#when i return home my wife always pretends to be dead

[pinkslipxox]

Back to Sleep

Summary: Billie helps you out in the middle of the night 🤭

Warnings: smut

——————————————————————————

You couldn’t help yourself.

The ache between your legs didn’t help at while as you try to get your head out of the gutter. You know you should be asleep just like your wife is who lays besides you, her breathing soft and steady, lips parting ever so slightly at each breath she took, her arm lightly wrapped around your waist. As much as you know that she’d be more than happy to help you out, the thought of waking her up makes your heart ache. She’s just returned home from tour, and you know that all she wants to do now is rest.

You decide to take matter into your own hands.

Literally.

A soft sigh of relief escapes your lips as you rub your pulsating clit, your other hand slowly massaging the soft flesh of your breast, sending a warmth throughout your body. Your eyes flutter close as you slide a finger inside you, then two, getting lost in the feeling of them stroking your walls. Your other hand returns down to your core, once again giving your clit the attention it deserves, as your continue to pump your fingers in and out of your pussy. You bite your lip in order to not make a sound and risk waking Billie up. For a moment you’ve forgotten that she was sleeping besides you, since you usually do this when she’s away on tour. Who could blame you when you’re married to the Billie motherfucking Eilish?

“Y/N?” Billie’s soft voice makes you stop dead in your tracks.

You pretend that you are asleep but, of course, Billie knows damn well that you’re wide awake.

“Y/N Y/M/N O’Connell, what are you doing?” Her tone is stern yet you can hear a hint of amusement in it. In the soft glow of the moonlight, you can see her beautiful features and the way her piercing blue eyes are looking at you.

You stammer, “Y-you we’re asleep… I-I didn’t want to wake you, I—“

Billie cuts you off with a kiss, her tongue pushing through your mouth as she swallows your moans, igniting the fire once again. You slide your hand back to your core, and just as you’re about to touch yourself again, Billie forces your hand away and quickly replaces it with her own. She’s rubbing your clit in heavenly circular motions, just the way you like it, and you feel her smirk against your mouth.

“You can always wake me, baby. Especially when you’re fucking horny,” Billie murmurs huskily as she kisses your exposed skin that peaks from your black satin nightgown, and your head spins at her words.

Her fingers hook your panties, and in one swift motion, they are off. Billie’s lips find yours again and you bring yourself to straddle her. You whimper as you can’t help but grind over the clothed strap, your clit brushing over the material of your wife’s boxers, but Billie locks you in place.

“My poor, sweet wife,” Billie teases as she slips the night gown off you and tosses it. Her fingers find their way your hardened nipples and she begins to play with them, making you toss your head back in pleasure. “So worked up, desperate for me to fuck you. What happened to the little angel I married, Mrs. O’Connell?”

“Billie, please…” you whine, squirming in her grasp, your pussy throbbing with need.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Connell…” Billie tisks, her voice smooth and sultry. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

With your help, she takes the strap out, and you practically drool at the sight of it. Billie holds your hips as you lower yourself on top of it, a heady moan escaping your lips as it stretches you, overwhelming you with pleasure. You feel so full, so complete, so whole. Instinctively you begin to move your hips, slowly, savoring every moment, until Billie bucks her hips up, making you yelp as the strap hits that spot.

“Come on, mama, get yourself there,” Billie encourages, her grip on your hips tightening as she thrusts upwards, her cock hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Your moans and gasps echo throughout the room, your eyes closed, your fingers digging into your wife’s milky skin. Billie rubbing your clit and sucking on your breast only adds on to your pleasure, making you see stars. The pressure in your tummy intensifies but it is lovely. God, did you luck out with Billie.

“F-fuck! Billie! I-I’m gonna—“

���Cum,” Billie growls as she squeezes your ass and you do. The orgasm leaves you shaking like a leaf but you’ve never felt so satisfied. All thanks to Billie.

“Stay inside me,” you whimper as Billie pulls the duvet over you, and she chuckles as she kisses your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” Billie murmurs softly as sleep begins to take over you, her cock buried inside you.

Let’s just say you slept like a baby the rest of the night.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

43 / 800 words / Nikto and honeypot reader (or a double agent a la red sparrow)

...

When Nikto comes home--appears in the kitchen doorway, duffel bag pitched over one shoulder and boots dripping mud--you’re not ready. You’re certain he can sense it with the way his eyes cut into you.

You straighten up and pull a grocery list nearby across the counter to cover your notebook without breaking eye contact. “You’re home early.”

“Short deployment.” His bag thuds to the floor. He walks to you with heavy footsteps. When he reaches you, he towers over you, cold eyes looking you up and down. Examining the state of his woman. “Perhaps you were hoping for a few more days away from me.”

You look up at him, plastering an overly saccharine, obviously fake smile on your face. "Perhaps I was."

Nikto chuckles. “A mouth like that will get you in trouble.” He grabs your face in one of his large hands as he looks you in the eye, forcing you to keep that fake smile trained on him. “You ought to close your mouth and keep that pretty smile on your face. It’s your best feature.” He's in a good mood, but that won't stop him from reminding you of your place.

Your fake smile turns sharp. "Anything for my darling husband."

He pulls you in by his grip on your jaw, bringing you close enough to smell the lingering gunpowder on his skin--the smell of blunt death that hangs on the edges of his clothes.

“Your attitude is making me want to do things to you that would be too rough for you to handle, doll,” he purrs, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks.

"It'll have to wait if you want dinner."

“I can think of several other things you can do to prove your usefulness besides making my dinner.”

"After," you reply. You need to hear the details of his assignment, but he's always more pliant when he's spent. And it's easier to get him spent when he's full. Makes him docile.

Nikto can't help the grin that stretches across his scarred face at your words. His cold eyes smolder and he releases your face, his hands moving to your hips. “You are learning to be a good little wife for me. I’m impressed.” He leans in to kiss you. His hand slips down to your thigh and caresses the flesh underneath your skirt. “And how do I know you're not planning to ply me with food and liquor so I fall asleep before I have my way with you again?"

"Mm." You loosen the first button on your neckline, then the next, gratified when his eyes snap down to watch. You make sure he can see the lingerie you're wearing under your perfect housewife’s dress. "You’re never so early that I’m not ready to welcome you home, darling."

Nikto's eyes burn as he watches you pop open another button, drinking in the sight of you. A low groan rises in his chest at the barest, most teasing glimpse of the lacy number underneath. His fingers flex around your thigh. “You expect me to wait until bedtime before having you?”

"Of course. What kind of wife would I be to serve you dessert before dinner?"

“Make me wait too long and you’ll be sorry,” he says. “I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. I expect you to spoil me rotten.”

"I intend to. Now, out of my kitchen." You smack his hand off you with your wooden spoon the way a teacher might smack a grabby student's hand with a ruler. "Out."

Nikto scoffs. He hates being teased and he hates being denied, but he likes your fire. And he can do as you ask if it means getting what he wants.

He grabs one of the cookies in the glass display dome on the counter and takes a bite. “Temper, doll,” he rumbles as he leaves the kitchen. “Don’t make me put you over my knee."

You watch him leave and return to your work, sliding the grocery list off your mission notebook along with the ingredients you need for dinner. You'll get the details you need for the dead drop tomorrow by giving your darling husband a full belly and as much sex as he needs to loosen his lips. As long as you pretend to be uninterested in his work and interested in his advances instead, you get what you need.

Still, you can't deny the way your heart beats faster in your chest when you remember the way he drank you in.

...

more kortac / masterlist

[myslutwritings]

BLINKS. Ok so laikkkk. You know how Muzan has that fake wife? IMAGINE LIKE um reader or whatever the fuck it’s called?! FINDING OUT and she’s just standing infront of Muzan Like 🧍🏻‍♀️yo wtf. DOES THIS MAKE SENSE

YES THIS MAKES SENSE! thank you for requesting😭😭

➤ Fem!Reader finding out about Muzan’s fake wife

➤ SFW headcanons (not proof read)

Muzan kibutsuji x Fem!reader

•

•

•

warnings: kinda angsty also reader does not take shit from men (💀💀)

Man oh man.

Livid would be an understatement..

Muzan knows you can be scary.

After all, you’re one of those women who doesn’t take shit from men, you’re fiercely independent, you petrify the demon king himself with your audacious and captivating personality.

It was one of the things that attracted this walking menace towards you in the first place.

Now, Muzan does love you, so do not overthink and assume he actually loves his little false wife.

Oh, he couldn’t give a shit about her. But fake wife or not, you’d still consider it cheating.

In hindsight, he knew it was wrong but that didn’t stop him.

Anyway, that thought of you finding out his secret always loomed in the back of his mind.

However, he brushes this off, foolishly thinking this isn’t a humongous deal and you wouldn’t find out.

My god, he couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s embarrassing really..

No one knows how on god mother earth you found out but that night when Muzan returns home you confront him about it immediately. You aren’t going to sugar coat this for him nor pretend like you didn’t catch him in the act? pfft, only pussies do that.

But to be blunt you probably found out because you caught him kissing her in the entertainment district

“Oh, welcome home, dear! Now, do you mind telling me about your second wife? Or am i the second wife?”

Muzan’s response is silence at first. That being the dead giveaway.

You’re honestly just confused, like he already has you?? Why does he need to have this lil side hoe??

Deep down, you’re honestly hurt but you do a pretty damn good job at covering it up with that sarcastic smile of yours.

Meanwhile, Muzan denies it.

This only adds more fuel to the fire.

LIKE YOU CAN FEEL YOIR BLOOD BOILING.

No way he just lied to your face.

I mean, yeah, Muzan is a malicious demon at the end of the day so of course his interpretation on the human population is going to be fucked up on so many levels.

Thinks all humans are naive and incredibly stupid.

Besides you of course.

But the man isn’t a brainless amateur either he knows you’re different from the rest. Another reason why he actually has romantic feelings towards you.

Anyway, since you’re a girl boss, you obviously call him out on his bullshit lies and it provokes full blown fight between y’all.

You try to fight back tears, all these feelings are too much for you to bare.

You’re honestly crying because of how damn frustrating it is.

It’s also important to add Muzan has never witnessed you cry.

Feels guilty now but doesn’t dare to express it.

You manage to soothe your nerves down and continuously debunk the situation.

In the end, you have him backed up into a corner.

Then you proceed to reveal how you found out.

Muzan realizes that he can no longer escape this situation nor lie to you any longer.

Admitting his defeat, he confesses how he obtains a fake wife but doesn’t even feel anything towards her.

Muzan reassures you that he only has eyes for you, only feels these feelings towards you, assures you that he and his fake wife have nothing serious and that he only uses her to blend in with humanity.

You hear him out, listening to his explanation but then ask why he couldn’t just use you to blend in??

His response is that he desires to keep you safe and secured, if the slayers knew you were his weak point they’d definitely kill you so there is his explanation for cheating.

Bro just doesn’t want to lose you. Witnessing your murder would be his demise.

You calm down entirely, however, you aren’t 100% okay with him having a fake wife.

So you just give him an out.

Like, “it’s either her or me” you express in a very sharp tone to show how serious you are about this.

Of course he chooses you, after all, he always would.

Dislikes how you posses this much control over him. Your dominate nature doesn’t sit right with him.

But kudos to you!! He murdered divorced said wife and now there are no more issues. But you still are upset with him even awhile after that. Yeah, you aren’t going to move past it too quickly and because he’s such a manipulative narcissist your guard is always up around him.

But i mean who can blame you? You’re dating the demon king after all.

THIS WAS LOW-KEY ENJOYABLE TO WRITE!? i hope it meets your expectations and i hope this made sense! I’m working on multiple requests right now but this one was easier and faster to write due to it only being one character.

[lunarfleur]

Sure! I don't mind requesting something new! So you write somewhere in your works how Miles 42 and reader met through location, "whether it be going to the same school or living in the same building or whatever"

I wanna' see a fanfic in Miles pov how he and reader met and how their relationship developed throughout the process! I wanna' know if he's going to make a move in interacting with reader or such. :))

Mr. Tambourine Man ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

A/N: Many people will tell you this song is about a drug dealer. I, however, have always taken Mr. Tambourine Man as an analogy for youth. Take this as you will.

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @hiyaitssans @nagi3seastorm @luvjunie @milesmolasses @n1cole-ghost @kombuuuu

This is x fem! Reader

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to

Growing up, Miles had always been the dull kid in the corner of the classroom. It was his nature.

He didn’t really remember his dad’s death, but there was always a sort of emptiness in the Morales apartment that never got filled. The emptiness has always been there, in his home and in his mother.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

On the late nights, he hears his mother sitting in the living room all by herself lonesome. She sits on the couch, in the same spot she has been all these years; next to the spot his father would have taken up.

He can imagine it: his mother curled up under a blanket, her husband’s arm resting over her shoulders. He’d kiss her head and the spot behind her ear. She’d pretend to pay no mind and act as if he doesn’t still make her giddy like he did back when they were young.

Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand, vanished from my hand.

Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping.

But his father was not there. The late Jeff Morales did not get to stay up with his wife, watching the television as their child sleeps. He was dead, but it sometimes felt like his ghost was haunting the city. He’s gone, but it’s like he’s still there.

As he grew up, Miles did not get the joy his classmates did. He watched his mother work like a dog to support the two of them. He spent many nights alone, waiting for her to come home.

It was sad. Miles was sad.

My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet.

I have no one to meet, and the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

So here he sits, in the corner of his studio art class, his last period of the day. Miles is behind an easel, dried paint covering his hands and table. There was music playing in his headphones, but he wasn’t really listening. It was to block out the other noises.

The door opens, and in walks a girl he’s never seen. It was an odd feeling, at first, a shred of nervousness he didn’t quite understand.

He looked around the room, at all the other students and seats, only to realize the one next to him was the only one open. Perfect.

She talks to the teacher, nothing he can hear, snd watches as she slowly makes her way over to the spot next to him. Miles turns away, picking up his paint brush to avoid and other contact.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

Unfortunately for him, Miles looks unapproachable. He looks like he should be friendly and open. He’s got those big, brown, shiny doe eyes and dimples. His face is dusted with freckles. His lips are big and plush. His nose sits perfectly in the center of his face, blending together nicely with every other feature.

However, people avoid him. He’s quiet and keeps to himself. Miles is sort of a mystery, someone people don’t know much about. He’s got eye bags and an RBF, so people leave him alone. Sometimes it seems as if he’s invisible.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship.

My senses have been stripped.

The girl sits down, taking out her supplies as she was most likely directed. Tense hands moved shakily. Her breaths were harsh. Her eyebrows furrowed tightly against her forehead. She was nervous.

With a skip of his heart, Miles clears his throat. Her head snaps over quickly, eyes wide with anxiety as he stared her down.

My hands can't feel to grip.

My toes too numb to step.

“Uh..I’m Miles.”

She hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek before nodding.

“Y/N.”

Miles doesn’t look away. Y/N peeks over at his canvas. Her lips curve down into a smile, any trace of her previous fear gone. Her lips pressed together tightly, eyebrows raising. No tension, no anxiety.

“You’re really talented.”

“…Thanks.”

Her smile did not falter. She looked at him for a moment, and that one moment felt like an eternity.

Her nose, cheeks, and lips were a blend of heaven sitting on her face. Her hair was smooth and clean. Miles swore her eyes looked like stars.

Y/N was definitely beautiful.

Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering.

I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade into my own parade.

Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it.

“What, uh,” Miles spoke again, “what class was you coming from?”

He watched as Y/N fumbled with her schedule, a blue piece of paper crumpling in her hands.

“I have Spanish II, but I was in the office.”

Miles nodded, a small simper forming across his lips.

“I’m in there, too.”

Y/N grinned at him, eyes squinting slightly. It was almost bright.

Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun, it's not aimed at anyone.

It's just escaping on the run.

“I’ll walk with you, tomorrow?”

It came out as a question, and Miles would be lying if he said that didn’t surprise him. There was a fuzzy, warm feeling in his stomach that, for a second, made him question if he was getting sick.

Y/N chuckled, a simple melody that sent flowers blooming across his skin. It felt like goosebumps, but much more intense. The sensation matched that of bathing in the sun.

“I’d like that.”

And but for the sky there are no fences facing.

And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme to your tambourine in time

Y/N glanced over to a small group of kids sitting diagonally from them. They were watching intently, eyes wide with curiosity. As quickly as it came, Miles’s almost cheerful expression fell back into place. The corners of his lips dropped, so did his eyebrows. In less than a moment, he was tense once more.

It's just a ragged clown behind.

I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing.

They turned away awkwardly, returning to their projects. Y/N sucked in a breath. There was tension within her chest. It was a sudden, sharp sensation in his fingertips.

“So did you just move here?”

Y/N smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, from New Jersey.”

Miles nodded along intently.

“How come?”

“Family.”

Questions and answers came as the two packed up their things.

And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time

The loud and obnoxious bell rang, and every other student in the class shoved past one another to get out of the room.

Far past the frozen leaves, the haunted frightened trees.

They walked down the hallways together slowly. For the first time, he felt as if he could ask questions. For the first time, someone answered. She answered.

Out to the windy beach, far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

“So, what’s Jersey like?”

“Well, it’s fun. The food is great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Miles snickered.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky, with one hand waving free.

“Do you like New York?”

“I’m…adjusting.”

“Adjusting?”

“It’s easy to get lost, here.”

Smiling shyly, Y/N pressed her lips together firmly. Miles could almost feel the heat of embarrassment coming from off her face.

“You just need someone to show you around. It gets easy, after all while.”

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands.

“What’s there to show?”

Miles smiled, looking at the girl next to him as they stepped down the front steps of Visions Academy.

“The sky.”

There was a sudden melancholy feeling that ran down Miles’s spine. It was the same feeling he’d felt on those late nights, waiting for his mother to come home.

Miles did not remember his dad’s death. He didn’t remember the funeral. He just remembered the day the apartment felt less like home.

With all memory and fate, driven deep beneath the waves, let me forget about today until tomorrow.

“It’s the same sky as the one in New Jersey.”

“Different view.”

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

“You’ll show me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show you.”

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

“Good.”

“I’ll show you my mural, too.”

“Mural?”

“For my dad.”

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

Miles nodded, smiling. She nodded back, humming in reply.

Miles had always been so much like his father. The same smile, the same attitude, the same wit.

Y/N looked at Miles curiously, and Miles became painfully aware of that fact. Birds sung in his lungs and trees grew in his mind. Fresh air.

“Let’s go, Miles. I’m expecting a tour.”

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

[thelovelylolly]

Silver Screen Sweetheart

Summary : You were just his co-star, even if you both wanted to be more, and he thought he lost you to the wasteland. - Warnings : we got some angst, we got some yearning, we got reunions, all your favs, fem! reader (she/her pronouns used), mentions of drinking, canon-typical violence, not rlly proof read (let me know if i missed anything :)) - Word count : 1.17k - Notes : i know i havent posted an original fic in a while, but why not bring them back with cooper howard bc I LOVE COOPER HOWARD AND FALLOUT RAHHHHH this is basically the storyline of my fallout oc lol (also, divider by @saradika-graphics they're so good)

Cooper Howard wasn't supposed to live this long, especially after the bombs dropped. He was a man with a long history. He had fought in a war, became a movie star, got married and had a daughter, became the inspiration for the poster-boy of the company selling the end of the world, divorced is wife, lost his family, became deformed from the radiation. He could go on and on about his past.

However, there was one part he always skipped around.

His old co-star, you.

You walked into his life one sunny afternoon, and he didn't know it then, but it was the start of something he shouldn't want. You were his co-star and played the love interest in one of his movies. Your chemistry on-screen together was amazing, causing fans to want you to return and you quickly became a staple in Cooper Howard movies.

Then, the chemistry bled into real life.

You both knew it, but you both refused to acknowledge it. Cooper was married, and you were a rising star. He couldn't risk his wife and family, you couldn't risk ruining your budding career. So, you danced around each other. Your on-screen characters were the only time you two could lean into the feelings you had, but it was pretend. Acting.

Still, the two of you were close friends off set, so it wasn't uncommon for you two to be spotted together. He'd invite you over for dinner with his wife and daughter, you'd invite him to a party with other movie stars. Everything was simple, easy. It was good.

But all good things must come to an end.

Cooper didn't know where you were when the bombs dropped. He had seen you the night before. He came over to your house for drinks, something he started to do more often now that the divorce was settled and he saw his daughter every other week.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" You had asked.

"I'm picking up Janey, then we're going to a birthday party. Got hired to do some tricks and stuff for the birthday boy."

"Sounds more exciting than what I have on the agenda. My agent wants to talk to me about doing ads, like you and Vault-Tec."

"Want some advice?"

You nodded.

"Don't."

Maybe you had gotten to a vault, or maybe you weren't that lucky. The only thing that helped Cooper with the loss of you was one thought: you wouldn't see him as the deformed ghoul he became.

Cooper's bounty was allusive and turned a usual 2-day hunt in 5. He was getting tired and fed up, rudely asking anyone he came across for directions before shooting them and taking anything of value. One person gave him directions to a small home and said that the person living there had plenty of information and supplies.

Cooper thought 'what the hell' and set off, grabbing a few bottles of chems from the person's dead body.

He found the house pretty easily, having the only green grass and lush trees in the dusty desert around. He readied his pistol at his side as he started to approach the house. He took a few steps onto the property before stepping onto a trap and getting caught up in a net that was hung on the tree.

"Shit!" He hissed, trying to figure away out in the cramped area. He lost his grip on his pistol and he couldn't reach for his knife, leaving him helpless until someone could find him and cut him down.

A horse's neigh caused him to look up where the house was, only to see a person on a sleek, black horse riding towards him. They pulled the horse's reigns and stopped a few feet away from Cooper and got off, a shotgun in hand.

"If I get you down, you gonna shoot me?" The person asked, a feminine voice coming through a black bandana obscuring half of her face. The black hat sitting on top of her head obscured her hair and shaded her face from the beating sun.

"No promises," Cooper replied, grunting as he struggled against the rope net.

"Then I can just leave-"

"I just need some information, I heard you were the person to come to," Cooper quickly cut her off, "I'll leave after that."

He was good at lying. He was an actor after all, as soon as he got what he wanted, he'd raid this woman's home and leave.

The woman in front of him tilted her head to the side for a moment, then raised her shotgun and shot the rope holding Cooper up. He hit the ground with a thud, but quickly untangled himself from the rope. He pushed himself to his feet, but before he could reach for any of his weapons, a lasso was wrapped around him and pulled tight.

"What the hell-"

"Shut it," she said sharply, "I know what kind of a person you are. I know what you really want, many have tried and failed."

Cooper laughed dryly. "Really, sweetheart? You think a little rope would stop me?"

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes fixed on his face. He didn't know what she was looking for, the radiation took away most of his features.

"Cooper...?" The woman asked after a few moments, shocking him. He opened his mouth to answer, but any words he had were lost as she took off her hat and pulled the bandana down.

You. You were still alive, you still looked like how you did centuries ago. Of course you recognized him, only you could tell it was him after all the radiation and harsh conditions of the wasteland.

His said your name weakly, not believing that you were standing in front of him. He thought he lost you, he thought you were dead from the bombs or lived the rest of your life in a vault. "How are you here?" He asked.

"They froze me in my vault, woke up a few centuries later, and left," you answered, stepping closer but not letting go of the lasso. "I'm surprised you haven't gone feral."

He smiled, the same classic smile that had given you butterflies all those years ago. "I figured out how to survive up here, seems like you have, too."

You nodded, glancing over your shoulder at your home. You looked back at him and stepped closer, pulling the lasso off and hooking it onto the side of your belt. You looked up and met his gaze, noting how close you two were.

"Would you like to stay for a bit?" You asked.

Cooper thought back to his bounty, how long he'd spent chasing this guy and how much he was worth. But seeing you alive and well, not appalled by his appearance, was worth so much more than any stupid bounty.

He reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. "Sure would, darling."

You smiled and turned, grabbing your horse's reigns before leading Cooper towards your home.

[calaisreno]

Classified

It’s Schrödinger’s wedding. 

1952 Words / Prompt: Jealousy

We’re sitting among the boxes of invitations, the venue’s brochures, and several dozen napkins folded into Sydney Opera Houses. John looks exhausted, and now that Mary’s gone home, I’ve suggested a break. 

I pour John a glass of scotch and hand it to him, struggling for the right words to open this discussion. If I’m not careful, it could end badly.

Sinking into my chair, I simply say, “Don’t.” 

John swallows a mouthful of whisky. “Don’t what?”

He looks confused. Of course. I’m terrible at this. Sentiment, feelings, honesty.

“Don’t… marry her.”

John sighs. “Sherlock.”

“Please, John. Just don’t.”

Confusion has given way to stubbornness, and of all people, John Watson is the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. It’s hopeless, ridiculous that I even brought this up. But it has to be said.

That night at the Landmark, when John was trying to strangle me, I promised myself that I would stop lying to him. Stop shading the truth. Just be honest. Who deserves the truth more than John, who grieved for two years, thinking his best friend was dead?

Best friend. More than I ever expected to have from this stubborn, loyal, surprising man who has always followed me, even after I broke his heart. He deserves the truth. 

And I deserve nothing. But I can’t let the man I love be hurt again, even if it means… well, I hope this won’t be our last conversation.

“What is this about?” John’s face wears that dogged expression. 

“I love you,” I begin. “And I’ve hurt you too much to pretend this is fine.”

John’s eyes widen, then narrow. “You love me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You called me your best friend. I don’t care what you make of it—“

“You don’t do feelings. Married to your work, grit on the lens—“

“You’re not the only one who’s grieved, John. Yes, I do have feelings. And I would be prepared to set them aside, to accept that I do not deserve your love, but I owe you the truth.”

“You love me.”

It’s bad enough that John seems to be stuck on you love me. That isn’t even the point right now. (Note to self: next time, lead with your wife-to-be is probably an assassin.) 

“Yes. Which is why I’m about to tell you the last thing you want to hear right now.”

“I’m about to get married, Sherlock! Why are you doing this now— you’ve never given me the tiniest clue that you even considered me a friend. I don’t have friends. Remember that? What is this— are you jealous? Is that what this is about?” 

I’m terrible at this. I’ve vowed to be honest, not to keep John in the dark all the time, and all John is taking from this is that I’m jealous. 

I try again. “You’re about to marry a woman you don’t know. A woman who is lying to you.”

Now John’s wearing his isn’t this ironic face. “Oh, well, I suppose I should be used to people who love me lying to me! You’ve given me plenty of practice, you know.”

“I realise my apology for that is inadequate. I understand that you will never return my feelings, and I will live with that. I’m not jealous. Marry whomever you want, John— just not her. She’s not who she claims to be. I’m telling you this because I believe you’re in danger.”

“All right, then.” Still angry, but also curious. “Tell me. Who is she?”

“I don’t know yet. I do know that she’s not Mary Morstan, who was stillborn in 1972 and buried in Chiswick Cemetery. The night I met her, I deduced that she’s hiding something, so I went to Mycroft. While I was gone, he was supposed to keep an eye on you because we believed Moriarty’s organisation might still take action against you. When I realised that she was not who she said she was, I gave him an earful for letting an unknown close to you.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing. He wouldn’t tell me anything about her. Classified. Which tells me most of what I needed to know. He knows exactly who she is, which suggests that she’s an agent of some sort, probably freelance. She may have done work for the British government, which would be how he knew her.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re an agent of the government, I believe. Don’t even try telling me you weren’t working for your brother these past two years. Maybe she doesn’t have clearance to tell me what kind of work she did.”

“But she hasn’t even mentioned it, has she? She told you she’s a nurse. And she’s using a name that’s not her own. You’re marrying her, John— the fact that she’s assumed a false identity—“

“—means that she’s in some sort of witness protection. That she doesn’t have clearance to tell anyone.“ Annoyed, but not in denial. Uncomfortable now that he’s thinking about it. 

“Mycroft would have said if that were the case. And he would have threatened me to keep my hands off. The fact that he’s said nothing means that she’s part of an active investigation. And most likely not currently working for the British government. If she were, he would have said.”

John is silent. 

“Ignorance is not bliss, John. You made that point quite forcefully the night I returned.”

“She’s active?” He looks dazed. 

“Mycroft wouldn’t say. But it’s not the kind of work anyone actually leaves behind.” 

“And you’re telling me this now? You couldn’t have said sooner? Christ, we’ve started planning the wedding!” Angry again.

“I wasn’t sure. I’m more certain now, though.”

John has reached his limit. “I… I’ve got to go. I can’t deal with this now. Just… I’m going.” He grabs his coat, stuffs his arms in the sleeves, and marches out the door.

… (Continues below cut)

I return from buying milk (I really must be losing my mind if I’m going to the shops, but tea requires milk and sugar and Mrs Hudson is still showing her displeasure at my inexplicable return by not running errands for me) and find Mycroft sitting in my chair. He knows, of course, which chair is mine and which is John’s, and is making a statement whose meaning I can guess. Power dynamics: my chair. 

Considering who’s paid the rent for the last two years, it actually is Mycroft’s chair. I make tea, hand a mug to Mycroft, and sit in John’s chair. 

“Well, brother.” He gives me an appraising look. 

I’m used to the evaluation; it happens every time I see my brother, that once-over to determine if (a) I’ve relapsed, (b) I’ve done something else Mycroft will regret, or c) I’m about to lie about something not covered under (a) or (b). The best way to side-track this is to get on his nerves.

“This is about John, isn’t it?” I blow on my tea. “Otherwise you would have called.”

“He came to see me yesterday, directly from seeing you. Asking what I knew about Mary Morstan. Now, where did he get the idea that she’d been lying to him, if not from you?”

“You didn’t swear me to silence.”

Mycroft sips his tea, but says nothing. He’s very good at keeping his own counsel. 

“I asked him not to marry her,” I say. “I don’t have any real proof, other than what I told him, but reasoned that it would be better not to leave it until the last moment. I’m wondering, though, why you were willing to let it happen. You let her close to John, when it’s obvious she was planted in his surgery because of me.”

Mycroft smirks. “You don’t think it was Dr Watson’s charms that drew her to him?”

“Mary Morstan isn’t like the others. Who is she working for?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you can guess.”

“I’m not giving you an unfounded hypothesis, Sherlock. The matter is still classified.” He shifts in his seat, watching me, then relents a bit. “You’re not wrong about her. But we cannot afford to tip her off yet. The marriage will be invalid, of course.”

(Note to self: Kill Mycroft.)

“This should never have happened. John is not a chess piece, a thing to be sacrificed for your game. Now, go away. I don’t want to talk to you until you can give me some answers.”

Without a word, Mycroft stands, tucks his umbrella under his arm, glares at me, and leaves. 

…

It’s night, and I’m walking. No particular destination, just around the park until I’m too tired to walk further. 

When I finally open the door of 221B, John is sitting on the stairs. 

He looks up at me, but doesn’t speak. And for once, I can’t read his look. Either he’s said something to Mary, or he hasn’t. She’s lied to him, or she’s told him the truth. He’s forgiven her or he’s broken it off. 

It’s Schrödinger’s wedding. 

I hang my coat by the door. He still hasn’t spoken, but budges over to make room for me.

“You said you love me.”

“Yes.”

“You promised not to lie.”

“I’m not lying. I do love you.”

“I mean, about Mary.”

“I spoke with Mycroft. She’s part of an active investigation, as I guessed. He wouldn’t give me details.”

“Jesus. And you love me.” 

I feel his eyes on me, but say nothing. Either he accepts it, or he doesn’t.

“You told me you were married to your work. That’s a pretty clear signal you weren’t interested. Why did you say that?”

“Because I was a coward. And soon you were dating women, which was also a clear signal, and there wasn’t any point in bringing it up again.”

“When you say love, what do you mean?”

“I want you to be happy. If that’s with someone other than me, fine. But someone who’s lying to you cannot make you happy.”

He leans closer, his shoulder against mine. “And what would make you happy? If you could have anything you want?”

“A locked room triple homicide, no murder weapon.”

He gives a low chuckle. “Idiot. I mean, what do you want from me?”

“Whatever you’ll give me. I’m prepared to be your friend for life, if that’s what you want.”

“Nothing more? Just friends? Not romantic?”

No lies, not now. “Yes, I want more. I want you to live here, to sleep in my bed, yes— with all that entails. To never leave me. But I will take what I can—”

“Yes. All of it.”

It’s my turn to be silent. 

He rubs his eyes. Sleepless night. “I told her I couldn’t marry her. You’d best let Mycroft know if he’s trying to suss her out. She’s already packing her bags.”

“Did she tell you what she is?”

“I didn’t ask. I just told her I was in love with you.”

I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. No, I feel like what I imagine when I think of kissing John. Breathless, heart-pounding. 

“Are you in love with me?”

“I thought you knew.” He smiles, takes my hand in his own. “Yes, I am.”

My voice shakes. “And what did she say?”

“She already knew.” His smile broadening, John leans in. 

The kiss is better than any I could imagine. 

He doesn’t let go when it ends. “So, if I’d decided to marry her anyway…” He grins. “What was your plan for that?”

The truth. I promised. “I was going to kidnap you.”

He gives me a smouldering look. “You could still do that.”

(Note to self: I’m going to have to get used to John Watson’s love language.)

...

Read/comment on AO3

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (The Hunger Games, Ch. 23)

katniss hoping the camera doesn't pick up her blush at peeta saying "best thing that ever happened to you." peeta is such a flirt. like he couldn't talk to her for 11 years and you'd think he'd fumble at this stage but nope, the man is on fire

while she's in the sleeping bag she's sharing with peeta, with her head on his shoulders and his arms around her, katniss thinks: oh haymitch probably wants me to keep up the act, i better do something lol

"i noticed just about every girl but none of them made a lasting impression but you" i cannot

when they find out thresh has died, and katniss goes to sleep with her hood over her face to hide her emotions, she says that during this time, she silently says goodbye to thresh and thanks him for her life, she promises to remember him and do something for his and rue's families if she can and i think it's so beautiful that during the victory tour in catching fire, peeta essentially does this with no prompting. he remembers them and pledges to help them on his own accord. and no wonder katniss loves him for it. he is just a wonderful person and he is so in tune with her.

katniss is comforted by peeta's steady warmth

right before katniss says that she's never going to marry or have children because of the games, she thinks of haymitch, living alone, without a wife or children, drunk most of the time, and says she doesn't want to end up like that. so deep down, she wants a family, she wants companionship (for all those people who think she should've been alone at the end of mockingjay)

and then again we have her watching peeta as he sleeps and wondering what he/they will be like when they return home. she admits that she feels like he is actually in love with her and not just pretending.

"he will always be the boy with the bread". - he won't just be a friend because he's the boy with the bread and that is a lot more to katniss. when she thinks of anything beyond friendship with peeta, she feels like gale is watching over her which is very interesting. (would love to hear your thoughts on why because i'm still trying to understand how katniss's mind works). in my head, i feel like she saw gale as her obvious future partner just because of the nature of their relationship but now she's imagining things "beyond" friendship with this other boy peeta and it's conflicting for her. this want of hers for peeta (which turns into a need) that now disrupts what she thinks was a normal necessity in her life.

them and their constant long kisses and absentminded kisses. which katniss doesn't try to stop. like she just accepts them (and i believe participates in them) with no particular thoughts. she just casually mentions they're kissing every few sentences. like girl. i can't believe they gave us extra non-existent gale kisses in the movies but didn't give us the 24/7 smoochathon these two were having in that cave.

the ease with which they touch each other. the way katniss covers his mouth with her hands without thought. the way peeta makes her genuinely laugh while they're stuck in this nightmare

when they're out hunting and she thinks she's lost peeta/he's dead, she's actually completely irrational. her desperation and fear comes out as anger and snappiness but her thought process is irrational. she's so worried about peeta dying that she doesn't stop to think that she would've heard a cannon/seen his body be collected if he was dead by now.

she's so worried by the thought of peeta dying that she is trembling. i really think that after all their days and nights in the cave over the last few chapters, she has developed real love for him. the kind where the thought of him not being with her/in her life would cause her to seriously grieve. not in a oh that was the boy from my district way or oh that was the boy who helped me way or like the other tribute deaths - no, this is peeta and she wouldn't come back from his death.

it's funny that a lot of the time when she's confused about her feelings, it means poor peeta is dealing with her anger. like her throwing a strop and acting like she doesn't want the food he's found or picking at him for eating without her even though she doesn't care. she's so petty.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Just a Number

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky at a party and the attraction is more than either one of them wants to resist. Of course nothing is ever that simple.

Notes: Since most stories are younger readers I felt like having a more mature reader could be a nice change of pace. Especially since I'm creeping up on senior discounts and want to believe Bucky could fall in love with someone like me.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female, tall and this one is obviously 40+

Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing, vague sex talk, angst

"John's dead"

Olivia's words rang in her head and her imagination immediately concluded that something had happened to James since they were on the same mission and his phone call had been abruptly disconnected.

Dawn was finally able to get Olivia calmed down and Y/N took the letter she had been waving around. It wasn't as bad as Olivia sobbed but it wasn't good. John was MIA, the letter didn't mention Bucky or Sam.

The two of them sat on the couch while Y/N poured drinks for them. She downed hers and refilled the glass before setting the bottle on the table, giving them their drinks and sitting down.

"So this doesn't say he's dead, he's just MIA. Which isn't great but there's still hope." Y/N offered, trying to sound positive even though her chest was tight and her stomach tied in knots.

Olivia was calming down and looked over at her "That's what Val said but I don't know if I can trust her."

Dawn looked at her questioningly "Val? Who's Val?"

Olivia shrugged "She approached John after his court martial. Said she would have work for him but didn't really clarify. She works for some govt agency, I'm not sure which and has a crazy long name that I can't remember." Olivia sighed "She told me to be strong and not to lose hope but I...." She held back a sob. "I don't know how to live without him. How do you do it, Y/N? I mean without Mike?"

Y/N shrugged "You just keep going, sometimes you have to lie to yourself and pretend you're ok. I had Dawn and if this does turn out to be the worst, you have us. You can stay in Jessie's old room tonite and as long as you need."

Olivia nodded "Thank you. I would like to stay, at least for tonite."

Dawn smiled softly at her "We're your sisters and will do whatever we can. For now, lets just take things one day at a time."

One day turned into a week, then two until over a month had passed with no news at all.

Jessie visited a few times a week to keep Olivia company while Y/N and Dawn worked. Her dog, Luna, was very comforting and made Olivia wish for a pet of her own but John hated animals and forbade it.

Michael came by a couple of times during the day but was careful to be gone before his mother returned, his anger at himself combined with the shame over how he had treated his mother prevented him from reaching out and apologizing.

On a Saturday, a couple of weeks after the letter, Dawn and Y/N went to the shelter and adopted a pair of pit mix puppies, brothers. One was black with dark eyes and immediately bonded to Y/N. The other was tawny with gold eyes and took to Dawn almost as quickly. During the day they kept Olivia company but at night they came alive when their two favorite people returned home.

One evening about 6 weeks after the letter there was a knock on the door. Y/N excused herself from dinner and hurried to answer it, hoping that John or Bucky had returned, or that Michael had come to his senses.

She wasn't that lucky. Instead it was Sam looking tense and she could see the concern on his face. He looked haggard with circles under his eyes and a scraggly beard.

"Sam! We didn't expect to see you here. Please come in we're just finishing dinner. Would you like something to drink? Have you eaten yet?"

Sam shook his head "I'm fine, thank you. I need to talk to you and I heard John's wife is staying here and-"

Before he could finish he was almost knocked down by the dogs who had grown quickly and were very affectionate with people their alpha moms were comfortable with. He chuckled at their antics.

Once the dogs had thoroughly inspected him they went to lay on their pillow and he was able to talk again. Dawn and Olivia had finished cleaning up from dinner and came to see what the commotion was about. When she saw Sam, Olivia felt her eyes tearing up and started shaking her head, assuming it was bad news.

Sam tried to soothe her speaking softly "Hey, it's alright Olivia. Is it ok if I call you Olivia?"

She nodded silently

Sam sat on the couch "I'm not supposed to be here but I wanted to let you know that it's not as bad as it might seem and you shouldn't lose hope." He looked at Olivia and then to Y/N "Both of you. Please keep the faith and know I'm doing everything I can. I'm sorry I can't say any more about it. Take care of yourselves."

Before any of them could ask any questions he quickly stood and excused himself, leaving Olivia and Y/N staring at the door he left through.

The next day while Y/N was at work, Peppers receptionist, Brittany, called to let her know she had a visitor.

Y/N felt her nerves flare, she wasn't expecting anyone today but she told Brittany to send them in.

Y/N stood to greet a well dressed, petite woman with dark hair.

The woman spoke first "I'm Contessa Valentina Allegra deFontaine but you can call me Val. I need a moment of your time."

Y/N looked at her, appraising her, for a moment "Why do I have the feeling that you aren't really asking?" Shrugging, she waved at the chairs in front of her desk. "Have a seat, Val. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?"

Val shook her head Y/N sat down.

Y/N waited for Val to say something while Val looked around her office before sitting. Y/N sighed, she had too much to do. "How can I help you?"

Val finally spoke but not about her reason for being there "The short blond in the pictures, that's your adopted sister Dawn Walker? And the others are your kids, Michael and Jessica? You have a beautiful family, shame about their father. We saw a few cases like his, people materializing in dangerous places. Very sad."

She paused but started back up before Y/N could reply "I'm surprised there aren't any pictures of James, or the two of you. John made it sound like you were attached at the hip."

She looked at Y/N knowingly "I get the feeling that there's some jealousy issues there, unhealthy for siblings, adopted or not."

Y/N finally had it "OK, I get it, you know all about me and my family, my life. I'm appropriately scared so can you just get to the point. What is this all about?"

Val tutted at her "No, no dear, oh no, I'm not trying to frighten you. I have large, well armed men for that. I'm just letting you know that I know all about you so, no point in trying to keep secrets."

She stood and started pacing the room before speaking again

"We have someone in common. You're closer to him than I am but I also have a vested interest in Sargeant Barnes. I think you can help me with that."

Y/N's face hardened "I haven't spoken to James in weeks so don't know how I could help you with him. Honestly I'm not sure I would help you if I knew anything. He has had enough people messing with him and I won't be one of them."

Val smiled as she sat down "I knew you were a woman of integrity, a lot of kids who lose their parents young go the other way. Protecting him even after those horrible pictures." She gave Y/N a look that seemed to be trying to convey sympathy but seemed more pained than anything else.

"I want you to know I had nothing to do with that mess. That Sharon is just bad news around attractive men but I need her too. For now." She chuckled darkly then shook her head and smiled at Y/N.

"But that's not why I'm here. I work for the US government and we need James' cooperation on a project I'm working on. I think your encouragement would go a long way for him, make it easier for him to make the right choice."

Y/N shook her head "I think you're overestimating my relationship with James. We've only seen each other a handful of times. We haven't even had any kind of contact in over a month. Then there's those pictures. He's obviously not that into me."

Val kept swinging and missing that sympathetic look on her face "Based on what I've heard, I don't think thats true. Regardless, if you do see or speak to him I need you to try to encourage him to take my offer. I'll make sure to keep you and your family safe if he does."

Y/N gasped and her eyes grew wide "Was that a threat? James better do what you say or you'll hurt my family? Who the Hell are you?"

Val smirked "No, of course it wasn't a threat. Goodness, you watch too many movies. Just keep me in mind when you see him. I think you'll be good for him and I'm never wrong." She quickly stood "Lovely meeting you, I'm sure I'll see you again."

Y/N sat at her desk, speechless and bewildered, trying to figure out what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On another continent, Bucky was sitting alone in a tiny motel room looking over a map to figure out where John and Sharon might have disappeared to. He wasn't convinced that they weren't intentionally evading him as opposed to being hurt or taken by some bad guys but he wasn't going to just leave them behind without trying to figure it out. He might hate both of them but they were his team, if you could call it that, and he knew better than to leave anyone behind.

The next morning he heard from a couple of old contacts in the area and he was almost sure that he had found the Power Broker. He went to the compound where they were supposed to be located and watched the activity until nightfall when everything looked quiet. He found a way in and crept through the site until he reached what looked like the main house.

He heard crying that sounded like Sharon and picked the lock to get it. As soon as he opened the door he could hear softer moans and the room smelled like sweat and sex. The noises stopped but John kept thrusting into her, under a blanket thank goodness, as she spoke.

"Well Bucky? Aren't you coming in? There is plenty of room if you want to join us." Sharon giggled "Have you figured it out yet?"

Bucky shook his head, looking away from them. "What that you'll fuck anyone and he's no better?"

Sharon laughed again "Don't be a prude and no, that's not it."

John groaned loudly and stilled, laughing "Sharon is the fucking Power Broker stupid."

He moved away from her and pulled a pair of sweats up as he stood. "I can't believe you were some fantastic spy and assassin but couldn't work that out." He shook his head "So much for the Winter Soldier"

Bucky shook his head "I'm not him anymore."

John stepped up to get in his face. "Obviously. You should retire if this is all too much for you. Wouldn't want you to get hurt or anything."

He gently pushed Bucky back, away from Sharon. "Keep your hands off, Sharon's mine. I let you have a taste and that's all you get."

Bucky shook his head in disgust "I have no interest in Sharon. Or you for that matter. If I'd known that you two were safe I would have headed home ages ago. So I'll just get out of your hair."

He turned to walk away but John grabbed his right arm. "Sorry Barnes but we're not done with you yet, I-."

Before John could finish his statement Bucky pulled out of his grip and punched him with everything he had and again until he knocked John to the ground.

Bucky towered over John, breathing heavily "I don't care, I'm done with you."

John looked over fearfully, holding his jaw "No, you can't go. I have someone who needs to talk to you."

Bucky gave John his best murder glare "Well, where are they?" His left hand whirred as he clenched it.

A woman's voice came from the balcony "I'm right here Sargent Barnes." She was petite with dark hair and reached out to shake his hand "I'm Val, nice meeting you but I will have to ask you to back off from Walker. I need him too."

Bucky shook his head "Val who? Who do you work for?"

"Contessa Valentina Allegra deFontaine but you can call me Val. I work for the U.S. just like you."

He scoffed "What do you want from me?"

"I'm helping president Ross put together a team. Like the Avengers but without the laws and rules that constricted them. People like you and your friend John over there who have dubious histories. Some familiar faces from the Red Room as well. We need you on that team."

Bucky looked at her confused. "Ross isn't president, the election isn't until November. Besides, I'm not much of a team player."

Val laughed "You worked pretty well with Wilson. Besides, it doesn't matter what excuses you come up with you will be on that team." She grabbed his left hand and looked over the prosthetic "This thing is beautiful, by the way. The Wakandan's were really holding out on us."

And sighed "Look, if you don't agree to join our team, we'll create a situation that demands your pardon be revoked and your new residence is the Raft. Then you'll never see your little girlfriend again. I don't think either of you would like that very much."

She turned to John "Would you please stop fucking every woman who comes within 10 feet of you? Selling you as the all American hero who made a terrible mistake doesn't work if you're cheating on your wife. And Sharon? Find someone else who can recreate the serum, before the election instead of wasting your energy on every slightly attractive man you meet."

Val turned to leave "I'll give you a week to decide Sarge. Don't disappoint me."

Bucky watched her walk out, more confused than ever.

@supraveng @cjand10 @440mxs-wife @kandis-mom @dtba-grey81 @calwitch @ozwriterchick

Chapter 11

[soruset]

til death reunites us

notes: if you've read my past oneshots, which i have. failed to edit. woops. lucien is surnaturel! setra is still setra, dw

tw: suicide, poison, mentions of death, implication of assault if you squint, hallucinations, murder

* • + • *

lucien cannot wait to return to his wife. or rather, maybe her voice never left, and it only beckoned him closer to death.

ever since she's died, he's always heard a whisper in his ear. often, its advice led to his next kill and another body mutilated and buried under a house meant for two.

(he says, thinks -- no, pretends it's meant for two. but when she hasn't been home in two years and her dresses have grown dusty perhaps he was always meant to live alone.)

but he thinks he's finally been pushed to snap, as he stares at his wife's grave.

setra caelia hartifelt.

1908-1931.

she was twenty-three when he'd found her in that god-awful place, once blue eyes turned into some irritating imitation of the color, more gray than blue, dead than alive.

he carries the last batch of sunflowers he will bring to her. he grew them himself.

he lays them down gently, a contrast to how he handles nearly anything else, even the corpses he's buried. it's midnight, though, and no person will see him with his guard down.

somewhere in his subconcious, he remembers when she had first mentioned sunflowers.

"they mean loyalty and adoration," she had murmured. "it would be nice to have those buried with me. it would mean someone had loved me that much."

he loved her that much. he wishes he had loved her more.

he had pleaded for so long that night. begged for her to speak to him, to get up and to ask where she was because she couldn't see without the glasses he couldn't find in the alley. wishes he could've bought her another ring, married her again, because that night he'd found her without anything but herself and blood.

why couldn't he have nice things?

he contemplates this for a reason he doesn't know. after all, he is to die tonight. that in itself is perhaps the only mercy god has granted him in the past two years, that he will reunite with his love in death.

(but he knows. he is going to hell. not to heaven, where she surely resides.)

there is another, stranger, deadlier plant in his other hand.

trumpet-shaped purple flowers and dark berries that will be the last thing he will taste.

belladonna. beautiful lady, he thinks.

he is in no way blaming his death on his wife -- but her own demise is now the reason for his. he cannot survive knowing both the death of his mother and his sweet darling were because he was too late to save them to the cruelty of the world around them.

so it is fitting that he will die to a flower named as what his wife is to him.

he doesn't try and eat it yet, though -- he decides to stay for now. stay at his wife's grave. maybe if he stays long enough, he will feel her embrace one last time, even if her body is six foot below where he stands.

maybe if he stays for long enough he'll feel even a bit of remorse. though, he thinks it can't happen.

lucien had killed twenty-three people as of august 5th, 1933. one disgusting, foul, vile man for every year his wife lived.

he would've killed more, for the years she had lost, but something had settled in him.

some odd feeling that told him it was enough. that it was time to rest alongside the woman he had promised his life to.

so just as he had done nearly every night for the past two years, he visited her grave. stayed for a while, pondered things he thought he would never think of.

he runs a hand through his hair, before taking off his glasses. he can give himself comfort in the fact they will not hurt him when he inevitably falls to the ground as he dies.

again gently, he plucks the berries from the belladonna. one by one, he sets them down on the thin grass besides him. one by one, he swallows each.

soon, his head starts to feel heavy with pain. he's glad he did this at midnight -- his eyes can't seem to handle the moonlight cast across the grave in front of him.

speaking of that, he staggers, losing balance and holding onto said grave -- he feels a little guilty, that he may damage it.

he feels he needs water, his throat feels incredibly dry.

as he predicts, he does eventually fall over, a weak, strangled noise slipping out when he does. he reaches out to where his wife is buried.

he can't even reach the stone marking her name.

he's starting to see things. is that his mother in the trees? has she come to take him to hell? can angels even bring demons to their afterlife?

his head continues pounding, the ache settling in his bones, staying as he finally, finally starts to die.

he hears a faint whisper again. her voice.

with the last of his strength, he murmurs, a strained, tortured smile on his face,

"it seems death will reunite us rather than do us part."

* • + • *

later, when the graveyard's groundkeeper finds his body, his eyes are just as gray as his wife's were on august fifth, 1931.

[strobbylemonade]

accompanying progress photos

edit: here's the sinner quotes in case the vfx are too strong. and you're not bothered to scroll to every half second. btw i kept all the spellings of names from the translations i used to prevent confusion. but it is still pretty confusing.

yi sang (the end poem of The Wings): I stopped my pace and wanted to shout. Wings, spread out again! Fly. Fly. Let me fly once more. Let me fly just once more

faust (god talks to mephistopheles about faust): He drives his spirit outwards, far, / Half-conscious of its maddened dart: / From Heaven demands the brightest star, / And from the Earth, Joy’s highest art / And all the near and all the far, / [But] Fails to release his throbbing heart.

don quixote (idk the context i stole it off of goodreads ngl): When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

ryoshu (yoshihide, her inspiration, requested to watch a woman be burnt in a carriage so he could finish his portrait of hell. the emperor agrees to his request but burns his daughter instead): No longer did his eyes seem to mirror the image of his daughter's agonised death. His eyes seemed to delight beyond measure in the beautiful color of the flame and the form of the woman writing in her last infernal tortures.

meursault (at the end of the novel, before his execution, he realises the world doesn't care for him, and gains happiness through this realisation): As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.

hong lu (pao yu/baoyu/hong lu discovers his soulmate died on the day of his arranged marriage, and falls into such a suicidal depression that his soul slips into the spirit world): Utterly broken, Pao Yu sank back on his pillows. It became black as lacquer before his eyes, and his spirit became lost in the semidarkness of a distant dreamland.

heathcliff (i don't think i need to explain this one): Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you—haunt me then. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!

ishmael (don't need to explain this one either): Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.

rodya (sonia confronts rodion about his actions and he goes on a mad rant to her while trying to justify his actions, scaring sonia in the process. i thought this one was really good for rodya's "stagnation" in tkt): Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself once for all, for ever…. But it was the devil that killed that old woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!’ he cried in a sudden spasm of agony, ‘let me be!’

dante (another goodreads victim. appropriate for their job as manager): Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people.

sinclair (he comes to terms with his childhood ending - demian has dealt with kromer's bullying, but sinclair feels forever changed by kromer introducing him to sin/crime): What had once been Franz Kromer was now embedded in me. And in this way the 'other world' was gaining power over me from outside.

outis (ulysses returns home to his wife penelope, who assumes he is dead. in their house, he pretends to be a stranger to her): So here inside your home, question me about anything you wish except my family or native land, in case you fill my heart with still more grief, as I remember them.

gregor (his final thoughts before his slow suicide by starvation. i included the family line for irony. the apple in his back was thrown at him by his father): The rotting apple in his back and the inflamed area around it already hardly troubled him. He thought of his family with tenderness and love.

virgillius (virgil's introduction in Inferno): I will be thy guide, / And lead thee hence through the eternal place, / Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations, / Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate, / Who cry out each one for the second death.

charon (this is from Aenid, a latin epic poem by Virgil, the poet who inspired virgil in Inferno): The sullen boatman admits sometimes these, sometimes those; while others to a great distance removed, he debars from the banks.

and a sigmund freud quote about ego: Driven by the id, confined by the superego, repulsed by reality.

also more details in order of when they appear:

angela is far paler in her pale librarian form than her lobcorp form (i SHOULD HAVE included her eye pattern in her lobcorp form but i didnt)

benjamin's broken heart at the first “give me your heart ringing like” which is covered by his tie. some symbolism for him putting aside his morals to work for ayin (speaking of i really wish i included more ayin and carmen in here)

my friend called the pose where angela puts out her hand to roland the 'angela ibuprofen' and i cant stop thinking about it (said friend’s friend then sent her this video)

the first ... --- ... has the dots cover roland's face to mimic his perception blocking mask. the dashes show up in the order angela cuts off his limbs at the start of lor

lobcorp yesod is looking at malkuth because her death is what pushed him over the edge to develop contamination paranoia. also i thought it was weird they mention he was covered head to toe but he wore a crewneck t-shirt and an open labcoat so i changed it to closed labcoat + turtleneck

lobcorp hod has enkephalin on her hands because she feels guilty for what happened to netzach, both his death and addiction

enoch is completely uninjured in the lobcorp flashback

this is just hard to see but the crib is on the left of roland's flashback where he's sitting on the couch

i'm really satisfied with the gebura to olivier transition. yipeee.

puppet angelica's heart is exposed although its pretty hard to see

binah/hokma's 'hearts' are references to their lobcorp breakdown form

i forgot to colour in leviathan vergillius' eyes orz

and when the end credits start rolling the text changes to the taglines of the games (e.g. it says 'song: Face the Fear, Build the Future')

SAVE THIS GAME MR. A

[bike42]

Dublin 8/31/2023

Uneventful trip over the pond. We had a late morning departure from Madison which always feels good with the opportunity to workout, shower and have a leisurely breakfast at home before a long day of travel. Ryan dropped us off at MSN, which no doubt will cause us confusion when we return in October and try to remember where we left our car!

Quick flight to Detroit. I got an upgrade from Delta Plus to First Class which means I sat next to a chatty stranger versus JT (he also got a late upgrade after we were on the plane). Anyway, my seat mate was an ER doc working on setting up an Opioid Addiction clinic, which was interesting. He said he never drinks caffeine but he polished off a large frappe as he was sitting down and he talked my ear off. When we landed he rushed off the plane without even saying goodbye, and the women across the aisle said to me “did you know that guy?”

Three hours in Detroit - we had lunch at the Sky Club and walked the concourses. There we ran into Dave who we used to regularly see at our neighborhood gym (before we built the gym in our house). He and his wife were heading to Scotland and we’re on both the flight from MSN to Detroit and now boarding the flight to Amsterdam.

We left Detroit about 4pm EST, with an estimated 6 hour flight time to Amsterdam. I didn’t see any movies that interested me, so I just read my book until the meal was served (pretty good pasta dish and a glass of red wine). By then the flight tracker said 4 hours to go, so I put in my ear plugs and eyeshade and tried to pretend it was night time. I did sleep, and soon they were waking us up for a quick egg and cheese sandwich before we landed. It was dark when we landed in Amsterdam (and raining), about 5 am local time. We had just over two hours there. The gate area for our Dublin flight wasn’t even open, so we ventured to find the KLM lounge. Even though we’d been there two years ago on our way to Tanzania, it took us awhile to find it. But that was a nice quiet respite. Had some yogurt, cappuccino and a chocolate croissant. Also took advantage of the lounge to brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tried really hard to NOT think that it was 1am at home. Took my morning vitamins and tried to convince my body that it’s Thursday and we had the day ahead of us!

We walked to our gate and saw that it was the type where you board a bus and they drive you out to your plane. It wasn’t just raining - it was pouring! Last a Sunday we went to REI to buy JT a new rain jacket, and I talked him into an Arc’Terex Gortex jacket just like mine - he pulled that out of his pack and gave it its first test (I had mine over a year before I actually wore it in the rain). Full KLM flight to Dublin. We shouldn’t have been hungry, but we gobbled down the egg salad sandwiches on yummy bread that they served us on our 75 minute flight to Dublin.

We arrived in Dublin to thick clouds but not actual rain. We cleared immigration and we’re glad to find our bags on the carrousel (we broke Jeff’s stretch of lost/delayed baggage when traveling through Amsterdam!). We opted for taxi versus bus into town - about 30 minutes. Our taxi driver, Darren, was friendly and pointed out sights and gave us lots of tips about what to do and see - worth the extra expense!

We arrived at our hotel for the next 4 nights - Trinity Townhouse. Not surprising that our room wasn’t ready at 10am (wishful thinking!). We left our bags with them and walked through the Grafton Street shopping area and the grounds of nearby Trinity College. We were dead on our feet, so we staggered back to the hotel and sat/dozed in the lobby and our room was ready by noon. We got settled, napped and read for the afternoon, then showered and were on the street by 5pm. We headed a few blocks to a place our taxi driver had recommended: O’Donoghues Pub - where the Dumbliners were formed. They were serving ham and cheese sandwiches and a vegetable soup tonight perfect light meal to go with our Guinness. I’d heard that Guinness over here was much better than what we drink in the states, but I didn’t taste a difference. Maybe it’s just my unrefined pallet? More research needed!

After dinner, we walked down to the river then along the river towards the Temple Bar area. It was a beautiful night in the 60s and lots of people were out walking and biking. Back in the room by 8pm. Hope to sleep well and wake up refreshed tomorrow!

[fingfamily-blog-blog]

Finished with Classes

It's Monday morning, May 15th. I finished my school work over the weekend, and now time is all I have. They only gave me one class this semester, so I took in final papers on the last day, and read them casually over the course of three days. Then entered the grades on an excel sheet, and sent it off to my closest colleague, Ibu Yusnita. While we have been mostly separate this semester (whereas I was her shadow last semester) we're getting along as well as ever. Perhaps she can see the end as I can, and it pleases her as much as it pleases me. I took pictures with my essay writing class. I gave some of them departing gifts - books which I didn't want to bring back to America. They were appreciative, and it was hard, as always, to say good bye. But I just push on through. I'm not making promises to them or anything. And the chances of any of them coming to America are essentially nil, so there's no pretending in that regard. You just have to accept that it's goodbye forever. I do have some minor school things, like an essay writing contest to judge. And there's likely to be a dinner or two to say farewell to all those colleagues who kept me at arm's length for the whole year. As with much else, I'm ambivalent about having a farewell dinner, but one must keep up appearances. And if I can have a smaller dinner with Ibu Renzi and Ibu Yusnita, that will be nice. Still, none of these relationships will continue. This year has been a professional dead end.  But, as mentioned in previous posts, the personal side has been far more positive. The travel has bolstered me immensely, and in the next 69 days, I will spend 49 of them on the road, living out of a suitcase. This will create its own issues, mainly with maintaining exercise and diet, but I am so looking forward to this flurry of travel. First I'll visit the eastern-most part of Java, Jember, Ijen and Banyuwangi. Then 9 days in Lombok, scuba-diving and hiking a bit too. Then my last days in Malang, followed by a week in Bali (yeah!!!), just over a week in Melbourne, Australia (where my younger son will be stationed for the next year), and then two weeks in Seoul, and South Korea (where I'll meet my wife before we return to Maryland). Such a schedule is rare in anyone's life. It will be especially nice to share the last weeks with my people. I'm not used to being alone, but I'm not sorry that it's been that way this year. I can be alone if I have to be. I also seem to have been hired again by the University of Maryland. That is some relief, knowing that I have income and insurance again. I anticipate also applying for a work in Seoul, aiming at this point for April of 2024, but that's not guaranteed. Maybe it'll be great being home and I'll just settle in there, find myself a rock and roll band, and carry on in domestic bliss. Recreational marijuana will be legal when I return! In the meantime, I have details to attend to in preparation for departure. I've already started packing. I'm going to ship some things home, so I can have a lighter suitcase, fillable with more gifts and clothes etc. Slow and steady, and someday this will all be over.

[vocaloid-news]

Check out the extended trailer for the upcoming movie “When I Return Home, My Wife Always Pretends to Be Dead”, which is based on one of the biggest VOCALOID meme songs by HobonichiP! 

The live-action adaptation stars “Nana Eikura as Chie, the housewife who’s always finding new and more creative ways to fake her death, and Ken Yasuda as Jun, her troubled husband who struggles to understand why his wife of three years is suddenly behaving like this. Other confirmed cast members include Ryohei Otani and Sumika Nono, and screenplay was handled by Fumi Tsubota.”

June 8th, 2018 is the scheduled release date, and more information can be found on VNN’s article!  

[oddaodd]

· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·

Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)

Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!

Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.

·

“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.

Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew

Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”

“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”

“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.

“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”

Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”

“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.

Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.

He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.

“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.

Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.

All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.

When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.

It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”

Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.

When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.

She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”

The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.

“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.

“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.

“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said

“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.

His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.

“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.

“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.

Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.

“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.

After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.

Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.

“good morning” she said

Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.

Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”

Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.

A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”

“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.

“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.

The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.

“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.

“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.

Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”

“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.

“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”

“I miss seeing her” he continued.

“Oh but you can still see her”

“how”

“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.

“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”

“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.

“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.

“can you stay till I fall asleep?”

After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.

On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.

It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.

She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.

When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.

Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.

“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.

“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.

“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.

“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”

“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.

His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.

“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.

“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”

Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.

After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.

She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.

One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.

“need help?” she asked earning his attention.

“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.

Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”

“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.

“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.

Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.

She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.

“You are beautiful” he rasped.

“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.

“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”

He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”

“I Know” was all he said.

Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.

One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.

“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.

“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.

“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.

“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.

“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.

“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.

“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.

“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.

“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.

He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.

When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.

She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

[murderousginger]

🥳🥳🥳 Oooh yay! 1k! 🥳🥳🥳

How about a little 😈 ?

"Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?" with whoever vibes with the sentence for you — I love them all and everything you write.❤️❤️❤️

(so so glad I made it back in time to celebrate)

So you're the last one, and you've triggered a story in my head I never thought I'd have. So bravo for that, you made me write Grace in more than just passing reference.

Anyone that's been around here knows I don't like her, I certainly don't trust her, but this is unequivocally her.

And this warrants much more than 5 sentences.

---

No one expected Tommy's wife to survive, including the devil of Small Heath himself. He thought he watched her die on the floor of the ballroom, covered in blood and clutching her husband with one hand and the cursed stone in another. Tommy screamed for the finest doctors but didn't really expect them to save her.

They did.

She was placed in a wing of the house that wasn't in use. She had round the clock care through her entire coma. Tommy told no one, expecting her not to survive. Troubled and heartbroken, he carried on with his plans. He did not correct anyone when they called him a widow. Soon he would step into the role, so why not try it on beforehand?

When she woke up, weak and reaching for her boys, Tommy could scarcely believe it. And once Grace had settled into reality, catching up to Tommy's schemes while she was dreaming and healing, she agreed that for the moment she should remain dead. She would make her grand entry back into the land of the living once Tommy had gotten the jewels and the information and left the Russians mourning their choices.

Grace floated through the house, a ghost or a shadow that even the staff did not see. And as a ghost, she was able to see things she otherwise wouldn't have as the mistress of the house. She learned things she otherwise wouldn't have learned. Like her husband kept a diary of plans of sorts hidden deep within the pages of a Latin book in his office.

So she learned about the Russians. And the jewels. And Alfie Solomons. And Tatiana.

Oh, Tommy had much to explain.

Grace always met Tommy in her bed, a weak smile on her face. She pretended to walk feebly. She shook just a little more. How else would she have the freedom to learn all of her husband's dirty secrets?

No wonder Tommy kissed her cheek and patted her hand before leaving the wing to invite Tatiana into their marriage bed. He thought she would never know.

Instead, she watched in the shadows as the raven-haired Russian stalked around her house half naked in the middle of the night, giving orders and nearly shooting her husband.

Grace seethed, but she hid it. There was a time and a place for everything.

And then Thomas handed their child off to a stranger to be taken to a predator. And in his grief he sent his cousin to collect Charlie while he faced his demons to dig for jewels.

When she found her son in bed, clean and angel-faced, she knew Tommy's plans had come to fruition. When she saw the note for the jewel sale in his calendar, she knew he had finally finished his business with the whore.

Then her own plans could begin.

Thomas returned home that evening, humming a tune and a pep in his step for a job well done. He found his wife in the garden, planting a new row of rose bushes, dirt smeared along her concentrated brow. He smiled and kissed her temple and she smiled in return.

"Late in the day for planting, eh?" He hummed. "You should wash up and sit with me for supper."

Grace smiled, nodding as she stood up from her task.

"I would love to," she said. "I'll have someone fetch Charlie and we'll eat as a family."

Grace left for the house, leaving Thomas standing beside the newly planted rose bushes. He teetered on his heels for a moment, enjoying the air, when he noticed a gleam in the dirt.

Thomas leaned down and picked up a familiar ring. He squinted, realizing the ring was not his wife's. He had seen it on his night stand before, the dark jewel glittering in the firelight as the Duchess ran her foot along his groin.

"Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?"

[messers-moony]

Red Mugs | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Reader

Summary: Her last breath was devoted to saving her husbands best friend who also happened to be her brother, memories of the past begin to fill her brothers mind.

“ Sirius! “ It was the last word that fell off her lips before a flash of green hit her from Bellatrix, ultimately saving Sirius’ life.

This girl was no hero, no superwomen, no stranger. She was a wife, a sister, and a daughter. Y/n Lupin, formally known as Y/n Black, the middle child of the black family. Disowned by her mother in her fifth year and seeker refuge with her close friend Remus. Being a Black daughter and sorted into Gryffindor wasn’t easy. Being a Black daughter, in general, isn’t easy. The one thing she took pride in? She was close with both her brothers till the very end.

He was in danger, and all she saw was red. Remus, her husband who had grieved for Sirius after learning he had betrayed the Potters and was kept in Azkaban. After extended evaluation and a multitude of arguments, Y/n proved that Sirius was innocent to her husband. It wasn’t enough to prove him innocent to the Ministry. Despite being Remus’ wife, she knew that Sirius meant more to him than she could ever imagine.

It wasn’t just Remus Y/n was thinking of. It was Harry, Harry Potter. The godson of Sirius Black and Y/n Black. But all Harry saw was Professor Lupin, teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and his wife. Never Uncle Remus or Aunt Y/n, the titles they always wanted to hear.

Sirius watched as his little sister took the spell and fell back into the vail. He watched his little sister die by their cousin's hand. Remus had to grab Sirius by the neck in order from running after Bellatrix, which Harry did anyways. Tears streamed down the eldest Black brother's cheeks. He’d lost his youngest sibling when he was just twenty. Now he lost his last sibling at the age of thirty-seven. He was too young to have witnessed this many deaths.

Remus wanted to sob, wanted to cry for his now dead wife, but he couldn’t. Not right now. Sirius needed him before he had time to grieve. So when it was time, they apparated back to Grimmauld Place, where Sirius fell onto the couch. The man sat with his elbows on his knees, his palms holding his head up facing the fireplace. The same fireplace they used to make hot cocoa and joke around while their parents were out.

“ Sirius! Regulus! Come on! “ The thirteen-year-old girl called, making both her brothers run down the steps.

“ Here. One for you. “ She handed a cup to Sirius, “ And one for you. “ Y/n stated, smiling, giving another cup to Regulus.

They all sat around the fireplace with hot cocoa in their hands, “ I’m scared. “ Regulus admitted.

“ Scared? Why? “ Sirius inquired after taking a sip of his hot beverage, “ Mum keeps hurting you guys. I don’t want you to leave. “ Regulus confessed.

Both older siblings hugged either side of him, “ If we ever leave, you’re coming with us. “ Sirius stated, “ We’ll never leave you, Reggie. “ Y/n added.

Eventually, their cups got cold as they joked around together, feeling like kids for the first time in years. But every good night comes to an end. Sirius and Y/n had their arms wrapped around Regulus. The trio had fallen asleep. When Walburga and Orion returned home, Orion immediately went upstairs, assuming all his kids had fallen asleep. Walburga had seen them huddled up in the living room together and smiled fondly. Deciding that she’d pretend she never saw it.

A hand on his back snapped him from his flashback, “ Don’t blame this on yourself. “ The man had just lost his wife, yet his voice was so steady, “ How can I not? She died saving my sorry arse. “ Sirius retorted.

“ She died saving her brother. The same brother that would’ve done the same for her. “ Remus replied, and Sirius sighed, “ She shouldn’t have. She had a life to live. “

“ And you don’t? “ Remus queried with an eyebrow raised, “ She could’ve had a life with you, Moony! “ Sirius exclaimed.

The man chuckled bitterly, “ Y/n talked about it all the time how you and her planned to have a child one day, how she waited for me to leave Azkaban so I could be in the child’s life. How she wanted to find a place with you in London instead of staying here. “

“ I don’t have a wife. I never had a lover to care about, to come home to. She did. “ Sirius stated as tears filled his vision, “ Her life had more things in it than mine ever will. “

Remus had to swallow back the tears after hearing about these plans his wife talked about, “ Y/n lived the best life she could’ve ever had. “

“ How could you know? “ Sirius snapped, and Remus chuckled, “ Because she told me. “

“ Every morning, she told me how living through the days was a blessing. She used to say to me that if she died tomorrow that she wouldn’t have changed a thing. That she lived her life to its fullest. “ Remus explained, “ Y/n didn’t die with regrets or guilt. She was content. “

Sirius twisted a ring on his finger, “ This ring. “ He began, “ When we were kids, she used to steal things. “

“ Like my jumpers? “ Remus interjected jokingly, “ Yeah. “ Sirius laughed.

“ But she- she always nicked something from the shelf at a store, and one day she nicked this costly ring. Probably worth about three galleons, and she gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday just before I had left for the Potters and gotten disowned. “ He informed, twisting the ring off his finger and holding it out to the male beside him, “ I think you should take it. “

“ What? “ Remus was gobsmacked, “ Take it. “ Sirius insisted.

The male shook his head, “ No. Trust me. I have plenty of other things of hers. “

“ Do you have the Black photo books? “ Sirius questioned, “ I believe they’re in her study somewhere. “ Remus answered.

“ Do you- Do you think we could take a trip there after the war? “ Sirius questioned, and Remus nodded, “ Of course. “

The raven-haired male stared at the fireplace a little longer. Maybe if he stared long enough, the old memory of falling asleep with his siblings would come true. Now it even felt like he could see the coffee mugs on the table. The same red coffee mugs she had again, stolen from a store.

Sirius stood up and walked into the kitchen. Inside the cabinet laid three red mugs. The very same red mugs from those nights. She had placed them into the cupboard after starting to live here with her brother and husband. Sirius took two of them down and began making hot chocolate. After moments of making the beverage from memory, he walked back into the main room, where Remus had slight tears falling down his cheeks.

Swallowing thickly, he repeated her words, “ Here one for you. “

Remus took the cup gratefully and began drinking; soon enough, he realized it was her exact recipe. Taking a look at Sirius, who looked strangely nostalgic while drinking hot chocolate from a red mug. The trails of tears on either of their faces weren’t mistaken.

“ Red mugs. “ Sirius began, “ The only red in the house other than my bedroom. “

“ She nicked them from a market and hid them in her bedroom. On nights where both of our parents were out, she made me and Reggie hot cocoa. We used to sit on the floor in front of the sofa, talking until we fell asleep. “ He concluded, “ Full moons. “ Remus began.

He chuckled, “ Every night after a full moon, I was greeted with a red mug full of hot cocoa. It seemed to be the only thing distracting me while she cleaned my wounds. “

“ It didn’t matter if it was boiling hot outside. She always made hot cocoa for me, and it was always in a red mug, but I never understood why until now. “ Remus finished.

Sirius grabbed Remus’s hand and held it tight, “ One day, she’ll greet us with hot cocoa in a red mug again. We just have to wait. “