quickly shot up, eyes fixed on you. Your dress looked expensive; Alexander must have been well off. But you were the same beautiful girl she met way back. 

She stumbled as she walked over to you. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed at your feet, grabbing at your skirts as you got to her level.

“Please don’t leave again! I’ve been in such terrible pain! Please!”

You stroked her hair, her head now being in your lap. 

“I’m here to stay, love. I’m not leaving.”

You were here for good. 

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

A year later, you and Jo were on a carriage ride to church on a warm, spring Sunday morning.

A secret marriage. You guys’ little secret. 

You took a black wedding band out of dress pocket, putting it on her finger. “With this ring, I take thee, Josephine March, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you for all eternity. In sickness and in health, as long as be both shall live.”

You whispered, so the driver couldn’t hear you. “With this ring, I take thee, Y/N Andrews, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you, for all eternity; in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

She pulled you into a deep kiss, her hands on your neck and yours on her waist. As you pulled up to the church she helped you out the carriage, and you two gave each other a look as you went inside the building.

That day, you took communion together, and considered each other married in secret. 

Death was the only thing that parted you, as you passed away from tuberculosis in 1900. She always held your hand, even when you passed.

She passed away two years later, in 1902. Her last wish was to be buried with a photograph of you. 

You two met again in heaven and you were both young again, with the rest of the March family. Laurie and his grandfather, too. 

On the 26th of June, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states under the Obama administration. In all states, people of all sexualities would be able to marry their partner, without discrimination. 

You and Jo rejoiced from above, along with everyone else. All that you wished was that it happened sooner. 

But you celebrated with joy along with everyone down in the land of the living. 

Blessed be the mystery of love. 

~~~~~~

A/N: I LOVED this. feedback is appreciated! :)

- Talya