#to the point of my father yesterday saying that ��it would have been better if i had just died back in the day”

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Difficult VI

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're a racing star

Ingrid can remember it like it was yesterday.

It wasn't the best race she'd watched, not with you crashing out from third position on the first lap, not when you'd fallen from your bike and rolled on the floor for a bit.

But then you'd gotten up again and you'd gotten back onto your bike and sped off to catch the pack.

It'd been a brutal battle for you to make up the places you lost and then from last you were second, closing in on first around the second to last corner.

Ingrid can remember the commentators when she watched the race back.

"And...Oh my god, Redbull's Rookie sweep pasts her championship rival! From last to first at the first Barcelona MotoGP race, it's the home favourite! The Norwegian raised in Barcelona, the Rookie in her first year! Y/n Engen-León crosses the line! Her first win! One of many I think!"

Ingrid can remember it all so clearly as you parked your bike, took off your helmet and ran at her, sobbing into her shoulder.

It was your first year in MotoGP. It was your first race win too and you sobbed like that little girl who once watched Ingrid lift the Champion's League trophy.

And, now, you're here.

"I'm Max Verstappen, former Formula One driver."

"And I'm Y/n Engen-León, current MotoGP champion and I'm going to be trading in my motorbike for a Formula One car."

You'd been a Redbull girl since your very first race at the tender age of five. It had been on one of the dirt tracks in Mapi's hometown and a Redbull representative had come up to you all at the end of the race to discuss your potential.

From there, you'd grown up driving for Redbull. You'd driven for them in Motocross and then now in MotoGP too.

You were more than happy to drag Ingrid and Mapi along to your interviews and opportunities.

But Ingrid has to admit to some degree of fear seeing you in Max Verstappen's old championship winning car.

It had taken years for Ingrid to get used to you on a bike and while a car is meant to be safer, that fear increases tenfold as she watches you mess around with the steering wheel and test out the pedals.

"I like this," You say to the camera before turning to your parents," Mumma, Mami, check this out."

Always eager, Mapi practically prances forward to look at where you're pointing. Ingrid follows a little more slowly, a tense smile on her face.

"It'll be fine, Mumma," You say, reaching out to take her hand," I'll be okay. I was made for this kind of thing."

As Ingrid watches you peal onto the track, she can't help but think that you're kind of right. You've adored all types of racing since you were tiny, the little daredevil that you were.

It was just luck that Mapi's father got you a bike instead of a kart or else you would have ended up in one of these cars rather than your bike.

You had a need for speed and a racer's disregard for speeding laws.

You took to all forms of racing as you turn through a corner neatly and cross the line.

"Woo!" You say, pumping your fist as you step out," That was good. Was it good?"

Max Verstappen looks up from the data, nodding. "Two seconds off the reference lap."

You grin. "Not so bad for my first time, huh?"

He purses his laps, eyes studying you. "I think you could do better."

Your grin stretches into a smirk. "I know I could do better."

You do lap after lap after lap until your barely one-hundredth of a second off your reference lap.

Ingrid knows, in theory, that Formula One racing is different to your racing but you make it look so easy. You look like you've been racing cars your entire life.

"Look at her," Mapi says in awe," Look! Look!"

Your last lap is your best, one tenth faster than the reference and you're grinning like you've just won your home race again.

Your fists pump up as you jump from the car, pulling off your helmet.

"Did you see? Mumma, Mami? Did you see?"

"I got a video!" Mapi says," I'll send it to your Abuelo, he'll be so excited to see this!"

After your drive in the car, you end up in another interview with Verstappen.

You've become quite the star in your racing series and the team are really trying to capitalise on it.

"Yeah, I mean," Ingrid catches you saying," I've been racing since I was little. My Abuelo got me my first bike when I was still young and we had to hide it from my Mumma for months because she didn't approve."

Ingrid can still remember seeing you on your first bike. She can still remember thinking that it was surprising they made ones that small. She can still remember your racing suit and your helmet and the joy you got out of something simple as going up and down the bumps of the dirt track.

"I don't think I can even explain what I felt when I won in my rookie year. It means so much to me and my parents had to sacrifice a lot to help me on my journey. I didn't have quite as much success in Motocross as I'm having in MotoGP right now. I know my Mumma would prefer if I chose a safer sport but I think that's why I try so hard. I want to prove to her that despite all these injuries and despite all the danger, she did a good thing in letting me keep racing. I could have driven under Spain's flag if I wanted but Mumma's Norwegian and I'm Norwegian and I want to make her proud."

Something in Ingrid breaks then and she turns her head into Mapi's neck, tears falling from her eyes as she tries not to sob out loud.

Of course she's proud of you. She's so proud of you. She'll always be proud of you.

With or without a championship.

"And of course, my Mami and her family are the ones that got me into racing. Her father used to be my mechanic when I was a kid and Mami was always signing me up for races and supporting me when I got hurt. She designs all my helmets. I think my first win at Barcelona was really the culmination of all the hard work she put into me and my racing."

Verstappen nods along with you. "Would you say that your mothers are your biggest supporters?"

You grin. "Definitely."

[slu7formen]

uhmmmmmm luke castellan "can I be the godfather?" but he is the actual father??? is that anything?

luke castellan x pregnant!reader

idk if this is what you asked for, but it’s what I understood 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ pls let me know if I’ve done it wrong (tw: high chances of that)

warnings: reader is pregnant (duh), swearing, fluff ig <3

₊˚⊹♡

"I'm pregnant"

Luke stares at you, his expression stunned. You don't even know if he's happy, sad, scared, or has completely turned into a whole-ass statue.

"What?" he pushes out of his lips with inmerse difficulty.

You sigh. This boy knew damn well you hate having to repeat yourself. "I'm pregnant, Luke"

"I heard what you said" he clarifies, lifiting his hand. "I'm just... trying to process."

There's a weird silence, not tense and thick, but not a comfortable either. You cover your legs more with the blanket, lifiting it up to your tummy, as if trying to cover the ungrown belly that was very much already working on its own to bring to the world a new life.

"How long have you known?" he finally breaks the silence.

"I found out yesterday" you answer.

Luke's eyebrows raise, as if you had just said something far more surprising than ´I'm pregnant´. "And you didn't tell me?" he pushed.

"I'm telling you now!" you retort.

Luke covers his face. You still can't figure out his feelings; if he's mad, if he's excited, if he's freaking out. And that makes you feel a bit scared. You start feeling a bit desperate; you didn't plan what you would do if he didn't react the way you wanted him to react. You didn´t exactly know what reaction you were expecting from him either.

"How did this even happen?"

You give him a look. "Do you want me to explain it to you?"

"Gods-, not..." he smacks his own forehead in an act of dumbness. "I'm sorry"

You nod. At this point, there's nothing else to say or do. The bomb had already been thrown.

"Are you gonna keep it? I mean, do you want to?"

You knew he wasn't asking you to do exactly what you thought of doing the second you saw that test. He was asking you the same question you asked yourself for hours and hours, what were you gonna do now?

You sighed heavily. "You know I've been thinking about leaving camp" you say, forcing Luke to go back to that conversation you two had just a few weeks away, "My time has ended here. Maybe this is what I needed to realize I should leave"

"No, don't be ridiculous" he answers almost immediately.

You raise your eyebrows. "Don't call me ridiculous. You know I can't stay here forever, Luke"

"I'm very much aware of that" Luke seems to want to add something, but he doesn't.

If it were up to Luke, he would stay at camp until the day he died. What could he possibly want from the outside world? Studies? A family? A normal life? He forgot about those possibilities before he even turned twelve. Most demigods outgrew camp, like you wanted to do, but that was not on Luke's radar. You weren't surprised; he was a hero, the perfect son of Hermes. Of course he would stay at camp, and that would only be his first of many heroic achievements.

"I'll leave as soon as camp ends" you state, as if you had suddenly decided it all.

But now, Luke wanted to leave with you. He wanted to take care of you, the same care he's been taking for the last months since he got to know you better, maybe even treat you a lot better, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. You wanted to leave, and you weren't inviting him.

"Then, can I ask you something?" he asks.

You shrug with a small nod, "Anything"

"Can I be the godfather?"

He had a serious face, not the one when he was playing pranks or joking around, the one he wore when he was dead serious. Your stare at his face, ice cold. He seems like he had already come up with the idea, as if that was the first thing that he thought about when you gave him the news.

"Luke, are you fucking dumb?"

The poor guy widens his eyes, surprised by the sudden and very offensive answer. "What did I do?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me to be the godfather when you are the father!?"

His expression turns into an understanding, a sudden ´oh´ moment. "Are you serious?" he asks, almost as if he was asking you if you were totally fully a hundred percent sure.

You wanted to punch his nose.

"Luke. Who else am I having sex with if it isn't you!?" you can't help but yell at his face, his dumbness in a situation like this surprising you more than anything else.

"I was just making sure! What if it was from your ex? You slept with him a few months ago"

"I've been pregnant for less time than that, Luke!"

"I'm sorry! But I had to be sure!"

You take a deep breath, covering your face in frustration.

Luke stares at you for a second, almost as if trying to decipher your own emotions now. Then, he starts laughing, a real laughter. You lift your gaze, seeing his head tilt backwards.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's just-," Luke's laughs continue for a little longer, "it's so weird. It's so weird to think I'm a dad"

"The dumbest dad to step a toe on earth, yes" you bite back, still unable to believe you were having a whole conversation with a guy that thought he was not the father of your child. Like-, why would you say it first to someone who isn't the father? He ignores your comment, but his lips curling up in a tiny smile. His expression shows you he's happy, and the realization makes your heart jump.

"Can I ask you another question?" he asks again, biting back a little grin forming on his lips.

"Depends, are you gonna ask if we used protection?"

"Would you let me go with you?"

That caught you off guard. You stare at his eyes, dark and shiny in the summer night. He seems nervous, anxious for the answer. His hand is fidgeting, and his leg is jumping. You feel yourself getting a little dizzy, the adrenaline in your blood making you a little more lightheaded.

"Why would you go with me?" you ask, as if the answer would explain all the possible reasons.

"Well, now that I know that it's mine," he begins, trying to lighten the mood a little. The cold stare of your tired eyes makes him instantly stop though. He clears his throat before continuing, "I'd like to help and be by your side. If you let me"

The last words stung a bit, knowing that he knew that there was a chance you would deny his offer. You weren't with Luke, not explicitly, or oficially, yet you'd known him for so long, and so well, that it felt odd not having him in your life. He was like a constant, a stable, and a good friend. It would be difficult, but you knew the road wouldn't be impossible, not if he was the one walking the same path.

"I'd like to take responsability. I don't want this kid to grow the same way you and I and all of the other demigods did" he continues, as if the silence was hurting him.

You'd never met someone as hurt with this whole demigod situation as Luke, which was ironic judging by how perfectly skilled and behaved he was. A clearly absent father, a mother gone mad, living in the streets for years, alone, hungry, cold, sweaty, hurt. If it was you, you wouldn't have survived, yet he managed to put on that mask and walk out and not let anyone know how destroyed his heart was. Luke was strong, which led him to be heroic. Did he need it? No, but he knew when and who to use it with. You loved that about him.

Besides, he was good with kids.

"You know, you're not the worst choice of a father" you tease. You can see him smile, relieved, his shoulders relaxing.

"Really?" he asks, hopeful.

He smiles widely, and his smile is so contagious that you can't help but mirror him. He pushes himself off his seat in a flash, kneeling next to you. He puts his arms around your body and lifts you up. You laugh loudly, surprised by the sudden act. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you off the bed.

He stops for a moment, gently putting you down on the floor again. He hugs you softly then, pressing his forehead to yours.

"We're suppossed to get married now, right?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

"What?"

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 11.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the events of ch 11 in jk's pov

☆word count: 1.2k

☆a/n: this one made me sad :( hope you guys like it! I've purposefully not put the full explanation bc it hits better later in the story sooo sorry about that. also just a note that depression sucks and I hope none of you guys have to deal with it and, if you do, please know that you aren't alone <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook is annoyed. He’s been annoyed all day, and he really just wants to go home.

To go home to you.

“What’s got you sulking?” Jimin asks, and four pairs of eyes shoot towards Jungkook.

Indeed, they are at the restaurant for lunch, Gabrielle having joined them to eat on her lunch break from her internship. 

“Nothing,” Jungkook says, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip.

Taehyung frowns, yet remains silent. It’s been happening a lot frequently, and Jungkook has truly, really been annoyed by it.

“Missing OC?” Jimin teases, wiggling his eyebrows and earning a punch in the shoulder by Sera.

“Shut up,” she says as Jungkook clenches his jaw.

“Will you please fucking stop with that?” Jungkook lets out, unable to keep his ire from his voice.

Jimin’s gaze widens, and then he laughs. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

“Maybe because you’ve been a little shit about this the whole week?”

“You’re aware it’s making it seem like it’s true…”

“Stop, Jimin,” Sera intervenes, her tone stern and authoritative.

The only tone Jimin ever listens to. Indeed, Jimin stops, pouting, and he mumbles an apology. Jungkook ignores it, his gaze shifting to Taehyung, and he doesn’t miss the muscle feathering under Taehyung’s skin as he clenches his jaw.

“What?” Jungkook spits, unable to help himself.

“You fucking my sister?”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, his heart clenching in his chest. “Nope. You guys need to fucking leave me alone is all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. This time, it’s Ariane’s turn to talk, and she does so with a pointed glare at Taehyung.

“I thought we said yesterday that we weren’t going to talk about her anymore.”

They did. Because scenes like this one have been happening the whole trip, and Jungkook really just wants to go home. The thought sticks around all day, up until they’ve had their shares of drink back at the Air Bnb, not feeling like going out.

Maybe Jungkook’s foul mood has been contributing to everyone’s lack of enthusiasm about going out, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d much rather stay at the Air Bnb, where he doesn’t have to avoid girls coming up to him trying to flirt.

Except Gabrielle. Though it’s not like that with Gabrielle, and he knows she’s a safe space. As much as someone can be without knowing about you - he reckons his only true safe space is you.

Perhaps that’s why he ends up sitting in his room with Gabrielle while the others chill in the living room. Partly to catch up, but also mostly to laugh at the absurdity of their parents wanting them to marry, as if they ever would.

“They’re crazy,” Gabrielle repeats for the hundredth time. “Complètement fou.”

Jungkook nods. “It’s nothing new. They’ve been like that since high school.”

Gabrielle chuckles, turning her head towards Jungkook. “Is your dad still an asshole?”

Jungkook winces, because he feels like his father has only been getting worse and worse with time, finding new ways to put Jungkook through hell all the time. Though the ignoring has been better than the fights and the constant insults he’d used to receive when he was younger, if he’s being honest.

“Yup. You really think someone like him could change for the better?”

Gabrielle slightly shakes her head. “Nah. People like our parents will die as shitty as they were the day they were born.”

Jungkook likes to think that his parents weren’t always like this. That, perhaps they were just corrupted by money growing up. But then again he can’t reconcile the image of his parents being kind to the one that he knows, that he’s known all his life.

So instead, he raises his beer. “Cheers to that.”

There’s a silence as Gabrielle drinks from the wine bottle she carried to the bedroom when they left the rest of the group back in the living room. Jungkook’s thoughts trail to you, and he wonders what you’re up to right now. You mentioned you were going out with your friends - are you already with them, or are you at home thinking about him like he’s thinking about you, too?

“What’s going on with Taehyung’s sister?” Gabrielle asks out of the blue.

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. And though he wishes to say everything, to tell Gabrielle about what he feels for you, he knows he can’t. Not as long as you haven’t said it’s okay to talk about it.

And not when Gabrielle would likely tell Ariane, and Ariane would then tell Taehyung.

“Not you too,” Jungkook grumbles, and he hopes Gabrielle can’t spy the blush slowly dusting his cheeks, up to the tip of his ears.

“I’m just wondering!” Gabrielle says, and she lets out a small laugh before pushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen pictures, I feel like she would be your type.”

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound as he shrugs his shoulders.

“So?” Gabrielle presses.

“So what?”

She rolls her eyes, laughing again. “Is something going on between you and her?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, preparing himself to lie to the one person that he’s never had to lie to before. “No.”

Gabrielle remains silent, the weight of her gaze on his profile heavy, and then she sighs. “Then, can I ask for your help?”

He stiffens. “What for?”

He knows what to expect - it’s the same as back when they were in high school, and she’d needed his help more than once then. Though he’d used not to mind, this time he hates it. So much so that he gets up, heading towards the door.

“Please,” Gabrielle says, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. “S’il-te-plait, Jungkook.”

“No,” he reaffirms, turning to face her. He thinks of you, thinks of the last time he kissed you, and wishes he was with you right now. “I can’t do this again.”

“Just this once,” she insists. “And then I will never ever ask that of you again.”

He thinks of the years. He thinks of Gabrielle defending him when his father insulted him during a dinner, or that time at the charity. He thinks about every night they’d fallen asleep in the same bed dreaming about a day where they wouldn’t have to worry about their family’s influence anymore. He’d thought she’d be okay now, independent as she was, but it seems she hasn’t escaped the pressure of her family yet, much like him.

“Gaby, I really can’t…” he trails off, scanning her features, hoping that she’ll understand, that she’ll know you are in his life and would never do something like that to you.

“Please,” Gaby says, her gaze begging.

He hates himself. He always has, more than he’d ever care to admit, but Jungkook hates himself too much for what he says next.

“Just this once.”

It’s like the universe was planning for this to happen anyway. Indeed, there’s laughter behind the door, and Gabrielle immediately grabs his face, pulling him down into a kiss. Jungkook closes his eyes, tells himself that you’ll understand, that he won’t lose you. 

When Gabrielle pulls away, looking just as uncomfortable as him, Jungkook whispers, “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

It’s easy, after, to pretend that the tears in his eyes are caused by Gabrielle. Even as Taehyung claps him on the shoulder as if to congratulate him, Jungkook doesn’t have to hide how much he aches from the inside out.

Gabrielle leaves, and Jungkook goes to bed right away, wishing to be able to skip time until he can see you again.

Until he can prove to himself that he hasn’t lost you.

Read chapter eleven here!

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( i hate myself for hurting the babies so much.. please come scream at me

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[doki-doki-imagines]

hi! maybe a little self indulgent but was wondering if you could write a lil drabble of earthrealm gang x yn (fem y/n if possible) but she’s related to shang tsung in some way (idk sister, daughter if u wanna get real silly) and shes just as pretty but just as mean :3c ty!

author note: In some the reader is the sister in others the daughter. Going for hcs for my mental health :)

Do you like what I write? Consider tipping on my ko-fi!

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't completely trust you, even if damn, you are hot. -Like he can't resist flirting with you even if it means getting the harshest rejection ever. -At this point, it is a challenge more than anything else. Once one of your failed potions exploded right into his face while he was blabbering one of his cheesy pickup lines. "You are smoking." "Hot?" "No, just smoking." You reply, pinching a strand of hair still on fire, extinguishing it. -You know 99% of boys stop flirting just before getting a date? Johnny's positive mindset won't let him fall for this trap. -Maybe you'll fall for his loserboy behavior…

Kenshi Takahashi: -Mh the ex-yakuza doesn't trust you one bit. Even if you never betrayed them. -It's just that you like lying a bit too much for his liking. -"I'll keep an eye on you." You chuckle "What eye? I don't see any on your face." You shrug his words off. -Nobody has ever been blacklisted this fast in Kenshi's mind. -But for real, he'll keep your every step checked ready to attack at any of your missteps. -"If you like spying on me so much you could take me out on a date so I can answer all your questions." You hear him choking on his saliva before snapping back. "How do you know I'm spying on you?" Your eyes widened getting closer to him "So I was right? You are spying on me? Damn, you must be so down bad for me-" -The idea of falling one of Wu Shi mountains sounds so good now for Kenshi. "Come pick me up at 9 p.m. and take me to a nice place it has been so long since I've eaten something nice." -Seems like Kenshi has a new problem to deal with. -Also because Madame Bo is the only place nearby…

Kung Lao: -He doesn't trust you at all, your mother may have been a nice woman but your father is terrible! And with your sharp words, Lao thinks you have taken his personality too. -"Begone sorcerer! My hat will slice you in two if you take another step closer." "I'm sure my words have done more damage than that stupid hat." -Actually, a friendship will develop thanks to your constant fights, not always won by you. -Raiden better if you stay alert, you have two sly foxes in the temple now

Raiden: -He isn't as wary as the others, after all you haven't done anything wrong. Being born from such an evil guy doesn't make you evil. -But damn, you can be so harsh with him at times. More than once Raiden wanted to remind you that if it wasn't for him you would be homeless and a loser just like your father. -But then Raiden remembers it's actually thanks to Liu Kang if you are there and bites his tongue. -You are also one of the few people able to make Raiden snap! Most monks never saw such fury before he met you. -"You should thank me. Weak minds don't last much in battle." "If you expect me to thank you for pissing me off you'll have to wait your entire lifetime, snotty sorcerer."

Liu Kang: -When he created this new timeline he hoped a sister could tone down Shang Tsung's evil intentions. -But at the end he threw you away, treating you like a stepping stone to the road to achieve his goal. -So Liu Kang took you in. That doesn't mean you will so easily forgive him for his mistake. -Your words slice his heart frequently. Not because you want to cry about your condition, it's mostly your fault after all, but simply because you like to tease that raw nerve that awakens a usually hidden side of him. -"Shut your mouth or I'll seal your lips forever!" "Ohhh-" you coo at his words "But then how I'll latch my lips at your throat? You seemed to like it yesterday." You say, pressing a finger on the spot where the hickey should be, already recovered thanks to his godly nature. -Liu Kang stomps his right foot on the ground before running out from your lab. How he can love you so much and despise you at the same time is something he still has to wrap his head around.

Geras: -A saint. You may tease, joke, just be nasty and Geras will reply with the calmest voice ever. -Liu Kang told him to make you feel at home and Geras takes his job seriously. -You nagged him a lot about the hourglass, making you take a small peak at it but he never let you close. -"You are too serious Geras, loosen up a little." "It's to compensate for your lack of rules." -You still have to warm up to each other…

Bi-Han: -He doesn't like you. AT ALL. -Bi-Han looks at you with a face dripping with scorn. Even if you are taller than him, he'll make you feel like an ant. -If you tease him too much he'll snap back and won't keep himself from hitting you. -But if you stroke his ego, promising him strength and glory… -As your brother told you "If you want men to do what you want stroke their ego and they will be at your feet." -He also did an analogy comparing the ego to a di- Okay I think the point is clear.

Kuai Liang: -He doesn't trust you, but if Liu Kang decided to keep you with them he won't oppose his decision. -Liang will often ask to train with you, mostly to test your skill level and eventually prepare for a future betrayal. -Also your lab will be often spied, checking if your experiments are safe and good for Earthrealm. -Till one day Liang found a small card on your desk "Train better your men, I could tell someone sneaked in the first time. Shirai Ryu won't last long otherwise." -He tightens the grip on the card, rolling it up before throwing it on the ground. -Liang was the only one that has been spying on you…

Tomas Vrbada: -He doesn't trust you immediately but he is one of the few to give you a chance. -Tomas won't be like a dog, following you around and completely trusting you, but he'll be one to bring you a hot beverage in cold winters when you are alone in your lab. -He answers wittily to your words and rarely he gets dejected. -"I suppose you won't survive in the Lin Kueis if you had a weak mind or if you are simply an idiot…" You whisper out, Tomas' ears catching your words anyway. "…You thought I was an idiot?" -You'd like to reply "Why the paste tense? I still do." but you decide to bite your tongue. You don't mind his company after all.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

prologue

she stirred awake with a grumble, as she does most days—which is immediately replaced with a grin after ten minutes of simply opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. another day, another number of various things she can do. and so, she wasted no time to freshen herself up.

as she stepped out on the streets of grosvenor square, her immediate touch brought radiance to the place. no, she was not a smiling fool nor was she greeting everyone. it was not that type of radiance. she hated that. yet, one can argue the opposite when she finally arrived at the bridgerton's house.

"'tis a fine day, is it not?"

"raine!"

the girl jumped up, her book forgotten as she put it on the couch and hugged the girl who's standing with open arms under the arch to their drawing room.

"oh, how i have missed you, eloise!"

"why do you both act like you were not together the entirety of yesterday?" colin voiced out as he read the newspaper, not bothering with any greetings. they have all long passed that. eloise sent a glare to her brother just as their mother arrived.

"loraine, darling!" she took the young lady's cheeks in delight, "how are you and your father?"

she smiled warmly at that. violet took it to herself to act as her mother-figure, given that their families were closely tied, "never been better, lady bridgerton."

the older woman gave her a look at the use of her title before leading her to a couch near the fireplace.

"are you well-prepared for tomorrow's start of the season?"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"are you well-prepared for tomorrow's start of the season?

violet smiled as she asked her second-eldest daughter. eloise is well-prepared, she knew, in terms of physical and material aspects. internally, however, her daughter was having a fit, both of nervousness and fury.

"mama, i am very much prepared, but you should know that i am calling for all miracles right now so that i cannot attend tomorrow."

raine laughed, saying it's a good thing she's much prepared at the very least. her friend turned to her with a look of betrayal.

"you will be this next year, and i thought we're gonna be spinsters together!"

"no, that was penelope." she said as she stood up and dusted her dress, "when my season comes, i would very much like to marry, especially to that man dabbling on his pad."

she gestured with a head tilt to the man sitting near colin. they all need not turn to know who she was referring to as eloise rolled her eyes. raine chuckled at her reaction before another voice graced the room. well, not exactly grace.

"ugh, it's too early to deal with you."

violet turned to her eldest and immediately closed her eyes with a sigh before giving him a pointed look.

"anthony, it's already nine, and don't be rude."

the young lady turned to the source of the voice and grinned in an instant, clasping both her hands together in chest level sweetly, "i have missed you so much, anthony!"

"i don't share the sentiment." he replied with nonchalance as he took a biscuit and sat by his younger brothers.

"anthony will be marrying this season."

she paused for a moment, as if processing, before she broke out with laughter as she heard the words marry and anthony in the same sentence, but noticing the silence around her, she turned back to violet, "no... seriously?"

"why does it come as a surprise to everyone?" the man in question grumbled. raine finds herself nearing the eldest.

"but why the sudden change?"

anthony sighed as he swallowed the biscuit on his hand, "it probably has not come to your little mind that this family needs a viscountess. a viscountess is a lady that—"

"shush," he's lucky that's the only thing he got from her, given that she is to become a viscountess herself next year and he was mansplaining. she looked up in glee and clasped her hands again with true joy this time, "oh, i'm going to have so much fun this season!"

violet thinks that anthony and raine is a great pair and she would have been pushing for it already, had raine not been in love with benedict.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"as much as i love you, lady bridgerton, i do not want to talk about anything with relation to my societal season and marriages."

kate and anthony entered the room, just in time for the debutante's antics. the matriarch sighed at the apparent lack of interest from the girl, while the latter broke into the widest grin.

"i would, however, welcome the conversation if i'm paired with benedict."

she turned to her other side where lies the subject, both of the topic and her affections, "speaking of which, will you marry me now, ben?"

the second-eldest son did not open his eyes from the sleepless nap he was having as a boyish smile made its way to his lips, "not a chance."

"ah, what a shame." she smiled at the sight of him before turning back to his mother with a clap, "well, there's always tomorrow."

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 11)

Contains: detailed smut, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, praising, possessiveness, inappropriate behaviour between uncle and niece, power imbalance

Wordcount: ~3.29k

Masterlist of this story

The next day you woke up and with joy noticed that the pain in your belly had fully vanished and you felt filled with energy. You were still bleeding and it was uncomfortable but compared to the sorrow yesterday, it was a relief.

While your handmaiden Nysah took care of your hair you had time to let your thoughts fly and of course they immediately clung to Daemon. You couldn’t help but smile and quickly tried to supress it so your handmaiden, who you had a very friendly relationship with, wouldn’t ask any questions. Daemon had been so soft and kind to you. He had genuinly wanted to make you feel better and you felt butterflies in your stomach. They way he had watched you… You had seen something in his eyes, he had cared and had been looking out for you. You saw in the mirror that your cheeks were bright red and at this point Nysah just had to ask.

"Princess. Are you quite alright? You’re face is glowing." You nodded and tried to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes. I’m fine, Nysah."

She frowned but nodded while braiding your hair. "Are you feeling better? I can tell Hewett to bring you a tea." You quickly shook your head.

"That’s not necessary. I’m fine."

Your handmaiden sighed and pulled at a strand of your silver hair. "What are you always doing in the night that makes your hair so messy? I always put your hair up before you go to sleep and yet it is so tousled."

You had known Nysah since you were born and she was a bit like a mother to you. She had taught you how to read, told you goodnight stories and had comforted you when you had fought with your sister. So you never felt like she was your servant but rather like she was a person of trust or protector.

"I’m sorry. I don’t know why they are that way.", you lied and nibbled at your thumb nail.

"Stop that, Princess.", Nysah immediately said and softly pulled your hand away. "You’re ruining your appearance if you do that." She sighed. "Well. You’re done, you can go have breakfast." You nodded and smiled at her and then quickly left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

You were walking through the corridor with a little nervousness in your belly. You were just eating your meal when a king’s guard had entered the room and told you that your father wanted to see you. You had quickly finished your meal and now followed the knight to the King’s chambers. You had a strong idea what this meeting was about and yet you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about what he would say to you. What if he had changed his mind?

The knight opened the door and announced your presence and then you entered the room. The rising sun lit up the room and you saw your father behind a table, leaning over it to read a piece of parchment.

"Ah. Daughter, yes. Come here." You walked towards him and Viserys gestured you to take a seat. "I have something to discuss with you."

"Of course, father. What is it?"

He sighed and sat down as well. "It concerns your betrothal with Jorlan Stark and I believe you will welcome these news partly." You frowned and pretended to think.

"The betrothal is ended. You will not marry the boy." You widened your eyes and looked at your father questioning, doing your best to act like this was new to you.

"But why?"

"You don’t have to pretend like you are not happy, Vhaela. I know that you weren’t thrilled by this. Well…"

And then your father told you what Daemon had already done except the part about the fact that this betrothal realistically couldn’t happen. You frowned, looked surprised at the right moments and then in the end crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Mhmm.", you made. "I guess… I mean Braavos is very far away…"

"I know. And it would give me great pain to send you away, but perhaps it won’t get this far. And if it does I will make sure to send my best and bravest soldiers with you to protect you. It is hard, but as the protecter of the realm I can’t let my heart control my mind. I have to think strategically."

You nodded but tried to look a little sad. It hurt you so much to lie to your father like that but you knew you didn’t have a choice.

"Forgive me, daughter, but you have to excuse me now. I need to talk to Daemon and prepare him for his travels." You abruptly turned your head and glared at your father. "What travels?"

Viserys grabbed a piece of parchment and folded it. "He’s going to Storm’s End. He is to negotiate with Lord Orwen Baratheon to sort out what is gonna happen to Evenfall Hall after the rebellion against the Tarths. Their house is weakened and I need him to consult with the Baratheons and make sure they establish a new head of the Tarths that won’t get overthrown by these criminals again."

You slowly nodded but felt miserable. He would leave? Again?

"But why Daemon? Why are you not sending your hand?"

Viserys sighed. "Daemon has proved himself surprisingly obedient and loyal to the crown the last couple of months. I want to trust him with a bigger mission to see if he will act with responsibility and a clear head." You nodded again but felt a little numb. "It probably won’t take long. He will go on Caraxes and I believe they will figure it out within a week. Excuse me now."

~~~~~~~~~~

You spend the next week most of the time feeling bored. You strolled through the gardens, spent time with your sister but couldn’t really feel fully happy. When you were alone you daydreamed about your uncle. You missed him terribly and wondered if he also thought about you sometimes. He simply always seemed like the didn’t care about anything. Of course you knew that to some extend he did care about you but you still had this image of him being carefree, fiery and without fear or contemplation. You missed him so much that it hurt in your stomach. Ever since he had left there was something new living inside you, a demon that had wrapped its hand around your heart and squeezed it. It didn’t let you breathe freely and you felt like only Daemon could remove it. You tried to act happy and normal in front of your sister and your father but deep down you just wanted to close your eyes and open them again when Daemon was back in King’s Landing.

And after 8 days and 8 nights of suffering, it was finally time. You heard about it in the morrow while drinking a tea in the dining room with your sister and father.

"Your Grace. Lord Orwen has sent a raven from Storm’s End." Your heart jumped and you grabbed your cup tightly. You knew that nothing had happened to him, you simply knew. It was Daemon, one of the strongest and most fierce fighters in the seven kingdoms. You couldn’t imagine that any knight could possible have a chance against him in a battle.

"The negotiations are finished. Daemon is set to return before noon." Joy and happiness flooded your system and you had to surpress the wide smile on your face. You couldn’t remember feeling ever so carefree and light. He would return today. You would see him today. The whole morning you felt so full of adrenaline and literally jumped through the corridors. You had to be careful not to seem too happy so you would awake suspicion in Rhaenyra or the King but it was hard to hide your feelings.

And then, shortly after noon, you first heard and then saw it while you were unpaitenly sitting in the gardens.

"Dragon!", someone shouted and you looked up to the sky. There he was. You could only see Caraxes from far away but your insides fluttered. You quickly made your way to the Dragonpit. You ran as fastly as you could, didn’t care about your shoes or the hem of your dress that would get dirty. You ran and then found yourself standing on the grass, looking up to the sky. Caraxes landed elegantly and you saw Daemon, looking like an angel in his armour. There was no sight of Rhaenyra and your father, perhaps they were on their way to the pit right now.

Daemon took off his helmet and smirked smugly at you. Then he climbed off his dragon and walked calmly towards you. You, on the other hand couldn’t act so relaxed so you ran to him and jumped in his arms. Your sister and father weren’t here and you knew that the dragonkeeper didn’t care whether you hugged your uncle for a second or an hour. So you tightly hugged him, crossed your legs behind him and buried your face in his neck. Daemon chuckled and wrapped his arms around your back.

"Little owl.", he said against your hair and held you up to his chest. You knew that your clothes would get dirty because he was covered in dirt and mud but you couldn’t care less. After a while Daemon brought you back to your feet and grinned down at you. "That’s a very pleasing welcoming." You smiled and wished that he would look at you like this forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, it was late in the afternoon, you sat in the gardens with your sister, your father and Daemon and ate cake. Daemon told about his time at Storm’s End and you had a smile on your face that couldn’t be wiped off. Your father was seemingly pleased with how his brother had acted and negotiated and seemed relaxed as well.

Then, after another hour the King left to attend a meeting with his hand and the three of your remained in the gardens.

"Uncle.", Rhaenyra suddenly smiled. "Would you like and come see the new Dragon saddle I have for Syrax? It is made of fine meereesian leather."

Your uncle slightly glared at you and you held your breath. You craved some time with him alone and now nervously wished he would be able to make it.

"Another time, yes, niece. But please excuse me for a little while. I need to rest for a bit."

Rhaenyra gulped and didn’t look delighted but nodded. "Yes. I understand."

You unconsciously bit your lip and hoped you weren’t completely off and Daemon didn’t actually wanted to be alone right now. But with one look at you, you were almost certain about what he had on his mind.

And yes, minutes later you were pressed against the wall in his chambers and his mouth devoured your neck. "I fucking missed you, little owl.", he growled and his teeth slightly pulled at your soft skin. You moaned unsatisfied because you just wanted more of him.

"Please, Daemon. Please I need you.", you whined. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and you clung to him breathing heavily. Daemon was fast, wild and impatient. Your dress was half – pulled down revealing the base of your breast and his mouth savoured your skin while his hands pressed your shoulder against the wall. When it wasn’t enough he pulled your dress further down until your hardened nipples were exposed to the air. They looked so seductive and Daemon wrapped his mouth around your left.

"Mhmm.", you wailed. After a while he moved to your right nipple while his hand took care of your left breast. He stroke your skin, massaged it while nibbing at your nipple. It drove you crazy and you wrapped your arms around his neck to make him do more.

Daemon was torn apart between diving his head between your legs to get a taste of your sweet cunt, tease and edge you and eventually get you to release for him and wasting no time and fuck you. His cock was throbbing for your hole, he was eager to insert himself inside you but licking you sounded tempting as well. In the end his cock won, though. He was rock hard against his abdomen and couldn’t wait any longer. He had to feel you around him, feel your walls clench, the warmth of you….

So Daemon kissed you on your mouth again while swiftly lifting your skirts and pulling down his trousers. Once he had removed both your undergarments he stroke his cock a few times and looked at you with flashing eyes. You bit your lip in anticipation of what was to happen now. Daemon hastily ran his tip over your wet slit and then inserted himself in you. You both moaned and you grabbed his shoulder to support yourself.

"Argh.", you whined feeling so full by his thick cock. He moved one of his arms under your arse to hold you up while his other grabbed your face and caressed your cheek.

"Look at me.", he growled when he saw your eyes fluttering and you quickly forced yourself to open your eyes again.

"You are mine, little one. You were fucking made for him. This body is mine. To do with as I please." You clenched around him at his filthy words and his thrusts were quick, hard, forceful. His tip hit deep inside you over and over again and you already knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this and in the morrow. His hips slammed against you and you almost couldn’t keep up with his pace. You breathed heavily and just tried to keep your eyes open while getting fucked hard against the wall. His lips found yours again and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Touch yourself.", Daemon hissed. "On your pearl. If you want to release."

Even though your body felt so weak already you obeyed him and reached between your bodies. You managed to find the little nub and started to slowly circle it just like Daemon always did. You had never done this before but simply did what felt good to you. And it did, together with the stimulation you received every time Daemon hit that spot inside of you, you soon felt yourself being driven closer to the edge.

But then your uncle suddenly stopped slamming inside you and carried you away from the wall. His arms wrapped tightly around your back, knowing that you probably were too tired and powerless to cling to him and he laid you down on his bed. You expected him to crawl over you and continue to take you but instead Daemon grabbed your hips and manhandled you on your stomach.

"Get on your knees and hands.", he breathlessly spoke and you after you had done it, Daemon pulled you a little closer to the edge of the bed and then thrusted into you from behind, him still standing on the ground. It was a whole new feeling and you felt him even deeper. He managed to reach an area that he hadn’t been able to before and you sighed loudly.

"Oh, yes. Daemon." He took hold of your hips and moved them according to his deep pushes so they met his thrusts. He groaned loudly and threw his head back. Your walls were truly magical to him. They stimulated his cock so well and you felt so… warm and wet. Perfect for him.

Then one of his hands wandered to your lower back and he gently pushed you down on the bed. Your chest now touched the bed and you rested the side of your face on it as well. His hand wandered to the back of your head and Daemon excerted a little bit of force and pressed you into the mattress. Your moans were suppressed by it now and Daemon held you like this for a while until he moved his hand to cup your breasts. You remained like this, resting your head on the bed and felt your body move against the sheets because of his powerful thrusts and then you suddenly felt a sharp pain on your ass. Daemon had slapped your ass and then ran his hand over your skin.

"Oh, little owl. I’ll fill you up so well. I’ll fill you with my seed until it’s gonna leak out of you." Then his hand roughly grabbed your wrists and he moved it between your legs.

"Come on, I told you this already. Touch yourself if you care about releasing. I won’t wait for you.", Daemon growled and you did as he had told you. Your finger rubbed your pearl and you felt even more pleasure washing over you. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppier, messier and faster. Daemon was so close to shooting his seed right into you.

"Fuck.", he hissed and his fingers painfully dug into your hips. You increased the pace of your finger on your little pearl even more and felt pleasure running through your body. Then you suddenly clenched around Daemon and the tension released all over your body.

"Argh.", you cried out and your head weaklessly laid on the bed. Feeling your walls tighten around his cock had been the last straw for Daemon and he loudly moaned while releasing inside of you.

"Seven hells.", he sighed. "Such a good little whore you are for me.", he smirked and got close behind you to whisper against your ear. You blushed at his filthy words and smiled against the bedsheets. Then he suddenly yanked back your hair and you were pulled on your hands and knees again. He kissed your neck and gave your ass a soft slap.

"Mhmm… this cunt of yours. A fucking dream." Then he let go of your hair and you turned around to lay on your back. You watched him while he put his shirt back on and playfully shifted on his bed.

"Can I stay here tonight?", you asked with a teasing smile and Daemon couldn’t hide his smirk.

"Sure.", he spoke. "As if I would throw my precious niece out of my chambers at such a late hour." You both knew that you acted riskily and dangerously but you felt like you were on a cloud right now and everything else except Daemon didn’t feel important while Daemon naturally just didn’t care about worrying about things. He trusted that it would go fine and if it didn’t he’d had to think of something to fix it. He didn’t waste his time being frightful of what might happen and act with responsibilty so he just crawled onto his bed and you laid on your side and pressed your still undressed body against him. He gently wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer and toyed with the strands of hair that fell into your face.

It didn’t take long until he heard that you had fallen asleep and Daemon closed his eyes as well. Soon, he also felt his mind drift away but after what felt like a few seconds he woke up again. You were steadily breathing against his chest and Daemon was happy you could get some sleep at least.

After a while he knew that he needed to get some fresh air, just go on a quick stroll and then he might become tired and would be able to sleep. So he carefully removed your arm that had been laying on his chest from him and then quietly got up. He walked to the door, opened it and then headed towards the gardens.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Poisoned out of Love

A giggle followed by shushing sounds had Sirius mentally preparing himself for whatever mess the troublesome duo had made this time. It was a shame that Remus was still out cold from yesterday’s full moon.

“Are you sure this is the right recipe?” Harry asked, no doubt with his hands on his hips—something he picked up from Remus. “It smells funny.”

“That’s the whole point, Harry,” Draco said with so much sass that it had Sirius snickering behind his hand the closer he got to the kitchen. “Poison is supposed to stink.”

Poison?

“What’s going on here?” Sirius demanded as he rounded the corner and came to a standstill at the sheer disaster that replaced what used to be a clean kitchen.

“Nothing,” they said in unison, innocent eyes blinking up at him. Yeah, that quit working on him years ago.

“That might have been believable if you didn’t have dirt on your chin, Draco. And Harry you have something slimy on an ear.”

Instead of cleaning off themselves, they cleaned each other. Sirius tried to remain strong and firm, but his heart melted when Harry gently wiped Draco’s chin.

When Draco grinned—a front tooth missing—and giggled as he wiped whatever the hell Harry managed to get on his ear, Sirius was pretty sure his heart exploded.

They were too cute.

“What is this I hear about poison?”

As expected, Harry rubbed his shoe into the floor, contrite and already apologetic. Also expected was the way Draco stomped his foot and crossed his arms.

“I’m not sorry!”

“I know you aren’t, Draco. You never are,” Sirius sighed, coming closer to the table. He blinked rapidly when he realized the ‘cauldron’ they used was actually the dog bowl.

“What’s in this?” Sirius wrinkled his nose at the smell. He probably should have asked better questions or scolded them properly like Remus would have, but where was the fun in that?

“Poop.”

“Milk.”

Sirius closed his eyes before placing his head in his hands. “I’m not even going to ask. What possessed you to want to create this monstrosity?”

When Harry opened his mouth, Draco turned to him angrily.

“No, don’t tell him! If you tell him then he won’t let us poison McMillan.”

McMillan? He couldn’t remember what their kid looked like, but as far as he knew McMillan was their classmate in Magical Care for the Youth.

“I’m not going to let you poison McMillan at all.”

Another foot stamp had him huffing a laugh as he debated on whether it would be rude to vanish their ‘potion’.

He knew better, he really did, but he still asked, “And what did McMillan do that deserves a good poisoning?”

“He made Harry cry!” Draco said, hand slamming on the table. “That’s not okay. No one gets to make him cry.”

That little snot nosed brat made Harry cry? How dare he.

“Carry on then.”

Harry and Draco barely began to cheer when a disappointed, “Sirius, really?”

Sirius turned around; hands raised as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Save it,” Remus waved a hand as he made his way to a chair and collapsed down. “I knew something was wrong when those two went quiet. It’s never a good sign.”

Two outraged, “Hey!”

“But Moony, he made Harry cry! My little baby cried!”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Sometimes parents say that,” Draco said solemnly. “My father says that every time I dress up for galas.”

“You are adorable in your dress robes,” Sirius agreed, cringing at the fact that he agreed with Lucius on anything.

“What about me?” Harry pouted. “Am I cute?”

Before they could respond, Draco nodded rapidly, hair falling into his face. “The cutest!”

Harry blushed, twirling a little at the praise. How come he never did that when Sirius praised him?

“Yes, you are both cute,” Remus said, eyes closed and head resting on the table. Sirius ran a hand down his back, rubbing out any knots that he could find. “But not cute enough to get away with poison.”

“Aww, not fair!” Harry pouted.

“If I could cite my sources on why we should be allowed to, can I then poison him?”

Remus lifted his head, brows raised and reluctantly intrigued. “What kind of sources?”

“No,” Sirius laughed, for once feeling like the adult that he pretended to be. “No poisoning him. How about we settle for a strongly worded letter to his parents?”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t approve.”

Sirius took a deep breath. Why couldn’t Harry have come home best friends with another child?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he deadpanned. “Now, let’s clean this up and get ready for our monthly fun day.”

Draco and Harry gasped, rushing around the kitchen to put everything away.

“Ice cream!”

“Pizza!”

“Movie!”

They continued to shout until everything was clean and they dragged Remus to the couch. Every month on the day after the full moon, they all squeezed onto one couch and indulged on all of Remus’ favorite things in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Sirius, you’re my favorite cousin.”

“What do you want, brat?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, hating that his chest puffed out at being Draco’s favorite.

“Can we watch a scary movie?”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “The last time we did that you refused to go home for a solid week. As much as I love you, you don’t live here.”

Draco blushed, face heating up as he admitted, “That’s because Harry is my comfort pillow.”

Sirius saw the way Remus melted at that, and he was right there with him.

“Do we have anything pressing this week?” Remus asked, already giving in much to the enjoyment of Draco and Harry who were jumping up and down.

“No, and I don’t think Narcissa will mind as Lucius has business in France.”

“He doesn’t have business,” Draco argued, nose wrinkling. “Father has no job.”

Sirius snorted, ignoring the elbow in his side from Remus.

“Alright, we can watch a scary movie.”

“And I can stay for two weeks?” Draco asked, innocent eyes that were never innocent blinked up at him.

“One week.” Sirius couldn’t believe that he was negotiating with a child.

“Three weeks.”

Remus laughed, waving away Sirius’ glare as he continued to laugh.

“One and a half,” Sirius countered.

Draco made a considering noise, one finger on his chin as he thought about it. “Deal, but I get to bunk with Harry.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to separate you two.”

“Come on Draco,” Harry pulled on his friend’s hand. “Let’s go get the drinks.”

The sound of excited talking, little giggles and laughter echoed back to them, and it filled Sirius with warmth.

“We’ve got good kids.”

There was a time when he would have argued that they only had one kid, but now there was nothing to it.

They had two kids, and they were pretty perfect if he did say so himself.

Poisoning and all.

[octuscle]

Hi, im a 19 yo nerd, yesterday some kids wre playing with a soccer ball in front of my house, the ball got into the garden of my house and when i threw it out, i didnt nlticed i threw it a bit far and it arrived into the house across the street, breaking a window, the neighbor, a single man, came to my house and told my parents what i did, he demands i repair the window by myself, i dont know how to do that, can you give me a little help?

First of all, you do what you do best. You sit down at your computer. Enter "repair soccer window" into Google. A lot of things come up that won't help you at all. Care tips for footballs. And advertisements for household contents and liability insurance. The soccer care thing doesn't look very helpful, but it might be interesting.

Shit, you can waste a lot of time on the Internet very quickly. After half an hour, you're back to the current and upcoming match day in the Premier League. But you still don't know anything about repairing windows. "Repairing windows". Perhaps it would help to remove soccer from the search query. It doesn't matter why the window is broken. It just needs to be repaired.

Now we're getting closer to the point. Lots of tutorials on youtube. Surely there's something there. Unfortunately, you don't even know what kind of window is broken. And what exactly is broken. Damn, just how many different types of window panes there are. You can find an article about German windows. They have a lot of damn cool features. I wonder if that would be a market to sell and install German ones here. What this tilt function is supposed to do is still not clear to you. But these shutters on the windows are hot shit. You'd like to install something like that at your parents' house.

You're guaranteed not to install something from Schüco for a few thousand dollars in your neighbor's house… You're assuming that your neighbor will have vertical sliding windows in most of the rooms, just like you do. Probably made of aluminum. A shame, really. Horizontal sliding windows made of wood with glazing bars would fit the character of the house much better.

Haven't you ever worked for your neighbor? You must still have plans and views from the street side. Or at least a photo. Yes, here. Where were you standing again? How hard did you throw the ball? What was the wind like? Just because you did an apprenticeship as a carpenter doesn't mean you're stupid. So it's probably the window of the study on the second floor. Yes, it must have been rotten, you can see that quite clearly in the photo. Just replacing the glass won't help much.

Nowadays, working on the computer is half the battle. Calculating material requirements, programming saws for cutting. And downloading some porn in between. Hehehe, unlike your father, you don't need to hang up raunchy calendars in the workshop anymore. Your father is hardly ever seen here anyway. It's no longer his world. In his day, a carpenter needed a hammer and a saw, he used to say. Old man, those days are long gone.

Before you start, you went to your neighbor's house across the street. Real life is sometimes more reliable than virtual life. But it was the right window, you measured it again with your laser measuring device. You had miscalculated by a few millimeters. You are a craftsman with passion and dedication. You don't mess around. You deliver precision work.

"Mr. T, better than before my throw," you say with a grin. But it's the pure truth. But you know exactly why your neighbor insisted that you carry out the repair. He'll do anything to get you to fix things in his house. And when no more chairs tip over and no more doors squeak, you'll take care of Mr. T. yourself.

He asks if you can have a look at the shower after the window. While you take off your dungarees, you say that you are a carpenter and not a plumber. You will probably need help. You don't have to ask Mr. T for long.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Three

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Mothers and daughters?? Fathers and sons?!?

Word Count: ~4k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 23, 1970

You’ve been stuck in your own mind all day. It's decided to shut down like a panic room and you can see Angus try to crack it open with his attempts at small talk. Mary and Mr. Hunham share uncomfortable glances at each other, slightly humored about the quiet lunch they are having that would usually be filled by chatter from you two.

Angus leans in close to your ear, “You said we would talk today.”

“After this,” you murmur, sinking into the wooden chair.

“If this is about yesterday, it was just a weird moment, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Stop talking,” you say as nicely as you can when you see Mary's eyebrow quirk up at Angus’s comment.

“I have a surprise,” Mr. Hunham suddenly announces. Your eyes snap to him, embracing the distraction. He brings out a platter full of Christmas cookies and places them on the table. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with both of you.”

Angus is unimpressed and by the way he is scowling, he's upset too. “Look at them. Look at all the festive shapes. Snowflakes and gingerbread men. A tree. A little mitten,” Mr. Hunham picks up the red and white frosted cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Mister. This is really nice,” You reach for the snowflake. You’re not sure how well sloppy joe and sugar will settle in your stomach but you're willing to gamble on it. Mr. Hunham gives you a thin smile.

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?” Angus asks, already pushing away his dish and getting up from his chair.

“You may,” he sighs, watching the boy walk away.

“Well, I’m trying,” he says to the group, defeated.

You give him a weak grin, “These are good cookies though. If that means anything to you.”

Mary chuckles at your exchange. Mr. Hunham gets up and goes the same direction Angus had exited. Your eyes follow him until it is impossible for you to see him without breaking your neck. You turn to Mary who is close to finishing her cigarette. She blows the smoke away from your direction and pushes the packet towards you.

“Want one?”

“Oh. No thanks. That's Angus’s thing.”

“Alright. But don’t go asking for one later.”

“I won’t,” you laugh quietly. You hear voices in the hallway get louder. Angus shouts something you can’t make out and Mr. Hunham's response follows shortly after. Their noise fades away and you rub your tired eyes to snap you awake. You never could get enough sleep. You swear you could sleep for twenty-four hours and still feel groggy.

“What's going on with you two?” Mary asks.

“Angus and I?”

“No. You and the ghost that haunts the infirmary,” she took a sip of her coffee while shaking her head in amusement.

“My mother says I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. I don’t know if you want to hear the details,” you warn.

“Give me the reader's digest,” she pats the seat next to her. Bringing your coca-cola with you, you go cross over to her side of the table. “Okay. Tell me if you think I’m crazy-”

“I will.”

“-But Angus has been acting so weird. One second, he's all moody, a regular Holden Claufield, and the next he’s nice and being the Angus I’ve known all my life. I don’t know… Maybe he’s at the stage where his feelings swing around like a pendulum.”

“That's all-teenagers sweethearts. Even at adulthood, that pendulum never stops swinging. At some point it may slow down only for a gust of wind to return it into motion.”

“I mean he’s always been a little short-tempered, just never towards me. Yesterday,” you wonder if you are getting too personal now, “he called me selfish.”

“Selfish? The girl that just scarfed down a cookie to make an old man feel better.”

You shrug. You never knew how to take compliments. “I know I should just ask him what's really going on, but I don’t want him to blow up on me again.”

“If he does come to me. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “What do you think happened out there?” You tilt you heard towards the doors.

“Their usual bickering. That boy is probably paying the price for cursing Hunham out right now.”

“How long have you known Mr. Hunham?”

She paused before answering, “A while now.”

“Has he always been this… strong-willed?”

“Stubborn as a mule you mean? Yes, he has. Although the years have certainly hardened him more.”

“Why’s that?"

“Not sure. He’s a private man. I haven’t been able to pry anything out of him.”

“Not even when he’s,” you make your hand into a fist, extending the pink and thumb. You move it back and forth to mimic drinking from a bottle.

Mary cackles. “Not even then.”

…

The stupidest thing Angus had done was what he had done to you yesterday. He doesn’t know why he said it, why he had called you selfish. It just tumbled out. It was like he was a man possessed. But launching off a springboard in the gym in an act of rebellion was a close second.

He numbed the pain thinking of you. Granted if you were here, you would be lecturing him non-stop and telling him how he should have known better. But at least you would have been here, and he wouldn’t have to watch Mr. Hunham marinate in his misery. At least you would have been there to hold his hand as they popped his arm back into its socket.

Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble the last few days, it had been helpful in getting them out of the hospital insurance issue. And it was about to get him a free burger now too.

They had arrived at the local watering hole. It was jam packed with people getting tipsy with beer. He could hear the clink of billiards and the white noise on the TV.

“I think I’ll start with a beer. How about you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully. Get your cheeseburger.”

“They’ve got Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunham said, but Angus could tell he was just trying to amuse him.

Angus shut the menu as their waitress came up the stairs to their little booth. “Okay, you ready to order? Oh!” she gasped as she turned to his teacher.

“Miss Crane,” Hunham touched his chest, “As I live and breathe. What-, what are you doing here?”

“Oh hi guys! Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Miss Crane explained.

It looked as if Mr. Hunham had been snapped awake, “Well, um, this is Mr. Tully,” he motioned his hand towards him.”

“Sure, I know you and your little girlfriend. You two are always glued together like gum on a pole,” Miss Crane said teasingly.

“Y/n L/n," he beamed, "she goes to the girl's school and we’re just friends. But um, we met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet,” he smiled as innocently as he could.

“I didn’t know about the wrongly part,” she shares a laugh with Hunham.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger,” he orders for Angus.

“And a Miller High Life please,” Angus adds quickly.

“Uh. No you will not,” Hunham says sternly.

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane?”

“Well, like they say, it’s the Champagne of Beers.”

Angus turns to Hunham, “And she’s a professional.”

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane waits for him to fill the blank.

He relents and orders reluctantly, “And a Coke.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham smiled.

“Two cheeseburgers,” she jots down the order on her notepad

“And a Jim Beam. On the rocks. Please.”

“Okay, you got it guys,” She smiles at them before exiting. Paul watches her go and Angus grins at the scene.

“Ouch. You two have chemistry,” he shakes his hand like he had touched a hot plate.

“Okay. That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham dismisses.

“I don’t know. Seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive,” he hopes his teacher will take the bait.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

Angus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, may I at least go to the bathroom? Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?”

They have a stare off before he runs off to the back of the restaurant. Angus scours any leftover change in his back pocket of his jeans. He finds enough to make a call. He scans the room, making sure that Mr. Hunham isn’t hunting him down like last time. He dials the number to the Barton infirmary and hopes you are lounging in your room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chants under his breath. Instead he gets the dial tone. He curses and slams the phone back to its original place.

…

You haven’t seen Angus since the morning. You've been spending all afternoon with Mary instead. You helped with the lunch dishes and are preparing the potatoes for supper later. Mary had a radio in the kitchen which you happily hummed to. Christmas music flooded your ears and reminded you of the holiday. In the halls of Barton there were no decorations, and one could probably convince a kid that the Grinch had stolen them in the dead of night.

“Mary, I'm done,” you proudly show her the bowl of potatoes. In your house most of the cooking was done by private chefs who came in and out so irregularly that you could never learn their names. Understandably, they didn’t have time to entertain a ten-year-olds insistent questions about what it meant to julienne a vegetable.

“Great. Why don’t you start boiling them and get started on chopping those mushrooms.”

“Okay,” you add water to a pot before adding the chomped potato. You find the mushrooms and cut them as thinly as you can. After you place them on the counter next to Mary who has already prepared everything else.

You admire as she adds them to a pan of melted butter. She drops salt, pepper, Italian dressing and other spices you can’t name, without even having to use measuring tools. “You’re Julia Child!” You praise.

“Just years of practice.”

“Hey, when do I get to sauté and mix things?” You get on your tiptoes to get a better look at the mushrooms turning a dark brown.

“When I know you won’t hurt yourself doing it,” she gave a pointed look at the bandaids on your fingers. You may have cut yourself in your first attempts at handling a knife. You hide the hand behind your back. “Sorry.”

You go to sit in a stool by the oven. You open a borrowed copy of a Kerouac book that Angus had in his suitcase. The Subterraneans, written in three days apparently and no offense to Jack but it shows. Mary notices your squinting as you go try to make sense of the writing, inching your face closer and closer to the paper.

“Are you planning to do something with that? The books.” Mary stops her stirring and lowers the heat of the stove. She walks over to you and glances at pages.

“What? Like with writing?” You ask, “I’m not sure. I know I should have figured it out by now but I just never got one of those woosh moments,” you sway your hands in the air.

“Woosh moment?”

“It's like what we talked about with the pendulum. I feel like I've been hanging still and waiting for the wind to send me on my way. I wait for it to push me with the strength of a tornado. Woosh. Almost to flood me with a feeling of knowing? I’m not the best at words…” you trail off.

“You're telling me nothing interests you?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, a lot of things do. I want to do everything. Right now, for example, I feel like becoming a renowned chef,” you pick up a random bowl and start stirring it slowly.

“Try learning how to handle a knife right first,” she tuts.

“Practice makes perfect Mary,” you smile and look down into the chocolate substance you were messing with. “Cake or brownies?”

“Neither actually. It's more doughy than liquid honey,” she lectures you kindly.

“Right,” you say sheepishly, “I swear I’m smarter when it comes to other things. You should see me in civics class.”

“I believe you,” she winks, “Now get to preheating the oven, Betty Crocker.”

…

Angus goes off to play a game on the Pinball machine and to take his mind off you. It certainly helps him. Avoiding the prospect of getting beat up by locals and injuring another part of his body allows him to momentarily forget the stress he feels when he remembers how pissed you are at him.

Mr. Hunham and Angus eat their burgers quickly. To repay Mr. Hunham for saving his ass, Angus keeps his mouth shut every time he orders a Jim Beam. They leave after Hunham drops a rather generous tip for Miss Crane.

They're walking towards Hunhams car and Angus can’t resist the urge to ask, “Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Hey. Catch,” he tosses his keys at Angus, who catches them on instinct.

“How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. No, they go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not."

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Were you ever in the military?” Angus’s curiosity peaked.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Mr. Hunham pointed at his eye, as if to say obviously. He tries to unlock the door of the driver's side to no avail. He points towards Angus,“I have to get in through there. Anyways, they made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

Angus opens the door, handing the keys off as Mr. Hunham slides in. He catches a whiff of Mr. Hunham unmentioned scent.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“You smell,” he states bluntly and Mr. Hunham deflates. Angus joins him inside the Nova, “Like fish. And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus frowns.

“Trimethylaminuria. Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And, uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.

“Wow. Your whole life? No wonder you’re afraid of women,” he concludes.

“I am not afraid of women,” Hunham says, clearly offended. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience,” Angus exhales.

“Who’s Dr. Gertler?’’

“My shrink,” Angus wants to disappear.

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a swift kick in the ass?”

Angus figures he ought to level the playing field. “Okay, all right, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure. Just one thing.

“Just one?”

Angus nods and he probably should be offended that he is taking an awful long time to say anything.

“You’re obtuse about your social relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed mean?”

“You didn’t say I had to elaborate Mr. Tully.”

“Okay well now I want you to. Spit it out.”

“No,” he backs out of his parking spot and hits the road.

“Come on! Explain,” Angus tugs on Hunhams jacket.

“I hope you don’t plan to pester me all the way to Barton. It'll be an awfully long ride.”

He presses down harder on the gas pedal.

…

You had burned the cookies. Not that you could tell when you took a bite of it. The cocoa had disguised it and you had just finished patting your back when you had to spit the whole thing out into the sink. Mary relishes your misery and apologizes through her laughs, wiping the tears in the corner of her eyes.

So your two-course meal had been reduced to just an entree. After thirty minutes of searching and waiting on Angus and Mr. Hunham, you ladies decided to leave the capacious mess hall and have a TV dinner. If your mother could see you now you were sure she would have you arrested by the etiquette police.

Mary was flipping through the channels to tune in to her daily rewatch of the Newlywed Game. You stopped her suddenly, your hand on top of hers to stop her from operating the remote.

“Cactus Flower! I love this movie. Please can we watch it?” You beg, clasping and shaking your hands together.

“What’s it about?” She asks hesitantly, clearly wary about abandoning her favorite program.

“You’ll love it! Ingrid Berman has to pretend to be her boss's wife because he lied to his lover about being married and having kids and shit-,”

“Language.”

“-Sorry. And so now he has to pull off this big con, so she won’t leave his lying as-, butt,” you correct yourself. “Goldie Hawn is sooo good in this. She won an Oscar I think.”

“I supposed I could give it a try. If it bores me we are switching right back though.”

“Deal,” you giggle and scoot the plate balancing on your lap closer so you can dig in.

For the next hour, Mary seems content in watching the characters in the movie ignore and miscommunicate their feelings. Even shaking her head when they do something she finds ridiculous. Your eyes get heavy as the ending nears, your stomach warm and content with the meal you had and the glare of the television tiring your vision. You lean your head back into the couch cushion and close your eyelids. Distantly you hear Ingrid Berman and Walter Matthau confess their love before your world goes dark.

Slumped against Mary, you wake up for the second time that week by the same hands. Angus is shaking your shoulder gently. Your gaze falls immediately to the sling his arm is in.

“Angus! What the hell?” You whisper- shout, fixing your posture and wiping the potential drool off your face. You check to make sure you didn’t wake up Mary.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures. “It’s not broken, or anything just dislocated.”

“What happened?’’ Your arm trails down from where the sling starts to where his hand hangs lazily out. "Is this why you weren’t at dinner tonight? Hunham too?”

“Uh yeah. I jumped off a springboard in the new gym,” he answers bashfully.

“Wow… you are so stupid sometimes.”

“I prefer spontaneous thank you,” he sits down next to you on the couch and lets out a sigh. Using his good arm, he lifts a plastic bag. “We went out to eat and I got you something.”

“Ooh,” You snatch the bag and open it as quietly as you can without crinkling the plastic. Inside the Styrofoam box there's a half-eaten burger with some cold fries. You snack on it anyway offering some to Angus who shakes his head.

“Mr. Hunham thought buying another would be wasteful. He assumed you and Mary would have probably eaten by then so I saved what I could.”

“We did and,” you motion to the plates, “I helped cook it!”

“Really?” Angus's eyes widened, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I saved you some cookies,” You pick up the dish of the burnt dessert. You have brought them over believing you had been exaggerating the taste.

You hadn't.

He takes one, clueless, and bites almost half the cookie off. You see him wince but still he continues to chew. He chokes it down and nods, “Not bad?”

“You’re such a liar,” you shove his head lightly. “I forgot to turn on the timer.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he takes your confession as his cue to spit the rest out into a nearby napkin.

“Thanks for this though,” you take a bite of the burger, “I had forgotten what fast food tasted like.”

“Don’t tell him I let you have it. Or that you saw me in fact. The whole arm thing is supposed to be secret.”

“Got it,” you extended your pinky for him to intertwine. He takes it but doesn’t remove his pinky after, instead he lets your connected hands fall between the both of you.

The TV is still on, except the volume is lower and an old black-and-white movie is on. You finish the burger and put the trash aside to throw away in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Hunham now?”

“Crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“So you want to talk now?” You look up at him.

“Umm, somewhere private though. Incase Mary wakes up,” he gets up, still connected to you by your fingers and pulls you alongside him. You pick up a discarded blanket along with you

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

He walks you two out of the staff common room and you let him take the lead. Barton is cold even without all the large windows closed. It’s like walking through a haunted mansion, passing by old dusty trophy cases and pictures of past alumni. When you enter what you recognize to be the auditorium, thanks to the plaque next to the door, Angus strolls you two over to the stage. You sit on the piano bench and when he joins you, you cover him with your blanket.

You hear Angus let out a shaky breath and then see the winter air turn it into a small cloud of smoke.

Angus starts to speak, a tremble in his voice, “You’re the only person who thinks of me first know? Even when we were little, and we had a free pass to be totally self-centered you still never-. Like in middle school when you’d give me biology answers, or just now with the blanket! I have a jacket! I should be giving you the entire blanket. In fact, let me give you -, your just-.”

“It’s alright Angus,” you stop his rapid rambling, holding his face between your hands. “I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he chuckles, trying to divert his gaze but the soft hold you have on him keeps him still.

“I forgave you the second you walked in looking like a kicked puppy.”

He laughs at your words.

“Although I just want to ask what has been going on with you? I know you hate school and you're not incredibly fond of Stanely marrying your mom, but I feel like something has been bothering you. Something big.”

“I need to go to Boston Y/n,” he admits, hitting some random piano keys. The notes echo around the room.

“Okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “why?”

“It's snowing outside but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. But my dad, he would make it feel that way. So I need to see him and my mom had promised but you see how that turned out.”

“Oh Angus. This is why you kept bringing it up,” you gasp. “Jesus. And I had called you stupid, I’m the dense one for not connecting the dots.”

“No no. You’re not. I was being evasive. I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would have stolen Jason Smith's car keys had I known! We could be there by now, eating Clam Chowder by the bay. ”

“Nuh-uh. You’re way too of a goody-two shoe for that.”

“Well I would have followed you. Given an hour's notice, of course, to build my confidence.”

“I don't know,” Angus hits a few more keys, “Maybe this was fate like you said. It definitely didn’t deal me a cruel hand having me holdover here with you.”

“Yeah, the universe was certainly on our side for this one,” you move closer to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Hey, you think you can still play even with only one working hand?”

“I’m willing to try it,” he stretches his fingers, “What shall I serenade you with?”

“Something Beach Boys. In My Room?”

“You got it L/n.”

He plays much slower and his jaw is sharp, fully determined to get through the song for your enjoyment. He plays so gracefully you don’t even notice when he slips on occasion. You don’t mind it. It’s almost as sweet as a lullaby.

[faggot-vampire-dies-epicly]

Love me in spite

Summary: In the dimly lit corridors of a warehouse, Vanessa seeks solace for the haunting memories of her father's legacy—animatronics that once brought joy, now concealed in the shadows. As the newly hired security guard, you find yourself drawn into Vanessa's world, your professional duty transforming into a deeply personal connection. | Words: 3.072K

Warnings: References of child death, murder, trauma, references of manipulation and coercion, references of stabbing, hurt/comfort, some fluff, kissing. Fem!reader.

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long, writing is way harder than I remembered. I still don't know if I did well, so if you have any advice or compliments or even criticism you can comment. I promise to be quicker with the other releases. Title's from Out like a light by The Honeysticks.

Main Masterlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

After months of job hunting and sending resumes, you were starting to lose hope. You had applied to any possible position just to pay the bills, but still, nothing came of it. 

The day you finally contemplated just giving up, the phone rang. Stunned, you had answered to find a woman on the other end offering a job - night guard at a warehouse. You had never wanted to work in a warehouse, let alone as a night guard, but you were desperate, and the thought of having a salary seemed heavenly, even if the pay was narrowing the minimum wage.

You agreed with the woman to meet the next day at the warehouse and hung up.

The next day you showed up at the warehouse and found a police car parked outside. You frowned, confused as why would a police car be in a place like this. The warehouse's door opened, and a police woman stepped out of the building. Her gaze met yours and she smiled, “are you Y/N?”

Your heart fluttered, her voice was soft and sweet. You nodded and she gestured at you to follow her.

“My name's Vanessa. Vanessa Shelly. I was the one who called yesterday,” she explained as she guided you around the building. You arrived at a room where animal looking robots were standing on a makeshift stage.

“The job is simple, the shift starts at midnight and finishes at six. All you have to do is stay awake, keep an eye on these guys,” Vanessa said, pointing at them, “and of course, make sure no one gets in.”

You stared at the curious looking robots, you had never seen anything like them before. “What are these?”

Vanessa grinned, “animatronics. They were used for children's birthday parties back in the 80s.”

You hummed, getting closer to them to see them better. “How come they're in a place like this?”

Vanessa shifted, a little uncomfortable and sighed, “well, I suppose the owner brought them here for a good reason. It's not part of our job to ask those questions.” She shrugged nonchalantly, you stayed silent.

She stared at you for a moment, “come, I'm going to show you your office.”

“How come you are the one hiring me and not the owner?” You asked, entering the office with her. She hummed. It looked like she didn’t like being asked too much questions.

“Well, let’s say I owe the owner a favor,” she spun around, facing you. “This is your office.” 

You looked around the room, it had just a few things. A bunch of monitors with the security cameras footage, a desk and a chair. 

“Cozy,” you murmured and Vanessa chuckled, making your heart skip a beat. You could feel heat crippling from your neck to your face.

She cleared her throat, “Well, that’s basically it. Remember, no sleeping,” she warned. “Hope you have a good first night,” she turned to you, extending her hand and you shook it. She smiled at you one last time and then left the building.

You had stood there, heart beating wildly in your chest. It looked like it was going to be harder than you initially thought.

It had been weeks since that first encounter and you had grown accustomed to her presence. She would sometimes show up to bring you food or coffee, and sometimes even just to check on you.

After the first night with the animatronics, she had called you to check up on you and you had frantically asked why those things moved. She sighed, explaining everything to you. From the disappearances of the kids in 1985, to where the bodies where.

You had been horrified, and she offered to just pay the night, saying you didn’t need to come back again if you didn’t want to. But you stayed, “I need the money after all,” you told her, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Why did you want to hire someone instead of leaving them here?” You had asked Vanessa, one of the times she had shown up to bring you food. She sighed, lowering her gaze, “I… I don’t want the kids to be alone. I wanted someone to check on them. I know, it’s stupid.”

You hummed. “I don’t think it’s stupid, I guess it��s kind of sweet?” You said, chuckling. She smiled. 

“Does the owner know?” You asked absentmindedly as you checked the cameras, Foxy was still in his cave, and Bonnie was beginning to move. “Know what?” She asked, her voice cautious. 

“Does he know what’s inside the suits?” 

She shivered, her expression dropping. She looked uncomfortable, frightened. You frowned at her silence, turning to look at her. “What's wrong?” 

She realized she had to tell you everything. And she did.

She told you about her dad, how he had forced her to help him with his crimes, even when she was a child. “He said he was doing bad things to other kids so he wouldn’t do them to me,” she whispered, teary eyed and a knot formed on your throat. 

She told about what happened the last time he tried to harm someone, how a guy named Mike and his little sister, Abby, had saved her after her father had stabbed her. She told you she had spent weeks in the hospital, slipping in and out of a coma. How relieved she felt he wasn’t here to manipulate and harm her anymore, how guilty she felt for that relief. How grateful she was of Mike and Abby, who had understood her, and helped her when she believed no one else could.

And you felt for her. You felt her pain, her relief, her gratefulness. You felt angry, too. At her father for being a horrible person, at the world for leaving her on her own to deal with all this trauma. How did no one ever realize something was wrong?

You hugged her, and Vanessa, sobbing, returned the hug.

After that, you only grew closer.

She would visit more often, smile more, and worry about you. You couldn’t stop noticing the lightness on your chest whenever you thought of her, the way the blood rushed to your cheeks when she touched you absentmindedly as she told you about her day, or how she got closer when she told you something she was excited about. You didn’t know when it started, you just knew it was too late to prevent your feelings from invading your mind and senses.

It didn’t feel like a burden to you, though. You were ecstatic. Every day you were more excited to go to work, you wanted to see her, hear her, be close to her. You didn’t know if she felt the same, but you didn’t expect it either. You knew she still had a lot of things to sort out, and you didn’t want to become one of those things and give her more trouble than what you were worth. You were more than happy being just her friend.

It was a day like any other when Vanessa arrived at the warehouse, unannounced. She opened the door to your office and stood there,keeping a strong grip on the doorknob, looking at you before she had the courage to step in. 

You were in your chair, reading. The animatronics hadn’t been active that night, and you took advantage of that to finally start a book Mike had sent to you as a “welcome gift” as he and Vanessa had put it. You didn’t lift your gaze from the pages, choosing to tease her first. “What can I help you with, officer?” You said, amused.

She swallowed, looking at the floor before looking back at you, a few seconds passed in silence before she gathered the courage to speak. “He's back,” she whispered, her grip on the doorknob becoming stronger. 

Confused, you lowered the book before straightening up on the chair, “who’s back?”

Vanessa sighed, letting go of the doorknob and making her way to your desk, her head low and shoulders slumped. She slowly sat on the edge of the desk without answering your question. Your heart immediately sank.

“Vanessa,” you reached for her hand, “who’s back?”

Vanessa closed her eyes, breathing shakily while squeezing your hand. “My dad. He’s… he’s alive,” she took a sharp breath, “he’s alive and he’s looking for me. For this place.” 

She swallowed. "You need to run away from this place. From me."

You quickly stood up from your seat, grabbing her shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “Vanessa, look at me, okay? Breathe, take a deep breath with me." 

You guided her hand to your chest so she could feel you inhaling and exhaling.

She shook her head, agitated and retired her hand. ”He’ll come. He'll find you. He always does,” she said desperately, tears slowly spilling from her eyes.

She looked so fragile, so small. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her, maybe give her a kiss or two, but you scrapped that thought quickly, aware that this wasn't a good moment to yearn for that kind of contact. “How did you find out?” You asked. She shook her head again, “ it doesn’t matter.”

“Hey, look at me,” you cupped her face with your hands, her green eyes met yours and she relaxed slightly, her breath starting to calm down. "Nothing is gonna happen to me, alright?"

You slowly brushed away the tears with your thumbs and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. You whispered reassuring words to her, as her grip on your shirt eased. But her calmness didn't last long.

"You don't know that for sure." She answered, opening her eyes, her voice still wobbly. 

Vanessa had a pleading look in her eyes that said “please listen to me, please take my advice.” 

You sighed. “Vanessa…” 

There was no way in hell you were going to escape and leave her behind. You just couldn’t.

Her hands started smoothing out the wrinkles she had left on your shirt with her grip, “I know you need the job, but please. This isn't worth risking your safety.”

You frowned. “So you're just going to deal with him on your own?” 

Vanessa tried looking away, but you stopped her, gently placing your fingers under her chin, turning her face towards you and looking into her eyes. You smiled, trying to comfort her.

"You don't have to confront him alone anymore. You have me and Mike by your side."

Vanessa sighed, looking down, “with you, it's different.” Her voice was barely a reluctant whisper, and you had to lean in to catch it.

Vanessa pressed her face against the space between your neck and your shoulder, finding solace in the comfort of your embrace. She held onto you, desperate for warmth, for understanding. You wanted to give her that.

"Vanessa," you whispered. She raised her head, meeting your gaze. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, her eyes glazed and vacant. Your heart ached at the defeated look she gave you, Vanessa had always seemed so strong to you, it was the first time you had seen her act this timid and vulnerable.

“I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to simply leave you behind to save myself. I'm not like that, and you know it.” She let out a soft whine, muttering something about you “being impossible” as she tried to pull away from your touch, but you didn't let her.

“I care about you, Vanny. I really do,” you said softly. Her eyes widened at the nickname.

“I know,” she said, not looking at you, she couldn’t meet your gaze. “But that doesn't change anything. He's still looking for me. He's going to find this place, and you with it, and I won't be able to stop him.” Her bottom lip quivered and she finally pulled away from your warmth.

“I… I just, I just can't let you get hurt for my sake, I wouldn't forgive myself.” She bit her bottom lip, worried. You wanted to look at the beautiful green eyes you had grown to love and tell her she didn't have to worry about you, but she kept avoiding your gaze, wrapping her arms around herself.

You reached out to her again, but she drew away from your hands. “I can take him on by myself,” she offered, giving you a weak and sad smile. “You shouldn't become a part of this.”

“But I already am!” Your voice sounded desperate, you couldn't believe she would rather confront her father on her own than by your side. “Please, Vanessa, you are important to me–”

“You're important to me, too! That's why I want you safe!” Her sudden outburst left you speechless.

“You– you came into my life like a ray of sunshine, dissipating the shadows obscuring my heart and I just can't stand the thought of him hurting you.” 

Her voice broke, tears threatening to spill from her eyes and down her face again. You were shocked, your heart skipped several times and for a moment you thought you were hallucinating.

“You're just so… perfect,” she sniffed, blushing and looked away. You felt your face heat up as you blushed as well.

Your trembling hands reached out for her again, gently cupping her cheeks and she didn't push you away this time. 

She finally met your gaze, eyes wide and shiny. She focused on every detail of your face. “You fill me with a warmth I thought I would never experience,” she mumbled and you felt like swooning. “I’ve felt cold and alone for so long, but your presence is something that warms my heart and my soul. When I'm with you I feel alive.”

Her words and the look of utter adoration she was giving you felt overwhelming.

“Vanessa–” you began to say before she interrupted you. “I think that I… that I'm in love with you,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

You felt like all the air from your lungs disappeared, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. At your silence, she opened her eyes and noticed your shock. She tried to pull away again, giving you an apologetic look, but you spoke before she could.

“I'm… I like you a lot,” you said, breathless. “I've wanted to tell you how I feel, how I've always felt since the moment I first saw you at this warehouse.”

She shuddered, eyes watering again. You let out an incredulous chuckle, “please don't cry, I don't want our first kiss to taste like tears.”

She chuckled and closed her eyes. You smiled and leaned in, pressing your lips against hers. Her lips were soft and warm, and you felt time slow down as you took all in, from her sweet words to her gentle touch. Vanessa tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss, pressing her lips to yours harder. Her fingers traveled from your shirt to your hair, pulling softly at your strands while one of yours stayed on her cheek and the other found the small of her back.

You pulled her closer and felt her hum against your mouth, and you knew you had to pull away before you got too lost into her. When you did, you felt her breath against your lips and it took every ounce of strength in you to not kiss her again.

You pressed your foreheads together as you tried to process everything. Her voice took you out of your thoughts, “this is the most cliché thing I've ever done,” she murmured and you laughed.

She pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, a small smile on her lips. “I never thought I would be here kissing you and telling you–” she cut herself off, red as a beet, “you know what.”

You smiled back at her, finding her blush extremely endearing. “I know.”

You let a few seconds pass in silence, “so, are you still going to tell me to run away and leave you? Because if you weren't going to convince me before, you definitely won't convince me now.”

Her smile wavered a little. “I… As much as I want this… I don't know if there's any hope for us.”

You stroked her cheeks tenderly with your fingers, humming softly. “I have hope. I can hope for the both of us until you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.”

"I don't think I'll ever see the light at the end of this tunnel," she whispered quietly, "I always thought that I'd leave this world with nothing but my fears and regrets. That I would be buried and forgotten, taking my father's sins to the grave.”

Vanessa looked away, "I've spent the past all my life hiding from the world." There was sadness and resignation in her tone, and you wished you could take all that away. "I don't want you to carry my burdens, too.”

“Maybe I can't do much, but I can always offer a shoulder for you to lean on. I can always offer you my comfort. I'll always be here for you. We can get out of this, Vanny. Together.”

Her green eyes met yours, and she blushed again. This time, she gave you a small smile, her eyes sparkling with something you couldn't quite decipher. 

“Together.”

You nodded and took one of her hands.  raising it to your lips, you pressed a tender kiss on the back.

She stayed with you until your shift was over, and you slowly made your way out of the building between kisses and giggles. 

The morning air was cold and crisp, but her fingers curled around yours made you feel warm. She pressed one last quick, tender kiss on your mouth before getting in her patrol car, promising she would call you later and then finally drove away. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world as you watched her car disappear in the distance.

Of course, you were worried about what would happen once her father found the warehouse. Of what would happen and what would you two have to do to avoid disaster and/or getting hurt. All the possibilities flooding your mind. But when you felt Vanessa embrace you tightly, you also knew that as long as you had her by your side, you felt like you could take on the world.

A/N: Reblogs are appreciated.

[syndrossi]

The Daemon/Laena marriage discussion in the last chapter has me thinking about Jon and Rhaegar being big brothers to itty bitty Baela and Rhaena 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Rhaegar finally having younger siblings to love without the need to protect them from Aerys 🥺 Happy about being named twinsies with his littlest sister and spoiling her rotten 🥰 Helping Rhaena overcome her natural shyness and not letting her get overshadowed in this ridiculous family (unless she wants to, and then he shows her how to use that to her advantage)

Jon giving Baela his old clothes and taking her down to the training yard, and when someone (coughs, Cole, coughs) tries starting shit about this Very Obvious Princess in too-big trousers starts doing warm up exercises with a wooden sword, Jon's like "oh this is just my new squire Bael, don't worry about it." Using his status to get Baela the training she wants, how he could never do that for Arya 🥺

The four of them being all grown up and having inside jokes together 🥺 Baela volunteering for the dangerous mission of routing Rhaegar from the library. Rhaena and Rhaegar both answering when someone starts to say "Rhae—" . The three of them calling Jon "Lord Commander" when he's being bossy (not that the girls know about his past life, just that they copy Rhaegar doing it 😂)

Both of them would enjoy having Laena as a stepmother better than any other options I think. She's fiery and light-hearted and cares deeply for her loved ones. And obviously she gets extra points for having Vhagar (rip to Aemond's increasing rivalry with Jon, who now gets to be up close to the biggest dragon on the regular)

Also lol at Daemon being the father of two sets of twins. He's the most efficient father in the whole family 😂

Awwww I love all of these! Especially them all being older and knowing exactly how to manage each other, and all of their individual dynamics. (Baela and Jon butt heads a lot, but are also thick as thieves. Baela adores Rhaegar and loves dragging him and Rhaena into mischief. Rhaena being thrilled whenever Jon can be talked into courtly intrigue because he can be so deliciously, unexpectedly catty, and enjoying quiet moments with Rhaegar, when they need a break from their exuberant twins.)

I've been going back and forth lately on whether Daemon will marry Laena. My original plan was "no," and Laena would have her twins in another marriage, given the very different priorities between her and Daemon. (Daemon's...just not that interested in marriage now, with all the upheaval he's just experienced. Unlike in canon at this point, he has two sons, and Rhaenyra's not available, and his top priority is keeping the twins safe. Whereas Laena needs to get married yesterday for her family's sake.) But the twins having twins sisters is so hard to give up. I might write up my waffling in a separate post lol.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl

A Christmas chapter - Part 2**

Happy Christmas from Jackson!

Frankie Morales x F!Reader in The Last of Us Warnings: Listen, it's TLoU, expect canon levels of violence and gory details as always. Word count: 10k

The others let Frankie sleep undisturbed the whole night but Ben wakes you up for the final shift and you carefully wiggle out of the sleeping bag. In the big foyer the horses are snoozing, your own big gray mare waking up as you give her a quick scratch. Outside the restaurant, the eastern sky is beginning to lighten, dawn is only an hour away, and it’s all quiet.. Benny’s left the coffee pot simmering on the camping stove so you help yourself to some of the bitter liquid, at least it’s warm. 

The door behind you opens just as you finish the last of your cup, and you glance over your shoulder. Joel’s shrugging into his big coat and doing it up, giving you a silent nod as greeting. 

“Morning,” you say, “There’s some coffee if you want it.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, sinking down on the bench next to the stove. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

“The older I get, the less I seem to sleep,” he grumbles, pouring the coffee into his well worn travel mug. “And I never sleep well out on patrol, can’t relax, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you nod and scan the landscape around you. You’ve got your back to the restaurant and Joel, the rifle resting in your hands. Joel doesn’t say anything more and you let the short conversation die. 

You’ve known Joel for many years now, not counting that one fourth of July weekend that feels surreal now, not even three months before the outbreak. But the difficult years in Boston when Joel was a different man compared to now, you knew him well then, saw how he’d changed after the death of his daughter. He’d scared you then, for his influence on Frankie, how close he was to violence and how easily he seemed to bring the worst out in your husband. When Tommy had first arrived in Jackson, you’d been terrified that Joel would follow. You’d told both Tommy and Maria you didn’t want him in Jackson, that he was a threat to your family, you’d even told Joel you didn’t want him there when he did show up with Ellie in tow. But three years have passed since then and these days he’s one of your best patrol partners. 

You sit down on the bench next to him and yawn. 

“Go back to bed and get some more sleep,” he says, “I’ll keep watch for now.” 

“No, it’s fine, we need to wake the other soon. See if Frankie’s strong enough to ride today.” 

Joel only grunts in response but you look over at him. 

“Thank you for coming with me yesterday,” you say, “I know I kinda put you in a tough spot, but I really appreciate your help.” 

“You’d do the same for me if it was Ellie,” he shrugs, “no big deal. Although you need to watch that habit of rushing in,” he gives you a pointed look, “I know Will trained you better than that.” 

“Yeah, I know, he’d be pissed if he knew, so would Frankie. But when it’s Frankie…” you trail off and Joel nods. 

“I know, I’d lose my cool too if it was Ellie,” he replies, downing the rest of his coffee and refilling your cup and then his own. 

“I never told you, Joel,” you say, glancing over at him, “but you were right when you said you’d changed when you came to Jackson. You know I was worried about having you in Jackson, but you proved me wrong.”  

Joel grunts again in reply, but you see the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth and it makes you smile in return. He may be a changed man, but emotions are not Joel Miller’s strong suit. 

“Thanks,” he finally says, “I guess I have more to lose now is all.” 

You almost baulk at his confession, but you bite back your surprise. You’ve all seen the influence Ellie has on Joel and guessed that his new found relationship as her father has brought about the changes. But to hear him all but come out and say it, that’s a first. 

So instead of poking the bear, you just nod and sip your coffee again as the sun begins to rise over the eastern hills. Joel doesn’t offer anything more and together you enjoy the silence. 

Eventually you hear the others stir inside, so you excuse yourself and go check on Frankie. He’s just waking up as you kneel by the sleeping bag. The color has returned to his face and he pulls you down to the sleeping bag as he yawns. 

“Morning, Frankie,” you say as he hugs you tight and buries his nose in your hair. 

“Morning, cariño,” he mumbles, yawning again. 

“You look better, how are you feeling?” 

“Leg was killing me all night, didn’t get much sleep,” he mutters as you push yourself up and take a look at him. He’s got dark rings under his eyes and he looks tired, but when you unzip the sleeping bag and check on his leg it looks good. 

“I’ll get Will to take a look, but I think he managed to stave off any infection at least,” you say, gently prodding his thigh. 

“Yeah, that alcohol burned good enough,” Frankie grimaces as he pulls himself up to sit, “But I feel better, less woozy.” 

“I’ll get you some more water and breakfast,” you say, giving the top of his head a kiss, wrinkling your nose at the six day old sweat smell, “Frankie, baby, you stink,” you giggle and he gives your ass a swat as he grumbles. 

“You can give me a sponge bath when we get home, cariño.” 

You give him another kiss and join Tommy by the camping stoves. He’s got breakfast cooking, heating up a basic stew and rice that smells nice despite the bland color of the food. Everyone's gathering around in various degrees of morning mood, Benny mumbles ‘Morning’ with a wide yawn as he tries to tame his wild bed head with a cap. Will helps you bring over food and water for Frankie and then checks his leg and other injuries. 

“It’s up to you, Fish. If you think you can handle the pain and sit on a horse for a few hours, I say we can get you home, but it’s not going to be comfortable and you’ll probably open up the wound again.” 

“I don’t wanna risk staying out here another day,” Frankie replies, carefully trying to flex his leg and wincing with pain, “I can handle it.” 

“What if we make a travois?” you ask, “He can lie on it and not disturb his leg but if something happens and we have to run, we can quickly cut it loose and get Frankie on a horse.” 

Frankie nods while Will, in his usual manner, considers the pros and cons for a few seconds before he agrees. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. There’s a few saplings behind the hotel we can use for the frame,” Will replied, “I’m sure Joel and Tommy can put something together easily. I’ll go talk to them.” 

“Thanks, Will,” you call after him as he leaves to get the travois started. 

The day is bright and clear, the way it always seems to be after a storm, and the plains between the mountains is a sparkling white canvas that almost hurts your eyes as the sun bounces off the fresh snow. The travois was put together quickly by Joel and Tommy who seemed to jump on the project with almost hyper energetic enjoyment. It was easy to imagine them working on building something together before the outbreak, Joel taking charge and giving orders to Tommy back then in the same way he did now, instructing him how to make the best knot and Tommy snapping back that he knew how to make a fucking lashing knot. 

The travois was now attached to your saddle, your horse the one most used to pulling things. And she hadn’t even flinched when it was attached and Frankie was helped down on to it. His leg was propped up and he was covered by a couple of sleeping bags to keep him warm. When you glanced back, he seemed to be dozing off as the sleigh gently moved over the thick snow. 

You’d been worried that you’d encounter more trouble on the way back, but instead you meet up with the rest of the group that Will, Benny and Tommy had left at the Willard’s Rest. It’s a big party that finally returns to Jackson, approaching the large gate and the guards up on the walls. 

Will leaves you as soon as you get through the gate, steering his horse up towards Gunnar’s wife’s house towards the back of town. He’d known Gunnar best and had volunteered to bring his wife the bad news. His body was being brought to the small morgue by Tommy and Benny. You and Joel continued on to the clinic with Frankie still on the travois, but as you glanced over your shoulder at Will, your heart clenched. It could just as easily have been Frankie being taken to the morgue and Will walking with heavy steps towards your house to deliver the devastating news. A shiver ran through your body and you had to turn and look down at Frankie just to make sure he was still safe behind you. He was awake now, wincing slightly as the sleigh passed over the less soft surface of Jackson’s Main Street. 

Diana comes out from the clinic as soon as she hears the horses and is all business as she sees Frankie. In no time she has him brought inside as you and Joel tie up the horses. 

“Yvette, tell Ana to take a look at Joel’s arm and clean up any cuts and then join me with Frankie in exam room one.” 

You follow Will’s wife into the room behind the gurney she’d got Frankie onto. He’s awake but looks cold and in pain. 

“What mess did you get yourself into this time, Fish?” she asks as she unwraps the sleeping bag from around his legs.

“Managed to get myself shot, but Will got the bullet out last night and cleaned the wound,” he winces as she peels back the bandage that Will had applied. It’s stained with blood but Diana looks pleased as she inspects the wound. 

“It looks good, no signs of infection. It’s too far gone to stitch up but I’ll just clean it out again and put a fresh dressing on it. I’ll send you home with some and if you need help changing them I’ll stop by after work. Just keep it dry and change it if it gets wet.” 

You’d sat down on the chair by the wall as Diana got to work, but Frankie looks over at you and gives you a tired smile as he puts out his hand for you. 

“C’mere, cariño,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist as you come to stand next to the gurney, “You ‘n Jack gonna take care of me white I’m laid up in bed?” he asks, giving your side a soft squeeze. 

“I guess we have no choice,” you say, giving him a mock sigh and eye roll, as if taking care of him is the most annoying thing in the world, and Frankie chuckles. 

“Don’t let him use this as an excuse to not move around,” Diana says with a smile, “He needs to move around to help the wound to heal. Easy at first as it closes up but after that he should be walking a little bit every day. I’ll get you a walking stick, Frankie.” 

“Yes, doctor Miller,” Frankie replies, just as you hear commotion from outside the door. The next thing you know, the door bangs open and Jack comes crashing through. 

“Dad!” he yells, his blue eyes wide and scared as he sees Frankie on the table, the bloody bandage on the table, but Frankie quickly puts up his hands and waves Jack over. 

“It’s fine, Jackie, I’m fine. Come here, give me a hug, kid.” 

Jack all but hurls himself into his dad’s arms and wraps his arms around his neck. The boy the two of you had adopted after his mother was killed by slavers was almost fourteen now and growing up quickly. He was, unfortunately, used to the harshness of the world you all lived in, but he wasn’t immune to the same fears you all felt when loved ones left the safety of Jackson. Now he buried his face in Frankie’s neck and sobbed as you bent down and wrapped your arms around both of them. 

Diana gently taped down the last corner of Frankie’s dressing and then stepped outside, giving your small family some privacy. 

“It’s ok, Jack,” Frankie mumbles into the boy’s hair, “it’s ok, we’re back now and I’m fine, I’m safe and your mama is safe too.”

He's rubbing soft circles over Jack’s back, letting him cry as much as he needs. You both knew Jack would’ve held all his emotions and fears bottled up while you were both away, it was the kind of person he was. Not until you were all safe would he let himself admit how scared he really was. 

You press soft kisses to every part of Jack’s head you can reach, hugging both him and Frankie tight as Frankie wraps his free arm around you too, holding you both close. And eventually Jack’s sobs calms down and he begins to breathe easier, sniffling into Frankie’s plaid shirt. 

“It’s ok, Jack,” Frankie soothes him, “Diana will clean me up and then we’ll go home and you and your mama can start spoiling me. I want tacos for dinner, and a pie for dessert, and then I want you to read me a bedtime story and then I want a sponge bath.” 

As Frankie continues to count off one request after the other, Jack begins to giggle, still sniffing, but you can see his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as Frankie demands Reese's peanut butter cups and a private driver for a gold plated wheelchair. 

“I’m not pushing the wheelchair,” he finally says, smiling a little as he stands up and hugs you too. 

“I’ll push it,” you say, hugging him back, “I’ll get it from Diana and see if she’ll let us leave now.” 

As Frankie continues to comfort and calm Jack, you go in search of Diana. She gives Frankie the all clear and you borrow the clinic’s wheelchair. Luckily Will shows up just as you’re leaving, and after checking in on Diana, he takes over and pushes Frankie home through the snow with you and Jack in tow. 

“Thanks, Will,” you say as he helps Frankie up the stairs and into the house. It’s cold and dark and Jack gets the fire going as Frankie sinks down on the couch with a deep sigh. 

“Yeah, thanks, man, for everything,” Frankie echos, giving Jack a glance. He’s got his back to the room and doesn’t seem to be listening but Frankie chooses not to say anything more about what had happened at the resort. 

“Anytime, Fish, you know that,” Will replies, giving you both a wave, “Let us know if you need anything, ok? Diana will come by tomorrow to check on you.” 

Will leaves and you get started on some dinner while Jack tends the fire and keeps Frankie company. It doesn’t take him long to come into the kitchen though. 

“Dad’s asleep on the couch,” he says, “He said to wake him up for dinner.” 

“Ok, thanks, Jack,” you reply as he comes over and stands next to you at the counter where you’re peeling some of the stored winter carrots. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“The stew from last week, and some roasted veggies,” you say and he nods, absentmindedly, picking up one of the carrot peels and flipping it back and forth. 

“You wanna help out? I need to peel some potatoes.” 

Jack agrees to tackle the potatoes, and together you prepare the dinner and plan how you’re best going to help Frankie get around the house. You know Jack will come to you or Frankie and talk about what’s just happened when he’s ready. But for now, he’s just processing on his own, and you try your best to keep his mind away from the events of the past few days. 

You make a tray for Frankie once everything is done and bring it into the living room where he’s still on the couch, snoring lightly with his bad leg propped up on some pillows. Setting the tray down on the coffee table you lean over and kiss his forehead. He sleeps lightly, always has, and stirs straight away, his hand coming up and grabbing your arm. 

“Dinner’s ready, baby,” you mumble, “How are you feeling?” 

He nods and yawns while he rubs a hand over his face, “Thanks, cariño. Better, but, damn, I’m tired.” 

“Just eat and then I’ll help you upstairs and into bed,” you reply, putting some extra pillows behind his back as he sits up. 

“You promised me a sponge bath,” he smirks, his eyes still tired, but you see the glint of mischief in them and you giggle as he pulls you down to sit next to him. 

“I think you might need an actual sponge bath first, and then we leave the “sponge bath” for tomorrow,” you tease him, “I could smell you in the kitchen.” 

“Whatever happened to ‘in sickness and in health’?” he grins, “Love me at my worst?” 

“That doesn’t include giving me a UTI,” you laugh, but you let him pull you down for a long kiss before picking up his bowl. “Here, eat. You still need to make up for a lot of lost blood.” 

“Fair point,” Frankie agrees as he begins to eat, “I feel much better, but even sitting up makes me light headed.” 

“So definitely no sponge bath in a while, Frankie,” you say, “except the one where I actually get you clean.” 

Frankie gives you a crooked smile but continues to eat as you start on your own bowl. Jack comes in from the kitchen and joins you both after a while, and apart from Frankie’s legs being stretched out on the couch, it starts to feel like a normal family dinner. You glance over at Jack, his life isn’t easy, but it’s also normal for him, the constant risk of losing both friends and family. You’re sure he’ll process and get past this event too. In a few years time he’ll be old enough to go out on patrols himself and the thought scares you enough to send a shiver through your body. Frankie notices and puts a hand on your arm, giving you a questioning look that you brush off with a smile. 

“It’s nothing,” you say, taking his empty bowl and putting it on the table with your own, “Jack, you’re in charge of cleaning the kitchen. I’m going to help Frankie get clean and then into bed, ok?” 

Jack nods and gathers the dishes. 

It’s slow going getting Frankie up the stairs, but he holds on to the banister and you and takes it one step at a time until he sinks down on the toilet seat with a deep sigh. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” you ask, “We can change the bandage afterwards.” 

“Yeah, a shower sounds fucking amazing,” Frankie nods as he begins unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You wince as you see the fresh bruises on his torso. The raiders did a number on him, and he moves slowly as he steps into the shower and sits down on the camping chair you’ve put in there. When the water turns on, he groans under the hot stream, rivulets of dirt and blood running down him. 

It soothes you more than you thought to help him get clean. He winces as he tries to scrub himself, so you take over, stripping down and stepping into the shower with him. Gently rubbing the sponge in soft circles over his skin, running your fingers through his hair to rinse out the shampoo before you lather him up again and give it another wash, Frankie closes his eyes and tips his head on to his chest, sighing when you scratch his scalp. The whole process calms your own nerves, Frankie’s home and safe, he’s solid and warm under your hands, his muscles moving and twitching as you do a final rinse. Letting the hot water run over you both, you stand between his legs as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head against your stomach. 

“I said goodbye to you,” he mumbles after a long silence, “I was scared, I knew you’d come looking for me but I didn’t know if you’d make it on time,” he draws a deep breath as you bend down and cradle his head against your abdomen, his grip is tight around your waist and you can feel fingers digging into your skin, “I tried to remember every detail about you one last time, I wanted every little thing about you to be the last thing on my mind when I died.” 

He draws a deep breath, pressing himself tighter against you, and you feel tears begin to well up as you press kisses to his wet hair, the hot water still running over you both. 

“Frankie…” you mumble, tears choking your throat, as you feel his shoulder shake. 

“I’m not scared of dying, but the thought of never seeing you again…”

He reaches out and twists the hot water off with an almost angry motion before he looks up at you, swallowing down a sob and taking your hands in his own and pressing them down over his chest. 

“I was so fucking scared, more than I’ve ever been because I was so far away from you and I had all these things I needed to tell you, about how much I love you, how much you’ve saved me and how I would be dead many times over if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Frankie…” you whisper again, sinking down on your knees in front of him, your hands still pressed against his beating heart, “I already know all of that, you show me that every day, you don’t need to tell me again. Every day you make me know how much you love me, I always know that. You always make me feel so loved, I’ve known that since before you even told me the first time.” 

You move your hands up, gently cupping his bruised and cut cheek under your palms, “And I was scared too, I was so scared of what we’d find when we got to the resort. When I saw you hanging from the ceiling, my heart nearly stopped.” 

You can feel his jaw clench under your hands and you caress his cheeks with your thumbs as he leans down, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was scared I’d lost you, but I never doubted that you love me, Frankie,” you whisper softly, his lips finding yours, hot and bruised, but he doesn’t care. He presses his mouth to yours, sharing breaths and tears as he kisses you hard, your fingers tangled in his wet curls, holding him tight. 

It takes a long time before either of you are prepared to let the other one go.  

Later, after you’ve dried him off and applied a new compress to his leg, he still won’t let you go after you’ve arranged a pillow under his leg and pulled the covers up. 

“Stay here until I’m asleep,” he mumbles, holding on to your arm, “I need you.” 

“Ok, Frankie,” you whisper in reply, sinking down onto the bed, pulled in by him until you can rest your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arms around you as tightly as he did in the shower, tucking your head in under his chin as he strokes your back. 

“I’m here, Frankie,” you say softly, caressing his chest, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You feel him kiss the top of your head and his warm breath tickles your hair as he finally relaxes under you. You plan to creep out of bed when he’s asleep, go and say goodnight to Jack, check the door and turn off the lights. But Frankie’s warm arms are heavy around you, his steady heartbeat under your ear soothing with its rhythmic thump. Soon you’re fast asleep too. 

Jack puts his head around the door when you don’t come downstairs, and carefully pulls it closed again when he sees you both asleep on the bed. Quietly he sneaks downstairs and goes through the nighttime routine like Frankie’s taught him, putting out the fire, making sure the fire guard is in place, turning off the lights and double checking the lock on the door before going back up again. 

On the landing he hesitates, looking between his own room and his parents, before he makes up his mind. Only Frankie stirs a little as Jack pulls his own covers over the bed and snuggles in. With drowsy eyes, Frankie sees Jack burrow into his pillow and he puts out a hand, pulling him closer. You mumble in your sleep as Frankie makes sure you’re safely tucked in between him and Jack, reaching out and covering you both with his long arm. 

Safe. 

The next few weeks your little family falls into a new routine as Frankie’s leg heals. He graduates from lying on the couch to walking with two sticks and then just one stick as he limps around first the house and then Jackson. He’s not cleared for patrols but he helps out around town where he can, fixing things, always the engineer. The holidays are just around the corner and as Frankie’s leg gets better, his days get longer with helping make the small town look as festive as it can. 

You and Jack are also busy preparing for the big holiday celebration. You’ve been asked to provide extra care packages for those unfortunate to have to do patrols and guard duty so you stay busy while Jack sneaks off to prepare his own surprise. 

Heavy snow is falling over Jackson the evening before Christmas Day and the big holiday celebration. Jack is spending the night with some friends and Frankie comes back in the early evening, stomping the snow off his boots and knocking his stick clean on the front porch. You give his cold lips a kiss and help him out of his coat and boots, he’s still a bit unsteady without the stick, and then he sinks down in front of the fire. 

“They’re keeping you busy,” you say and Frankie nods. He looks tired but smiles when you curl up next to him and bury your warm nose into his cold cheek. 

“Two of the fuses for the kitchen blew, I had to rewire some of the main panel to get it working again,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist, “But thanks to me, we’ll get warm food tomorrow and not cold turkey and uncooked potatoes.”

“I’m very grateful, Frankie,” you smile, “Let me get you some dinner as a thank you.” 

“Maud fed me as a thank you already, for fixing the fuses,” he says, pulling you down on the couch so that you’re on top of him, “Stay here and warm me up instead.” 

He wraps his arms around you and slides them in under your sweater, making you squeal as his cold fingers caresses your back. 

“Oh, you’re fucking freezing!” you protest, trying to get away from him, but Frankie just laughs and wraps his arms tighter around you. 

“C’mon, cariño,” he rumbles under you, and slides his hands down inside your pants, grabbing your butt cheeks instead, “I know a way you can help me warm up.” 

Sex had been on the back burner for a couple of weeks while the leg healed, but once the dull, throbbing pain had subsided, Frankie had been very keen to resume activities. And now he rolled his hips up into you as he held onto your ass, the hardening outline of his arousal familiar against your core. 

“Jack’s away so maybe I can spread you out right here in front of the fire…” he grins as you let him adjust your legs to rest on either side of his hips. 

“That sounds like a very nice plan,” you mumble, leaning down and capturing his plush looking bottom lip between yours. Frankie hums something and starts pushing you up, his lips now feel warm against yours. 

The sharp rap of knuckles on the front door suddenly interrupts your activities and you hear Frankie groan underneath you. 

“Whoever it is, tell them to fuck off,” he grumbles as you got up to answer the door. 

You don’t get a chance to tell anyone to leave, as the door is pushed open as soon as you open it, Benny Miller stepping inside with a big grin. 

“We’re here to pick up Fish,” he says, spotting Frankie on the couch in the living room, “Get your boots on, old man, you’re coming with us.” 

“What’s going on?” you ask Will who’s standing just inside the door now with an equally big grin. 

“Sorry, secret guy stuff,” he says, giving you a very satisfied looking smile. 

“Yeah, sorry, this is on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know,” Benny calls back to you as he half drags, half helps, Frankie up from the couch, handing him his stick in the process. 

“What the fuck, guys,” he protests, “We were in the middle of something.” 

“And you can pick up right where you left off when you come back home, but right now, you’re coming with us,” Benny says, ushering Frankie towards the door, “This is a very important tradition.” 

“What tradition?” you ask as Frankie looks confused, but Benny just shakes his head. 

“Need to know basis only!” he barks as if he was back in the army giving orders, “Boots on, Fish, and grab your coat.” 

Frankie grumbles as he sits down and ties his boots, Will handing him his jacket as he stands up again. 

“I’m sorry, cariño. I have no idea what’s going on but I’ll be back soon.” 

“No, he won’t, but we’ll get him back safe and probably sound,” Benny interrupts as Will chuckles and holds the door open for Frankie who bends down and kisses you goodbye. 

“If I manage to kill Benny, I’ll be back soon,” he promises. 

“Ok, have fun, whatever you’re doing,” you laugh, following them out onto the porch. You watch them head off down the small street, down towards the center of Jackson, Frankie still limping slightly and his two friends matching his slower speed. When they disappear from view, you go back inside and lock up. 

It’s late when Frankie finally comes back home. You wake up as you hear the door close, and then follow his stumbling steps through the house. Even with the stick, he seems to be having issues staying on his feet and you contemplate getting up and giving him a hand. But he manages to make it up the stairs and into the bedroom without falling over. He drops the stick on the floor and then his pants and shirt and when the bed dips from his weight, you turn towards it and reach out for him. 

“Bebita…you’re awake,” he mumbles, shifting closer and snuggling into you with his cold hands wrapped around your waist, “Did I wake you?” 

He smells of whiskey and barbecue and cold snow as he invades your space. He’s fairly tipsy, more than you’ve seen him in years, and you pull back a little to get a look at him. He gives you a dopey smile and blinks a couple of extra times. 

“How drunk did they get you?” you ask with a giggle and Frankie shakes his head. 

“Not much, but Benny was pouring and you know what his drinks are like.” 

“I do,” you smile, “And what was their secret tradition with you?” 

“I’m not allowed to say,” Frankie yawns, snuggling in tighter to your chest, his cold cheek against your breast as he absentmindedly caresses the other one, “you’re still on a need to know basis but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” 

His eyes are drooping, sleep pulling him under, and you pull the covers over you both. His cold toes are against your warm shins but you don’t have the heart to move your legs away from them. Frankie’s breathing is already slipping into the deep, slow state of someone who is fast asleep. So you wrap your arms around him and lean your cheek against his curly head, letting sleep pull you under too. 

Jack turns up early the next day, excited about the celebrations and the presents and Frankie grumbles as he makes his way downstairs, his eyes bleary and nursing a hangover. 

The day passes much the same as the others, except that Jack and Frankie disappear down to the community center halfway through the afternoon to help set things up. You cross the street to spend some time with Eve and Benny but find Benny home alone with the kids, also nursing a hangover. You help him out for a while and then head back home to get ready for the party. Neither Jack or Frankie are back when it’s time to leave so you assume they’re still down at the community center. There aren’t many occasions to dress up in Jackson, the annual summer celebration is one, and the winter holidays dinner is the other. So you put on your one, impractical but beautiful, dress and put your one pair of heels in a bag to change into when you get to the community hall. 

The early Wyoming winter evening has settled in as you walk down into the town center. The streets are almost empty, the bright holiday lights sparkling in a few light snow flurries, as you hurry towards the community hall. You’re not late but everyone else seems to be inside already so you speed up anyway. To your surprise, you’re met by Will standing just outside the doors as you approach. 

“Good evening,” he says, a big smile to you, as he taps the door behind him. It opens and Jack comes out, dressed in a suit you’ve never seen before. Actually, you’ve never seen him in a suit before at all, but now he’s even got a tie on, neatly tied with a crisp white shirt underneath. Jack’s got a smile as big as Will’s and you give them both a confused look. 

“Hi…what’s going on?” you ask as Will shrugs out of his big coat and reveals that he’s also wearing a suit and tie. 

“Give me your coat, and change your shoes,” Will says, holding his hand out, and you do as he says while Jack seems to be having trouble containing his giggles. 

“Wanna enlighten me, Jack?” you ask him, and you can’t help laughing. Something is clearly going on that all of them are involved in, and their smiles are infectious. 

“Frankie’s got a surprise planned for you,” Will says, “Jack, will you do the honors?” 

Jack beams at you and holds out his arm for you to hold on to. 

“Dear mother, may I escort you down the aisle to your husband-to-be?” he grins as your jaw drops. Will pulls the wide door open and Diana, who’s standing just inside, hands you a bouquet of greenery and bright red winter ash, her smile as bright as Will’s. Your eyes widen as you see the inside of the community hall. It’s decorated in red and green with fairy lights and candles, rows of chairs on either side of an aisle that leads straight up to…

Tears well up in your eyes when you see Frankie at the end of the room in his suit, the sharp cut, black jacket hugging his wide shoulders, his unruly curls tamed and combed back from his face. He’s beaming at you, holding out his hand as if to beckon you forward. His warm brown eyes are locked on you with a smile, and Jack takes a hold of your arm and starts walking you down the aisle. You hastily dry your eyes and squeeze Jack’s arm, glancing down at him. 

“Thank you, Jack,” you whisper, and he squeezes your arm in response.

“It was dad’s idea,” he whispers back.  

As you walk down the aisle, you look back up at Frankie, barely registering the rows of people on either side, your friends and fellow townspeople smiling at your stunned face. Tears are threatening to spill over again and when you finally reach the front, Frankie wraps one arm around your waist and hands you his handkerchief with the other. 

“Wanna marry me?” he asks in a low voice close to your ear, still smiling, as Jack goes to stand next to Benny, Will joining them too, and Diana and Eve on the other side. 

“Yes,” you hiccup, patting your cheeks dry, “but I can’t believe you did this.” 

“You said you wanted a proper wedding, so this is my Christmas present,” he replies, “for the next ten years.”  

He gives you a quick wink and then takes the handkerchief back from you and turns you both towards the woman standing behind him. She’s Jackson’s unofficial spiritual leader, sort of speak, not a priest or a preacher of any denomination really. She’s just the one who has the ability to guide people through all the small ceremonies needed to mark the occasions that matter, whether it’s giving a name to a newborn, or saying a few words of comfort at the funeral of a loved one. 

Now she clears her throat and smiles at Frankie and you as he takes your hand, squeezing it tight. 

“Many things have changed in our lives in the past twenty odd years,” she begins, addressing the room, “But love is always constant. We may not show it in the same way, or uphold the same rituals as we did before. But love, at the very heart of it, drives everything we do in this new world. And it brings me the greatest happiness to have you all here tonight, to celebrate the wedding of a couple whose love I know has helped them through many trials.” 

You squeeze Frankie’s hand back as the brief ceremony continues, willing yourself to not cry more as she asks Frankie to say his vows. 

“Francisco, please, read your vows.” 

Frankie clears his throat and turns so that he’s facing you, holding both your hands in his as he smiles. 

“I didn’t know what to say to you in my vows because I don’t know how I can use just words to tell you what you mean to me,” he begins, as his thumb rubs soft circles over the back of your hand. You can feel your eyes welling up as Frankie furrows his brow, gripping your hands tighter, “I’ve messed up so many times, right from the very start, and every time you saw past it and saw something in me I couldn’t even see myself. You kept me safe from myself, helped me when even I thought you should just walk away and forget about this loser guy who just kept bringing trouble.” 

You have to bow your head as tears begin to drip down your cheek, but Frankie lets go of your hand and cups your face, wiping them away with his thumb as he smiles. 

“I’ve loved you from the very beginning, and then more every day, through everything, because every day you show me more reasons to love you. And through it all, you’ve been my rock, you keep me safe, you love me when I least deserve it, and even when I tell you I’m not worth it, you call me an idiot, and show me you always think I’m worth it.” 

You give a shaky laugh at his last bit as Frankie steps closer, enough to lean his forehead against yours as he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand softly stroking your cheek. 

“Thanks to you, I know I’m worth it,” he whispers, low enough so that only you can hear, “Your love has changed me.” 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and pulls back a little, still smiling as you inhale, wiping at another errant tear. 

“I don’t know what to say, Frankie,” you say, glancing at the officiant who was beaming at you both, “I don’t have any vows.” 

“You don’t need any, you’ve already told me everything I need to know every day we’ve been together. I just wanted to stand in front of everyone here and tell you how much I love you,” he replies in a low voice, but you shake your head, thinking about how much this man in front of you means to you, how much you love him too. 

“I want to tell you too. You know I love you, but I want to have this memory too.” 

Frankie nods and takes both your hands in his again, his eyes soft and warm as he smiles at your frown as you try to gather your thoughts. 

“Ever since I first met you, Frankie, you’ve made me feel loved and safe. With all that we’ve been through, and all the shit happening around us, you’ve been my rock too,” you say and you see Frankie swallow thickly, “You’re the best man I know, the most loyal and most generous man. I’ve been only yours right from the very first night we met even if I didn’t even understand it then. You showed me how easy it can be when it’s right, and all the things that would've been impossible, seem like nothing when I’m with you. But I sometimes wanted to hit you over the head when you doubted yourself, and make you see the incredible man that everyone else sees.” 

Frankie chuckles, bowing his head with a bright grin as you smile at him, and pull him a little bit closer. He comes willingly and leans his forehead against yours again. 

“You’re the center of my world, Frankie, you’ll always be worth everything.” 

Tears are dripping down your cheeks again and you can see tears in Frankie’s eyes too as he continues to look at you with your foreheads pressed together. 

The officiant clears her throat and smiles at you both, “May the road rise to meet you both, may the wind be always at your backs  and may the sun shine warm upon your life together,” she says in a clear voice that carries through the hall. “You have been husband and wife for many years, and may you have many, many more.” 

She gives a small laugh, looking at the way Frankie and you are already nose to nose, holding on to each other as if there was no one else in the room. 

“You may now kiss the bride, again, Frankie,” she smiles and Frankie grins. The crowd in the hall begins to cheer as he cups your face between his hands as you wrap your arms around his neck, his mouth meeting yours in a warm, wet kiss, the salt of your tears on both your lips. In the background you hear raucous whoops from Benny and Eve and laughter from all your friends. Frankie pulls back a little, gives you a small kiss again, and then stands up straight as you both turn to face the hall. Your cheeks are burning, holding on to Frankie’s arm, as you both walk down the aisle surrounded by smiling faces. 

Frankie leads you through to the dining hall, where the combined wedding feast and holiday celebration is set up, the rest of the crowd following. Jack pushes through the throng and you beckon him over, bringing him in for a big hug. 

“Thank you, Jack, this was the best present ever,” you say, pressing kisses on his cheek. 

“It was dad’s idea, but I helped him,” he grins, Frankie hugging him too. 

“You sure did, never could’ve done all of this planning without you.” 

“Thank you both then, I’m a teary mess and it’s all thanks to you two,” you smile, hugging Jack tightly again. 

The rest of the evening is a blur of hugs and well wishes, food and drinks. Frankie doesn’t leave your side, his arm around your waist as much as he can. Benny and Eve, with Will and Diana in tow, come over and hug you both. Joel and Tommy come over with Ellie and Maria and congratulate you too. Maria tells you how sneaky Frankie has been with planning the whole thing so that you wouldn’t suspect that the annual holiday celebration was being turned into your own wedding. There’s even a ‘first dance’, the band striking up an old country song as you pull Frankie out onto the improvised dance floor and slowly twirl around. It’s uncoordinated and off-beat, Frankie’s bad leg still making him a bit unsteady, but the way he buries his face against your neck as you both giggle under the fairy lights of the hall as you stumble together, fills your heart with so much emotion that Frankie has to wipe a fresh set of tears from your cheeks before he kisses them. The rest of the dance floor fills up, but you remain wrapped around him, swaying side to side inside your little bubble, surrounded by friends and family and a moment of normality. 

And then eventually, you yawn and Frankie tucks your hand into his. 

“Come on, wife, time to go,” he smiles, tugging you away from chatting to Eve and Diana, “They’re making sure Jack doesn’t get into trouble, and you and I have our own place tonight.” 

“Our own place?” you ask once you’ve given more hugs to everyone, and Frankie guides you through the front door and into the cold winter night. 

“Jack is very excited to have the house to himself for the night, and I’ve booked us into the local bed and breakfast,” he replies, “Special honeymoon treat for the newly weds.” 

“There’s no bed and breakfast in Jackson, Frankie,” you laugh, as he tucks your arm into his and leads you away from the small town center and in the opposite direction of your own house. 

“There is tonight, for one night only,” Frankie grins, “But I might make them open up for special occasions in the future too, wedding anniversaries and things. It’s a great little place.” 

He won’t tell you more, just winks at you with a big smile as you reach the outskirts of Jackson, the high wall is just beyond the last row of houses. Turning down on a narrow lane, the last of the houses fall away until there is just one, small cottage left. It looks like it used to be a guest house to one of the bigger houses closer to town. 

There’s a fire already burning bright in the front room that makes up most of the cottage, and you shrug out of your coat as Frankie closes the door and pulls the curtains, cocooning you both inside the warm room. It’s clearly been set up to serve as a bedroom tonight too, a thick rug in front of the fireplace, pillows and blankets too. There’s a record player in the corner that you recognise as Ellie’s, and a stack of vinyls next to it. Frankie flips open the lid and puts the needle to the record, the room filling with soft guitar notes. 

“I wish I could take you on a honeymoon somewhere warm with a beach,” he says, hanging up his suit jacket as you put out your hand for him to join you in front of the fire, “but I hope this is good enough.” 

“Just being with you is always good enough, Frankie, you know that,” you reply, pulling him into a hug, your arms around his neck. Your hands find the back of his head, caressing his soft curls as you always do, and he smiles as he begins to sway with you to the music. 

“Was it a good wedding?” he asks, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you scratch at his scalp. 

“Perfect, down to the last detail,” you reply, “you’ve clearly missed a career as a wedding planner.” 

“I’ll put it on my resume,” he jokes, “wedding planner, smuggler and retired pilot.” 

You smile at his reply as Frankie continues to slowly sway you both back and forth. You let your fingers run through his hair, pulling small contented hums from him, the only other sound the crackling firewood in the hearth. Eventually he brings his hand up and cups your face, running his thumb over your cheek as he seeks out your lips for a long, soft kiss. 

“Frankie,” you mumble against his mouth, “can you unzip my dress?” 

Frankie nods in response, his hands moving to your back while he pulls you closer, his kiss growing a little bit more eager as you open your mouth to him. Soon your dress pools around your feet and you kick it to the side as Frankie caresses your back, sliding his hands around your waist so that he can gently squeeze your breast while you open your mouth to him and taste his tongue. 

It’s so familiar, the feel of his hands, his taste, how he smells, how his body feels pressed against yours, even how his breathing changes as blood fills his cock, another contented hum from him when you gently nip on his bottom lip. You could pick out Frankie’s hands by feeling alone if you had to, the feel of his lips too. He’s always gentle, even when he grabs you hard enough to leave bruises as you beg him to fuck you harder.

The only unfamiliar thing is the feel of the stiff white dress shirt under your hands, and you move to unbutton it, slipping your fingers into the gaps and caressing his warm skin as the shirt falls to the sides. Frankie is still letting his palms slide up and down your sides, watching you as the buttons pop open one by one. He shrugs out of the shirt as you move to the buttons on his dress pants, letting them pool at his feet too. 

Frankie kicks the clothes aside and with gentle movements he pulls you down onto the soft rug in front of the fireplace. 

“I was thinking we’re not too old for romantic wedding night sex in front of a fireplace,” he chuckles as you both get comfortable, “Tell me if you get cold, I have a remedy for that.”  

“I know you do,” you smirk at him as he grins wide and rolls you over so that he’s got you caged in under his wide shoulders. It’s second nature to spread your legs to make room for his hips, the heat from his body welcome even though the fire burns brightly. 

“Any special requests for your husband?” he asks, dropping down closer, nudging at your jaw so that he can press his mouth to your neck, his tongue sliding over the soft skin. 

“A Frankie special?” you tease and he snorts, still pressed to your neck. 

“Make you scream my name while I eat you out?” 

“Sounds like something I’d order,” you reply as Frankie sucks a small hickey into your neck, making you squirm away with a giggle. 

“Always with the hickeys, Frankie.” 

“Not my fault you taste so good,” he smiles as he starts to move down your body, nipping and sucking at any part he can reach. 

His tongue leaves a warm, wet trail as you wind your fingers into his hair and caress him softly. He shifts down and rests his cheek on the inside of your thigh as he begins to tease your folds with the tip of his fingers, spreading the wetness that’s already leaking out across them. The sensation makes you exhale and melt into the soft rugs, relaxing, as Frankie moves closer to your opening, pressing kisses along your thigh, his tongue tasting the slick on your folds. 

“You know what a major drawback of getting old is?” he suddenly asks, pulling you out of your relaxed state with a giggle at his abrupt question. 

“Being on the floor is going to fuck our backs up?” you reply, glancing down at him. He’s peering at your pussy with squinted eyes as he moves back and blinks a couple of times. 

“Yeah, maybe, but I also need fucking reading glasses to find your clit these days,” he sighs, “I can’t see shit this close up.” 

“You can find it blindfolded, Frankie,” you laugh, “you don’t need glasses.” 

“Yeah, but I like seeing your pussy up close and personal, now I have to be at like arm’s length to get a clear view.”

His frowning face makes you giggle, he’s still squinting down at your wet folds like he’s looking for something and you run your thumb over his bottom lip, making him look up at you instead. 

“You don’t need your eyesight for this, Frankie,” you smile as the pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks your thumb. 

“You’d better guide me right,” he replies with a smirk and takes your hand and brings it down to your pussy, “Show me where it is, cariño, touch yourself.” 

He follows your hand with his eyes as you obey him with a little shiver of excitement, and run the pad of your finger around the swollen bead at the apex of your thighs. As you begin to stroke it, he noses closer, running the tip of it through your folds and circling your clit as your fingers caress it. You can feel his tongue come out to taste, sliding over your fingers, finding your clit with the point and flicking across it. It makes you gasp, and he hums in response. 

His hands are keeping your legs where he wants them as he moves closer, using his weight to keep you pinned down and wide open. Your fingers work in tandem with his tongue at first, but then you lose focus as he begins to circle your clit with the stiff point of his tongue. With a low moan you fall back on the rug, arching your back up to press yourself more up to his mouth, his tongue beginning to flick in earnest across your clit. 

“Frankie…” you whimper, your fingers tightening in his hair, “Please, I’m so close…”

“I know, hermosa,” he mumbles into your flesh, “I know, just give it to me.” 

He shifts above you, his hand sliding up your thigh, a finger entering your tight opening and curling back. Frankie’s fingers are so thick, and he knows how to curl them just right to find that one spot that brings you to your climax within minutes. Now he pulls out and pushes a second finger in, it slides in without resistance and he feels the wall tighten around them as you gasp. His cock is aching with need, twitching as you moan and clench around his fingers. He knows all too well how good it feels to sink himself deep into this hot, wet cunt, feel it tighten around his hard cock and now each tightening around his fingers seems to shoot electricity straight to his stiff length. With a groan he increases his speed, his mouth closing around your clit and sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue.  

His fingers curl, caressing your insides into submission as you gasp and try to catch your breath. His name is falling from your lips with every ragged breath and he doubles his efforts. The sounds you make, hearing his own name breathed out with so much need, he never gets over it. And feeling of you coming as he uses his mouth and tongue…he’s addicted to it, he’s sure. But this is an addiction he’ll gladly have. To feel you come around his fingers, taste your heated liquid as you gush over him, it’s a better rush than any other. When your body goes tight as a bowstring underneath him, your whimpering almost turning into sobs, that’s when he knows you’ve hit your peak and started falling, your orgasm ripping through your body as he continues to caress and suck at your soaked cunt. 

Your grip on his hair loosens, your body going limp under him, and he slowly pulls back. The heat from your body is making his cheeks burn, a thin layer of sweat already on his body. His cock is aching, and he lifts himself up, letting it slide over your thighs, your belly, as he makes his way up to your mouth. He loves kissing you with your taste still in his mouth, taste your tongue and your sex, the mix unique and so familiar to him. You open your mouth to him as you spread your legs, making room for his hips and he feels his cock slide through your slick folds, coating it as he bites back a loud moan. 

“Here, Frankie,” you mumble, reaching down between your bodies and and closing your hand around his aching length. It makes him hiss, and you guide him to your opening, “I need you inside me, baby.” 

He doesn’t need any encouragement, he just lets the tip slide in, rocking himself back and forth as you open underneath him with small gasps. The tight, wet heat closes around his cock and he squeezes his eyes shut, cursing softly, as he tries to stave off the pressure building inside. He’s like a fucking teenager, he can never get enough of you, your body, the sounds you make as he tries slowly fuck into you, the way your whimper when he bottoms out and your heels dig into his ass, pushing him deeper, it’s as addicting as every other part of you. 

“Te amo, mi esposa,” he presses out, a low groan as he tries to come even closer, caging you in, his arms wrapped around you, his nose pressed against your cheek. You share short, hot breaths, the heat of your bodies making you slide easily together, he needs to be this close to feel whole, to feel calm. You fill his head with the silence he craves and never is his mind more still than when he’s this close to you. He finds your lips again, licking into your mouth as your nails dig into his shoulders, moaning under him and he feels the tell tale sign of his release rushing forward, his rhythm faltering as he snaps his hips forward, grinding deep with a loud gasp, moaning with every hot spurt and pulse deep inside you. 

With every stroke, Frankie builds your climax up again, and when he tilts his hips, his body rigid under his own pleasure, and hits just the right spot, you bury your face against his neck and let the second wave hit. He grinds deep, filling you up, his body surrounding yours, his scent in your nose, his sweat dripping down onto your skin, and you're not sure where you end and he begins. He melts into you, his body a comfortable weight and he breathes heavily, whimpering in a low voice as he slowly pumps the last of himself into your addictive heat. 

The stillness fills the room, only the crackle of the fire and your heavy breaths can be heard for a long minute. Frankie has collapsed on top, still with his arms firmly wrapped around you, and his head on your shoulder. Slowly you card your fingers through his damp hair, and you feel him press a soft kiss to your cheek before he pushes himself up with a deep, contented sigh. With a hiss he pulls out, his spend slowly trickling out as he moves to grab a blanket and pull it over your both. 

“There is a bed in the backroom if you want to move,” he mumbles, slumping down next to you so that you can roll over and rest your head on his chest. 

“Do you think you can even stand up after that?” you tease him and he gives your ass a playful pinch. 

“Don’t act like your legs aren’t also jelly,” he hums with a smile. 

You stay on the floor, the soft rug underneath cushioning you as the fire keeps you warm. Frankie’s like your own furnace too, and you draw lazy patterns over his chest with your fingers as his heat envelops you under the blanket. 

“I wouldn’t do it any other way, Frankie,” you say after a long silence, “Despite all the shit we had to endure to get here, our life here is good now.” 

He nods and pulls you a little bit closer so that he can look down at you as you tilt your head up to him. His eyes are golden brown in the firelight, warm and soft and with those crinkles at the corners you’ve always loved, his cheeks flushed from the warmth. 

“I know we sometimes talk about how different our lives would’ve been if the infection hadn’t happened, but I sometimes think it puts another focus on what we need in our lives. I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing I could’ve saved Lucía and Pope, but apart from that, maybe this is what my life needed to be? All the shit I learned in the army, here in Jackson, I can use it for something really good, and I can protect you and Jack, and all the people that want to have a good life.” He sighs and shakes his head, “And there’s nothing to say I would've been a better man in the old world. Maybe the stress of it would’ve been too much for me and I would’ve fucked it up anyway” 

“You were doing great when we met, Frankie, I know you would’ve done just fine,” you say, cupping his cheek so that you can stroke your thumb over his patchy, grey beard. “I was ready to buy a house with you, and get married, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t believe in you.” 

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” Frankie smiles, “you always believe in me, even when I don’t.” 

“If you saw what I see in you, you wouldn’t doubt it. And it goes both ways, your love makes me a better person, because I have you to fight for and you in my corner.” 

Frankie nods and scoots down so that he’s facing you, his legs tangled in yours under the blanket. 

“I’ll always be in your corner, cariño,” he says, kissing you softly as his long arms go around your back and caress your curves,  “And I know I’ve got you in mine.” 

He deepens the kiss, making you open your mouth to his tongue as he slips a hand between the two of you, his distraction evident as he grows hard. 

“Ready for round two?” he asks, smirking into your mouth as you gasp when he slides a finger between your legs, “I’m not done with my wife yet.” 

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this little re-visit in to The Pilot's world! I might return some day, but for now, the story is done. Thank you all for reading and commenting such lovely things!

Tagging those of you who wanted to be tagged in The Pilot and the end of the fic last year: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer

@mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed

@meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[quintessenceofdust88]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the wonderful @bidisasterevankinard <3 <3

I don't have any of my current WIPs very well fleshed out, so I decided to post the first sentences of the continuation of this story I started yesterday! Hope you guys enjoy it, and I promise to have the whole thing posted by the weekend (and btw tomorrow you can expect more of Little Blorbs' Verse <3)

--

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and cold at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now.  “Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your parting words, it wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?!”

Np tagging @typicalpposite @unhingedangstaddict and whoever else wishes to join! <3

[kimsmuse]

yandere hongjoong + baby trapping ♡ !!

i do not condone anything here, it’s all just fictional. do not consume if you don’t like yandere or dark themes.

fem!reader (no pronouns, just because there's mention of pregnancy) 1.2k words. warnings include manipulation, mentions/implications of sex and messing with birth control and condoms, and yandere behavior, and also kinda stockholm syndrome?

i have a planned part two, so let me know if anybody is interested <3

Your relationship with hongjoong is normal. Very normal, in fact. He has the kind of aura that would automatically appeal to everyone around you as your perfect partner. He had a caring nature and it wasn’t just limited to you, he brought out gifts and things your parents briefly mentioned that they liked for them and helped them out in tasks that even you being their kid, didn’t want to. And when it came to your friends, they were rightly impressed by him from the very first time that they met him over lunch and he insisted on paying the bill. But even without the economic front, all of them were secretly swooning over how when you said you didn’t like the food you ordered and rather liked his dish, he was immediate in swapping them even though it was evident that even he didn’t like it.

Your parents had already dreamt of him as the perfect son-in-law, the one that they would be bragging about to neighbours, relatives, you name it and they’d be bragging and your friends were already planning to invite him and you, ofcourse to this new italian place that opened for lunch..

So it comes as a shock to them when you let them know that your relationship has sunk to a saturation point, meaning it was just dying. it wasn’t even anybody's fault - not yours and neither hongjoong's but it felt like a pretty, beautiful flower wilting, slowly withering away. it was good while it lasted though.

your father's first comment was to ask, "does that mean i have to watch all my baseball matches alone from now?"

you knew what it meant though. have you two broken up? not yet, but you were going to talk to him today.

lately, all he replied to you was with “hmm's” and a nod or maybe if you were lucky enough, he would look your way. he said it was because he was stressed about his work, and that he really needed some time and space to focus for it, which you weren't quite against but the way things had steadily been the same for about more than 6 months, you felt like you had to be the bad person and pull the trigger.

“hongjoong,”

he sits down on the sofa and sighs, but responds to you, his voice tired.

“yes, baby? ” he asks.

you're in the kitchen, removing your apron and slowly making your way to the living room, you wonder what his reaction will be when you finally break the news to him. accepting? angry? upset?

“ hongjoong, we need to talk, ”

now, hongjoong wasn’t born yesterday, he knows what that stands for wnd he's been aware of the crumbling of the relationship as well but when push comes to shove…

he decides that he'll let you speak, he'll let you pour out whatever you feel like saying, what are the problems you think are bothering your relationship.

“I get it, baby,” he emphasises on the nickname sourly, “do it.”

he looks nonchalant about the whole situation while you just want out now, you didn’t like where this whole thing seemed to be heading now, his eyes were getting almost angry, something you’ve seen him do with others, but you? you’d never have imagined him looking your way like that.

there’s something scary about it, “oh, joong, i don’t want to break it off, i’m just wondering if we can work on it, give it a better chance.”

relief fills you when you see that his expressions have softened. “i’m sorry, i thought you wanted to leave, shit. sorry, i can’t believe i would…”

hongjoong had messed up, big time. it wasn’t excusable this time, he felt guilty that he was angry at you when you didn’t even want to leave him. you’d never want to leave him, right?

hongjoong waits, with bated breath. he's been waiting for about, 3 weeks, yes, as the calendar tells him. and it finally begins, the wave of nausea starts hitting you and its not his alarm that wakes him up but the sound of you retching out your guts. he doesn’t mind it, not right now, when it was his plan all along.

and he can tell you're confused, you had the pills! you took them! and he watches you try to sheepishly dispose of the pregnancy tests, and he even follows you to the gynec’s clinic, careful to keep a distance so you can’t see him.

but you see, if there’s one rule hongjoong would always tell his future kid to follow is to never trust anybody, in your case you didn't have a choice really so he doesn't blame you for giving in to him. but for his kid, he needs to instill this one thing in him thoroughly. the world was a big, bad place, where people like his father lived.

after you confronted him, it was like hongjoong woke up from his sleep, like if he didn’t do anything, didn’t put in efforts, then you could actually leave, and he’d be damned if he ever let you do that. so he decided to level up his games, first it was his change in behaviour, he came home early, he brought in all sorts of trinkets and snacks that he thought you would like and he returned to his normal self, but he could, deep down, sense that it wasn’t the way it was before and he was scared that you pack up and leave still.

it was why he had replaced the birth control pills and even went as far as to poke holes in his condom.

he wasn't a bad man really, but he was getting sick of your protests to leave soon and that you've had enough of him or that you both aren't working anymore. he notices that those complaints have considerably started going down as your focus shifts to your health.

and now he doesn't think the crumbling state of his relationship would matter much, he would hit the reset button and he would become the man that you and his kid needed.

he becomes so, so soft throughout the entire period, it would make you forget about any of the cruelties he ever inflicted on you. and you think to yourself, maybe he really can change, maybe he really did change for the better?

and hongjoong thinks that as well, he's just so happy for the both of you. you're having a baby! it's so exciting!

when you tell him he pretends to not know, to be surprised, “we’re having a baby!” as if he wasn’t the one who conspired and made the whole thing happen.

the best thing is that you seem happy about it too, hongjoong has changed, and there’s nobody else you’d rather have a kid with, especially since you’ve seen how caring he is with other kids and just other people generally, so when it would come to his own kid, he would definitely come into the perfect father category.

when you looked at him, holding his hand, he feels like the man you fell in love with in the beginning and you’re sure, that you’ll love the father of your kid forever. let’s just hope you never find out how he bent seas and mountains to make that happen.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 3

"Evelyn? What's up?"

"It's Roman. He hasn't come home last night, or this morning for that matter. Do you know where he is?"

To Jacob's surprise, Evelyn sounded worried.

"No, I don't know where he is. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday evening after he dropped off Olivia."

"Oh...right."

Jacob almost rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure he's not just staying over at someone's place and doesn't want to be disturbed?"

"I thought about that, but he's not answering his phone either. And get this: I get a call from some guy who claims to be a director, says Roman missed the morning shoot for the commercial he's supposed to star in. Weird, right? He was quite excited when he first got the gig."

There was a pause while Jacob considered this. It did seem rather odd that Roman would simply drop off the map like that. Odd and, if he was being completely honest, a little concerning.

"I really don't know what to tell you, Ev...I have no idea where he might've gone."

"Okay. Thanks anyway, Jake."

The call ended, leaving Jacob to stare pensively at Olivia's face beaming at him from the lock screen wallpaper. Suddenly, the silence blanketing the apartment felt subtly oppressive, as if it concealed a terrible secret.

Jacob frowned, and shook his head to dispel such fancies. Roman was most likely fine - it had just been a few hours, after all. He probably had one too many drinks and was nursing a hangover or something.

He made a move to pocket the phone - then pulled up his convo with Evelyn instead and began typing.

The hours passed with no news. Jacob even tried calling Roman himself, only for his calls to go to voicemail. Curiouser and curiouser; Roman was usually quick in answering his calls, in case they concerned their daughter.

Little by little, genuine concern began worming its way into his heart and nestled there, gnawing at his peace of mind.

Not long after 6 PM, he got a message from Evelyn saying she and Ulf were on their way, and he spent an anxious hour and a half until they arrived.

"Hey, guys. Are....you okay...?"

"Grr - Yes...Just raw from the change. Had no time to eat."

"We'll be fine. There's half a deer in the icebox when we get back. Now, let's talk about what we came here to do..."

"Ahh yes..." *sniff* "A strong scent trail, we should be able to follow it without too much trouble."

Jacob was having second thoughts about the whole thing.

"Maybe...maybe we should go to the police? If we think something happened to him..."

"And say what? He's an adult, it hasn't been that long, and we have no proof anything's wrong aside from our gut feelings. Even if they do take us seriously, it'll be hours before they do anything. We could find him right now - hey there, sweetie! Whoa, you've gotten so big!"

"Okay, fine. But I'm going with you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"Why? Are you saying you think there could be danger involved?"

"I don't know, Jake. That's the problem."

"Well, I'm going! He's my - he's Olivia's father. My mind is made up, Ev, so let's not argue about it. Ulf, are okay to babysit?"

Ulf looked at his wife with sudden alarm.

"Hold on, I thought we were doing this together."

"We only really need one tracker, and I know Roman's scent better than anyone."

Ulf didn't like the reminder, but couldn't deny she had a point. It wasn't his only objection though.

"And what if there is danger -"

"C'mon, that's pretty unlikely - This is Mistvale, for Watcher's sake! I doubt anything here could threaten a werewolf. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on little Liv."

"You are the pack leader...but a husband can't help worrying."

"And you are very sweet to do so, but I'll be fine. Most likely scenario? We'll find Roman passed out on someone's couch and I get to kick his ass for making us worry."

"I do know you are quite proficient at ass-kicking."

"Damn right I am!"

The light and warmth of the building seemed to recede behind them all too quickly.

"This way."

Jacob was glad to have Evelyn's nose guiding them, because that damnable mist made it impossible to see further than twenty paces or so.

It made the streets seem even lonelier and dingier than they were.