#they’ll smell my country girl fear

[chartreuxcatz]

Planning trips to see internet friends would be so much easier if we could be in the same room looking at the same computer while we figure out what hotel to stay at

[sl-ut]

detka

quick note: the last instalment to this series is one of the worst things i’ve ever written and i hate that i went ahead and published it anyways so we are just all gonna forget that it ever happened, kay? that’s all.

pairing: au!baker!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

description: it’s been a summer of bliss, but all good things come to an end. wanda fears that it’s over for her and y/n, while y/n is determined to make it work.

warnings: SMUT, strap-on use, spitting kink, mentions of exhibitionism/voyeurism, legal alcohol consumption, legal age gap (reader is early 20s, wanda is late 30s), talk of breaking up, mention of PH, fluff

words: 2.2K

date posted: 04/12/22

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“I can’t believe that it’s August already.”

Y/n hummed quietly, head lulled back against the smooth tiling behind her as a jet worked to relieve her of the knot that had grown in her back. One of the many perks of dating Wanda is that she was at a point in her life where she could afford to have nicer things, and that she had not spared much expense on the large bathtub in her ensuite. The room was mostly dim, the modest chandelier having been set to the lowest brightness in favour of the flickering glow of several eucalyptus scented candles.

Opposite her, Wanda watched in fondness as the girl visibly relaxed into the steaming water. Her eyes traced the shadows of her face, down the slope of her neck and shoulders, and over the small amount of her chest that was visible over the mountain of sweet smelling bubbles. She disguised the curve of her lips by taking a long sip of her zinfandel as her other hand settled beneath the water, fingers curling around the ankle of her lover as it rested next to her and massaged circled into the flesh with her thumb. 

“It’s my favourite month,” Y/n murmured, “Warm days, cooler nights. Perfect for a day at the beach and a campfire after dark. Not to mention that I get to have you all to myself for the next thirty days.”

“Is that so?” Wanda chuckled at her, “I will admit, it’s weird not having the boys around for so long, but there are definitely many benefits of them going to summer camp. Maybe I’ll have to start sending them away for a week or so once every couple of months.” 

Y/n peeked her eyes open, a small smirk crawling onto her own lips when she caught Wanda’s stare, “Isn’t that the point of school?”

Wanda shrugged, “Some days six hours just isn’t enough. Or maybe, we should go away once every few months, a little vacation?”

“There is nothing I’d like more. Maybe on my breaks?”

Wanda’s smile fell. She found certain moments where she would forget that her time with Y/n was not infinite. A few weeks from now, Y/n would be leaving to return to university, and though it was only an hour or so away, Wanda worried that their short-lived relationship might not do so well under the imminent stress of long-distance. 

“Hey,” Y/n squeezed her ankle gently under the water, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Wanda took another drink, “Just thinking.”

“About?” 

She shrugged, “Just that… It’s going to be strange with you so far away.”

Y/n smiled gently, “Wanda, I’m not leaving the country, I’ll be an hour away, tops. Plus, I’ll be back every couple of weekends, and it’s not like I’m in a dorm anymore so you’re more than welcome to come stay for a few nights, if you’d like.” 

“I know, but I know what it’s like to be in college. You’ll be out at bars, and parties, and there will be girls wanting to experiment or whatever–hell that’s what I did in college. But they’ll be your age, girls that you can bring out with you without being looked at and–”

“Wanda, if I was looking for meaningless hookups or someone to drag me around at parties, I would go find them. I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you before you get that into your pretty little head.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes, I do. Besides, what college chick can offer me this? Best I could get there is a freezing shower in the communal bathrooms. Here, I’ve got bubbles…” She lifted her own glass to her lips and downed the remaining liquid, “Wine… My favourite friendly neighbourhood MILF…”

Wanda pinched her foot beneath the bubbles, “I told you to stop calling me that!”

Y/n erupted with giggles, “What? You’ve seen my search history, you know that I like that about you as much as you like me being your little sugar baby.”

“Sugar baby?” The redhead raised a brow, “I wasn’t aware that that’s what this was. So now I know, you just like me for my bathtub, my booze, and the fact that I match your favourite search on PornHub.”

“The bathtub is a luxury, and you’re incredibly sexy. The booze, well you have an excellent taste in wine, I’ll admit.” She tapped her empty glass.

“I’m glad you like it.” Wanda mused, “Would you like a refill, then?”

Y/n tilted her head in consideration before she placed it back down on the side of the tub, “No thank you.” She pushed forward, grinning mischievously as she slid her way across the tub and settled in her lover’s lap, grasping the glass out of her hand and taking one long drink from it, “I’ll just share yours.”

Wanda smiled up at her, fingers finding solace in the plush flesh of her hips as she was finally able to admire her up-close, even if she had blatantly stolen her drink. Her fingers kneaded the slick skin, sliding up to grip her waist, then back down to her hips as Y/n settled down into her embrace. She set the glass aside, looping her arms around Wanda’s neck so that she could comfortably rest their foreheads together and bump noses. She moved forward, hoping to catch her lips with her own, though Wanda moved back suddenly, a sly smirk on her lips. Y/n pursed her own lips, lurching forward again to no avail.

“You admit to using me for all of my… luxuries, steal my drink, and expect to get your own way?” Wanda scoffed, reaching up to grasp her face and smirking as her lips puckered under the force, “You call yourself my sugar baby, maybe I should start treating you like one, heh?”

Y/n shifted, wiggling her hips enthusiastically.

“Would you like that, detka? I think you would.” Wanda removed her hand from Y/n’s hip, sliding it along the slick flesh to rest on her rib cage, watching as her chest rose and fell quicker under her touch. “Would you like a kiss?”

“Mhmm,” Y/n mumbled, unable to form words under Wanda’s grasp. 

Wanda grinned, fingers finally cupping her breast as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the swell of it, biting on the bulge of flesh gently before tracing her tongue over her erect nipple. Y/n sighed, shaking her face out of Wanda’s grip as she arched her back so that her chest was pressed closer to her face. The redhead released her grip on one breast before latching onto the other and offering it identical treatment. Once she deemed her attention to have brought one enough of a reaction, she relented, leaning back against the porcelain wall and reaching for her wine. She sipped it slowly, eyes never leaving those of her lover as she swallowed one large mouthful. 

“Come here, detka,” She nudged her closer, taking another sip of wine.

Y/n shifted nearer, being sure to drag her hips as closely to Wanda’s body as possible. Wanda grasped the underside of the younger woman’s jaw to draw her as close as possible, pressing their lips together in a quick peck. Y/n pulled back quickly, lowering herself and parting her lips as she awaited for Wanda to do the same. She let out a small squeal as she did, puckering her lips so that she could create a narrow stream of wine from her own mouth into Y/n’s. As the stream of wine became thinner and thinner, she rose up so that their lips met once again. 

“Thank you,” Y/n giggled playfully in between kisses, slowly rolling her hips against Wanda’s. 

She laughed along, nudging her throat with her nose as she grasped her hips and prompted her to stand, “Why don’t you run off to bed while I clean up, huh?”

Y/n pecked her once more, carefully stepping out onto the tiled floor and wrapping herself in a white fluffy towel and disappearing into the bedroom.

Wanda did very little to clean up, in truth. She drained the tub, but did not take the liberty to clear the bubbled from the bottom once the water had gone, and she simply moved the empty wine glasses next to the half-empty bottle, all of which had been abandoned on the vanity before she grabbed her own towel.

The redhead scoffed as she set foot in her bedroom, eyes catching sight of her girlfriend as she knelt on the bed, knees spread and chest puffed out, towel abandoned on the floor just next to the bed. 

“With the curtains open?” Wanda raised a brow, stalking past to slide the sheer drapes closed, “You truly are shameless, aren’t you, my love?”

“When it comes to you? Definitely,” Y/n grinned, leaning forward on her hands, “Besides, would it be so bad if someone were to see? Watch as I make you–oh!”

Y/n landed on her back suddenly, bouncing on the impact of Wanda’s shove, and even more so as the woman pounced on top of her. 

“Would you like that?” Her voice was husky, accent thicker than usual, “Someone to watch? Someone to see your face when I make you come, time and time again; to see this pretty pussy spread open for my tongue, my fingers, my cock.”

Y/n mewled underneath her, wriggling her hips excitedly as Wanda pressed down against her, thigh bumping her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“You would, my sweet girl, wouldn’t you?”

Wanda chuckled, pushing herself up to round the bed, reaching into her bedside table for a familiar object, one that had quickly become a favourite of hers since meeting Y/n. The younger woman grinned at her, returning to her position on her knees as she watched the redhead slide into the garment, turning to face her lover as she slowly ran her fist up and down the length of the scarlet strap on. 

“Come, detka,” She beckoned her over to the edge of the bed, “You want my cock? Come get on your knees for me.”

Y/n wasted little time sliding off of the bed, dropping to her knees on the hardwood floor as she eagerly parted her lips, moaning as Wanda began to tap at her lips with the firm tip of it. She extended her tongue, allowing for the woman to drag the plastic cock up the length of her warm tongue before finally allowing her to take it into her mouth with ease.

“There you go, my beautiful girl,” Wanda purred as she began to bob her head, taking the toy further and further into her throat with each movement. She gripped the hair on the back of her head to aid her movements, offering slow thrusts of her hips as well. “You take me so well, my sweet.”

Y/n gagged lightly, tears welling at her waterline, though she paid no mind. Instead, she reached behind Wanda, gripping the flesh of her ass to take her even further. 

Wanda chuckled at her, “Look at you. How is it that you have a preference for women when you clearly love cock so much?”

Y/n pulled back just enough to respond, “Only yours.”

“Mine?” Wanda laughed, “You do, don’t you?”

She pulled her off, pushing her towards the bed. 

“On your hands and knees.”

Eager, Y/n obeyed her lover as she scrambled into position, perking her ass out further and spreading her legs so that Wanda could clearly see her dripping sex.

Wanda sighed, fingers running up the length of Y/n’s thighs, gliding through her folds gently and up over her puckered hole.

“How wet you are, my sweet.”

She gave no warning before dragging her tongue carefully over her clitoris and up so she could slide it into her weeping hole. Y/n gasped in surprise, pressing back into Wanda’s touch as her thighs began to tremble. 

“Fuck, Wanda,” She huffed, “Oh please.”

“Please what?” Wanda teased, “You want my cock?”

Y/n hummed, dropping her face into the soft duvet as she felt the plastic tip drag over her wetness. She gasped as it slowly pushed into her, pausing as she sheathed the toy into her to the hilt. Wanda took hold of her hips as she allowed her time to adjust, pushing her forward slightly before hauling her back to create a steady rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed around the room, accompanied by the pleasure sighs and moans of the woman being penetrated. 

Wanda circled her clit under her thumb, grinning wickedly as she heard the sounds growing higher in pitch, and much more frequent. It was clear to her that Y/n was not going to last very long, which was good, as Wanda wasn’t sure that she had too much patience for the night, considering that she had planned to draw many more from her lover before the night was finished. 

And many more she would receive.

tags: @lainjupi @vaeeeel @how-to-disappearrr @mellxa @wandanatvoid @d14n4ol @lorsstar1st @swiftdazer @aawake-atnight @fayhar @s1ut4nat @gimaximoff @3-02sth @battleg03 @splatashaizgay @r4nd0mgir1 @nicolesangel @inluvwithfictionalwomen @lizzieolsen89 @wildnightuniverse @wanda-is-my-joker @stormsluvr @keepingupwithwandanat @imlike-so-gaydude @exclusivitymajor

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[boa-h]

【Donquixote Doflamingo】 The Tyrant and The Temptress

*Original tale: Snow White

“Once upon a time in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony wood. As she sewed she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle. Three drops of blood fell into the snow. The red on the white looked so beautiful that she thought to herself, ‘If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame.’

Soon afterward she had a little daughter who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore they called her Little Snow-White. And as soon as the child was born, the queen died.”

The king did not take the news well, he cried and cried, and he never looked once at his newborn.

You grew up in your father’s neglect and the maids’ abuse. You wore the most patched up dress and ate the most disgusting food. Then one day, the mirror on your wall spoke:

“Dear princess, on your 17th birthday, run north. On the north side of the forest there’s a wealthy kingdom, and in the kingdom lives a handsome prince. He will be crowned soon and you shall be his queen.”

Stunned, you stumbled backwards as a man appeared in the mirror. The man had spiky blond hair and a pair of strange sunglasses. He seemed to be relaxing near the pool as you can see part of the stone castle in the background. Your fear slowly disappearing, you stepped towards the mirror and slowly raised your arm. The mirror turned back to normal upon your touch. You blinked. You could’ve sworn that the prince looked towards your way a second before the mirror returned to normal.

The door slammed open, two maids came in and threw the food on your table. A piece of bread and some sort of soup.

“Time to eat,” One said, and they turned to leave

“The princess perhaps turned stupid, what is she touching the mirror for?” The other maid laughed and glanced back with contempt in her eyes. Her friend chuckled too and closed the door behind them.

You stared at the food they brought you. You wanted to knock it off the table, but surely you’ll get a beating if they find out that you spilled everything, and surely they’ll make you clean everything up.

“Eat, princess. You need enough energy to escape this place.” The mirror spoke again, and you listened.

A few weeks passed. Today was your 17th birthday. The mirror woke you up earlier than usual. You jumped out the window using a long rope tied together using sheets of cloth. You ran towards the north and didn’t look back.

The branches and thorns in the forest cut your skin, but you never stopped. Your poorly made leather shoes were already worn out, so you threw them away without a second thought. The moist moss and dirt on the ground made you clench your teeth, brushing off the feeling of disgust the best that you can. You continued your way.

Finally, at dawn, you found yourself in an unknown environment. The streets were crowded with people. Women danced on the streets and musicians played for them. Street stands released the delicious smell of food, which made your stomach grumble. People went in and out of all kinds of shops. This country was filled with laughter and passion.

As someone who’s never even stepped foot out of her castle. You found everything amusing. No one really noticed you, but the ones who did only glanced at you with disgust. You had nowhere to go, it was getting dark. You could only head into an alley and spend the night there.

“Fufufu~ and what do we have here?” A sudden voice in front of you made you stop and look up. A tall man with blond hair and strange sunglasses looked down at you. ‘The man in the mirror!’ you thought. “What is a girl like you doing out here alone on this cold night?”

“But… it’s not cold.” You replied.

“Fufufu! I was only trying to exaggerate, you didn’t have to take me seriously.” He laughed, “My name is Donquixote Doflamingo, the king of this country.”

“Oh! Pardon me, I should’ve not replied to you with such rudeness.” You bowed to him.

“There’s no worries, miss. I presume that you don’t have anywhere to go? Why not follow me? I’ll give you a place to stay for now.”

“Really? You would do that?” You asked with a hopeful glint in your eyes.

“Fufu~ why, of course~” He said.

The man led you out of the valley, but what you didn’t see was the rest of the valley that was dyed in blood, and the men that laid dead on the floor.

Upon entering his castle. You saw luxurious gold and silver. There were famous paintings hanging on the walls, the carpets were a bright color of red, and maids stopped their work to bow down to their king.

You were brought to a guest room, the maids bathed you and dressed you, and then it was time for dinner.

You sat next to the king on the long table. What came to your surprise was that the meal was brought to the table by little dwarfs. You’ve never seen any creature like that. They’re so much shorter than normal people, and they’re faster too. Most of them have a pointy nose and a furry tail. You were fascinated. However, Doflamingo doesn’t seem like he wants you to interact with them. He dismissed them from the dining hall and returned his attention back to you.

Dinner was better than anything you’ve ever had in your 17 years of living.

“Sweet dreams, girlie.” Doflamingo chuckled as he led you back to your room.

For the next few days, Doflamingo allows you to roam around the castle, the one thing he's forbidden for you to do is going to the basement and talking to the dwarfs. You obeyed.

“What did she do today?” Asks Doflamingo.

“Her ladyship played with Baby 5 today, and talked to the mirror as usual.” The servant replied.

“I see… fufu~ you’re dismissed.”

The servant bowed to the king as he left the room.

On the other hand, you just returned to your bedroom. There was an apple on your nightstand, it was as red as blood and it was the prettiest apple you’ve ever seen in your life.

‘It must’ve been something the dwarfs sent me.’ You thought to yourself. The dwarfs have been leaving snacks in your room ever since you came. It seems like it was the order of Doflamingo.

You sat on your bed and took a bite of the apple. It was juicy and sweet, matching its perfect look on the outside. However, a dizzy feeling overwhelmed you as you were about to take a second bite, and you fell unconscious before you could figure out what was going on.

You woke up to a bunch of dwarfs, circled around you. They seemed relieved when you woke up.

“What happened..? Where am I?” You asked.

“This is the basement of this castle.” The dwarf with the green hat said.

“Huh?” Uneasiness took over you, he told you to never go in the basement. Now that you’ve broken his rules, he might throw you out of his castle and you’ll never see him again, nor would he trust you again. No… this can’t be happening. Tears filled your eyes. You were finally able to find someone who cares about you…

“Listen to me, princess. You have to leave this place! Doflamingo isn’t the sweet man you know. You’ve been lied to! You need to run away before he takes control of you as well!” Said the dwarf, the other agreed.

“Look at this place, this basement is filled with working dwarfs and prisoners. This country may look happy, but it’s rotten on the inside! Doflamingo forces anyone who doesn’t cooperate with him to work to their deaths.” Another dwarf added

You looked at them, “But… I love him.”

The dwarfs widened their eyes in shock

“So I can excuse him for whatever he does. Because I love him.” You smiled a crazed smile. “I hated those self-centered maids, and I hated my cowardly father. They were never nice to me. But now I have someone who’s willing to care for me. So I don’t really care what he does. As long as he loves me too.” You laughed

“Fufufu~ well said.” A deep voice was heard from behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know who that is. But you entered his basement after all, would he get mad? Would he kill you? Or worse… would he throw you out?

“Doffy...” You turned around.

As if he read your mind, he spoke, “Oh, my princess, I would never drive you out of here. But look around you.” He forced your head to turn the other way. “These are the slaves I have. I force them to work day and night and I force them to fight to death, it’s all for my entertainment. Would you still be willing to stay here?”

“I am willing.” You said

“FUFUFU~~!” He laughed, the whole basement was filled with his laughter. “Very well… my queen.”

After years gone by, different versions of this story have been passed down on the generations of Dressrosa. Some said the king forced you to stay, others say you seduced the king into cruelty. And so finally, the title of this tale was decided as “The Tyrant and The Temptress.”

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

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Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

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

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

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

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

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

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

[gotnofucks]

Loving Dodger

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Your journey of overcoming your fear of dogs to loving Dodger.

Words: 3.6k

Warning: mention of smut, language. Loads of fluff

A/N: I obviously don’t know Chris Evans, this is just a story.

MASTERLIST

+++++

Everyone was packing up and you rushed to get things in order. Your coffee had gone cold hours ago, and some poor intern would be responsible for throwing it away from wherever you had left it. Working in the film industry could be rough, and this was just backstage. You went through the set, automatically putting things in order as you moved and waved goodbye to others. Stuffing the last of your things in your overstuffed bag, you left to find a taxi. You were glad you weren’t working tomorrow morning, for you planned to have a long hot shower and an undisturbed sleep after a long time.

It was late at night and no taxis came your way. You hated taking an Uber this late, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You had only just taken out your phone when a car stopped in front of you. The driver’s side door opened, and a smiling Chris Evans greeted you.

“Can I give you a ride milady?” He asked and you snorted.

“You have the worst English accent. If you do that in London, they’ll smell the imposter in you” You said. “And it’s cool, I’m calling an uber.”

Chris frowned, leaning against the door with arms spread, his few sizes short, too tight shirt stretching over his broad frame. You felt like he needed to be arrested for the cardiac arrests he may cause.

“At this time, and even when a handsome, chivalrous man is offering a safe ride? You wound me sweetheart.” He grabbed his left boob, faking a pained expression and you sighed.

“God, you’re awful Chris. You sure it’s okay, a little out of your way isn’t it?”

“Y/n, there is not one place in the world I wouldn’t go with you”

You let your hair form a curtain to hide your blush, clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping in his car. His car smelled like his cologne, the heady scent sticking to your clammy skin. You went for the radio, soft country music running in the background.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” Chris asked.

“I live a boring life man. I’m probably gonna clean my shit and stock my kitchen with as much instant food as I can.”

“Well, if you want, we can go somewhere. Make your boring weekend interesting.” Chris suggested, glancing at you as he maneuvered around the traffic. You fidgeted, playing with your fingers as you avoided his eyes. Saying no to him was getting difficult every time. You wished the radio was turned up louder so this conversation could be avoided.

“Oh, you know me. I like to lay in, be a lazy girl.” You tried to say nonchalantly, and Chris’s hands clenched around the wheel. You stared out the window, watching the city breeze past as things got awkward inside. You didn’t speak until he pulled up in front of your home, and you reached for the door before the car even stopped, a farewell on your tongue when you were pulled back by the seatbelt.

You blushed, hands frantically trying to undo the clasp and Chris’s hands covered yours, releasing you. You breathed deeply as he was leaning into you, face just a few inches away. You could count his lashes this close, see the exact shape of that mole on his cheek and feel his breath on you. You pulled back, quickly opening the door and almost stepping out before you were pulled back again, this time by Chris’s hand grabbing your upper arm. He tugged you back into your seat and came close enough to touch your nose with his.

“You know you can’t keep blowing me off,” He muttered. His hand tucked your hair behind your ear, blue eyes intently looking in yours. “I can’t take your no because I know you don’t mean it. Why do you keep running away?”

You gulped uneasily, wiggling out of his grip and getting out of the car. He was still looking at you, waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, feet kicking the ground at your feet.

“Thank you for the ride Chris. Drive safe.”

The door swung shut behind you and you walked away without another look, hiding away inside your home and trying to calm your beating heart.

+++++

You remembered disabling your alarm last night, so what the hell was that awful noise. Burrowing your head in your pillow, you tried to go back to sleep until the pounding continued. You growled, ready to rip out a new one to whoever was stupid enough to disturb your sleep. Uncaring of your attire, the t-shirt barely reaching midthigh over your panties you marched to your door, a scowl on your face.

You ripped open your door, already mid-triad before noticing who it was.

“Look, you need to shut the hell up. I work 14 hours a day, barely eat and sleep and you trying to break my door down is not –”

Chris smiled at you, amusement glittering in his eyes which raked over your bare legs. Your mouth parted for an embarrassingly long amount of time before you remembered you bed hair, morning breath (more like mourning breath) and the ratty t-shirt with holes. You pulled down on the hem, aware that you weren’t wearing a bra and it was too late to hide.

“What the hell are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” You asked Chris and he held up his hands to show he had food.

“Ungodly? Its 10 am miss, and your loyal subject is here to feed you.”

He moved past you into your house without invite, putting down the paper bag which had grease stains on it. Despite your shock and anger, your stomach grumbled, and you shut the door behind you. You rolled your eyes at his cheek, but that stuff looked too tempting to say no to.

“Since you’ve decided to intrude on my morning, make yourself useful and put on some coffee. I’m gonna change” You said and walked towards your bedroom.

“Like the way you look!” Chris shouted from behind you and you flipped him off without looking, ignoring his chuckle.

Why the hell was he here? After the way you guys had left things last night, you would have thought he would be too pissed to talk to you. You sighed as you pulled on a bra and something other than a 10-year-old t-shirt. You found him setting the table, laying down breakfast as the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. He smiled when he saw you had pulled your hair into a messy bun and winked at you.

“Here, larger portion for you.” He said handing you a plate of your favorite food. You took it, feeling like a guest in your own home as he served and poured you a mug of coffee, made perfectly as you like it. You both ate in silence for a while, the sound of cutlery the only thing to be heard. Finally, you pinned him with a stare, pushing away your plate.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Seriously.”

He chewed the morsel in his mouth before leaning his hands on the table and clasping his hands. It felt like an interview and you wished you had something better on, like an armor, to deal with whatever he was going to say.

“Well, if you want an honest answer here, I’d say I am here because I wanted to see you. I didn’t want you having some instant meal for the 10th time this week, so I got you some breakfast.”

You looked away from him, chewing on your lip. You wished he wouldn’t be so sweet. If he were a sleazy bastard, saying no to him would be so easy. Yet, here he was getting you food and being all domestic, making your life more difficult.

“Look, I appreciate this but I – Chris, we can’t happen. You need to stop this.”

It seemed like he was contemplating you, trying to guess what went on in that head of yours. He reached across to take your hand in his, lacing your fingers and stroked.

“I can’t stop. I tried, trust me I did. I can’t. I see you on the set and I want to whisk you away in the vanity away from prying eyes. I see you anywhere at all, with any other man I want to punch his face. Y/n don’t tell me I am imagining things. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me too, don’t you?”

The chair made a screeching noise as you snatched your hand away from his and got up, pacing the room. You were shaking your head, trying to think of a way to make him understand.

“Chris, we won’t work, you and me.”

“Why the fuck not? How can you even know if you won’t give us a chance? And I am the one who’s supposed to have fucking commitment issues.”

You wrung your hands, sitting in front of him again. He looked angry and frustrated, not knowing how much you wanted to say yes. But you knew in your heart of hearts that a very basic thing will never let you be.

“I won’t give it a chance because we’re different. We like different things, and well, sometimes they can be too much to compromise.”

“Like what, huh?”

You looked down in your lap, playing with the lint that stuck to your leggings. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but you knew it would hold a lot of importance to this relationship. Taking a sharp breath, you told him the truth.

“I don’t like dogs. In fact, they terrify me.”

Chris lurched back as if it was the last thing he expected to come from you. He probably expected some tale of family drama or relationship trauma, but your reasons were simpler. You had cynophobia, the fear of dogs. You couldn’t be in the same room with them without getting shit scared. Chris blinked at you, like it was the dumbest thing you could have said.

“Excuse me? You refuse to go out with me because you don’t like dogs?”

You gave him a critical look, raising a brow.

“Have you seen your social media accounts? You love Dodger probably more than you love any human being. You’re a self-proclaimed ‘huge dog guy’. And me…I can’t be in the same room with one. We won’t work out Chris, and I would rather save myself the heartbreak.”

This was clearly not something Chris was prepared for. He looked baffled, not knowing what to say. You wished it were a small thing, but it wasn’t. Everyone who knew Chris could tell how much he loved dogs. His Instagram page was basically a Dodger fan page. He had the name tattooed on his body. You could never work out simply because Chris would always be choosing between you and his doggo, and you would be too busy being scared of him to enjoy your time with Chris.

He released a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“We’ll make it happen. A lot of people fear things, and they get over it. It can work out. When you meet Dodger, you’ll forget you’d ever been scared of a dog. He’s a good boy, trust me.”

“Chris” You said shaking your head, “You don’t understand. I like dogs but only from afar. They terrify the living daylights out of me. I just – why don’t you understand? This is already so embarrassing”

He got up and sat next to you, his hand on your shoulder. “Look, just give me one chance. I know we can be great, okay? One chance is all I am asking. If it gets too much, we end it. I promise, it will be like nothing ever happened.”

You didn’t want to believe him. You shouldn’t have, but he was the man you’d been crushing on for nearly a year now. He was smart and kind and funny, he worked for the good causes and god he was such a treat to look at. You should have said no, had your coffee and left it at that. But there was only so many times you can say no to Chris Evans, especially when he’s pursuing you like the proverbial hound of hell.

“One chance Chris.”

+++++

This was a bad idea and you were regretting it already. You were practically hiding behind Chris, bunching his shirt under both hands as your head peeked over his large body. You were not ready to meet Dodger, at least not without a bomb suit.

“Hey, relax, he’s a right love. I’ve been showing him your pictures on my phone and he loves you already.” Chris tried to placate you and you replied with a pathetic whimper.

The door had barely opened before the golden brown doggo ran towards you and you squeaked. He bounded on Chris and you, Chris laughing and rubbing him behind the ear while you backed away. Dodger kept trying to come towards you and Chris had to hold him back by the collar while offering you a hand.

“Come on Y/n, he doesn’t bite. He’s a cutie.” Chris called but you shook your head, your knees vibrating. You edged away, taking deep gulps of breath as fear overtook you. It was pathetic really how scared you were since Dodger wasn’t even a huge dog, but it still took every last bit of your willpower to not just run away.

“Chris I can’t. Please.” You begged and he must have heard the fear in your voice. He pulled Dodger inside the house, the barks getting fainter as they moved in and you stayed frozen in your track. He came out after a couple minutes and immediately took your shoulders, rubbing softly.

“Hey, hey look at me. He’s inside now, okay?”

You nodded and buried your head in his chest, feeling more embarrassed than ever. Chris hugged you, shushing you gently.

“I am so sorry Chris, I just can’t. I told you this won’t work” You said, and Chris pulled away to look in your eyes. His blue eyes were determined as they stared in yours and you blinked up at him with watery eyes.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung this up on you like this. We’ll start small, okay?” He urged and you bit your lip, uncertain. Chris rubbed his nose to yours, pressing a kiss on your lips and both your cheeks. “Please Y/n, just give me more time. We’ll work it out.”

You wanted it to work out too. The dates you had gone on had been nothing short of amazing. When you were with Chris you laughed like never before, the conversation so unrestrained. You didn’t worry about hiding your flaws, feeling so comfortable in his company. And then there was the sex. It was so good. In fact, it was spectacular.

“I don’t know how we’ll make it work.” You admitted softly and Chris smiled at you, cupping your face in his huge hands.

“We’ll do it together baby. Don’t give up on us just yet please.” You pressed your forehead to his and breathed in his scent, letting it wash over you. Nodding your affirmation, you let him lead you inside his house, Dodger locked inside the bedroom.

“I feel terrible for locking him in.” You said and you did. Just because dogs scare you doesn’t mean you hate them. You just feared going near them. You watched those cute puppy videos on YouTube to help relax yourself, only you didn’t want any dogs around you.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s with his stuffed lion.”

You cuddled on the couch, watching some 90s movie and you wished with everything that this would somehow work out.

+++++

It took you a while to decide if this was heaven or hell. You were awing and yelping simultaneously, and Chris laughed from behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist. Nuzzling his nose in your neck, he bit your ear softly uncaring of the people around you.

“Oh my god” You must have said this a dozen times already, but you were simply in awe. When Chris said you’ll start small you didn’t think he meant literally. In front of you were some of the cutest, softest, smallest puppies and you finally decided this was heaven.

“I figured we’ll begin from the beginning. Go up slowly, get you used to being around canines.” He bit you again as he said that and you giggled. Turning your head, you captured his lips in an elated kiss, touched that he was going to go through this with you.

“This is amazing.” You said and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He led you to the corner where a small black puppy with spots on his toes was wagging his tail at you. You awed, not afraid of him in the least.

“You wanna tell me about your phobia a little?” Chris asked as you cradled the pup in the crook of your elbow, the little darling loving your finger running over his small belly.

“It’s kinda silly but when I was four, I was chased by my neighbor’s dog. I ran like hell and it almost bit me before they got it back in control. I’ve feared them ever since.”

Chris hummed, kissing the pup in his own hands and giving you a soft smile.

“This helps?”

“This helps.” You agreed.

Chris and you must have petted a dozen puppies, holding them in your hands, cooing to them and kissing their small noses. You clicked pictures and fed them from your hands, a cacophony of kissy noises and good boys flowing from you both.

“I’m gonna have to hide these pics or Dodger is gonna get jealous.” Chris said and you snorted, snuggling into his side. It was a beautiful day at the shelter, and you were surprised at how fun it was. Tired as you were, you were also acutely aware of Chris’s hand creeping up your thigh in the car. You looked out the window, suppressing your smile.

“So, we made some progress today” He said, and you hummed. “And you had a lot of fun” You hummed again.

Chris pulled you to him roughly by your collar, his tongue poking out to just lick at your bottom lip.

“I think I deserve a reward…” He trailed off and you finally let a smile spread on your lips.

“I think you do Mr. Evans” You agreed and pressed your lips over his, hoping the driver will overlook the noises in the back.

+++++

Baby steps worked, and over the course of the next few weeks you got more comfortable around dogs. You spent a lot of time with pups of all breeds, slowly moving on to the bigger dogs. It wasn’t all easy, few visits ended in tears and hopelessness, but Chris stayed by your side. He let you set the pace, accompanying you every time and praising you for every obstacle you crossed. He didn’t mind spending most of the time at your place and waved off your apologies about Dodger.

“We’re doing this for him too, so he can get to know you better. It’s okay with me.” He assured you after a passionate round of love making. You traced Dodger’s name on his bare chest, finger roving over the other scattered tattoos. He loved it when you traced them with your tongue and bit his nipples.

“I think I’d like to try another visit with him.” You finally admitted, peeking up at him from under your lashes. Chris grinned, pulling you closer.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

“I think I’m ready Chris. I want to meet the good boy who’s sharing your heart with me.”

Rolling over you, Chris pressed kisses over your collar bones and chest, hands squeezing your curves. Your lips mashed together in a sloppy kiss and you felt him smile against you.

“There is no one else I’d rather give my heart to other than you and him.”

+++++

This time when the door opened you were not hiding behind Chris. You held a soft chew toy in your hand, a gift and an apology. Dodger ran towards Chris, tail wagging aggressively as he licked and nipped at every exposed bit of skin he could find. Chris giggled as he rubbed and scratched his baby, and you were very proud of not making any distressed sound or running away. When Dodger finally turned to you, you tentatively came towards him with the toy.

“Hello Dodger, you sweet sweet boy.” You greeted. You’d been with dogs almost as big as him now and felt little apprehension touching his soft coat. He whined under your touch, leaning into you and rubbing against your legs. Chris joined you, his hand finding yours in Dodger’s fur.

“Look buddy, mummy is ready to meet you. You like her, eh?”

Dodger barked in agreement, rolling over for belly rubs while you stared at Chris coyly.

“Mummy eh?” You teased and Chris blushed, kissing you softly.

“Well, only if you’ll have Dodger’s dad.” He said.

You playfully sat down on the floor, letting the cutie climb on your lap and scratching behind his ears that made him purr in satisfaction.

“What do you say Dodge, should I take him?” You asked and he wagged his tail, rolling around in your lap. You gazed lovingly at Chris, softly touching his bearded face.

“Well, only because Dodger says so.”

+++++

Taglist:

@shooting-star-love @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @bluemusickid @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel

[micahstravels]

Hum, Honey

—1

The year is 2021 and all the days have blurred together; one moment I was washing my makeup off and the next, I couldn’t see. The days were blurry, and I could no longer see. I feel like I’m moving backwards somehow, and the thing about going backwards while everyone else moves forward is that they appear to be going much faster. I find myself watching the blurred rush of people around me, while I sit at my kitchen table with my chemistry book open, thinking, how are you accelerating so quickly? And then, who put my brakes on?

There is a knot at the base of my spine. I’ve already begun to twist myself around it, and my fear is that I’ll get stuck there. When they ask what happened to me, I’m afraid they’ll ask, but didn’t she do it to herself?

—2

You grinned. “That’s Mexico, baby,” you said to no one in particular; the sun was in my eyes. We walked six kilometers that hot day and you talked for five of them, which is unlike me, but when you’re around I’m not entirely sure who to be yet—so I guess I’ll settle for quiet?

“Mexico, baby.” You said it like it was yours to tell and I felt annoyed. Quietly annoyed. The air smelt of corn roasting and leftover trash and the sea, and you said that you could never get used to the smell of this place. I said, really? I think it’s the best smell in the world. I said that even when I lived in New Zealand and the air was so clean it was as if it had been filtered, I still woke up craving the grunge of Mexico.

You were quiet for a minute after that. Quiet for the first time in five kilometers.

Nah, you finally said, with a confident shake of your head. You told me that you’d rather breathe in artificially clean air than whatever these conflicting smells are. You grinned again and I turned to squint at you through the sun, because you are so damn cute and I love the way your eyes crease when you smile, and yeah, sometimes I do feel lonely. But I do not feel lonely enough for you.

I’m sorry, I said, but I don’t think this is going to work out. “It’s not Mexico; it’s you, baby.” And by saying that I hope it was implied that I am ok on my own. I spun around and walked the six kilometers back, talking out loud to myself, airing out all my unused words. My lungs were filled to the brim with roasted corn and leftover trash and the sea, and I was all by myself in Mexico, but I did not feel lonely. Not even once.

Later, they will ask you why I left. Do you think it was because she was already in love? I hope that you say yes. Yeah, you should say, I'm pretty sure she was in love. Yeah, now that I think about it, she was definitely in love.

You would be right, for once. “It's my Mexico, not yours, baby.”

—3

My sister calls, asking what stuff of mine to bring from Mexico to New Zealand so that I can take it to Israel. I don’t need much, I tell her, just bring my books and my tea mugs and that one pillowcase I bought at the San Miguel market and the rug I found in a street alley in Greece and a few of my clothes. In other words, I don’t need much—just all the things that will let me continue my life as seamlessly as possible in a completely new country. I need everything that belongs to me to be with me before I drag it across the world to somewhere else.

I find myself at a different kitchen table thinking, how can I be accelerating so quickly? And then, wait, who took my brakes off?

—4

In the quiet restaurant, it is obvious that the dark-haired boy in the booth facing me is in love with the blonde girl facing him. He stares at her, slightly bewildered, from beneath his black lashes. When their buzzer rings, he stands up too fast and trips, which makes her laugh. He grins, she looks down shyly; his eyes soften. Go and get the food, she tells him. He bends down, pulls her face to his. “I just love you so much,” he mumbles to her, “I can’t believe it.” Then he walks away.

If I could tell you something—

“I feel," wrote Madeline Miller, “like I could eat the world raw.” Yeah, me too, but when I tried to do that, I burnt my tongue and then everything lost its taste for a while.

—5

We were in a café at ten-thirty at night and she said that she’d like to have kids and have them soon. I asked her if she had any names in mind and she said yes. She pulled out her phone and read the list: girls first, then boys. For the life of me, I still don’t know why tears collected in my eyes in that moment. We want different things, her and I, and I moved halfway across the world in search of mine, and now I’m off again. But the mere thought of her unborn children? It’s enough that I feel a pull to stay. The knot at the base of my spine aches. She laughed and said that the years have made me softer; I never would’ve cried over something like future baby names before. Yes, they have changed me and no, I never would have dared. But thank God, I told her, because every kid needs a weepy, nostalgic auntie at their birthday party telling them what the weather was like on the day they were born.

She was suddenly serious. “You’ll fly back for them?” she asked. Outside it’s humid and I can hear the faint shouts of drunk teenagers screaming Selena lyrics, but inside this café it’s quiet, it’s just us. “You’ll fly back for them?” The knot in my spine is on fire. Yes, I’ll fly back for you; I’ll fly back for all of them.

If I could tell you something. Sometimes I think about standing up in the middle of my own life. I picture myself pushing back my chair to interrupt whatever this endeavor is, saying, “I’m sorry, but this is not what I want anymore. Please excuse me.”

But melodrama in real life is rarely as gratifying as it is in my head.

If I could tell you something it’s that I would stay but I cannot stay, because she brought me my suitcase and in it were the rugs, pillowcase, books, tea mugs and everything else that belongs to me that I need with me before I drag it across the world to start a new life in a place that is far from her, far from them. I’m doubled over from the knot in my spine.

My hope is that in moving so far away from the people I love (to pursue what I love), they will understand that I mean it when I say I’m sorry. Years from now, when she looks up from the dim window of the restaurant that she agreed to meet me in, she’ll see me staring down at the map on my phone, and I hope in that moment she’ll smile at the sleeping baby in the carrier next to her, the baby whose name I’ve kept with me all these years, and she’ll shake her head cause your aunt is always a bit late, darling, and there will be tears in my eyes when I hug her because it’s me, I flew back, and then, I’m sorry for leaving.

If I could tell you something, it’s that I took all my first loves for granted.

When they ask you if I was already in love, you should say that I’ve been in love for a long time already. When they ask you why I said no, tell them that I was already in love, and I did not know what to do. The days blurred together, makeup was running into my eyes and my spine was on fire. I was in love with so many people in countries I did not live in—I did not know what to do.

Ok?

—6

He said, oh my gosh, Israel, Micah. “I’ll come visit you in Israel.”

Honey, the sea.

He said, med school. “You’re going!”

Do you remember us at the beach? Green sweater hanging off your frame like a sheet flapping in the wind. Honey, the sea. We were both there physically, but your eyes had a faraway look. I remember what we looked like before we grew up. If I’d known then that growing up meant you’d outgrow me, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted it so much.

He shook his head. “I never said that I couldn’t believe it.”

When you began doubting everything, I stood by quietly. But then you began to doubt me.

I mean this in the nicest way possible: I don’t want your hand-me-down woke shit. You’re pulling yourself apart, but stop getting mad at me for not doing the same.

He said, you knew it all along, didn’t you, Micah? “You knew you would never be happy with anything else.”

“Your twenties are for questioning.” Have you found answers?

He said the feeling inside is accomplishment. “All you, baby.”

You came at me and my home with a sledgehammer in the name of inclusivity. But you slept here, you ate here, you cried here, you used to live here. You were safe here. Now you want to tear it all down? Even though it’s not yours?

Destroy your own peace, but don’t you dare come for mine.

He said, I couldn’t be prouder, Micah. “I think I’ll burst.”

I remember us on the beach, how you looked in the hazy morning light. Your eyes. Green sweater, grey sea. We sat on the sand and I said, if you want to leave me that’s fine, I understand. You said, it’s not that I want to leave, it’s just that I feel like we’re too different now. I said, can’t we co-exist with our differences? And you said, not when they’re this big.

I think back to that morning on the beach: I was looking right at you but I couldn’t see you anymore—so immense was the bitterness in your eyes.

He said I’ve never been to Israel, Micah. He grinned and his eyes creased. “But now I guess I’ll go all the time.”

I will state my case one last time, then I will back away. When you look at me, I know that you see a girl left behind. You see me as old fashioned, as unwilling to shift my viewpoint from a book that’s “so outdated anyway.” But bitterness has a way of obscuring the whole picture, such that you have forgotten Who has been next to me this whole time. It was never going to be a case of pulling myself apart, because to do so would be to pull myself away from Him.

I will not give Him up. You can ask, plead, threaten to leave, talk about me behind my back, make your accusations—but I will not give Him up. I do not have the words to articulate what He means to me, how even if every friendship I ever had crumbled, I would still choose Him. I do not have words—just devotion, just love for Him. If that is all you see when you look at me and that offends you, then I am not sorry, I will not apologize.

You’ve been asking me the wrong question for months. Instead of asking will you? you should’ve asked me why won’t you? Maybe then you would have realized that all along we were searching for the same thing, you and I: safety, a sense of home, peace.

I found mine and I will never leave, but you have to know that you will always be welcome here. The door to this home that Him and I share will never be locked. We'll leave the light on for you, always.

He said, a new life, Micah. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

A new life, yes. I just didn't realize the great cost.

—7

My friend group is splintering. Literally, not figuratively. I regret that I was the first to announce that I am moving—I feel I triggered a chain reaction. And now I am weeping at night. I’m capable of moving to a different country: I can set up a home, buy myself the things I need. But I find I don’t feel quite as stable anymore, not without them.

I think, maybe, this is part of the appeal of marriage? The idea that, yeah, you can pack up your life and start somewhere else, but your home is also a person, you’re never quite homesick. Not like this at least. No, I am dizzy-homesick. I am disoriented-homesick. I am a-bit-unsteady-on-my-feet-homesick. I am heartbroken-homesick. I am homesick for my friends, all these beautiful loves of my life, these ones that have molded and shaped me for years. Five years isn’t that long, but it’s enough to grow up. And grow up, we did.

We danced all night. Hold my face in your hands and tell me that I will be ok. We’ll break every drinking glass in the house. Let’s go to Piha for sunset. I’ll drop you off at the airport in the morning. When I wake up crying in the hospital bed, yours is the face that I see. Your mom called and wanted to talk to me. We’re stretched for cash but there is always money for brie and baguettes. The sun melts over your deck. A bottle of red on the table between us. I’ll pick our books up from the library on my way home. It was a shit day, but you waited for me at the bus stop in the pouring rain. A pile of sunflowers on my desk. We eat lunch every Thursday together. Shared airpods. Crying, spilling, laughing, bawling, dancing, grieving, growing. I found you at our corner in the arts building and when I saw you sitting there, I burst into tears. Sing Don’t Take the Money for me one more time? When I fall asleep on the couch, you’ll pull the blanket over me. I cannot think about anyone else; I want you with me all the time.

When I think back on years of cultivated friendship, I understand that all along it was having a safe space for pain, loneliness and grief to be acknowledged. So much of adulthood is coming to the realization that others around you are carrying all those things, too—usually silently. I realize now that the crafted narrative we tell each other is triggered out of a sense that no one will stay if they know, so I’ll just keep quiet about this pain. Like that scene in Goodwill Hunting, when Will is screaming at Skylar, telling her that the pockmarks on his arms are actually cigarette burns from abusive foster parents. Honey, I didn’t know that, she responds quietly, her shoulders quivering. All along she thought he was ok; she didn’t know he was in so much pain. Honey, I didn’t know that.

My most beautiful moments in friendship have been conversations where this pain finds a safe space to be let out. Did you know that you can open your mouth and let your grief fly around the room? It will wreak havoc; it will make a huge mess. But did you also know that the time it takes to clean it up is the same number of seconds it takes me to let you know that I don’t plan on going anywhere? Honey, I didn’t know that.

In the hospital they removed my bandages and told me to air my wound out so that it could breathe. As you become an adult, they should tell you to air out your pain when you’re amongst people who love you, so that you too can breathe.

Five years isn’t that long, but it’s enough time to air out all the pain, clean it up and then heal. My friends told me that they prefer it when I can breathe, so that’s what I did.

I’m leaving soon; let’s go dancing one last time. We’ll share a bottle of red, sip out of broken glasses as the sun melts over your deck. It was a shit day, but we rode the bus home together and listened to Drake in your airpods. I will tell you about the books I borrowed from the library, and you’ll pretend to care as we drive to Piha for sunset. Before we fall asleep on the couch, I’ll be sure to pull the blanket over all of us. When I air out my pain and my voice cracks, I know that you will be listening. Honey, I know that now. Honey, I know you.

If I could take them with me, I would. “She is my phantom limb,” wrote Nora Ephron, “and I cannot believe that I am here without her.” They are all my phantom limbs, pieces of me that were always there because we lived in the same place for so long; I cannot believe that I am moving away from them.

At my kitchen table, I am weeping. I don’t want to accelerate this quickly. Someone, please, put my brakes back on.

But do you know what I think about, most of all? I think the kindest thing my friends have done for me is giving me permission to make new ones. When I announced that I was moving away, they took my face in their hands and reassured me: you are going to meet such amazing people. It’s our benchmark to know that we’ve grown up—that we as adults release each other into new friendships without a hint of jealousy or suspicion, because you know that what you have is good. My friends? They know that I will always come back. I’ll drag my suitcase full of ridiculous and useless things across the world, I’ll find them in the dim light of the restaurant they said they’d be waiting in, I’ll fly back for all of them, and I think only then will the knot in my spine cease to ache.

Honey, I’ll come back for you and you and you and you.

They said goodbye and tears were running down their cheeks; they said that they couldn’t wait to one day meet all of my new friends.

I never want to be loved in any other way.

—8

I am on the phone whilst making dinner. This is taking so long, he says, we just need to know if you’re a match. I am cradling the phone between my cheek and shoulder, chopping vegetables at the same time. I can hear the very subtle hint of desperation in his voice. My hands are trembling, my desperation used to be subtle but now it is leaking out of me in ways that I could not have known. I put the knife down.

All I want is to be a match, I do not say. I know, I say instead, tears muffling the phone. I know.

I’ve heard it said that parents would do anything for their kids. But what about me? Do you know what I would do? The lengths I’d go to keep him here with me? One year (two, four, five years) in my twenties, all my thirties—I’d hand them over immediately to know that five years (ten, twenty, forty years) from now, I can look up and still see him standing there.

October 16th. Mom is hurting and dad is hurting and I am hurting, and I can only handle one, maybe two max. I will count down the days until this whole thing is over and I can take my finger off the pause button and see all that I missed while trying to hold myself together.

“160 grams,” I tell a friend. “That’s how much the average kidney weighs.”

Picture my face. Picture my face and then burst into tears.

160 grams—but how do I measure the weight of a parent that is alive?

December 6th. “Good morning, Micah. We have received the results from your HLA antibody crossmatch test. I am delighted to let you know that you are a perfect genetic match for your father.” Good morning, Micah. We have received the results from your HLA antibody crossmatch test. I am delighted to let you know that your dad will live, you can unclench your jaw, he’ll be there to watch you finish growing up.

A mere 160 grams of a rust-colored organ, so small you can nearly close your fist around it, pulled from my body and placed in his. A piece of me given back. I am the sum of many things, but mostly, half of her and half of him.

The day the nurse called to tell me that I was a tissue match, I dragged the cushions off the couch and onto the sun-drenched patio. I was a starfish on those cushions, and I was crying in that honey-morning light and when I got up and left the sun, the buzzing in my skull had ceased and I was starving. I made poached eggs on toast and opened a package of biscuits that I dunked in a mug of tea, and there was the distinct feeling that the rest of my life was quietly resuming around me while I ate. Picture my face. Burst into tears.

“Hey mom, call me back when you get a chance. Love you.”

Put dad on the phone. Tell him that I really need him.

What did the surgeon tell you? My dad and I sit on the beach after a swim, the Pacific a bowl of blue before us. The surgeon told me that I might feel colder after the surgery. The ocean was freezing that day, but I jumped in immediately while he took his time. I haven’t swum with my dad in over a year. The surgeon told me that I will have to watch my salt intake. The saltwater stings my eyes, chaps my lips. The ocean is cleaner and bluer and crisper than it’s been in a long time. The surgeon told me that the transplant shouldn’t affect me having children of my own, should I ever want them. We watch the kids in lifeguard training, decked in their yellow rash shirts and red swimming caps. They sprint into the surf, a dozen little red-and-yellow buoys bobbing in the frothy waves. The surgeon told me that I look healthy, and my labs have all come back with flying colors. “So, you feeling good?” he asks. I nod. Yeah, feeling good. The surgeon told me that the next time he sees me, it will be in the operating room. I look over at my dad, the Pacific a crisp bowl of blue in front of us. Four kidneys, only two work. Five days prior, I’d been accepted to medical school. I might need a sweater next time I’m at the beach. Everything that I’ve ever wanted to happen is finally happening. I forgot to ask the surgeon if I can swim in the sea after my stitches are out.

160 grams. The way in which you say ‘I love you’ is the way in which I have defined myself.

160 grams (320, 640, 1,280 grams), I’d hand over as many grams as they’d take if I could guarantee that in five years (ten, twenty, forty years) I’ll look up and he will still be standing there, telling me that everything will be alright. The way in which you say, ‘I love you’.

When I woke up in hospital after the surgery, the pain was sickening. They didn’t tell me it would hurt like that. My mom came in that evening, right before she went up to see him. It worked, she said and there were tears behind her eyes. It worked? I asked. Everything is working beautifully, she said, like it’s his own. The pain doubled me in half all night but the next day I saw my dad. I saw his face and it was full of healthy color like it hadn’t been in years. The nurses were beaming at me while I was dizzy in a body that felt off-balance, but my dad took my hand, and his fingers were warm. Thank you, he said quietly. Thank you so much.

I’ve been searching for a particular feeling for years, one of utter happiness, elation and relief. The expression in his eyes was that feeling; my entire body was cracking open with that feeling.

I remember Renaud’s words that sustained me:

“I will love you until we run out of mornings.

Then I will love you in the dark.”

If I could describe the feeling of what it’s like to wake up in the morning again, after four years of a darkness so thick I could feel it running down my throat, then I would. But how can I describe it? When you slip out from under the fear that your parent will die, it is the feeling that the whole world has been returned to you.

When the morning came, it was not just the sun but my whole world that was returned to me.

April 15th. “I don’t know why people make this out to be a big thing. The way I see it, I am twenty-six years old, and I need my dad. I just really need my dad. I cannot be without him.” The way in which you say, ‘I love you’.

160 grams.

That’s how much the average kidney weighs.

The way in which you say, ‘I love you’.

I really need you.

Don’t make me go on without you.

You here and 160 grams less of me—that is all I want.

Tell me, can we go to the sea once our stitches are out?

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

------------------------------------

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

--------------

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

---------------------

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

-------------------

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

---------------------------

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter 5.5

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

A./N: 18+ as always.

This took a while to write but may be my favorite so far. 

------------

Here’s the thing about Eloise: she’s surprising.

That first morning when they met, he had expected her to look away and shuffle out of the lobby, leaving him and Gabby to the post-coital pleasantries. The old woman who lived there before would always cross herself and look down when she saw him with one of his women in the mornings. Her, though- looks him straight in the eye and says good morning, with his name he didn’t tell her, then waltzes out with a smile on her face like she just put him in his place. Maybe she did.

   Then she’s there, again, after he gets a bullshit call from the office to come in. He almost doesn’t notice her, he’s so focused on getting a cigarette to calm him down. He’s got a curse ready when he realises his lighter is out of fluid and it’s the only fucking one he has, but then there’s a voice.

  “Need a light?”

  He looks over and it’s the same woman from the morning. She’s cute. Big eyes, long eyelashes like one of those dolls his cousins had as kids. The pencil skirt she’s got on is tight, tight enough he can’t help but wonder where she keeps the lighter she extends out to him.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. She waves him off, swinging the small purse from her opposite side to drop the lighter in. They stand there for a moment in the silence before he decides he owes her a formal introduction.

  And she gets him again.

  “My moms the author.”

  “What?”

  “I’m fucking with you.”

  It makes him smile.

    He wakes up earlier the next morning. Then the next. Then the next until it’s a routine. Usually, he’s not in the office until 9, but now that he knows there’s someone next door, he’s noticing more, like the sound of feet scuffling on carpet in a hurry and the squeak of a wardrobe swinging open. And once he starts to hear them, he can’t tune them out. It makes him anxious, listening to someone bustle around him as he lays doing nothing. He doesn’t like being unprepared.

  So he starts to get up earlier. Which means he leaves earlier. Which starts to mean he runs into her. When he starts to get shit at the office for it - look who’s here, what, the brothel stopped offering continental breakfast? - he tries to sleep in again. He’s determined to, but he can’t. Hearing someone so close busy themselves around him while he just lies down drives him crazy.

  So, he gets ready early now.

The coffee shop on the way to work is happy for the new business.

—————

He only stood outside smoking that first time because of the smell. He had left something in his fridge too long and the power cut off while he was at work, and now the whole apartment smelled rotten. He has tried smoking inside, fill the air with smoke, but it only made him sick. He decided he’d smoke outside until he’s numbed his senses. He doesn’t smoke outside to run into her. It’s just what happens.

  The second day the apartment still smells. The third day, too. That’s when she joined him for the first time, siding up beside him like they had been meeting there for years. After that, if he discovers that if he doesn’t have at least one cigarette outside, it’s all he can smell when he walks in.

  So, he smokes outside now. With her.

  Her and her little questions.

  He doesn’t mind them. Not at first. Not if it was just small talk. But she takes his answers and runs with them. He’s not just from Laredo, he’s from the part of Laredo she knows because she visited once when she was 11 and she remembers Señora Garza’s discoloured hands as they made sandwiches in his corner’s BBQ stop and is she still alive? Does he miss the food? She misses the food in El Paso. Had he ever been? She doesn’t blame him. It’s a long drive.

  What’s annoys him is that he answers each one. What annoys him more is that he catches himself asking her questions too. What annoys him the most is that he thinks about her answers even after she’s snubbed her cigarette and gone inside.

  So, he gets up earlier, because he can’t stand the sound of her getting ready around him. He smokes with her, because if he doesn’t smell the night air and her perfume and the smoke all he can smell for the rest of the evening is his fridge. Now he’s a guy who asks stupid questions, who listens and laughs at work stories. He’s still working out the ‘because’ for that one. He thinks it has something to do with the pencil skirts. Hopes it does, anyway.

    ———————

  He just needs to fuck her.

  That has to be it. He just needs it out of his system. Not the best circumstances, considering she’s his neighbor, but he’s lived with worse before. It would be worth it for the extra sleep and the money he’d save on coffee and cigarettes. For the self respect he’d regain once he stopped lingering outside around 5:30 every evening to smoke (also the time when she’s usually turning down the street, coming back from work).

  And she is cute.

  So that Friday, when she’s walking up the stairs - in another fucking tight pencil skirt - he’s ready with an invitation. And it goes much better than he thought. He’s a pretty confident guy, but even he has to admit having a pretty woman tell him she’s masturbated to him, all while her cheeks have a rosy flush and she’s so endearingly embarrassed yet daring, yeah, it makes his face flush. It also makes him realise maybe she needs this out of her system just as badly as he does.

  So he gets them another drink. He inches his fingers up under the hem of her skirt. And when she asks if he’ll walk her home, his hand is only a little clammy when when he reaches out and takes hers, leading her through the bar and out into the night.

  The sex is good. Really good, if he’s honest. But most first time fucks are, aren’t they? Well, first time, second time, and third time, in this case - like he’s back in fucking college. He blames the drink. He blames the pencil skirts. He blames the way she teases him in turn and the bites she leaves on his neck after he calls her baby.

  Before she leaves she makes him promise it’s not going to be weird, that she’d miss their smoking sessions, that they’ll be friends.

  He thinks back to all his friendships with women. Despite that, he tells her yes.

  Friends.

  ————-

   He’s never been a particularly good friend, either.

  Maybe that’s why when she comes out that Sunday afternoon, when his mind is still replaying the events from that night before, he snaps at her. Because she’s a fucking third grade teacher, and she’s sweet, and that pisses him off. Because her world is so far away from his. Because if she saw a kid get murdered, she could cry or scream and wouldn’t just have to press it down and just deal with it like he has to, because its just another part of his job. So when she comes out, her hair a mess and a big oversized sweater on her shoulders and those big eyes looking him up and down like he’s a real person and not the husk he feels like, he loses it.

  Mind your own fucking business.

  He stalks off, letting his feet lead him to the nearest brothel. He asks for Vanessa, and she takes him up to her room, but once his jeans are off and he realises he can’t. That in addition to feeling like shit about the night before, he now feels bad because he was so needlessly cruel. And even though Vanessa tries her hardest, and god, that girls hardest try is the best in the country, he pulls his limp dick from her mouth and pays her full price anyway, apologising as he fixes his jeans and leaves.

  He tries to shower. He tries to jerk off. He tries to down a glass of whiskey, then two, then a half a pack of cigarettes. But when he’s not thinking about how he’s a monster for the night before, he’s thinking he’s a dick for that afternoon. It gets to be too much. Maybe because of the drink or the guilt or just old fashioned masochism, he’s at Eloise’s door. When she stands before him, her arms crossed and waiting, biting back at him with his own words - mostly just minding my own fucking business - he nearly falls into a pathetic string of apologies there. I’m sorry. You’re good, I’m bad. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You deserve better friends.

  But then she lets him come inside. She lets him be a sad sack on her couch. And when he tries to leave, to protect her from the bullshit that’s spinning around in his head, she reaches out and grabs his hand, telling him to stay. Because she’s there, and she’ll listen, or she won’t if that what he wants, and that’s what friends do.

  Friends also, apparently, give you really good head, and let you work your anger and sadness and fear out by fucking them raw on their couch. Then, they let you fall apart to them, like a fucking kid, until they pull you against their warm body and press a soft kiss, much softer than you deserve, against your temple before lulling you into the best sleep you’ve had in months.

  When he wakes up and sees her still under him, her hand still in his hair as she sleeps, he has to remind himself who he is before he does something stupid, like curl his body around her closer or pull the blanket around them tighter or stay and make her coffee. So he slips out of her hold, gets dressed, and spends the next thirty minutes outside her unlocked door, until he finally hears her stirring and knows she’ll be safe alone.

  When Gabby comes over later, he makes up for the night before. Does his best to remind Eloise and himself who, exactly, he really is. Not soft. Not scared. And certainly, not a good friend.

  ——————

  She doesn’t let him off that easy, and he’s too stupid to untangle himself. It would have been so simple to just keep walking through those doors when she called out to him, keeping his down and ignoring her. To be the asshole. But despite himself, he’s pulling his cigarettes out and standing beside her once again. He’s asking about her day at work, about the kids (whose names he remembers- he doesn’t even remember some of his cousins’ names). When she turns to head back inside - her leaving him! - she squeezes his shoulder as a way of goodbye. It’s friendly, something he’d do to a colleague, but it makes his chest light in a way not even two more cigarettes and a guilty conscience can weigh down.

   ...

   He just needs to fuck her again.

   Surely, that’s the problem here. It’s not that their talks have gotten longer, or that her perfume lingers in the hallway, or that she makes him laugh more than anyone has in a while. It’s all because she’s been leaving the second button on her blouses undone, and he can see the faint mark he left not even a week earlier. It’s because she keeps wearing those fucking skirts. And also, he is loathe to admit, she’s probably some of the best sex he’s had in a while.

  So, he’s not expecting her to turn his invitation down. He’s especially not expecting her to look that good in that short black dress she’s wearing when she offers him a drink. The hour before her friends- her real friends - show up, his hands are itching as he watches her throat when she throws back drinks, or the v of skin that the fabric cuts over her breasts. He can already see her night ahead of her— bunch of empty headed lotharios pushing up against her, grinding on her on the dance floor, shouting offers for more drinks in her face. She’ll come home completely disillusioned and drunk, and really, it’s the friendly thing to do to offer her an out. Whatever she’s looking to find tonight is already next door.

  Well. He thought.

  When he pops his head out later that night, ready to generously extend his offer of companionship again, he’s not expecting to see some man- a fucking kid, even- pressing her up against her door, his tongue shoved down her throat. When she turns and sees them, he’s suddenly feels like a high school principal who just caught two teenagers making out at prom. She’s only a handful of years younger than him, but seeing her like this now, with some young, muscled hot heat sucking on her neck - you want a picture or something?- he’s never felt older.

  So, like the old man he is, he tries to go to bed and sleep the humiliation off. Only, this time, he’s the one pulling a pillow over his ears to muffle the moans coming from the other side. Whoever Issac is, he must have a 12 inch dick or vibrating fingers or both, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a woman be this vocal. It only hurts his ego a little bit (a lot a bit) that he had her in a similar position just days earlier with a much less vocal response. By the time they start again, less than thirty minutes later (fucking twenty year olds) he’s throwing the covers off him and stalking to the dresser for his cigarettes, deciding a night on the couch would be better than having to lay there and listen to her breathy little moans or his ugly grunts. As he comes to stand in front of the mirror, however, he catches his reflection in the light and frowns when another, girly gasp permeates the wall. Despite himself, he wonders how much better Issac looks naked, how he’s probably got a good back and defined muscles and not the body of a middle aged smoker with bags under his eyes and a small but present belly. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in self pity. But when another breathy shriek breaks him out of his trance, he huffs and snatched the cigarettes from the dresser, marching towards his living room and away from the noise.

  The next morning, when he catches her in her sundress (that he just knows she’s not wearing underwear beneath), he tries to mimic her cool demeanor from the previous week, when the tables were turned. There’s a look in her eye though, like she knows, a hunch that’s proved right when she saunters up to him and pulls the cigarette from his dumb speechless lips, taking a long drag and maintains eye contact with a smug little smile.

  Oh Javi, it’s not serious .

  When he’s jerking off on his couch ten minutes later, he imagines she and that sundress are on top of him, and what he does with his fingers turns that smug little smile into a breathy ‘o’.

   —————————

  More than anything, he’s pissed when he’s shot. The one time he didn’t wear the tactical vest and he gets clipped. He hates being fussed over, and Murphy’s being such a mother hen about it- he even calls his estranged wife and asks her to rattle off advice to his partner over the phone, like he hadn’t just spent an hour getting patched up. No drinking, no “rapid movements”, and you really should stop smoking.

  He picks up a pack on the way home.

  Murphy offers to stay with him, but the idea of having Steve hover over him is almost more off-putting than being shot again. So he sends his partner upstairs with his half of the take out - fucks sake, I’ll be fine- and goes into his dark little apartment. He shovels the luke-warm food in his mouth and sits in the silence and tries to think of anything else but the fact he’s been hearing music from next door, or how it’s already 8 pm on a Friday, and that if she’s home she probably doesn’t have plans, which means it would be really easy to knock on the wall and ask if she wants to share a drink he shouldn’t have. Her, a woman he shouldn’t be inviting over in the first place. Even if she is funny and biting and caring in a way that still makes him feel like he can breathe.

  Without thinking, he’s by the wall, fist raised and ready to knock, before he stops himself.

  There’s only one way this can go, given his track record, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And smart. Pretty. She could do a hell of a lot better on a Friday night that sit with him. If he were a good friend, he’d leave her alone and simmer by himself.

    ——————

  “Isn’t that shirt supposed to be white?”

  Javier has never been a particularly good friend.

  ——————

  When she falls asleep on his arm, her legs kicked out under the coffee table covered in ash and alcohol, he’s still up. He lies awake and stares at the ceiling, too aware of the weight of her head against him to relax into sleep, lest the sudden movement wake her and she leaves- which right now, under the safety of booze and cigarettes and hours of laughing, he can admit to himself - would be the worst thing to happen today.

...Jesus, the way that sounds.

Maybe, if he weren’t so drunk, and if he hadn’t almost died, and if she hadn’t come over and asked him questions about his mom and made him laugh and tried for thirty minutes to convince him to buy an actual boat, he would be able to snap back to himself and think clearly.

  But, right now, her head is on his arm, it’s dark outside, and Javier is warm.

  ——————

  She tried to leave. She had done her friendly duty- deposited him in bed, forced him to drink water, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night. She was almost free of him, but then he just pulled her down beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t thinking. He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

  He waited for her to push back against him. Payback, maybe, for sneaking out on her the last time. Or just common sense shining through. But instead she pulled the comforter over them both and threw a leg over his middle, cuddling into his shoulder.

  Against his ear, she mumbled “These sheets better be washed.”

  ——————

  He woke to sound of someone knocking on his door. Eloise had somehow flipped her body diagonally, the way all women seem to do when they’re deeply, deeply asleep. He rolled out, careful not to wake her, before heading to the living room and unlocking the door.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  Javi sighed. “What do you want?”

  His partner held up a paper bag. “Took your bandages with me last night.”

  He reached out and took the bag, giving him a nod. “Thanks,”

  “You have a party?”

  Javi looked over his shoulder to the mess of a coffee table.

  “Allowed to celebrate cheating death, aren’t I?”

  “Uh huh.” The other man nodded to the pair of jeans on the floor. El has discarded them the night before after declaring them “too restrictive” when she had insisted on showing him how to do - and failed to execute- a handstand. “House call?”

  “Goodbye, Murphy,” he closed the door in his partners face, but not before hearing a muffled chuckle from outside. Stalking forward, he dropped the paper bag on the couch before picking up the bottle of pills and rattled them in his hand. He made back for the bedroom, thinking he could get away with sneaking a few while she was still out cold. He needn’t have worried, it turns out.

  “Give me two.”

  “These aren’t Tylenol, they’re real-“

  “Javier. Shut the fuck up and give me two.”

  He shut the fuck up and gave her two.

  ——————

  “I don’t want to eat. I want to smoke and go back to bed.”

  “You can smoke and eat. They did it in the 50’s all the time.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re supposed to eat with those pills, Javier.”

  “I’ll eat later, give me the pack.”

  “No. You’re having a piece of toast.”

  “You’re not my godda-what the fuck are you doing? Turn off the burner—-DON’T-“

  ——————

  Sucker.

  A goddamn sucker.

  Why else would he be pouring over a bunch of papers written by kids who could barely write?

  Why else would he check so often if he was doing it right? Like this actually mattered? He started off giving most of them a lucky break, but when he saw how concentrated she looked, biting the end of her pen and circling words with a flourish, smiling to herself when she gave a check or drew a little happy face, he slowed down. Now he was thinking more about comma use than he had in his entire life.

  It’s worth it, though, when she’s sat in between his knees, head bobbing up and down on him as she sucks him off. When she looks him in the eyes as she jerks him, smiling before licking up along the side, he almost comes embarrassingly early. He decides that he’d gladly spend two hours grading shitty sentences if it means he can watch you deep throat him every Sunday afternoon.

  He won’t draw smiley faces though.

  He had his limits.

  ——————

  He’s not too sure what possessed him to kiss her like that. Sometimes after they’re done and she’s pulled her clothes back on, she’ll bend down to the bed and give him a peck. Other times she just leaves with a wave. Once she slapped his ass. He liked that goodbye quite a lot.

  But this time, he’s reaching out and catching her lips in a kiss that’s much more than thanks for the fuck and the cigarettes, get home safe. Something in his body bypasses his brain, and it takes a lot of conscious willpower than it should to finally pull himself back, even more so when her mouth chases his.

  Later, when he’s sober, he’ll explain it away as a thank you for the weekend. Or that he was still horny. Or a combination of both.

  Either way-

  “Get home safe.”

  —————

  So maybe that’s why he decides he should really be giving you rides to work. Safety.

  That’s reasonable. That’s a friendly thing to do.

  The dinners are harder to explain to himself. He tries to reason you’re both saving money on groceries this way. He read somewhere in one of those awful magazines that the embassy has on waiting tables, the kind that haven’t been updated in years, that food waste is a problem in America.

  But saving the environment isn’t why he sticks around for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour after they’ve both finished your cigarettes. It’s not a bleeding heart for the whales that makes him hold his breath for her answer when he asks her to come in for a drink. It certainly has nothing to do with the urgency with which he bends her over his kitchen table, scattering the empty take out containers onto the floor, before hiking another fucking pencil skirt up over her hips. He wishes it explained it. Because then it would be easier to dismiss the way his hand begins to fall on her knee during the early morning commutes, or the way he can’t relax until he hears those three ridiculous knocks after she leaves him in his bed.

  He chalks it back up to her safety and tries not to think any deeper than that.

   ——————

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby?’”

  There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who can beat you at your own game. There’s also something very, very sexy about how her mouth pouts around the word, sardonic and mocking as her tone is.

  He’s only got himself to blame. He made the first move by dismissing that 70s nightmare. She had walked past him that night at the bar multiple times, staring through him when he had waved. His rational side told him she was distracted by her girlfriends and the music and just didn’t see him, but the other side- the side he often found himself on when it came to women- was pissed. Maybe that’s why he picked up the first hot body that made eye contact with him, strategically leading her over to the bar where he could keep and eye on Eloise’s back- fuck, she did look good in a backless shirt- while keeping his new friend entertained. Just like he had wanted, one of her friends pointed him out to her, and she made for the bar minutes later. He was surprised when she struck up conversation with Miguel, Colombia’s answer to Sunny Bono if he’d ever seen one, and a little insulted, too, if he’s being honest. If she was going to try and make him jealous, she could have picked someone who didn’t look like his parody. So when - ah fuck, what was her name, Maria? Lourdes? Doesn’t matter - went to the restroom, he took the chance to intervene and ruin her little game.

  What he didn’t expect was that she’d hit back harder.

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

  No. Not mad.

  Impressed. Challenged. Uncomfortably hard against his jean’s zipper. But not mad.

  But she likes being fucked rough, so he plays along. He grabs her by her hair, pushes her into her apartment, and takes her up against her door. When she’s just about to cum, he pulls out of her and tries not to laugh when she whips around with that crazed, angry look in her eye. It doesn’t take much (who is he kidding, he was never going to leave) before he’s got her bent over the sofa, pumping into the wettest, tightest cunt he may have ever felt in his life.

  The most unforgivable thing, though, and the moment that played through his mind as he drove home the night he should have died, was how she deposited herself on his lap afterwards. How those slender fingers reached out and took his cigarette, like she always did, and smiled through the smoke down at him. Naked and confident and so fucking pretty.

  “Baby,” she had called him, and it sent a jolt through his chest. “I would have asked which pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

  When they were in her shower an hour later, inadvertently testing just how non-slip her bath mat really was, he replayed her voice in his head. Baby, baby, baby.

   ————————

  He knew before he even stepped out of his car where he was going. And that scared him.

  He wasn’t this guy. He had made sure of it. It was best for everyone. It made him good at his job. He saw fucked up shit, did fucked up shit, but he never made it anyone else’s problem who wasn’t already there beside him, watching and participating. He managed it with drinking and denial and never hanging a picture of his mother up, afraid to meet her eyes and recoil at what she would think of him, even though she was years dead. If it was really bad, he went to see one of his girls- they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t ask questions, and he always tipped them for it.

  He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have his hand held or a shoulder to cry on because if he started now, he didn’t know if he could stop. And that meant he’d lose the hard shell that made him able to keep doing this goddamn job every single day, and that would mean everything he had done, all the fucked up decisions made for the greater good, whatever that meant anymore, would be for nothing.

  But now, he’s standing in front of her door, hands shaking at his sides, trying to decide what he’s more afraid of: being alone or letting her see him like this. He had gone to her, maybe stupidly, after he saw the kid get shot, but that was different. That was an explanation for being a dick. This was seeking comfort. Intimacy. The antithesis of the system of drink fuck repress and repeat that had served him so well for the past ten years. He should have turned and walked to his apartment. He should have gone out the door to the nearest brothel and made a fool out of himself in front of some girl who saw this shit thirty times a day. He should have never started smoking to Eloise in the first place, because that led to talking and that led to sex and that led to the inconvenient, humiliating feeling that now filled his chest whenever he saw her or smelled her perfume and drove him to do stupid things like stand on her doorway at midnight ready to fall apart. If she was smart, she’d be asleep or ignore him. It’s what he deserves.

  But he knocks.

  And she comes running.

  ———————-

  He doesn’t do tender. Not like this.

  He doesn’t like to be taken care of. He’s the one who takes care of people, in his own messy, selfish, fucked up way. It makes him feel like he’s failing at the one thing he’s supposed to do - be the strong one, protect the innocent, whatever crap they peddled about his job. To be weak like this feels like admitting defeat, to admit that something finally got to him in a way he may not be able to bounce back from.

  He’s ashamed when he walks in and pours himself out like he does. He’s even more ashamed that he couldn’t just deal with this on his own, and his first instinct had come to her and fuck up her night. It’s almost like he can see himself from across the room, and he wants to reach out at stop his dumb ass from falling apart so spectacularly like he does. She doesn’t deserve this, and it’s not her responsibility. He worries that by doing this, he’s wrecking the only safe harbour he’s got left in the country. She is fun and light and blow jobs and laughter and good tequila, and he’s poisoning what they have by being so disgustingly raw in front of her.

  He waits for her to finally break and tell him it’s finally too much. That he’s a shithead cop who has done nothing but annoy her since they first met. That maybe he’s getting all that he deserves, at last, for all the awful things he’s done, and she rightly doesn’t have any sympathy for a man like him. This was fun, Javi, but I didn’t sign up for this.

  But that’s the thing about Eloise. She’s surprising.

  So when she reaches his hand out, he doesn’t quite believe her. She has to reach down and take it herself before he’s standing up and following her down the hall, not completely in control of his own body. He’s dumbstruck as she undresses him, so softly, like he’s something that could break underneath her help. It’s not until he’s pressed against her and she’s kissing the top of his head that he finally, finally lets go and lets himself believe that maybe he can have this, just for tonight.

So he pulls her closer, and he lets a sob rock through his body, and he tries not to cry when he feels her grip him tighter in response.

   When he wakes up, he knows he should let her sleep. She’s got work tomorrow and he’s got to go back to the embassy with a straight face and determination to get back to work. He had his moment of weakness, and now he should leave her alone. Slip out of her hold and her apartment and, if he was a good man, out of her life all together.

  Javier’s never been a particularly good man.

  So he reaches for her and cups her cheek. When her eyes flutter open and she says his name, so soft and so full of concern, his chest expands.

  He’s not good with words. Not the ones that matter. So he does what he is good at. He pulls her against him and kisses her and tries to treat her as gently as she treated him, like somehow if he could do this right, she’ll know. From the way she keeps her eyes on his as he pushes into her, he thinks she does.

  He wishes he was better. He wishes he could just tell her these things during the day, when he’s thinking straight, not just when he’s emotionally cored out. She deserves someone who can use their words, who don’t need to be at their very bottom and most needy to realise something that’s been growing inside them all along. He hates that in the morning, he’s going to look back at this and cringe at just how intimate and vulnerable he let himself be around her, that he’s going to have to brick himself back up just so he can get back to doing his job. He wishes, pathetically, stupidly, that the entire world could just be this dark bedroom and the noises she’s making and the way she feels around him.

  When it’s over, he falls against her, still entangled and unable to let go quite yet. He tells himself he’ll roll off her before he goes to sleep, because staying like this, surely, would be too much. But then he feels her fingers on his back, running up and down his spine as he lays against her, breathing in the faint smell of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

  In the morning, he’ll have to deal with this. Have to decide what lie he’s most comfortable with telling himself. But for right now, he can admit this is what he wants.

  Sometimes he can be pretty surprising, too.

--------

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🌎 CULTURAL DIFFERENCES 🌍

Prompt: Y/N and Baron decide to take a big step in their relationship and moving in together. Everything seems to go pretty smoothly for them, until they bump into some little (and sometimes fun) cultural differences.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Baron Corbin x Reader

Warnings: Apart from some cultural beliefs and cursing, nothing really.

Notes: I wanted to go smooth with my first fic with this giant teddy bear as a character. This little story is all based on my own country cultural beliefs. I’ve heard all of this ever since I was a little girl ok? None of this was made up! It’s written in both Y/N’s and Baron’s POV. Each scene is isolated, they do not complete each other. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Y/N, can you please explain to me why in the hell do you need all of this?” He lifts up my perfectly organized (and not so small) jewelry box

“Babe, please put that down. You’ll take all of my stuff out of order” I say as I’m finishing doing my hair

He places the box down and start to dig through the drawers.

“Jesus, babe! Did you robbed a bank to buy all of these?” He’s incredibly amused by the amount of different shapes and sizes pieces.

“Don’t let your eyes fool ya, Corbin” I laugh “Only the ones on the first drawer to the left are real”

He takes a silver thick chain with small discreet rhinestones on it and stares at the piece of jewelry.

“Oh, those are nice” I say “You can borrow ‘em if you’d like”

He looks at me “I would prefer to borrow these instead” He lifted up a golden bracelet with colorful rhinestones shaped as butterflies “What do you think? Should I wear these to work? Do you think they’ll match my outfit?” He playfully places the bracelet on top of his t-shirt, obviously mocking me, since I do the same thing when I ask his opinion.

“Shut up Corbin!” I laughed

“Why do you need so much bracelets, earrings, hoops, necklaces and rings?” He says

I look at him defiantly “Why do you need so many watches, cigars, vintage lighters and expensive cars?” I crook one eyebrow at him

“Touché, princess. My excuse is because I can, yours?” He playfully smirks

“Because that’s who I am! I grew up surrounded by women full of jewelry, lipstick and these” I show him my long nails as I stick my tongue out just like a child would

“I like those” He pointed at my nails “They feel real good when you pair them up with sweet moans begging me to go harder” He gives me one of his cocky smirks

“You’re so full of yourself” I defeatedly say

.....................…..............................................

“Hey baby girl, what you’re up to? WOW something smells really good in here”

“Oh hi” I look at Baron as he entered the kitchen “Thanks! I’m making dinner” I smile

“Oh yeah?!” He lifts a lid from one of the saucepans “What you’re cooking?”

“Nothing crazy, just a simple regular dinner. White rice, beans, some meat with potato and carrots, broccoli and cauliflower for salad. Plus milk pudding for desert, the same one my grandma always made”

“And that’s your idea of ‘simple dinner’?” He asks amused

“It is simple”

“When you said simple I thought you‘ve meant, meat and some bread or something like that” He vaguely said

“That’s like a snack, not proper dinner Baron”.

“It’s pretty common to have that for dinner you know”

I look at him in disbelief “If I ever suggested that as a dinner option back in my family’s house I would’ve been told to shut up and eat my goddamn vegetables! A proper meal isn’t a proper meal if it doesn’t have rice and beans.”

He laughs “Do you need me to get the beans for you?”

“Do you have it?” I gasp in shock

“Of course” He goes and opens one of the upper kitchen cabinets taking out a can of beans “Here” He hand it to me

My eyes widened “Please don’t tell me you eat this crap!” As I shake the can in front of his face

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks offended

“Everything Baron! If it comes in a can is not good for you! I’m talking about cooking dried beans, real beans. Not this pathetic excuse for a bean”.

“They taste the same Y/N”

“Have you ever eaten freshly cooked beans?” I ask defiantly

“No, but-“

“Then you have no right of opinion on this debate!” I huffed and he rolled his eyes

......................................................................

“What in the actual fuck?” I say as I got up from the bed.

I followed the very loud music coming from downstairs in the living room to find Y/N in some skimpy clothes, barefoot with her hair up in a bun singing and dancing to whatever rhythm that was. I go to the radio and turn the music down. Making her look behind.

“Oh you’re awake” She smiles fondly

“How could I not be with this deafening loud music? What are you doing?”

“It’s Saturday babe” She says as if that was supposed to mean something

“Yeah I know! It’s also fucking 8 a.m. and my day off! I would like to still be asleep!” I say angrily

“But it’s Saturday” She says again

“And what’s that suppose to mean Y/N?”

“Saturday is the official house cleaning day, love” She speaks slowly as if she was talking to a child “Would you like to take the bedrooms and bathrooms or the living and dining room plus the kitchen?” She smiled

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N? I would like to sleep! Sleep until fucking noon damn it! Official house cleaning day my ass” I scream as I make my way back to the bedroom slamming the door.

......................................................................

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARON?” She yelled

“Jesus fuck, you scared me! I’m cleaning as you can see” I say as I grab another piece of paper towel to clean the oven

“With paper towels?! Do you plan to bankrupt us and kill the environment too?”

“And what am I supposed to use to clean it?” I ask impatiently

She reaches one of the lower drawers and take a piece of one of her old shirts from it and hand it to me.

I just stare at her confused. She sighs before saying

“You use this to clean it, after you’re done you’ll wash it, put down to dry and once is dried you’ll store it back in the drawer again for future cleaning uses! That’ll save money and prevent more trees to get killed so you can clean your oven! Do I have to teach you everything babe?” She throws her hands in the air “Unbelievable” As she lefts me with a puzzled look on my face.

......................................................................

“Baron love, have you seen my purse?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve put it in there” He points to his side of the bed as he continues with his eyes glued to his video game.

“Ok, than- Baron!” I run towards my purse, snatching it quickly from the floor “Why did you put my purse on the floor?”

“Baby, where was I suppose to put it?”

“Not on the floor! I would like to keep my money you know?!” I huffed

“And what does your purse being on the floor has to do with you keeping your money?”

“EVERYTHING! You should know that placing your purse or wallet on the floor makes your money vanish”

“WHAT? Y/N, I’m sorry but that makes zero sense princess!”

“Shut up Corbin, you know nothing!”

......................................................................

“Baron, can you get the broom for me please?” I ask as he passed by me

“Yeah, sure”

He comes back with the broom on his hand “Here, I’ll help you” As he swiped the floor

“Thank you, my love”

A few minutes after I felt the biggest fear of my life becoming true

“Oh, sorry kitten...Are you ok?”

“Baron” I whisper “Please tell me that I’m getting delusional and you didn’t swipe my feet just now”

“Yeah I did, but-“ I raised my hand for him to stop talking

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks

“Yes you did. In fact, I’m never gonna get married now thanks to you!”

“What?” He chuckled “Please don’t tell me that this is one more of your crazy superstitions?” He’s full on laughing now

“Stop laughing dumb ass! It’s not funny and you should respect those things you know?!” I say annoyed

“Whatever you say babe” He dries his tears of laughter

......................................................................

“For God’s sake what is this awful smell?” I ask to myself as I entered the living room door “Y/N?”

She didn’t answer me. I decided to go on a hunt for my own woman inside my house, when I heard some mumbling

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Shhhh Baron, don’t interrupt me!”

“What on earth is this cursed smell?” I ask ignoring her

“It’s sage and some herbs” She whispers

“I’ve had a bad dream, so this will keep all of the bad juju out of here!” She says

“You know that will-“ As soon as I was about to remind her of the smoke alarm the little prick showed himself

“Oh fuck! I forgot about that, damn it! Shut up you evil little thing!” She says as she steps on the couch and wave her hands at it “Baron! Don’t just stand there, do something boy! Go get me a piece of cloth of something like that!” As she frantically waves her hands to prevent the smoke from going to the alarm

......................................................................

“Good morning kitten” I lean down to peck her lips

“Good morning handsome” She smiles “Coffee?”

“Yes, please”

She fills one mug with black coffee and give it to me

“Thanks baby” I take a gulp “You know, I’ve had this crazy dream last night”

“Oh yeah? About what, love?”

“There was this monkey and a deer. I was chasing them or something, I don’t know it was just so weird” I look at Y/N to find her typing ferociously on her phone

“Is everything ok, kitten?”

“Sure babe! I’m just texting my sister to mark me some numbers at the loteria”

“Why?”

“Because of your dream Baron! The monkey and the deer. They have a number at the loteria so who knows? Maybe we’ll gain some money at it to save it up?”

“But we don’t need money” I look at her almost laughing

“Still” She raises her eyebrows

......................................................................

“Yeah?” I scream

*Is she really gonna make me go down there?* I sighed

“Yeah baby girl?” I ask as I open the door

“What?” She asks confused

“What do you want babe? You were calling me” I say

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were Y/N, I was in the bedroom unpacking and I heard you clearly call for me two times”

“Baron, I swear on my mother’s life I did not called for you” She whispers, all the blood drained out from her face

“Oh, then I guess I misheard it”

“When you heard someone call for you, did you answered out loud?” She asks with fear in her eyes

“Well yeah! I thought you were the one who was calling me in the first place!”

She stood up from her office chair grabbing a small glass bottle with some water in it. She toss some of the water on her then on me

“What the fuck babe? What’s that?” I ask slightly angry

“Holy water! You heard something call for you with my voice, and you answered! Babe that is a bad omen, that means something evil is walking around here...Oh my God” She gasps in shock “Xander! We gotta bless him with some holy water too, we gotta protect him Baron! Oh no my poor baby Xander” She runs through the the hallway screaming for Xander.

Soon after she returns with Xander by her side. “He’s good now, thank God!” She reaches for her desk’s drawer again and grabbed a spray bottle “C’mon Baron, we’ve got to spray holy water in all of the doors and windows so it will scare away whatever that thing that called for you was” She lives her office again with the spray bottle in hand and a faithful Xander by her side.

God, why on earth did I decided to move in with that woman? She drives me crazy! But I would be lying if I said she wasn’t fun...

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp This is...Books. Lots and Lots of Books

That gif is something of a lie. Some of these books were not great. But! Some of them were very good! And some of them were marketed weird — seriously, what does qualify as YA — and some of them I read in, like, six hours and some of them I raged about for six hours after I finished them.

Or: 2020!Laura reverted to 2004!Laura and read just a lot of books and then her husband got her a Kindle and she read even more books and has thoughts on most of those books that she is now going to share with the internet while also making absurd category names. Note that these are only books I read for the first time this year. So, the list is missing some of the stuff I used as coping devices. ALSO SOME SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

FAVORITE BOOKS THAT MADE A SHITTY YEAR SLIGHTLY BETTER AND ALSO LIKELY MADE ME SWOON A BIT

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a terrifying creature arrives to demand retribution. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she knows about only from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not truly a beast, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world.

At least, he's not a beast all the time.

As she adapts to her new home, her feelings for the faerie, Tamlin, transform from icy hostility into a fiery passion that burns through every lie she's been told about the beautiful, dangerous world of the Fae. But something is not right in the faerie lands. An ancient, wicked shadow is growing, and Feyre must find a way to stop it, or doom Tamlin-and his world-forever.

— I kid you not, I had to do a lap around the apartment after reading the second book in this series. Why didn’t I read this before? Why isn’t there more fic? Why I am constantly falling for dark-haired sad dudes in love with their wives??? I cannot rec this series enough. It’s got world building and found families, and that dark-haired sad dude, and magic and lore and banter, and it’s so good and I don’t understand why it was marketed as YA. The literary world is weird, guys.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (and the Heroes of Olympus) by Rick Riordan

Accompany the son of the sea god Poseidon and his other demigod friends as they go on a series of quests that will have them facing monsters, gods, and conniving figures from Greek mythology. Do they have what it takes to save the Olympians from an ancient enemy?

— Straight up, how did you guys cope with Percy and Annabeth when you were kids reading this? I would have been OBSESSED. Quarantine felt like the perfect time to finally read all of these books, and I know it’s sacrilegious to like Heroes of Olympus, but I might have liked parts of that series more? Just because it felt like they were older and I was super into Percabeth being properly in love. Also, now I get why everyone was so upset about the movies. Fair.

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth's fate hinges on one girl. . . .Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister's illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai's, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world's future.

— Yet another YA series that I will admit to loving this year. Started off a little slow, but once the world building really got underway —and it gets underway — I was hooked. If I had read this at an age-appropriate time I would have been super in love Captain Carswell Thorne. I was still kind of in love with Captan Carswell Thorne. So it should come as no surprise that Cress was my favorite of the series, but I enjoyed the whole thing, really.

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Two years ago, Louise le Blanc fled her coven and took shelter in the city of Cesarine, forsaking all magic and living off whatever she could steal. There, witches like Lou are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.As a huntsman of the Church, Reid Diggory has lived his life by one principle: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. But when Lou pulls a wicked stunt, the two are forced into an impossible situation—marriage.Lou, unable to ignore her growing feelings, yet powerless to change what she is, must make a choice. And love makes fools of us all.

— YO. Y O. THIS WAS SO GOOD. World building! Magic! Marriage of convenience! Well-written enemies to lovers! As soon as I finished this, I bought the sequel. And then got upset the third book in the series isn’t out yet! That’s a frustrating theme for me this year.

The Roommate by Rosie Danan

The Wheatons are infamous among the east coast elite for their lack of impulse control, except for their daughter Clara. She's the consummate socialite: over-achieving, well-mannered, predictable. But every Wheaton has their weakness. When Clara's childhood crush invites her to move cross-country, the offer is too much to resist. Unfortunately, it's also too good to be true.

After a bait-and-switch, Clara finds herself sharing a lease with a charming stranger. Josh might be a bit too perceptive—not to mention handsome—for comfort, but there's a good chance he and Clara could have survived sharing a summer sublet if she hadn't looked him up on the Internet...

Once she learns how Josh has made a name for himself, Clara realizes living with him might make her the Wheaton's most scandalous story yet. His professional prowess inspires her to take tackling the stigma against female desire into her own hands. They may not agree on much, but Josh and Clara both believe women deserve better sex. What they decide to do about it will change both of their lives, and if they're lucky, they'll help everyone else get lucky too.

— I LOVED IT. L O V E D. As I told Justin “there was more porn than I was expecting,” in that porn and the adult film industry was a legitimate plot point and not just a part of Josh’s character, but it was incredibly well written and interesting and I cared about the plot. Sometimes I also wanted to shake Clara, but that was kind of the point.

The Marriage Game by Sara Desai

After her life falls apart, recruitment consultant Layla Patel returns home to her family in San Francisco. But in the eyes of her father, who runs a Michelin starred restaurant, she can do no wrong. He would do anything to see her smile again. With the best intentions in mind, he offers her the office upstairs to start her new business and creates a profile on an online dating site to find her a man. She doesn't know he's arranged a series of blind dates until the first one comes knocking on her door...

As CEO of a corporate downsizing company Sam Mehta is more used to conflict than calm. In search of a quiet new office, he finds the perfect space above a cozy Indian restaurant that smells like home. But when communication goes awry, he's forced to share his space with the owner's beautiful yet infuriating daughter Layla, her crazy family, and a parade of hopeful suitors, all of whom threaten to disrupt his carefully ordered life.

As they face off in close quarters, the sarcasm and sparks fly. But when the battle for the office becomes a battle of the heart, Sam and Layla have to decide if this is love or just a game.

— More well-written enemies to lovers! It’s possible! Seriously, the banter was so good. The kissing was even better. Ridiculous and interfering family is one of my favorite things, and this had it in SPADES. It also made me want to eat samosas, which is kind of my base setting, but I really wanted Indian food whenever I was reading this. Also, the end scene was so goddamn cute I cannot believe it actually happened.

Recipe for Persuasion by Sonali Dev

— The one that got away is one of my favorite tropes, and this modern version of Persuasion did it so well. Everyone was annoying, but in an almost understandable way that made me ache and I just wanted them TO KISS. And then they did kiss! And it was so good! Plus, at the risk of being a little self-indulgent, it was kind of Out of the Frying Pan esque and I liked that a lot. If there is a downside: it’s how quickly the relationship starts up again, like zero to 60 in two seconds flat, and that there were a lot of POVs. Which wouldn’t have been an issue if they’d been labeled, or weren’t bouncing around the timeline randomly. Sometimes I’d have to be like—wait, who’s talking about what?

Chef Ashna Raje desperately needs a new strategy. How else can she save her beloved restaurant and prove to her estranged, overachieving mother that she isn't a complete screw up? When she's asked to join the cast of Cooking with the Stars, the latest hit reality show teaming chefs with celebrities, it seems like just the leap of faith she needs to put her restaurant back on the map. She's a chef, what's the worst that could happen?Rico Silva, that's what.Being paired with a celebrity who was her first love, the man who ghosted her at the worst possible time in her life, only proves what Ashna has always believed: leaps of faith are a recipe for disaster.FIFA winning soccer star Rico Silva isn't too happy to be paired up with Ashna either. Losing Ashna years ago almost destroyed him. The only silver lining to this bizarre situation is that he can finally prove to Ashna that he's definitely over her.But when their catastrophic first meeting goes viral, social media becomes obsessed with their chemistry. The competition on the show is fierce...and so is the simmering desire between Ashna and Rico. Every minute they spend together rekindles feelings that pull them toward their disastrous past. Will letting go again be another recipe for heartbreak—or a recipe for persuasion...?

The Good Luck Charm by Helena Hunting

Lilah isn't sure what hurt worse: the day Ethan left her to focus on his hockey career or the day he came back eight years later. He might think they can pick up just where they left off, but she's no longer that same girl and never wants to be again.

Just when Lilah might finally be ready to let Ethan in, though, she finds out their reunion might have nothing to do with love and everything to do with improving his game. But Ethan's already lost her once, and even if it costs him his career, he'll do anything to keep from losing her again.

— HOCKEY ROM COM. HOCKEY. ROM. COM. Apparently this lady is regarded as the queen of “hockey romance,” which I kind of take offense to, but will give a pass on because this was a very cute book and everyone was cute in it and I was only marginally frustrated by those same people being idiots. As is required by rom coms. Hockey, or otherwise.

A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer

Fall in love, break the curse. It once seemed so easy to Prince Rhen, the heir to Emberfall. Cursed by a powerful enchantress to repeat the autumn of his eighteenth year over and over, he knew he could be saved if a girl fell for him. But that was before he learned that at the end of each autumn, he would turn into a vicious beast hell-bent on destruction. That was before he destroyed his castle, his family, and every last shred of hope.

Nothing has ever been easy for Harper. With her father long gone, her mother dying, and her brother barely holding their family together while constantly underestimating her because of her cerebral palsy, she learned to be tough enough to survive. But when she tries to save someone else on the streets of Washington, DC, she's instead somehow sucked into Rhen's cursed world.

Break the curse, save the kingdom. A prince? A monster? A curse? Harper doesn't know where she is or what to believe. But as she spends time with Rhen in this enchanted land, she begins to understand what's at stake. And as Rhen realizes Harper is not just another girl to charm, his hope comes flooding back. But powerful forces are standing against Emberfall . . . and it will take more than a broken curse to save Harper, Rhen, and his people from utter ruin.

— Beauty and the Beast AU!!! Fantasy! Magic! Romance! I loved this, even when Rhen was being a whiny idiot. But he was also cursed, so like—fair. This dives into the politics of a cursed kingdom, puts a fun spin on the original fairy tale and also has a sequel. Which I read, and possibly enjoyed more. Only to realize the third book isn’t published yet, and then got annoyed by that.

QUESTIONABLY-GOOD FREE FANTASY BOOKS ON AMAZON

The Silver and Orchids Collection by Shari L Tapscott

What happens when a feisty adventuress, a lord looking to make his own way in the world, and a handsome sea captain set out to find Kalae’s rarest and most valuable flower?

Trouble—and lots of it.

— Snarky flirting! Adventure! Sword fights! Listen, this is not prize-winning fiction, but Lucia is a fun heroine, the rest of her adventure-seeking friends are an absolute delight and you don’t have to think too much while reading it. All four books wrap up their individual storylines, but help set up the next one and while the ending felt a little forced (and way too quick) I didn’t hate it enough to throw the Kindle across the room.

Forest of Firelight by Shari L. Tapscsott

After the sudden death of her brother, Princess Amalia is charged with what feels like an impossible task—she must choose the next king. Youthful thoughts of love are pushed aside as she accepts her fate, setting upon a quest throughout the kingdom to find a man worthy of her father’s throne.

Little does Amalia know, someone has already set his sights on her.

Rhys is a man of secrets, and his mission is simple: befriend the princess of Renove. Coax her to trust him, convince her to follow him.

Betray her when it’s time.

All goes according to plan until Rhys meets the princess. Amalia is a disaster. Never has he met someone so drawn to trouble. Never has he met someone so irritatingly likable.

He’s not allowed to fall for her.

She could never entrust him with a crown.

But, unbeknownst to them, their unlikely partnership might be the key to saving their entire world from a darkness that’s slowly creeping from the wounded earth that separates one kingdom from the next.

— FORBIDDEN LOVE! It’s good! Real good! I read this whole series (or the three books in it, so far) in a questionably short amount of time. Again, not the deepest story, and Amalia is occasionally frustratingly dumb. While Rhys is also sort of all-knowing in that fantasy hero sort of way? Y’know what I mean? Still, they banter very well, and eventually kiss even better.

LESS GOOD FANTASY BOOKS THAT PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE JUST BEEN AVAILABLE FOR FREE ON AMAZON

Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian

Theodosia was six when her country was invaded and her mother, the Fire Queen, was murdered before her eyes. On that day, the Kaiser took Theodosia's family, her land, and her name. Theo was crowned Ash Princess—a title of shame to bear in her new life as a prisoner.

For ten years Theo has been a captive in her own palace. She's endured the relentless abuse and ridicule of the Kaiser and his court. She is powerless, surviving in her new world only by burying the girl she was deep inside.

Then, one night, the Kaiser forces her to do the unthinkable. With blood on her hands and all hope of reclaiming her throne lost, she realizes that surviving is no longer enough. But she does have a weapon: her mind is sharper than any sword. And power isn't always won on the battlefield.

For ten years, the Ash Princess has seen her land pillaged and her people enslaved. That all ends here.

— I wanted to love this series. So much so that I read the whole thing. All three books. And I’m still not sure why. The world building, maybe. Which was very good, and the politics actually kept me interested, but every single character was the absolute worst and I kind of wanted them all to die. That’s not even an exaggeration. Spoiler, they didn’t all die. I was only marginally disappointed.

Daughter of the Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

When the ruthless Pirate King learns of a legendary treasure map hidden on an enemy ship, his daughter, Alosa, knows that there's only one pirate for the job—herself. Leaving behind her beloved ship and crew, Alosa deliberately facilitates her own kidnapping to ensure her passage on the enemy ship. After all, who's going to suspect a seventeen-year-old girl locked in a cell?Then she meets the (surprisingly perceptive and unfairly attractive) first mate, Riden, who is charged with finding out all her secrets. Now it's down to a battle of wits and will... Can Alosa find the map and escape before Riden figures out her plan?

— Alosa was kind of the worst? Like, STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER who had to keep reminding you how strong she was because she would kill anyone, and had an all female pirate crew. And the whole time I was just like, ok...cool. Still, I read the sequel too and that was slightly better.

The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Alessandra is tired of being overlooked, but she has a plan to gain power:

1) Woo the Shadow King.

2) Marry him.

3) Kill him and take his kingdom for herself.

No one knows the extent of the freshly crowned Shadow King's power. Some say he can command the shadows that swirl around him to do his bidding. Others say they speak to him, whispering the thoughts of his enemies. Regardless, Alessandra knows what she deserves, and she's going to do everything within her power to get it.

But Alessandra's not the only one trying to kill the king. As attempts on his life are made, she finds herself trying to keep him alive long enough for him to make her his queen—all while struggling not to lose her heart. After all, who better for a Shadow King than a cunning, villainous queen?

— I cannot explain this book any way except to tell you it is so weird. Like, sometimes I remember I read this and all I can think is: why did this book happen? It felt like it started in the middle of the story, which is not a knock on the story itself, but mostly on the world building. Which was lacking to say the least. Also the resolution was super rushed and even more weird and I was like—why does he like her??? I still don’t know, honestly.

The Stars We Steal by Alexa Donne

Engagement season is in the air. Eighteen-year-old Princess Leonie "Leo" Kolburg, heir to a faded European spaceship, has only one thing on her mind: which lucky bachelor can save her family from financial ruin?

But when Leo's childhood friend and first love, Elliot, returns as the captain of a successful whiskey ship, everything changes. Elliot was the one who got away, the boy Leo's family deemed to be unsuitable for marriage. Now he's the biggest catch of the season and he seems determined to make Leo's life miserable. But old habits die hard, and as Leo navigates the glittering balls of the Valg Season, she finds herself falling for her first love in a game of love, lies, and past regrets.

— Another book whose lack of world building hurt it. Stuff just happened, and we were expected to understand it and be into it and I was neither. I had no reason to care about anyone in this book, especially Elliot who seemed like an asshole.

To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

Princess Lira is siren royalty and the most lethal of them all. With the hearts of seventeen princes in her collection, she is revered across the sea. Until a twist of fate forces her to kill one of her own. To punish her daughter, the Sea Queen transforms Lira into the one thing they loathe most—a human. Robbed of her song, Lira has until the winter solstice to deliver Prince Elian's heart to the Sea Queen and or remain a human forever.The ocean is the only place Prince Elian calls home, even though he is heir to the most powerful kingdom in the world. Hunting sirens is more than an unsavory hobby—it's his calling. When he rescues a drowning woman in the ocean, she's more than what she appears. She promises to help him find the key to destroying all of sirenkind for good—But can he trust her? And just how many deals will Elian have to barter to eliminate mankind's greatest enemy?

— This book did not go the way I thought it was going to. Not a bad thing, but also not the best and the ending was...bleh. The middle, though? That was legit, and the action was good. I am always a fan of sword fights. Still, there was something that left me waiting for the final push towards great and it just never really came.

ROM-COMS WITH ONLY PASSABLY FRUSTRATING PLOTS AND GOOD KISSING

Party of Two by Jasmine Guillory

Dating is the last thing on Olivia Monroe's mind when she moves to LA to start her own law firm. But when she meets a gorgeous man at a hotel bar and they spend the entire night flirting, she discovers too late that he is none other than hotshot junior senator Max Powell. Olivia has zero interest in dating a politician, but when a cake arrives at her office with the cutest message, she can't resist—it is chocolate cake, after all.

Olivia is surprised to find that Max is sweet, funny, and noble—not just some privileged white politician, as she assumed him to be. Because of Max's high-profile job, they start seeing each other secretly, which leads to clandestine dates and silly disguises. But when they finally go public, the intense media scrutiny means people are now digging up her rocky past and criticizing her job, even her suitability as a trophy girlfriend. Olivia knows what she has with Max is something special, but is it strong enough to survive the heat of the spotlight?

— It was cute. Max was occasionally an idiot. The kissing was legit. Most of their problems could have very easily been solved, but that’s kind of this genre’s schtick.

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa

A wedding planner left at the altar? Yeah, the irony isn't lost on Carolina Santos, either. But despite that embarrassing blip from her past, Lina's offered an opportunity that could change her life. There's just one hitch... she has to collaborate with the best (make that worst) man from her own failed nuptials. Marketing expert Max Hartley is determined to make his mark with a coveted hotel client looking to expand its brand. Then he learns he'll be working with his brother's whip-smart, stunning—absolutely off-limits—ex-fiancée. And she loathes him.If they can nail their presentation without killing each other, they'll both come out ahead. Except Max has been public enemy number one ever since he encouraged his brother to jilt the bride, and Lina's ready to dish out a little payback of her own.Soon Lina and Max discover animosity may not be the only emotion creating sparks between them. Still, this star-crossed couple can never be more than temporary playmates because Lina isn't interested in falling in love and Max refuses to play runner-up to his brother ever again...

— Once you got past the hooking up with your ex’s brother thing, it was cute. Max was endearing in an earnest sort of way, even when Lina was STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER in a cliche sort of way. More solid kissing. Side note, why are so many rom com dudes named Max? Does it sound hip? Passably cool, but also approachable? Discuss. 

Not that Kind of Guy by Andie J. Christopher

State attorney Bridget Nolan is successful in all aspects of her life—except romance. After breaking up with her longtime boyfriend, she's been slow to reenter the dating scene. To be honest, she has more important things to do like putting bad guys behind bars. But with her brother's wedding right around the corner, she suddenly needs a date and fast. Lucky for Bridget, the legal intern is almost done with his program.

Matt Kido is dumbstruck by Bridget—total love at first sight—but there's one problem. She's totally off-limits while she's his boss. But the moment he no longer reports to her, Matt asks her on a date. An impulsive decision takes them to Las Vegas where, as the saying goes, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Unless you put a ring on it.

— Having written the “wake up in Vegas married” trope before, I know it’s difficult to do right. Consent’s a thing, y’know? And stuff gets dicy with forgotten memories, and all that, but mostly what kept me from truly loving this book was the intern thing. Don’t date your interns guys, it’s weird and off-putting. Literally if he’d just been a junior partner, or a visiting partner or something else I would have been all in.

Meet Cute by Helena Hunting

Kailyn Flowers was always calm, rational, and controlled—until she ended up sprawled all over Daxton Hughes, the former actor she totally crushed on as a teenager. Then she did the unthinkable: She became a mortifying fangirl in five seconds flat, which may or may not have included professing her undying love. And oddly, he didn't run away. In fact, their meet cute led to a friendship she never saw coming. Of course, she never saw his betrayal coming, either...Now Dax needs her help. As guardian to his thirteen-year-old sister, he's in way over his head. And though Kailyn hasn't forgiven Dax, she isn't heartless enough to make him fend for himself, either. Soon their friendly meetings turn into flirty dinner dates, and Kailyn can feel their chemistry is as explosive as ever. But how can she possibly let down her guard again to a guy who has heartbreak written all over him?

— Once again here for the one that got away trope, even if this comes with dead parents and some sad storylines. It still managed to be cute. Everyone was cute in it. Occasionally Daxton was a dick. As rom com male leads are apt to be.

If I Never Met You by Mhairi McFarlane

If faking love is this easy... how do you know when it's real?When her partner of over a decade suddenly ends things, Laurie is left reeling—not only because they work at the same law firm and she has to see him every day. Her once perfect life is in shambles and the thought of dating again in the age of Tinder is nothing short of horrifying. When news of her ex's pregnant girlfriend hits the office grapevine, taking the humiliation lying down is not an option. Then a chance encounter in a broken-down elevator with the office playboy opens up a new possibility.Jamie Carter doesn't believe in love, but he needs a respectable, steady girlfriend to impress their bosses. Laurie wants a hot new man to give the rumor mill something else to talk about. It's the perfect proposition: a fauxmance played out on social media, with strategically staged photographs and a specific end date in mind. With the plan hatched, Laurie and Jamie begin to flaunt their new couple status, to the astonishment—and jealousy—of their friends and colleagues. But there's a fine line between pretending to be in love and actually falling for your charming, handsome fake boyfriend...

— FAKE DATING THAT LEADS TO REAL FEELINGS. The ex-boyfriend was an assssss, the fake boyfriend was charming, everything was good AND THEN WE GOT TO THE END. Which felt more than a little rushed, unexpected and not really in line with the rest of the book?? Give ‘em a slightly better, in-character ending, and I would have been sold.

BOOKS THAT I WAS LIKE...EH, OK

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.

But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.

— I think this book was too smart for me. The prose was gorgeous, and the whole thing was very pretty and I definitely swooned when Marco said he wished for Celia. And yet. By the end I was like...eh, ok. Maybe it was the timeline? Jumping around, or how little dialogue there was. I wanted to like it all so badly, and I’m just not sure I did.

Acting on Impulse by Mia Sosa

After a very public breakup with a media-hungry politician, fitness trainer Tori Alvarez escapes to Aruba for rest, relaxation, and copious amounts of sex on the beach—the cocktail, that is. She vows to keep her vacation a man-free zone but when a cute guy is seated next to her on the plane, Tori can't resist a little harmless flirting.Hollywood heartthrob Carter Stone underwent a dramatic physical transformation for his latest role and it's clear his stunning seat mate doesn't recognize the man beneath the shaggy beard and extra lean frame. Now Carter needs help rebuilding his buff physique and Tori is perfect for the job. It doesn't hurt that she makes his pulse pound in more ways than one.Sparks are flying, until a pesky paparazzo reveals Carter's identity. Tori is hurt and pissed. She wants nothing to do with another man in the limelight, but she's still got to whip him into shape. Can Carter convince Tori he's worth the threat to her privacy that comes with dating a famous actor, or will Tori chisel him down to nothing before he even gets the chance?

— Dudes have gotta stop lying about who they are. It’s not a great trope. Other than that, the kissing was good. The romance was like...eh. I honestly don’t remember much else.

Twice in a Blue Moon by Christina Lauren

During a whirlwind two-week vacation abroad, Sam and Tate fell for each other in only the way that first loves do: sharing all of their hopes, dreams, and deepest secrets along the way. Sam was the first, and only, person that Tate—the long-lost daughter of one of the world's biggest film stars—ever revealed her identity to. So when it became clear her trust was misplaced, her world shattered for good.

Fourteen years later, Tate, now an up-and-coming actress, only thinks about her first love every once in a blue moon. When she steps onto the set of her first big break, he's the last person she expects to see. Yet here Sam is, the same charming, confident man she knew, but even more alluring than she remembered. Forced to confront the man who betrayed her, Tate must ask herself if it's possible to do the wrong thing for the right reason... and whether "once in a lifetime" can come around twice.

— This book was...weird. The early romance was wonderful and delightful, but then shit hit the fan and Sam and Tate are adults and...weird. Like, I cannot come up with another word for it. Also, they didn’t really talk much? As adults? Working on the same movie set? W e i r d.

I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella

Fixie Farr has always lived by her father’s motto: “Family first.” And since her dad passed away, leaving his charming housewares store in the hands of his wife and children, Fixie spends all her time picking up the slack from her siblings instead of striking out on her own. The way Fixie sees it, if she doesn’t take care of her father’s legacy, who will?

It’s simply not in Fixie’s nature to say no to people. So when a handsome stranger in a coffee shop asks her to watch his laptop for a moment, she not only agrees—she ends up saving it from certain disaster. To thank Fixie for her quick thinking, the computer’s owner, Sebastian, an investment manager, scribbles an IOU on a coffee sleeve and attaches his business card. Fixie laughs it off—she’d never actually claim an IOU from a stranger. Would she?

But then Fixie’s childhood crush, Ryan, comes back into her life, and his lack of a profession pushes all of Fixie’s buttons. As always, she wants nothing for herself—but she’d love Seb to give Ryan a job. No sooner has Seb agreed than the tables are turned once more and a new series of IOUs between Seb and Fixie—from small favors to life-changing moments—ensues. Soon Fixie, Ms. Fixit for everyone else, is torn between her family and the life she really wants. Does she have the courage to take a stand? Will she finally grab the life, and love, she really wants?

— Let’s be upfront, I’ve read a lot of Sophie Kinsella in my life, and more often than not I enjoy what she writes. I mostly did here. It was a book. With obvious rom com problems, that could have very easily been solved, but it wasn’t horrible. So, that was good, I guess.

The Wedding Party by Jasmine Guillory

Maddie and Theo have two things in common:

1. Alexa is their best friend

2. They hate each other

After an "oops, we made a mistake" night together, neither one can stop thinking about the other. With Alexa's wedding rapidly approaching, Maddie and Theo both share bridal party responsibilities that require more interaction with each other than they're comfortable with. Underneath the sharp barbs they toss at each other is a simmering attraction that won't fade. It builds until they find themselves sneaking off together to release some tension when Alexa isn't looking, agreeing they would end it once the wedding is over. When it's suddenly pushed up and they only have a few months left of secret rendezvouses, they find themselves regretting that the end is near. Two people this different can't possibly have a connection other than the purely physical, right?

But as with any engagement with a nemesis, there are unspoken rules that must be abided by. First and foremost, don't fall in love.

— Eh, this book happened. I still have no idea why they couldn’t be together from the get. Obstacles for the sake of plot, I guess. Also political side stories? I don’t know, guys.

WEIRD POST-ENDING FEELINGS WERE INDUCED

Beach Read by Emily Henry

Augustus Everett is an acclaimed author of literary fiction. January Andrews writes bestselling romance. When she pens a happily ever after, he kills off his entire cast.

They're polar opposites.

In fact, the only thing they have in common is that for the next three months, they're living in neighboring beach houses, broke, and bogged down with writer's block.

Until, one hazy evening, one thing leads to another and they strike a deal designed to force them out of their creative ruts: Augustus will spend the summer writing something happy, and January will pen the next Great American Novel. She'll take him on field trips worthy of any rom-com montage, and he'll take her to interview surviving members of a backwoods death cult (obviously). Everyone will finish a book and no one will fall in love. Really.

— Listen, I enjoyed this a lot. For the most part. It was funny, and introspective in a way that didn’t make me want to gag too much, and I wanted to defend January’s love of love with everything in me. But, then it—ended. And it was like...all tied up with this nice little ribbon and happily ever after, and I was like...oh, ok. Part of me that it was glad it ended like that, mostly because of who I am as a person, but the rest of me was also confused that after everything January and Augustus had been through and how messy their lives were it could just get all wrapped up in this HEA.

HITTING JUST A BIT TOO CLOSE TO HOME

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade

Marcus Caster-Rupp has a secret. The world may know him as Aeneas, star of the biggest show on television, but fanfiction readers call him something else: Book!AeneasWouldNever. Marcus gets out his frustrations with the show through anonymous stories about the internet's favorite couple, Aeneas and Lavinia. But if anyone discovered his online persona, he'd be finished in Hollywood.April Whittier has secrets of her own. A hardcore Lavinia fan, she's long hidden her fanfic and cosplay hobbies from her "real life"—but not anymore. When she dares to post her latest costume creation on Twitter, her plus-size take goes viral. And when Marcus asks her out to spite her internet critics, truth officially becomes stranger than fanfiction. On their date, Marcus quickly realizes he wants more from April than a one-time publicity stunt. But when he discovers she's Unapologetic Lavinia Stan, his closest fandom friend, he has one more huge secret to keep from her.With love and Marcus's career on the line, can the two of them stop hiding once and for all, or will a match made in fandom end up prematurely cancelled?

— Here for plus-size heroines who get the guy and don’t have their (entire) storyline defined by their looks. Less here for the weird fandom culture, the ensuing second-hand embarrassment that came from that and the thankfulness that both Colin O’Donoghue and Bob Morley appear to be happily married so it seems very unlikely they’re writing fic about their characters under pseudonyms. Stop using Ao3 in actual published stories 2k4ever.

RAGE-INDUCING BOOKS OF ABSOLUTE FURY

The Friend Zone by Abby Jimenez

Kristen Peterson doesn't do drama, will fight to the death for her friends, and has no room in her life for guys who just don't get her. She's also keeping a big secret: facing a medically necessary procedure that will make it impossible for her to have children.Planning her best friend's wedding is bittersweet for Kristen — especially when she meets the best man, Josh Copeland. He's funny, sexy, never offended by her mile-wide streak of sarcasm, and always one chicken enchilada ahead of her hangry. Even her dog, Stuntman Mike, adores him. The only catch: Josh wants a big family someday. Kristen knows he'd be better off with someone else, but as their attraction grows, it's harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.The Friend Zone will have you laughing one moment and grabbing for tissues the next as it tackles the realities of infertility and loss with wit, heart, and a lot of sass.

— LISTEN THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE, BUT I FEEL LIKE YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEM BECAUSE THIS BOOK IS A SECRET GUT PUNCH AND PEOPLE SHOULD BE AWARE. Not only is infertility, like, the defining theme of this book, but the BEST FRIEND DIES. Just—dies. It’s horrible. Absolutely God awful depressing. And for a second he looks like he won’t, and it’ll be fine, but then it is not and he’s just D E A D. I know, I know that sets up the sequel, but this was so goddamn heavy in an unsuspecting way that I have absolutely no intention of reading the next one.

Well Met by Jen DeLuca

Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him?

The faire is Simon's family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn't have time for Emily's lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she's in her revealing wench's costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they're portraying?

This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can't seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.

— FUCK THIS BOOK. And fuck Simon, specifically. Oh, you have a sad story? Cool, you’re still a dick. He was a dick. Listen, I know enemies to lovers is a hard trope to write, but it’s even harder to accept when those enemies just announce I LIKED YOU THE WHOLE TIME and then everyone starts ripping off their clothes. No, it’s dumb. I hate it. Apparently there’s a sequel to this book. Maybe that’s better.

Kiss My Cupcake by Helena Hunting

Blaire Calloway has planned every Instagram-worthy moment of her cupcake and cocktails shop launch down to the tiniest detail. What she didn't plan on? Ronan Knight and his old-school sports bar next door opening on the very same day. He may be super swoony, but Blaire hasn't spent years obsessing over buttercream and bourbon to have him ruin her chance at success.From axe throwing (his place) to frosting contests (hers), Blaire and Ronan are constantly trying to one-up each other in a battle to win new customers. But with every clash, there's also an undeniable chemistry. When an even bigger threat to their business comes to town, they're forced to call a temporary time-out on their own war and work together. And the more time Blaire spends getting to know the real Ronan, the more she wonders if it's possible to have her cupcake and eat it too.

— Listen, I wanted to like this one. There were plenty other Helena Hunting books on this list, so like—I don’t hate her. I just hate poorly executed enemies to lovers plot lines. Give me at least one moment where they are interested in each other aside from just being attracted to each other. Also: Stop Having Dudes Be Dicks Because Of Their Sad Backstory 2k4ever.

Don’t You Forget About Me by Mhairi McFarlane

You always remember your first love... don't you?If there's anything worse than being fired from the worst restaurant in town, it's coming home early to find your boyfriend in bed with someone else. Reeling from the humiliation of a double dumping in one day, Georgina takes the next job that comes her way—bartender in a newly opened pub. There's only one problem: it's run by the guy she fell in love with years ago. And—make that two problems—he doesn't remember her. At all. But she has fabulous friends and her signature hot pink fur coat... what more could a girl really need?Lucas McCarthy has not only grown into a broodingly handsome man, but he's also turned into an actual grown-up, with a thriving business and a dog along the way. Crossing paths with him again throws Georgina's rocky present into sharp relief—and brings a secret from her past bubbling to the surface. Only she knows what happened twelve years ago, and why she's allowed the memories to chase her ever since. But maybe it's not too late for the truth... or a second chance with the one that got away?

— HE WAS JUST PRETENDING NOT TO REMEMBER HER THE WHOLE TIME???? WHAT?? WHY??? D U M B. Dumb boys are dumb.

Not the Girl You Marry by Andie J. Christopher

Jack Nolan is a gentleman, a journalist, and unlucky in love. His viral success has pigeon-holed him as the how-to guy for a buzzy, internet media company instead of covering hard-hitting politics. Fed up with his fluffy articles and the app-based dating scene as well, he strikes a deal with his boss to write a final piece de resistance: How to Lose a Girl. Easier said than done when the girl he meets is Hannah Mayfield, and he's not sure he wants her to dump him.

Hannah is an extremely successful event planner who's focused on climbing the career ladder. Her firm is one of the most prestigious in the city, and she's determined to secure her next promotion. But Hannah has a bit of an image problem. She needs to show her boss that she has range, including planning dreaded, romantic weddings. Enter Jack. He's the perfect man to date for a couple weeks to prove to her boss that she's not scared of feelings.

Before Jack and Hannah know it, their fake relationship starts to feel all too real—and neither of them can stand to lose each other.

— This is actually the prequel to Not That Kind of Guy and I honestly can’t believe I read that after hating this book so much. They were awful to each other! Their whole relationship was based on lies! Mean lies! Horrible lies! Don’t lie to your significant other!

[simping-on-the-daily]

I have to yet to fully develop them but boom boom bitches did you think I would stop making Dream SMP OCs? Hell nah

They both be a combination of Tales of the Dream SMP characters and actual Dream SMP characters

They're all canon and they will eventually have their own bios, but this is just a place to hold my notes basically

Toastie

Slime hybrid

They/she

Full name is Toastie Rickroll (based off the last names generally being memes)

I listened to Hamilton while making her so that helps

Fought for L'Manburg during the Independence Arc

Eventually joined Schlatt's cabinet for Manburg, but later resigned and helped join Pogtopia

Also became part of the Butcher Army

Currently apart of no faction

Respects tradition very well

Their family has fought and died for their respective countries for years

And Toastie carried on the tradition

Without something or someone to fight for Toastie kinda feels useless

They're so used to fighting that peace is basically a foreign concept to her

It doesn't help with all the wars

Toastie does what they do best: protect

And with L'Manburg gone, they now have someone (or a few someone's to care for)

Very fond of their old cabinet and her Butcher Army friends

Despises Techno and Dream for destroying L'Manburg on numerous occasions

Phil is very close to also getting on their negative list

Their most precious item is their enchanted Netherite axe, the Mindbreaker

Toastie confirms it's a family heirloom you get when you learn how to hold scissors correctly

It basically has the blood of people who fought against the country Toastie's family decided to fight for and were either killed or tortured with it

Toastie wants to try and guide it and herself on a more peaceful path, but they always end up going to violence

It's kinda engraved in her

Since she trusts Quackity due to experience, they give him their axe daily as long as he brings it back

They're unaware that Quackity's using it to torture Dream

Very protective and dedicated to fighting for those they care about

Tends to learn towards fighting as her first option and runs her mouth a lot

ThEy'Re BoUncY-

They can jump really high

Really likes swamps

If they ever get injured, the injured part can turn into miniature versions of themselves similar to tiny slimes and they'll attack their opponent

Absolutely despies Magma Cubes and will attack them whenever she can get the chance

Whisp

Wolf hybrid

But they're also a ghost!

Their real name is Whisper, and their full name is Quiet Whispers

She/Her

Large grey ears on their head

Long tail that can fade sometimes due to ya know, death

Really fun to chew on bones despite the fact that she doesn't need to eat them and she can't even digest them

She can bond with other people and she can track the people she's bonded with

Can bite really hard, has enhanced speed and strength, and they also have a pretty pogchamp smell and eyesight

Despite the fact that's she pretty powerful, Whisp is a strict pacifist who only hung around L'Manburg due to having numerous friends there

Somehow the only ghost to have a decent fucking memory of her life

Remembers good and bad, though she sometimes wishes she doesn't

Red sweaters boiiisssss

Very forgiving and kind

But a really giant people pleaser and self-sacrificial

Her self worth is based on what people think of her

Tries her best to get on everyone's good side

It breaks her if someone dislikes her

Grew up in a really shitty household where Whisp was basically ignored

So she grew up trying to gain the affection that her family never gave her

Really fucking touch-starved

Just pretty bad self esteem, even when she's dead

Please just tell her that she means something outside of other people's opinions and that she's an amazing human being

Absolutely adores animals!

Has numerous pet cafes

Like, so many gosh dang cafes

There's one for cats, one for dogs, and then there's a giant miscellaneous one

They're all part of the same building and that's also another part of it which is basically her house

BFFs with Ghostbur

Please protect her and tell her that she's amazing she really needs it

Sunny

Full name is Sunny Wholesun

Last name is a pun off 'wholesome' and 'sun'

Very proud of it

She's an angel boissss

She/her

Very simliar to Bad in terms of personality

They're both very sweet and will help anyone

Isn't a part of any countries

She just pops in when she wants to,,,,,

Conflict freaks her out

Optimsitc pal that just chooses to look on the bright side of things,,,,

However-

She wants to desperately try and be her own person outside of 'Bad but angelic' but she keeps getting compared to him

She feels like she keeps being in people's shadows despite being a literal creature of purity and light

Feels like a side character honestly

Good friends with Phil, but disapproves of his title, most notably due to it having death in it

Said to know Dream XD and the other gods of the server

Absolutely understand very dirty stuff, but chooses to ignore it

Also can understand war and sadness

Sunny just kinds chooses to keep holding her head up high

In her own words "If you always keep thinking of sad things, you'll always be sad"

And now the TOTDS ones

Lady Venus

From the Masquerade timeline

Ghast hybrid royalty

Berothed to Sir Billiam the III since birth

Very much married and in love

She's pretty kind for a royal

Or at the very least more nicer

Treats her servants well and gives them pay as well as vacation days

However, she lacks empathy and is somewhat insensitive

Doesn't understand that some people don't have the same social privilege's as her

So she can piss some people off

Her main butler was Ryan and he was basically her best friend outside of Billiam and Ranbutler

However, Ryan got angry and ended up assassinating her

Spear in the chest

Felt incredibly betrayed since Ryan was one of her few friends and died feeling fear and shock

Billiam ended up executing Ryan

With the death of his lover, Billiam aligned with the Egg due it promising to bring Venus back if he swore alliance to it

She remains a ghost, but neither Ranbutler, Billiam or anyone else can't see her

Venus absolutely despises the Egg for corrupting her family, but at the same time, truly believes it can bring her back to life, so she needs it

Her spear ridden body is in the same room as the Egg, therefore corrupting her body, and therefore her ghost, which is connected to it

Whenever Billiam or Ranbutler go down there, it ended up motivating the two further in order to bring Venus back

She clings to the hope that when the Egg brings her back to life, she can reunite with her husband and adoptive son once more and forget the Egg

She know it won't happen but hope is kinda the only thing she has

At the Masquerade, she was only able to be seen and talk to Karl due to him being from another time

Truly felt bad about his death, but didn't stop it since she wanted to live again

Without her being able to produce a heir, the Ghast royal family basically went in shambles and they all eventually died, making the Ghasts a free place with no government or hierarchy

I really love Venus as she's a very fun character to do and also very sad

Supports Ranbutler rights

Meanings

From the Village That Went Mad

Morals' ancestor

My friend compared her to that Chris girl from Carrie and I love it

She's a complete and utter asshole

Like, a full on fucking dick

Horrible person to be around

She's a villager, but absolutely everyone wanted her dead due to being a full on bitch

Jimmy theorizes that this is because of her mother also being the Enderdragon and either feeling like she's on top of everyone because of it, or that she feels inferior because Meanings isn't her mum so she acts like a dick to cover it up

It's either one of those two options

Just a full on fucking dick

I also love playing her because she's a really fun character

Horrible person, yes

But absolutely hilarious to play as

Maggie/Michael

From the Lost City of Mizu

I don't consider Mizu to be the official future, but rather an alternate reality, so bear with me in mind for that

I feel really smart with her name

It means Pearl, and you know

Mizu being an underwater city and all that?

Michael means 'who is like God', which refers to her best friend's......love for a past figure

They're genderfluid! Mostly goes by she/her, though on some days, they go with he/him

Her relationship with Ranbob is very similar to the one between Morals' and Dream

Since I don't see the story as a possible canon future but instead another alternate reality, she's not a descendant of anyone

And you know what? You wanna know what?

She's a cow hybrid now

Why? Because I said so

Remove Ranbob's very yandere personality and their friendship is friendship goals

Heck, even with it, it's still friendship goals

I will defo have more but those are the only Tales of the Dream SMP episodes I've watched, so-

[cryptidcalling]

Heyo! Here’s that post I promised about some of Sean’s friends! Not all of them are going to be super fleshed out, because not all of them are super significant to Sean specifically, but they deserve some attention too. I also haven’t really given them last names.

Ian: He’s been hybridized with the DNA if a Lyre Bird, allowing him to mimic any sound he hears perfectly. This includes human voices. He also has feathers covering much of his arms and back, but he’s unfortunately not able to fly. He’s eccentric and charismatic, and also very intelligent! He’s the teams main leader and info-gatherer, and cares the most deeply about their mission. He’s great at finding information and hacking, but he’s also just generally book smart and good at math. However, he can be a bit emotionally tone deaf and doesn’t always properly read the room before acting. His loudness and general goofy attitude can be unwelcome at times when the situation is dire, and he can make people feel like he isn’t taking them seriously. He’s genuinely a caring friend though, and his life’s goal truly is to save every victim of GenMile’s experiments. He often refers to Sean and “Lou”, shortened from his last name of Loufin. Despite how different they are, Ian and Sean get along incredibly well. Sean is unendingly grateful for Ian and everything he’s done for him and the other hybrids and victims, and he understands better than most just how much saving people means to Ian.  Raquel “Roxy”: She’s been hybridized with the DNA of a Hyena, which gives her a naturally strong build, a good sense of smell, thick callouses on certain parts of her hands and feet, an immunity to mild toxins, and sharp teeth. She’s outgoing, and enjoys standing out in a crowd. She dresses like a full on biker woman, complete with Mohawk and a patch covered jean vest. She’s what some might call a Mama Bear, and is very protective of her friends. She and Sean bond fairly quickly because of how unsure and reserved he tends to be in unfamiliar situations. He’s not shy per-se, but he often will worry himself into a frenzy when he’s in an unfamiliar situation and nobody is around to help keep him grounded. She serves as his rock when Ian is a bit too loud and chipper for Sean to feel reassured. Despite her somewhat intimidating appearance, she’s an absolute mom friend, makes the best soup, and gives amazing hugs. She and Sean’s friendship eventually buds into a romantic relationship! (They’re both bi, in case anyone was wondering). Eri: Eri is a little girl, about 5 at the time of rescue and then she floats around the future/Australia time at 6. She’s an unauthorized revival of the hybrid project, started in secret by her own parents who both work for GenMile. They had her for the specific purpose of creating a new hybrid, believing that if she was their own blood she wouldn’t possibly turn against them. Her DNA has been mixed with that of a Vampire Bat, which gives her large pointed ears, small wings, sharp fans, and a unique type of venom that numbs pain and prevents blood from clotting, allowing her to drink as much blood as she can. She also has 4 sharp fangs and a pointed tongue with a deep grove in the center for consuming blood. Eri doesn’t need blood to live, just like Sean doesn’t need to eat sugar despite being partially Kinkajou and Roxy can eat things other than meat. However, cravings are natural, especially in younger children. When she was very little, between 1-3, Eri would bite her “parents” (Who I will henceforth call the Scientists, just know only the two of them knew about her) on many occasions to try and feed herself. Her cravings are especially dangerous, because her venom works nearly instantly. Besides a slight prick, someone she bites might feel no pain at all. This is dangerous for them and Eri, because given the opportunity she could potentially gorge herself to the point of feeling sick while the other person experiences severe blood loss. Instead of trying to help Eri manage the cravings that they forced upon her, the Scientists would instead punish her and lock her into her small isolated bedroom for long periods of time. She became convinced at such a young age that she was inherently bad and dangerous, and loving her was a gift she didn’t deserve and was only being “given” because the scientists are such great people. The more she grew the more she learned how to avoid acting on her cravings, but she wasn’t learning to manage them. Instead, the pent up feelings result in violent and destructive outbursts. When she gets rescued by the team, they’re all deeply shocked and terrified to see a new hybrid, and immediately take her in despite her denial. She tried many times to convince them all that she was a bad child, an evil terrible child that would only hurt them and destroy things. Sean feels the strongest immediate connection to her, because even to this day he deals with his own fears and self hatred regarding his venom. After her rescue, Sean takes her in as a caretaker, and he’s helping her heal and manage her cravings and outbursts.  Momo: They’ve had their DNA splice with a Wood Frog and Red-Eyed Tree Frog! They have many unique abilities, like holding their breath for hours at a time, webbed hands and feet, sticky fingers and toes that allow them to climb walls, a long sticky tongue, and the ability to freeze their blood to withstand freezing cold temperatures! Momo is the Free-spirit type who always wants to carve their own path and adventure off the grid. This means they can be stubborn when not getting their way, but also steadfast in their beliefs and highly confident. They’ll also extend this confidence and stubbornness to their teammates when they’re sure an idea of theirs will work.  Thia: Her DNA has been combined with that of a cheetah. As one might expect, her primary ability is speed. Her use within the team is primarily getting as many people out of a facility as quickly as possible! In terms of personality she’s quite traditionally feminine and enjoys watching teen dramas and dressing up with makeup and painted nails. Mainly, this is her way of feeling as though she fits in, and uses it as a form of self expression. She never got to dress up in fun clothes or own things that were overly dramatic and silly when she was little, so she happily indulges now. She knows many of the novels she reads and movies she watches are completely fictional and dramatized, but that’s exactly what she likes about them. She and Roxy get along very well as the two girls on the team despite their opposing aesthetics.  The reason Momo and Thia don’t come with Sean, Ian, Roxy and Eri to Australia is because that is primarily SEAN’S dream and he’s my main character. It’s his desire to leave the country and live in Australia, not the whole team’s. Roxy comes with because by the end she and Sean are dating, Eri comes with because Sean is her new dad, and Ian comes along to establish a new safe base of operations for himself! And also because Sean is a very important friend to him. Just because GenMile has finally been taken down doesn’t mean there’s not more people in need of rescuing, and when you’ve committed as many federal crimes as Ian has Fleeing the country with your best bro and his new family Just Makes Sense. Momo and Thia still leave the country! Momo chooses to go to Europe, and is easily able to live with very little money and travel around, sleeping in hostels and enjoying the natural people and cultures. Thia actually ends up in Spain! She’s able to make a career for herself in the fashion and makeup industries. She can’t be a model unfortunately, but she can work behind the scenes as a wardrobe and makeup artist for movies and photo shoots. 

[echo-bleu]

Oct 19-21 is the Good Intentions WIP fest ( @goodintentionswipfest ), the time to let go of abandoned WIPs and post them as is. Given that I’ve written a lot in the last year and also recently moved fandoms, I thought it was a good time to clean up my WIP folder(s), so I’ll be posting a few things that I started and gave up part way through. This means that each snippet is unfinished and not meant to be a full fic.

RNM, Alex, 1497 words. This was going to be a part of my Lines of Fear and Blame series about Alex & Isobel friendship, titled Drive Until You Lose The Road. [depression, PTSD, mentions of war, death, amputation and explosions, survivor’s guilt]

Perhaps it shouldn't be a surprise that when their lives finally quiet down, it takes Alex so much time to get used to it.

He didn't have to get used to the violence. It crept up on him. His brothers have always played rough, as far as he can remember, rough enough to hurt each other, and he was the smallest. He got kicked and punched and fell a lot. His father's blows were a different kind of pain, but it was still pain. Violence was never strange to Alex.

He didn't have to get used to the war, because he's always been at war. The war outside is more deadly, more awful than the war in his family, but it was never more painful than the war inside him.

He had to get used to the pain, because you forget the pain. You live with the memory of the blows and the broken bones, but you forget the pain, because your brain simply can't handle the prospect of being in that much pain again. So when Alex loses his leg, and he discovers the kind of pain that never leaves, the phantom limb and the constant ache in the stump and his messed up shoulder and his broken neck vertebra, it takes him months to stop hoping, in that short moment just before he wakes up in the morning, that it will go away. It takes him longer to stop raging about it. But when it comes down to it, he adapts easily. He's never had trouble to adapt to the dozens of places he's lived in, even overseas−it's not like he has many friends to miss. He adapts to being back in Roswell and having only one foot and seeing his father seemingly everywhere.

He doesn't really have to adapt to the skin-tight sense of wrongness of his life being turned over again. It's not so much the alien reveal−what does it really matter, if Michael is a telekinetic alien on top of being bisexual? It's the seeing Michael again. Navigating their shipwreck of a relationship. Finding out what his father has done, and is doing, and how it connects again to the depth of Michael's suffering. But Alex has never felt anything that came close to settled, to home, to safe. So it's just another war to fight.

Fighting is his default mode. Constant hypervigilance, of his surrounding and of his own body. The problem with trauma, is that it makes your brain forget to switch off fight mode. So no, it shouldn't come as a surprise that when the dust finally settles down around them, Alex finds himself spiraling down.

He groans at the ache in his head and his leg when he wakes up from his vague slumber and vaguer nightmarish half-dreams for the third time this morning. This time, his phone buzzing is what broke the silence. Sighing, he reaches for the phone and squints at it.

“Hey, Alex,” the video message says. “The last few days have been amazing. We're heading out to the airport soon, we'll be back home by mid afternoon. Text me if you want me to come by, I miss you.”

Alex sighs and lets his head fall back against his pillow. He's glad that he bought Michael a smartphone, if it means that he can see his face like this more often, but today he just misses him. It's ridiculous, honestly. They've been apart for a whole three days. But after a decade of missing each other, it's like he won't breathe until Michael is in his arms again.

He hesitates before texting, then chides himself. I'll be waiting for you, he writes, overriding his fear. Michael loves to leave him random video messages, and Alex only replies through texts. And right now, given how amazing a wind-swept Michael looks in the sun of Houston, he's glad of that. It's ten a.m., but his bedroom is still dark and starting to smell stale, and he lying in bed in his boxers.

He doesn't want Michael to see him like that, but he knows he won't be over this depression spell by tonight. Not with what today is.

No more events today, the calendar on his phone states. Alex couldn't bring himself to put anything in, even Michael's plane back. He declined to make the round trip to Albuquerque with Liz to pick the alien siblings up at the airport, citing his leg's dislike for spending time sitting in a car, but that was only half of the reason.

Michael doesn't know, of course. Isobel threw a party for their shared birthday last Saturday, then swept her brothers away to Houston to the NASA center as a birthday gift, to celebrate Max's resurrection and the twins' new interest at reconnecting with their origins. It's also an occasion to air out their issues without humans breathing down their necks, Michael confided in Alex, and start the process of healing together. Alex is happy that it seems to have gone well.

His own relationship with Michael is slowly growing, since they started rebuilding it from the ground up. Michael spends most of his nights at the cabin now, and they've been going out together more and more, working on Alex's instinctive need to hide. It's been rough, in some ways, but they're settling into a pattern that works for them, and since Max's resurrection and Jesse Manes's death, things have been quiet on the government conspiracy front.

Which leaves Alex here, now, three days into Michael's trip away from Roswell, feeling like he shouldn't be this depressed. For the first time ever, his life is good. He has close friends, his relationship with Michael is the best it's ever been, and the shadow of his father is finally gone.

It's just that being away from Michael is so damn hard. It's just that his pain level have been through the roof for a week.

It's just that today is the anniversary of the day he walked onto a bomb.

Alex buries his face fully in his pillow, his eyes filling with tears again. He didn't want to tell Michael and ruin his family trip. Liz was here yesterday, also feeling a little bereft at Max's absence, but she doesn't know the date anymore than his other friends. His men will call him, probably. They flew in and threw him a party when he was discharged two months ago, even though they're scattered across the country. They'll mourn together for the two brothers who didn't make it back home.

There's a yap, and from the bedroom door, left open since Alex is on his own, comes a running bundle of fur. Alex barely has time to turn and see her before Ksenia jumps up on the bed and sticks her nose under his chin.

“Hey, girl,” he murmurs as she mercilessly tickles him with her fur. She proceeds to lick his face, without paying any heed to his efforts to push her away. Alex fights for a minute before he gives in, leaving her free reign over his body.

Ksenia just settles down, half on the bed and half on his chest, with her head resting against his. Her warm presence is comforting, as Alex's ticklish giggles turn into sobs.

“I miss them, Ksenia,” he hiccups. “I don't…I probably wouldn't even be talking to Karl if he was alive, because he was an asshole, but I still fucking miss them.”

Ksenia just gives him another lick. Alex feels like he's choking from the pain inside his chest, like he can't take another breath. It's not even a panic attack, he can recognize those from a mile away, just plain old grief. He weeps for what feels like hours−actually minutes, but he comes out the other side feeling dried out and exhausted, tears and snot mixing with Ksenia's saliva on his face. He feels disgusting, yet he can't quite bring himself to get up and go shower.

What's the point, when Dawson and Karl will never get up again? Sometimes Alex can't even understand how he's still living, still handling the day to day things, everything so inconsequential and unimportant.

Not when it fucking hurts so much, that he came back and they didn't. That he came back and doesn't understand why, doesn't understand how.

Suddenly he feels trapped lying down, the weight too heavy on his chest. He sits up with a start, disturbing the poor Ksenia who yelps and jumps off the bed. Alex wants to apologize, but words are beyond him right now. He wheezes, throwing back his duvet until he can see his stump, and not the metal beam that crushed his leg and trapped him inside the crumbling building.

Ksenia must not be too angry at him because she doesn't give up and tries again, this time wrapping herself into his lap. Alex breathes out and hugs her tightly. “I'm sorry Ksenia,” he rasps out.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Monarchy 7

Previously on Monarchy

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

“It’s not a problem at all.” 

Clarke smiled and stood as the queen breezed into the office. Even in a hurry, she was dignified, unruffled by the constraints of time. She did breeze. That was the best way to describe her, a gust of wind guiding her gracefully through the room. There was still a little bit of nerves to meeting with the queen. She was naturally powerful, without even the title. 

But this was a business meeting, or at least as close to a business meeting as something of this nature could be, Clarke decided. That was why she asked for it. 

“How was the trip in? Not too bad, I hope. I saw that you were photographed a few nights ago,” she offered as she took a seat in the chair across from Clarke, folding her folio in her lap and under her hands. 

With the slightest movement, a maid nodded and left the room, leaving them alone. 

“It wasn’t bad at all. Thank you for taking the time to see me--”

“Not at all. I was surprised,” Viv smiled and looked over the doctor sitting across from her for a moment, “But I suspect I shouldn’t have been with you.” 

Unsure of how to take it and oddly stifled under the withering gaze, Clarke swallowed roughly and adjusted slightly. 

“While it is lovely to see you, Clarke, I suspect you aren’t here to see how Lexa’s trip is going.” 

“Lexa said you were the one who keeps the ship afloat and keeps the trains running on time.”

“I find it more akin to wrangling cats,” the queen wagered as she thought it over. 

Clarke considered how much she looked like Lexa, or rather how Lexa looked like her. How they looked off to the side when they were feeling mischievous, how clever they got when they got a compliment, how important it was that they maintained a fairly sturdy, steady wall against anyone seeing them too plainly. 

It wasn’t a fluke that Lexa raved about how precise her mother was, how smart and quick and fierce she was, and it certainly wasn’t a fluke that Lexa grew up to be all of those things as well. Sitting across from her now, alone, without a reassuring hand on her thigh or back, Clarke wavered before straightening and taking a deep breath. 

“Lexa has tried to protect me,” Clarke began. “Rightfully so. It’s an adjustment and I think I played into that weakness a little while I debated. Dipped my toes, so to speak.” 

“Anyone would be smart to take their time when this commitment presented itself. Thank you,” the queen nodded as the maid brought in a tray of tea and cookies. “Tea?” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’d be a fool not to need time to weigh the enormity of this undertaking. You have absolutely no training, nor have you had a lifetime to prepare,” Viv explained. “I’m not quite sure you’ve fully considered it now, to be completely honest.” 

“I have.” 

“You haven’t, because even I haven’t fully figured it out,” she explained as she put her cup down on the saucer. 

Clarke sat up slightly, her spine straightening as she felt a burn in her collar. 

“Lexa has tried to protect me,” she began again. “But that’s not fair of me to expect. And it certainly isn’t going to help us. I’m not just dipping my toes. Tell me what I have to do to be good at this for her. She deserves a partner, not someone she has to fret over constantly.” 

The queen smiled and looked at the doctor sitting across from her. She leaned back in her chair, adjusting her legs and folding her hands once again. She took her time, looking over Clarke and debating, wondering if she could figure it all out while they sat there. It was true that she thought about this eventuality, of her daughter bringing someone home, someone who was not prepared-- it was the only math that made sense, since she highly doubted another royal would come out. And as much as she played it out in her head, the queen could not see the endgame, but rather followed a million threads to a million ends. 

But Clarke Griffin made an appointment while Lexa was out of town with the sole purpose of figuring it out, and that was a thread the queen hadn’t followed. 

“This isn’t a movie,” Viv began. “There isn’t a magic montage I can provide you with that will answer all of your questions, or a make over that will make this easy.” 

“That’d be nice though, wouldn’t it?” 

“Does Lexa know you’re here?” 

“No. She’d be mortified, I think.” 

“You have--”

“I was going to tell her when she got back. But I didn’t want her to try to talk me out of it,” Clarke explained emphatically as she shook her head. “She would just worry and promise me things that even I know she can’t deliver, and I didn’t want that.” 

“Why do you want to do this, Clarke?” 

The question was one that Clarke debated herself a few hundred times, as she herself followed many threads of her potential futures. She’d hoped to have formed a more concise or relevant answer with all of the brainpower assigned to the task, but still struggled nonetheless. 

“Because I am in love with your daughter.” 

“It hasn’t been that long.” 

“She risked everything for me. What kind of person would I be if I wasn’t willing to do the same?” 

“A sane one.” 

Clarke smiled slightly and debated the response before agreeing. 

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” the doctor promised. “I don’t care what it is. I’ve seen enough destruction in my life to know when something good is happening. As much as I can’t believe that Lexa is real, I just can’t do this without giving my all.” 

The queen eyed her again, observing the passion with which she spoke, her words warm with a bit of promise and oath and fear and joy beneath it all, wary of being allowed to exist. 

“Keep Lexa out of the palace when you tell her you spoke with me. She’ll throw a fit.” 

“I can do that.” 

The queen nodded, her eyes changing slightly as she started to go over lists in her head of how to proceed. 

“We’ll get you a history tutor, and etiquette lessons, followed by an assistant--”

“Lexa took etiquette lessons?” 

“She was the best of the kids at them,” the queen boasted. “Her entire lack of rigidity is by choice, not by lack of education. She learned very young that the best way to win was to simply know more than anyone else in the room. How else would she know the tiniest ways to buck procedure?” 

Clarke smiled and nodded as she set down her saucer. 

“Do you think I have a chance?” 

“We’ll see after the background check.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though it was late, and even though the entire world was asleep-- even though she’d flown from a different hemisphere, Lexa needed just one thing. She dropped her bag on the chair and slumped down next to it, prepared to slip off her shoes in favor of something more comfortable and bit more lowkey to traverse the mortal realm of midnight in her city. 

It wasn’t that it was a bad trip. Lexa actually enjoyed travelling, and her it was, as her mother explained, a wonderful distraction from the rest of everything. She got to see friends and enjoy the rigidity of a schedule that was something of a welcomed distraction. It was surprisingly relaxing to be away and to mindlessly sit through meetings and formal engagements. 

But with a sigh, Lexa sat back and unbuttoned a few buttons on her shirt, attempting to rally herself for the commute. 

“What time is it?” 

Lexa jumped slightly and looked toward the bed to find a lump surrounded by a dozen open books. 

“What the hell? They’ll let anyone in here, won’t they?” the princess grinned as she caught her breath, her hand pressed against her chest. “I’ll have to have a word with security.” 

“I’ve got clearances now,” Clarke grinned and flopped back against the pillows. Her girlfriend watched her stretch and get cozy once more. 

“This saves me a trip across town.” 

“You were going to come see me?” 

“It’s been two weeks. I’ve missed my girl.” 

Still half asleep and dreamy, Clarke smiled and shifted, knocking a book to the floor. 

“Come to bed.” 

Lexa moved around the bed, picking up the book and reading its spine. 

“The History of the Empire,” Lexa read. “The Age of Kings. The Monarchy. These are all very dense old boring books.” 

“Just trying to figure out what I’m getting into is all.” 

Despite herself, Lexa snorted, tossing the rest of the books onto the floor, annoyed by their interruption in her bed. She slunk her way toward the much better interruption in the form of a doctor who once saved a life while someone held a gun to her head. 

“I’ve been a princess for a while, but I’ve never had the benefit of having a woman waiting in my bed for me.” 

“Shut up.” 

Lexa smiled to herself as she hovered over the body in her sheets. She kissed Clarke’s shoulder and she ran her nose along the curve there. But the doctor didn’t move, just smiled and let herself be draped in princess, as her whole weight blanketed her. 

“How was your trip?” 

“Long, torturous, arduous, etc,” she muttered between lazy kisses. “I got a lot of pitying glances from friends who didn’t know how to speak to me suddenly. And I missed you.” 

In the almost dark, Clarke smiled and shifted, turning so the princess could settle atop her completely. She wrapped her arms around broad shoulders and inhaled the smell beneath the plane smell, the one she found in the pillows and bed in the palace. 

“I missed you.” 

“You had all of these books to keep you company. Mmm, that feels good.” 

Hands ran up and down her back, dipping beneath her shirt and finding the skin there. Lexa sighed against her girlfriend’s neck, fully prepared to fall asleep just like that. Clarke didn’t stop, but rather rubbed against her harder. She kissed her girlfriend’s forehead. 

“Want to order food and not leave bed tomorrow?” 

“Mmmm, yes please,” Lexa yawned. “I’m closing the country tomorrow. I can do that, right?” 

“According to the Blackwell Edict of 1126 you actually can close the country with reasonable suspicion of tainted trading products, witchcraft, or unseasonably warm weather. I don’t think anyone actually has, but--”

Lexa lifted her head and peered at Clarke, furrowing at the new information provided. 

“Why do you know that?’ 

“I think you have to know those things when you date a princess.” 

“What do I have to learn now that I’m dating a doctor?” 

“Lots of anatomy practice.” 

“Are to teach me anything tonight, Doc?” she grinned. 

“There are a few places we can start this lesson...” 

XXXXXXXXXX

There were many ways that the queen could feel the storms shaping in her life. It was something she always prided herself on, this innate sense for the shifting winds, knowing well ahead of time when a storm was going to pass by her coast, or when a hurricane was preparing to make landfall. There was something in the air, int he feeling of the day that kept the queen with a weathered eye at all times, her internal barometer attempting to foresee all eventualities. 

All of the preparation was never any use against her daughter. Her internal tracking systems didn’t prepare for Lexa and her calm facade and roaring waves and thunder clouds beneath it all. 

“You told my girlfriend that you would train her to date me?” Lexa bellowed as she marched into the closet. 

The only saving grace was that the queen was between interviews and changing alone versus with her advisors. Her daughter was impetuous and didn’t understand how wagging some tongues were. 

“Welcome home, darling. What do you think? This,” she held up a blazer. “Or this one? I can’t tell which one will say don’t pass this dreadful housing bill, but listen to my proposal for better options  better?” 

In her familiar way, her daughter fumed, meeting her mother’s eyes in the windows. 

“What did you tell Clarke?” 

“What did she tell you?” the queen asked as she picked up another option and looked at herself in the mirror. 

Strong and proud and exponentially furrowed, the middle daughter clenched her jaw and debated what to say. The queen saw the tempest, and that her daughter control it, something that always amazed her. Not many would know how ruled by her passions Lexa truly was, nor how hard she worked to control it. One had to look very close to see those cracks and these moments, when control was barely maintained. 

“She told me that she requested a meeting, which you took. And that she was reading those stupid books and studying with your tutors and not having as much fun as all the montages said it would be, which I don’t quite get, but still, you--”

“I had a lovely meeting with your girlfriend, a very bright and eager doctor who understands how these things work already. You are very welcome.” 

“You--- What?! How is it-- Why would--” Lexa sputtered, her face contorting and her voice raising as her arms flailed slightly, completely stupefied by the response. 

“I am not training her to date you, or whatever flippant phrase you chose for a dramatic flourish, Alexandra,” her mother scolded as she decided, pulling a coat on and eyeing herself precisely. “I don’t know if there’s enough patience in the world to train someone to date you, though Clarke seems to be doing a very good job at that. I rather offered my guidance to someone who was brilliant enough to see what dating you meant within her context of the whole.” 

“She doesn’t have to be good at this. She doesn’t have to learn about stupid laws from six hundred years ago.” 

“She doesn’t,” the queen agreed. “But she chose to.” 

“I wanted her to be separate. I like Clarke because she doesn’t care about all of this stuff.” 

The wrath depleted somewhat, now just simmering in a grumpy storm, stoked by bitterness now more than outright anger, no longer lashing but rather lapping violently at the shore. 

“She doesn’t care about this. She cares about you, and making sure that you’re alright and with someone who knows how to handle things.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“She said that you deserved a partner, not a subject,” Viv explained, turning finally to face her daughter. “I quite liked that. She came to me because you told her that I was the one who kept the family rolling, pulling the strings, or whatever poorly conceived metaphor you constructed about me running your lives.” 

Lexa pursed her lips and crossed her arms again. 

“Mafia don,” she supplied. “I told her you were the one that knew where the skeletons were buried and what their names were.” 

“That’s actually a pretty amusing soliloquy, darling.” 

“I thought so,” Lexa shrugged. 

“I’m not changing Clarke,” her mother promised, grabbing her arms and rooting them together in her dressing room. “I wouldn’t want to. I’m arming her with knowledge, but like any weapon, it is up to the user to when, where, and how they use it.” 

“I wanted to protect--”

“Yes, that’s what she said,” the queen chuckled and cupped her daughter’s cheeks, feeling her relax despite herself. “But you can’t. Do you love her?” 

Lexa felt her mother’s eyes bore into her own. She stared back, concentrating on the feeling of her hands and her eyes and the question at hand. Quickly, she bit her tongue, allowing her brain to catch up before she allowed herself to blurt out an answer. She was a princess; she didn’t blurt. 

“I do,” she sighed. 

“Then for the love of God, woman, you have to help her, not shelter her. She’s amputated entire limbs and performed surgery while donating blood to the patient. She’s not a bloody peach, you know?” 

The queen held her daughter’s smile in her hands, her palms growing warm with a blush. 

“I don’t want to mess it up.” 

“Then don’t.” 

With a gentle tap on her cheek, the queen shook her daughter’s head before kissing her forehead. 

“I should have walked away when I saw her in that bar,” Lexa confessed, finally pulling away from her mother’s affection. “Would have been so much simpler.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“Oh really?” 

“I don’t know if I’d ever get the chance to see you so happy. I’m relieved, and happy to see it for myself.”

Lexa blushed at the words her mother said so easily and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the queen sat at the mirror, waiting for her make up team to arrive. She bashfully looked up and met her mother’s eyes before looking away again quickly. 

“I’m taking Clarke to the cabin for the weekend. Might as well as share some perks before she goes off the deep end with you.” 

“Fine, but be back Sunday evening for that dinner with the ambassadors,” she muttered, earning a groan. “Bring Clarke.” 

[hithisischris]

New Years debut DD

Happy belated (like really belated) NEW YEAR. I hope this year is prosperous for us all. Now I decided to do this the night of New Year’s Eve but I had no idea what to write I just know I wanted to write and I finally got some inspiration, anyway I hope you really like it!

————————————-———————————-

An official year since David and I met, it’s strange knowing that if Georgie hadn’t ended things with me two weeks before the new year, Maya would have never dragged my ass to that party.

“Babe what are you thinking of?” David’s soft voice brought me back to reality “I was just thinking of how we met, and how the fans won’t like me, they’ll think I’m not good enough for you. Which I’m not but you insist I am and that if I leave you, you’ll hunt me down even if it meant leaving the country and looking for me in Europe or something.” He chuckled at my rambling and grabbed my hand, god his hands; they are always so warm and soft. “Y/n you’re gonna be okay, they’ll love you. And if they don’t then why should we care what they think when we love one another” he rubbed circles on my hand and kissed my forehead. “We will get through this together I promise you.” I nodded and looked up at the set up camera. “Are you ready to start recording?” this end of the year David decided to actually do something the first half of the day, later on we will be going out with the rest of our friends so he can get some footage but right now he decided to do the Girlfriend Tag video for his second channel to finally tell his fans about us. I nodded and smiled at him. He leaned down to me and kissed my lips softly.

I was out of the camera view as he introduced the video “alright welcome back to my second channel, this video is gonna be different. It won’t me any bloopers but you guys will love this video-” he did his big dimple smile and glanced at me from behind the camera, my heart was pounding, I fear that maybe the camera could hear it pounding out of my body. I smiled at him even though I was nervous.

“-today I will be introducing you to someone who has become very important to me for the past year-” he signaled me to come out from behind the camera and sit next to him. “-guys this is my very pretty girlfriend y/n and we will be doing the girlfriend/boyfriend tag” I smiled at the camera and he interlocked our hands. “Okay, y/n do you want to start or shall I?” I thought it over, my voice felt like it had dried out. Was the even possible? Could your voice dry out from nerves. Gosh this is why I was never in the vlogs the camera always made me feel like I was being investigated for something, its why David asked me a million times if I was okay with actually making this video and to be honest I was but I still feel like a frog in a laboratory. “Yeah I guess I’ll start” my voice came out scratchy he nodded and went to grab the dry erase boards we’d use to write down our answers. I grabbed my phone which was where we had decided to write all of our questions “okay so hmmmmm the first question is, where was our first date” we immediately wrote down our answers, it was Applebee’s. We showed the camera our answers and then I spoke again “you are right-” I looked at the camera and said, grinning, “David had gotten Natalie to rent it for two hours so we could have a private first date, I had chosen the location because I was honestly craving their fries and didn’t want it to be over the top.” He nodded along with me “yeah it’s true her first words to me were ‘you have no idea how badly I’ve been craving to come eat here’” he laughed at the memory and unlocked his phone to ask a question “hmph I need a hard one-” I laughed at that and my nerves were no longer at bay, it was just like any other time between just with a camera. “-when did you meet my family” he looked at me then the camera and started to write his answer, “doofus you said a hard one, I met them when you made a deal with Ilya that if you could find him, he would have to go with you to Miami” he reveled his answer and after the question it had started to just go back and forth until his last question.

“Okay last question for this video, when and his did we meet?” He smiled at the memory and I smiled at it too, I looked at the camera “we met last year on New Year’s Eve at this party Dom was throwing, my ex had just ended things with me after revealing he’d been cheating on me for a couple months. This happened two weeks before Christmas~” (memory)

“God y/n I have been cheating on you for the past five months, I don’t love you anymore and to be honest I don’t think I have for a while now” my face was hot and teary I couldn’t believe this, all I could think of was how naive I had been and if I could return his Christmas present. After he said that I vividly heard the door of my apartment slam. My friend maya found me on the couch looking up at the ceiling, the tears were already dried but it was obvious I had been crying. “I’m gonna cut the balls off that piece of shit.” I glanced at her and snorted, she hugged me to sleep that night. Maya had been coming over every night after that, she’d make sure I was eating and drinking plenty of water. She hasn’t pushed me into leaving the house and I was thankful but after Christmas came around she decided that I should leave the house. “Okay come on y/n we are done moping and thinking of that selfish jerk. Kayla heard of this party on New Year’s Eve and it’s supposed to be super fun so we are going” I smiled at her and was greatful I had her so I nodded my head and as the night of New Year’s Eve neared she already had a dress picked out for me.

“Okay so have your phone on you on all times just in case we get separated, do not fucking hesitate to tell me if you want to leave. And lastly, are you sure you want to go out we could stay home and watch Boy Meets World on Disney+” I nodded and giggled at her “yes I am sure Maya, now let’s go before Kayla starts spamming you with messages” she snorted and grabbed we made our way downstairs once we got the notification that our Uber arrived. When we had arrived the party was in full blast the stench of weed and the beat of the music could be heard/smelled from down the hall. We made our way into the kitchen looking for drinks “where the fuck are the beers in this place” Maya shouted as we entered the small kitchen “they are in the cooler by the counter” we heard a voice behind us, maya said a quick thanks and grabbed two, I glanced to see who had given us the answer, “you look familiar” I said, maya turned around at my voice and looked at the guy in front of me “holy shut he does” he chuckled and was gonna respond to us when it clicked “youre that guy that dated that girl from that one show, Ohmygod I’m not gonna get this out of my head till I get it. What was her nameeee” Maya opened our beers handing me my bottle, the guy looked at us with excitement and curiousity “holy shit it was Cierra Remirez!” He let out a laugh and nodded. “Yep that’s my ex” he said it with a hand rubbing his neck “my name is Jeff, what are your names?” He seemed to be interested in Maya as he kept glancing at her, I giggled and said “I’m y/n this is Maya” he shook my hand and then mayas shaking her hand a little longer. “So what are you doing in an ordinary party like this I thought you hung out with that guy, what’s his name?” He grinned and finished my sentence “David Dobrik.” I nodded my head. I had heard of his name here and there and knew what he did to get famous but I had never really watched his YouTube videos. “Well he needs his new year montage so he got Dom to throw this party and here we are” I nodded and for a while we made small conversation until I felt like I was third wheeling and said “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick” I glanced at both of them so Maya would get the message of swiping him off his feet, it took me a couple minutes to find the bathroom and once inside I just opened my phone to scroll mindlessly on Instagram I hadn’t known how long I was in the bathroom for until someone opened the door and slipped inside my instincts went on high alert and looked for something Incase I needed to defend myself with. “Uhm excuse me?” The guy in front of me hadn’t noticed me, he had a camera and his forehead leaning against the door he seemed startled at the sound of me voice “holy shit I didn’t know someone was in here-” he quickly turned around “-I’m,,I’m sorry I should have knocked” his cheeks redend slightly, he was cute his hair in shambles and his eyes were captivating. “It’s totally fine I should have closed the door” it became quite the only sound heard was the beat of the music. “I’m David by the way” he extended his hand I had let my guard down feeling at ease with him “y/n. I think I just met your friend Jeff” he looked at little disappointed “so you’re a fan?” I shook my head “no I’ve heard your name before but I have not watched one of your videos” he smirked “that’s a first” he said.

(end of memory)“~after that we stayed in the bathroom sitting uncomfortably in the tub where he made a joke we’d probably catch a disease and forced me to watch a couple of his videos” David laughed “that is so not true I didn’t force you to watch them I said sorry since you’ve never watched any wanna watch a couple of them’ and you said yes” I shook my head “no you said you’d pay me to watch a couple videos and I was like no that’s dumb” he rolled his eyes but didn’t say another word just looked at me and started to smile “we should end the video.” I whispered to which he nodded “alright guys so that was the last question, I hope you guys enjoyed the video from now on you’ll be seeing this pretty lady in all my videos” I shook my head at his statement “well okay not all but I’ll try and get her warmed up for the camera” he gave his last dimple smile at the camera and turned it off.

“Ohmygod I can’t believe that took us two hours, how do you do that every day?” He laughed at my question “well usually I have more fun people to do this with” I immediately pouted and said “I’m hurt you’d say such a thing, I’m not talking to you anymore. You no longer get kisses” he laughed and tried to bring me closer to him I put all my weight to not move and shook my head “I won’t forgive you till you apologize” my face was breaking out into a smile as David kept trying to pull me towards him. He began sitting closer to me his hand resting on my waist “I’m sorryyyy now give me some sugar” I scoffed and glared at him, he pouted “you are the biggest clown I know” “oh so now I’m a clown” I began to laugh and start leaning into him. When I was centimeters from his lips I said “you should start editing if you want to get the video up” and got up to get some water from the kitchen he looked stumped and said “you are an evil person” I laughed and waved a soft bye as he got his laptop and started to work on the video.

An hour and a half had past since he started editing and I was casually watching Criminal Minds “andddd done” David said coming out of his room, I glanced back at him and smiled he sat down next to me and kissed my lips eagerly making up for the tease I gave him earlier. After a minute he stopped and got his phone out, opening Instagram he posted a photo of us a heart for a caption and tagged me. After he posted it he left his phone and leaned his head on my legs falling asleep as I rubbed his hair getting some energy before having to go out for the vlog.

Maya was one of the first people to text me with a screenshot of his post “fucking finally❤️” her message read, looking at the photo it had been the first photo we had taken in the uncomfortable tub with probable diseases. His dimpled smile and my own who had finally been at ease.

[capsized-heart]

Little Lamb

Pairing: vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Reader, incubus!Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Your simple life in the Sokovian countryside is no more. The events of a single night disrupt the natural order of your world. God is silent. He always is.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: (oh boy..) violence, blood, gore, sacrilegious imagery, explicit smut 

A/N: This is my entry for @thewritingdoll​‘s freaky500 writing challenge! Congrats on 500 followers! <3 I wish I could have finished this before yesterday’s deadline, especially before Halloween since this shit is so dark aha 

I had a lot of fun with this! I honestly wish I could have done more bc I could write about Wanda and Quentin forever..I feel like I had to restrain myself a bit. I really like how both Wanda and Quentin can see someone’s deepest fears and thought that dynamic would be really cool for an au. 

I was also inspired to write this after seeing this beautiful moodboard by @tohomorii​...you honestly killed it with that Wanda vampire aesthetic. 

using the quote prompt, “He’s covered in blood again. Why is it he’s always covered in blood?” -harry potter and the half blood prince

Sokovia, 17th century.

Dawn breaks with rosy hues and warm, vibrant gold. The soft, streaky clouds of early autumn float lazily by, stippling the sky with pinks and baby blues. Your eyes follow a flock of blackbirds as they flicker across a patch of sunlit horizon in a melodious chortle, climbing and climbing beyond to lofty heavens. You smile.

Your purse jingles with the sound of newfound coin. You’ve had a productive morning at market, having left your family homestead yesterday afternoon for the day’s ride. You’d sold your stock of bread and eggs to Ms. Ryba, homemade jams to old Dmitri, trading your other goods for the groceries mother had asked of you. As a surprise, you’d also purchased a small leatherbound book for your papa, a new piece of stitching work and silks for mama. Gifts carefully wrapped in linen and secured in your saddlebag, a small bit of happiness glowing in the crook of your ribs. Your heart feels full. You finger the crucifix around your neck.

Times have been hard for you and your family. This summer’s harvest had been exceptionally low with heat and droughts. Money has never been a luxury and you’ve been broken with the disciplines of how to bargain hard, conserve, safeguard, and how to put the needs of your parents before your own. 

These gifts will bring favor and approval to their eyes. A godly daughter. Honor thy father and thy mother.  

You tilt your face upwards to the flushed morning, relish the fresh breeze tickling your skin and murmur a quick prayer of thanks.

O God, who hast folded back the mantle of the night to clothe us in the golden glory of the day, chase from our hearts all gloomy thoughts, and make us glad with the brightness of hope, that we may effectively aspire to unwon virtues, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

You ride atop Iryna, your family’s tender Carpathian pony now weighed down with your spoils, and watch the fields of your homeland ripple in red and honey light. Even Iryna seems to sense your good mood as her head bobs with her quick gait. You balance a basket of apples in your lap, a reward that you had purchased for her (and for yourself) after a long day’s journey.

This is a safe country, not at all uncommon for young peasant girls to ride to market alone. Broad plains and cut mountains, you’d passed your closest neighbors about ten miles back, welcome solitude on each homestead.

You like to spend your time on these rides daydreaming of riding in a royal procession as princess, or as cavalry returning from battle abroad. How you would be welcomed back home to your kingdom!

Smoke curls from your cottage chimney as the edge of your family’s property comes into view. You squeeze your heels against Iryna in encouragement and she trots faster, the promise of a waiting breakfast and the smiles of your mother and father urging you forward. 

The smell of hay and manure greets you as you lead Iryna into the barn. You adjust your skirts, woolen tunic, riding cloak, and wimplet before dismounting, careful not to catch anything on your saddle or packages. You slide off Iryna’s bridle and feed her an apple, rubbing soothing circles into her neck as she devours the fruit, snorting happily. 

You give her fresh feed, change her water, quickly removing your tack and supplies and turn her out into the pasture, whispering a promise to give her a thorough brushing later. She gallops away with a swish of her tail. With your arms full of supplies and balancing your bushel of apples, you kick through dust and dirt and enter your cottage.

You’re about to call out to your mama when your voice stops in your throat. The nauseating stench of rot fills your nose, familiar and ominous, like when papa slaughters the chickens for winter stock. Only this time it’s inside your home. 

Your arms go limp and your packages fall to the floor in a muffled thud of wrapped paper. Apples bounce, scatter, rolling through soot and blood. 

Your father lies crumpled, his strong body disfigured in a tangle of limbs. His skull has been crushed into a crown of grey matter and gore, leaking like tears down the planes of his face. His eyes and mouth hang open in a frozen, silent scream, twisted skyward in agony. Protectively draped over your mother in his final moments. 

Your mother is spread-eagled with her throat slit open and her veil stuffed into her mouth, rosary beads crudely circled tight around her wrists in manacles. Her skirts have been torn, bunched around her thighs and you see violet bruises in the shape of hands.

You stumble to the hearth and wretch up bile and water. You heave, vomit, tears stinging your eyes and mucus dribbling down your chin until there is nothing left in your stomach but a wriggling pit of nerves. You can’t breathe, can’t think. Strength evaporates from your body and you sink in front of the cooling embers of the fireplace.

You look to the bodies of your parents. You don’t bother trying to feel for a pulse. You are numb.

You stay beside them until the light outside turns bleak and grey, until your legs ache from kneeling on hard wooden floor for countless hours. Slowly, finally, you wipe your mouth, lift yourself up. 

You find the scythe used to harvest wheat. It feels good and heavy in your hands, makes you feel strong. You make rounds to the rest of the property with it tight in your grip.

Your homestead has been completely ransacked. What livestock that hasn’t been stolen lies dead, slain and swarmed by flies. You’re left with one cow, six chickens, two goats, and Iryna. 

You salvage whatever raw materials you can. You return the scythe back to the shed, unused, the sharp, pristine metal gleaming a cool blue. Part of you had hoped that the intruders still lurked about. Maybe then you could have descended upon them with all the silent wrath of Jael, as she had killed Sisera. 

You whistle a low blast. Iryna trots over to you, nuzzles your hand for another treat. It makes you smile and fresh tears to drip down your cheeks. You wonder if she can sense anything awry, sense that your entire world has been violently turned on its head. You don’t think you’ll ever crave apples again. 

They’ll only taste of sin. 

**

It takes you well into the night to dig two deep holes. The ground is frigid with frost and your breath clouds, fogging the air as you work the soil in an eerie echo of familiar, mundane times. Instead of the sun, the moon guides your hand. Instead of toiling the fields to lay in crops, you prepare the graves of your mother and father. 

Sweat slicks your skin, dirt streaking down your neck and arms. The moon has dipped below the hillside when you finish, plunging you in complete darkness. You thrust the spade into the ground.   

You are not strong enough to carry the bodies of your parents. You will have to tie them to Iryna and bring them here to the fields. But you cannot tonight with the last of the moonlight gone.

And tomorrow is the day of the Sabbath, your holy day of rest. You will have to wait to bury them.

You hug yourself tight. From the cold, from the juvenile fear of death and despair.    

Did Christ not feel this way upon the cross? Abandoned by his own father? Alone? 

And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" that is, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

**

You rise late. Fatigue still sits deep in your bones when you go and collect eggs and milk for your breakfast. You step over your mother and father. Splattered blood, now dry, ring around their heads in crimson halos.  

You spend the day idly. You read the book you had bought for your father, practice your stitching with the embroidery hoop and silks meant for your mother. You heat water for a bath and sprinkle in some of the salts and oils she kept tucked away in her bedroom. You wash away tears and dirt and grime. 

You relish the hot water as it seeps into your tense muscles, watch the milky surface ripple around your limbs. The cottage is quiet and seems to settle around you. 

You were always the last to bathe out of your small family. You would be told to fetch and heat the water, waiting until your father finished, then your mother. By the time it was your turn, the bathwater was always cold and dirty. You were not allowed to change it out as it was costly and a waste of time. You would be quick to rinse.

Now, you sit until your fingers becomes wrinkled and pruny, your skin and hair fragranced with the smell of rose petals and lavender. There is no one to scold you to hurry up. 

**

Iryna watches over you as you pack the last of the dirt over the burials. You’re both exhausted. You finish at midday. You finger the crucifix around your neck.

O God, grant unto us, in this dying life, that peace for which we humbly pray, and hereafter to attain unto everlasting joy in Thy presence; through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

**

You pass your days in solitude and in fear. You wonder if the bandits will return. It makes you pray harder, harder than you have in your entire life. You ask for forgiveness, for protection, for salvation.

The windy autumn nights bring chills and unease. The windows rattle in their frames, the cottage groans, and the goats bleat in the pressing darkness.

Visions of your murdered parents dance behind your eyelids. A crown of gore, blood red tears, suffocating rosary beads. The possibility of specters and demons and Satan’s lurking servants seem to hide behind each darkened corner. The homestead feels too vast, too isolating. You feel yourself slowly going mad, every howl of curling wind making you shudder in your cot.

You ask for companionship. A friend to share company.

**

A young woman’s voice calls out to you. The day is abnormally warm and you’re hanging laundry to dry in the sun when you first lay eyes on her.

She wears a riding cloak and veil, a pretty woolen dress of fine cardinal fabric. Her hair falls in loose waves down to her chest, catching the sunlight in a gleam of muted copper. 

She leads the most magnificent looking horse you’ve ever seen. A towering black Clydesdale that stands eighteen hands high with a glossy coat and tail, powerful muscles moving with every stride. Curiously, you see no saddle or tack, only the leather bridle she uses to guide him.

When you approach her, the young woman asks if you are master of the house. You respond with, yes. She smiles and takes your hands in hers, inquiring if she may stay for a few nights before continuing her journey to the next town. She says she will pay you with coin and labor, with whatever help you may need around the property.

The gesture surprises you. Travelers are few in this stretch of country and your family has never housed one before. But, you think of how turning this woman away would mean another day’s ride for her until she reached the next homestead. As you’ve understood, these trails are no longer safe. Especially for a young woman riding alone.

When you agree to offer her lodging, she blesses you with another radiant smile and kisses your cheeks. It’s enduring, warms your heart and tingles your fingers still laced with her own. 

**

As promised, Wanda helps you with your chores. She does not ask about your family or parents or why a young girl of your age could indeed be master of a homestead all by herself. You do not ask why a beautiful woman is traveling alone. Instead, she carefully listens to your instructions and assists you perfectly.

You’ve just finished gathering firewood when the two of you head to the barn to tend to your few and precious livestock. You muck out stalls, change hay and water. Wanda’s Clydesdale watches you from one of the extra stalls you’ve placed him in. 

When Wanda tries to lead out Iryna, she flinches away and flattens her ears in a shrill whinny. It catches you both off guard and you quickly take the rope from Wanda’s hands before Iryna can hurt herself, placating her with a low hush.

“She does not like me.” Wanda frowns. It’s charmingly youthful, makes her look like a pouting child.

“She is not used to strangers,” you soothe, smiling gently. You return Iryna to her stall and slide the door shut. “What is your Clydesdale’s name?” You ask. 

Wanda’s mood seems to lift instantly and you catch a glimmer in her hazel eyes. “Paimon,” she tells you. “Paimon is friendly to everyone, especially strangers. But, he loves pretty girls most of all.”

Later, you invite her into your home and the two of you relax your tired bones by the evening fire. 

**

The days grow cold and dark. You and Wanda now share the bed of your late parents, bigger and warmer than your own. You awake each glowing morning with her slender arms wrapped tight around your waist, her face buried into the crook of your neck. 

For warmth, you tell yourself.

Her sighs, her moans in sleep stir something in the pit of your stomach.

You’re unsure of what other reason you would prefer.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

**

Wind and rain whistle against the glass panes of your cottage. It is a dreary, bleak morning of storm, one that has forced you and Wanda to remain inside. A fire crackles in the hearth and throws dancing shadows along the walls. You sit and read while Wanda busies herself with housework. It is the first time you’ve felt peace in months. 

She returns from the pantry, setting down her washcloth and bucket with a faint groan. You look up.

Warm, flickering light highlights the skin of her collarbones and cheeks. Wanda has plaited back her hair to keep it out of her eyes, save for a few wispy strands that fall to frame her face.

You swallow, enraptured. 

She catches you staring and her irises seem to glow brighter with firelight. She turns slowly, sauntering towards you with measured, delicate steps. 

“Little one, didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s impolite to stare?” she whispers. She walks until she is flush against you and the fabric of her dress brushes your toes. Without looking away, she eases the book out of your hands and sets it facedown on the table. Your father’s bible.

Your mouth dries up, your pulse hammers. 

Wanda tilts her head, her expression clouding. Then, she sinks to her knees to straddle you completely, arms winding around your neck. 

“Sweet girl, when I ask you a question, I expect a response.”

Her fingers trace your jaw, looking down at you with a stern, flinty gaze. You find your hands holding the swell of her hips, pulling her closer.

“Those who see you will stare and wonder, ‘Is this the man who made the world tremble and shook up kingdoms?’” you recite into the ever closing gap between your mouths. She sighs, high and breathless, feel her overheated body slowly start to move against you. 

Your lips and tongue meet in a tangled kiss. Your first. She tastes of myrtle and honeyed milk. You feel yourself falling when you gently cup this young woman’s face in your hands, kissing and touching and her fingers lustfully twisting into the nape of your neck. Dizzy, ashamed. Your skin is on fire. 

You think of Lucifer’s wings burning away as He hurtled towards earth. 

“I’m so thirsty, my love. Thirsty for you,” Wanda gasps. Her pupils are blown impossibly wide, ringed in red. Her canines glint in the darkness. “Will you let me drink?”

You remember Iryna’s skittishness, Wanda’s beast of a horse, Paimon. No saddle, no luggage. A lone, beautiful woman wandering the countryside with exquisite eyes and sharp, sharp teeth. A devil in masquerade who never intended to leave. 

Slowly, you untie the strings of your dress’s blouse and expose your shoulders, the dip of your chest. Wanda’s lips part hungrily, the shadow of her eyelashes fluttering like feathers. 

She sets you back and runs her fingers over the thin skin of your neck. Her touch is smooth, gentle. Then, she leans over you, keeping you still with a single hand wrapped deliciously around your throat, pressing you deeper into the wooden chair. 

The bite of teeth, then white pleasure. Your vision rolls and you writhe against her in a fit of sighs and otherworldly bliss. Suction, flickering tongue, the obscene sounds of her mouth devouring you whole. You moan, cage her against your body and you hear her chuckle. 

Blood trails down her throat and drips between her breasts when she finally sits back, sated. Half-lidded eyes gazing down at you with more love and adoration than you’ve ever known.

You are her blessed wine. 

Take this, all of you, and drink from it,

for this is the chalice of my Blood,

the Blood of the new and everlasting covenant,

which will be shed for you and for all

so that sins may be forgiven.

Do this in memory of me.

“Amen.” she murmurs with a kiss. 

God is silent. He always is.

**

Wanda pulls you atop her. She cradles your face, smooths back your hair as she looks up at you in the silvered morning light.

“Little one, would you like to live forever?”

The question takes you by surprise, makes you pause. She takes the opportunity to kiss your fingertips, arch her hips into you. It makes your breath hitch, but your mind is clear. 

“As long as it’s with you.” 

She grins, gleaming and bright, the first glimpse of sun you’ve seen in this godforsaken autumn. 

“Oh, my sweet little bride, my princess of night.” she sighs.

“Yes,” you whimper. 

She gazes into your mind and sees what you’ve always wanted.

**

Wanda prepares for the ritual that very evening. Candles, parchment, a single serrated knife. 

She bathes the two of you in the shared tub, washes your hair and cleanses you, a mock baptism with soap and scented oils. Her fingers wander, coaxing pleasure as you lean back against her. 

Finally, she guides you to the bed when the world outside stands cold, silent, watching, at the cusp between night and day. 

Wanda eases your finger between her lips and pricks the skin with the point of her teeth. Her eyes flutter before reluctantly removing it, a string of saliva following suit. You watch the single bead of blood bloom and sign the parchment with a steady hand. 

Cold air brushes your cheeks, skin tingling as if touched, breath in your ear. You feel your vision haze in and out of focus, a foreign sensation overcoming your body. 

Then, a young man appears before you. He’s tall and lean and handsomely bearded, dark hair curling against his forehead, down the tufts of his chest and arms. His eyes, green and glimmering, inspect you carefully, tracing every curve of your exposed skin. You feel achingly vulnerable, pinned. 

Your eyes trail lower and lower until…

You find that he is completely bare. You flush and turn to hide your face into Wanda’s shoulder. She chuckles, gently takes your chin in her hand and tilts your gaze back onto him. 

“This is the flesh of Adam, sweet one,” she murmurs. “It is not shameful to lust. Did God not create man in his own image?”

Wanda reaches out her other hand in offering and the man takes it, lowers himself onto the bed. There is an air of familiarity between the two of them as they share a kiss of greeting. 

“Welcome, Quentin.” she hums. She fondly runs her thumb along his cheek and he leans into her touch. Quentin’s eyes then flicker to you.

“Is this my gift?” he asks. His voice is soft, sweet like honey. Wanda hums again. Quentin smiles warmly, looking you up and down. Your blood ignites.

With one hand on both of your faces, she guides you and Quentin together. He kisses you, surprisingly soft and gentle, cradling your jaw with a touch that makes your stomach flutter. You hear Wanda moving, feel her touch.

Some of the tension wound tight in your shoulders evaporates with Wanda beside you. It encourages you to be braver, bolder as you kiss the incubus back more urgently, touch his skin. Quentin responds with a purr and tangles a hand in your hair, mouthing at your neck, tracing your puncture wounds with a soothing, possessive tongue.

He draws you upon his lap, still pulled flush against him and the heat of him so close to the most intimate part of your anatomy makes you timid, afraid. 

“Relax, lamb.” he whispers. “Enjoy this, enjoy us.”  

The broad touch of his fingers against you makes you mewl in surprise. Wanda hushes you with a soft kiss, takes one of your hands in hers. Quentin’s palm rests on the plane of your stomach, his other easing into where you’re most aching and tight, where a man’s strong touch has never breached. 

He slowly guides your hips upon his hand, until his fingers glisten with your slick and your body starts to warm with the glow of angelfire. 

“Keep going, little lamb,” Quentin urges into your ear. “You know how, don’t you? Those lonely nights when your parents lay fast asleep abed?”

You moan. Indeed you do. Nights where darkness was most suffocating and you prayed that God would turn a blind eye to your lust. 

You shatter with the heat of hell rain. With your body still clenching and fluttering, Quentin lays you out beneath him, his eyes darker, lips turned up into a sly smile. You’re breathless.

He feels cold when he enters you, a sensation you would have least expected from a creature molded by burning sin and Lucifer’s fire. Yet, it pushes your poor, mortal flesh to the thresholds of pleasure and you reach for Wanda, keening. Wanda slinks closer and pushes your hair out of your eyes.

“How does she feel?”

“Like a dream,” Quentin moans, laughing. “You want Wanda and I both, lamb? I can see it in your mind’s eye. So needy, you are. I’ll give you what you want, lamb. You’re doing so good for me.”

**

You don’t remember waking up. A blood moon hangs in the sky.

You feel the lull of pleasure, of Quentin’s lush curls buried between your thighs. Your fingers catch on horns, his velvety tongue forked as it slips into you. 

Your world blurs around you, dreamlike. 

Again, you reach for Wanda and she laces your fingers together with a smile, kisses your damp forehead.

“Is this real?” you moan into her neck.

“As real as your God, sweet one. Are you ready to come home?”

You nod, drowsy with euphoria. You see Wanda take up the silver knife and again, you offer your hand. 

You wince when she slices open your palm, watch the blood seep over and down your arm in great drops. Quentin lifts his head from between your legs, intoxicatingly beautiful with shining lips and heat in his eyes. He keeps his gaze on you as he drives into you again, as your hand stains his chest and neck with crimson, ravishing you again and again. You feel Wanda’s tongue and then the bite of her fangs. 

You arch, reborn with the blessing of immortality and pressed between two demons.

You wonder how many times these two have completed a ritual like this, with Quentin’s powerful body covered in virgin’s blood. 

His blessed cup.

And the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful.